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bratkook · 3 years

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right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day.

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!”

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily.

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really.

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me.

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs.

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again.

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place.

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping.

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub.

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you.

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food.

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are.

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container.

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops.

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too.

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings.

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work.

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers.

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral.

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time.

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her.

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener.

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup.

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions.

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully.

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide.

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help.

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.”

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are.

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault.

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile.

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her.

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners.

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling.

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal.

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound. “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination.

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped.

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain.

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him.

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels.

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night.

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie.

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom.

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out.

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up.

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.”

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice.

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night.

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below.

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation.

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier.

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long.

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close.

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time.

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way.

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be.

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it.

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior.

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically.

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened.

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it.

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up.

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom.

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life.

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best.

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow.

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator.

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected.

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying.

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely.

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you.

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response.

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages.

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them.

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away.

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal.

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you.

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand.

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way.

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up.

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times.

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse.

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start.

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking.

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?”

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono.

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory.

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream.

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will.

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion.

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence.

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you.

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush.

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult.

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face.

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours.

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out.

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it.

“Mm, no you don’t.”

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss.

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck.

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him.

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you.

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this.

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours.

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more.

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps.

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation.

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch.

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you.

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart.

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way.

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be.

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name.

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away.

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out.

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips.

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him.

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it.

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm.

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips.

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own.

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way.

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless.

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up.

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you.

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now.

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips.

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized.

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his.

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached.

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace.

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks.

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him.

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans.

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager.

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it. “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too.

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you.

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

#jungkook smut #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions.

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R.

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply.

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible.

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated.

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically.

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely.

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen.

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.”

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody.

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away.

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer.

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right?

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now.

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #attempted suicide #injury #all off screen this chapter #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #starwars #codywan #angst #fanfic

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

A Snippet of Life with Agatha Harkness

I have no idea how to use tumblr so I hope this works

--- Salem 1693 ----

Chaos reigned in the forest that night. Even before you had any inkling as to what had transpired between Agatha and the elder half of the Coven you could feel the imbalance in the air. It came in the form of an ominous pressure weighing down on you, a heightened sense of urgency that had you rushing toward shelter.

The forest had never scared you, not until that night. Shadowy figures seemed to move in your peripheral, gradually drawing nearer as you grew closer to your house, to your sanctuary. For once, you were cursing the remote location in the depth of the woods as upon arrival, you'd find yourself completely isolated, yet trapped by the thick rows of trees.

Although, as the heavy wooden door slammed behind you, the tension dissipated ever so slightly. Despite what your intuition was telling you, there was still a sense of safety to be found here. You exhaled, calming your erratic breathing and turning to lock the door.

"You know that flimsy lock wouldn't work, right?" A voice called from the back of your house, hidden in darkness but revealed by the person's tone.

Without turning, you answered. "It would against humans."

This wasn't the first time Agatha had sought refuge in your house. When she was younger, and would argue with her mother, she'd come running to your door begging for a bed for the night. Your own mother, a much kinder woman, would never turn her away. It was how you became such close friends.

She chuckled in response, though there was no real humour behind it. In spite of how tired Agatha sounded, she commanded a certain amount of fear. You could feel the dark power radiating round the room that was accustom to her presence. The other witches were not attuned to her malevolent abilities, but you'd always known.

The energy was almost audible, crackling as it came into contact with your own powers. Most would be threatened by it, but as her closest friend, the magic welcomed you into its obscurity. Tonight, however, there was a certain hostile hesitance to it.

You gulped, refusing to turn around in fear of facing the truth. "Are you staying for the night?"

"No." You heard movement, imagining that Agatha was gradually walking towards you. Your suspicion was confirmed as her breath hit the back of your neck. "I need you to come with me."

A chill travelled throughout your body at the notion. She'd always hated living as part of the Coven and used to share her dreams of running away with you. Now, for some unknown reason this fantasy had become a possibility. You remained quiet, trying to put two and two together.

At your silence, she sighed. There was more movement, and then her hand was outstretched in your line of vision, palm flat presenting a broach. Her mother's broach. Your breath hitched. If the broach was in her possession, than that could only mean one thing.

"They held a trial against me." Her voice barely breached a whisper. "Tried to have me killed." Her other hand rested against your shoulder, causing you to flinch. "I couldn't have done anything else."

You inhaled a shaky breath, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. Years ago when your own mother had died, you blamed yourself, but Agatha had been there for you. She saved you from spiralling further into depression, dragged you out of the bleak captivity and promised to never leave.

You owed her everything, and had promised to do the same if anything ever happened to her. Now was the chance to repay for her loyalty.

Without another word, you turned, wrapping your arms around her form and tugging her closer. She was taken aback by the sudden contact, but soon reciprocated the embrace. She leant into the crook of your neck for a moment, then placed a kiss along your jaw. It served as an unspoken agreement, sealing your pledge of loyalty.

You knew in that moment that Agatha Harkness would probably be the death of you, which was something you were more than willing to accept so long as you could spend eternity in her arms.

--- London 1852 ---

Since the turn of 17th century, you'd been inseparable. On the very same night Agatha had grown fully into her potential powers, you'd run away together. It fulfilled childhood ambitions while simultaneously throwing you into independence earlier than you'd been prepared for, meaning that Agatha was all you had, not that you were complaining.

Had your mother been alive, you liked to believe she would've approved, although, sometimes you missed your home amongst the forest. The house and Coven had been your last true connection to her, severed that night as you left without a proper goodbye. Even now, over a hundred years later, the loss still caused you grief.

Agatha had never related to your attachment to Salem, or to family. From her perspective, you were all she needed. As long as you were by her side, anywhere could be home. Which is how you found yourself living in London, of all places, trapped amidst the seemingly endless industrial revolution. The houses were crammed close together, the streets overcrowded with miserable people.

Out of all the places you'd resided, this was by far your least favourite. Though, you'd never mention your misery to Agatha, who you could tell secretly loved the chaos of the city.

Your house was one among an identical row, so undifferentiated from the others that there had been several occasions when you'd accidentally entered the wrong one. Though thankfully, this evening you did not repeat that particular incident. After a long day of work, which you insisted on doing to maintain some sense of normality, your feet were aching, and your lungs filled with the smog that encompassed the city.

As the door shut behind you, the bustling noise was slightly subdued. You sighed in relief, taking a moment to observe the current layout of your home. While you spent the day working, Agatha would practice spells, and often you'd arrive to find the house either in disarray, or in a state of luxury that didn't match the appearance of the building. Today was the latter.

The living room had been transformed into something you'd expect to find in a manor house, featuring a rich wooden floor and furniture that looked to be the most comfortable you'd ever seen. New exotic decoration was scattered throughout, though you didn't take the time to appreciate it upon noticing the lit fireplace, instead collapsing in the armchair in front of the crackling fire. You basked in its warmth while savouring the comfort the chair provided.

You closed your eyes, appreciating the silence until it was inevitably interrupted. "Evening, dear." Agatha's enthusiastic voice called out as you heard her walking upstairs, most likely leaving the basement. She spent most her time down there, pouring herself into the books she'd accumulated over the years, dedicating effort to gaining more power.

"Evening. " You greeted upon hearing her footsteps grow nearer. "I like what you've done with the place." Opening your eyes, you were met with the unexpected image of Agatha wearing one of her usual dresses, only it was now an intense purple. "Nice dress."

"Oh, this old thing. Just an experiment." She dismissed with a wave. "Now, come with me." She stepped forward to grab your hand, impatiently trying to pull you up.

You groaned, reluctant to move from exhaustion. "Let me sit for a minute." The complaint didn't deter her, and you finally relented as her magic began to surround you, lifting your body as though you were weightless. "This better be worth it." You mumbled, being lead down to the basement.

It in fact was worthwhile. She'd spent the day working on a counter to a binding spell, and required you to be the test subject.

First, she walked you through how it worked, explaining in great detail that you shouldn't immediately oppose the spell, but rather let yourself fall deeper into the trap. And then she, without warning, bound your hands together, assuming you were willing to participate.

Unfortunately, her guidance hadn't been as clear as she intended, leaving you stuck for the following half hour.

"Please, Aggie, can we just give up?" You shifted around, seeking room to stretch your cramped limbs. "I obviously can't do it."

"Well, not with that attitude you can't." She clapped her hands, seemingly reinvigorated by your surrender. Then she began to amble around you in a circle as though observing from every angle.

You rolled your eyes, ensuring that she saw the display of impatience. "Why don't we pick this up tomorrow? Or when I haven't just had a full day at work, at least."

"It's your choice to work." She reminded you. "We have no need for the money." Agatha halted behind you, concluding that a new approach was necessary. She stepped closer, starting to rub soothing circles on your back. "You're overcomplicating it. Just- think about the disadvantage you're at right now. All the things I could do from this position."

You could practically hear the smirk in her voice, so decided to play along. "And why would I want to stop you?"

She laughed loudly, or rather, incredulously at that. "Oh baby, you sure you could handle it?"

Finding yourself at a loss for words, you simply nodded. Agatha usually flirted at any given opportunity, which was initially for her entertainment, simply to make you blush. But as you spent more time together, you became immune to her words. You'd quickly learnt that they carried no real weight.

Except now her tone was insinuating some sincerity behind the claim, which left you speechless.

"Can't even get out these binds." She murmured, her breath hot against your ear, her body pressing against your own.

"That's- unfair." You faltered, distracted by the close proximity.

"Then prove me wrong."

Tearing your mind away from Agatha's annoyingly smug insinuations, you focused on the binds in front of you. Purple magic looped around your wrists, erratically swerving around, but firmly holding your hands in place. Taking her advice, you almost entirely cleared your mind, concentrating only on the feeling of confinement. Slowly, the purple was overtaken by a sea of blue, replaced by your own magic.

"Atta girl." She praised, watching as your magic began to work. In encouragement, her mouth brushed against your neck, trailing up to behind your ear.

The binds suddenly snapped. Your mind overwhelmed by her teasing touch. You were grateful for the freedom nonetheless, sighing in relief as you massaged your wrists. Agatha backed away.

You turned to face her, already missing the contact. She was being unusually quiet, and only smiled awkwardly at the eye contact before busying herself with something else.

So much for being serious.

--- London May 8th 1945 ---

Despite living rather detached from the events of everyday, the World Wars had been rather hard to avoid, especially now, as millions of people flooded the streets to celebrate victory. The party had really begun the night before, requiring a noise cancelling incantation to be placed upon the house. Although it only resulted in a restless night spent lying in bed imagining what was happening outside. You had sworn to yourself that you'd join the celebrations the following day, regardless of whether or not Agatha wanted to join.

Living for such a long time, you'd come to realise that events truly were once in a lifetime, so you certainly weren't going to miss out on this one. Throughout your unnaturally long life, you'd grown wiser in some aspects, while with others you remained equally clueless. Dealing with your emotions, for one.

Almost three centuries of life spent with Agatha, yet you still hadn't confessed how you felt. The feeling had crept up on you slowly, strategically taking root deep within you. At first, you'd reasoned that perhaps it was the endless amount of flirting, or the shared experiences that made you care so deeply for her. But as you were currently walking through the city, passing couples sharing in their jubilation, you admitted that it was entirely her.

You loved everything about Agatha. You loved her at her best, and at her worst. Stuck by her side through prosperity and calamity. From the time she accidently transmuted you both to the middle of a jungle (which was then proceeded by a long hike and a tense week in which neither of you spoke to the other) to moments like these.

Through a gap in the crowd, you'd spotted her a few paces ahead, frantically looking around for you.

Sometimes the most memorable moments with her were when she was oblivious to you, in a world of her own. One of her weaknesses had always been her inability to truly relax with other people, and despite having spent so long together, you were no exception. Though the scarcity of these moments only made them more special, which is one of the reasons you loved to watch her work. There would inevitably come a point when she was so lost in her thoughts that she'd completely unwind, and the rare but real Agatha would take over.

Carefully pushing past the hoards of people, you caught up with her. Admittedly, the 40s were serving her well. Somehow she was able to perfectly blend in, styling her hair to be shorter and donning a deep purple dress, while simultaneously being eye-catching. You were certain that you'd be able to find her in a crowd of any size.

You reached out to tap her shoulder and were almost knocked over by the pace at which she swung round. At first glance she appeared concerned.

"There you are." She exclaimed, smoothing her expression into one of disinterest.

For all Agatha may try to act nonchalant, you'd learnt to recognize when she was uncomfortable. In this instance, it was the slight disdain in her voice that gave it away. "Behind you the entire time." You lied.

She looked sceptical, but dropped the subject in place of grabbing hold of your hand. "I hate crowds." She half whispered, half shouted, shooting an exasperated glare in the direction of a group that had just bumped into her. "Don't wander off again." She scolded, switching her focus back to you.

"Lighten up, Aggie." You tugged her forwards, re-joining the pace of the procession. She followed obediently, keeping her eyes down. "Don't ya know," You mimicked your worst American accent. "wars over doll!" The attempt at cheering her up earned a small smile, but she remained otherwise distracted.

A few more minutes of walking in a rather solemn silence and you relented. "What's on your mind?" Pulling her to a stop, your hand automatically slid to her waist. "If you don't want to be here, we can go home. I don't mind."

She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but never got the chance.

Behind you, someone from within a group began yelling out a countdown. You turned to see what the commotion was just as they reached the end, then watched as everyone in the group grabbed a partner and kissed them. The display was followed by cheering, and a round of applause as several other couples followed suit around you.

Perhaps it was the celebratory atmosphere, or the continually increasing intensity of your feelings toward Agatha, but you only had one goal in mind as you turned back to her.

