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misterparadigm · 3 years ago

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Cowboy Bebop (Netflix): Official Review

I’ve finished the first and only season of Netflix’s live-action adaptation of Cowboy Bebop. As a long-time super fan of the original anime, an illustrator, a writer, and an animation professor, I’ll do my best to account for everything I can.

This has spoilers for both the Netflix series and the original Anime

We’ll start with a quick star rating. For the tl;dr, scroll down to the “Overall” section at the bottom.

4/10 Stars

We’ll start with the more tangible elements: the explicit story. Then we’ll dive into the deep stuff: the philosophy that forms the narrative substructure of the series and how Spike’s dissociation (living in a dream) relates to that. Then we’ll talk about the good, the bad, and the end. Buckle up, cowboys.

THE EXPLICIT STORY:

Spike leaves the syndicate and asks Julia to come with him, but Julia is found out and is given an ultimatum by Vicious to either kill Spike or he’ll have them both killed. She doesn’t go to see Spike, and so he leaves the syndicate alone.

Vicious apparently doesn’t make good on that ultimatum, or is unable to kill Julia. The latter seems more likely, as that was the case with Spike, as well. There’s a bit of cat-and-mouse there. So Spike leaves for three years, and during this time he meets Jet and the two go bounding around as bounty hunters, eventually meeting Ein, Faye, and Ed. At some point, Spike had an accident, though--and this is extremely important, narratively. I’m not sure exactly when that happens chronologically in the story, and I may just be misremembering details. The point is, though, that he loses his eye and receives a false one. He says that in one eye he sees the past and in the other he sees the present.

To briefly conclude the narrative notes, eventually Vicious tries to overthrow the elders of the syndicate, but it “fails” (not really). He’s captured and held prisoner, awaiting his execution. During this time, the elders send out hit men to take down anyone who has ever associated with Vicious and the “new guard,” so to speak. That includes Julia and Annie. The past catches up to Spike and Julia, and they’re brought back together to deal with their ties to the syndicate. Meanwhile, the second phase of Vicious’s plan kicks off, and he slaughters the elders, crowning himself its leader. Spike and Julia find Annie, watch her die, and resolve to take down Vicious. Julia dies in the process, and Spike faces off against Vicious. He “wins,” but is mortally wounded. And then...

“...bang.”

“Life is just a dream you know, never ending... I’m ascending...”

And then we all cry and sob like absolute babies, because the existential underpinnings are too much to bear. Right? Okay, so let’s dive into THAT, and why Nemec and the development team did NOT understand the assignment. What follows this is exploring precisely what the show’s essence was, and these are the things that Nemec and the development team either didn’t understand or didn’t respect--or both.

The Psychology and Philosophy: Themes of Nihilism and Absurdity

The themes of nihilism and absurdity run deep in Cowboy Bebop. I won’t make this torturous to get through--it’s pretty straight-forward, honestly. Spike loses his eye in a violent accident and starts seeing the past in one and the present in the other. He spends the rest of his life feeling like he’s in a dream. This theme of dreaming is the blood of Cowboy Bebop. It’s Spike dissociating and struggling to connect to reality after intense trauma and the despair of heartbreak, losing the one thing (person) he cared about--the thing he tells Jet that he had lost somewhere along the way. That’s what Julia was to Spike. She made him worthy of existing. So Spike spends three years completely unattached, and unable to attach to anything. This is his character and personality throughout the bulk of the series. We catch up to him at the beginning of the anime, but in the middle of his dream. The only thing keeping him connected to reality at all is the hope of seeing Julia again and learning that he isn’t just dreaming. He really isn’t sure if he died during that accident. He wakes up with a false eye and reality looks strange to him. Unfamiliar. But when Julia dies, that totem to reality is gone and he detaches completely.

He tries to explain to Faye why he has to face off against Vicious, but she doesn’t understand. He isn’t going there to die. He’s going there to find out of he’s really alive.

He’s going there for closure, and the only way to get that is to face Vicious. Vicious is the personification of nihilism in Cowboy Bebop.

“There is nothing to believe in. There is no need to believe.”

“There is nothing in this world to believe in.”

Spike, in his dissociative state, is living in absurdity. Unsure if he’s alive, if anything has any meaning, and yet he pushes forward.

“Whatever happens, happens.”

This is absurdity, in the philosophical sense. But it isn’t really enough for Spike. He’s willing to drift until something that ties him back to the reality he once knew strikes him. This is Julia, particularly. Even when it’s Vicious’s name that triggers him, it’s still in reference to Julia’s whereabouts. That is, until she dies. Then it becomes about waking up, and Vicious says multiple times that he is the only one who can kill Spike.

“I’m the only one who can keep you alive. And I’m the only one who can kill you.”

He’s the only one who can set Spike free. The only one who can wake him up from this dream. Death, for Spike, is closure. It’s the release from his hypnagogic post-accident existence. That hypnagogue is the landscape of transience that Cowboy Bebop exists within, as we catch up to the characters. That’s the space of the story that we’re introduced to. We’re on this transient journey with a found family who catch each other in passing as their pasts are catching up to them. Eventually they do, and each of them has to reckon with it. Jet understands this, which is why he doesn’t fight Spike’s decision. He’s an ex-cop, and he knows very well just how peoples’ past actions find them later, always. Spike has a reckoning, and nothing can stop it. And he has to face it.

So he goes to face off against Vicious so that he can wake up. He’s been suffering this dissociation for three years, and he needs to live again. He’s going there to live. To be set free.

That’s Cowboy Bebop. The dissociative disorder, the nihilism, the absurdity. It’s transient and tragic. It’s everything Nemec wanted to avoid, by his own words, and so he was destined to fail by any artistic measure of the story of Cowboy Bebop and what makes it significant. It’s a devastating exploration of lost human beings, and you cannot abandon that without collapsing Cowboy Bebop into something that can never be Cowboy Bebop. Nemec didn’t understand the assignment. He didn’t engage with the story at its depths--or if he did, he didn’t appreciate it and couldn’t respect it as a result.

Cowboy Bebop is more than a stylistic sci-fi western noir. It’s more than superficial fun and aesthetic appeal. It’s a pensive, dissociative, transient dream about a found family that was fated to merely cross paths. Netflix’s adaptation was destined to fail because it failed to engage with the story at its core--at its essence. Nemec didn’t have the wherewithal to accomplish the task. It seems to me that he was woefully ill-equipped as a critical storyteller to translate these elements into live-action. That’s all there is to it.

All right. Let’s talk about the Netflix adaptation a bit more, starting with what it does reasonably well.

THE GOOD:

To start, I’ll talk about what’s working. First, Yoko Kanno’s music is, as to be expected, the show’s biggest saving grace. There’s a fair amount of recycling from the original series, often updated somewhat for better or worse. When it’s not as good as the original tune, it’s still not bad, but often any issue with the music in this adaptation isn’t the song itself but the moments and manner in which they’re used--often feeling forced in like a wrong puzzle piece for the sake of nostalgia and to carry an otherwise poorly directed scene.

One standout performance is Mustafa Shakir, who does by FAR the best of the cast with his turn as Jet Black.

There are moments that are bad, but he does the best he can with what’s been given to him, and often he truly feels like he understood the assignment and channels Jet quite well. Another standout is Tamara Tunie as Ana, who plays a much bigger role in this adaptation than the character in the anime.

This was the most successful change made from the anime to live-action. Tunie brings dignity to an otherwise goofy, melodramatic adaptation--but we’ll get more into TONE later. Another smaller part that stood out to me as particularly memorable, given that he’s a totally new character, is A Martinez as Stax. This character didn’t need to exist in the series at all, but Martinez really sells the character and manages to bear gravity and menace which is sorely missing in the more important villains of the series; I’m looking at you, Vicious.

Ending the first season on Fallen Angels was a very good decision, in general. But that’s to say nothing of its execution, which I’ll get into later.

THE BAD:

We’ll start with the least bad and sort of go from there. Cho is an enjoyable actor, but he struggles as Spike. Sometimes he gets it, but much of the time he’s not able to carry the quiet, brooding, existential gravitas that the character is known for. He’s channeling a bit of the swagger and a lot of the goofball, but almost none of the menace that Spike is capable of, which was carried over from his syndicate days. This isn’t necessarily Cho’s fault, either--at least not entirely. This can also easily be laid at the feet of the writers and, in particular, the director. This adaptation only has a superficial understanding of nearly every aspect of the series, and their portrayal of Spike is no different. Spike has his endearing goofball moments, but this adaptation completely abandons his cold irritability when it comes to Faye, Ein, and Ed. They soften him far too much from the onset, rather than let that part of him develop over time. Whatever of Spike is jaded in this new series doesn’t play much in the foreground of his character, and when it does it’s not treated with the weight it deserves, but rather a highly-stylized, superficial, transparent narrative device that constantly reminds us that we’re watching a TV show--a TV show adapted from a particular pop culture icon.

Next, we’ll talk about Faye. Faye was done dirty as hell in this adaptation. She has a superficial entrance that shows all the flash and none of the substance, which is consistent throughout the season. This is Faye:

The real Faye, underneath the persona she keeps. We get none of this Faye. Instead, we get this Faye:

Daniella Pineda doesn’t hit the mark, and plays the character too much like a kitschy, fowl-mouthed teenager. Again, though, some of (perhaps most of) this must be laid at the feet of the writing and directing. This adaptation completely glosses over Honky Tonk Woman, which is an absolute travesty, and it sets the standard for how this adaptation denies Faye her dignity as a smooth operator with a lot more depth than she lets on. The fake mother backstory was atrocious. It shoehorned a glossy, comedy-driven history into a character who never gets her shot at being a real person. There’s a reason the most successful moments with Faye center around her witnessing pieces of the past she’s forgotten--it comes from the original anime and does a much better job exploring the character than any of the veneer that this adaptation paints over the weathered beauty of the original grain. While the lesbian encounter isn’t necessarily beyond conceivable for Faye’s character, this adaptation’s handling of it didn’t offer anything but an obligatory nod to inclusion, much like it’s random, superfluous, and at times gratuitous insertions of BDSM. And I say that as someone with an interest in that community, so it isn’t a prude dismissal of the practice, but a criticism of superficiality in storytelling. Faye wasn’t given the depth she deserved, and too much of her story was glossed over or abandoned for something much less substantial.

Julia. Another female character who was completely declawed and overacted.

You might say, “But the end! She gets her claws!” Yeah, but they aren’t good claws. To be strong she had to become villainous? Not buying it, and it’s not Julia’s character. This adaptation turns Julia into a weepy, soapy damsel, with the intent of giving her an arc which finds her coming out of it strong. The problem is that her character’s arc isn’t consistent. There are episodes where she’ll go from somber damsel to murderous queen with very little provocation, and when she turns on Spike at the end it comes ENTIRELY out of left field. There was no narrative effort made to foreshadow her growing bitterness toward him, and so it feels like a tacked-on twist. And that’s being generous and entertaining the idea that this conceptualization of that triangular relationship is good at all, which I don’t believe it is. The whole situation feels polished and melodramatic, which the director mistakes for style. Julia should be like Spike--jaded and brooding; numbed by a life too long in the greyest moral landscape and surrounded by misery and death for the sake of power and control.

If they wanted to play her character the way they did, it would’ve been stronger to have her pursue the throne almost indifferently, not really knowing her own motivation other than to get out of her situation with Vicious. She should have a marked coldness, but with a dissonant drive to find meaning. She’s empty, but doesn’t know what else to do with herself. She’s drifting, just like Spike, in this dream world. They’ve dissociated to deal with the pain.

Vicious. Criminally over-acted. Again, this could just as easily be laid at the feet of the writing and directing rather than Alex Hassell’s efforts.

I don’t think Hassell was right for the part in general, but this adaptation absolutely eradicates the gravity of Vicious by injecting him with farcical melodrama and yet another weak backstory. He’s portrayed as a loose-cannon with major daddy issues, rather than the cold, calculating raptor that he is in the anime. If anything, Vicious should’ve been UNDER-acted by someone with an enthralling poker-face. When you look into his eyes, you should see nothing.

His motivation is to leave people devastatingly, inexorably face-to-face with their own profound weakness. He is a mercilessly precise psychoanalyzer, and a blade straight to the heart of what makes us fearful about ourselves--the beast, the shadow, perfectly adapted for survival against a meaningless world of dreams. This adaptation forces Vicious to his knees, often literally, completely unable to control himself. The exact opposite of the character’s true nature.

Gren. I don’t have too much to say about Gren, other than I feel they robbed another character of their dignity and weight.

Gren shouldn’t have showed up in this first season. He should’ve arrived in the second season and his story should’ve been kept in tact. He wasn’t trans. His character was a veteran of the War on Titan, and when he was betrayed by his old comrade, Vicious, he became so depressed that he was given an experimental drug which increased his estrogen levels, causing him to grow breasts. Making him trans didn’t offer anything to the character, though Park’s portrayal isn’t without its charm, and I do think they could’ve played the character better. When Park is able to take the character down to earth, they shine much better than the superficial pageantry that defines too much of the character in this iteration. Showrunner Andre Nemec (upon whom I place the majority of blame for this turnout) said in an interview with Entertainment Weekly,

"Gren does not have a good history of becoming a nonbinary character. [It's] dark and didn't feel like the story that I thought was important to tell," Nemec explains. "I never wanted Cowboy Bebop to be a picture of a dystopian future. I wanted it to be nostalgic, but also hopeful. People, I believe, always find their ground, and a way to excel — to live in a better world. A person being nonbinary isn't a discussion. It's just a fact."

source: https://ew.com/tv/cowboy-bebop-mason-alexander-park-gren-nonbinary/

So it becomes clear here that Nemec never had any respect for the tone of the original series to begin with, and Gren’s character alterations were little more than a way to shoehorn in a superficial modern conception of who the character SHOULD be in an idealized iteration of Cowboy Bebop as Nemec himself wanted it, not as it masterfully existed. And it should be remembered, on that point, that Gren may not have been explicitly trans, but he WAS explicitly gay. Nemec would’ve done well to acknowledge that it wasn’t his job to judge the series and build something he thought was morally better, but rather his job was to understand the series at its depths and call forth its essence into reality with good faith and dignity. Instead, he completely abandons the most important aspect of the series: the TONE.

