#except i have an electronic car key so i keep pressing the button on the fob to unlock my front door

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. ��You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pollylynn]

Title: A Trembling Of  WC: 1800

“How’s that for love?”  — Tildy Maguire, For Better or Worse (6 x 23) 

He loves her and he fears her. These are the anchoring points of their relationship—the anchoring points of his whole world, these days, and three words from a city employee should not be able to pry them up and set the two of them adrift. Proof of divorce? Nothing in this or any other universe should be able to pry them up and set the two of them adrift, and yet here they are. He loves her no less—he could never love her any less—but right now, he fears for her, and that is a rip in the very fabric of reality. But how can he do otherwise? 

Here she is, silent in the back of the cab.  She has not said—will not say—one word as they lurch their way through the horrors of late afternoon traffic in Manhattan, and he’d like to think it’s the inadequate privacy offered by the plexiglass barrier that has sealed her lips. He’d like to believe that she’s so enchanted by the memory of the days when Paul Sorvino or Joe Torre or Eartha Kitt reminded New York taxi passengers to buckle up, take their belongings, get a receipt before exiting the back seat, she has nothing to say about the present. He’d like to believe that three words from a city employee have not fundamentally altered her lovable, fear-inspiring self, and yet . . . 

Here she is, finally home, and yet there is nothing like relief here. There is nothing like relief anywhere in sight. Here she is with her head in her hands, and they’re telling his mother, they’re telling his daughter, because they kind of have to tell them. They very probably are kind of going to have to tell everyone, but this tiny test balloon at him is so awful. 

His mother—she of the child-producing one-night stand with a probable sociopath is volubly incredulous: Who is Rogan O’Leary? His daughter—she of the lease with the bee-counting, continent-hopping, passport-losing peace disturbing Pi is volubly appalled: And you married him? He of an untold number of colossal mistakes in the personal and professional realms, in the public eye and in private, is damnably smug: And here I thought you were a one and done kind of girl.

He regrets it the instant it’s out of his mouth. He bounces around the tattered remnants of reality. He goes back in time and regrets it, except there is a moment, there is an instant, there is the merest spark of absolute fury behind her eyes, and he feels the world come right. He feels reality knitting itself back up again. He feels himself quaking in his bespoke boots, secure in the knowledge that she will make him pay, and he is fine with that. He is absolutely fine.  

He loves her and he fears her, these are the anchors of his entire world, gloriously restored, and that is just as it should be. 

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

He loves her and he fears her and he loves her just that little bit more when everything fearsome about her is directed at someone else. Oh, how he loves being able to watch the fireworks from minimum safe distance, so he’s excited when she sets off for Willow Creek. He’s racked with guilt and uncertainty, too, because she’s going alone and he worries that it’s self-flagellation—that it’s an occasion to be afraid for her—but ultimately, he’s excited. 

She is determined when she leaves. She has her keys clutched in her fist and she won’t take an overnight bag. 

“Not even a toothbrush?” He turns up the innocence. It’s a calculated risk. It’s more fuel for the fire that burning in her, fierce and bright now, and it works.

“Not. Even. A toothbrush.” She enunciates each and every letter. She grabs the front of his shirt with her free hand and reels him in until they’re sharing air molecules. “Won’t need it.”

And then she’s gone, but not gone. 

She is on the other end of the phone as soon as she has hunted down her soon-but-not-soon-enough-to-be ex. She is fierce, roaring as she rails against the stupidity of the quest he’s sent her on. 

“Like he’s the damned Wizard of Oz,” she snarls.

“More like the Wizard of Id,” he quips. He’s thinking about being eighteen and all primitive instinct. He’s thinking about drunken nights on the strip and impulse weddings. He’s not really thinking, and it’s fuel for the fire. He swears she’s scorched his ear, she’s scorched the whole side of his brain closest to the phone, so maybe that’s a little too much fuel. 

Except he thinks that might be what sustains her through the abduction of Rogan, through the indifference and grudging pity of the local constabulary. He tells himself on his own frantic drive up to Willow Creek that he’s managed to make her spitting mad enough that she’s not sitting there, alone, with her head in her hands. 

It’s true. It’s mostly true that she’s down to embers when he gets there, but there’s more than enough Logan-related fury to go around. There’s coma wife and the sheer madness of digging through his pornographic electronic mash notes. There are bikers and strippers and a murderous mob boss. There is an entire Logan-based mad, mad, mad, mad world and she is definitely mad about it. 

She is quick thinking and—other than a few slightly moist moments about the dress—she is laser focused on getting this done. She is mean to Logan, and after the whole Man Parts contretemps, that is a delight and a turn on and the world turning beautifully on its axis precisely as it should turn. 

She is a warrior goddess, hell bent on marrying him—him—and he is blown away by that honor and privilege.

He loves her. He fears her. He’s going to marry her. 

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

He loves her. He just loves her. It’s hard for them to part ways in stupid Willow Creek, but there’s really nothing for it. She has her car, and he has his. He has to get to the city. He has to start the paperwork on its warp speed journey through the system, and she has to get to the Hamptons to figure out what she’s going to wear. 

“I’m all for nothing at—“ 

She cuts that off with a twist of his ear that takes him right back to the beginning—right back to when she was Our Lady of Smug, patron saint of the One and Done Girl—and that makes it really hard to part ways, because he would love to get in some last-minute fear and trembling in one back seat or the other before she makes an honest man of him. He really would but there’s just no time. He has to settle for backing her up hard against the driver’s side door of her car and kissing the life out of her. He has to settle for the same as she backs him up hard against the passenger side door of his car where it’s pulled up alongside hers. They have to settle for peeling their bodies apart, breathless, eager, and reluctant, all at once. 

“Be safe,” she breathes, her forehead pressed against his. “Hurry, but be safe.” 

“You, too.” He steals one last kiss, then hurries around the hood to slide behind the wheel, to get on with it. 

He’s not three miles down the road when his phone rings through the car’s bluetooth. He feels an eager grin spread across his face as he thumbs the button. “Miss me already?” 

“No,” she retorts immediately, adamantly. “Yes,” she admits slowly, reluctantly. “Shut up,” she orders, shooting an arrow of fear right through his heart, though it softens—it downright melts—when she adds, “Keep me company.” 

He does. He keeps her company, though there’s not a lot of heavy lifting involved. She wants to talk—a positivity rarity for her—and other than her, there’s little he loves more in this stitched-up, much-mended reality than to listen when the mood strikes her. So he listens as she wanders far and wide, as she roams through the month or so of Rogan, and when the time is right, he is going to have so many follow-up questions about where Eddie Vedder’s jean jacket wound up and exactly how far she can chuck a hoagie while running down the strip full tilt. 

It’s not all fun and games, though. How could it be? But it’s okay. He loves her. He loves her, and when it comes to the place where this was always leading, he’s there. He’s on the other end of the phone. He’s listening. 

“I was married then. When my mom died.” Her voice is even. It’s controlled, though he can hear her heaving a shaky sigh. “I told her the whole saga.” Another shaky sigh.”Almost the whole saga with Rogan. We laughed about it.” There’s a silence long enough that he’s worried the call has dropped, but her voice fills up the speakers again. “I feel like I have to . . . confess to her or something. Give her a chance to say I told you so. I feel like I owe her that.” 

It’s a heartsore place for things to land. He doesn’t have a joke or anything gallant locked and loaded, but that doesn’t feel right anyway. He’d tear another hole in the fabric of reality if he could. He’d give her closure. He will give her closure if he can—a trip to her mom’s grave with her hand in his, a letter written and burned, its ashes scattered on the wind, whatever she wants, he’ll do. 

“I’m okay, Castle,” she says quietly, she says knowing he was wondering. “Really.” 

“I know you are,” he says, and it’s true. “I’m glad you are.” 

That’s true, too, in the most comprehensive sense. He is glad she’s okay. He is glad of whoever, whatever, however she is in any given moment.  

He hears the road beneath his own tires, the road beneath hers. She stays on the line, though she is quiet now and a little sad. She wants things he can’t give her—he hasn’t yet devised a way to give her—and that’s a little maddening. But she is more than okay, and he is more than okay with that. She is fierce and fear-inducing and lonely for her mom and a little bit raw right now.

He loves her and he fears her. He has the twin anchors for his whole world on the other end of the line. That’s as it should be.

A/N: A group of finches is called a trembling. That is a thing. This is not a thing. It is an uneven atrocity, not a thing. 

images via homeofthenutty

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 17

From Lovers to Strangers

SUMMARY: Liam rushes to Ramsford after hearing about Riley

Word Count: ~4.9k

Warnings: Mention of character death, language

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here

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I’m so sorry, I don’t know if the tags are working or not... but I hope I got everyone down! If I missed someone, or anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

...Present Day...

- Liam - 

Gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he could, Liam swerves in between other vehicles on the highway, doing everything he could to get to Riley faster. I should have made driving too slow illegal, Liam thinks after getting trapped momentarily between drivers going at their own comfortable pace. They block him from all sides until he loses his nerve and punches the horn, scaring other drivers to move out of Liam’s way. 

Almost twice he bumps into another car when trying to change lanes at the same time. Then, he gets stuck in traffic, where Liam forced himself to wait for a total of seventeen seconds — during which the cars around him didn’t move a centimeter — until he drives the car into the grass next to the roadway and continues. 

Thankfully the dirt wasn’t muddy or bumpy, so Liam reaches Ramsford thirty minutes sooner than he would have if he’d continued on the roadway. 

He doesn’t even take the keys out of the ignition before racing across the driveway and knocking furiously on the front door. Liam tries to push it open to no avail, then screams for Maxwell to open the door. 

Drake is the one who allows him to enter. When Liam tries to push past him, Drake blocks his path and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Wait a sec, Liam,” Drake tries to stop Liam from rushing into the estate. 

“Where is she? What happened? Is she alright?” Liam begins to push forward, but Drake shoves him back. 

“Calm the fuck down, Liam!” Drake says in a low voice through barred teeth. “The kids saw us bringing her upstairs and started crying.”

Liam feels his heart clench.

“Rowan started fussing over where to put her and Gabriel looked like he was about to pass out. Maxwell thought to distract them with some TV, but they’re still unsettled. Don’t make it worse.”

“Where are they?” Liam tries to walk away from Drake again. 

“We put them in their own room next to Riley’s. East wing.” 

Before Drake can say anything else, Liam races up the stairs and down the hall. He turns his head to look into each room as he passes.

Liam slows once he hears strange voices. Nearing a room with an open door, he sees Gabriel and Eleanor’s tear-streaked faces illuminated by a television in front of Ella, while Gabe stares down at a laptop. Ella watches a group of teenagers and a talking dog lead an investigation, while Gabriel furiously types. Neither of them look up when Liam’s figure blocks the doorway. 

He wonders if the light from the electronics strain their eyes, so he moves his hand along the wall to turn on the ceiling light. When it turns on, both children squint in Liam’s direction, blinking rapidly. 

Once their vision clears again, Ella gives a tired wave and says, “Hi, Liam.” 

“Hello, Ella.” He’s about to move forward to wrap the exhausted child in his arms, but his heart is still racing. “Do you know where your mother is?” 

Eleanor points behind her. “In that room with Aunt Rowan.” 

Liam leaves the doorway and goes to the door next to it, which is closed. He reaches to open it, but notices a dim light coming from the space at the bottom. If she’s still unconscious, perhaps I could spend time with the children? Liam goes back into the children’s room.

There are two couches, and each of them sit on a separate one. Noticing that Gabriel has his eyes locked on the laptop screen, Liam takes a seat next to Eleanor instead. 

He leans back against the cushions, and she leans her head against his arm. Liam contemplates putting a fatherly arm around her, but decides that he shouldn’t test his luck; it was enough that she allowed him to sit next to her. He didn’t want to move a lot to make her change her mind. 

“What are you watching?” he asks her quietly, mindful of Gabriel focusing on his device. 

Eleanor yawns before she answers: “Scooby Doo.” 

“Oh. What is it about?” 

“It’s about this dog who talks and helps his human friends solve mysteries.” 

“Really?” Liam tries to sound enthusiastic to keep the conversation going. “What kind of mysteries?” 

He feels her shrug against his arm. “All kinds. Daddy said that this one is a newer series. There’s an evil owl who wants to end the world.”

“An evil owl?” Liam thinks to himself, What on Earth do they make children watch nowadays?

“Uh huh. And he has a German accent and—” she breaks off her sentence to yawn again “—and he was also in a mystery solving group.”

“Really?” Liam continues watching the show with her, uncertain of what was happening. “Do you have a favorite character?”

“I like Scooby. That’s the dog’s name.” She lifts her head from his arm to look up at Liam. “Do you have a favorite character yet?”

“Well... uh.” Liam stutters while glancing rapidly between the characters on the screen. “What about that blond one in the white shirt? He seems like a leader.”

“That’s Fred,” she tells Liam. “Mama used to say that he was obsessive.” 

Liam tries to laugh at Eleanor’s insight, Leo’s words vibrating through his head. She gives a sleepy chuckle, then puts her head back on his arm. 

After a few minutes, Drake silently knocks on the doorframe. Only Liam looks up, and Drake asks him if he had a chance to call Olivia and Hana yet. 

“No, I was occupied.” He remembers Leo having the nerve to visit him, and Liam’s jaw clenches. 

“You gonna do it in the morning?” Drake asks. 

“Yes, I will make sure to.” 

Drake nods and then walks off. 

For the next few hours, Liam sits silently next to Eleanor watching the show, occasionally pressing buttons on the remote next to him to get to the next episode. Eventually, he hears her loudly breathing, and when Liam glances down he can see that she fell asleep leaning against him. 

He cradles her head and neck in his other arm, then grabs a couch cushion to put under her head as he lies her down. Liam considers putting her on the bed, but doesn’t want to wake her. Instead, he grabs the blanket off of the bed and places it on her. 

Gabriel is still on the laptop. Liam takes out his phone to find that it was almost midnight. 