But she must've been thinking the same as she beat you to it.

Her hands found their way to your face, yanking you closer. In the split second before your eyes fluttered closed, you caught sight of the abnormally vulnerable way she was looking at you, and quickly sought to reassure her by reciprocating the embrace. As soon as your lips met, everything faded around you. Agatha was all you could feel. She became everything.

Neither of you wasted any time in deepening the kiss. Soon your lips were parting, her tongue brushing against your own causing a rush of heat to suffuse across your body. Her hand shifted to caress your jaw, the softness of the action contrasting to the insatiable desperation with which she was pressing herself as close as possible.

You reluctantly pull away for a second. "We should-" You're trying to speak between kisses as Agatha refuses to stop. "go home now?"

There's no need to elaborate any further as she, without halting her path down to your neck, teleports you both home in a cloud of purple smoke.

You've never been more pleased with her improved accuracy in transmutation.

--- 1986 ---

Somewhere in the distance an awfully cheesy song was playing, one from one of Agatha's mixtapes no doubt. She loved the recent music style, stating that this would be the peak, though she'd said the same during the 60s and 70s. You had to agree, listening to trashy ballads with her had been the highlight of every decade.

"What are you thinking about?" Agatha's voice was low and husky, almost a whisper. You turned to see how she was staring at you, eyes roaming across your face as though for the first time. You were undoubtedly doing the same, but who could blame you when she only grew more bewitching everyday.

"Nothing." You sighed, sinking further into the pillow behind you. The room was faintly glowing, illuminated by both blue and purple strands of magic floating through the air. It was strangely comforting, like watching lightning crackling from afar. Lazily, you reached up, swirling a strand of blue round your finger.

"Your magic is darker." She commented, admiring the sapphire colour. She was right, while her power had taken on its purple colour earlier, yours had gradually darkened from the conventional light blue to a deep sapphire.

"Probably from spending too much time with you."

She chuckled, drawing your body closer to her chest and resting her head against your shoulder. "You love it." Smirking, she pressed her lips on your collarbone, then lightly bit down on the flesh. She shifted impossibly closer, her mouth tracing a path across your neck.

You revelled in the attention she was indulging you in, the sensations that accompanied her affection. Having Agatha's complete devotion was something you'd never get used to. During your friendship, she'd strived to be as close to you as possible, but being in a relationship with her provoked a whole new level of dedication.

"I love you." Though not the first time you'd told her, the repeated phrase still carried the same weight.

However, perhaps it was even more meaningful on this occasion, because as soon as the words left your mouth, Agatha froze. An anxious minute followed in which neither of you spoke, let alone moved. You didn't dare say anything else, rather lay there in silence, wondering what had warranted the sudden change in atmosphere.

Then she, without lifting her head, murmured against your skin. "Marry me."

Initially you believed your hearing had deceived you, that in reality she had said something else entirely. But judging by the way her whole body tensed, the way her magic pulsed dangerously as if it were guarding her, you knew, or rather could feel that it wasn't a deception. She had just proposed.

As another minute passed, you could almost feel her retreating into herself, insecurities inducing regret. You snapped back into reality, already loathing yourself for delaying the obvious response. "Yes. Of course I will."

Finally, Agatha dared to look up, tearful eyes meeting your own. She smiled shakily, then leant back down into a demanding kiss. "I love you, so much." She practically purred against your lips, before continuing to pepper any available skin with kisses.

Being loved by Agatha Harkness was bliss.

--- The Battle of New York 2012 ---

Another devastatingly loud crash shook your apartment, the gradually increasing volume indicating that the conflict was drawing nearer. Unlike the rest of the building's inhabitants, neither you nor Agatha had fled yet. But with each deafening rumble, or ear-piercing scream, you found yourself a step closer to ignoring her demand and leaving to help.

Upon waking up that morning, you'd sensed something was wrong, or rather, would be wrong very soon. The inkling had nagged strongly enough at the back of your mind to prompt you to wake Agatha up, who was quick to confirm your suspicion. However, neither or you could pinpoint specifics, leaving you to continue as though it were a normal day.

At some point, Agatha, being the ever vigilant wife, had gone behind your back and decided to place a protection spell upon the apartment for any worst case scenario that might've occurred. Although not an inherently bad thing, with the eventual discovery of this, you'd come to a couple rather upsetting revelations.

First, the obvious fact that she hadn't told you her plan, and second, the realisation that she'd somehow learnt to hide her magic from you. Of course her actions had annoyed you, but the battle raging outside kept you too distracted to process anything beyond basic surveillance.

Instead of arguing with Agatha, you'd suggested that you ought to help in any possible way. She'd replied with strong discrepancy, stating that it'd be too dangerous, then later admitting that she was afraid of losing you. Under any other circumstances, the confession would've been sufficient to cool your temper, to resign to hiding with your over-protective wife, but not this time.

You'd grown weary of watching people suffer, of the city being destroyed all around you. The large windows surveying the streets below had portrayed nothing but constant violence for the past hour. You were unable to look away, yet hated to watch helplessly. Only you weren't helpless. Unlike the majority of people, you were able to defend yourself, to fight back. The only thing stopping you was the reluctant promise made to your wife.

Avoiding the battle was becoming unbearable, and with no end in sight, you decided it was time to take action. Jumping up from the chair, you set a determined pace toward the kitchen. Agatha had her back turned, nonchalantly making tea while ignoring the chaos surrounding your home. Her indifference only motivated you.

"Agatha."

"Yup." She replied, casually popping the p.

"I'm going out." You tried to copy her apathetic tone, though there was still anger behind your words.

She tensed at the declaration, her grip on the counter visibly tightening, yet was remarkably quiet. Despite being unable to see her face, you could perfectly picture her grimacing. Nonetheless, her silent seething only encouraged you to continue. "Sitting here and doing nothing is driving me insane. I can't just-"

"No. You're not." She slowly turned round, peering at you both challengingly, and curiously. You hadn't seen her like this for centuries, not since the night before you'd runaway together. She had the same demeanour, was harnessing the same barely contained power. It filled the room like a shadow, engulfing you in a sense of dread. She shook her head, an eerily disbelieving smile stretching across her face. "You're not going anywhere."

The statement was commanding, it should've had you at her feet begging for mercy. But you'd spent so much of your life with her that you could see the lie in her eyes, notice the lack of meaning behind the words. She wasn't going to stop you.

"I'm going to help, Aggie." You took a step forward, a pleading attempt to convince her to let you go, maybe even to join you. Instead, she flinched. "Please..."

She was warily watching you in silence, her stubbornness shining through. The lack of compassion she was demonstrating reignited your resentment, had you nearly shaking with apprehension. There was no way she'd join you, but she definitely wouldn't stop you either.

"Here." With unsteady hands, you fumbled around for different valuables about your person, first throwing a watch onto the table, then a phone, and finally your ring. "Look after these."

Without another glance at Agatha, you strode out of the kitchen, flung open the door and descended onto the chaotic streets of New York.

It soon became apparent that your effort would best be spent helping any citizens, while, with much difficulty, staying out of sight. Under no circumstances did you want to be recognised for your endeavour, honoured for something that was general human decency. Besides, there was plenty gratification to be found in the battle. You couldn't recall ever having the opportunity to unleash your powers like this, out in the open with no holding back. It was therapeutic, though draining.

The eventual end to the conflict was a relief, but walking home seemed to require more energy than the entirety of the fighting had. As the adrenaline faded, you struggled to climb the endless flights of stairs, cursing the out of order elevator. However, the journey did give you a chance to think back over the past few hours, which were mostly a blur. Although one thing remained painfully clear; the argument with Agatha.

Pushing open the apartment door, you decided that your first priority was to apologise to her. You didn't regret your decision, but hadn't intended to upset her either. Then, only after could you relax, treat the few injuries sustained.

Strolling into the entrance, a palpable silence followed. You certainly hadn't expected to be welcomed back with open arms, but the lack of any greeting was concerning. The sound of your footsteps continued to be the only noise, echoing round the apparently empty flat. Your pace quickened as you explored the last few rooms, finding them all to be empty also.

At first glance, everything appeared to be exactly where you'd left it (except Agatha herself). It wasn't until your third walkthrough that you noticed something else was clearly missing. Your ring. The pile of valuables remained where you'd left them on the kitchen counter, save for the small silver band, which was no longer there.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you frantically began to search the floor, checking it hadn't fallen anywhere. Even at the lower vantage point, the ring was still no where to be seen. Upon giving up, you then searched through the apartment in greater detail, basically tearing the place apart. It didn't take long until you noticed that more was missing. Specifically, most of Agatha's things.

She had left you.

--- Westview 2023 ---

The red wall crackled ominously before you, the noise it emitted strangely similar to that of TV static. There was something inherently terrifying about the large structure engulfing the town. You could almost hear it transmitting a warning to stay away, not to venture past the boundary, but you'd come too far to surrender now.

Stretching forth a hand, you were met with little resistance. You'd dedicated the last ten years to improving on your magic ability and finally the progress was paying off. However, a large majority of that time had also been spent trying to track down Agatha, who's disappearance had caused nothing but pain. Out of all your mistakes, that one was the worst, and inconveniently, the hardest to fix. Despite your best efforts, there had been no sign of her for the last decade, though you hoped today would be the end to this separation.

Thousands of spells all cast at once, it would be impossible for Agatha to stay away. You could practically feel her presence nearby.

Propelling yourself forward slightly, you were pulled through the wall by an unknown force. While the boundary seemed to intimidate and reject most people, you were clearly an exception. The strength with which you were immersed into the town sent you spiralling toward the ground.

Grunting upon impact, you allowed a few seconds to remain on the ground and recover, only looking up when you heard a distinct but unforeseen sound. Children's laughter resonated from a distance, perfectly wholesome and entirely unexpected. Even more surprising was the completely ordinary suburban town in front of you.

Undeterred by the unanticipated scenario, you stood and observed the town in closer detail. You were situated towards the edge, on a patch of grass facing the last row of houses along the perimeter road. It was night, but the street was illuminated by what looked to be Halloween decorations. A pumpkin was placed outside every house, yet there was no one in sight. Carefully, you approached the signpost reading Ellis Ave and paused for a moment to think of a plan.

You knew Agatha was lurking somewhere in the town. The question was, how could you find her while being inconspicuous enough to avoid whoever had cast this town entrapment? Clearly they were incredibly powerful, perhaps more so than Agatha.

The eerie silence was broken by an advancing car, which parked in front of the crossroads. The entire situation was bizarre, but the uncanny feeling didn't stop you from walking over to the vehicle. Hopefully whoever was inside could shine a light on what was happening here.

You kept out of the beaming headlights, sticking to the shadows as you hesitantly approached. The person sitting at the drivers seat was obscured by the darkness so you hid from them while moving closer, therefore gaining the high ground in case they were someone worth avoiding. It wasn't until you were adjacent from the window that you halted to peer inside.

She was turned away from you, but that didn't stop you from immediately recognising her. Agatha still hadn't seen you, busy adjusting her witches hat, ironic, and seemingly setting a scene.

You had imagined this reunion many times, but not like this. It felt unreal to see her sat barely a few metres away from you, obliviously going about her business. The last decade without her had been the longest of your life, yet you felt like nothing had changed, like you could hop into the passenger seat and continue as normal.

Droning out your anxiety, you stepped onto the road, moving as silently as possible toward the car. Clearly Agatha was completely at ease as she paid no attention to the figure drawing nearer.

You knocked on the window, not daring to analyse her reaction. "Good evening, can I take your order please?" You joked, having no idea how else to handle the situation. For all you knew, she could still be upset, and would order you to leave her alone. Or she could've forgotten the grudge entirely, and welcome you back.

Instead, she sat there motionless, mouth slightly agape. Her lack of response prompted you to continue. "I came to apologise- well actually I tried to ten years ago but you left before I got the chance." Glancing up at Agatha, you noticed she was frowning now. "But if this is a bad time I guess I can come back later?"

She said nothing, but appeared to be fighting her own internal battle. You fought the urge to say anything else, desperate to hear her voice.

The car door swung open abruptly, causing you to stagger back. By the time you'd regained your balance, Agatha had flung herself at you, her hat falling off in the process. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, reluctant to ever let go. Hugging her felt so familiar, yet each time was as memorable as the last.

You felt tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes and let out a watery laugh. Agatha invoked so many different emotions, you couldn't keep up. Simply being in her presence pacified any worries you'd had, quelled the betrayal you'd felt after she'd left.

"This is a bad time," She muttered. "but it doesn't matter." At her dismissal, you separated, seeing how her expression matched your own. "And I'm the one that should be asking for forgiveness." She smiled sadly, brushing back a strand of your hair.

"How about we both take the blame and move on?" You suggested, eager to move past this stage of your relationship.

"Sounds good to me," She nodded, her hands slipping onto your arms as she backed away. "and I will catch you up on everything that's happening, but right now I need you to hide in the trunk."

"God I've missed you." Sighing contently, you looked over to the car, accepting your imminent fate. "And fortunately I do still trust you."

You went to leave, but were stopped by her grip on your arm. "Hold on." She reached into a pocket, producing a silver band. Your ring.

"You've been carrying that round the entire time?"

"Just in case." She winked, grabbing hold of your hand and slipping the ring back on.

A warmth travelled through you, starting from the tip of you finger and diffusing across your entire body. She held onto your hand, bringing it up to meet her lips while maintaining eye contact. At the gesture, you tugged her into a kiss, the contact saying what you currently were unable to.

You knew there was a lot you'd have to work thought together, but right now, all that mattered was the feeling of her lips against your own.

"Next time you want a break, please tell me instead of vanishing."

She chuckled. "There won't be a next time." Then pulled you into another chaste kiss. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, dear."