THE TONE:

You cannot tackle a series like Cowboy Bebop--you cannot adapt it in any other form--without first fully understanding and respecting its tone.

Cowboy Bebop (anime) is a bittersweet noir at its core. It is thoughtful, brooding, and existential--even a bit absurdist. But that doesn’t mean it’s grim. On the contrary, it’s absurdism comes out in the playfulness of its jaded characters. Spike isn’t hopeless, he’s unattached.

“Whatever happens, happens.”

“I try not to think.”

He says that, but its only the persona that allows him to slip in and out of any situation without risking attachment. He saves the dog (Ein). He trains Roco. He even empathizes with Vincent, and sees himself and probably even Vicious in that character. He knows what war and violence does to a person, and his spirit lives in understanding for them. He lives as an absurdist, but he has faith (or, at minimum, curiosity) in spirituality. Let’s not forgot the wonderful character of Laughing Bull, which the live-action adaptation completely does away with, to its peril.

Laughing Bull is a part of that hopeful, sweet-in-the-bittersweet nectar of Cowboy Bebop’s tone. What parts of Bebop are bright aren’t without their depth, because the levity is grounded in irreverence most often, with the wonderful exception of Ed, who shines like a supernova and cuts straight through the grit. She’s the perfect counterbalance.

But back to that bittersweet tone, there are elements of the series which define it that Nemec either didn’t grasp or didn’t respect enough to maintain. Too much backstory is shoehorned in, and every backstory is a disastrous farce compared to its supposed inspiration. Jet’s family is superfluous. Faye’s fake mother is a cringe-inducing joke. God only knows what they’re going to do to Ed, who actually has one of the more cohesive backstories, ironically enough. The anime was all about TRANSIENCE.

The backstories of these characters came in fleeting flashes as they reminisced about their lives before the dream began. They all felt as though they’d already lived their better lives, and in the wake of the collapse of those lives they’ve been living in a dream defined by ennui and mourning. They’re living day to day, moment to moment, and slowly the whiff of family begins to collect again around this ragtag team of bounty hunters. But it can’t last, because everyone’s past comes back to collect in one way or another. They’re released from the dream of the Bebop, and just as quickly as their stories merged, they diverged once again and all were on their way.

That transience is given stylistic lip service in this live-action adaptation, as much of the story’s deeper elements are--if they exist at all for Nemec’s unfaithful interpretation. Nemec didn’t understand the assignment. He was the wrong man for the job.

The directing was atrocious. An absurd amount of canted angles. Overdramatizing fish-eye close-ups.

Rickety choreography (although Spike’s eradication of the Neptune gang is a standout shot). The acting was campy, as though the director and showrunner assume that any adaptation from an animated series must have a superfluous quality to it--which is another example of not understanding the assignment. The cinematography, among a host of other style elements, seemed hell-bent on robbing the story of any gravity and dignity it may have had and supplanting it with insubstantial style and pageantry. This effort is an insult not only to the characters and the story, but to the spirit of the music which gives the show its soul. There was no dignity to this adaptation. I keep going back to that, but it’s so incredibly important, and its the smoking gun of a failed assignment. You cannot tackle a series like Cowboy Bebop--you cannot adapt it in any other form--without first fully understanding and respecting its tone. The tone is the whole spirit of a show like this.

It is the single most defining aspect of the work, and if you do not do your homework and engage with it deeply and emotionally so that you come out of it with a sense of responsibility rather than viewing it as an established name within which you can inject your own narratives, then you will deservedly, devastatingly fail. This series is a caricature of Cowboy Bebop, not an adaptation of it. It is a cursory understanding, if that, of the series as a whole. Watanabe voiced concerns that his consulting role was little respected, and those concerns turned out to be absolutely justified. They didn’t seem to want Cowboy Bebop. They wanted an established vehicle for a highly stylized Netflix venture.

RADICAL EDWARD:

There is but one victim here, and that is Eden Perkins, who was shamefully shredded over scarcely a minute of their debut as Radical Edward--which they probably hoped would be their break-out role. But instead, this thirteen year-old kid, who was very excited to have the opportunity to play such a fantastic character, was poorly directed and eviscerated by strangers, now without the opportunity to prove themselves any better. The show was cancelled, leaving Perkins to wade through all the criticism for the shortest and most impactful role of their life. What an absolute tragedy, and shame on the people who willfully disconnected themselves from the kid so they could get some heavy blows in for fun. Criticism is one thing, but the cruelty deserves a thorough, merciless shaming.

If Perkins ever reads this, don’t let it get you down. Stand back up and move forward to the next thing. This doesn’t have to be your bitter swan song. You were failed by those who adapted it. You never had a chance. It wasn’t fair.

THE END:

I think it was a good decision to end the first season on Fallen Angels, and that episode has strong moments. The fight between Vicious and Spike actually turned out better than I expected, and the dialogue in the key moment was kept well, and even delivered pretty decently. Aside from that, the Julia twist was an absolutely nauseating disaster of a decision.

A terrible idea born out of a misguided effort to concoct a culturally appealing evil queen out of a character who didn’t deserve that sort of treatment. It wasn’t properly developed, the moment came as a profoundly unwelcome surprise, and its intended narrative purpose--to end the season with Spike having no one left--is heavily overshadowed by its tone-deaf attempt to establish as many hard-ass female characters as it can manage. The story already had them, but this adaptation has no understanding of what made them so.

Instead, it opts for more pageantry that isolates us from the characters rather than drawing us in toward their depths. It understands characters as icons, not people. Insofar as it understands them as people, they only mimic personality. They don’t embody the suffering of real people. The anime used down-to-earth dialogue and character development to bring a stylized sci-fi noir down to reality, with little gushing over its own superficial appeal. Netflix’s adaptation uses style as a stand-in for depth of character development and story. It spends a lot of time developing bad character stories where the original anime could poetically tell many, many character stories with precisely chosen vignettes to much greater artistic effect. Where the anime’s attention to detail was esoteric and understated, the Netflix adaptation takes every opportunity to flash itself to us, and the details are all superficial nostalgia.

OVER ALL (TL/DR):

This adaptation takes in the original anime superficially. It sees the style and denies the value of the substance, instead opting to supplant it with its own far less intuitive, far more superficial restructuring of the characters and story. It shoehorns in terrible expansions and reimaginings of the characters’ stories, which completely decimates the intimacy of the dysfunctional ragtag family unit of the Bebop crew. It attempts to regain this with saccharine throw-away lines and a complete misunderstanding of the value of hope in the context of this series, which only comes to this crew in relation to the bitter pasts which showrunner Andre Nemec (pictured below) vocally denied the value of--but which gives that hope weight rather than just shallow platitude. He wanted the series to be hopeful rather than dystopian, completely missing the fact that it isn’t dystopian--it’s noir. Mars is a thriving place, as are multiple places the crew finds themselves. It’s their world which is cold and hypnagogic. Their personal worlds. The lives they’ve led.

More than anything else, this adaptation abandons the most important aspect of the series: the tone. It doesn’t engage in the story at its depths of psychology or philosophy, which is the only way to understand the profound value of it. They sacrificed substance for style, and threw out its meaningful struggles in favor of poppy, kitschy, edgy fluff. It doesn’t respect the source material, which Watanabe himself complained of in regards to his tertiary role as a consultant--which only seems to be credited as an obligation and for disingenuous credibility, despite Watanabe’s vocal concerns about how little his opinions seemed to be valued in adapting Cowboy Bebop. Read a quick note about that here: https://comicbook.com/anime/news/cowboy-bebop-live-action-netflix-anime-creator-comment/

The series is an unfaithful failure in the final analysis. Yoko Kanno, Mustafa Shakir, and Tamara Tunie did what they could, but it couldn’t fix a bad faith adaptation. Looking forward to owning the new music, though.

See you, space cowboy.

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magic-missle-blog · 3 years ago

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Ghost division

approx 5k words

The teacher stood in front of her class, looking over the rows of teenagers. The red sun shone through the glass illuminating the brightly coloured room and the wooden desks. The youngsters were mostly green skinned mammalian Drek, like herself, although she did have two reptilian Gath, shorter and stockier than the Drek, they sat on specially made chairs to accommodate there long tails, Their parents had recently moved to this colony, the new mines and the wealth therein drew sentients from all over the galaxy. Most were dressed in a similar fashion, dark blue trousers and skin tight teeshirts with a Varity of symbols of cartoon characters. She inwardly shuddered at the fashion sense of the young,

:readmore:

Off to the side was a older Drek, he was an elder, over 70 years old and even though his once blue hair was now all grey, and his back had a slight stoop, he stood proud and his eyes were bright. He had on a dark green military uniform, a couple of shades darker than his skin. The rank badge on his chest showed he was a captain, the dagger with wings on his sleeve showed he was in the war fleet.

“Class” the teacher began “We have a special guest with us today. As you know tomorrow is 'Alliance day', the most important holiday we have, and it’s a very special one. Tomorrow marks fifty years since the alliance between Drek and Gath, fifty years since the foundation of the united galactic council, fifty years since the Canidations were defeated and peace was restored to the galaxy.”

She took a breath. “Please give a warm welcome to captain Furon.”

The teacher clapped her 6 fingered hands together and sat down behind desk.

Captain Furon walked smartly to stand in front of the class. He precisely placed a bottle of water down next to some paperwork on the crowded wooden desk. All eyes were on his uniform and side arm.

He looked at the teacher. “Thank you for the most gracious introduction.” He said with a smile.

“I want to tell you about the battle for this colony; it was the turning point in the great war, but ...before I begin, who can tell me how the alliance started?”

A forest of hands rose in the air. Furon pointed to one of the Gath students. The student stood up and said in a hissing voice. “Sixty or so years ago a race called the Canidations tried to conquer the galaxy, they invaded and destroyed many worlds. The Canidations attacked both the Gath and Drek our empires bordered one another. We stood together, and fought off attack after attack, eventually driving the Canidations back into their space. After the war ended, our peoples joined in the alliance and started the galactic council, over the years we invited four other species into The Alliance.”

The reptilian sat back down.

As the student spoke Furon nodded along. Once the Gath had returned to his seat, the captain said “That’s the official bare bones history, but it’s not the full truth.”

Captain Furon looked around the class. “It started with the Canidations, that right enough, but what you don’t realise is just how powerful they were. They had more ships, more weapons than any other species, several times over. In their home system there was a gas giant with many moons, these moons were the size of small planets and the Canidations built factories. Giant factories that could mass produce warships in great numbers. Their fleet had tens of thousands of fighters, thousands of cruisers and hundreds of capital ships. The Canidations were a strong warrior race, with a high birth rate. The soon outstripped the resources on their home worlds and wanted more.” his voice turns cold “They were a plague. They couldn’t be reasoned with or bargained with, they believed they were the only true form of intelligent life, everything else was simply an animal to be destroyed.”

He looks lost in memories for a moment, the room is silent, hanging on his every word, For the first time the students actually grasped that standing before them was a warrior, a man who had lived through the horror of the great war .A man who had stood toe to toe with the Arachnidiod Canidations, who had spat in there ruby coloured multifaceted eyes.

Furon continued “In ten years the Canidations invaded and slaughtered five species and with every conquest their blood-lust grew and grew, they gave no quarter, gave no mercy. The wounded, civilians, even children were all fair targets to them.

The seemed unstoppable, we knew it was coming of course. The Drek and Gath were next in line, as the Canidations territory expanded it was a matter of time until they were at our door. We tried to build up our fleets, improve our weapons and fortify out colonies but it was futile.”

He reached for the bottle of water on the teacher desk and took along slow sip, then continued.

“Around 7 years after the war started the Canidations attacked a Gath border post, a few months later they attacked one of our convoys. Normally only a fool starts a war on two fronts, but the Canidations were so powerful and so arrogant they didn’t care. Then they made a mistake. They opened up another front. They attacked The Terrain Empire.”

The class murmured and looked around. This was new information. The Terrans don’t have an empire, they are generally vagabonds or mercs, and they are rare. The population only a few hundred thousand individuals across know space, in fact, no one in the class had ever seen one.

Furon continued “The Terrans, or Humans and they were sometimes known, were a relatively young race. They only had interstellar travel for a few decades, but they quickly built up a small empire. As a young race no one really considered them a threat, including the Canidations, but they were wrong. You see humans had one great strength, adaptability. The Canidations became warriors, but Humans were born for war. In the 5000 years of recorded human history there was not one single day when some part of the planet was not at war. They could see as well as we could what was coming so they built up their fleets and dusted off ancient tactics renewed and improved for a new age. When the Canidations first attacked the Terran Empire, they terrans would lose three ships for every one Canidation vessel killed, but with every battle, every loss the humans learned. They studied the enemy, they adapted. After six months it was one to one, and after a further six it took five Canidation warships to kill a Terran vessel. The humans tech advanced at an unmatched pace. They created new and unique weapons and defences, but it was not enough. Even with losses of 5 to one the Canidations were so many that those loses was a victory, however it slowed the advance into Terran space, and forced then to pull resources from Gath and Drek space to fight the Terrans, giving us much needed breathing room. The advance slowed, but it did not stop,”

Furon took a breath

“I want to tell you about a battle, a very important battle that took place here, in orbit of this colony towards the end of the war. This was the most important battle in the history of the Drek, because it paved the way for the alliance.”