He takes a seat next to his son. Gabriel doesn’t look up at his father, and keeps scrolling through some articles. 

“What are you looking at?” Liam asks. 

The boy doesn’t glance up when he responds, “News articles. About the bombing.”

Liam frowns, wondering why Gabriel was researching an event that brought him so much emotional pain. “What have you found?”

He sits up straight and turns to look at Liam. Gabriel gazes at his father with a controlled intensity. The boy knew what he was talking about. “They think the bombers were foreigners ‘cause there’s some evidence towards one of them having come on a plane from Europe. And there are also a couple missing paintings from French, Austrian, and Cordonian painters. But from the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah.” Liam leans closer to try and see what the article says. “Do you know which pieces?” 

“One was The Dance Class and another one is... uh... Bain à la G- Gren?” Gabriel turns the computer screen towards Liam. He sees an oil painting of people on a boat and on what seemed to be a man-made island or platform in the middle of a lake. 

On the bottom of the image was the title, “Bain à la Grenouillère,” which Liam pronounces for Gabriel. 

“Yeah, that,” he says. “And there are some others, too, but I can’t find that much information on them. There are two more that they think were stolen and another few they think might have burned.”

Liam allows Gabriel to continue scrolling and typing for a few more moments. He regards his son’s features. The slight upward curve of his chin and nose are the same as Liam’s, but the curve of his ears and the vague eyebrow arch scream Riley. Gabriel’s eyelashes are longer compared to Liam’s when he was a child, and they brush against his pale cheek. While he gazes down onto the laptop screen — as the ceiling light slightly flickers and the field outside the window seemed like a dark canvas — Gabriel looks almost otherworldly, like he’s not real. Maybe it was the sleep in Liam’s eyes, but for a moment he feels like he’s hallucinating, but he turns his head to see Eleanor still sleeping on the other couch, and Gabriel began to fiercely type something. It’s like they were born from a dream.

Both Liam and Gabriel turn their heads when there’s a loud noise from the television. The characters are being chased, and while running, they are accidentally separated from each other. 

Gabriel chuckles and tells Liam, “I hate the way Scooby talks.” 

“Why?” Liam asks. 

“Because he starts every word with the ‘r’ sound. This one time—” he laughs to himself “—Ella had this phase where she would talk like Scooby. It was only for like, two months, but it was the most annoying thing ever.” 

Liam laughs, imagining younger and chubbier versions of his children annoyed with each other. 

“My brother and I were like that, too,” Liam tells his son. He doesn’t expect Gabriel to listen, but when he turns to look at Liam, his heart stops for a moment. 

“Really? Did you annoy him or was it the other way around?” There’s a true excitement in Gabriel’s voice, and Liam could tell that he was trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Both, actually. There was this show that we used to watch when we were children. The Andy Griffith Show.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.” 

Afraid that Gabriel would lose interest, Liam sits forward and continues, “For a long time I used to whistle the tune for the show, like this.” He proceeds to whistle a lively tune while snapping his fingers. 

“That’s... actually really good!” Gabriel comments. The amused look on his face sends a spark of joy through Liam. “It’s not annoying! Well... maybe if you did it too loud.” 

“It wasn’t my volume that annoyed my brother,” Liam explains. “I used to be terrible at whistling, but I refused to stop playing the tune.” 

“Oh.” Gabriel chuckles. “I whistle a little too loud, and Ella hates it. She says it hurts the inside of her ears so I stopped doing it around her.”

“Perhaps I can... teach you the song in the morning?” Liam hesitates. He wanted to take this opportunity of Gabriel’s friendliness, but didn’t want to do anything that might make Gabriel wish to avoid such conversations in the future. 

“Y- Yeah,” Gabriel says. The boy’s lips twitch upwards, and Liam smiles warmly. 

Liam takes out his phone to check the time again. “Well, it’s getting late.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gabriel closes the tabs he had open, and turns the laptop off. Putting it on the coffee table, he takes a cushion and puts it under his head. Once Liam understands that he wanted to sleep on the couch, he goes into a closet to grab another blanket. Gabriel gives a tight smile when Liam drapes it over him. “Thanks.” 

Liam moves a lock of hair out of Gabriel’s eyes, then goes to check on Ella. She was on her stomach, turned away from Liam. He goes to turn off the light, and through the light in the hallway, he sees Gabriel lift a hand in farewell. Liam raises his hand as well, then closes the door.

He walks back towards the foyer, hoping to see someone who could lead Liam to a room he could stay in, when he remembers the car. Only Drake knew that he had arrived, but he was unsure if Drake knew to take the keys out of the ignition. 

Liam quickly goes down the stairs and slowly opens the door to peer out. He can’t see the car, and instead hears sniffling. 

Someone is crying. 

Liam freezes, focusing in on the sound. There’s an immense pain in the person’s huffing. It seems like they’re having difficulty breathing through the tears, and Liam’s breath catches in his throat. 

Sure he had cried very often himself when he was younger, he had heard Olivia weep as a child, and Liam had also seen Hana cry when she announced that she was leaving Cordonia to get married. But this sound was different; the person whimpers for a few moments, as if they’re trying to calm themself. 

It’s a painful noise, and has gripped Liam’s heart. He turns his head, almost involuntarily, and sees Riley sitting on the couch on the patio, her back facing him. Her shoulders are hunched, though they shake with the force of her tears. He wonders how she got downstairs.

Liam forces his legs to stay in place. Running to her while she was crying didn’t seem like the best idea. He softly closes the door behind him, expecting her to turn at the sound of the click, but she doesn’t move. His heart begs him to run towards her, wrap her in his arms. He doesn’t even realize that he’s moving in her direction. 

Liam sits on the couch towards her left. He wants to say something. His heart aches — this was the moment he had been waiting forever for. His mind rehearses what he wanted say to her; though he had been practicing the past ten years, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

I love you, Riley. I’ve missed you, Riley. Why did you leave me, Riley? Are you upset to be back, Riley? I still love you, Riley. Do you remember me, Riley? 

I’m sorry, my love. 

Grief stops him from saying anything. He allows her to cry, though the sound pushes him deeper into sadness. The moment feels like eternity, but Liam still says nothing. She seemed to be crying for both of them. Perhaps for Theodore, too. Watching her cry squeezed Liam’s heart so ferociously that for a moment he believed death would cause less pain.  

Her crying slows to just sniffles. Riley lifts her head but stares out into nothingness. Liam knows she can see him from the corner of her eyes, but he still doesn’t wish to speak. If he did, who was to say that she wouldn’t run away again? 

Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here. I am the one who brings her so much pain. For her sake I should have let her be. 

She turns to look at him, and they lock eyes. Riley’s face is red and puffy, but she’s still the most beautiful and purest thing he’s ever seen. 

They sit like that for a while, Liam’s heart alight. For him, the moment was sore: painful, with the fear that doing anything more could ruin this action of reserved love. 

They have everything to say to each other, they have nothing to say to each other.

Finally, she breaks his gaze and stares down at her knees, running her hands up and down her legs. “Are the kids asleep?” 

Once the words register in Liam’s mind, he answers, “Yes.” Out of fear that those words would be the only she would say to him, he continues, “The flight must have exhausted them.” 

She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh. She looks up at the dark landscape again, this time a nostalgic look in her eyes. “Theo used to stay up all night with them before we traveled, just so they would sleep on the plane.” Her lips twisted, and she puts her head in her hands. 

Hearing moments of their family together sent a jolt of anger through Liam’s body. He wanted to erase that man from Riley’s life and replace it with himself. There was no doubt in his heart that he would have treated Riley better, he would have loved her better.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Riley says through tears, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe I spent the last few weeks oblivious to the fact that he died. Alone. And I let it happen.”

She remembers?

Liam jumps up from his seat to sit next to her. “Riley, none of that was your fault.” He puts an arm around her, and she leans into his chest, shaking. Their knees collide, and it feels like second nature when he puts a hand under her cast and brings her legs over his thighs. Her head falls under his chin, and he leans down to kiss her temple. 

But then she takes in an unstable breath and shuffles to the opposite side of the couch. 

She remembers.

He’s surprised, but also embarrassed that he let his feelings overtake him. “I’m sorry, my love,” he blurts out. 

“Don’t—” Riley begins, but stops herself. She puts her head in her hands again. 

Liam blinks the pain away. He feels small, suddenly. Alone. Adrift. Lost.

Her voice is broken when she says, “Ten years. More than a decade... before it felt like we would last forever. We had to. But now look at us. We’re practically strangers.”

He wants to scream, But I still love you. Perhaps I love you more now than before. Do not for a moment think that a day went by during which you did not occupy my heart and mind entirely. Instead he manages, “That’s not true.”

She looks at him with a face that screams “you can’t be serious?” Shaking her head, Riley states, “Liam, ten years is a long time. Longer than either of us have realized.”

He sits confused for a moment, thinking about how the time went by in slow motion for him. “I feel like I’ve lived and eternity within those ten years.” 

She chuckles, the melody warming Liam’s heart. “I think having kids does the opposite. One minute they’re saying their first words, the next—” She stops, her eyes going wide. “Liam, I didn’t mean—”

He puts up a hand, “Please, we don’t have to discuss that right now.” 

Her eyes brim with tears when she says, “You have no reason to believe me when I say that I wanted to tell you more than anything. I was about to fight Theo while he was bringing me to the hospital.” Her voice breaks again when she says, “I didn’t want to have the baby without you.”

Anger shoots through his veins when Liam hears the man’s name. But that was Riley’s husband. She was now Theo’s widow. He didn’t want to upset her more than she already was. “At least you weren’t alone.” 

She leans her head backwards, her features now numb. Riley stares at the sky and says, “And then I let him die alone. All he wanted to do was help.”

Liam feels his skin boil, momentarily glad that man was dead and out of his way. 

When they slip into silence, Liam leans his head back as well, staring at the stars that glittered behind the clouds, listening to the crickets and the music of night. Neither of them move, but after a while, Liam’s eyes become heavy with sleep. He turns to look at Riley.

“It’s late,” Liam says. 

“You’re right.” She stands, and Liam notices the crutches against the wall. He hands them to her, and goes to open the door. When they reach the stairs, she carefully pulls herself up a few steps. 

“Please, don’t hurt yourself,” Liam says. He holds her hand to help her stand, then takes the crutches from her, balancing them against the railing. He puts an arm under her knees and lifts her. To his surprise, she snuggles into his chest. 

On the top of the stairs, she says that she can continue by herself, but Liam mentions that her crutches are still at the bottom of the stairs. 

She looks up at him. “You can go get them. I’ll wait. I don’t want to strain you.” 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Really.” He would carry her to the ends of the Earth if it meant that she would go through less pain.

Liam carries Riley to her room, gently placing her on the bed. He pulls the blanket over her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, and turns away from him. 

“Good night, Riley,” he says, turning off the lights. 

Liam found Bertrand in the study, and the Duke gave Liam a room for the night. Sitting on the bed, Liam began to cry. It was only tears falling down his face. His breathing was still even but his eyes burned. Holding Riley against himself had felt like a blessing. Bring able to press his lips against her head. Not the Riley who didn’t know who he was, but the Riley who knew the weight of their shared past. For the last ten years he had been a drowning man, and Riley was his air. 

He knew she was the only woman he would ever love, and now, with the relief that had filled his soul after he knew she remembered him, it was beyond confirmed. Even though he was not the only man Riley had loved, he was determined to show her that his love for her was greater than any other metaphorical or physical thing in existence.

He promised himself that he would take the next opportunity to talk to her. There are so many things he needs to ask her, so many things that need to happen for them to be together again. 

She has her memory back. She remembered. The next few steps shouldn’t be too difficult.

...

The next morning when Liam sits at the table for breakfast with everyone, he wants to ask Riley’s whereabouts, since she’s the only person not at the table. But Drake talks with Savannah and Bertrand, while Maxwell and Rowan have talk quietly between themselves. 

“Did you sleep well?” Liam asks Gabriel. 

The boy’s mouth is filled with pancakes, so he just nods. 

“I wanted to tell you that I had someone create a lesson plan for you.” That wasn’t completely a lie. “I think it would be best for you to start as soon as possible, seeing that the social season is quickly approaching.” 

“Considering the social season,” Bertrand jumps in. “I think now is the time to send an announcement out to the people.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t push Gabriel into the spotlight too soon?” Savannah suggests. 

“True,” Liam comments. “But he has been kept from the people’s knowledge long enough. It’ll take a while for us to convince them that it was for good reason.”

“Perhaps it would be best to schedule a press conference as well?” Bertrand asks. 

Liam chews thoughtfully. “Yes, but it would be better to have it a few days before the social season starts. Just to give Gabriel some time to get accustomed to courtly life.”

“Li, two weeks isn’t enough,” Drake states.

Liam sighs. “You’re right.” He turns to look at the children, who stare back at him. “I will call Duchess Olivia and Countess Hana. They can help the children in their lessons and give them some tips. And of course I will always be nearby.”

The children smile, then turn back to their food. 

After the plates are cleared, Liam suggests that Bartie bring Eleanor and Gabriel to the ballroom to teach them the Cordonian Waltz. Liam promises to help them, but first decides to go talk to Riley about the announcement.

He knocks on her door, and hears a faint, “Come in.”

When Liam walks in, she seems shocked. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Is... this a bad time?” Her hair is wet and her skin glistens. Liam can tell she just came out of the shower. 

“No, it’s fine.” She laughs. “I thought it would be Maxwell.” 

Liam chuckles. “He always woke you during the social season, didn’t he?” 

Riley smiles to herself. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could have been the one to greet you every morning, but I’m glad you were always met by a friendly face.” 

Her smile falters. After a moment, she says, “Liam, we need to talk. About everything.” 

He holds up a hand. “I know, love.” He clears his throat, wondering if she was still comfortable with him calling her that. “We have a lot to discuss, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve hold Bertrand to help send out an announcement about Gabriel.” 