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating. rockstar!au. e2l (exes n enemies!). angst. general.

tags / warnings. the angst is heavy in this chapter. there’s also mentions of drunk driving, a reference to drug use, and really, just a lot of sadness. proceed with caution!

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif and @periminkle i lob you both!

wc. 2.8k

chapter one.

You’ve barely moved an inch, rooted to the spot by fear and sadness and three long years of distance. It feels far too strange to be so close, to see him somewhere other than an illuminated screen. You know you should say something, do something - anything - but every tired bone in your body is telling you to run and that’s something you can’t do. Not after you’ve come so far.

So you take a deep breath - deep as you can manage without bursting the dam that packs itself with flimsy sticks and stones - and step forward. It feels monumental, far more than a single footfall.

He’s watching you, carefully, as he’s always done, with awe written into every line still visible beneath bandages. You see the way his jaw tenses, how the muscle works in agitation and hopelessness. He’s holding himself back, much to your surprise. You think you only recognize that because you know him so well.

And then you remember - you don’t know him at all. Not anymore.

Because he might seem like the same boy you’ve loved for most of your life, but he’s nothing but a ghost now. A figure from your worst nightmares, draped in white linen and gauze.

His hair’s far longer than it’s ever been, sweeping over the sharp contours of his cheeks, past the singular scar he’d gotten in third grade. It curls over his ears even in its dishevelled state, looking in desperate need of a cut and yet endearing all at once. The way he stares at you remains the same - intense, achingly familiar - and his smile - a little battered and bruised now - stretches like pavement, concrete and grounding.

You hate that it does something to your heart, the delicate frame of your rib cage rattling with the way the organ nearly launches itself out of your throat and into his hands.

You take another step. Jungkook doesn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he says, as if you’re an old friend, someone who’s come to hold his hand. As if he hadn’t broken your heart into a million pieces and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him since you managed to piece it back together.

How you’d managed to rebuild yourself after that, you’re not sure. You’d collected the broken bits, filled the cracks with gold, and mended it into something different. A bit flawed and imperfect, but whole - stronger and illuminated. You’d done that all on your own.

That doesn’t mean it doesn't still beat for him, just a little.

A part of you aches to return his words. It’s halfway off your tongue when you cut it off, severing it with a bite of your teeth and a resolve that just barely holds on.

You reach his side - still a good foot from the edge of the bed - and settle into the worn leather chair to his right. It’s comfortable, surprisingly so, but you can’t find it in yourself to relax. You’re ramrod straight, line of your spine strung like a bow.

It’s hard to look at him directly - to recognize the parts of him you’d once called yours - so you don’t, instead allowing your gaze to bounce across the room. There are large bouquets of flowers against the few surfaces, all larger-than-life arrangements that look at odds with the barren body that’s laid up beside you. You wonder, idly, who they’re from. Friends? Family? Your heart stutters. Fans?

There’s a bag and personal effects on the couch. Black leather, exorbitantly expensive, embossed with his initials on the interior pocket. The gift you’d gotten him for your last anniversary - the same one he’d nearly lost on tour despite the fact that it cost you more than you’d have cared to admit. Something like anger simmers in your stomach at the sight of it.

When he speaks again, you’re still glaring at the bag, unable to tear your eyes from the supple material and all the memories it carries.

“Pumpkin?”

The nickname tears you from your reverie. You can’t help the way you suddenly stare at him - all wide-eyed surprise. “What?”

Something close to relief floods his expression, spilling like wet paint over the curve of his mouth, the corners of his eyes. It spreads delight into every inch, unrelenting and unrepentant. “I said I missed you, Pumpkin.” He repeats himself not because you haven’t heard him but because he wants that reaction again - the one that tells him everything he needs to know.

You resent him for it.

“Please don’t call me that.” You wish it were stronger - that you were stronger. It’s hard.

You know you shouldn’t love him anymore and that none of this should affect you. After all, he’d thrown your heart into a blender with three shots of vodka and chased it down with some pills and cigarette smoke. He’d filled all the space you’d given him with other things - riches and women and thin white lines - and he’d had the audacity to be surprised when your own sadness had slipped in, too.

He’d always imagined you’d keep it locked up, held so closely he’d never have to face it. You’d thought so to, really. Hadn’t expected the way it spilled out regardless, too much misery to be kept in a little glass house.

There was only so much you could take before it all came crumbling down.

So, it’s hard. You love him because he’s him and you’re you and that means more than you can possibly put into words.

“Don’t call you what?” It’s almost patronizing, like he can’t quite believe his ears.

“You know what.”

He scoffs - a low, broken sound that catches halfway out, muffled by chain-smoking and not nearly enough sleep. “You never used to have a problem with it.”

“We were together then,” you retort quietly, sandpaper grit and burnt coffee bitter.

“Just tossing me aside then?”

You’re not quite sure where he pulls it from - the sheer, idiotic confidence he somehow fits into his words, framing them like you’re in the wrong. You wonder if it comes from years in the spotlight because it certainly wasn’t there before.

“Don’t say it like that.” What’s meant to be reproachful comes almost pleading, soft and sad and stained with saltwater.

“Then don’t tell me what to do.”

The silence that falls is paradoxical, miserable and fulfilling all at once.

It hurts in the worst of ways, sparking from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears. It feels like being outlined in neon - vivid pain in shades of pink and green that burn through your veins. Proverbial I told you so’s curl over your ankles and around your heart, little reminders that this is who he is now and every path would’ve led you here anyway. Parallel lines meant to converge only once before diverging once more.

“I’m sorry.” His apology feels infinite, as if it’s meant to make up for multitudes. “I just…”

Nothing further comes. You don’t know what you’d expected.

“It’s fine,” you say, even though it’s decidedly not fine. Absolutely nothing about this was even remotely fine. You weren’t even really sure why you’d agreed to come. You were still working through all your reasonings, turning them on their heads in hopes of receiving an answer other than the glaringly obvious ones that spilt out like salt grains.

“Is it?” Something about how he speaks, how the question seems so small, prompts you to meet his eyes. You wish you hadn’t.

There’s an infinite galaxy swirling in his irises, a million words he hasn’t spoken. They beg to be loved regardless, to feel even a semblance of the warmth your smile had once offered. It breaks your heart all over again, splitting it into pieces where the cracks and crevices haven’t quite fused together fully.

“I missed you, Pumpkin.” You don’t have it in you to rebuff him. Not when he reaches for you - a feeble gesture that pulls his figure close, entire bruised frame reassembling like a shuddering skeleton. He’s starry-eyed and intoxicating, drawing you into the Jungkook-shaped supernova you’re helpless against. “I missed you so fucking bad.”

“Jungkook.”

His name sounds like it’s about to break apart just like your heart, shattering wide open into a thousand splintered fragments.

“Please don’t do this.” Not again, you think. Not after all this time.

“I can’t,” he says and it’s shipwrecks and car crashes, misery in the form of broken teeth and battered bones and endless blue in his eyes. “I need you. I need you.”

It doesn’t escape you that you’ve heard these words before. You’d tucked that memory into the furthest corner, up and above your head in a shelf that you’d never touch. You’d folded it away into the box labelled JEON JUNGKOOK and tried to forget about it. You haven’t been able to.

It bursts out now, bouncing around your skull and in your ears - a feedback loop that won’t stop.

“Please.” You try again.

He’s gripping your hand so tightly - with a strength that feels far too much for someone only a day past a terrible accident - and it feels white hot and alive. Where his skin touches, he burns candle wax and coaxing - honeyed and warm. You imagine you’ll peel the drippings off later and be left with scars in the form of his hands. You wonder just how much more you can take.

“Please.” You try a third time. It’s feeble, frayed from holding on too long and too tight.

He hears it just as well as you.

“Stay with me. I don’t have anyone else.”

A part of you wonders how true that is. Surely, he had his family - his lovely parents that you’d practically considered your own. You can’t imagine they’d leave him here to rot.

Your resolve still crumbles, just a little, from the topmost pillar.

Ever the opportunist, Jungkook watches the fall of your Roman empire with rapt attention, hopeful as a new god. If only you weren’t so easy to read - full hand laid out on the table.

“What happened?” You pose the question in place of an agreement, words offered in the same instance you remove your hand - or try to, anyway. It doesn’t get very far. He seems adamant in keeping your fingers twined, knuckles stark white and riddled with tension. You wonder if he’s oblivious to it or if he just doesn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time.

So focused on the way he holds you - claims you in the iron shackle that he deems he needs - you almost miss the way his features contort, rolling through a myriad of emotion before settling into a defensive mask.

You hadn’t expected a bared soul or a confession of all his sins - you knew enough of them already - but you’d hoped for some semblance of honesty.

By his expression, you wonder if you’ll even get that.

“I was in an accident.” It’s short, terse and held tightly between his teeth.

You don’t mean it in any way but observational. “I see that.”

He still takes it the wrong way, scowl fitting like a glove. It steels his jaw and hardens the line of his mouth, the moulting of purple over and around his eye doing little to hide the storm that grows in his stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can feel a headache coming on - the first pinpricks of it just behind your eyes and at your temples. It forms in bits and pieces, a silhouette of a man that burns your retinas and makes your grit your teeth.

“Nothing, Kook.” It comes far more tired than you expect it to, weighed down by something you can’t quite place. It feels like you’ve run a marathon in this small room. You wonder if this is what it’s always like - draining and miserable and reminiscent of the hell of tenth grade gym class.

“I’m sorry.”

How many times has he said that now? Will it ever be enough? For him? For you?

You shake your head, a slow gesture that doesn’t really register at first. You’re so used to appeasing him - even three years later - and it comes of its own accord, bobbing your neck on your shoulders like second nature. You could hold it back, but you seem just as intent on repeating yourself as he does. “It’s fine.”

Maybe this is what the two of you are destined for - two lost lovers stuck on a merry-go-round.

“It’s not fine.” He’s released your hand now - you try to ignore the sudden, overwhelming disappointment that crashes into you like a tidal wave - and uses the bruised, bandaged one of his own to scrub down the side of his face. It’s a surprisingly tired gesture, as if all of a sudden the weight of his situation has settled on his shoulders. You barely catch the words that fumble out next, hidden behind the palm of his hand and the ink that swirls over his ink. “I just…”

You’re hopeful for a split second. Hopeful that he might let you in, despite the fact that you know you shouldn’t even be knocking at that door.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.” It comes so small, your heart clenches in your chest.

Then you wonder - what had he done?

“I won’t.” It’s not a promise but it sounds like one, filled with sunbeams and reassurance. You wish you could offer it any other way, maybe with careful regard and just the right amount of distance. Instead, you’re committed, poker chips piled high on green felt. All or nothing. You can’t help it.

“I fucked up.”

For the first time, you see him as he was those years ago - full of promise and hope, eager for a taste of the unknown. You see him as the Jeon Jungkook you’d known and loved, vulnerability threaded through all five feet ten inches of his frame.

You want to help him. You shouldn’t, but you do. “You can tell me.”

“We just finished the tour.” Pride colours his answer in glimmering strands of gold, threads that glint as he speaks. Charisma oozes out of every pore, shimmering like precious stones hidden behind his molars and within his stare. It’s easy to understand how he’s done so well for himself. “I was… celebrating. You know.” You certainly don’t, but you nod along regardless. “Things got a little out of hand.”

His attention seems far away, focused on something you can’t see. He continues carefully, cherry picking his words.

“I probably shouldn’t have driven. She—” Everything comes to a stuttering halt, his doe-eyed stare suddenly finding yours with alarm. “—I mean, they. Uh.” The damage is already done. You can feel it taking root - that same hurt you’d felt creeping into your throat before you’d stepped foot into this space. You swallow it down as best you can, tearing your gaze from his to train somewhere on the cotton that rests in his lap.

“Go on.”

He’s stuttering just a bit, because he can’t help it. He knows he’s been caught. You know he’s been caught. Gone is the Jungkook you’d once known. You see him for all he is yet again - a poor boy dressed in leather and lies. It hurts far more than it should.

“Uh. W-w-we were in, uh, the car.” The intensity of his gaze feels like two little laser beams. You can practically feel them burning through the top of your head as you refuse to meet his eyes. “I was— I was drunk and I didn’t— I didn’t see the other car.”

You’ve heard enough.

You wonder if the way you’re staring at him now is the way he’d most feared. It must be by how his face falls, crumples like a house made of playing cards.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You mean it - really, you do - but that’s the only thing you can give him.

For his and for your sake, you need to leave. Now.

“Please remove me as your emergency contact.” Your voice wobbles, falling apart as you speak. You worry the tears will follow soon after. You can barely make out his expression, the wetness crowding heavily along your lashes and turning everything into a strange amorphous blob.

It’s getting harder to breathe the longer you stay. Each step towards the door feels like your head on the chopping block. Once you cross that threshold, it’ll be severed clean off. You’ll leave your heart in this room, with this boy who hasn’t grown a single day in the last three years.

You think he must be speaking to you but you can’t make it out. Everything’s muffled, like you’re underwater and about to drown. It fills your ears and steals your senses, narrowing your focus to the polished steel door handle that’s just within reach.

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay.” It’s all you can manage before the dam breaks and you’re throwing yourself into the hallway and the waiting arms of your brother. You don’t know how to stop the noise that rips out of your throat, wet and desperate and barely coherent.