“Back then this colony had around ten million people, and it was an important supply and repair centre for the fleet. At first it was far inside Drek space but as the Canidations pushed onwards this world soon became a target. We tried to evacuate the civilian population but we didn’t have the ships or resources, our fleets were spread so thin as Canidation attacks hit all over the empire. Around seven million people were left when the Canidation death fleet arrived. I was a young officer stationed in the bridge of the Warship 'Firestorm', part of small defence force, all that high command could spare. Our orders were to defend the colony at all costs.”

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

Ensign Furon looked up from his screen. The green and black display flashed in warning. “Captain....sensors have just picked up a large Canidation fleet heading this way. We have 30 minutes until they reach the system.”

The captain looked around his small bridge. The red emergency lights shrouded his crew in an eerie glow, various consoles beeped for attention, chair creaked as people shifted. His crew were at battle stations, ready to fight and die if needed. The Firestorm was destroyer class Warship, Small and fast yet it packed a punch. He was proud of his ship and knew it inside and out. “How large?”

Furon checked his screen, “six capital ships, thirty cruisers, five carriers....we're outnumbered six to one.”

The captain checked the status of the other ships in his fleet. A ragged assortment of cruisers and destroyers most damaged to some extent from the constant warfare, they were only here as this was the closest repair station to the front. There were various other civilian ships in orbit and a large ring of defensive satellites. The civilians he could discount as they were unarmed, but the satellites might be able to help...and then there was the repair station itself, upgraded with the latest weapons..... Captain Brekka shook his head, in his heart of hearts he knew it wasn’t enough, the firepower the Canidation fleet had would cut through the colonies defences like a hot knife through butter.

“Comms open a general distress call”

“Channel opens Captain”

The captain

“This is captain Brekka of the Drek warship Firestorm. We have incoming hostile craft; we are in orbit of Baldur colony. If anyone can help. Please come. We have transport full of children, please assist.”

The Comms office waited a few moments, “nothing captain, no reply”

The first officer, a tall Drek with long lanky limbs replied “all ships are battle ready and moving into formation, plasma cannons are charging. The colony rail guns are active and defensive satellites fully powered. We'll squash those fucking bugs like a spider under our boots'”

The captain smiled a rare smile. He appreciated Firsts attempt to raid the crew’s spirits but everyone knew they didn’t stand a chance.

“Furon. Status of the evacuation ships”

Furon checked his screen. “Three are fully loaded and taking off, the remaining ten will be airborne within twenty minutes. There have been delays, people are crowding on. Its chaos down there.” The main view screen showed various scenes of the plant below. Parents trying to push their children onto the waiting transports, civilian craft fleeing. People fighting each other and trying to flee.

“Cutting it close...” the captain said. He pressed a button on his command console, opening a channel to his fleet. “Prepare to break orbit, defend the transports at all costs.”

The bridge crew looked at the captain. The first office spoke up. “But captain...the planet....there are seven million people...”

The captain, his face drawn, heart heavy, looked at the sensor display. He knew what was going to happen. Those capital ships would smash the space dock as the cruisers destroyed the satellites and ground cannons. Once the defences were down they would bombard the colony with fusion bombs. A few might survive in outlying settlements, or if they managed to get to the bunkers....but by this time tomorrow most would be dead. “There’s nothing we can do for them, but if we defend the transports at least the children will survive.”

Minutes seemed like hours. Furon checked and rechecked the status of the Canidation fleet as they drew closer. The tension was unbearable. A trickle of sweat crawled like a spider down his spine.

CLICK CLACK.

CLICK CLACK

Someone was clicking a pen.

CLICK CLACK

CLICK ...

The first office strode across the bridge and plucked the pen from the officer at fire control. With a grunt the pen was crushed in the firsts strong hand.

Blue eyes glued to the screen, Furon was the first to see the Canidations dropped out of hyperspace just shy of the planets gravity well and began their approach at sub light.

Heavy cruisers bristling with weapons, smaller but faster destroyers, behind that the capital ships. Monsters made of titanium and horror, each one ten times the size of his own vessel. Last but certainly not least the carriers with their cargo of small deadly fighters.

“Five minutes until weapons range” Furon said. The captain sat in his chair, still as a rock watching the sensor display on the main screen. The transports had all reached orbit and were slowly moving out of the gravity well where they could safely activate hyper drive, but they were slow, far too slow.

“Captain” Furon said with alarm “Enemy fleet is breaking formation.”

On the screen the carriers offloaded their cargo of small sleek fighters. Fast and deadly shaped like locusts, they were moving around the Drek fleet to try to flank the transports, as the main body of cruisers attacked head on. The capital ships headed straight for the colony, where their large guns and mass drivers would rain death on the helpless people below.

The captain knew the colony was doomed; all he could do was try to save the transports. Save as many people as he could. He knew his duty, but hated himself for abandoning the colony.

The captain pressed a button on his command console “Sword, Wildcat, intercept those fighters, the rest of you, battle formation, buy those transports as much time as you can....it’s been an honour serving with you.” He cut the channel, nothing else needed to be said. He looked around the bridge crew, emotion plain on the green faces, anger, hatred, but no fear. They faced death but they wouldn’t go down easy and with luck their sacrifice would save thousands of Drek on those transports. The captain couldn’t have been prouder.

“Two minutes until weapons range” Furon said

The incoming ships slowly grew in size as they drew closer.

“Weapon range in 90 seconds, the first transport is 3 minutes from the minimum safe FTL jump point, the last transport is 10 minutes away. Fighters will intercept transports in 3 minutes” Furon said.

So, Captain Drek thought, it’s not all in vein, a few transports will be safe and we’ll buy the rest as much time as we can.

“Weapons range in one minute....wait...captain....I’m picking up something on Comms, its an audio . it sounds like a...a howl?” when the captain nodded furon opened the channel. An eerie moan, filled the bridge. Words, almost two low to catch were mixed in the scary sound, “we are the ghost division, we are your death...”

Furon had turned a sickly pale blue colour. He cut of the channel, and turned to the captain, he was about to speak when his station beeped. “Captain, its a distress call its...it’s from the Canidation capital ships... they want aid....the call has cut off”. Furon said confused.

The screen zoomed into capital ships closing in on the planet, but where the there should have been six monstrous death machine, only four could be seen. Two expanding clouds of debris still glowing, were the remains of the others. As they watched a bright red explosion blossomed from the main hull of another ship, it quickly consumed the huge vessel. As it died a bright yellow explosion from the rear of the ship, the fusion plant loosing containment no doubt, finished it off.

On the main screen an explosion destroyed an enemy destroyer, and then another destroyed a cruiser. Within a few second ten Canidation ships were no more than glowing space dust.

The line of incoming ships dissolved into chaos. They fired weapons all around. The Drek couldn’t see anything though, the Canidations seemed to have gone mad, firing at empty space.

The first office looked up “the cruisers and fighters are breaking off they’re heading to the capital ships...what the fuck is happening?”

The bridge was a jumble of activity. Sensor reports were coming in, the Comms system was going crazy as the other ships in the fleet reported the same thing, asking for orders.

Furon shouted over the noise on the bridge “something is attacking them, I’m reading...fuck I don’t know what I’m reading. I’ve never seen anything like this. Weird gravity spikes, then ships appearing then vanishing. If I didn’t know better I’d say the sensors were damaged.”

The screen showed the Canidation fleet in full retreat. Black ships around the size of destroyers appeared out of no where, fired a barrage of projectile and energy weapons then vanished again. It didn’t matter where the Canidations turned or how the dodged, a ship always appeared, fired and vanished. It made it impossible to target them, or get an accurate count of numbers. When the new sleek warhips were sure of a direct hit they would fire a large torpedo, the weapon didn’t seem to have any guidance, but it packed a punch. Any cruiser it hit was killed, and even the monstrous capital ships were destroyed. With one missile. Brekka had no idea what the warhead was, but it was immensely powerful. It seemed to vapourise anything it hit rather than exploding like a normal missiles

The Comms office piped up “incoming hail”

“On screen” Brekka said

The screen changed from the confusion of battle to a video call.

A tall dark skinned human in a dark grey uniform appeared on screen.

“I’m captain Conroy of the Terran warship Lucifer; we received your distress call. Your transports will be safe now, want to help us mop up the rest of these bastards?” he asked with a grin.

Brekka let out a Drek war cry and said to the crew.

“You heard the good captain. Give them Hell”

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

“The battle lasted less than 30 minutes. We didn’t lose a single ship, neither did the humans. Only one Canidation ship survived, and that was because the humans let it go. ‘Teach them to fear the wrath of Earth’ Captain Conroy told us. We offered the humans shore leave but they declined, they had a mission. To spread fear among the Canidations, to hit hard without mercy and vanish like ghosts. That battle was a major victory, it inspired our people, and it showed that non Drek could help, would be willing to help so in turn we could help others. Due to the humans example the Firestorm was the first Drek ship on the scene when a small flotilla of Canidations attacked a Gath supply line, we helped save a half dozen Gath ships. The Gath returned the favour and soon we were fighting side by side. It was from these small actions the alliance was born. If it wasn’t for the Terran ghost division, the alliance would never have happened.”

Hands rose as Furon finished history. “What happened to the humans? How could they make their ships invisible, what kind of weapons did they use?” a jumble of voices asked various questions.

Furon smiled and raised his hands for silence.

“We don’t know what stealth tech the human ships used, we think they could manipulate artificial gravity in some way to bend light and sensor beams around the ships but we can’t replicate it yet. As for the weapons, well they used tungsten projectiles fired from rail guns and plasma based energy weapons for the most part...but those torpedoes... they were something else. We managed to recover a few that missed their targets. From what we gather they used some kind of exotic matter with negative mass to generate an antigravity wave, That wave was unstoppable, and any matter caught in it was destroyed and changed into energy. This caused a chain reaction, if effectively turned the ships own armour into an energy blast. “

Furon took another drink.

“As for what happened to them....they spread fear among the Canidations. For months Ghost division stuck Canidation ships. Burned colonies, wherever that eerie sound would play Canidations died by the hundreds and thousands. They spreads So much fear that the Canidations halted their advance into Gath and Drek space and committed almost everything to the destruction of Earth. The humans fought hard and made the Canidation bleed for every inch but eventually the humans were pushed back into their home system. tens of Thousands of Canidation ships dropped out of FTL into the Sol system, almost the entire Canidation fleet, almost every and solider so they could watch humanity die.

The terrans had pulled everything back into Earth orbit, every ship, and every colonist. Everything other than ghost division

It must have been an amazing sight, the two biggest fleets the galaxy has ever seen...ready to fight to the death.”

Furon looked around the class

“But the humans...they were vindictive bastards, and clever. From what we gather they built one last torpedo. It must have been huge, at least a mile long, and filled with millions of tonnes of exotic matter. They fired it directly into their own sun causing it to go supernova. The Gravity wave of the dying star made FTL impossible. The entire Canidation fleet was wiped out in one go, millions of Canidations, dead In a heartbeat, I sometimes wonder what when through their mind before they were blasted into ash. Then the alliance struck. Our ships, the combined might of the Gath and Drek empires attacked. We hunted down and wiped out every last Canidation ship, but when we arrived in the home system, we found it had already been killed. The ghost division had been there first...no Canidations survived the human’s wrath. The home world had been cracked open like an egg. Every planet and moon that had even a hint of canidation presence was sterilized.”

The Gath that had spoken earlier said with awe “the humans destroyed their own home world rather than let it fall...they must have been mighty warriors.”

Furon smiled

“Oh they were re than mighty warriors. They were inventors, thinker ands dreamers. After the supernova had passed and it was safe, mercy vessels from the alliance went into the remains of the sol system... we knew it was hopeless but we owed it to the terrans to look for survivors. We found the smashed remains of the two inner planets, and the irradiated husk of the fourth planet. We found a diamond thousands of miles wide, all that remained of the planet after the atmosphere had been blown away. But of earth there was nothing, no debris, no wreckage, nothing.”

“ Just before the supernova wave reached earth, our long range scopes picked up something odd, a massive energy spike. We think the humans somehow created an artificial wormhole, they used the power from the supernova to rip open time and space. They shifted their entire planet, their moon and the whole fleet and left the Canidations to die. They used their own planet as bait and their star as the biggest bomb the galaxy has ever seen. You might say its impossible, but Humans could dream the impossible and make it possible...I don’t know if it s true or not, but they might still out there somewhere and could come back one day., and if they do i hope to all the gods that they come in peace.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #hfy #ghostdivison #ghost division

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

#Tatooine #Mandalore #Jedi #culture clash #star wars #the clone wars #Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #family #war #Phoenix Posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #Phoenix Answers Asks #I have no idea how accurate this is but it's what I'm working with

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

Text

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Memories

Intro

Intro, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Satan

*it’s a somewhat rare day in the House of Lamentation because most of the brothers are peacefully together in the same room for once. They aren’t always known to hang out in the Common Room but today Satan is getting his nails redone by Asmo while Mammon, Beel, and Levi all face off against each other in a mobile game they’ve found recently. Belphie is there too, but mostly in spirit as he naps on the couch. For once, it seems that everyone is either lounging on the couches or laying on the floor doing their own thing with nary a fight in sight*

*the only person missing from their little gathering is Lucifer… something that gets remedied all too soon as the eldest walks by the entrance with the MC quietly by his side. Satan is the first to notice them pass by and it only takes a glimpse for him to see something unusual about the pair...*

*the MC is carrying a suitcase*

Satan: MC? Are you going on a trip?