Her eyebrows crease. “What about Gabriel?” 

He pauses, wondering what her expression meant. “That he will be anointed as the heir at the end of the social season.” 

“Liam, are you serious?” She shakes her head. “You’re just going to push him into courtly life? With no knowledge of how anything works, of how people act? I felt stressed during my social season, and I was just a suitor. As the heir there’s going to be so many things he needs to learn—”

“Yes, and he’s already ten years late,” Liam interrupts her, trying to be convincing. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel stressed. “Riley, trust me, this is in his best interest.” 

“Excuse you?” Riley’s face hardens, and Liam regrets his words. 

He knew she was in a delicate position, perhaps it would have been best to let her speak. 

She continues, “It’s not in his best interest, it’s in your best interest, because you need an heir.” 

Liam takes a step back, offended. “I meant to say that it’s in his best interests because as Crown Prince, there are such things due to him which he hasn’t received—”

“Oh, God, Liam. You haven’t changed, have you?” Riley frowns and looks Liam up and down, seemingly disappointed. 

Liam regards her, too, wondering where these thoughts were coming from. Did she not trust him anymore? Who poisoned her mind against him?

“You’re the same,” she states. “Willing to throw people you ‘care about’ under stress and anxiety so you look good in front of your people. Is that why you brought my family here when I was suffering from memory loss? So you could put him through whatever you wanted while I would be oblivious to it?” 

Liam’s face falls. Did she think he was being selfish? “Of course not, Riley. And I’ll be there to help him with whatever he needs, and I will do the same for you.” 

“Just like you were there to help me during the social season?” 

“Riley, that was different.” 

“How so?” 

“I told you, Riley, I had to be fair to the other suitors, I had to—”

“How is his first social season going to be any different than mine? Considering all the pain and humiliation I was put through? Not only will I be badmouthed again, but Gabe will, too.” 

“I won’t allow that to happen.” 

“Really?” Her eyes redden. “Just like you didn’t allow the court to shame, bully, and taunt me during your Engagement Tour?” 

Liam felt like he was being backed into a corner, and he didn’t like it. He was doing everything in his power not to lash out at Riley. Liam knew she was in a delicate position. It was his job to make her feel better, not worse. 

He walks up to her, holding her hands in his, the softness of her skin a fresh feeling, but she yanks her hands away. 

They stand inches from each other, Riley staring defiantly up at him, while Liam looked down at her in pity and heartbreak. 

Neither of us have changed, have we? 

That’s not right. She’s changed. 

"Riley,” Liam says in a soft voice, staring deep into her eyes, quietly begging her to be on his side. “I know there is a lot we have to discuss, and you know I have a duty to my country, to my people. It’s not my choice whether or not to introduce Gabriel to everyone, it’s my obligation. But, Riley, I promise you, I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you or our son.” 

She sighs, about to respond to his declaration, but Eleanor walks through the door, crying, “Mama! I learned the Cordonian Waltz!”

Liam turns, noticing Bartie and Gabe in the doorway. He turns to Ella and says, “That quickly?” 

“Yup! Look!” 

She proceeds to hold up her arms around an invisible partner, then takes a few calculated steps and spins. Finally, she strikes a pose facing away from Liam and Riley, both of who begin to applaud. 

“That was great, baby!” Riley says, reaching to hug her daughter. 

Liam turns to ask Gabriel if he’s had the same luck as his sister, but Rowan appears. “Hey, Riley,” she says. “Have you had breakfast yet?” 

“No. I was going to come down in a minute.” Riley glances in Liam’s direction. 

He puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her, “I’ll be in the Duke’s office, helping the announcement and press conference.” 

Liam stands next to her for a few more moments, his heart aching for her to look up at him. He turns to leave, and Eleanor waves at him, while Gabriel gives the most genuine smile Liam has seen.

[joonsdragoneyes]

My One and Only [1][M]

{Yandere!Yoongi x Student!Reader}

{18+}

Warnings: Mentions of violence, language, mentions of stalking, mentions of drugging/drug use, mentions of murder, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of manipulation/obsession/jealousy, smut at some point maybe, warnings may be added as series progresses depending on content of the chapter

Word count: 2.1k

*A/N: This is my first full series, so please let me know what I can improve on! Also, this was proof read but some things still might have been missed, so apologies for any errors! Also I can’t write teenagers texting lmao sorry if it’s awkward

“Please, don’t go.”

Min Yoongi has been your friend for as long as you can remember. He was calm, patient, quiet, understanding; he was comforting. He was warm, and you tried your best to show off this warmth to everyone you could. He got along with everyone, but for some reason still seemed to chose you every time the choice came up. Now, here he was, in the same university as you in a room right down the hall. You didn’t mind though, it was nice to have a friend around. Everything was going well- that is until a student suddenly goes missing. The campus now shut down, you have nowhere to run- nowhere to turn to except to your dear friend. He had always promised to keep you safe and protect you. 

After all, he loves you you’re his best friend.

Voices echoed off the walls, many thousands of conversations overlapping and meshing together. You clutched the little pamphlet in your hands, moving steadily through the hot room as you tried to find the desk you were supposed to have been at 5 minutes ago. An air conditioner hummed from somewhere in the background, but you couldn’t tell if you were sweaty from your nerves or if it wasn’t working. You were glad, though, that due to the heat, you had avoided wearing makeup. The thought of all of that time and effort being sweat off was mildly distressing, especially since you’d be in this room all day. You didn’t want someone’s first impression of you to be your sweaty, smeared face- that’d be horrifying, especially if they ended up being your roommate. Where was this desk? In your moment of zoning out, you realized you weren’t going anywhere. Pausing, you began to look around for anything that resembled a desk, or a table, something. You couldn’t get into your room without an I.D and password, so, reluctantly, you went to find someone who could help you. Unfolding the pamphlet, you approached, smiling a bit as the woman turned slightly in your direction. “Excuse me.” You piped up, holding up the thick paper. “Where do I get my I.D and password? I’ve been here for a while and need to get to my room.” The woman in front of you smiled, small dimples appearing on her cheeks as she gently grabbed the sides of the pamphlet. Her slender fingers crinkled the thick paper ever so slightly as she pointed to the small map at the top. “I haven’t gotten mine yet, but I saw them in this corner over here. There’s about three of them just for I.D’s, so I think it’s by your last name.-” She began, her fingers moving slowly around with each word. “-But you should be able to get your password and schedule from the same table. If not, it might be in your building.” “Thank you so much.” Your eyes dropped to her outstretched hand as you put the pamphlet away. Slowly, you took it, her hand firmly gripping yours instantly. “What’s your name?” She chirped. She seemed to radiate happiness and confidence, and this handshake alone brought you comfort. “Y/N.” You responded. “That’s pretty. I’m Laura. I hope we see each other again, but good luck on getting into your room.”                         _______________

The card reader let out a soft beep as you finally finished pressing the buttons. After five or so failed attempts, you were in, already tired from the great distance it took to get here. You were almost on the last floor, and just your luck, the elevator is down for the week. Wandering around the space, you looked everything over, contemplating on whether you needed to bring every box. A sudden knock on the door brought you back to reality. A figure was standing in the doorway, you wondering who it was in your haste. You didn’t even remember leaving the door open until it suddenly clicked, a smile spreading across your face as you finally realized. “Yoongi!” You ran over, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here?” He must’ve grown his hair out over the summer. His dark blue hair was gone, replaced with shiny, black strands- standing up as if he just rolled out of bed. His cheeks and nose were slightly pink from the sun, his eyes smiling as he did. “You had no interest in attending a University, I’m so surprised.” “I changed my mind.” He laughed at your excitement. “I didn’t say anything until I knew for sure I’d be here because I wanted to surprise you and didn’t want you to be disappointed if I didn’t.” He paused, seeming to think about something for a second before continuing. “I was just unpacking and thought I heard your voice down the hall, I’m in 823.” “Unpacking must’ve been easy for you; you didn’t usually bring a lot of things around.” You laughed slightly. “I was just wondering how I’d bring everything up when you got here.” He looked somewhat past you at those words, taking in the sight of your empty room before returning his gaze to you. “I’ll help, just let me finish with mine. You can come to sit in there if you want until then; it won’t be very long.” You nodded, following behind him down the hall, the carpet soft under your sandals. You were surprised to see the kitchen already fully stocked, the hardwood floor creaking slightly under both of your feet. His roommate could be heard in the next room hanging something up, music playing softly from both rooms. “Sit wherever you’d like.” Climbing the ladder, you sat on his bed, leaning over the railing to watch him. Multiple large pillows covered his bed, his thick blanket poking over the sides. Lights shone from under the bed, the music louder from his open laptop as he quickly put everything in small drawers. A few more boxes remained the labels written hastily. The smaller box could hardly be made out, something along the lines of ‘electronics/ extension chords,’ but the others could scarcely even be read. Your curiosity was getting the best of you, but you didn’t want to ask. After all, it might be something personal. “You ready?” He piped up; his head craned up to see you. He looked so small from up here. “Already? That was fast. What about the other boxes?” “It’s just clothes and extension chords. I can do those later.” He grinned, watching you slowly climb down. “You can drop your bag off at your room, and we’ll go.” You could feel him watching you as you went into your room. Your roommate still hadn’t arrived, but you closed the door just in case. “Alright.” “You think you’ll need a cart?” Yoongi asked, hands sliding into his front pockets as you both trotted quickly down the stairs. His hair bounced with each step. “No, we should carry them. I don’t think we’d be able to get the cart up the stairs.” You laughed a bit. He pushed the door open, watching you as you walked by. His eyes were soft, the brown of his eyes melting in the sun, his teeth on full display as he grinned. “Ah, it’s hot.” He whined a bit, finally letting the door close behind him. It was pretty hot, you had to admit, and it seemed only to be climbing. When you arrived, it was only 80 (26 °C) but had shot up to about 95 (35 °C), and you were still sweating from earlier despite the many air conditioners in the building. Despite your t-shirt and shorts, you were still uncomfortable, and based on the soft complaints from Yoongi, so was he. “If we’re quick, we can take a break and go sit in the common area, maybe get some ice cream as well to cool off.” You suggested, quickly opening the trunk of your car to reveal the many boxes held within. Yoongi let out a soft grunt of agreement, your shoulders softly bumping together as he leaned in to grab one of the more massive boxes immediately. “You didn’t bring much, huh?” He observed, his knees buckling slightly under the weight of the moving boxes. “Thought I could buy anything else I needed.” The card reader beeped as you pressed your back pocket against it, the cold air hitting you as Yoongi forced the door open with his foot. He let out a soft grunt as he held it open, waiting for you to walk inside. You only told him to go ahead, moving your hips close so he could grab your key tied around your belt loop. “You’ve got the heavier box, just go ahead.” Reluctantly, he grabbed your key, making his way up the many stairs quickly. You set your box down by the door, propping it open as you ran back to get more small boxes. At this rate it'd take forever, and you were hot and sweaty. 

Beginning to stack the boxes on each other, you picked them up, your own knees buckling as you made your way up the stairs behind him.

The common area was surprisingly quiet; only a few smaller groups of friends sprawled out on couches. It was somewhat late in the day now, and orange light was beginning to flood in through the large, open windows. The smell of food from some of the smaller shops and the on-campus convenience store filled your senses as you turned your meal card over in your hands.

"What do you want?" Yoongi piped up next to you. "It's not even the first day yet, so much isn't open." He pointed out, his slender fingers playing with his own meal card. You looked the different shops over, your stomach growling. "Anything."

Yoongi looked up at you before eyeing the shops as well. "Here, find a seat and I'll get us something." You nodded, quickly shuffling to find a table, a couch- somewhere to sit. The larger tables were taken already, and the others simply weren't set up yet. After what felt like hours of searching you settled on a small love-seat by the window, still surprised by how little seating was available, despite the very few people actually present. 

You quickly plopped down, the cushion and pillows surprisingly soft under you. Your phone let out a couple of pings, two messages from your friend popping up the second your screen came on.  

U want anythn 2 drink?

Wait ill get u a water

You started to respond before your phone pinged again, a soft snort escaping as you read it.

Holy shit they got th fancy water

The picture attached was slightly blurred, two large bottles of water easily resting in his slender hands, his fingers delicately curled around them. By the small basket in his hand, you assumed he went to the store instead of one of the small restaurants. The basket seemed pretty full, too, at least by blurry image standards.

Bro what'd u get?

You nearly dropped your phone in your eagerness to respond, your eyes fixated on the three dots that popped up immediately after. You were so ready to eat by now you were getting impatient.

U almost done?

The dots vanished, and then started again.

Surprise. Nd yea, in line behind someone lmao What r u hungry or smth

Hell yea bro i havnt eaten all day

A hand on your shoulder suddenly made you jump, a laugh escaping from someone else at the noise you let out. You looked up, flustered. Yoongi was standing there above you, his iconic smile on full display, his eyes smiling with him.

"I'm sorry." He laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you." He plopped down next to you, two large bags in hand. "Ah, you're shaky. I'm so sorry."

His fingers gently slid over your hand, his eyes as soft as his voice as they gently slid in between your own fingers, gripping tightly. "You okay?"

You nodded, gently freeing your hand as you set your phone down next to you. "Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry, I'm fine, you just really got me." You chuckled, looking at the bags he had clutched tightly in his hands.

“What’cha got there?”

He paused, his cheeks pink, eyes wide as he slowly came back from where he seemingly zoned out. He blinked rapidly, the color growing more intense on his cheeks.

"I got us both waters, some chips and cookies, they had sandwiches in there-" He spoke quickly, his words smooth and rhythmic as he pulled everything out one by one. "-I got us a lot. I didn't know what exactly you wanted so I just got different things."

By then a pile had built up on the couch, the lights flickering on as the light outside grew dimmer. The sun had set almost completely by then, leaving only the two of you and another small group left in the room. You were both growing tired, but didn't want to go back upstairs just yet.