Yoongi was right - you shouldn’t have come.

author note. this was quite short but it didn’t feel right with another scene added to it. the next chapters will move the story along a lot more. ty for reading! 💖

tag list. @jalexa83

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Star Vs: Monster Bash Review or “Holy Shit Concentrated Into An Episode”

Hello everybody! I’m Jacob Mattingly and welcome back to my tom lucitor retrospective, where I go through every major apperance of everyone’s faviorite demon boy boy. In case you watch my schedule or reguarlly read this blog, and if so thank you.. especially you Kevin your a peach, you’ll know this one got pushed back two weeks because the day it was scheduled.. was the day AFTER the US Capitol Insurgency. So yeah an episode HEAVILY dealing with racisim, with a downer ending and a lot to dig into on the same day a bunch of racists stormed the captail to try and illegally keep another racist in office due to his bullshit claims the electoin was fraud, when it wasn’t he just can’t admit he lost, and their own idocy, violence and hatred was not something I could handle that day and I did some mickey mouse instead. But while the effects of said riot are still being felt, and unlike many republicans are saying we shouldn’t just “move on” or “try to heal” because the wound needs to be properly examined so the people who carved our country open with a rusty knife can be prosecuted for it, enough time has passed that I can get back on the horse and eat that horse when it comes to this episode. Also expect new tomtrospective weekly with some exceptions till it’s done. So with the real world reasons for the delay out of the way, on with the show. Previously on Star Vs: Star had a full subplot dealing with her super powered mewberity form, which was now golden and creating bunches of portals. While she wanted to just let it go loose on Eclipsa’s suggestoin, eventually it caused too much damage and Hekapoo was livid when Marco revealed he’d been covering for her and Star, realizing her friend was running himself ragged and ruined a friendship to help her, went to the source of all magic to fix things, metting the baby unicorns and with thier help gaining control over her form. While she does not use it given she JUST got it before this episode, it’s very relevant and makes her come off very stupid but we’ll get to that

In more directly relevant stuff, and our main event, we need to talk about Ms. Henious. Ms. Henious was introduced all the way back in Season 1 as head of St. Olga’s School for Wayward princsesses. She’s voiced by Jessica Walter, aka Malory Archer, Lucille Bluth and .. Fran Sinclair from dinosaurs?

I’ll process that later. Point is she’s a talented lady and voiced Henious perfectly. Henious ran the school as a nightmarish hellhole that stripped away princsesses indviduality when they became too much for their parents. Granted some did genuinely need to be reigned in, Pony went there and so did princess squishy a princess that tried to reinact the plot of face off despite her and star not even being the same species let alone looking remotely similar.. she also liked to say camera phone a lot despite all phones being camera phones for over a decade.

But again like most reform schools it’s a hell hole dedicated more to beating and psyihholically tourturing the rebel or asshole out of you than actually helping so Star and Marco broke in to break out. It naturally was difficult and strenious but in the process our heroes freed the other girls and Marco became feminsest icon Princess Marco. And Marco’s possible gender fluidity, or being trans, was well loved and while he was later said to hate the princess marco idntenity later.. I still dont’ quite buy it and feel Disney just wanted to nip any implications in the bud. Because their stupid and often non-inclusive to the queer community and have to be fought to get inclusivity in there half the time. Could’ve been clumsy writing and the writers not getting people really relating to marco possibly being gender fluid or trans, which given this season’s clumsy writing with marco in general I could buy, but i’m banking more on disney, where one executive can somehow stonewall gay representation because apparnetly one guy was the one who objected to enchanting grom fright.. and he can also go fuck himself with an old rhino’s horn. Which horn is up to you. Also we got two major hints at the future iwth her: a creepy mural star found of monsters and Henious being revealed to have cheek marks she supressed with her very own brainwashing machine.

Our heroes revolution had uintetional side-effects as St.O’s became a party school, though it’s students actually still came back better for the moast part. Henious was thrown out, reduced to sleeping in her car with her manservant gemini and sending Rasticore, a septarian mercinary afer star.. and then carrying his arm around when he got reduced to that.. not because of star but because of a rogue gift card. We don’t have time to unpack that, so she later tried attacking one more time in season 2, in one of the single worst episodes of the series, as she attacked and Marco’s Parents, instead of being concerned about the strange woman and man and lizard man arm attacking thier children, were more concerned about.. tehir cool neighbors. which could’ve been funny but just got frustrating, especially because Marco defended himself well, pointing out while he trashed her school, and gets merchandising rights from princess marco merch, she you know, brainwashed innocent to semi innocent children and was in general horrible and his parents are only humoring her because they were both out of hte loop, which due to this being shortly before star and marco leaves amounts to nothing, and because of the stupid plot.

So after that we got one more apperance in season 3 with her trying to expose marco as a boy to turn the princsses against him and get her school back.. but it was clearly a desperate and flimsy plan and they knew that already, and don’t care because their accepting. And again have done better without her so she gets thrown out and swore revenge on Marco, and here we are. Finally, since returning Star’s been more active in monster rights, replacing their old batshit insane and patronizingly racist expert with Buff Frog and starting a position to get royal signatures. Obviously this dosen’t sound like the most effective way to do things but it’s both teenager accurate and not the worst plan i’ve heard from a teenager this week.. granted that’s also because I covered a teenager trying to win back her good for not a lot 23 year old boyfriend by stabbing his current girlfriend he left her for a bunch, so it’s not exactly a high bar to clear. So outside of the golden form thing, which i’ll get to in the review proper why I brought that up, that’s what’s all built up to this the mid season finale. While Stump Day DID come after this, I chose to cover it before it since it both takes place before that and feels out of place in the very story heavy episodes after it. So with that out of the way we’ll be taking a look at the full episode and Star’s horrible, no good, very bad night under the cut.

We open at the Monster Temple, that place Ludo and Toffee were headquartered at for season 2 and the battle of mewni mini, where Star is holding a PARTY!

This.. this came up when I typed party. I don’t know why and I don’t WANT to know. I mean party is in the name.. is that a party line? Is this phone sex? No.. just no.. I don’t want dirty sweaty pigs in my phone sex.. I want Rocko like a gentlemen.

Now THAT’S hot. And honestly with what i’ve admitted about myself at this point, can you genuinely tell if i’m joking or not? Point is Marco and Rich Pidgeon are pitching in. Oh yeah those of you who didn’t get this far in the series, again hi kevin, might wonder wait whose that... well he’s a rich pidgeon, part of the pidgeon kingdom a kingdom of pidgeons that moved into another family’s castle, presumibly killed them, the book wasn’t specific on that and is now just a large bunch of pidgeons that don’t talk human except rich and get all creepy. They also have an excutioner which is as great a visual as you imagine.

That and Marco tried faking singing rich singing it by shving a pien in his foot and making him sign it.. he didn’t know he was fully sapient but still. But it’s also season 3 marco. The fact he didn’t accidently burn the castle down trying to impress star and being mad when she wasn’t happy he comitted arson is an achievement. Rich apparently holds a grudge but says just kiddng.. maybe.. i’d be prepared for a pidgeon with a machete if I were Marco. Thankfully i’m not.. I mean I hate myself enough.

Anyways the party is in full swing, as both monsters and mewmans are there. On the mewman sides are the royals we met at the Silver Bell Ball and on the monster side are a bunch of monster teens who look up to star we previously met during the Ludo arc in season 2. Pony arrives bringing a photo booth. And kelly!

And also Johnny Blowhole...

That dolphin what showed up a few times, including in the comic and the show, like most of it’s supporting cast, just sorta forgot. Also was going to be my porn name, just in case till it ended up attached to a fictonal teenager. Did.. did not think naming a character “blowhole” through did they?

Anyways the party is at “middle school dance” levels of awkward with the monsters and humans on other sides. Rock seems to be getting ready for a racist tyrade and singles out a yak like monster.. only to instead compliment the guy’s ripped jeans and the two compliment each other on horns... turns out the ones Rock always wear aren’t decorative but part of him due to a boating accident. Shame we never got more of this kid. that’s a good kid I tell you what. But honestly and since the moment is right given their all in this episode.. we never get a lot of the other royals outside of tom and star PERIOD. While Penelope would show up one last time and Larry would make a cameo for the most part their just.. background filler. Even this pettitoin arc was two episodes long. Rich is BRAND new and he gets way more focus.. and even he only gets to show up again for the big “Gondor calls for aid moment” in season 4 where star summoned whoever she could get on short notice. And is the ONLY royal to besides Ponyhead. Larry has an intresting enough design but the underwater kingdom only got featured in the deep trouble tie in comic that got cut short, and he wasn’t created yet so he doesen’t even show up for it. Jagg’s is such a footnote to the creators she dosen’t ever show up after this, and finally Rock, despite being star’s COUSIN and despite his kingdom being specifically mentioned as the hardest to make sympathetic to eclipsa during her own entirely ignored arc trying to win over the other kingdoms, and despite it being where River comes from and thus possibly providing some more insight into that awesome, awesome man.. we get nothing. Hell the Cloud Kingdom of the Ponyeheads ONLY gets two visits despite being home of one of the main cast.. god I just realized Ponyhead was part of the main cast.

So while I grapple with that, Star figures the punch is too warm and while Marco goes to get ice, she tries to remind him she can do magic and accidently puts it in your standard cartoon ice block.. and being star gets her tounge stuck. Thankfully her savior comes in the form of tom who being.. you know.. tom.. can simply melt it down and reminds her he’s been there the whole time. She’s just been a bit distracted with you know, trying to ease centuries of racial tension in a well meaning but ultimately pointless at best and risky at worst, partay. And dosen’t seem to get WHY she dosen’t want to dance.. even if they do have a REALY fucking cute moment where he leans in to kiss her, she catches him on it.. then blows a raspberry into his mouth when he does and smooches him on the cheek a bunch.

But the whole thing leaves him as a grumpus venting to marco and boiling the punch.. though at least Marco gets to use that ice now so silver linings and all that. And when marco tries to explain he tells him he dosen’t “talk politics”

My baby boy.. i’m so disapointed in you. And Marco points out as he leaves “your a prince everything you do is political. “. Which is.. HALF true. I mean tom going to the bathroom or eating a taco or taking his grandpa fo ra walk on his leash so he dosen’t gouge anyones eyes out isn’t political.. but he’s also not wrong that being the half demon half mewman son of two royals, DOES mean tom can come off political and one previous episode which he made a cameo in even had Tom being profiled, with a shopkeep who shoed out another monster kid tried that on tom.. only to realize who he was dealing with and beg for mercy he probably only got because Tom’s trying to be a better person now. And I don’t think i’ts even malcious on tom’s part, tom isn’t the most empathetic guy. He’s nice, he’s sweet, and once he knows you he can be really thoughtful.. but as we’ve seen throughout this retrospective.. empathy is something he’s struggled with. He stalked star because he didn’t see HER side of him creeply and obessively persuing her until Marco got through to him. He missed the point of his therapy assignment, seeing it as a goal to get passed instead of hwat brian intended: for him to geninely make amends with someone he hurt. He didn’t get that while star didn’t, at the time, want to date him ignoring her would hurt her... though that on’es not on him. He’s not a bad guy at all but he’s not at all great at reading people or being selfless.

He’s getting there, stump day showed him put stars needs before Marco’s and not out of any selfish dick measuring contest but because he knew what she wanted and what made her happy, but it’s hard to have empathy for a problem you don’t get how bad it is. To tom it’s just getting stopped once in a while and then having to glower or literally roast someone. To these monsters... it’s a life of being denied a decent standard of living, housing and being treated as a crminal and a beast just for existing. Tom has a fancy castle, loyal subjects, tons of money.. his privlage has insulated him from the real dangers of being the minority he is, of getting beaten up by the cops or arrested just for being a monster. And yes i’m using real world paralells.. but so does the end of this episode so shhh. It’s also a moral that hits home since as a white person, the last year has hit me HARD with just how much I didn’t know about the racial situation in america and how complacient i’d become. I wasn’t actively racist.. but like many americans I had the bad tendency to forget the horrible things that happpend on a daily basis to people of color in this country when it got out of the news. Privlage can blind you, and I cannot speak for if it does so for any real life minorties as i’m not touching a subject i’m not qulaified to talk on due to being super white with a ten foot pole, but I can speak for me that sometimes you just.. dont’ notice a problem unless i’ts happening to you. And while it has happened to tom it’s such a minor inconvience he probably just forgets about it and moves on. And these next two episodes with him, though we have some plot stuff to get too before we get back to Tom in feburary, are him getting his bubble popped and realizing just WHAT Star has been fighting against. And Star’s own privlage will be an issue later.. but we’llg et to that in it’s own time. So while Tom skulks off Rich startles Marco to get him to do his kung fun hand pose “the sword hand dance” and everyone uses it to dance which Marco understandably objects to until kelly asks him to dance. Cue adorable ship tease.. again this is why i’m thrownig in the kelco episode in the next batch: because the trajectory of this relationship eeerily lines up with tom episodes. No sense avoiding the ONE other episode about the ship , especially if i’m going out of my way to cover the Meteora arc on top of it and my other 80 projects. And regular coverage. And comissions. And you get the idea it’s a lot but i’m happy to do it.

Meanwhile we meet Slime, a friendly slime monster who introduces himself to penelope and her massive spider bite... and then drips a bit giving her the wrong impression. Thankfully.. this does not turn into the PG-Rated versoin of BLue from the heathers musical.

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No he just was offering to aloe up her spiderbite, and she’s all too happy to accept since her family never thought about it.. though as we see next season their not against it suprisingly. They are still dicks though. But not racist, though that’s a very low bar to clear and only gives them credit because mewni as a whole is pretty racist when it comes to Monsters. Point is I hate their parents but love these ship as the two share some ship tease and go downstairs.. only to get attacked. Meanwhile, Marco’s getting a goblin dog while being watched by Henious.. who despite Gemini’s objections.. no longer cares about her cheeks as she grins sinesterly and has him play her music, some heavy metal. FORESHADOWING!