*Satan’s voice breaks the previously peaceful silence and gets everyone else’s attention, quickly setting their sights on the doorway as well. Having been noticed, Lucifer and MC are forced to stop so they all can see… Automatically, there’s something off about the MC. They’re glancing down at the floor, unable to meet their eyes, while Lucifer scans the others with the same expression he gives during important meetings… The look he only uses when things are delicate and he’s warning them to be on good behavior*

*Mammon is the first to get back to his feet, already sensing that something is wrong here*

Mammon: Oi? What’s goin’ on? What’s with the bags??

Levi: *sits up next his brother, panicking slightly* You didn’t say we were going anywhere! I’m waiting on a package!!

Beel: Are we leaving…? I haven’t packed any snacks yet…

*Lucifer waves his brothers down, hardening his glare for a moment to get the point across*

Lucifer: Settle down. *he doesn’t keep his eyes on them for long because he’s soon looking down at the MC with a much softer expression, resting a hand on their back tenderly*

Lucifer: Would you like to tell them, or should I…?

MC: No, no… It’s fine. I can do it…

*their human’s somber tone is like an alarm bell to every demon in the room and by now they’re all waiting at attention - even Belphie seems more alert than ever. Something has made their human is sad… But why? What’s changed? Had they upset them? Has someone hurt them?? The MC can already feel the air getting tense as their dear pact-mates wait for them to name their target...*

MC: It’s nothing to worry about, guys. I… just need to go to the human world for a few days… A friend of mine has died recently and I want… No, I am going to the funeral… *and like that the tension in the room evaporates immediately as all their expressions soften…*

Asmo: Oh, MC… That’s awful! *he’s on his feet in an instant to be at their side and offering a hug which the MC gladly accepts. He plants a soft kiss on their temple while holding them tight*

Asmo: I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, sweetheart, but we’re here for you…

*the MC feels a large hand rest on their shoulder as Beel comes up beside Asmo, nodding*

Beel: Yeah… We’re here.

*taking a cue from their brothers, the rest of the boys all get to their feet as necessary and come to the MC’s side - either reaching out to try and hold them or simply hovering close by - but Lucifer stops them just short of making contact*

Lucifer: We shouldn’t crowd them…

MC: It’s alright, Lucifer… *they give Asmo a short squeeze to signal they’re letting go before taking a step back from them all* I won’t be gone for long, everyone… I just need to be with my family and friends for a little while…

Asmo: *steps back, but keeps ahold of their hands* Wait, do you have something to wear? Humans wear black at funerals, don’t they? Or is it white? I can find something for you before you go!

Satan: *glances at their suitcase, genuinely concerned* Is that all you’re bringing...? Did you remember to pack your toothbrush? Socks?

Beel: *already digging in his pockets for a spare bag of treats* Do you need snacks for the trip?

Belphie: They’re probably just going by portal, Beel…

Beel: *frowns* But it’s a long walk…

*their combined concern is enough to make the MC smile just a bit, relaxing their demons some, but they still only shake their head*

MC: Thank you, guys, but I have everything I need at home… Lord Diavolo is letting Barbs take me home, Beel, so don’t worry. I won’t starve. I just need to stop by the Castle first...

Mammon: Ah, so that’s where we’re goin’? Alright! *he breaks away from his brothers and starts walking down the hall, looking back at the MC with full expectation that they’ll follow* Come on. MC! Let’s get movin’.

*the MC stands frozen for a moment or two in the hallway before slowly taking yet another step away from the brothers, to their collective confusion*

MC: Thank you, guys… Really… I love you all… But I think I need just a little time to clear my head before I… Before I, uh… *they glance to Lucifer, feeling guilty and trying not to wince, but the eldest seems to pick up on what they’re trying to say*

Lucifer: Ah… of course… *he turns to his brothers, Mammon in particular, before taking a step aside to start clearing the hall* Everyone, since we’re all staying here, let’s give the MC some space… *again, he throws another glance at Mammon, knowing how clingy his brother can be, and sure enough...*

Mammon: Eh? Whatcha talkin’ about...?

*the secondborn, bless his heart, doesn’t seem to be following what the MC is trying to say… and why would he? He and the MC have been thick as thieves since they made their pact in the first place... Thankfully, Satan and Levi are much faster on the uptake and they both swiftly yank him out of the way*

Levi: It means that they want to walk there alone, you idiot…! *he huffs at his elder brother, but it's not hard to see that he looks a little disappointed himself... The MC shoots them all a sympathetic look before their eyes again cast down to the floor*

MC: I’m sorry, everyone… I know you’re worried, but I just need a little time to think and prepare myself before going back home again…

Satan: You have nothing to feel sorry for, MC… We understand. *he keeps ahold of Mammon’s wrist as he smiles to his brother* Don’t we, Mammon? *his grip tightens like a vice, even though his smile never wavers...*

Mammon: Ow!! Okay, okay, I get it!! *he pulls his arm out of Satan’s grasp and glares at him before looking back at the MC. He tries his best to smile at them like he isn’t bothered by the situation… but everyone knows better*

Mammon: I get ya, MC… Take your time, we'll be here for ya when ya get back!

*the MC watches their loyal first demon letting them go on their own for once and sends him a teary-eyed smile*

MC: Thank you, Mammon… Everyone��

*they finally turn away from their demons and start down the hall to the doorway. If any of the brothers want to call out or stop them, they hold it in until they hear the heavy door close with a 'thunk'*

*it a minute or two before one of the brothers finally works up the nerve to break silence they're all sharing*

Asmo: Poor MC… *his hands cradle his cheeks in a bid for self-comfort...*

Lucifer: Yes… human lives are quite fragile…

Levi: Should we do something for them when they get back…?

Mammon: *huffs* No duh! Satan, what do humans usually do after funerals?

*the fourthborn sighs at his brother's vague question, but crosses his arms as he starts to think*

Satan: Well… There's usually mourning… Humans sometimes take time off of work or school so that they can adjust to their grief...

Lucifer: *nods* I'll be sure to let Diavolo know, then.

Satan: Aside from that it depends on the household… Some come together and others don’t talk very much. I've heard that some humans may even hold a celebration of sorts for the departed.

Beel: *starts drooling* Then we could make them a cake…!

Belphie: *sighs* I don't think that's a good idea, Beel… What if they don’t do that?

Beel: Oh… *gets a little disappointed*

Mammon: Well, what are we supposed to do? Pretend they're fine?? Ain’t there somethin’ ya can think of, Satan?

*Mammon turns to the blonde of the group, but instead of looking mildly irritated at his insistence the fourthborn is glaring at the ground - seemingly lost in thought*

Mammon: …. Um, yo? Satan? *Mammon gives him a minute to react but to his frustration, Satan doesn't look up...*

Mammon: Hey, Hell to Satan!! Hello?? *Mammon shakes his brother's shoulder, snapping him back to reality long enough to get his his hand slapped away*

Satan: Mammon, stop that!

Mammon: You're the one who went quiet!

*the rest of the brothers all watch Satan quizzically, it’s unlike him to space out mid-conversation…*

Asmo: Is something wrong, Satan?

*hearing the question, Satan’s anger quickly melts back into contemplation as he avoids his brothers' stares*

Satan: Well…

Mammon: Spit it out, will ya??

*Satan's fist comes down hard on his brother's head and makes a pretty good bump in its place*

Satan: Be quiet, moron, I'm thinking!!

*while Mammon angrily rubs his head, Satan looks away from them again - well aware of the Pandora's Box he's about to open…*

Satan: I was thinking about MC… and how they're human…

Belphie: *raises an eyebrow* Yeah? So?

Levi: *smiles slyly, snark already in his eyes before it hits his tongue* Did you just figure that out...?

*Satan shoots them a sideways glare before facing away towards the room’s fireplace*

Satan: No. Obviously not.

Satan: ...What I meant to say is, the MC is going to die...

*and like that, all the air in the room seemingly vanishes… Nothing Satan has said is incorrect, but the brothers have always had something of an understanding about this… The MC was mortal, their life would end, but it wasn't something to just… you know...*

*Mammon is the first on the defensive*

Mammon: Hey, hey, hey why ya gotta bring that up now, Satan?? The MC's fine!

Satan: I know that! *his tone snaps a bit as he only glances at his brothers' direction* But let's think about it for a second… What about us?

Asmo: *shifts uncomfortably and hugs his arms to his chest* I don't think I like where this is going…

*when Asmo glances as Lucifer, he sees his eyes are locked on Satan in a steely glare... Though it's pretty obvious he doesn't like this subject either, he seems more hesitant to put a stop to it…*

Lucifer: Yes… We will all die too… But what are you getting at, Satan?

*the fourthborn seems to pause, then breaks away from his brothers fully so he can walk closer to the fire - letting the heat brush against his skin*

Satan: If I recall, Diavolo has told us in the past that we won't die like humans, or even angels...

*he looks across the fireplace mantle for a picture frame, then takes it in both hands. The picture inside is not very interesting, just one of House back in its better years... He starts to slide the image out as he continues*

Satan: As Avatars of our sins, we will exist as long as temptation remains present. We won't die exactly, but we'll be reborn instead…

Lucifer: *raises an eyebrow, still trying to follow his train of thought but getting impatient* Where are you going with this, Satan…?

Mammon: *huffs, crossing his arms* Yeah! Get to the point already...

Belphie: *yawns*... Or I’m just going to take a nap...

*if their impatience is bothering him, Satan - for once - doesn't show it as he presents them with the grainy picture*

Satan: When we're reborn, will we forget the MC?

*the room appears to freeze for a moment as everyone holds a collective breath… Some are still trying to follow Satan's logic, others pick up on what he means all too quickly…*

Mammon: W-... What are you talkin' about…? 'Course we won't! *the secondborn chews at his lip while Levi nervously thumbs his headphones...*

Levi: Yeah… What Mammon said. Even if we're reborn, it's still us right? *Levi glances around to the others for confirmation, something an anxious Asmo is quick to give*

Asmo: Y-yeah! If it's us, then we have to remember them somewhere…!

Satan: *shakes his head* We can't be certain… In the human world, it's said reincarnated individuals rarely remember their former lives...

Belphie: *glares at the blonde sharply, the topic of their death clearly agitating him more than the most* Well this isn't the human world, Satan!

Satan: *meets his anger in kind, knowing full well that he doesn’t relish the subject either* And do you have anything else to go off of? It's not like any of us have died yet!

*with that an uneasy silence settles over the brothers as the gravity of the situation takes hold... A possible future with no memories of MC… At some level, they had all approached the idea that they would pass on but to have no memories at all just…*

Asmo: So we'll just… forget them…? *even though it seems only a distant possibility, tears are already threatening to spill from his eyes...*

Mammon: You're wrong…

Beel: But I don't want to… *Beel looks solemnly down at Belphie, then to Lucifer, before he quietly realizes that there isn't anything either of them can do...*

Mammon: You're wrong.

Levi: M… M-MC…. *his bottom lip quivers as he fights to keep himself together somehow… What will happen to his Henry…?*

Mammon: You got it all WRONG!!

*in a flash of light and heat, Mammon's demon form whips out in its full glory but his body is trembling... Both his fists are at his sides, white-knuckled from frustration, and his head hangs low so his brothers can't see his eyes...*

Mammon: I won't forget MC… We won't forget MC…!

*everyone watches him cautiously, but Satan is the first to speak...*

Satan: Mammo-

*Mammon cuts him off by unfurling his wings, knocking Levi and Belphie back in the process*

Mammon: Shut UP! I don't want to hear it!! We'll remember them and that's final, ya got that?!

*though everybody knows that Mammon doesn't have any power over the situation, much less the authority to give them orders, his point has been made. This conversation is over...*

*with that, Mammon retracts his wings and stalks out of the room quickly - likely to run to his bedroom and vent his aggression. Among the remaining brothers, there doesn’t look to be much willingness to keep talking…*

Lucifer: Well… Thank you, Satan, for bringing that to our attention… *his acknowledgement expresses no gratitude, but no sarcasm either… it seems even Lucifer has been dulled by this topic…*

Lucifer: I think we can all agree to never bring this up again… *there's a quiet nod among the brothers, but none are willing to meet his eyes...*

Lucifer: Then so be it...

*another silence hangs in the air before Lucifer is the first to move*

Lucifer: It's been a long day… Everyone, get some rest.

*following his lead, the rest of the brothers begin to file out to their bedrooms one-by-one, until only Satan remains. He sighs, dropping the picture in his hand into the fire to watch it blacken and burn to ash…*

*though he loathes to admit it, Mammon's words have struck a chord with him… He won't forget the MC... And little did he know, that same vow has done the same for the rest of his brothers as well...*

*They won't forget the MC… not if they have anything to say about it*

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me memories #obey me fic #long post #angst

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fluffyydumplings · 3 years ago

Text

Promise

Witch One Will Win? - Part 4

Summary: As you get closer to someone, the more promises you’d want to make.

Word Count: 641

Pairings: dragon hybrid!reader x witch!yoongi x writer!jimin /alien!jungkook x vampire!hoseok × werewolf!taehyung

Genre: fluff / crack!au / angst / fantasylau / sci-fi!au

Warnings: self-doubt and blame / insecurity over oneself

A/N: I had this ready four days ago, but never cared to actually post it. :).. The best author award goes to! Drum roll please.. 😑

The next part will be from Yoongi, Y/N and Jimin’s point of view. Brace yourselves. (This is really short, that I have to say) - I accidentally made a dad joke. I’ll reveal it per request. :].. Have fun reading.