The crinkling of various bags filled the room, the laughter from both of you barely drowned out as you both tiredly ate your fill. It was only interrupted as Yoongi let out a soft yawn, your eyes heavy as you looked at him.

"Guess that means we should go to bed. It's dark out anyway." You yawned as well. "Thank you for the food." You grinned. "I'll pay you back."

"No need." He insisted. "I'll walk you to your room then." He picked up the mess you both made, throwing it away before turning to face you as you both headed to the stairwell.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Torn Apart

The injury to my eye was severe and required immediate treatment. My main concern, however, was my daughter Ru’Yi who was still sleeping in my arms despite my moans and tears as I lay against the back of the luxury Buick, staining the fine leather with my wet clothes.

Despite my pain, I still managed to snarl at the driver from the Crane group. “I swear if this is another trap, I will kill all of you in an instant!”

The driver looked into the rearview mirror. “It’s not a trap. Lancelot was a step ahead of our friend Crow. Crow had planned to trap the hunting group on another ship, but this was not the real hunting group with him, but a decoy and that traitor Shinnosuke.”

The driver’s eyes shifted to Chu Zihang and he swallowed. “This is the truth. I am not lying.”

My husband, Chu Zihang, hadn’t said a word since our rescue. He sat stiffly in the back of this vehicle, hand on the hilt of Tongzi, golden eyes fixed on the driver. He sat upright and still, like a serpent prepped to strike, like a bullet in the chamber. At the slightest hint of danger, the driver would be dead and Chu Zihang would allow him to explain himself in the afterlife.

As soon as we reached the hospital, he ushered Ru’Yi and I away. My black trenchcoat, displaying the vibrant Japanese painting style of Ukiyo-e on the lining, branded us as elites of the Japanese underworld and we were given immediate priority by the doctor.

The news wasn’t good. The hot metal had done severe damage to my left eye. They could give me ointment and gauze to see if it healed on its own, but if the eye continued to deteriorate, it would have to be removed.

Johann took Ru’Yi with him while the doctor looked at me.

He returned with three granola bars and a small cup of coffee. I tore open the wrapper and crunched into them, silent. He’d changed into a simple t-shirt and jeans and Ru’Yi was clean, warm, dry and sleeping in a car seat. He watched me eat while I sat on the examination table.

“Lu Mingfei was here with Nono. Nono is in surgery now. They’re still not sure if she’ll make it.” He said.

I looked up, eyes wide, appetite gone. “Where’s Mingfei?”

“The Crane group spotted him at a café. I’ll catch up with him there. And there’s something else. Ru’Yi’s dragonblood awakened on the ship.”

I gasped, readied myself to jump down but Johann stopped me. “What? How do you know?”

“She didn’t react to my eyes, in fact, she stared into them very calmly. Do you know how it happened?” Johann’s eyes had reverted back to their golden color and he was back to wearing his sunglasses.

I thought back, remembering. “Oh... those immortals. They sang the sacred words of Imperium. The Dark Kings Speech.”

“I’ve heard of only one hybrid awakened so young. Code-named Key. Not much is known about him other than the fact that he opened the gate under the Three Gorges Dam when he was about her age.”

“They can use Soul Skills that early?” I was astounded.

He nodded once. “Her soul skill will be revealed once she’s exposed to the right environment. But she won’t be able to control it. It will go off on instinct.”

“Okay...” I let out a breath. 

Zihang reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll get more supplies with Mingfei and we’ll see about getting out of here.”

----------------------------

Mingfei picked me up from the hospital in Crow’s red sports car. He opened the rear passenger door. When he looked into my eyes, neither of us said anything. Lu Mingfei had made good on his promise to bring Chu Zihang back but it had come at a price none of us could have possibly imagined.

There was time pressure to get out of Tokyo, but Lu Mingfei took us back out to the shore, to a long embankment. We got out of the car and walked as far as we could, just above the water.

Police boats were on heavy patrol after the chaos last night but no one cared about three people and a baby standing outside watching the ocean on a warm spring morning.

In the distance, the wreckage of a large ship bobbed in the waves, and somewhere out there, was also the body of a girl.

I looked up at Chu Zihang. The tears rolled down his face in silence.

He was no doubt remembering her.

“Zihang...” I said, quietly. “There’s only so much time to lay awake at night and remember things. Tell me what you want to remember. Between the both of us, we won’t forget. When did you first meet her?”

“On the train.” He said simply. Then he added. “She had a ponytail and dark rimmed glasses. She held her skirt because she was nervous.”

“The enrollment form was complicated. I figured she would need help with it. So I asked her. I found out that her English wasn’t fluent. So I decided to keep helping her, since mine was better.”

“She said she was nervous because she was on a train full of monsters. I said... Here when a monster meets a monster, it’s a relative.”

“After we got off the train, things were chaotic if you didn’t understand where to go. I didn’t know either but I could ask. I told her to wait for me. I would go ask someone. I took too long. By the time I got back, she looked sad like I had left her alone...”

He stopped talking, overcome. His jaw clenched and a soft painful sigh escaped him.

“We sat next to each other in class at times. Sometimes had lunch. She would cheer for me in rowing.”

“She seemed like such a reliable person. When I found the secret of the Blood Rage technique, I couldn’t talk to anyone about it... but I really wanted to.”

“When I saw her reading books in the library, I said to myself. You can tell her. I just gave her my notes. Told her to read it for herself and not tell others.”

“We didn’t discuss it again.”

He looked back up over the waves. “She remembered me in the end. She thanked me. I don’t know for what.” His shoulders lifted.

“She took care of me, while you were gone.” I whispered. “Even when everyone acted like I was crazy... she was always kind to me. She held my hand.”

“We should go.” Zihang abruptly turned away and walked back to the car. Whatever else he was remembering, he wasn’t going to share.

I didn’t follow him. Instead, I turned to Mingfei. “How’s Nono?”

“ICU.” He said roughly. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you guys are alright.”

“We can’t leave her here...” I shook my head.

“We don’t have any choice. The people from the Crane group said that we have a few hours at most before Kaguya goes down. And that was over an hour ago. We have to move now and she can’t be moved now.”

“Who’s going to protect her?” I asked. 

“Caesar. As soon as we can, we get in touch with him. He’s not going to take what they’ve done lightly.”

“Is he on our side?”  I pursed my lips in doubt.

He chuckled, waving his hand and going back to the car. “He’s on his own side.”

Lu Mingfei drove like a mad man through the Tokyo streets. The moment Kaguya was breached, EVA’s electronic tentacles would penetrate all major networks in Japan at the speed of light, whether it was emails, bank accounts, transportation systems, or even customs. All of them would fall under her domain.

The Tokyo Port Authority had clamped down on sea routes and now our best bet was the airport. So long as Kaguya was up, she would cover our trail.

After that? None of us were sure with the exception of Chu Zihang. After we got in the car he looked at Lu Mingfei and said, “They deceived her. And then they killed her.”

For him, the mission was simple: Destroy those behind Susie’s death.

Lu Mingfei slammed on the brakes, throwing me against my seatbelt. bumper to bumper traffic blocked our path. “What’s going on? Is it an accident?”

“It’s a little crazy.”  Lu leaned out the window to see ahead.

We were only a mile from the airport but everything was stopped. “Zihang can you ch-”

“All the lights are red on the expressway.” On the supply run, he’d acquired a smart phone. I wasn’t sure it was wise, but as the president of Lionheart, his hacking and security skills were beyond my comprehension.

“Shit...” Mingfei hissed. “EVA’s early.”

Zihang’s golden eyes shifted like a knife to his throat. “Not around the baby.”

“Sorry... sorry...” He muttered.

“What are we going to do? They’re probably on their way here now!” I said, referring to the new group sent to hunt us down.

“We can’t just run it... we would barely make it in time and then would still have to go through the security checks.”

A few nerve wracking seconds later, the phone rang. It was a car phone. This really was an antique.

We all stared at it, then glanced at each other. Lu Mingfei pressed the answer button but no one spoke.

“Don’t be scared. It’s me.” The caller’s voice was hoarse and sounded very tired.

“Crow!” I exclaimed smiling.

Ru’Yi immediately stirred, her dark eyes blinking open.

“Saeki.. it’s Saeki...” He started coughing.

“Are you okay...?”

“How’s my princess?” 

“She’s alright. She... just woke up.”

“I’m glad you made it, man. You had me worried.” Lu Mingfei sighed. “We’re stuck in traffic. Can you give us a hand?”

“Yeah... and... I’m sorry to say... I didn’t make it, actually. They got me.”

I leaned back, feeling drained and empty with shock. “Oh... no... I told you...” I hung my head looking at little Ru’Yi who was searching the room for her Uncle Crow.

“Fujiwara Shinnosuke,” said Crow. “That guy is from the Gattuso family. I didn’t see that the Gattuso family were against Mrs. Chen. Be careful and kill him when you see him. Don’t give him any leeway. His Soul Skill is Time Zero.”

“Time Zero?” I whispered, head lifting.

“What do you mean against Ms. Chen? You mean, the Gattusos want to kill her?!” Lu Mingfei gripped the steering wheel in horror.

“That’s exactly what I mean...”

“I left her at the hospital! Crow!”

“Got it... got it... I’ll send someone. Meantime, I can see your location. I’ll direct you to a small private airstrip. One of my guys will fly you out.”

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing in the back seat. “Crow...I told you... if you die now, Ru’Yi won’t remember you!”

“I know... But it’s okay. My own dad will forget me too... but don’t you worry. Her being alive, that’s all I care about.”

“I can’t repay you for this.” Zihang said softly.

“No need. It was my pleasure.” He coughed. “Oh Mingfei... I want to leave a phone number for you. Write it down. When you’re stuck again. Call it.”

He quickly scribbled down the number and then banged the steering wheel in helpless fury. He settled his head on it, fighting tears.

“Not far ahead of you, there’s a fork off the highway, take it and keep driving until you see a private driveway. The plane is there.”

Lu Mingfei tilted his head out the window, shouting in Japanese that I was pregnant and in labor and needed to get off the highway.

The cars ahead suddenly shifted to allow us to use the shoulder and take the exit. After getting off, it turned out to be an unmarked service road not shown on the map. The car roared to top speed and soon we saw the private tarmac that was surrounded by a barbed wire fence.

“Yes! Okay, everyone out!”

“Are you still there?” Crow asked.

“Yeah! I’m here!”

“The plane’s blue and white, with the picture of a bird on the tail. Right?”

“Yeah! That’s it... Crow...” Mingfei’s voice choked up. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey... pull it together. Only Carli’s allowed to cry now.” He gave a low groaning cough, his voice growing strained. “The plane’s too small to fly far so you’ll have to make new arrangements when you land. As soon as you get on, he’s authorized to fly without delay. Time’s a bit tight. This is all I can do.”

“It’s more than enough.” He said shakily.

I turned and unbuckled Ru’Yi taking the child seat with me.

“Carli.”

I stopped when Crow addressed me.

“There’s more in the back. Stuff for you.”

I covered my face with my hand. “Crow... I’m going to miss you.” I whimpered. I took a deep breath and slid the rest of the way out of the car with Ru’Yi.

Zihang got out and circled around and gave me a tight all encompassing hug. I buried my tears in his shoulder.

He whispered directly in my ear. “I know you care about Crow. But he’s been compromised too many times and now he’s dead.”

I looked up at him, unsure about what he was saying.

“I’m not going to trust his pilot.” He looked at me directly, his eyes dry.

I stared stunned. He was right. “Can you fly the plane?”

“The model is old. But I’ve flown something like this before. I can do it.” He turned as Mingfei shut the door and tossed the keys in the front seat.

“Yeah?” Mingfei blinked at him.

“I’m flying it.”  Johann strode toward the plane that had lowered it’s stairs.

“Eh? But!”

“Here, help me with Ru’Yi’s things!” I told him. “Hurry!”

In the trunk were more diapers and toys and other things. I had a hard time keeping my composure but managed to only sob once or twice.

By the time we had boarded, Johann had the pilot at sword point. His arms were up and he watched us board with clear and open terror. “Please just... just put the sword down... I’ll get off.”

I settled Ru’Yi’s child carrier in the airplane seat.

“Hey, Zihang, that’s enough...” Mingfei was saying.

I looked up in time to see the man backing away toward the door of the plane, chased by the point of Tongzi. Johann turned to go to the cockpit. 

Mingfei went to shut the door. His eyes widened and a shot rang out. Blood spattered and stained the cheap upholstery.

Chu Zihang was out of the cockpit unnaturally fast, pursuing the pilot. I rushed to the door and knelt next to Mingfei who was on the ground and screaming as if he were being burned alive.

The bullet had entered his arm, just above his elbow, but there was enough blood to suggest a chest wound. The flesh around where the bullet had entered seemed to dissolved and soften.

Zihang returned, Tongzi dripping red on the floor. He took one look at Mingfei and hissed. “He used a Sage Stone bullet! Give me Spider Fang!”

Without a second thought, I handed the sword to him. He drew it, lifted Mingfei’s hand, and severed his arm above the elbow. I howled in horror at the sight as he tossed it away.

“Get the first aid kit, there should be a tourniquet.” He knelt next to him and squeezed his arm, putting full pressure on it. 

I scrambled for the kit and found it in the bright red box and returned. Zihang opened it and found the leather strap and began to tie it tight around his arm. By now, Mingfei had lost enough blood so that he was pale and shaking.

“We’ve got to take off. Get him to use Don’t Die, Meixiu. And after that, use Release to lower his dragon blood purity.”

He pushed past me to the cockpit.

I looked into his eyes. “Mingfei... Mingfei... you have to say it with me. Don’t Die. Don’t Die.”

He moaned, gasping for air. “Erii....”

The plane started to turn and then immediately accelerated.

“Don’t Die... Mingfei say it... Say it... Please...” 

The plane lifted off, tilted up at a high angle of attack, speeding into the air. 