Back at the party, Star adreses her public and is all proud and blushy.. till Penelope stumbles in, covered in scars, telling the crowd something took Slime.. and both sides start blaming one another, especially since it turns out a LOT of the monsters have gone missing. So with everything she worked towards and had achieved crumbling, Star calms the crowd and says she’ll investigate. Outside Marco is getting a goblin dog with roy, and wondering why he has strawberry, who orders a strawberry.. who wants that? And then decides to get one out of curiosity which I would but i’m also fat and love strawberries so i’m not a beacon of good decisionmaking.

So Star grabs him before he can roll that metaphorical dice and passes tom who tries to downplay her concerns and get her to go make out, thinking that’s what’s going on despite that.. making no sense, as a ton of them are missing and 6 is a bit much for polyamory.. I mean it works for some people

But not everyone can be a majestic space grandma whose also a caterpillar. And their too young to orgy so that’s out too. Point is Tom is an idiot this time and Star RIGHTFULLY calls him out for belitting her cause, not really caring about it, or the other teens who are in danger right now from god knows what and tells him to either help or get out of the way.

So while Tom licks his well earned wounds, Star and Marco journey into the depths and find a campsite with fresh dog eared pages indicating whoevers behind the abudictions is not only sapient, but still here... oh and it somehow gets worse as they find out WHOSE behind it.

And a second question you might be having: Who dis. Well this is Mina Loveberry, solarian warrior, whose a legend in Mewni and was one of star’s childhood heroes who she found wondering around homeless and clearly not mentally well in the park on earth.. and then tried to conquer it, but the electoral process stopped her... I don’t know why but a half crazed maniac being defeated by due electoral process makes me feel all warm and fuzzy right now, on this specific day this is coming out late on. Hmmmm.. INTERESTING aint it?

Point is Mina is a super powerful, super not in her right mind super warrior, who is naturlaly the kidnapper, as this episode also reveals she’s violently racist and assuemed something was up and whiel Star, who despite said cou still loves and respects her and gets she’s not well, tries to talk her down it increasingly becomes clear there’s no reasoning with her. And really with most racists.. there isn’t. Racisim isn’t something that’s rational and while some people are just indocrinated at a young age and CAN be turned around on it.. some are just so deeply up their own ass with hatred you can’t reason with them or save them. You just have to stop them. Via impeaching them, making sure they get called out and taken out of office.. or in this case using rainbows on them. But we’ll have to wait a second as a bunch of debris falls on mina taking her out!

.. Only to reveal Henious and while Marco’s willing to fight her and her posse, Raasticore grabs star and henious hooks him up to the brainwash machine, probably planning to kill him with it while playing the music

But before she can kill or do worse to one of our heroes.. the door behind them opens up.. and reveals a child’s play room.

And Henious.. gives up on the attack and enters, disturbing Gemini as she looks around in what’s easily one of the best scene sin the entire series: her slow walk, the way the animation follows her as it sinks in just what Metora might be.. and her picking up two dolls, the ones seen above.. her dolls to Gemini’s increasing discomfort. And while the animation is stellar and utterly moving as we slowly put the pieces together... it’s Walter’s delivery that REALLY STUNS.Gone is the harsh, unforgiving nightmarish woman we’ve known.. and instead is someone whose confused.. and remembering. Remembering WHY she has those cheek marks, remembering this was her room, her home.. and those were her parents. She remembers now.. and Mina rises to say of course she did “I knew you’d be back here one day meteora!” And as Gemini tries to refute this.. Meteora agrees with MIna, no longer henious at last freed form her deep and abusive brainwashing we’ll cover soon enough. And deeply confused. And as everyone else is deeply confused... Mina, not realizing this whole thing was covered up, again we’ll get to that soon too, spells it out for them and the audience in case you missed it. When Star asks how Eclipsa plays into any of this? “Don’t you ding dongs know anything? She’s her mamma!” (Marco and Star stare in shock as it sinks in) Marco: “Wait HENIOUS is a princess?!” Star: “she’s a butterfly”

Yeah quite obviously this is one of the biggest wham episodes in the entire series. In one moment we not only find out Henious is indeed a butterflfy as fans thought.. but Eclipsa’s daughter, half monster, and her entire existance raises questions of how much her family hid and if not WHO DID. I mean some of you alreayd know the answer but the rest of you can wait a week.. or a few mintues it’s hinted at soon enough. Point is Star has questions.. questions the violent racist whose pretty messed up in the head for a variety of the reasons and spent decades hunting her.. is not willing to hear out and instead prepares to smite her. While Star tries DESPERATLEY to talk her friend out of this it’s very clear Mina’s not going to listen... so Star rainbow fists her.. and prepares to face her former friend and inspiration for Meteora’s saftey and the answers she BADLY needs right now. Oh and just in case you thought “oh well the magical girl who sounds like amy sedaris can’t be that big a threat”... Yeah I didn’t mention broly for nothing.

Mina bulked up. Meet Solarian Mina. And like the Legendary Super Sayian form from Dragon Ball.. i’ts a beserker of a form that turns the already obessive and insane Mina.. into an unstoppable rage fuled killing machine with horrifying levels of power who can beat down anyone nearbye. And unlike Broly, where he was just a one in a million fluke in both versions... Mina was PLANNED to be this. The solarian program was something Eclipsa’s mom came up with, a series of spells that slowly turn the target into a rampaging super soldier. It’s like if Nuke from marvel comics, a vietnam era version of captain america who dind’t turn out so good, was INTETIONAL;

As you can see it removes fear.. but also the targets concisce, so Mina is incapable of empathy or being cure dof her racisim. Solaria turned her from a humble volunteer just hoping ot help and improve her station into the crazed monster star now faces. And as the Broly comparision should make clear... yeah Star dosen’t do so good and neither does Marco. She shrugs off Star’s hits and while botht he kids and meteora escape, both just piss Mina off MORE, and put star in more danger as she’s thrown around like a ragdoll. She then runs into tom who shows off his growht: While he was a dick up there.. unlike before where he assumed he was always the wronged party.. he realized he crossed a line and while he dosen’t know WHY he did, is still willing to apologize and presumibly talk about it. A bit clueless yes but it’s effort and his tone is sincre so it’s less “I’m apologizing for whatever I guess” bullshit and more “I genuinely don’t know wha ti did wrong please tell me so I can say sorry”.. which given how awkard tom is with people and how I pointed out his trouble relating to them over htis retrospective, is the more beliviable one. Naturally while Star does appricate it she’s kinda busy.. and when Tom see’s what’s going on he leaps in with NO hesitation. And given how close the luictors once were and are again with the butterflies it’s doubtful he hadn’t heard of mina so he likely KNOWS what he’s going up against..a nd dosen’t care. His girlfriend needs his help and this person’s trying to hurt her. That’s all he needs to kick her ass. Or try.. unlike with the z warriors.. our heroes don’t win this one. Tom tries a really cool move i’m dubbing the onyx coffin, a black coffin with runes and chains.. that does nothing to her. She breaks out and our heroes flee and Mina causes a massive ruckuss above, and the only reasons our heros don’t die.. is that the knights and Rhombulus of the high comission arrive. And since the high comission are going to be vastly important a refresher: The high comission were created by glossaryck, the little man who lives in stars book who used to be voiced by an asshole and next season is voiced by keith motherfucking david, to police the multiverse and it’s various issues. The four we know are Lekmet: a goat man who died last season and controlled entropy and could heal at the cost of his own life hence the death, Hekapoo, a close assiocate of marcos who controls the scissors beings use to cross dimensions and can do so herslef effortlessly, Omnitraxus Prime, a powerful and giant antler skulled being who watches space time and timelines and is voiced by Karl Weathers so...

And Rhombulus, a diamond headed he-man reject with snakes for hands becaue his dad is a well documented dickhead.. no really that’s the entire explination i the book of spells: Glossaryck turned his hands to snake to teach him the lesson i’ts hard to get through life with snake hands. He’s a gung ho guy who imprisons the wrost of the worst criminals thus his presence here as Mina clearly had a falling out with the comission and thus flees. So while Star and Tom are given blankets afterwords and some cocoa, Tom comforts her and admits if nothing else.. he gets it now, having been finally faced with the type of horrible shit monsters have had to deal with in the past and sees why his girlfriend tried hard to help it. But Star.. realizes she can’t fix this that easy. That she dosen’t know enough and clearly ther’es even more than she ever could’ve thought possible she has ot know if she’s going to fix this.. and that it’s not an EASY problem to fix. You really CAN’T fix racisim you can just make society better, but you’ll never be rid of people like Mina. Though this arc will.. yeah in one of the more baffling decisions Mina is given this huge reindrocution, with Amy Sedaris showing that while a very funny lady and a very talented actress as bojack had previously shown off for both.. she can be FUCKING TERRIFYING. But nope, she’s just..g one outside of a cameo, gets beatne off screen and dosen’t become big bad for a season. And I get it, the metora arc needed room.. but you had a WHOLE EXTRA EPISODE to have her defeat mina. Inastead you used it for Marco Jr which amounted to almost nothing and could’ve been saved for season 4 wher eit probably woudln’t of been terrible. I”ll get to that one some day. Point is it’s bad storytelling.

So yeah Star’s feeling lost, her family history is in flux, she got beaten badly, not horribly injrued but still lost handily, her party ruined and she was hit with the realization her plans were overly idealistic. Well meaning sure but a party was never going to cure this. Oh and Rhombluus naturally isn’t coming clean about why the temple is off limits or what’s going on here so that dosen’t help. And somehow.. IT STILL GETS WORSE. The Wizard Cops try to take the monsters in , profling them and not having done so and star thankfully talks them out of it but the monster kids turn down any afterparty or anything. They get she means well tbut hte moment’s over. And their not even excesivley sad.. their just.. used to the police treating them like this. Like less than human, like automatic suspects when THEY were the victims. IT’s nothing new... and god does this feel relevant as hell.

And this i where I meant Star’s privlage bites her: While not as bad as tom, it took some very harsh reality for her to see that solving racisim.. is not only nigh imposisble but not that easy. To her it was easy as a party and friendship and what’s worked before in her fairly shelted world. Advetnures or not she’s still a princess whose never experinced prejudice. In both worlds she’s in the majority. It’s probably why Marco conttoned on to monster racism in seconds during “Menipendence Day’ when Star hadn’t her whole life: to Marco, whose latix and thus dealing with all kinds of racist shit his whole life, it was easier to pick it up. He’s firmly part of his culture.. and thus probably firmly aware of the racism he faces. Star is so insulated she just dosen’t get it till it nearly beat her to death. So yeah Star’s at her lowest point, having failed to make things better, the answer to her questions being lost and not sure what’s real. Metora on the other hand as they dodge the cops.. has ascended. As Gemini calls her henious once last time.. she says that’s not her name.

“My name is meteora”

SHe’s been dreaming the wrong dream.. and it’s long past time she woke up.

Final Thoughts; Monster Bash.. is one of the best episodes in the series. Unlike a lot of Seasons 3 and 4 it dosen’t suffer from lack of proper payoff, as the next few episodes deal with how the fuck any of this is happening and why the fuck any of it happened. Mina’s absence nonwithstanding.. this is one of the series best and most gripping arcs. And the swerve is great: you think i’ts Henious doing the kindappings, only for her not to be the threat again just yet. And for her to be something far more. It’s just masterful, starting iwth fun hyjinks and ending in one of the best nad most nightmarish fights in the series if not the best, watching as our heroes slowly but surely LOOSE.. and THEN it gets worse. Out and out a must watch for the series and a sad sign of what it COULD’VE been had it moved past it’s worst insitncts next season and become what i should’ve been. Next week: We take a tom break as Eclipsa nad Mon investigate all of this and we get the SECOND biggest wham episode in the series.

Until the next rainbow, be excellent to each other.

#star vs the forces of evil #star vs #star butterfly #marco diaz #tom lucitor #startom #rich pidgeon #kelly #lilica ponyhead #meteora butterfly #gemini #mina loveberry #slime #penelope spiderbite

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uraharasandals · 4 years

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Hey could I have a request for Akutagawa and his female s/o also being work partners in the port mafia and her ability is fire, like Dabi from BNHA? Like it damages her body when she uses it cause she isn't immune to her own super strong flames? And angst and fluff?

Hi anon! First off, I know you requested angst and fluff but I'm sorry I went a bit overboard with the angst and there's probably zero fluff available here! Nonetheless, I hope you like it :) and it hopefully does stick to what you were looking for <3 feel free to request again if it doesn’t!

Also there’s apparently a formatting issue that prevents me from separating paragraphs. Just for clarity’s sake, I’ll add in // to show that it’s meant to cut off there.

He knew you were more than capable than taking care of yourself. That was one of the main reasons you caught his eye after all; he wouldn't even cast so much a glance towards the so-called 'strong', and definitely not the weaklings. Furthermore, you were to be his partner. The notion of doing otherwise would be ridiculous.

Akutagawa supposed that, at the beginning, your strength was what attracted him. And that was true; he didn't care for something so flimsy such as feelings. But as time passes, he felt...some kind of warmth from his chest whenever he looked at you. And somehow, he had became captivated. The flowing ink of your hair. The determined fire kindling in your eyes. The lithe form of your body, resembling that of a hunter as you fight. Most importantly, the outline and flash of flames as you release your ability, and the writhing form of the enemy in agony, before crumbling to ash. Beauty in its rawest form.

(People often say that Akutagawa was a ruthless killing machine with no regard for human emotion and aesthetics. That wasn't true. It takes a certain aesthetic to captivate him, and somehow, you were it.)

And captivate him you did. He always thought that fire had a strange beauty in it; a fiery flare of glory and then dying down just as quickly. Exactly the way he meant to be in battle; and the irony of his partner wielding flames as her ability did not escape him. He lives, he fights, and he dies. What more joy would a partner holding the same principles bring him?