Series Masterlist

‘Tae.. Are you in there?’ Hoseok’s concerned voice surges through the opening of the door.

‘Hyung... I’m so weak, pathetic and lacking of everything.. I couldn't protect my mate..’

‘I let her slip away.. I wasn't and still am not perfect enough.’

‘Hyung.. Let's talk outside. It's stuffy in there. Are you okay?’ Jungkook’s worried.

‘You actually care about me, kiddo?’

‘As if..’

A scoff is followed after.

‘Fine.. Fine.. I do! So.. Please come outside and talk to us..’

‘Kook finally stopped trying to win for once? Cute.’

A smile on Taehyung’s face and pink on Jungkook‘s cheeks.

That teasing remark hits at the side of Jungkook’s ego.

‘Are you going to stay in there forever or what? Are you going to rot in there?’

‘Stop fighting.. I will snap both of your heads off,’ Hoseok has his hands on his hips.

‘Don’t snap my head off, Hyungiee,’ the werewolf bursts out of the door.

‘Now.. What’s wron-’

‘Let’s go watch the sun setting together.. I’m tired,’ he clings onto both of their arms.

‘Does he get more possessive when he’s sad?’Jungkook rolls his eyes, ignoring the elder and communicating with Hoseok.

‘I’m still here,’ the forgotten boy reminds them of his glory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘I grew up in the Kingdom of Narcissus. Over there, we were expected to be perfect. To only care about ourselves and no one else. Not family, friends or anything.. I wasn’t like that though. But, when you’re the black sheep of the flock, that's what you always will be. Regardless of how nice you are or how good of a person you are, your wool is still the same. You’ll never fit in.’

‘And at one point, I became obsessed with being perfect. Now that I realise it. Perhaps my perfectionism was what killed her.’

‘How did she die?’ Hoseok’s blunt - he never enjoyed sugar coating his words.

‘She was killed by another pack..’

‘How is it your fault then?’

‘I insisted she go buy another bunch of berries. Because the ones I had weren't perfect enough,’ tears unconsciously dripped onto the ground.

‘How could you have known the future that was ahead of you? She didn't die because of you, Tae. They killed her. Was it her blood on your hands? No.. It was theirs.’

‘But.. But.. It’s my fault that I made her go to the market that day,’ he chokes on air.

‘It’s not your fault that evil exists in this world..’

‘Let’s say that you win the machine. Would she be happy knowing that you were blaming yourself for her death?’

‘No.. She would hit me in the chest and go: Tae, you silly thing!’ he smiles, a memory from years ago flashing back into his brain.

‘Do you think we’ll have to fight each other to death, for the machine?’ Taehyung keeps eye contact.

‘I won’t kill you, Tae.. Not even for her.’

‘Neither will I.. I refuse to kill you,’ Jungkook’s confident in what he says.

‘Let’s make a pact then. To give up if the final challenge is for us to slaughter each other,’ his tears have dried.

‘I, Jeon Jungkook will not have the blood of either Vampire Jung Hoseok or Werewolf Kim Taehyung.’

‘I, Kim Taehyung promise to never harm both this kiddo and this Hyung over here.’

‘I, Jung Hoseok will never lay a hand on both of these weirdos.’

‘Weirdos?!’ they scream in unison.

‘See.. Weirdos! So nosy!! My earsss!!’ Hoseok covers his ears.

‘You’re the weirdo over here, Hyung..’

‘Woah.. Woah! Now you two are ganging up on me?!!’

‘Come over and suck our blood then! That is if you can catch onto us!’ they both run away.

‘Get over here, you brats!!! I will drain you dry!!!! You probably won’t even taste good!! And for your information vampires don’t drink blood!!’

You have been invited to take a peek of one of Yoongi’s Iconic Looks

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mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years ago

Text

TCATC Chap. 21; Death is coming

*Author’s note*

Okay guys this is the last chapter for the DESOLATION OF SMAUG, the next set of chapters will be for the Battle of the Five Armies and then some events afterward. In total I’m thinking this story might be about 34, possibly 35 chapters before finally going into the events that happen in the LOTR. I’m also throwing in the air writing some inbetween stuff, individual oneshots that’ll take place between the two series but we’ll see. For now enjoy this last chapter of the DOS.

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@queensdivas

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@queen-paladin

@peter-parkers-cullen-nerd

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

______________________________________________________

Laketown grew silent as most of its inhabitants were either settling in for the night or already falling asleep, while others were just finishing up their shops and chores for the day. Bain had returned to the house, however their father was not with him.

“Bain where’s Da?” Sigrid asked.

“We were ambushed by the Master’s guards. He told me to hide the arrow and….they must’ve got him.”

“Is Da going to die at the Master’s hand?” Tilda asked fearfully. Sigrid knelt down to her sister’s height and reassured her.

“No. No we can’t think like that. Da is strong. Both he and aunt Hela are strong. If aunt Hela can continue to fight off whatever is wrong with her, Da will come back to us. They’ve known and trained together for a long time. He’ll find a way back to us.” She stroked Tilda’s hair and gave her a kiss to her little sister’s forehead.

“Laddie, we could use some extra help over here.” Oin called out to Bain. Bain turned towards them before turning to Sigrid. She nodded to him and he trotted over towards his aunt’s room.

“What is it you need?”

“We need more cool water to bring her fever down.” The elder dwarf told the young man.

“Curses where is Bofur with that blasted weed!?” Kili exclaimed angrily.

“He better hope he didn’t get himself lost.” Fili stated as he kept dabbing away at Hela’s forehead. Suddenly her eyes shot open and she let out a panicked gasp. Her eyes still that same haunting color, but now her fingers had fully gone black.

“Hela!” the young princes exclaimed.

“Sigrid……” Hela spoke in that same growl-like hollowed voice. She pushed herself off the bed and left her room.

“Aunt Hela!”

“Hela lass you need to keep resting!”

“Sigrid!” she exclaimed. Sigrid who was outside calling for her father, was oblivious to the danger that was walking above her from the neighboring houses. That’s when the dwarves also began to notice just above their heads, the roof was starting to creak.

Suddenly an orc appeared before Sigrid. She let out a terrified scream but before it could harm her, Hela stepped forward and gripped the orc’s throat with her right hand. It thrashed around as she began to raise it up like a ragdoll, thrashing and snarling.

As she slowly raised her left hand, it began to glow black with silver rims and she placed her hand over the orc’s face. That’s when it suddenly let out an agonizing scream before it went limp in her hand. She tossed it over into the lake like it was nothing before growling to Sigrid.

“Go!” Sigrid immediately followed her aunt’s instruction and closed the door. Soon more orcs came running up towards the door and that’s when she let loose her Celestial magic. Black and silver beams of Celestial magic shot at the orc’s however unlike before when she would use these powers they would toss them aside or knock them unconscious, this time her magic actually cut through them like swords.

Slicing them in half or relieving them of their limbs or heads. Whatever was happening to her, her powers were enhanced. However this feeling that was overcoming her was of pure bloodlust and a need to take a life, whether it was an orc or not.

And she loved it. Seeing the life drain from their eyes as her powers caused a quick and easy death.

That’s when the sound of Sigrid’s and Tilda’s screams pierced out of the house. Hela then obliterated the door with a single punch before seeing the chaos that ensued inside. Fili, Kili, Oin and Bain were holding off a few orcs while Sigrid and Tilda hid underneath the table. Hela went to send off a powerful wave of Celestial magic, powerful enough to kill everyone in the room. But she let out a scream as she collapsed and her breathing became heavy again.

“No! I won’t….let you hurt them!”

‘This is your power. No one can stop you, not even these insignificant orc pawns. You know you have the power to destroy them all with a single flick of your finger.’

“My friends…..my children. I won’t AHHHH!!!” she held her head in agony as she rolled onto her back. Which gave an orc the advantage to try and end Hela’s life. It pinned her down and raised its knife ready to strike but before it could attack, a knife struck it in the back. It dropped its dagger before the knife retracted and it collapsed to the floor dead.

Through whatever vision she had, Hela could see it was the red-haired she-elf Tauriel that had saved her life. She gave a quick nod to the Celestial before gracefully spinning around and attacking a couple more orcs.

From a hole in the ceiling, Legolas also joined in the fight. First using his bow to disarm it and sending it to the ground before taking out his daggers to finish it off.

Everyone was working together to fend off the orcs, Tauriel gracefully using her daggers as a momentum to fling herself at any orc that came close before finishing them off with a stab they didn’t even see coming, or allowing them to just walk into her blade. While Legolas forced the orc’s to use all their strength in attacking him, tiring them out before finally finishing them off.

Fili and Kili bravely defended Bard’s daughters because they knew they were important to Hela, and they knew she would never forgive them if anything happened to those girls. They fought using whatever they could from the bench to even pots and their own brute strength. Oin and Bain worked together in fighting off the orcs, Bain would knock down whatever orc was coming from behind Oin that he couldn’t hear, while Oin fought off any orc with his bare hands.

As Tauriel held on orc against her dagger, Hela suddenly appeared and stabbed the orc just above the ribs before collapsing in agony. Tauriel quickly knelt down and observed what was wrong and her eyes widened.

“A dark spirit calls to her.” She whispered in Elvish. Remembering their conversation days ago when she was taken as prisoner before the company of Thorin Oakenshield came into their possession.

The last orc that managed to escape, quickly bolted outside, hopped over the porch and landed on a boat and alerted Bolg.

“Oakenshield has gone!”

“Fall back! Regroup at the bridge!” soon the rest of the orcs that were spread out over the town followed Bolg’s command. The next thing the orc on the boat knew, a body came down sending him upwards only to meet with daggers at his neck, while his body fell back onto the boat. Those daggers belonged to none other than Legolas Greenleaf. He uncrossed his daggers allowing the head to drop into the lake like a rock and he watched as more orcs ran away from the town.

Inside Bard’s house the place was in ruin but everyone was still in one piece. Bain looked around the house in awe.

“You killed them all.”

“There are others. Tauriel, come!” Legolas told the boy. Tauriel looked up at her prince with worry before turning back to Hela. Hela now just laid there motionless as Oin, Fili and Kili hovered over her.

“We’re losing her!” Oin desperately said. Tauriel was at a stand-still.

“Tauriel.” Legolas softly commanded her. Tauriel walked over to Legolas and said to him in Elvish.

“I know we don’t want to help the dwarves but what of the Celestial? You sense it as well as I.”

“There is nothing we can do for her now Tauriel. She’s too far gone. Even with our help.” Legolas told her.

“If you elves are finished talking in your secret language, you might want to at least look at Hela now.” Fili exclaimed. When Legolas and Tauriel turned around their eyes widened in fear.

“I found it! I finally found the Athe—Durin’s beard……” Bofur said as he came barging in the house but stopped and his face turned to pure horror.

Hela was levitating just a few feet off the ground. Her hair was standing on end, every strand of hair gently waving like a banner across the sky. Her eyes were now as pitch black as the night itself. A fire surrounded her as her hands glowed her own Celestial light of black and silver.

She only stood there for a moment of silence. Bard’s children cowering in fear at the dark presence that now held their aunt prisoner. Fili, Kili and Oin standing in front of the children trying to protect them even though they had no way or even an idea of what they could do. Finally she spoke in the demonic voice once more, however this time there was no trace of her own voice.

“It has begun.” She spoke in Black Speech. The tone of which she spoke in was unlike how the Orcs spoke, this radiated a pure, unholy evil. “The East will fall. So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise. The time of the Elves is over.” As she spoke, the corpses of the orcs slowly began to rise from the ground.

Bofur quickly joined up with his friends and helped shielded the children from this horrifying sight. Their mouths gaped in horror and shock for never have they witnessed such an unholy act as the dead being raised.

“The Age of Orc has come.” The voice using Hela’s body finished with a malicious smile. Lifting her arms up and with a flick of her left wrist, like puppets being pulled on a string, the orcs reanimated to life. Snarling and snapping their jaws. Suddenly something glowed across both Fili’s and Kili’s forearms.

Beyond their own control they felt and saw as their arms raised up and crossed over each other’s and each Celestial gem glowed as bright as a star. The orcs dropped back dead to the floor while Hela’s arms were forced behind her back. The dark deity possessing her arched Hela’s back as it let out a piercing roar.

‘Accept their power less you wish to be burned by their magic.’ A male’s voice spoke in both Fili’s and Kili’s heads. They looked down at the gems to see all of them glowing brighter and brighter as they felt their skin already starting to burn. They turned to each other and nodded. ‘Grant their spirits to use your voices. And leave the rest to them.’ The voice said again.

“YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER MY DAUGHTER OF DEATH! SERVANT OF MORGOTH!” Fili spoke up first. His voice melded with a warm, older woman’s voice. The dark deity snarled and tried to free itself by using Hela’s magic but they were barely able to come forth due to her not tapping into her true strength. All the darkness controlling Hela could do was writhe and snarl.

“Y OU. ARE. NAMELESS!” Kili spoke up having a group of male voices echo his own. “FACELESS!”

“FORMLESS!” Fili’s voice spoke again, this time two different women’s voice spoke up along with one of them sounding almost like a child. A groan came out of Hela’s mouth as her head limped backwards. Bofur and Oin moved the children towards the knocked over table and they all hid from whatever magic could potentially shoot out from Hela’s body.

While Legolas and Tauriel stood there in both fear and awe. Seeing these dwarves being able to withstand the raw power of a Celestial and standing up to the dark spirit of Sauron at the same time, in a way it earned them their respect.