Denial filled me.  If he died, it was over, it was all over. This world would never change. I’d be hunted forever. Ru’Yi would be hunted forever. Her daughter and her daughter after her. “Don’t Die... Don’t Die...!”

I suddenly heard Ru’Yi’s yell. It rang like a bell in my head and I turned, but she was just in her child carrier.

When I looked back, Mingfei’s Soul Skill had taken effect. He was healing. “Yes... Yes!” I swallowed hard. “Release.”

I didn’t want hurt him too much. But Sage stones were more effective the higher ones Dragonblood purity. Mingfei was too weak to even cry out as I forced him from S-ranked hybrid all the way down to B rank. His eyes slid shut and he lay still.

I sat back on my hands, covered in blood. I watched his chest until I saw it rise.

[btsjfans]

Our Song (pt 6)

Summary: School playboy, and jock Jungkook is the last person you’d expect to be a soulful musician, but everybody has their secrets

Jungkook x Reader (fluff, angst, smut next chapter)

a/n: ahhh thank you for all the requests, getting requests and feedback about my stories literally makes my life I love you all so freaking much ALSO SORRY IT TAKES ME LIKE 50 YEARS TO POST OMFG

masterlist

part 1   2   3   4   5 

“Y/n L/n IT IS 2:17AM DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA--” Your mother screams, pacing in the kitchen, while your dad scowls beside her. You sit at the dinner table, numbly listening to their tirade. You’re still half asleep, and tired from earlier. 

You’d fallen asleep at Jungkook’s earlier that night, and woken up when he’d rolled over in his sleep, and flopped on top of you. In the moment it was funny, until you read the clock that glowed “2:10am” in ominous white lettering. 

“JUNGKOOK I-AGDHGDJ” You’d screamed, pushing him off and springing from the bed. He sat up, hair sticking up in all directions as you hopped around his room, desperately tugging your jeans on. 

“What?” His voice was deep and grumbly as he rubbed his eyes and tried to process the situation. His eyes finally settled on the clock, and he gasped and dashed out the door, “MEET ME IN THE CAR!!!” He screamed, scrambling for the keys. 

The two of you hit 70 in a 25, managing to get you home by 2:15, saving about 8 minutes on your usual drive time. You kissed him one more time before getting out of the car, trying to savor one last good moment before you met your bitter end. “I love you forever Y/n,” He smiles, stress evident in his tense body. 

“I love you forever too Jungkook.” You sighed, facing the house, having accepted your impending doom. The second the door had closed behind you, the lights came on and the screaming began.

By 2:45 your parents decided they had enough and sent you swiftly to bed, but not before taking your phone and sentencing you to 2 weeks of being grounded. 

You lied in bed, emotionally drained as you stared at the ceiling. But even then, you couldn’t help but smile. You really did love him. 

From: My Mans :)

Saturday, 2:30am

Y/n??

Y/n is everything okay???

Im so sorry 

I really am I didnt mean for time to get away from us like that

Ughhhhhh Y/n please dont be mad

Please dont be mad

Ok uhhhh text me tomorrow ig. I love you

Sunday, 10:11am

Y/n really Im getting worried

Pls tell me this is a prank? AHAHAh im laughing

2:45pm

I showed you my dick pls reply

Y/N 

4:41pm

goddddd

Y/n i really love youuuuu

Knock knock

Whos there?

NOT YOU APPARENTLY SJHDGSJFAHKSAHJ

6:18pm

ok so

I guess youre mad?

Annnnd idk what I did so I cant say sorry

BUT if you tell me what I did wrong I can apologize

sooooo

uGAUKHSFGHJ Y/N

See 216 More Messages?

You grin scrolling through your messages. It was 7:45am on a monday, and you’d just gotten your phone back. You’d spent the weekend without electronics, and with plenty of housework. You still had two weeks of house arrest, but you would get to see your friends at school, and keep your phone, so things were already looking up. Your parents didn’t know you lost your v-card, so they didn’t really have anything against Jungkook except for him keeping you out too late. 

To: My Mans :)

7:48- Come get meeeeee :P

Within 2 minutes of sending that text Jungkook replies, making you laugh.

From: My Mans :)

7:56- Oh my god are you kidding me I text you all day every day all weekend and this is all I get back? No heartfelt message? Am I just a rockin bod and a cool car to you? Damn, you thotties really be cold

7:57- Omw

“What the fuuuuck,” Jungkook whines pulling you in by the hips and kissing you, pressing you against him. 

“Sorry, my parents took my phone.” You grin, ruffling his hair and getting in the car. 

“God I thought I was bad in bed or something, you really did a number on my insecurity this weekend,” He grins, taking the car out of park. 

Walking through school felt different now. You felt dirty and exposed. You felt like everybody knew what you did that weekend. Walking down the halls hand in hand with Jungkook, you usually got some stares, but now it felt like all eyes were on you. Jungkook seemed fine, unbothered even. As he should of course, and as you should too. You just couldn’t shake that unsettled feeling though. 

Eventually that feeling left, and a feeling of pride took its place. You were his girl, the person he decided was worthy enough to be his first. Telling your friends really gassed you up. 

“Y/N YOU WHAT?!” Lisa was screaming. You guys were between classes and you couldn’t really think of a good time to tell them, so you figured now was as good as any. “You got dicked down? Like all the way down?!” Lisa whispered, eyes wide.  “Yeah! Do you guys hate me?” You grin nervously.

“No! Just don’t ditch us for booty calls,” Jisoo grins and nudges you. The three of you laugh while you give them details as you walk to your next class. You’re caught up in the story before somebody runs into you, jolting you from your thoughts. You look back in annoyance to see who the perpetrator was. Mark Tuan just hurries off, ignoring you. “Hey, ignore him. You’re Jeon Jungkook’s squeeze now, we have more important things to think about.” Jisoo laughs, grabbing your arm and tugging you down the hallway.

Mark

Jungkook was still a part of our group I guess. Bam and Taehyung jumped on the chance to talk to him again after things had been tense the last few weeks. Jungkook texted them and asked if we could all hang after lacrosse, so of course that meant I had to wait after school til 5 for them. 

Roaming the empty halls I scroll through instagram, trying to occupy my headspace. I really had been enjoying my guy time recently, but I can’t lie, I do miss my time with Y/n. After school hot chocolate and homework had become a fixture in my life, like she had been. It felt like there was a big empty hole where she used to be, in my house and in my head. 

“Mr. Tuan,” Mr. Atkinson’s voice rips me from  my thoughts. 

“Yes sir?” I turn, pocketing my phone.

“Wanna take a walk?” Atkinson approaches, not really giving me a choice. We both walk in silence for a minute or so, our footsteps echoing down the halls. “Have you been alright recently? You and Y/n don’t talk anymore, and you’ve fallen in with a..lesser crowd.” His voice is light, but I can hear the more serious tone beneath.

“Yeah, people just..grow apart.” I shrug, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Yeah but you and y/n didn’t. Or at least she didn’t. I know there’s more. Now, I don’t expect you wanting to talk to your washed up teacher about your personal life, but you should talk to her. Or someone.” He’s right. I sigh, nodding. 

“What do I say?” My voice is quiet, ashamed.

“It never hurts to start with sorry.” 

You lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone on a break from homework. Your break had already taken 2 hours, oops. Suddenly a picture of Mark doing a double chin fills up your home screen while your phone buzzes, signaling a call from your old friend. It had been a hot minute since you’d gotten a call from him; it had been a hot minute since you’d gotten any kind of formality from him in general. 

“Hello?” You slowly hit the green button.

“I’m sorry Y/n. Can we talk?”

[colesbarbeque]

🥇🍖Top 10 Best Gas Grills Under $500 in 2020

Below is the Best Gas Grills Under $500: you can rack up a grill that is ultimately going to cook a completely seared, succulent steak uniformly and with the best sear

Frankly, your barbecue will certainly smell so excellent your neighbors are going to be oppressing your door needing to know what is food preparation and also if they can come join you.

This might be excellent or poor, depending upon how much you like your neighbors. But definitely a good idea if you are major concerning enjoying your barbecuing experience as high as the meat coming off your grill at dish time.

So what do you get for $500?

For one, you should expect extra barbecuing area. You can cook for the entire household with room to save. An entire rack of ribs is mosting likely to be a breeze. And also I am HUGE rib freak, so if you resemble me, you know that additional area is vital.

You should also expect to see fast and even heating. With a larger spending plan, all of the essential functions need to perform completely.

I have actually put together a list of my leading choices, investigated extensively for this cost variety, any one of which will seriously transform your exterior food preparation experience from a need to an entertainment task. I’ll damage down the leading functions AND quibble any disadvantages that you ought to understand about previously buying.

There are some wonderful competitors below as well as an option for every single griller.

The Best Gas Grills Under $500

Weber Spirit II E-310 Black LP Outdoor Gas Grill B077JTCMKQ

The original Spirit is the first grill I ever before bought and also I was surprised by the hallmark Weber food preparation experience supplied in a smaller package.

The Spirit II 310 is a more recent, updated version of the original that provides an also higher-level experience, with three marvelous burners.

With the E310, Weber took the top, core functions of their biggest grills and engineered them to fit in a cool, mid-size variation that still loads a power punch. The Spirit delivers 30,000 BTUs with 529 square inches of cooking area, giving strong, even heat to fully.

Weber included their brand-new Gs4 cooking system, with three heaters, each supported by stainless steel, top-notch tubes. These tubes aren’t your typical heater tubes. They will not corrosion rapidly, or damage easy as well as leakage gas. They remain in reality, particularly created to be resilient and they actively limit the results of corrosion agents.

Despite just 3 burners, the Weber actually feels like a large outside cooking area. It comes with generously sized drop down tables on both sides (more space to design food) that fold down for very easy storage. Both tables are furnished with 3 durable hooks to hang your tools (pans, spatulas, knives, etc.).

You can likewise expect to delight in Weber’s unique Flavorizer bar system, porcelain covered actors iron food preparation grates (developed for fast cleaning), and also the brand-new infinity digital ignition system.

What actually indicates that this is a Weber grill is how uniformly it chefs and how promptly. I’ve used the Spirit to prepare nearly any kind of kind of meat you can think of: steaks, hamburgers, pet dogs, ribs, chicken breasts, chops, etc. It cooks every one of them equally (no arbitrary cool places) and also provides an awesome sear. Heat time is quick, usually 10 minutes, tops.

The E310 does not come outfitted with a side heater. You’ll need to upgrade to the Genesis for that. While I occasionally like to use one, it’s not a deal breaker as well as is a beautiful small. If your main problems are quality as well as spending plan, after that this shouldn’t be a significant deterrent for you and also for the under $500 barbecue grill area, this is the very best on the market.

Char-Broil Classic 360 3-Burner Liquid Gas Barbecue Grill B01HITNEEE

Pros

Affordable

Small footprint

Easy to construct and also use

Cons

Does not come with a temperature gauge

Gas grills have a tendency to be more expensive than their charcoal counterparts, however this one won’t damage the budget. It does not have a few of the bells as well as whistles you’ll discover on much more pricey designs, yet it still does a wonderful work barbecuing steaks and also burgers, with a lot of room for extra. Due to the fact that it’s not big, many reviewers who live in smaller spaces like that it’s very easy to move, yet still provides enough space to preparation as well as cook food for a tiny event. It offers 360 square inches of key cooking area on the porcelain-coated grates along with 170 square inches on the convenient swing-away warming up rack that can keep finished foods at serving temperature level.

This grill has 3 burners that offer a total amount of 30,000 BTUs of cooking power for wonderful searing or low-and-slow cooking for ideal barbecue ribs. 2 metal side racks are handy for holding sauces as well as plates, while the two wheels make it simple to relocate the grill right into the ideal location for grilling.

Char-Broil Performance Barbecue Grill B07JZV24HV

This Char-Broil Performance Barbecue grill carries out quite possibly with its four burners and large food preparation surface. You can rest assure that heat will certainly be equally distributed with this grill’s stainless-steel warmth tents. The device contains racks on each side, one for meal prep and also the various other with a heater constructed in to include additional cooking area.

Pros

Drip tray is comfortably located and can be gotten rid of for easy clean up Electronic ignition system supplies quick and reputable startups at the press of a switch Customers state that it is very easy to manage the temperature level while cooking using the temperature gauge constructed right into the lid of the grill

Cons

Some consumers have actually complained that this system might be difficult to put together It is feasible that the oil trap will fill with water when it rains

General Smokey Steak Cattle Ranch Evaluation

The Char-Broil Efficiency Gas Grill is a lp barbecue grill that provides an incredible worth for your spending plan. We at Smokey Steak Ranch believe this grill to be one of the best lp gas grills for under $500 on the marketplace. Supplying a piece de resistance for around $300, this grill makes certain to deal with any dish that you toss at it.

Ideal Tabletop: Char-Broil Portable Gas Grill

Pros

Mobile

Warms equally

Considerable cooking space for its size

Cons

Requirements to be propped up to make room for gas cylinder

Little adequate to fit on a table for cooking or in the trunk of the cars and truck for easy transportation, this portable barbecue grill is wonderful for anybody that does not have room for a full-size grill, or that wants to take their grill on the road– whether it’s a tailgate event, a barbecue, or simply an additional grill for a celebration. Customers who go camping often provide the grill high marks for its portable profile and also exactly how promptly as well as equally it chefs. Despite having the small profile, this has 190 square inches of cooking area on the porcelain-coated cable grill rack, and 11,000 BTUs of cooking power, so it’s obtained space as well as power for food preparation steaks or hamburgers for supper.

When it’s time to travel, the legs fold up and hold the lid in position, so it won’t unintentionally open and also spill its components. This grill is created to collaborate with the little 1-pound propane containers that are ideal for travel. Nevertheless, for home use, a hose as well as adapter are available that can transform it for use with the bigger 20-pound lp containers.