Except, the irony of your ability was not felt much, much later.

It was a stupid thing. The most stupidest thing really, but he had been so accustomed to you watching his back and fighting alongside to him that he had no qualms about tearing his eyes away from you, and the lack of necessity to protect you made having a fighting partner so much more easier. Until Akutagawa - he who does not have faults in battle except the occassional temper and frequent coughs - stumbled, and somehow found himself surrounded, paralyzed. How did that happen, again?

And like an emergency flare, you came to his escape in a burst of fireworks, anger and worry taking over, successfully incinerating the enemies in columns of fire. What he did not expect, however, was you burning up as well.

" - gawa-senpai! Are you okay? I heard a scream - ________-san!"

Higuchi's gasp was as annoying as ever, but for once was he glad the woman was there; cradling your body, his mind was in such a state of shock that nothing made sense to him except the heat of your frame, much warmer than usual, as if your flames were coursing through your very own veins. Thankfully, your body was intact, but Akutagawa had been through enough battles to recognise first and second-degree burns when he saw them. His hands felt cold - probably so damn hot that his system couldn't handle the shock - but he ignored it. Because nothing mattered at the moment except reviving you.

For the first time, Akutagawa felt a sudden panic seize his heart.

"Akutagawa-senpai." Someone was shaking his shoulder. He was still in shock, looking at your limp form, the feverish red on your face, the patches of pink skin on your wrists where the flames were the strongest, the movement of your chest that reassured him that you were, at the very least, alive, the --

"Akutagawa-senpai. The medics are here."

He unwillingly let the medical team take you away, lifting your body onto a stretcher and carrying you onto a white van. What he only registered though, was your hand dangling over the side of the stretcher, the soft and warm skin that he had loved so much to caress and hold between his own now littered with burns and the red characterizing heat. For a split second, he thought he could see faint growing crimson lines where your veins were; another blink of his eyes told him it was his imagination.

"Akutagawa...senpai?"

Only Higuchi's quizzical face made him realise that he was still kneeling with his ears ringing, and his head full of confusion. Akutagawa stood up, stumbling slightly - but waving his assistant away as she surged forward to help him - and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the invading smell of smoke that just brought back memories of your burnt body, he cleared his throat, and spoke.

"I'm fine. You're in the way, Higuchi."

"I-I'm sorry, senpai!"

Annoyance. That was what caused a sharp surge of heat inside his chest, before he felt a stab of guilt. Ryunosuke! Treat her nicely, will you? For some incomprehensively stupid reason, your voice suddenly surfaced from the back of his mind, chiding his apparently 'distateful' behaviour towards his subordinate. How could you be so mean to a girl?!

Strange. He'd never really paid attention to how he treated Higuchi, not exactly. After all, she was a pawn of the Port Mafia and someone expendable. Besides, it didn't matter exactly how well or how bad he treated her, because it made no difference. But now, as he straightened up and glanced back, just slightly, he saw a flicker of hurt flash over Higuchi's face before she re-composed herself.

In that split second, he thought he heard you scolding him again.

Loneliness. For the first time, possibly since he was born, Akutagawa started to have a sense of hollowness spreading from his chest, and numbing the rest of his body. He wondered what it was, before a teasing remark by Tachihara gave name to it.

At first, he thought it was ridiculous. How could he feel lonely? But then, after staring at the never-ending pile of paperwork stacked on the desk in front of him, Akutagawa felt a sense of ache in his heart, and he couldn't concentrate on his work. Not any more. Not when all his head was full of was you.

Usually the go-to situation for anything remotely like this was to initiate a sparring session with someone, anyone in the Port Mafia. Or even in the Detective Agency, because despite their love-hate relationship, Akutagawa had to grudgingly admit that a fight with the man-tiger left him somewhat...more refreshed than before. But apparently, that solution wouldn't work today. Not just because of the fact that you were stuck in the Port Mafia hospital and he wouldn't want to go anywhere else (forcing him back into his office already took a ton of energy and he had Higuchi to thank for that, yet again), but also there was a sense of strange weariness clinging to his limbs, dragging him down and making him listless. The sense of tiredness reminded him of that time he fought with Chuuya, when he was hit by gravity and forced onto the ground. This wasn't like that either, though. At the time, he was pumped full of adrenaline (likely because it was in the heat of battle, but still) and was determined to get back up. Now, he felt like lying down and not getting up, not even to ease the strange ache in his chest.

Akutagawa wondered if there was something medically wrong with him, and whether he should head to the hospital for a check-up. However, instead of freaking out over him like she always did, Higuchi merely placed a cup of warm tea by his side, gathering some of his completed paperwork, before quietly slipping away. Oh well. If Higuchi thought it was no big deal, then surely there wasn't something too serious with him.

For the first time, he yearned for your presence next to him, in the office, by his side.

// "Ryunosuke, I recently figured out how to properly use my ability! Do you want to see it? I'm sure it'll be great in supporting you in battle."

"Later, ________. I need to finish a report for the Boss - "

"Sure! See you at the practice rooms then! I'll ask Higuchi-san to - "

To what? That was a long ago memory, and when Akutagawa came to he found that he was still at his desk, but head side down on the wooden surface. The blasphemy of falling asleep at work didn't even occur to him as he blinked sleepily, before realising the sun had gone down and it was dark outside. He shifted, attempting to sit up straight, before feeling the weight of something on his shoulders. A blanket. Someone must've snuck in, saw him all tired, and drapped a blanket over his shoulders.

And that someone had left a note at his desk as well, in Higuchi's neat handwriting. Before his brain could fully wake up, Akutagawa was already out of the door after skimming the message through once, bolting down the corridors to the hospital, with his mind full of, and only about, you.

______-san had waken up. You can go see her now.

He didn't notice the small darkened dots on the paper, already dried, but clearly discernible as tears.

"_________" The first thing that left his lips was your name, right after he burst through the doors like a madman. The hospital staff remained unfazed even from the commotion, and merely left the room silently, leaving him alone with you.

You. Akutagawa had been yearning for your touch ever since the day you were taken from him, but somehow at the sight of his partner bandaged up and confined to the bed he froze up, limbs suddenly uncooperative. At the sound of his banging around and the sudden departure of the medical staff, you weakly raised your head to see what was going on, before focusing your eyes onto the man in front of you. "Ryu....nosuke?"

The weakness in your voice made his heart felt like it was going to break into a thousand pieces, though he held it in with a swallow, before forcing himself forward. "It's me." Akutagawa perched cautiously onto the chair at your bedside, before mentally chiding himself for the lame reply. "H...how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm banged up in ten different parts of my body." Somehow, you still managed a weak smile in that kind of situation. "I'll be fine though. I heal soon."

He supposed you wanted to cheer him up, though the false sense of cheeriness was overwhelmed by the slight trembling in your voice. "You should rest. You were pretty hurt earlier on." Akutagawa insisted, and there was a weak chuckle letting itself through your lips. Looking at your severely injured state, he suddenly felt a surge of anger. "Hey, _____. Who amongst those bastards did this to you? I'll go back and hunt them down."

"No one did, Ryunosuke." Was it his imagination, or were your eyes strangely bright under the light? "It was me. My ability did this."

"Do you mean your ability defected - "

"No." You cut him off, and turned to look him full in the eyes. It wasn't his imagination then; your eyes were suspiciously bright, and a tear spilled over, trailing down your cheek. Before he knew it, Akutagawa had reached out to brush it away, and you caught his hand midway. "It's a stupid side effect. If I use it too hard, it'll come back to hurt me." He was startled at the sudden revelation, caught off guard and wasn't sure what to reply. Apparently you took that as his silent rejection, because your trembling hand had let go of his. "I know. It's a defect that rendered me weak and defenseless. I know you don't like people who are weak, Ryunosuke, so - "

Akutagawa wasn't sure what had came over him, but instinctively he had surged forward and kissed you. Maybe it was the habit of you doing so to shut him up endearingly that caused him to do so. Maybe he was trying to release that pent-up sense of exhaustion and frustration from the afternoon. And yes, maybe he was desperate.

When he finally pulled away, he saw that the sadness in your eyes had already given way to surprise, before a sense of love that he'd only saw when he was heavily injured or sick. Which was strange, because you were the one heavily banged up now, and yet...

"Thank you," You whispered, tears already spilling over onto the bandages. "I'm sorry."

At the feeble apology, Akutagawa felt his heart torn apart again, but the words struggle to get through his mouth, getting stuck in his throat and effectively choking him. So he didn't say anything of substance. Instead, he planted a palm onto your hair, patting it somewhat cautiously and hoping you wouldn't feel much pain. "Get some rest, ________."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa imagines #bsd #Akutagawa #Fic #Anon #asks

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verai-marcel · 4 years

Text

Life Level Up (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Neighbor AU, Part 2 of 3, 18+)

Tags, Summary, & Notes are in Part 1.

AO3 link is here, baby girl.

Word Count: 1764

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

Chapter 2: Low Honor

You stared at your calendar, wondering how three months had gone by without you noticing.

To be fair, you definitely noticed that time was passing, just not how much of it. After all, you had thought that Arthur’s thirst for you would’ve died down a bit, but most days, Arthur would be pulling you aside and groping you, touching you, trying to get his hands on you in any way possible.

You eventually had to lay down some rules, especially since you worked from home two days a week and he came back two hours before your shift ended. You would stay in the bedroom and work there while he stayed out in the living room. He used to be allowed to come in and hang out with you, but after one too many handsy moments, you had banished him and locked him out of the bedroom.

There had been some arguments, naturally. You expected a few rocky discussions about finances, but when you explained to him why he should open up a bank account with you for living expenses, he finally agreed, even though he had dragged his feet the first couple months about doing it. You were still trying to pay him back for half the expenses the first month because he had insisted on paying them for you, citing that he had asked you to come live with him. He was oddly selfish in a giving way. Although you pride yourself on being an independent woman, needing no one to help pay for you, part of you was tickled pink by the fact that Arthur was willing to pay for a whole month’s worth of expenses because he felt like he was responsible for you moving in with him. The other part of you was truly annoyed by his stubborn male behavior, making you wonder why he was so old-fashioned sometimes.

So time passed as it got closer to your birthday. Suddenly it was a week away, and you realized that you had no plans, and Arthur hadn’t mentioned anything. You didn’t expect him to remember that it was your birthday; after all, you had only told him the date once and he had immediately taken you out for dinner on a whim. He wasn’t exactly the planning type, you’ve realized, so if you wanted something done, you’d have to do it yourself.

But at this point in your life, all you really wanted was a nice dinner and a good back rub.

***

On Friday, the day before your birthday, you opened the bedroom door, done with your work for the day, and was surprised by the smell of fried chicken. With your headphones on, you had not heard the sounds of Arthur leaving to pick up food. Speed walking to the kitchen, you saw Arthur taking out boxes of Korean-style fried chicken. Your mouth watered.

“Hungry? Got you yer favorite, the soy garlic. And those franken tots.”

You squealed with delight. Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his broad back.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Arthur replied with a chuckle. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

The two of you hadn’t sat down and watched a good horror film in a long time. The two of you sat in the living room, eating delicious food, watching the movie, enjoying this delightful date night in. This movie was a little predictable though, so about halfway through, you were already wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, sitting on his lap, your eyes starting to droop.

“Tired, baby girl?”

“Yeah, a bit.” To be honest, the movie was boring you somewhat.

He leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and shut the TV off.

“We gotta put the food away,” you mumbled.

“Later,” Arthur said as he effortlessly picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. Laying you down, he started taking off your clothes.

“Arthur?”

“Shh, lemme take care o’ ya.”

You let him take off all of your clothes, his hands running all along your skin. As you woke back up, you realized with both anticipation and slight horror where this was going.

“Wait, wait, I haven’t shaved in a couple of days!” you griped.

“I don’t care about that,” he said with a soft laugh as he skimmed his fingers along your thighs. “Unless you do.”

You nodded. “Gimme ten minutes.”

Arthur sighed, but he gave you a patient smile. “Alright, ten minutes.”

Rushing towards the bathroom, you quickly showered, shaved, and lotioned up, not wanting your skin to get dry. You came back out, smelling of citrus and wildflowers, naked and feeling much more sexy than you did eight minutes ago.

Arthur had completely stripped his clothes off, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, his cock in his hand. He was stroking himself slowly as he watched you walk in, his eyes intense, his smile darkening with lust.

“C’mere. I gotchu somethin'.”

You walked over to him as he reached beneath the sheets to pull out a flimsy scrap of fabric. He tossed it to you casually. Finding the straps and holding it up, you realized it was a sheer lace babydoll dress that would barely reach your thighs. It was a beautiful sky blue color, with a darker blue ribbon tied into a bow at the back that would go around under your breasts. Looking up at Arthur with his smug grin, you cocked your hip and held up the lingerie between your thumb and finger.

"Is this more for you than me?"

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout?" he asked, feigning innocence. "That would never fit me."

You laughed. With a big smile on your face you pulled on the babydoll dress. Noticing that Arthur had closed his eyes, you made sure you had it on properly before you called out to him.

"Ready, Arthur."

His eyes opened, and you swear his cock twitched at the sight of you. His mouth slightly open, he could only stare hungrily at you for a few moments as his brain tried to form words. Finally he just crooked his finger, fully expecting you to obey.

You sashayed over to him, crawling onto the bed, making your hips sway as you made your way onto his lap. Swirling your hips in circles, only occasionally dipping your body down to slide your wet slit against the tip of his cock, you kept teasing him, touching your breasts and moaning as he watched, keeping his hands on your thighs until finally he could take no more. Grabbing your hips, he positioned you directly above his dick and pulled you down, making you take his entire length in one powerful stroke.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped.