“NOW GO BACK TO THE VOID. FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!!!” all the voices spoke from the mouths of the Dwarf princes. The dark deity let out one last roar before a dark shadow shot right out from Hela’s back.

A flash of light came into the house. A light so bright that it was like seeing a bolt of lightning hit the ground. The gauntlets dropped from both Fili’s and Kili’s forearms and they let out a gasp at the sudden departure of the power that they had been exposed to. Hela then dropped to the ground with a soft groan and lay there unconscious.

The black veins finally disappearing, her charcoal black fingers returned to their normal skin color. Even her breathing was once again soft yet normal. All that came off her body for a brief moment was the black celestial magic surrounding her, crackling like embers over a fireplace.

Bofur, Oin, and Bard’s children slowly peeked out from over the table and saw Hela lying on the ground, while Fili and Kili were on their hands and knees trying to regain their breath. Tilda was the first to run over to her aunt. Sigrid fearing that whatever held their aunt could still be there, she pleaded for Tilda to come back. Tauriel stopped the young girl from getting any closer until Legolas checked on her.

He checked her pulse and could feel the steadiness of her heart beat and could see that at last the darkness had been expelled from her mind. He turned to Tauriel and nodded softly.

“She will live. She just needs rest.” Tauriel assured them.

“Go after the orcs Tauriel, I will settle things from here. Hurry.” Legolas ordered her in Elvish. She nodded before racing out of the house as fast as she could. Bofur and Oin ran up to the young princes and helped them on their feet.

“Are you lads alright?” Oin asked.

“Yeah. Yeah we’re—we’re fine.” Fili replied rubbing his head.

“Except for the slight burning on my arm but other than that, yeah I’m fine.” Kili responded.

“What was all of that? I know I took a bump to the head but I swear on Durin’s name, I thought I saw some sort of shadow come out of Hela’s body.” Bofur said. Legolas didn’t speak a word to them as he picked Hela up and held her in his arms. Bain escorted him to her room so that she would have a more comfortable place to recover and rest in.

As Legolas set her down and even stroked the white strands of her hair out from her face, he saw Hela’s eyes slowly began to open and her head very slightly turned towards him.

“Legolas?” she softly whispered. Legolas placed a comforting hand to her shoulder as he told her softly.

“Rest now, Last of the Celestials.” Just before he could take his hand back, he felt her softly grip his hand in his. Through her faint and tired eyes he could see that she was observing him curiously like this was the first time seeing him (even when they both knew it wasn’t).

“My little Greenleaf of the Wood?” she asked faintly. At hearing that nickname, his blue eyes slightly widened. Not in offense or fear, but in shock. No it couldn’t be. “My love that I loved more than anyone….more than life.” Hela continued to whisper. “Your eyes have grown cold and hard as ice in my parting……and your father’s even colder.”

Hela slowly raised her other hand and gently placed it over Legolas’ heart. A single tear fell down her cheek as she whispered again.

“Can you ever forgive me?” immediately after saying that Hela exhaled softly and fell fast asleep. And for the first time in a long time, Legolas’ hardcore exterior broke as he looked down at Hela. His eyes morphed from the harshness of a man, to the timid sadness that a small child would show, his lips slightly parted in shock.

For Hela had allowed his own Mother to speak to him.

A secret tear fell down his face as he gripped Hela’s hand. He didn’t know if she was still inside Hela but he told her in Elvish.

“Ú-moe edhored, Naneth.” He kissed Hela’s forehead and forced himself to leave the spirit of his Mother.

He walked out of the room and when Bard’s children and the dwarves saw the Elvish prince leave Hela’s room Bain asked him.

“Is she alright now?” Legolas paused at the door and spoke not a word for a moment.

“She is a sacred deity. The Last of her kind. Ensure that her mind does not return to the darkness.” He spoke before finally leaving the home.

“I never understood why Elves must always speak in riddle-like statements.” Kili muttered to Fili who nodded in agreement.

“I’ll check on the lass.” Oin said as he walked towards Hela’s room and gave her a once over. He first felt her forehead and could already feel that her temperature was not as hot anymore. Her chest gently rising and falling in a steady pace, no staggered or choked breathing. He then gripped her wrist to check her pulse to find it was now steady.

“How is she?” Bofur asked as he came into the room.

“So far everything seems normal.”

“I’ll take the first watch over her.” Bofur offered.

“Aye. Let me know if anything changes.” Bofur nodded and Oin walked on out as Bofur pulled out the chair and sat by Hela’s bedside. He looked down at her still hand and reached out to take it.

“You really had us frightened there lass, the lads and those children especially. They look up to you yah know. Fili and Kili. You three really have become like siblings, they are willing to do anything for you. And I know you’re willing to do anything for them. So—if you can……come back to us. We’re lost without you our bonnie Hela. And…..it would break all our hearts if you didn’t return to us from—wherever your head took you. Whatever dark presence filled your head.”

As Bofur continued to keep watch over Hela, he looked up as he began to hear the sound of a hurricane coming from the mountain. Having heard the tale many times before throughout his entire life, hearing it now was nothing compared to how the tales and songs described this sound. Suddenly Hela let out a gasp as she shot up from the bed panting as if she had awaken from a bad dream.

“Hela! Oh thank Durin you’re awake!”

“Bofur…….” She said fearfully. “He is coming. Smaug is coming!”

25 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 4 years ago

Text

fix you.

ೃ pairing: (village prince! katsuki bakugo x princess mononoke! reader)

ೃ tags: princess mononoke au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings: mild use of weapons and strong language

ೃ part 1/2 of the princess mononoke! au

ೃ word count 4.119 words

ೃ 2/??? of @bukojuiice’s studio ghibli au

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ Loosely based off of Princess Mononoke! Not necessarily a word for word retelling/alternate universe. You can read on without any prior knowledge of this beautiful Studio Ghibli film. Hope you enjoy!

ೃ if you want to be part of this studio ghibli au taglist, send me an ask! or if you want to be a part of my mha taglist in general, send me an ask indicating whichever you want to be a part of!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ shoto todoroki’s fic (howl’s moving castle au) for those of you who want to read the first in this series!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess

ೃ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.

“Damn this life.” Katsuki curses under his breath, rolling up his sleeves, and collecting clear water from the riverbend and transferring it into his jar.

“Hey! This isn’t that bad!” Eijiro Kirishima, son of the second in command to Katsuki’s mother, his most trusted ally and #2 most annoying fucker on this planet, cheekily grins, patting the blonde on the back. “We’ve gone through worse things in the past. And yet here we are! We’re still alive! Aren’t we?”

“Yea! We’ll find the forest gods soon! Offer food for them and hopefully they give us a cure! This is going to be easy!” Denki Kaminari, another one of his most trusted allies, grandson of one of the wise elders, and #1 most annoying fucker on this planet, reassures his friend whilst aimlessly fixing the saddle on his elk.

Why did life have to be like this?

Who did Katsuki Bakugo infuriate from high above to have this tremendous bad luck and fate be put upon him? All he wanted was to live a noble life as a village prince, have his mother pass down her position of power onto him, become the new village chief, live a life of prosperity, help his people, and then pass away with no regrets. But life just had to do this to him no?

After an unexpected attack of a raging cursed boar consumed by black slithering enigmas in the hills of Mustafu village, the handsome village prince was the only one able of combat who was around the vicinity at the time. He had no choice but to hurl himself in front of the boar, shooting one of his famed arrows, sharper than most and one of the best in his arsenal. The boar had met its demise by his hands. However, not without getting revenge at Katsuki, by passing its curse onto him. The black ooze slithering onto his arm before the animal had fully perished.

That was the worst day of his life.

As the son of the village chief and as one of the most well-known individuals in his tribe, how was he supposed to react?

Katsuki had always been number one. Never once slipping to loss or to failure. Never getting injured. Never letting his guard down. Never disappointing his parents. Never losing his pride nor his mighty personality.

He was the paragon of success.

But, sometimes, the best people feel lost and useless too.

The fact that his mother had easily let go of him, have the wise villager elders speak ill of him and banish him, having to leave everything he had loved and worked hard for, lose his position as a prince, and have the people of his village look at him in abhorrence and disgust, had ended up becoming the most painful experiences he ever had to go through in his entire life.

Leaving quietly at the dead of the night with no proper goodbyes but a brief hug, gift of a good luck charm from his mother, and the willing accompaniment of his two most trusted friends (although he would not like to admit the appreciation he has for them, he was very grateful) on this fruitless journey… He could never have it any other way.

What kind of life was he even going to lead from here on forth?

He didn’t want to stop believing. He didn’t want to lose hope. This wasn’t like him. Katsuki Bakugo knew who he was. He knows how headstrong he is, how prideful, persevering, and how much of a smart-ass he is. He had no time to sulk and contemplate about his demise and what fate had in store for him.

Although, it would be nice if he could release all these pent-up emotions and frustrations at least once. Just once.

He just has no idea how to and who to open up to.

Putting his vulnerable emotions aside, he is going to defy his destiny and take down whatever may come his way.

Making sure no one was going to stop him from doing so.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki jerks his head, gesturing his party members to start walking to the other side of the forest.

“Wait… haven’t we gone there already?” Kaminari protests, not raising his voice nor overreacting because even he knew that Katsuki was on a bad mood as per usual. (With this being the second afternoon of their journey and because they have to leave their animal companions by the river due to how unstable the geographical and terrestrial properties of the forest were.)

Katsuki shoots him a glare, the other blonde clearing the lump in his throat in response. “Okay okay! Let’s go then!”

They quietly navigate through the forest, hearing nothing but the sound of their own feet stepping on the grass, crickets chirping, fireflies flying about, the towering trees swaying with the wind, and the calming yet lonely atmosphere of the woodlands to accompany them.

“Kirishima.” Bakugo calls out coldly. “Are you sure that this is the same forest depicted in the legends?”

“Positive.” Kirishima replies, nodding aimlessly whilst turning his head and taking in their surroundings. “If we spot some Kodama, that means we’re near the tree that stands alone.”

“Tree that stands alone?” Denki asks, tilting his head and sparking a discussion. “Also, what even is a Kodama?”

“You’re the grandson of a village elder yet you’re asking me?” Eijiro narrows his eyes at his other blonde friend. “Kodama are the little white spirits who live in trees. They don’t necessarily guide travelers but instead watch them. They only intervene if ever anything bad happens. If we see them appear then that means we’re close to the spiritual core of the forest. The tree that gives life.”

Yakushima Forest. Located in the southern region, is the settlement of the forest gods and the place where the oldest trees of Japan and those known to man stand strongly. The power and the spiritual energy stored in this wonderous and enchanting forest could only be seen and could only be discovered by heroes and travelers with a pure of heart as the forest was welcoming only to visitors with pure and selfless intentions. However, to those who wish to exploit it and to ruin its beauty will be punished heavily by the gods in the most gruesome ways possible.

Katsuki breathes out a hefty sigh, leading his two other friends who were happily following him from behind. There was this bizarre feeling of anxiety welling up inside him. He was not himself and he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was pretend to remain calm and collected…

He will find that cure.

He will be able to save himself and he will be able to come back to his village, victorious and free of the curse.

Bakugo stops in his tracks when they encounter another streaming river. His two companions almost bump into him with how abrupt he halted in his steps.

There was something amiss in the river.

It wasn’t a bad spirit nor was it some bad energy, but Katsuki could feel something.

There was someone else there.

And he felt that they weren’t exactly the friendly type who would help them.

“Bakugo-sama, why did we stop-“ Kaminari is hushed by his blonde friend before he could even have the chance to utter another word. Kirishima quickly picked up what Katsuki is trying to motion to them and proceeds to quietly scout around the area. “There’s a girl? Wolves too.” He whispers from behind a bush not far from where his friends were standing.

“Let’s go back to the nearby village. Stay at the inn there.” Bakugo whispers sternly, as if not wanting to hear any other remarks from his friends.

“Wait! Bakugo, I know we’re near the tree. Why stop now!?” Kirishima fussed. He knew something was up. “We’re pretty close. We can just set up a fire here then-“

“I said let’s head back. Damn it.” Katsuki repeated his words. This time, in a sort of a growl. “If you don’t want to go back, feel free to die here if you want.” He starts treading back to the path where they came from. Denki looks at his red-headed friend worriedly, even he, of all people, had finally noticed that there was something wrong with their most beloved village prince. Kirishima nods at him cautiously, the two of them walking together behind Bakugo.

They quickly got back to the small village near the forest with no interruption, as the chit-chatter and the energy radiating between both Kirishima and Kaminari were low as Katsuki was in a even terrible mood, refusing to talk to any of them nor humoring their antics and small jokes.

They continue to spend the rest of their day in silence. With, Katsuki, immediately heading back to his quarters to rest whilst his two other companions remained outside to help some village folk and prepare dinner.

The village chieftain of the quaint settlement had a good relationship with Katsuki’s mother. They were good trade partners and the village chief wanted to do everything in their power to help Katsuki be free of the curse by the means of giving him a private inn to stay in and come back to whenever he and his friends would like to. It wasn’t much, but Katsuki needed all the help he could get on this otherwise hopeless quest. Even if he refused the said offers at first.

After another awfully quiet bonding time with Bakugo at dinner, the convivial duo had to break the silence. Denki had thought of the most wonderful idea of bringing up the topic of the girl who was accompanied by wolves in the forest. Because, hey, it’s a girl in the forest! What could possibly be weird about that?

“Hey! So about that girl that we saw…” Kaminari suddenly speaks up, nudging Kirishima in the arm, signaling him to answer his query. Bakugo barely looks up at the sound of his friend’s yapping, continuing to play with the food on his bowl. “Who do you think was she?”