Monolith Grills 4-Burner B071ZTLXPQ

Monument Lane’s stainless-steel grills offer a tidy, dazzling steel package. The gas tank is confined within storage space doors. Behind the grill, there’s accessibility to a porcelain-coated oil frying pan that can easily be taken out. Hooks on both sides allow separate storage space for cleaning and food preparation tools. Unlike various other gas grills under $500, this model has 4 securing wheels. It’s also easy to construct, an oft ignored possession in the age of challenging DIY settings up. There are four primary burners, a side-burner and a ceramic sear heater. The controls handles have LED lights for nighttime grilling– a thoughtful touch. The primary grill is porcelain-coated actors iron with 500 square inches of straight food preparation location. There is an indirect cooking shelf (frequently described as a warming shelf, though things there still cook). Ignition is an easy, pilotless push button.

Char-Broil TRU Infrared Urban Gas Grill B002M9IZW2

The Char-Broil Urban Barbecue Grill is an exceptional mid sized grill with an unique cooking system and several helpful functions.

This is a terrific grill for smaller patios or houses. It provides large food preparation location with side tables that fold up down, so you don’t need a lot of room to store it. Though it needs little storage room, it does not endanger on lack of functions. You still obtain the benefit of a warming shelf and also folding side shelves, along with top quality stainless-steel building and construction.

The most unique feature of the Char-Broil Urban version is its TRU infrared coking system. Unlike the other grills on our list that use convection food preparation (where the flame heats up the grates) the infrared system uses flames to heat an infrared aspect, creating induction heat that secures juices as well as flavor. The infrared system additionally helps reduce gas usage, preserves also cooking temperature levels across all food preparation grates, and removes locations as well as flare-ups typical on conventional grills.

The majority of grills provide temperature evaluates in the hood, far from the food preparation surface. This can result in incorrect temperature analyses and overcooked food. As an included benefit, the Char-Broil Urban includes surface degree temperature level gauges that allow you monitor the temperature level on the heaters, where the food actually chefs.

If you desire a mid sized grill with infrared cooking modern technology and lots of functions, the Char-Broil Urban is a superb selection.

Special Features.

TRU infrared food preparation system.

Porcelain covered warming up rack.

Porcelain covered cast iron food preparation grates.

Stainless steel burners.

Fold away side shelves.

Surface area degree temperature level assesses.

Blackstone Apartment Top Barbecue Grill Frying Pan Terminal- 4-burner- Gas-Fueled B078HFRNPQ.

Enjoy grilling with the brand-new improved Blackstone gas frying pan that has big side racks and a huge barbecuing surface to cook different kinds of food at the same time by utilizing the 4 flexible warm areas. Enjoy stir-fry dishes, steak, chicken, fish and shellfish or veggies with the gorgeous layout.

This grill makes up a modern-day grease management system, and a side rack that can act as a reducing board, 4 wheel wheels in which two of the wheels can be locked for security, a rapid ignition system with 4 adjustable control zone.

Top attributes.

The new style includes a side rack that can be utilized as a detachable reducing board, mobile paper towel owner, a hook that can sustain a trash bag and the contemporary oil monitoring system. The huge food preparation surface of 720sq inches of flat leading grilling with an outstanding griddle for making morning meal, lunch, and supper. Use the switch to turn on the ignition and experience a quick as well as dependable grilling with the 60,000 BTU heat heaters. Made with stainless steel heaters and thick rolled steel cooktop with 4 caster wheels. It can be made use of for outdoor camping or yard cooking; folding legs as well as removable frying pan top..

Best Infrared: Char-Broil Trademark TRU-Infrared 420 3-Burner Closet Liquid Propane Gas Grill B016ZIBBIK.

Pros:

Porcelain-coated cast iron grates.

Top notch stainless steel infrared plates.

Cons

Assembly can spend some time.

This revamped Char-Broil Infrared is more than just an aesthetic remedy. While still utilizing the infrared modern technology that Char-Broil certified a years back, this grill stands for a serious rethink of the gas grill. Gone are the unpleasant stainless-steel cooking grates that struggled to generate sear marks. Now this grill makes use of a larger porcelain-coated actors iron grate that holds as well as transfers warmth far more successfully. The pointless burner temperature level determines are gone also and the infrared emitter is stronger and also constructed from a far better class of stainless-steel. Several reviewers rave about the last function, claiming that, in their experience, the infrared plates aid disperse warm evenly as well as almost remove cold and hot areas..

Best Tiny: Broil King Signet 320 Cast-Aluminum 3 Burner Liquid Propane Barbecue Grill B0179IK1DQ.

Pros.

One-of-a-kind dual-tube stainless steel burners.

Long lasting building.

Hefty food preparation grates.

Cons

Thin cast-aluminum cover and body.

Can’t be converted between LP and also gas.

Sometimes, you require a grill that can supply just the correct amount of space without taking up an entire outdoor patio. While we might all dream of having that huge yard to host large BBQ celebrations, that isn’t always a reasonable dream. Luckily, you don’t need to surrender on a fantastic grilling experience or the ability to charm visitors with your barbecuing skills. The right mid-sized grill is the ideal alternative for smaller sized yards and also outdoor patios when you wish to grill without limits.

This 3-burner grill from Broil King offers whatever you need in one affordable package. The dual-tube heater layout impressed our tester: The inner tube distributes gas throughout the external tube that then supplies a real, also flow of gas; simply an incredible style, he goes crazy. Moreover, the hefty actors iron cooking grates give exceptional warm transfer.

And also, the firebox layout keeps in warmth for functional food preparation capacities. This grill is an amazing worth for anybody that intends to cook outdoors right here but does not have room for an additional large-sized grill. The 400-square-inch food preparation area is plenty for entertaining a couple of guests plus the 40,000 BTUs indicate this grill is extremely reliable and also generating the temperature levels you need for your cookout food. Plus, side racks make saving your devices and utensils a wind..

source https://colesbarbeque.com/best-gas-grills-under-500/

[jonathanbelloblog]

Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers?

There are few automotive experiences more enjoyable than driving a rear-wheel-drive sports car in the snow. As I write this, it’s minus seven degrees Fahrenheit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I just drove my 2017 Toyota 86 to the office in a proper blizzard. The automatic climate control wasn’t working for the very good reason that my small sports car doesn’t have automatic climate control. I adjusted the fan speed, temperature, and air distribution by twisting a trio of clearly labeled knobs. I quickly turned off the traction and stability control by pressing a clearly labeled button, which helped the winter-tire-equipped Toyota maintain momentum through small snow drifts and yet-to-be-plowed intersections. I’m always fully aware of, involved with, and connected with my 86 at all times during slippery and challenging journeys like these, but it was clear by looking at other motorists that I was a rare exception to the norm. It seems technology is making most of us worse drivers, and even less informed about the equipment and capability of our vehicles.

Let’s start with illumination. My Toyota features the near-universal luxury of automatic headlights, but I’m well aware that they only activate in low-light situations, so I don’t rely on the handy automated feature. Yet most drivers do just that, never touching the knob or switch once they drive away from the dealership, and many have zero understanding of the importance of headlights when buckets of snow (or rain) are falling from the sky. Headlamps aren’t just about lighting the path ahead so you can see where you’re going. They’re also there so others can see your vehicle. If the weather isn’t fully clear, turn on your headlights, manually. Doing so not only activates the headlights, but it also turns on the taillights. Remember, daytime running lights don’t illuminate the rear of your vehicle.

As I passed several unlit automotive phantoms—and not the Rolls-Royce kind—haunting the local roads on my way to work, I also spotted more than a few cars stuck in snowy intersections and driveways. Yes, there was a solid few inches on the ground and many Michigan drivers either neglect to or can’t afford to fit winter tires, but there wasn’t that much snow. I noticed one particular current-generation Ford Focus stopped dead in its tracks. As the driver attempted to extract the sedan by rocking the vehicle, the front tires were barely turning. This driver didn’t understand that traction control can cause and/or exacerbate certain vehicle-disabling situations like the one they were in. It doesn’t help that in that in non-RS, non-ST Focus models the ability to disable the wheelspin-killing feature is buried in a digital menu. This approach seems to be growing in popularity on newer automobiles, which is a shame. In four-season locales, being able to quickly defeat the electronic safety nets can at times be as crucial to safety as having them on while on the move.

Stability control exists in the same technological realm, but where traction control is essentially only meant to reduce wheelspin, stability control’s purpose is to keep your car on its intended driving line. I love this skid-reducing feature and support it being standard on all automobiles, but I also feel it generally makes us worse drivers. The safety feature has kept countless drivers out of ditches—or worse—but it also means many people are no longer learning how to correctly control a slide, instead trusting the computers to sort things out. And it may even be filling chiropractors’ pocketbooks. I spotted many neck-snapping stability-control events during the snowstorm, with ham-fisted steering inputs causing head-tossing tank slappers, the vehicles clumsily wagging back and forth as human arm movements battled computerized control. Smooth, intuitive inputs are key to good, safe driving in almost every situation, but the need for them is magnified in low-traction situations.

Technology can also be an impediment when the snow melts and roads dry. The latest infotainment features and other technologies give drivers even more reasons to not pay attention; while receiving text-message alerts via the infotainment system is a better option than directly using your smartphone, it’s still very distracting. Radar cruise control allows drivers to make far fewer manual adjustments of their speed on the freeway, reducing fatigue—a good thing—but many seem to then dwell in the left lane. These folks amble along instead of actually paying attention and helping everyone on the road by getting out of the way.

Which brings me to fully autonomous automobiles. I’m an old-school, manual-transmission-loving car guy but I’m also fully supportive of automated transportation. I like the idea of shutting all the computerized systems off when I want to have fun and be fully involved with driving but also having the option to flip a switch and let my car do 100 percent of the work when I don’t want to. But we are many, many years away from that reality, and it’s the intermediate technologies on the way to automation that concern me. Until we get to the point where you can grab a pillow and take a nap on the way home from the office, put your phone away, manually turn on your headlights, learn how to smoothly control a slide, and turn off your traction control when it makes sense to do so. And most important, pay attention and be fully involved with driving your vehicle each and every time you get behind the wheel—no matter the weather or what driver-assistance features your vehicle has. Heck, you might just enjoy yourself.

The post Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers? appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[jesusvasser]

Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers?

There are few automotive experiences more enjoyable than driving a rear-wheel-drive sports car in the snow. As I write this, it’s minus seven degrees Fahrenheit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I just drove my 2017 Toyota 86 to the office in a proper blizzard. The automatic climate control wasn’t working for the very good reason that my small sports car doesn’t have automatic climate control. I adjusted the fan speed, temperature, and air distribution by twisting a trio of clearly labeled knobs. I quickly turned off the traction and stability control by pressing a clearly labeled button, which helped the winter-tire-equipped Toyota maintain momentum through small snow drifts and yet-to-be-plowed intersections. I’m always fully aware of, involved with, and connected with my 86 at all times during slippery and challenging journeys like these, but it was clear by looking at other motorists that I was a rare exception to the norm. It seems technology is making most of us worse drivers, and even less informed about the equipment and capability of our vehicles.

Let’s start with illumination. My Toyota features the near-universal luxury of automatic headlights, but I’m well aware that they only activate in low-light situations, so I don’t rely on the handy automated feature. Yet most drivers do just that, never touching the knob or switch once they drive away from the dealership, and many have zero understanding of the importance of headlights when buckets of snow (or rain) are falling from the sky. Headlamps aren’t just about lighting the path ahead so you can see where you’re going. They’re also there so others can see your vehicle. If the weather isn’t fully clear, turn on your headlights, manually. Doing so not only activates the headlights, but it also turns on the taillights. Remember, daytime running lights don’t illuminate the rear of your vehicle.

As I passed several unlit automotive phantoms—and not the Rolls-Royce kind—haunting the local roads on my way to work, I also spotted more than a few cars stuck in snowy intersections and driveways. Yes, there was a solid few inches on the ground and many Michigan drivers either neglect to or can’t afford to fit winter tires, but there wasn’t that much snow. I noticed one particular current-generation Ford Focus stopped dead in its tracks. As the driver attempted to extract the sedan by rocking the vehicle, the front tires were barely turning. This driver didn’t understand that traction control can cause and/or exacerbate certain vehicle-disabling situations like the one they were in. It doesn’t help that in that in non-RS, non-ST Focus models the ability to disable the wheelspin-killing feature is buried in a digital menu. This approach seems to be growing in popularity on newer automobiles, which is a shame. In four-season locales, being able to quickly defeat the electronic safety nets can at times be as crucial to safety as having them on while on the move.

Stability control exists in the same technological realm, but where traction control is essentially only meant to reduce wheelspin, stability control’s purpose is to keep your car on its intended driving line. I love this skid-reducing feature and support it being standard on all automobiles, but I also feel it generally makes us worse drivers. The safety feature has kept countless drivers out of ditches—or worse—but it also means many people are no longer learning how to correctly control a slide, instead trusting the computers to sort things out. And it may even be filling chiropractors’ pocketbooks. I spotted many neck-snapping stability-control events during the snowstorm, with ham-fisted steering inputs causing head-tossing tank slappers, the vehicles clumsily wagging back and forth as human arm movements battled computerized control. Smooth, intuitive inputs are key to good, safe driving in almost every situation, but the need for them is magnified in low-traction situations.

Technology can also be an impediment when the snow melts and roads dry. The latest infotainment features and other technologies give drivers even more reasons to not pay attention; while receiving text-message alerts via the infotainment system is a better option than directly using your smartphone, it’s still very distracting. Radar cruise control allows drivers to make far fewer manual adjustments of their speed on the freeway, reducing fatigue—a good thing—but many seem to then dwell in the left lane. These folks amble along instead of actually paying attention and helping everyone on the road by getting out of the way.