He slapped your ass. “Ride me, doll.”

You started to ride him, but your slow, deliberate movements weren’t enough for him. You knew you were getting him riled up, so when he finally grabbed you and rolled you onto your back, you grinned.

“Think this is funny?” Arthur growled before he grabbed you by the ankles and started fucking you hard. Spreading your legs, he grinned back at you. “Look at’chu, my pretty li’l whore. Like my cock, don’tcha?”

You could only moan as he used you thoroughly, angling his hips every few thrusts to make sure you felt him from all directions. Twisting your body to the side, he kissed your leg as he continued to ram into you, reaching down to shift the light fabric aside to grab a breast. He squeezed, watching with satisfaction when you gasped.

“Aren’t you done yet?” you taunted.

“Shut yer mouth,” he retorted, turning you over onto your stomach. His hand wrapped around your neck as he rutted into you from behind. “My slut doesn’t get to talk back to me.”

“I’ll say what I want, when I want,” you said, though it sounded more breathy and less threatening. You loved it when he got like this, using you as his fuck toy, just like he did the first time. You let out a soft grunt when his body came down and crushed yours into the mattress.

“Yer goin’ to be screamin’ my name,” he growled into your ear. “Goin’ to breed you, my li’l whore. Fill you with so much cum, it’ll be drippin’ from you all night.”

“Fuck, Arthur, oh god, Arthur!” you gasped as you came from just his dirty threats, your body spasming underneath him as he pulsed inside of you, his promise to you fulfilled as he pushed his cock as deep into you as possible, his hips smashing into yours.

“Goddamn,” he moaned. “Fuckin’ take it, baby girl.” His hips jerked forward a few more times before he stilled, his breath heavy in your ear. “Good lord, yer so good.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, Arthur’s weight on top of you a pleasant feeling, like a weighted security blanket. All too soon, however, he rolled off of you. You kissed his forehead before you started to get up to clean yourself off, but he pulled you back by your waist.

“Hold on a second.”

You watched as he turned over and reached towards his nightstand. You heard him pulling open the drawer, rustle around and then close the drawer before rolling back to face you. He held up a small black velvet box.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled.

“Just a present,” he said, handing you the box. “For yer birthday.”

You opened it; inside was a pink gold ring with a brilliant red gemstone. Your eyes started to water, it was so beautiful.

Arthur shifted closer to you, holding your hands in his. “Now this is just a gift, I don’t want to force ya into anything you ain’t ready for.” He took a deep breath. “But if yer ready, let’s get married.”

Unable to help yourself, you broke out laughing. Of course it’d be like this; he wasn’t one for dramatic romantic gestures. Arthur was down to earth, uncomplicated, and direct. When he gave you a confused look at your laughter, you leaned over to kiss his cute nose.

“I’m ready, Arthur. If it’s with you, I’m ready for anything.”

He smiled, took the ring out of the box, and slipped it onto your finger. “You’ve made me so damn happy, I think I’m ready for another round.”

Tossing the box over his shoulder, he rolled over on top of you and started rolling his hips, ready to give you more of his unending love.

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

Epilogue here.

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur x F!reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #lemon fanfic #nsft #neighbor au #neighborly affection #modern au

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bellaswansjuul · 4 years

Text

Newborn Army Lives

Victoria and Riley picked people (mostly teenagers) that nobody would miss for their army. They all had been dealt a shitty hand in life. Is it me or is that extremely out of character for the Cullens to brutally murder a bunch of brainwashed kids? And the Volturi’s actions didn’t make any sense either.

Also, we’re never given an exact number but from what I counted on the wiki eighteen newborns were named in The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner so I just added another eighteen.

so...thirty-six bouncing baby vampires!

So here’s what I propose:

The Cullens don’t kill the newborns. They incapacitate them. Yes, there is still the epic battle and the newborns have been ripped apart (which is traumatic and the Cullens feel bad but it was necessary) but they’re not burned.

They don’t dismember Bree

She’ll be used as a witness

The Volturi swoop in and the Cullens present the bodies of Victoria and Riley

Jane interrogates/tortures Bree to get information

Learns that none of them knew anything about the laws

The fact that the newborns are in pieces and not ashes aren’t lost on the Volturi

Jane makes the comment about the Volturi not giving second chances

Which is bullshit because the newborns never even got their first chance

Jane agrees to allow the newborns to live. The caveat being that for one year starting on that battlefield the Cullens are responsible for the newborns

Meaning that if any one of them step one toe out of line they’ll rain down hell upon their heads

Jane didn’t do this out of the goodness of her own heart

She had orders

With Carlisle not only generally well-liked amongst vampires (he has quite a few powerful friends), he also has one of the most powerful vampires in existence in his coven

He was a threat but they couldn’t take him out directly

They half hoped the newborns would do it for them. It’s why they didn’t squash the newborns earlier

But they also knew that skilled vampires with experience will win against the newborns any day

They also, to some degree, know Carlisle and his bleeding heart

So they send Jane along with orders

If the Cullens killed all of the newborns, great! Their job has been done for them

If they spared - kill the spares.

It’ll send a message

If they spare more than five newborns, allow the spared ones to live. With the ultimatum of the Cullens being responsible for them as if they created them

Why?

Well it kills some birds with one stone

If the Cullens fail to control the newborns properly (which the Volturi are sure they will) then the decimation of the Cullens would look justified

They could also say that the Cullens knew what they were agreeing to and accepted the potential consequences

They could get rid of the threat and wouldn’t have to deal with the political implications and backlash of the Volturi killing the Cullens for either no legal reason or a flimsy one

The fact the Cullens spared all the newborns was both unexpected and delightful

Aro also wanted to see how it all played out

So he allows it

Breaking Dawn is the Cullens trying to wrangle the thirty-six feral newborns

Edward gives in and Bella is changed and joins the rest of the newborns in training

The Cullens move to the most remote place you can think of

but they still have a hard time controlling all of them (duh)

So they call their vampy friends and ask them to help them out with their pack of feral vampires

Jacob’s pack - Jacob, Seth, Leah, Embry, and Quil - are there too.

Cue vampire-werewolf solidarity

-Insert hundreds of headcanons about The Year of everyone trying to house train thirty-six buck wild baby vampires but this is already too long-

And The Year draws to an end and they did the impossible.

now where the f u c k do the fully grown and matured vampires go now

Some newborns are adopted into covens that helped “raise” them

Others go off by themselves and become solitary nomads

Others form covens among themselves and leave

Some take up the vegetarian diet

others don’t

During the year Bree Tanner and Diego (he’s alive), and Dean grow close to Rosalie and Emmet

the five create an entirely new coven

With Rosalie as the mother figure and Emmet as the father

Renesmee’s name is instead Carlie (a nod towards the canonical name but less gross) and she’s a newborn that develops a close relationship with Edward

They also adopt another newborn, Mason

Essentially Bella, Edward, Mason, and Carlie form a coven of their own and leave to start a new life

Alice and Jasper also adopted a newborn, Heather, and go off on their own

Don’t feel too bad for Carlisle and Esme, having to say goodbye to their adopted children

They adopted four newborns

Warren, Logan, Daniella, and May

Plus their older children visit quite often

Sometimes separately

Sometimes it’s a huge family reunion

Bella’s and Edward’s wedding happens at the very end when they’re all fairly certain she won’t massacre the human guests. Her supernatural beauty is passed off as god tier makeup and contacts

Oh, and Jacob doesn’t imprint on a baby!

Or on this version of her either

And they all lived happily ever after

#twilight #edward cullen #volturi #bella swan #twilight reimagined #twilight revival #rosalie hale #jasper #emmet #esme cullen #carlisle #alice cullen #newborn vampires #they all deserved better #newborn army #headcanon

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perkwunos · 5 years

Text

Writing is an extension of the act of conversation. It has as its fundamental starting point our performances of our personality through the codes that have been collectively developed. No one opens their mouth to speak without some notion of an audience to speak to, and we only start speaking to ourselves once we’ve already learned to speak to others. We gain a self, a coherent personality that each distinct mental act flows into and works to maintain, by facing other selves and being recognized by them. When we speak to ourselves we speak to the echoes and refractions of all the other people that have contributed to the creation of this personality, and--most importantly--we speak to the future audience that our personality will be recognized by. We quietly and privately develop ourselves as a performance for others. Writing explores this space, this virtual reality, in the interstices between our becoming and being, our becoming a subject and being an object.

Words have a certain expected weight to them that can leave the end-products of our writing disappointing. When I first anticipate what I can write about, it feels like everything can be rationally connected together, the disparate sources capable of being aligned into coherent paragraphs of argument. But then I refrain from doing the full work of plotting it out, remaining content with the abstract possibility and putting off the real action. When I finally do try to write it out, I’m left unsatisfied, knowing that there is far more to what could be expressed. This gap in our movements, in what’s left unsaid and remains as a promise, is always present, haunting. I often leave statements unfinished and hope that the other person can fill it in. This hope may be a fundamental ground for any communication--or at least any communication through something as flimsy and arbitrary as words. We want to reach out to one another, we want to form analogies between our experiences and share in expectations, connecting the stories that play such an important role in our deciding how to act. This takes a faith, or--to put it in more precise language--an immersion of ourselves in our desire.

Our acts of communication are acts of desire, guided by a purpose that presents itself to us in a virtual space: a presence in an absence, a general, a type of thing that we may like to experience. In expressing ourselves we leave some residue of this generality behind, which exceeds beyond any finite, concrete accomplishment we might have made, so that in any act one can always find some spark of life beyond the current life. We offer this super-living of our meanings beyond ourselves to be interpreted by others--and in doing so we surrender ourselves to the attractive power of the type or general and hope its attraction is felt in others. We have faith in the presence of what’s absent--not just for us, but for others, for the entire fabric of the material universe we work with. This is the sense in which the supersensible really does exist immanent in any becoming, the supernature of desire’s pull towards potential.

But our responsibility must include not acquiescing in what’s only abstract and general; we cannot stay content with a meaning that is a pure beyond of any given moment. There is no beyond just on its own, but only in the dynamism of the living present that can carry it. We are disingenuous about the sources of our meanings and why they become objects of our desires when we focus on abstractions without a concrete context for them. What we signify and hold up to others as potential futures captivates us because they are potential futures we might share with those others. We learn to desire what we do, first of all through the habits we inherit in our bodily continuity, and then, conceptually, in our relations to the others it will affect. And yet the creativity of our intersubjective encounters is the promise that these meanings are never just housed in these particulars: there are always new events. The forms are in the facts but the possible forms exceed the given facts and haunt over them. We reach out to the infinite, the supernatural existence of this potential--so that it can be brought down to earth.

We and the others we stand in relation to are a dynamic combination of what is actual and potential. We base our expectations on our memories of concrete encounters with others, but our expectations then reach out into the future and thus have abstract generalities as their object. Our personhood is such a general, a mask that we hold up and that channels the multiplicity of our desires into a coherent structure, into a promise that allows for certain expectations to be held about our behavior. Each person is a vortex that, through their particular expressions of energy, connects them to the entire universe, but also at each moment expresses that there is more to come. When we interact with others we are interpreting what they will do, the directions they point to in the future--and we invest in some outcomes we see emanating from specific people. Personhood is our way to facilitate and intensify this interpretation, and in doing so intensify our investment and thus our capacity for satisfaction. We are our value-experiences, our intensities, and all our culture is a means, as meaning, to enhance how we encounter the world intensely.

Sometimes our interpretations fail us. We lose the energy to hold up the entire scheme, and the momentary high of intuiting the coherence is gone, leaving us with only fragments. In the same way, our real encounters with others can be remote from the possibilities we imagined they held, so that the person we found in the contingent happenings becomes disjointed. The romance of life is in maintaining the beyond of our current moment as a real, coherent lure: in propositions that we really believe in and find connections to in our lives. This lure then suffuses everything and is not just a promise for us but an energy that flowed into us and overflows into everything else. Someone who’s in love finds themselves wandering through scenes, enchanted by them, appreciating every small thing. The particular is appreciated insofar as our valuative energies are fully engaged in generals. Take this valuative engagement with the general away, and the particulars themselves will also disappear--or, at least, they will no longer feel real. The real present is full of the lure of the future. Dejection comes in the draining away of these meanings. The lure no longer engages us as fully as it did; the world seems lacking, a transparent window through which the given environment simply moves on. Nothing is new under the sun--or so it seems--and possibilities feel excluded from the world we confront as an already-formed, alien block.

Maybe we’ve allowed our writing to continue on under a misguided pretension, seeing it as too much its own self-sufficient product. The letters that make up a sentence, or a paragraph or a verse, are only a small element of the work: there is the living interpretation of them that forms in a singular performance, even just the performance of someone reading them to themselves. Every word is not just a purely arbitrary, abstract meaning, but also dependent on certain existential relations in which memories, particular investments, real people flow into the whirlpools and become enmeshed with the abstract: a narrative process. There is no reproduction pure and simple of what really matters here, only the reproduction of a certain abstract rhythm or template into which our lives can flow. We, in our bodies and with our imaginations, retain all the power--and all the responsibility.

In the middle of the summer, the evenings can grow into a dark pale green with thunder clouds, all of our expectations get stilled until the rain comes. There’s a continuous energy between our moods and the environment; what we are ends up being what’s outside of us; we can all experience moments when our words no longer feel like arbitrary things detached from nature, but instead like connecting points to the generative power of the world. Just as the rain creates a pattern in running across the streets, our lives in their unceasing movement participate in a presentational space: we are an imaginary, haunting presence that overwhelms the influx of our given environment and bends it into one perspective--and we do this again and again in every moment that we live. The vitality can never really end. Even as it’s always new and different it remains the expression of the same infinite source of meanings, feeding into the whirl of experience.