“She’s most probably the wolf princess.” Eijiro shrugs casually, biting on a roasted corncob. “Yakushima forest is protected by the three animal gods whom we know by now as the forest gods. The Wolf goddess, The Gorilla king, and The Deer god. The Deer god being the most powerful of them all. There have been rumors and reports going around that the goddess had taken in an abandoned human girl, and was treated as one of their kin years ago. The girl holds pure resentment for her own kind and chooses to live in the Yakushima forest, taking down every single human who has negative intentions and evil plans for the land she lives in.”

“Well, if she’s that badass, then you shouldn’t call her a princess. She’s a queen!” Kaminari remarks, biting on his newly roasted corncob, listening eagerly to Kirishima’s tale. Bakugo looks up at Denki and the goofy blonde could have sworn he saw a small smile form on Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima laughs at his friend’s little quip, “You’re right. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“You weirdos should get to sleep. We go back to the forest first thing in the morning.” Katsuki stands up from his seat, his hands in his pockets, grumpily trotting away to the inn.

“Oh.” Denki blinks. “That was faster than I thought. I didn’t expect him to be convinced so easily. Did you pull that story from your ass Kirishima-kun?”

The red-haired teen shook his head. “Nope. All of that was real.”

“For real? You’re not joking?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodnight then!” The other blonde leaves his seat, patting Eijiro in the arm before leaving and going back to his quarters.

Kirishima looks up at the glistening night sky, a few stars present in the sky to greet him a wonderful night, the boy hoping he would find an answer amongst the stars. “May the gods help us in our adventure.” He breathes a hefty sigh, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes of praying for guidance, he puts out the fire and retreats back to his room.

The night passes by quickly, another day of their adventure waiting to unfold.

“Don’t you dare come back here you disgusting prince.”

“No one wants him here! Got it? Let him go on this adventure and never come back!”

“He’s just a burden. To be cursed by an animal as simple as a boar? Pathetic.”

“Useless vermin.”

“Banished forever? How sad.”

“A prince falling from grace? Predictable.”

The voices of the village people echo in his head.

These were words from them that he was not meant to hear. Ones that he accidentally heard before leaving that same night. These were the words that will haunt him forever.

He, Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would let all these horrid, vile, and false words get to him?

These were the same words with the same meaning that he’s heard hundreds and hundreds of times from different people, yet it never got to him. He chose to ignore them.

But, why now? What was going on? Why was he feeling this way?

Katsuki awakens at the dead of the night. Beads of sweat falling from his temples, his breath hitched and his body aching. He was not himself right now and this intense feeling of uneasiness and torment confirmed it. Although, he wanted to keep this to himself. He didn’t want anybody else to know what he was feeling. He could overcome this on his own. He could do this all on his own.

“I’ll show them.” He continues to breathe at a fast pace, still a bit shocked by the nightmare he had just seen. “I’ll fucking show them that I am the prince of the Mustafu tribe.” He props himself up from his sleeping mat, reaching for his neatly folded clothes beside him. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

Katsuki begins to get dressed, feeling nothing but anger and determination running through his veins. He puts on his grey vest and wraps his red cape onto his back. He continues to put on his ensemble when a sudden rush of pain begins to throb in his arm. Bakugo’s immediate reaction is to curl up, holding his stomach to try and ease the pain.

The curse was acting up again, reacting to the anger and negative emotions that Katsuki was feeling right now. The blonde winces in pain, kneeling down on the floor to take a hold of his arm that was manifesting a glowing blue and black aura. His muscle continues to throb and he could do nothing but hold it down and take in all the pain until it eventually goes away.

After several minutes of resisting and trying to ease the pain by thinking of more positive and enlightening thoughts, the throbbing suddenly stops. Bakugo goes back to breathing at a normal pace. He rests for a few minutes, making sure that his body was functioning properly once more before he quickly heads out of his private room to head to back to Yakushima forest, searching for answers. He didn’t have time to wait for Kirishima and Kaminari anymore. He was growing impatient, and hearing the haunting words of his village people circling in his head fueled his will power to get this whole ordeal done and head back home.

It was finally the end of another day protecting the forest.

You were about on your daily patrol with the wolf goddess and your wolf siblings, when you encounter three young men who looked like they were lost in the woods. You immediately assumed that they were looking for the tree of life. But they weren’t like the others. They weren’t finding it for selfish reasons. They were looking for it in hopes to find a cure for a curse. That’s what their auras were trying to show at least.

One of those men particularly piqued your interest.

He was… handsome? Was that the word that humans used?

He had ash blonde hair that spiked upwards at all angles, passionate red orbs that gave him such a striking appearance, as if he could hold up the world in his hands. Calloused hands that had taken a part in many battles, a muscular build like that of a noble warrior, a shining sword just as big as him and an arrow that he looked like he was adept at using.

Yet despite your observations, there was this mysterious air around him that you just couldn’t understand.

“(Y/N)? Dear? Is anything wrong?” The elegant white wolf goddess, Moro, calls out to her human daughter, with a worried look.

“I saw 3 dorks by the riverbend on our patrol a while ago.” You say rather jokingly, trying to remember their faces. “I should have struck them down when I had the chance.” You shake your head, reaching for the knife in your skirt and grasping it.

“How so?” The goddess twitches her ear, as if raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you feel any bad spirits within them? Any emotional aura? I told you to do that before attempting to attack anyone remember?”

“There was this particular man among them who had strong energy. He was radiating a gloomy yet aggressive energy. Like that of a person hiding their true emotions to remain strong and brave to the outside world. I kind of felt sorry for him.” Your voice trails off as you nestle your body next to the wolf goddess, along with your siblings who were cuddled up next to you too.

“Why don’t you go check up on him then?” Moro replies casually, as if teasing you. You raise your head up, feeling a tint shade of pink appear on your cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A shrieking noise began to ring in your ears, signaling that a human has entered the forest. You quickly rise up from the bed of leaves you were sleeping in. Running out of the cave, you gallop down a slope and sprint your way to the foot of the forest. The spirits guiding you to where you needed to go.

You feel the hostile energy yet again.

Could it be the young man from earlier?

When he enters your field of vision, you climb up the nearest tree to get a clearer look at him from above and from afar.

He still had the same expression plastered upon his face since this afternoon. An irritated and scornful look, yet there was kindness in his eyes that you couldn’t describe.

It wasn’t the kindness that you would see from the eyes of a regular person but it was a kindness that was combined with a desire to protect the people around him. It was different and oddly comforting.

You continue to observe his every move, waiting for him to mess up or try to hurt the magical properties of the forest before you confront him to ask why the hell was he even roaming around in the forest, in the middle of night like a fluffy dog.

Katsuki noticed you standing on the tree-tops.

You weren’t exactly the greatest hide and seek player.

However, he chose to shrug you off and ignore you as he continues to look for traces of spiritual energy that could lead him to the tree of life.

Based on the stories that Kirishima had told, he was actually a bit surprised by your appearance. He couldn’t make out your face with the mask that you were wearing but he noticed your mildly disheveled hair, the ragged clothes you had on, a cape made of white fur and a necklace adorned with three fangs hanging on your neck. From that alone, he knew you were a princess. Not your conventional princess per se with all the jewelry, intricate headpieces and beautiful dresses but, the presence that you have has sort of a dignified feel to it. You might not look like the part but you embodied everything that a princess should be. Headstrong, intelligent, confident in her beliefs, and never afraid to stand her ground.

That’s what Katsuki thinks at least.

With all the stories that Kirishima had recited about the Yakushima forest, you were one of the most interesting bits.

Katsuki Bakugo was enthralled by you in more ways than one.

You were a mysterious enigma that he had to unravel.

You were getting a bit tired of watching him aimlessly roam around the forest. He was absolutely going nowhere which is funny because he didn’t strike you as a person who had no sense of direction. In an alternate universe, he’d probably be kidnapped by some villain or bad guy if he continued to be reckless like this, just walking around without a care in the world.

You spoke too soon.

You barely dodge a sharp arrow that pierces through a tree. It wasn’t from the young man you were watching but from someone else. Thieves. two of them.

You forgot that you weren’t able to sense other humans entering the forest if you focus on a particular one. It completely slipped your mind that there would still be sick individuals who would try and attempt to find the riches of the forest despite the many incidents happening time and time again warning humans to not enter the Yakushima Forest if they want to explore it for their own selfish desires.

You hastily jump down onto the ground, releasing a flurry of punches and kicks at the thieves, knocking 2 of them unconscious. You thought that the fight was over until you hear agonizing screams from the other side of the forest.

You quickly sprint your way there, hoping nothing serious had happened and no one was hurt in the process.

You arrived in a secluded area, tall trees covering the sun or the moon for the light to seep into, resulting in a dark and gloomy atmosphere.

You stop in your tracks when you notice six thieves unconscious on the ground too. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice that the boy was panting heavily, injuries and deep wounds were present all around his body. He was terribly injured. He stares at you for a few seconds before collapsing onto the ground.

You grit your teeth, approaching him with a scornful look. “You’ve wasted your life by getting in my way!” You sheathe his blade from it’s scabbard, pointing it directly to his chest. Katsuki’s chest rises up and down, a sign showing that he was breathing normally but was at the brink of unconsciousness.

“I’ll cut your throat! That will shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful…”

He mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, making intense eye contact with yours.

You suddenly feel your heart race, thumping loudly. You pull the sword away and jump away from him. You were taken aback by his words because of how he caught you off guard just like that. Who gave him the right to do this to you? Who was he in the first place?

Why did he make you feel all these soft and mushy feelings right now?

Who gave him the right to do this to you?

A human being?

A feeling sparking in your chest...

Is this what humans call love?

- To be continued.

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kung-laos-hat · 4 years ago

Text

Fool

Kung Lao x Fem!Reader

Warning: Contains major spoilers from Mortal Kombat 9, including quotes from the actual script. :) kinda follows the canon but also doesn’t considering this is an x reader ‼️Not Proof read yet‼️

AN: words of affirmation and acts of service love language goes brrrrr

Summary: Kung Lao is devastated that his best friend and the girl he loves get to complete in the tournament without him, so he does what any sane person does: sneaks his way onto the island and challenges Scorpion in an attempt to impress the reader :D

“We’ll be back before you know it, Lao.” (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder.

He chuckled nervously and nodded, trying his best to seem at ease but the uncertainty in his eyes gave it all away. It didn’t matter how long they trained or how prepared the elder monks thought (Y/n) and Liu Kang were. (Y/n)’s attempts at comforting the young man were fruitless.

It wasn’t just that he was worried for his childhood friends’ safety. There was no denying that was definitely one of the reasons he was reluctant to see them off, but aside from that he was envious. And how could he not be? The two of them were chosen by the elder monks to represent their section in the tournament where some the greatest fighters would be present.

Sure, he always knew the elder monks would choose (Y/n). She was the perfect fighter in his eyes. (Y/n) was clever, cunning, and quick on her feet. It just made sense that she’d be the first choice.

However, that left that second slot open for debate, and the primary candidates were Liu and Lao. Now Kung Lao promised himself that no matter what the elder monks decided, he wouldn’t let that drive a wedge in his relationship with his cousin, and he’d been fairly true to his word so far. He was proud of Liu, really.

But time went on and Raiden suggested that it’d be best for Liu and (Y/n) to train together in private, allowing them to grow accustomed to each other’s moves, strengths, and weaknesses. This would come in handy if the two of them should ever find themselves in a position in which they had to fight opponents together. Of course, Liu and (Y/n) already had established a close friendship, but there was nothing wrong with a little refining.

Lao had no problem with this, that is, until the tournament grew closer, and he began to see less and less of the duo. (Y/n) in particular almost seemed to be avoiding him, but Kung Lao knew her better than to assume that was the case. Yes, Liu Kang and (Y/n) were close, but not as close as Kung Lao and (Y/n). The three of them were the best of friends since childhood, but Lao always felt like there was something special between him and (Y/n) that just wasn’t present in her relationship with Liu.

(Y/n) had her fair share of sneaking out, having midnight conversations, and causing mischief amongst the other pupils, with Liu, sure, but it was Kung Lao she always turned to when in need of comfort. Somehow (Y/n) preferred to talk about her problems with Lao, and boy did he love it when she did. It was like seeing a completely gentler, more authentic side of her.

Because of this, Lao simply noticed things about (Y/n) no one else did. He knew what made her happy, and when one night she expressed how anxious training made her, he began to go out of his way to do some of her daily chores along with his own or do little things such as make her a snack. Of course, his pride would never allow his to flat out tell her he’d be doing all of this just because.

No, it was always,

“I just happened to make too much to eat by myself.”

“Don’t look too deep into it. If I didn’t do your laundry for you, you’d probably let it lay around your room. Then you’d have nothing clean to wear and you’d start stealing my clothes.”

Soon enough, Lao’s thoughts were flooded with nothing but (Y/n), and everyday he was forced to remember that she and Liu Kang were spending more and more time together, and eventually would be sent off to potentially die. This not only rubbed salt in the wound of not being chosen, but created a new fear for the poor young man.

God, what if (Y/n)’s opponent didn’t spare her? Would Liu Kang or Raiden interject? Kung Lao knew he would. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Hell, he’d throw away his pride and get on his hands and knees to beg if it meant saving (Y/n).

Was that why Liu Kang was chosen and not him? Because he was a better match for (Y/n)? Did the elder monks think he was more capable than him than much? Or was it (Y/n) who chose Liu Kang to fight beside her?

Now here he stood before her, soaking in her presence potentially for the last time. (Y/n)’s hand lingered on his shoulder a little longer, then she signed and took both of his hands in her own.

“What is it?” She asked, looking up expectantly.