Which brings me to fully autonomous automobiles. I’m an old-school, manual-transmission-loving car guy but I’m also fully supportive of automated transportation. I like the idea of shutting all the computerized systems off when I want to have fun and be fully involved with driving but also having the option to flip a switch and let my car do 100 percent of the work when I don’t want to. But we are many, many years away from that reality, and it’s the intermediate technologies on the way to automation that concern me. Until we get to the point where you can grab a pillow and take a nap on the way home from the office, put your phone away, manually turn on your headlights, learn how to smoothly control a slide, and turn off your traction control when it makes sense to do so. And most important, pay attention and be fully involved with driving your vehicle each and every time you get behind the wheel—no matter the weather or what driver-assistance features your vehicle has. Heck, you might just enjoy yourself.

The post Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers? appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 https://ift.tt/2VUW9Wm via IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers?

There are few automotive experiences more enjoyable than driving a rear-wheel-drive sports car in the snow. As I write this, it’s minus seven degrees Fahrenheit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I just drove my 2017 Toyota 86 to the office in a proper blizzard. The automatic climate control wasn’t working for the very good reason that my small sports car doesn’t have automatic climate control. I adjusted the fan speed, temperature, and air distribution by twisting a trio of clearly labeled knobs. I quickly turned off the traction and stability control by pressing a clearly labeled button, which helped the winter-tire-equipped Toyota maintain momentum through small snow drifts and yet-to-be-plowed intersections. I’m always fully aware of, involved with, and connected with my 86 at all times during slippery and challenging journeys like these, but it was clear by looking at other motorists that I was a rare exception to the norm. It seems technology is making most of us worse drivers, and even less informed about the equipment and capability of our vehicles.

Let’s start with illumination. My Toyota features the near-universal luxury of automatic headlights, but I’m well aware that they only activate in low-light situations, so I don’t rely on the handy automated feature. Yet most drivers do just that, never touching the knob or switch once they drive away from the dealership, and many have zero understanding of the importance of headlights when buckets of snow (or rain) are falling from the sky. Headlamps aren’t just about lighting the path ahead so you can see where you’re going. They’re also there so others can see your vehicle. If the weather isn’t fully clear, turn on your headlights, manually. Doing so not only activates the headlights, but it also turns on the taillights. Remember, daytime running lights don’t illuminate the rear of your vehicle.

As I passed several unlit automotive phantoms—and not the Rolls-Royce kind—haunting the local roads on my way to work, I also spotted more than a few cars stuck in snowy intersections and driveways. Yes, there was a solid few inches on the ground and many Michigan drivers either neglect to or can’t afford to fit winter tires, but there wasn’t that much snow. I noticed one particular current-generation Ford Focus stopped dead in its tracks. As the driver attempted to extract the sedan by rocking the vehicle, the front tires were barely turning. This driver didn’t understand that traction control can cause and/or exacerbate certain vehicle-disabling situations like the one they were in. It doesn’t help that in that in non-RS, non-ST Focus models the ability to disable the wheelspin-killing feature is buried in a digital menu. This approach seems to be growing in popularity on newer automobiles, which is a shame. In four-season locales, being able to quickly defeat the electronic safety nets can at times be as crucial to safety as having them on while on the move.

Stability control exists in the same technological realm, but where traction control is essentially only meant to reduce wheelspin, stability control’s purpose is to keep your car on its intended driving line. I love this skid-reducing feature and support it being standard on all automobiles, but I also feel it generally makes us worse drivers. The safety feature has kept countless drivers out of ditches—or worse—but it also means many people are no longer learning how to correctly control a slide, instead trusting the computers to sort things out. And it may even be filling chiropractors’ pocketbooks. I spotted many neck-snapping stability-control events during the snowstorm, with ham-fisted steering inputs causing head-tossing tank slappers, the vehicles clumsily wagging back and forth as human arm movements battled computerized control. Smooth, intuitive inputs are key to good, safe driving in almost every situation, but the need for them is magnified in low-traction situations.

Technology can also be an impediment when the snow melts and roads dry. The latest infotainment features and other technologies give drivers even more reasons to not pay attention; while receiving text-message alerts via the infotainment system is a better option than directly using your smartphone, it’s still very distracting. Radar cruise control allows drivers to make far fewer manual adjustments of their speed on the freeway, reducing fatigue—a good thing—but many seem to then dwell in the left lane. These folks amble along instead of actually paying attention and helping everyone on the road by getting out of the way.

Which brings me to fully autonomous automobiles. I’m an old-school, manual-transmission-loving car guy but I’m also fully supportive of automated transportation. I like the idea of shutting all the computerized systems off when I want to have fun and be fully involved with driving but also having the option to flip a switch and let my car do 100 percent of the work when I don’t want to. But we are many, many years away from that reality, and it’s the intermediate technologies on the way to automation that concern me. Until we get to the point where you can grab a pillow and take a nap on the way home from the office, put your phone away, manually turn on your headlights, learn how to smoothly control a slide, and turn off your traction control when it makes sense to do so. And most important, pay attention and be fully involved with driving your vehicle each and every time you get behind the wheel—no matter the weather or what driver-assistance features your vehicle has. Heck, you might just enjoy yourself.

The post Is Technology Making Us Better or Worse Drivers? appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/first-drive-2017-ram-power-wagon/

First Drive: 2017 Ram Power Wagon

LAS VEGAS, Nevada — My brain kept telling itself “7,000-pound trucks shouldn’t be able to do that” as it witnessed yet another 2017 Ram Power Wagon scamper up a series of steep, rocky hillsides at Nevada’s Valley of Fire State Park with the poise and confidence of a (very fat) mountain goat.

Were this most any other truck, my brain would have been right: 20-foot-long, full-size trucks that weigh as much as the Power Wagon should not, in fact, able to do that. Especially with random automotive journalists behind the wheel, some of whom had never so much as seen a trail let alone wheeled up one before. But the Ram 2500-based Power Wagon is far from most trucks, and every last one of them made it up the fairly challenging rock path unscathed.

For starters, most trucks don’t come from the factory wearing 17-inch wheels with 33-inch Goodyear Wrangler Duratrac tires. The Jeep fanatics over at our sister publication JP Magazine put more than 12,000 miles on a set and found the Duratracs to be great “for a daily-driven weekend warrior” — a description that fits the Power Wagon to a tee. During our drive, traction issues only came up on a particularly soft and sandy uphill, where carrying enough speed going into the hill matters more than having the right tire. Road noise that can mistake your truck for an attacking German Stuka dive-bomber at freeway speeds is often a tradeoff one must make when adding capable off-road tires, but the Power Wagon’s Goodyears proved luxury car-quiet during our on-road drive.

Ram left the regular 2500’s twin-piston 14.2-inch front and 14.1-inch rear brakes alone for the Power Wagon, but they’re about the only bit between the body and the ground that wasn’t updated in some form. In place of the standard Ram’s solid front and rear anti-roll bars are electronically disconnecting units, dubbed the “Smart Bar,” that can be disconnected with the push of a button in 4HI and 4LO at speeds of up to 18 mph. The Smart Bars provide the truck with extra articulation (up to 26 inches of it) while crawling off-road without sacrificing on-road stability.

Also contributing to the Power Wagon’s articulation capabilities is Ram’s so-called “Articulink,” which is an extra bushing in the front control arm that gives the solid front axle the ability to twist more over uneven terrain. The Power Wagon keeps the standard 9.25-in front axle, but its rear axle, measuring 11.5-in, is an inch thicker. The rear also receives stronger rear axle shafts, which measure 38 millimeters in diameter.

Keeping the axles attached to the Power Wagon’s body is a unique suspension consisting of a set of Bilstein shocks and revised coil springs that provide 2.3-inches of lift over stock. As a result, the Power Wagon boasts pretty impressive approach, departure, and breakover angles of 33.6, 26.2, and 23.5 degrees, respectively.

The retention of the coil spring rear setup ensured that the Power Wagon kept the Ram’s smooth on-road behavior that all but eliminates freeway hop, but the extra demands on the suspension reduce the truck’s work ability to that of a light duty truck. Maximum payload is limited to 1,510 pounds while towing capacity drops to 10,030 pounds — still more than plenty for a pair of dirt bikes in the bed and a toy hauler on the hitch.

In the middle of each axle is an electronically locking differential, with the front locker an industry exclusive (at least until the launch of the Chevrolet Colorado ZR2). Without these lockers, which are operated with a simple dial on the center stack, the Power Wagon would just spin its loose wheels instead of making it up imbalanced rocky trails or sandy paths with the power of the planted ones, as an unlocked differential would send all power to the wheel that offers no resistance.

Sitting between the axles is the second-to-last key ingredient in the Power Wagon formula, the Borg-Warner BW 44-47 manual transfer case, which is operated the old fashioned way with a lever in the floor. In addition to switching modes between 2WD, 4HI, and 4LO, the transfer case works with the six-speed automatic and 6.4-liter Hemi V-8 to enable the Power Wagon’s Hill-descent control (HDC) system. HDC works only in 4LO and is controlled via the shift buttons on the gearshift lever, each press adding or subtracting 0.6 mph of speed. It worked exactly as promised when it was time to head down a steep hill and never made us feel like gravity was about to take matters into its own hands.

The experience was similarly comfortable on the way up the hill, with the eight-cylinder’s plentiful low-end torque — output peaks at 410 hp and 429 lb-ft of torque, more than enough for road duty — keeping things moving steady as we climbed up the steep, sandy incline.

Last but certainly not least is the integrated Warn winch. Rated to pull 12,000 pounds, fitted with a 125-foot cable, and bolted directly to the frame, the Power Wagon’s winch will surely prove to be a useful tool for any frequent off-roader. Given the Power Wagon’s capabilities, it will most likely be used to rescue another wheeler, as was demonstrated to us with the aid of an exo-cage-equipped Toyota 4Runner. There’s always the chance you’ll turn a wheel wrong and will need to pull yourself out using a tree or another rig as an anchor. Getting a Power Wagon stuck may be no easy feat, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.

The only downside to the winch? It’s part of the reason why the Power Wagon is not available with the 6.7-liter Cummins diesel I-6. There simply isn’t enough space behind the bumper for the diesel and its hardware with the winch in place. Alas.

All of this capability has been on offer since the current generation Power Wagon arrived in 2014 as all changes for 2017 are purely cosmetic. On the outside, these consist of a new grille that imitates the Ram 1500 Rebel’s, powdercoated front and rear bumpers, 1979 Dodge Macho Power Wagon-inspired side decals, and a 324-point font “Ram” badge on the tailgate accompanied by a large “Power Wagon” graphic. Inside, the seats receive Power Wagon logos on the bolsters and headrests and some different color combinations. It’s a mild freshening but give credit where credit is due, the 2017 Power Wagon does look significantly cooler than the 2014-2016 variant.

Given the myriad updates to the Power Wagon, you might be asking: “What’s the catch?” Well, thanks to advances in modern technology, there really isn’t one except the financial one. Today’s trucks are more comfortable and luxurious than ever before, so no creature comforts have to be sacrificed in the name of capability, but they also happen to be fairly expensive.

The 2017 Ram Power Wagon starts at $53,015. With the $4,995 “Leather and Luxury Group” option checked, the Power Wagon is no less luxurious than a Ram 2500 Laramie, receiving leather seats, a nine-speaker Alpine stereo, 8.4-inch Uconnect screen, heated front seats, and more. The Power Wagon can (and should) also be had with the Rambox for an extra $1,295, although with all the optional goods tacked on you’re looking at close to a $60,000 truck.

Those interested in just the off-road bits can order a Ram 2500 Tradesman 4×4 with the $7,950 “Power Wagon Package,” so long as they select the crew cab and short box — the only configuration the Power Wagon is offered in. The package also adds another $500 for the 6.4-liter engine option, bringing the Tradesman Power Wagon’s tag to $48,315 — still a bit pricey, but a decent discount over the full blown Power Wagon.

Regardless of how you decide to option up your Power Wagon, you’ll get a truck that you’ll be more than happy to use as weekday conveyance while you plan out your next off-road adventure knowing that you have one of the most capable factory rock-crawlers on the market. At least until the Jeep Wrangler pickup arrives.

2017 Ram Power Wagon Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $53,015 (base) ENGINE 6.4L OHV 16-valve V-8/410 hp @ 5,600 rpm, 429 lb-ft @ 4,000 rpm TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 6-passenger, front-engine, 4WD truck EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 237.3 x 79.1 x 81.0 in WHEELBASE 149.3 in WEIGHT 6,996 lb 0-60 MPH 8.5 sec (est) TOP SPEED 99 mph

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2018 Kia Stinger GT Four Seasons Introduction

We’ve driven enough midsize sport sedans over the years to know what we want. Along with a nimble, rear-wheel-drive chassis and a horsepower figure north of the 300 mark, we usually think of something with a German, American, or Italian bloodline. Korean roots? Not so much. But then we spent some quality time with the 2018 Kia Stinger GT. It reset our mentality, so much so that we decided to get one in for a year’s worth of evaluation.

The lean, mean Stinger machine is the culmination of almost a decade’s worth of tantalizing teasing by the automaker. Kia first hinted at a vehicle with true sporting intentions in 2011 with the Kia GT concept, and again in 2014 with the GT4 Stinger concept. Then it finally dropped the real production version at the 2017 Detroit auto show, thanks in part to the contributions of some German imports.

Indeed, the halls of Kia HQ probably smell a bit like brats and spilled hefeweizen these days, as the company lured some top engineering talent away from Germany to help the marque turn up the heat. Chief among them is Hyundai Motor Group head of vehicle testing and high-performance development Albert Biermann, the man who orchestrated the Stinger’s dynamic symphony. Fellow BMW alums Thomas Schemera and Fayez Rahman also play key roles at the group. These people know how to develop a proper sport sedan.

While Biermann’s squad handled the Stinger’s performance and handling, president and chief design officer for Kia Motors Corporation (and fellow German native) Peter Schreyer and his team sculpted the Stinger’s styling. Draped in a shell featuring a coupe-like greenhouse, an aggressive front fascia that advances Kia’s late-model mug, and a functional, integrated liftback, the Stinger deserved a Four Seasons bid on its looks alone. Associate editor Billy Rehbock experienced the pseudo-celebrity treatment behind the wheel of a Stinger GT prior to the arrival of our Four Seasons tester. “I watched heads turn and follow the car as I passed in a parking lot and got loads of remarks from onlookers as I got in or out,” Rehbock wrote. “A guy in a Chrysler 300 nearly pressed his face against his window trying to get a better look.”

Another big part of the Stinger’s appeal is its unique nature, given its liftback versatility and tweener status in both the size and luxury arenas. “A segment straddler, it’s neither a large sedan nor a midsizer, and it’s neither premium nor mainstream in its fit and finish,” senior editor Nelson Ireson said. “It’s somewhere in the center of the overlapping Venn diagram of all of these traits. And while that might mean it’s hard for some people to appreciate, it’s also what makes the Stinger GT so good for so many uses.”

Kia presently offers the Stinger in five trim levels and two powertrain configurations, starting with a base 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder pushing a healthy 255 hp and 260 lb-ft of torque to the rear wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission of Kia’s own design. All-wheel drive is available for $2,200 and can be had from the bottom to the top of the Stinger range.

Although the turbo-four is a compelling offering, we like a little more pep in our step, so we opted for the Stinger GT. Its eight-speed is mated to a 3.3-liter twin-turbo V-6 that has seen duty in several recent Hyundai Group models. The engine is rated at 365 hp and a healthy 376 lb-ft, enough to hustle our rear-wheel-drive model from 0 to 60 mph in a Kia-claimed 4.7 seconds. We could have opted for the AWD upgrade, but given that our tester will spend the majority of its time within in the state lines of sunny California, AWD seemed like an unnecessary complication.

Not all GTs are created equal, however, with the GT1 and GT2 trims sitting above the base GT. Ours is a well-equipped GT2 in HiChroma Red, weighing in at $50,175. Unlike the Germans, there isn’t much à la carte ordering to be had. If you want more features, you’ve got to ascend the trim hierarchy. Since the GT2 is the top trim in the Stinger heap, it comes fully loaded; the only option on our car is a $75 rear bumper applique. It’s a comprehensive package that’s a requirement when you start pushing up into this price bracket.

Performance wise, the GT2 comes with a limited-slip differential and electronically adjustable suspension, along with 19-inch wheels with a set of Michelin Pilot Sport 4s (225/40R19 front, 255/35R19 rear) wrapped around them. A Brembo brake package slows things down. Strangely, the electronic shift-by-wire system is exclusive to the GT2 trim. As far as we can tell, it doesn’t do anything differently than the regular shifter except clean up the interior aesthetics a bit, as the T-handle unit on lower-line Stingers is balky at best.

In addition to the fancy e-shifter, there are myriad infotainment and comfort features, including an 8.0-inch touchscreen with voice command and navigation and a 15-speaker Harman/Kardon sound system. Our Stinger also features Nappa leather trim and power 16-way adjustable driver and 12-way adjustable passenger seats. They’re heated too, as is the power-adjustable steering wheel.

A full range of nannies and other convenience features are in the mix as well, including radar cruise control, blind-spot monitoring, forward-collision warning and avoidance, lane departure, lane-keep assist, rear cross-traffic alert, and automatic high-beams. Oh, and don’t forget the rain-sensing wipers (not that we need them much out here in Los Angeles). The GT2 also gets a trim-exclusive head-up display.

Listening to Automobile editors who have already had an early go in the car, we anticipate a fun and (very) fast 12 months. Although the Stinger didn’t quite make the top step of the podium, it was widely praised at last year’s All-Stars event for its dynamic capabilities and potent powertrain, and those who have gotten extended seat time in the car have praised it. “After logging several hundred miles on the odometer, I came to appreciate the Stinger as a capable sport sedan with proper touring car clout,” Rehbock said of his extended drive. “It’s fast. Really fast. Hitting freeway speeds is no problem, and our tester was all too eager to get up to speed.”

We’re eager to find out if this is the start of something truly magical for Kia, or just a bulgogi-flavored flash in the pan. But based on our time so far with the 2018 Kia Stinger GT—including the first stints in our Four Seasons car—we’re expecting to snap more necks, field more questions, and get chased down over the next year by a public curious to know what this quick Korean sport sedan is all about.

  Our 2018 Kia Stinger GT2 RWD

Overview PRICE $50,100/$50,175 (base/as tested) ENGINE 3.3-liter twin-turbo DOHC 24-valve V-6/365 hp @ 6,000 rpm, 376 lb-ft @ 1,300-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, RWD hatchback

Chassis

CONSTRUCTION Unibody STEERING Electric power assisted variable ratio rack and pinion LOCK-TO-LOCK N/A TURNING CIRCLE 36.7 ft SUSPENSION, F/R MacPherson strut/five-link BRAKES, F/R Vented discs WHEELS, F/R 19-inch alloy TIRES Michelin Pilot Sport 4, Front: 225/40R19, Rear: 255/35R19

Measurements

L X W X H 190.2 x 73.6 x 55.1 in WHEELBASE 114.4 in TRACK, F/R 62.8/63.7 in HEADROOM, F/R 38.3/37.0 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.6/36.4 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 56.4/54.8 in CARGO CAPACITY 23.3/40.9 cu ft WEIGHT 3,829 lb WEIGHT DIST F/R  52%/48% EPA MILEAGE 19/25/21 (city/hwy/combined) FUEL CAPACITY  15.9 gallons EST. FUEL RANGE 398 miles (est) FUEL GRADE Unleaded premium 0-60 MPH 4.7 sec TOP SPEED  167 mph (mfr. est.)

Equipment

STANDARD EQUIPMENT Nappa leather trim Power-adjustable heated and cooled front seats w/ memory Power-adjustable steering column Android Auto/Apple CarPlay integration Harmon/Kardon premium audio w/ SiriusXM Harmon/Kardon premium audio w/ SiriusXM UVO eServices Smart key with push-button start Head-up display Adaptive cruise control LED ambient lighting Automatic high-beams Lane-departure warning and correction Forward-collision warning and avoidance Blind-spot warning with rear cross-traffic alert Power sunroof Rain-sensing wipers Power tailgate LED headlights OPTIONAL EQUIPMENT Rear bumper applique $75

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2018 Kia Stinger GT Four Seasons Introduction

We’ve driven enough midsize sport sedans over the years to know what we want. Along with a nimble, rear-wheel-drive chassis and a horsepower figure north of the 300 mark, we usually think of something with a German, American, or Italian bloodline. Korean roots? Not so much. But then we spent some quality time with the 2018 Kia Stinger GT. It reset our mentality, so much so that we decided to get one in for a year’s worth of evaluation.

The lean, mean Stinger machine is the culmination of almost a decade’s worth of tantalizing teasing by the automaker. Kia first hinted at a vehicle with true sporting intentions in 2011 with the Kia GT concept, and again in 2014 with the GT4 Stinger concept. Then it finally dropped the real production version at the 2017 Detroit auto show, thanks in part to the contributions of some German imports.

Indeed, the halls of Kia HQ probably smell a bit like brats and spilled hefeweizen these days, as the company lured some top engineering talent away from Germany to help the marque turn up the heat. Chief among them is Hyundai Motor Group head of vehicle testing and high-performance development Albert Biermann, the man who orchestrated the Stinger’s dynamic symphony. Fellow BMW alums Thomas Schemera and Fayez Rahman also play key roles at the group. These people know how to develop a proper sport sedan.

While Biermann’s squad handled the Stinger’s performance and handling, president and chief design officer for Kia Motors Corporation (and fellow German native) Peter Schreyer and his team sculpted the Stinger’s styling. Draped in a shell featuring a coupe-like greenhouse, an aggressive front fascia that advances Kia’s late-model mug, and a functional, integrated liftback, the Stinger deserved a Four Seasons bid on its looks alone. Associate editor Billy Rehbock experienced the pseudo-celebrity treatment behind the wheel of a Stinger GT prior to the arrival of our Four Seasons tester. “I watched heads turn and follow the car as I passed in a parking lot and got loads of remarks from onlookers as I got in or out,” Rehbock wrote. “A guy in a Chrysler 300 nearly pressed his face against his window trying to get a better look.”

Another big part of the Stinger’s appeal is its unique nature, given its liftback versatility and tweener status in both the size and luxury arenas. “A segment straddler, it’s neither a large sedan nor a midsizer, and it’s neither premium nor mainstream in its fit and finish,” senior editor Nelson Ireson said. “It’s somewhere in the center of the overlapping Venn diagram of all of these traits. And while that might mean it’s hard for some people to appreciate, it’s also what makes the Stinger GT so good for so many uses.”

Kia presently offers the Stinger in five trim levels and two powertrain configurations, starting with a base 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder pushing a healthy 255 hp and 260 lb-ft of torque to the rear wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission of Kia’s own design. All-wheel drive is available for $2,200 and can be had from the bottom to the top of the Stinger range.

Although the turbo-four is a compelling offering, we like a little more pep in our step, so we opted for the Stinger GT. Its eight-speed is mated to a 3.3-liter twin-turbo V-6 that has seen duty in several recent Hyundai Group models. The engine is rated at 365 hp and a healthy 376 lb-ft, enough to hustle our rear-wheel-drive model from 0 to 60 mph in a Kia-claimed 4.7 seconds. We could have opted for the AWD upgrade, but given that our tester will spend the majority of its time within in the state lines of sunny California, AWD seemed like an unnecessary complication.

Not all GTs are created equal, however, with the GT1 and GT2 trims sitting above the base GT. Ours is a well-equipped GT2 in HiChroma Red, weighing in at $50,175. Unlike the Germans, there isn’t much à la carte ordering to be had. If you want more features, you’ve got to ascend the trim hierarchy. Since the GT2 is the top trim in the Stinger heap, it comes fully loaded; the only option on our car is a $75 rear bumper applique. It’s a comprehensive package that’s a requirement when you start pushing up into this price bracket.

Performance wise, the GT2 comes with a limited-slip differential and electronically adjustable suspension, along with 19-inch wheels with a set of Michelin Pilot Sport 4s (225/40R19 front, 255/35R19 rear) wrapped around them. A Brembo brake package slows things down. Strangely, the electronic shift-by-wire system is exclusive to the GT2 trim. As far as we can tell, it doesn’t do anything differently than the regular shifter except clean up the interior aesthetics a bit, as the T-handle unit on lower-line Stingers is balky at best.

In addition to the fancy e-shifter, there are myriad infotainment and comfort features, including an 8.0-inch touchscreen with voice command and navigation and a 15-speaker Harman/Kardon sound system. Our Stinger also features Nappa leather trim and power 16-way adjustable driver and 12-way adjustable passenger seats. They’re heated too, as is the power-adjustable steering wheel.

A full range of nannies and other convenience features are in the mix as well, including radar cruise control, blind-spot monitoring, forward-collision warning and avoidance, lane departure, lane-keep assist, rear cross-traffic alert, and automatic high-beams. Oh, and don’t forget the rain-sensing wipers (not that we need them much out here in Los Angeles). The GT2 also gets a trim-exclusive head-up display.

Listening to Automobile editors who have already had an early go in the car, we anticipate a fun and (very) fast 12 months. Although the Stinger didn’t quite make the top step of the podium, it was widely praised at last year’s All-Stars event for its dynamic capabilities and potent powertrain, and those who have gotten extended seat time in the car have praised it. “After logging several hundred miles on the odometer, I came to appreciate the Stinger as a capable sport sedan with proper touring car clout,” Rehbock said of his extended drive. “It’s fast. Really fast. Hitting freeway speeds is no problem, and our tester was all too eager to get up to speed.”

We��re eager to find out if this is the start of something truly magical for Kia, or just a bulgogi-flavored flash in the pan. But based on our time so far with the 2018 Kia Stinger GT—including the first stints in our Four Seasons car—we’re expecting to snap more necks, field more questions, and get chased down over the next year by a public curious to know what this quick Korean sport sedan is all about.

  Our 2018 Kia Stinger GT2 RWD

Overview PRICE $50,100/$50,175 (base/as tested) ENGINE 3.3-liter twin-turbo DOHC 24-valve V-6/365 hp @ 6,000 rpm, 376 lb-ft @ 1,300-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, RWD hatchback

Chassis

CONSTRUCTION Unibody STEERING Electric power assisted variable ratio rack and pinion LOCK-TO-LOCK N/A TURNING CIRCLE 36.7 ft SUSPENSION, F/R MacPherson strut/five-link BRAKES, F/R Vented discs WHEELS, F/R 19-inch alloy TIRES Michelin Pilot Sport 4, Front: 225/40R19, Rear: 255/35R19

Measurements

L X W X H 190.2 x 73.6 x 55.1 in WHEELBASE 114.4 in TRACK, F/R 62.8/63.7 in HEADROOM, F/R 38.3/37.0 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.6/36.4 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 56.4/54.8 in CARGO CAPACITY 23.3/40.9 cu ft WEIGHT 3,829 lb WEIGHT DIST F/R  52%/48% EPA MILEAGE 19/25/21 (city/hwy/combined) FUEL CAPACITY  15.9 gallons EST. FUEL RANGE 398 miles (est) FUEL GRADE Unleaded premium 0-60 MPH 4.7 sec TOP SPEED  167 mph (mfr. est.)

Equipment

STANDARD EQUIPMENT Nappa leather trim Power-adjustable heated and cooled front seats w/ memory Power-adjustable steering column Android Auto/Apple CarPlay integration Harmon/Kardon premium audio w/ SiriusXM Harmon/Kardon premium audio w/ SiriusXM UVO eServices Smart key with push-button start Head-up display Adaptive cruise control LED ambient lighting Automatic high-beams Lane-departure warning and correction Forward-collision warning and avoidance Blind-spot warning with rear cross-traffic alert Power sunroof Rain-sensing wipers Power tailgate LED headlights OPTIONAL EQUIPMENT Rear bumper applique $75

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