Lao blinked, “What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face. Y’know the one that screams ‘I’ve got something to say, but I’m a wuss so instead I’m going to dwell in my room immediately after you leave,’” (Y/n) teased.

Lao half smiled and pulled his arms away. “It’s nothing, I’m just worried for you two.”

(Y/n)’s face softened and she offered him a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Liu Kang’s bad temper, maybe, but I’m sure I’ll be okay out there.” She opened her arms and embraced Lao, which he quickly accepted.

“After all,” (Y/n) said pulling away slightly and flicking the tip of Kung Lao’s hat, “I trained with the best.”

“We’ve got to get going!” Liu called out from a few feet away at the enterance of the temple.

With that, she placed a small kiss on Lao’s cheek and ran off to join him and Raiden.

“You better return in one piece!” Kung Lao called out jokingly.

“If I don’t, you better build me a cooler body!” (Y/n) laughed, waving her hand over her head.

With a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

___

So far the introduction to the tournament was running smoothly. (Y/n) had managed to hold pleasant conversations with a few other competitors, including one by the name Johnny Cage. (much to Liu Kang’s distain. Apparently Johnny had accidentally disrespected Raiden and was under the impression that everyone there was just really into roleplay. But aside from being a little arrogant, (Y/n) didn’t mind him.)

(Y/n) had been selected to do a quick demonstration fight against none other than Princess Kitana, who put up a good fight but in the end didn’t stand a chance against her. While the princess laid half on the ground, (Y/n) was given the option to either finish her off or spare her. Despite (Y/n) choosing mercy, Kitana didn’t take this defeat well, but did her best to maintain her composure as the two retreated inside to tend to their wounds.

“...Why did you—,” Kitana began in a low whisper. (Y/n) turned to her and helped her hand, palm out, in front of her chest.

“You’re an excellent fighter. One with true talent, princess, believe me.” (Y/n) chuckled, “To take a life such as yours would be a waste. Don’t let one little defeat become a deterrence.”

The ghost of a smile graced Kitana’s lips. “You know, you’re a fool to be so kind to your enemies. The next time we meet might not be under such pleasant circumstances.”

(Y/n) huffed, “A fool, yes, but at the very least I’ll be remembered for it.”

———

The fighting continued on without the two girls for a while until Shang Tsung granted an intercession. (Y/n) made her way to Liu Kang’s side and nodded at him. He glanced down at her neatly bandaged hands and huffed in amusement, knowing damn well that when they returned home, his companion planned on showing off her “battle scars” to Kung Lao in an attempt to impress him. As they waited for the next match to begin, Liu Kang filled her in on what she’d missed during the Johnny Cage versus Reptile fight.

“I wish you could of been here to see it, (Y/n). I got second hand embarrassment from how arrogant he sounded.” Liu rolled his eyes.

(Y/n) stifled a giggle and covered her smile with her hand, but as she did this, she noticed one particular bodyguard’s eyes watching her intently from behind his helmet.

He was a bit of a distance away, but somehow it felt like his stare was burning through (Y/n)’s skull, and the very thought of that sent a chill down her spine. She awkwardly cleared her throat and turned to face the other direction, her fingers slightly latching onto Liu Kang’s arm defensively.

The rest of the day was nothing short of eventful. Raiden had requested that she accompanied him into the underground sections of the island, where she became acquainted with Sonya Blade and Jax, and even got to witness Sonya fight a man named Kano. Johnny Cage and Liu Kang eventually joined them, and there they established a sort of team while Raiden explained the severity of losing the tournament.

Afterwards Sonya and (Y/n) parted ways with the men and accompanied each other to their designated bedrooms, which, luckily, were located across from each other. As they walked, the two women got to know each other a little better. Sonya told (Y/n) more about how she came to meet Jax, her life in the army, and how she eventually ended up on the island. In turn, (Y/n) told her about her life with the White Lotus Society and Raiden. They went back and forth, trading silly childhood and training tales until they came across a certain mural in one of the main hallways.

(Y/n) paused in front of it and smiled fondly at the depiction of a man standing victoriously over his enemy on a great cliff or something of the sort.

She turned to Sonya and smiled excitedly. “The Great Kung Lao,” she explained, “He’s a legend back home. Truly one of the greatest fighters the White Lotus ever produced.”

She proceeded to retell the story of Kung Lao’s victories back in the day, and Sonya listened intently.

“So that’s your motive then, huh?” Sonya chuckled.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well I’ve got my mission to save Jax, Cage wants his fame... what about you? What’s your motive? Aside from the monks selecting you, that is.”

(Y/n) glanced back up at the mural, then back to Sonya. “A descendent of his— the great Kung Lao, I mean.” Suddenly (Y/n) felt incredibly shy and began to fiddle with her hands.

“Liu Kang?” Sonya tilted her head.

“No!” (Y/n) exclaimed, laughing slightly, “A friend of ours, actually.” As she spoke, her tone was laced with a certain fondness.

Sonya smiled, “A friend?”

“Yes, Miss Blade. A friend. Anyways, he helped me create all of my best moves. I hate to admit it, but I basically modeled my fighting style after what he taught me when we were kids.” (Y/n) faintly blushed and smiled to herself.

“So... that’s it then? You want to impress him?”

“I mean— I just—,” (Y/n) struggled to find words, “I mean of course that’s not all of it. Of course I’m here to protect the Earthrealm first, but...”

She glanced up at the mural once more.

“I don’t know, I want him to see how much I’ve improved recently.”

Truth be told, (Y/n) had always admired Kung Lao growing up, but it wasn’t until around their late teens or early twenties that she’d began to admire him a little more than usual. And because of that she’d begun to lose her focus around him. Sure, he had always been terribly strong, smart, and witty beyond compare, but as they grew (Y/n) began to notice how charming he was or how nice he looked without his gear on.

Or even how differently he treated her compared to everyone else.

———

The next day the fighters returned to the island’s arena. Shang Tsung and the monks took to their spots while Quan Chi stood at the foot of the throne.

Liu Kang and (Y/n) exchanged anxious glances At eachother. After the events of last night, (Y/n) could tell her friend’s nerves were a little shaken, despite how composed he seemed. She silently patted his back as a masked guard crossed his arms and moved a little closer to where they stood with Raiden.

“Kombatants! the next match will now begin!”

In a burst of flames, Scorpion teleported into the center of the arena. Everyone gasped in awe, and (Y/n) and Liu Kang shared looks of pure admiration.

“Scorpion!” Shang Tsung called out, “Specter of the Netherrealm! Resurrected by the sorcerer Quan Chi! Who among you is worthy of this challenge?”

“Where is the Lin Kuei Sub-Zero? He killed my family and clan. I will have his head!” The masked man snarled.

Without order, the mask guard standing closest to Raiden promptly walked to the center with Scorpion, discarding his mask and armor as he went.

“I accept the challenge!”

(Y/n)’s face fell. She knew that voice, and it definitely wasn’t Sub-Zero. She looked up at Liu with a worried expression, and he returned her stare with his own.

“Kung Lao?” He whispered as he turned back to the two men standing before them.

“Nevermind the Lin Kuei. Now you face a Shaolin.” He announced.

“Kung Lao, what are you doing here?” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

The man ran two fingers over the brim of his razor sharp hat and turned his vision toward where (Y/n) stood with Raiden and Liu Kang. He pointed directly at the girl.

“(Y/n).”

Oh god.

“I dedicate my soon to be victory to you, my most prized companion.” He said firmly.

She looked around the arena at the other fighters with a mortified expression and caught Sonya and Johnny hiding their smiles under their hands.

“Please don’t do this, Kung Lao.” (Y/n) begged, sweat beginning to form on her temple from the sudden embarrassment she was feeling.

“It has to be done.” He said, assuming a fighting stance.

“All this nonesense to impress (Y/n) (L/n),” Scorpion huffed, “You will regret your impulsiveness.”

The fight commences, and although Kung Lao is a master of the Shaolin arts and a great fighter, his attempt at overpowering someone who’s spent years trapped in the Neatherrealm soon proved to be futile. (Y/n) could feel herself cringe at every severe blow Scorpion landed to Lao’s torso until he ultimately beat him into an unconscious state on the floor.

(Y/n) tore away from the crowd and rushed to Lao’s side, swiftly but gently lifting his torso onto her lap, cradling his head in her arms as his hat laid in the dirt beside them. Scorpion looked down at her, the pity in his eyes seemed almost unbearable to (Y/n).

“He is not yet a warrior. I apologize, (L/n), I did not mean to cause you embarrassment.” He nodded.

(Y/n) shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry, Scorpion. There’s no bad blood between us.”

“Kung Lao!” Liu cried out shortly after as he jogged over to aid them.

He thre Kung Lao’s arm over his shoulder and housed him up, carrying him out of the arena as Lao came to. Raiden and (Y/n) followed shortly behind.

“Listen when your elders speak!” He scolded, “You could not win this fight! And lost it at the expense of both you and dear (Y/n)’s expense!”

“Master, please, that’s enough. He meant no harm.” (Y/n) defended as they entered the main hall.

Raiden sighed angrily, “Take him to the nursery and get him cleaned up.” With that, he turned back around.

———

“Are you sure you want to tend to his wounds by yourself? It’d go a lot faster with my help...” Liu Kang said as he stood in the doorway.

“It’s fine, Liu,” (Y/n) waved him off, “It’d look bad if both of us weren’t present during today’s fights.”

(Y/n) turned around and subtly motioned to Kung Lao, who was spread out on a bench, and shot Liu an expecting look that said, ‘Get out, dumbass, I want to speak with him in private.’

Liu Kang mouthed a silent ‘oh,’ in realization and nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Take care of him, and I’ll be back later to check on the two of you.”

He eagerly left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two together in awkward silence.

(Y/n) sighed and turned to the cabinets to retrieve a towel and bandages.

Kung Lao sat up and huffed in annoyance, “Why must the two of you talk about me as if I’m not here, (Y/n)? I’m perfectly capable of tending to myself, you don’t have to stay.”

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows together but said nothing. She continued on gathering her materials and laid them out on the counter beside them.

“Are you upset with me? Is that what this is?”

Still nothing.

“What? Do you want me to apologize? Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, (Y/n)—,”

“Why are you here, Lao!?” She interrupted sharply.

He scoffed, “Proving I’m equivalent to Liu Kang.”

(Y/n) shook her head angrily. “Why!?” She dipped her small towel in a bowl of water and squeezed it. “You don’t have to prove anything, I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t—,”

“Then help me here, Lao. Explain— Did Raiden... or the elder monks— did they say something to you?”

“That’s not it.” He glanced down.

“Did something happen? I don’t—,”

“It’s you, (Y/n). You’re the reason.” He blurted.

The room was silent again.

“Oh.”

(Y/n) slowly turned around and made her way over to Kung Lao, beckoning for him to give her his arm. She avoided his gaze as she placed the damp towel over a large gash in his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry then... Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” The heartbreak in her tone was prominent.

Kung Lao sighed, “No— sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s my fault.”

(Y/n) paused, “What do you mean?”

Lao timidly placed a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) looked up at him in confusion and scanned his face. He was giving her the same look he had on the morning she left for the tournament. The one that made it seem like he desperately wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or couldn’t muster up the courage to flat out say it.

Kung Lao groaned and burried his face in her other shoulder.

“I like you.” He mumbled, “There, I finally said it. It’s foolish, isn’t it? That I did all of this just because I wanted you to admire me back? I knew the elder monks didn’t choose me for a reason. I’m sure I couldn’t have handled the tournament, anyways—,”

“That’s not it at all!” (Y/n) cried, gingerly wrapping her arms around his torso, “It’s my fault you weren’t chosen, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t understand,” He said, looking up.

(Y/n) sighed, “It was originally supposed to be us two. At the tournament, I mean. The elders said our fighting styles complimented eachother the most out of the three of us. But then I started to slip up during training whenever you were around. I’m sorry, I thought they’d replace me with Liu Kang, but—,”

“They replaced me instead...” Kung Lao finished.

“You are no lesser of a great fighter than Liu Kang. It truly is my fault, Lao.” (Y/n) confessed.

Kung Lao blinked and was silent for a moment. “So... you were slipping up because...?” A cheeky smile slowly made its way onto his face.

(Y/n) signed and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“I like you too, you idiot monk. I always have.”

Kung Lao laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“What didn’t you tell me!?” (Y/n) argued playfully.

“What? Was doing all your chores and things not enough of a sign for you?”

“Well, clearly they weren’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so stressed over the matter.”

“Oh goodness...” Kung Lao chuckled.

They two sat there, holding each other, for a moment until (Y/n) pulled away.

“I have to finish cleaning your wounds, Lao.”

He nodded and sat up straight, removing his shirt so (Y/n) could clean the wounds on his chest.

As he looked down at her hands, gently pressing the towel to his wounds, applying the medicine where needed, and wrapping them up neatly, his eyes couldn’t help but trail over her lips. This wasn’t the first time, naturally, but know that he had confirmation that she was finally his...

He swooped down and captured her hips with his in a chaste but sweet kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds. (Y/n) stared up at him in surprise.

“Too soon?” He half laughed.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a real kiss.

Their lips locked softly once again, and the two of them could feel the sense of pure joy and excitement building up in their chests. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered closed as Kung Lao deepened the kiss. As Lao moved his lips against hers, it tasted sort of metallic from the dried blood that remained on Lao’s lips beforehand, but (Y/n) didn’t seem to mind.

When they finally pulled away, Kung Lao rested chin on top of (Y/n)’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kung Lao,” (Y/n) said endearingly.

He kissed her hair and let out a small laugh.

“For you, perhaps.”

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