#well this ended up longer than I thought it would be but I'm still gonna post it

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dupswriteblr · 4 years

Text

There’s Something In The Woods At Camp Goodwill

tw: gore, body horror, vague, non-explicit implications of consensual sex, brief mention of sexual assault.

if there’s anything else youd like tagged, please let me know!! stay safe

Seventeen-year-old Katie Nicolson was not the first person to fall for Zediah Rennel, and she was sure that she would not be the last.

He was something of a catch, she thought. He was slender, long-legged, with deep-set eyes, a square jaw, and full lips that Katie very much wanted to kiss until they bled. His torso and some of his face were marked with pale, crisscrossing scars. They made Katie think of a roadmap that told a story of knife fights or broken shards of glass or...something similar, she thought.

Lost in her thoughts about the beautiful boy dozing beside her, Katie absent-mindedly began to run her thumb over the skin of his pale cheek. Her thumb grazed against one of the scars. The old wound felt like sandpaper against her thumb, a ravine carved into otherwise impeccably smooth skin.

His eyes—a startlingly pale green, nearly silver, soul-searching—fluttered open, and he smiled up at her.

“Hello, doll,” he said, smiling with all of his teeth. “That’s my job.”

Katie giggled. She giggled like she was supposed to, and let him cup her cheek with one calloused hand, sighing contently as he mimicked her affectionate gesture.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, mostly to himself, and that was how Katie knew he meant it.

The wind howled outside their tent, owls called out into the night, wolves howled off in the distance, and thunder rumbled from some kilometres away, deeper into the woods, beyond Camp Goodwill.

Goodwill was a camp that prided itself on being a place where youth offenders went to reform, a glorified boot camp, really, taking the form of a summer camp.

Zediah was there on charges related to… possession of marijuana, if Katie remembered it right. Something like that. He certainly didn’t act like a pothead, Katie thought. After all, he was a conventionally attractive rich kid who came from fucking Wellington, of all places.

Katie had been sent to Camp Goodwill for beating the shit out of one of her classmates. The bastard had tried to stick his hand up her skirt. The kid was an asshole, served him right, really. The teeth Katie had apparently knocked out were just comeuppance, just an Asshole Tax. Naturally, neither the cops nor the school administrators had believed a word of her story. As was the norm for cases like Katie’s, the smarmy, snivelling brat had gotten off scot-free with some bullshit about this or that, she didn’t remember.

Zediah wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. She hummed contently and buried her face in the pit of his chest.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m with you,” was her only reply, and Zediah’s smile lit up her world. She folded her knees up and threw one arm over her...boyfriend? Oh, she hoped so. She hoped this wasn’t a one-time thing.

There was a heavy sounding thump from outside, and Katie sat bolt upright. Zediah laughed softly in response.

“Scared, babe?” He asked, sitting up with her and flinging his arms over her neck, letting his clasped hands dangle over her chest.

Katie snorted. “Hardly.”

Still, though, she got off the slightly too small bed and stumbled across the tent on wobbly legs, grabbing Zediah’s hoodie from the floor and throwing it over herself. Zediah was slim, yes, but he was tall, with broad shoulders. Katie was no slouch in a fight, as evidenced by her reason for attending Camp Goodwill, but she was still short and built like a bloody willow branch. Zediah’s hoodie swallowed her.

He laughed from the bed.

“Shut,” Katie hissed, although her cheeks reddened and her eyes danced with mirth. “I’m gonna go check what that was. Maybe one of the bear bags fell down.”

That would be a problem, she thought as she pulled back the tent flap, Zediah’s hoodie hanging over her knees. There were bears in the woods.

The wind was strong, shaking the trees surrounding the campsite and pulling Katie’s bleach blonde hair in front of her face, the winds carding long fingers through her pale locks.

Thump.

Katie picked up the flashlight she’d left just outside Zediah’s tent and turned it on, the blessedly powerful beam sending rays of light across the forest floor.

She ran the beam over each of the bear bags, still hanging from their places up in the branches.

Thump.

Katie’s breath caught in her throat, and she found herself holding the heavy-duty flashlight to her breast like a baseball bat. The wind stopped tousling her hair with all the care of a lover and started to slice at the exposed skin on her face and legs with frigid cold needles.

She bit her tongue to keep from calling out hello? That was how people died in horror movies. “Katie.”

“Fuck!” Katie spun around to where the voice had come from—just to her left, close enough that she should have been able to feel hot breath touch her skin. “Who said that?”

There was nobody there.

“Katie?” Her heart flooded with relief, and she took a step backwards, one of her bare feet crumpling the material of the tent just below the zipper.

A freezing cold hand clamped over her mouth and nose. Katie screamed into the damp, cold palm, dropping the flashlight to the ground where it spun and sent bright light cascading around the campsite in a dizzying circle.

“I’m fine. Just putting the bear bags back up,” said the thing gripping a struggling Katie, in a perfect imitation of her voice. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Zediah!”

Katie’s scream for the person who lay just a metre away from her went unheard, muffled by the hand of whatever the fuck made the woods surrounding Camp Goodwill its home.

It wasn’t a fucking bear.

The thing pressed its face close to Katie’s cheek. It did not breathe. “You say a word,” it hissed. “And I will cave your skull in. Is that clear?”

Katie nodded. It let go of her face, and Katie pulled in a strangled breath.

It gripped her shoulders and yanked her away just as she turned back to the tent.

Oh god, its face.

“There is not,” the thing that was not a person hissed, cupping her face in one hand in a gesture that almost mimicked compassion. “A person in the world who will save you.”

Katie whimpered. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me g—”

SNAP.

“Hey, babe?” hissed a voice that was almost Katie’s. “Could you come out here for a second?”

____________________________________________________________

The last person to wake up the next morning, oblivious to what had occurred the previous night, was Merrilyn Rakes, a familiar face to the managers of the camp. Her most recent stunt was breaking into her ex’s house and smashing his copy of that Empire game he’d been so obsessed over. Served him right, she thought, swinging herself up and out of bed, hopping off her lumpy and uncomfortable mattress. Stretching, she planted her feet on the much too thin sheet that offered a flimsy separation between her feet and the ground. Stones stuck up from beneath the mat and Merrilyn winced as she pulled her socks and shoes on.

There was some sort of commotion going on over at the guys’ neck of the woods. People were screaming bloody murder, Merrilyn could hear the shouting even through the tent and across the thin stretch of woods that led to the guys’ camp.

She didn’t even bother to change out of her tank top and shorts. She just shrugged her jacket on so fast she missed the left sleeve and left her coat hanging off her right side.

“What’s going on?” She said, sliding to a stop in the camp.

Kegan Merritt, an archetypical tough guy with a rap sheet a mile long, pointed one shaky finger at whatever people were screaming at. He was ghost white, although there was a faint green tinge to his skin. He then placed his hands on his knees and vomited all over his Nike Cortez shoes.

Curiosity got the better of her and Merrilyn pursed her lips. She started to walk towards the gathering. She covered her ears to drown out the screams about things bending in ways they were not supposed to bend. She tried to block out the sounds of nauseous gags and unanswered pleas for somebody to please call 111, there had to be a landline at the camp entrance if somebody just ran there oh god.

“Shut up,” Merrilyn hissed, and pushed some guy out of the way, one of the younger campers who seemed all too glad to be shoved out of the action.

Oh.

OH.

The first person Merrilyn saw was Katie Nicolson, lying...crumpled on the ground. She was nude, a hoodie that looked far too big for her lying beneath her head, folded neatly as if it were a makeshift pillow. There was nothing remotely attractive about the nudity. Katie lay on her side, bent fully in half. Katie’s arms reached outward as if to grasp at some aid that hadn’t come for her, her head resting by her feet. Her face was frozen, eyes wide open and bulging, jaw hanging loose. Dried blood and spittle pooled on the forest floor and at the corners of her lips.

A couple metres away was Zediah Rennel, also nude.

His torso and right arm had been crushed, blood and viscera pooling around his body. Merrilyn didn’t want to linger on the fact that he was looking at Katie, that his mouth was hanging open, not in a scream but a marker of his last, whispered word. She didn’t want to think about the undamaged arm. The arm that reached for Katie.

But she couldn’t tear her eyes away, even as her stomach flipped.

Somebody stepped forwards. It was Kegan, still green and shaking, but moving with a strange sense of purpose.

He removed the hoodie from underneath Katie’s head and shook it out to its full size like he was unfurling a beach towel. With all the care in the world, he laid it over the poor girl’s body like a burial shroud. “She doesn’t deserve this,” he whispered.

Merrilyn took off her jacket and covered Zediah’s corpse with it.

The campers calmed down somewhat, and one of the kids ran to get the counsellors. Everybody else sat tight and waited for their “supervisors” to arrive.

They knew the drill.

One of the counsellors arrived some minutes later, a scrawny, gaunt young woman with a round jaw. There wasn’t even a hint of green tinging her skin when she saw the two corpses. Worse, her admittedly already pale skin did not pale further when she removed the makeshift burial shrouds. There was a nametag on her plaid shirt, peeling off at one end. In faded text, it read: Counsellor Raine ツ

Her hair was cut short, trimmed into a neat, blonde bob. She smoothed out her slacks and wrinkled her nose at the sight before her as though it were a pile of foul-smelling garbage and not the corpses of two innocent teenagers.

“Well,” she said. “That’s a grisly sight.”

She removed her walkie-talkie from her belt and spoke into it, voice flat.

“We’ve got another one,” Counsellor Raine said, glancing at the bodies. “Two, actually.”

There came a garbled mess of words and frustrated exclamations from the walkie-talkie, and Counsellor Raine walked away, talking animatedly with whoever was on the other end.

“Another one?” Came a high-pitched voice to Merrilyn’s left. “What does that mean? Oh my god, what’s happening?”

Merrilyn stepped forward and wrapped one arm around a shaking girl. One of the newer campers, she thought, one who hadn’t seen this before. Chelsea, her name was, or something similarly youthful.

“C’mon,” Merrilyn said, pulling the quivering girl into a one-armed hug.

“Let’s go down by the creek, okay? I’ll explain everything once we’re there.”

Chelsea glanced up at her with wide, trembling, chestnut eyes, and the two of them staggered down to the creek, just a five-minute walk from the campsite.

They turned back only once, just in time to see a small group of counsellors removing the bodies and cleaning the gore as best they could from the forest floor. Chelsea whimpered from beside Merrilyn.

“What are they doing with the bodies?”

“Packing them into trash bags,” came Merrilyn’s terse reply. “And burying those bags deep in the woods.” “Oh,” Chelsea said, her eyes devoid of any spark or life as she stared down at the slow-moving waters of the creek. “Who...what killed them?”

Merrilyn sighed. “This is the part that gets a little...unbelievable.” “That girl—” Chelsea said, pointing one shaking finger towards the camp. “Was snapped in half from the inside. People don’t bend like that. Not unless their fucking spines are broken and their organs are shuffled around. And the boy—” She turned slightly, pointing at the approximate location of Zediah’s body. “That boy had his torso and right arm crushed so bad they looked like hamburger meat. Tell me it’s aliens from space, swear to god, I’ll believe you.”

Chelsea shuddered, her voice softening. “No animal I know of could do something like that.”

Merrilyn raised an eyebrow at the girl’s burst of anger and subsequent—and rapid—cooldown.

“Katie Nicolson and Zediah Renner.” “What?” “Those were their names.” Chelsea mouthed those words over and over again as if she were trying to commit them to memory.

Maybe she was.

“Now sit,” Merrilyn said, and swallowed, wetting her lips to prepare for the rather long, incomprehensible ramble she was about to spit out.

“It’s about the size of a bear,” she began, tapping her finger against her thigh. “You can mistake it for one if you’re not careful. Its skin melts and regrows rapidly, and you can tell where it’s been because it leaves oozing clumps of skin and flesh behind everywhere it goes. It’s like…” Merrilyn swallowed. “It’s like it’s constantly falling apart and then putting itself back together. Its face—” Merrilyn wrung her hands and rubbed the side of her neck. “Its face is all wrong. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s almost...it’s almost human, but the rest of it isn’t human at all, not even when it stands up. It just looks vaguely…bear shaped? Not quite, though. it’s shaped like something and the something is a little bit bear-shaped. It doesn’t look silly, it’s not like—” Merrilyn laughed despite herself. “It’s not like a human head on a bear’s body. It’s an animal's head, but it’s like if somebody stretched a human skin mask over it. The proportions look human, but stretched and warped. It doesn’t really...look like a bear, not up close, anyway. It has hands, for one thing, but they’re all wrong.”

Merrilyn ran her trembling hands through her hair. “That’s as much as I can tell you about its appearance.”

Chelsea crossed her arms. “How do you know all this?”

Merrilyn huffed, her temper rising. “You said you would believe me—” “I do believe you,” Chelsea said, rolling her eyes and leaning forward to poke Merrilyn in the chest, punctuating each word that followed. “What I asked was how. Do. You. Know?”

“Because I saw it!” Merrilyn said, her usually flat, relaxed voice spiking into a shout. “I saw it, and I survived it, and it should not be a thing. It’s all wrong, Chelsea!” Merrilyn ran her hands through her dark hair. “It’s all wrong.”

Chelsea’s shoulders slumped. “You can call me Chel,” she said and shuffled around so that she was sitting beside Merrilyn. “Do you...do you want to talk about it?”

Merrilyn took a deep breath. “It was a couple years ago,” she said. “I was fourteen, fifteen, ish? Your age.”

Chel nodded. “Go on—I mean—if you want to, that is.”

“I do,” Merrilyn said, pulling in a deep breath and sitting up as straight as she could. “I don’t even remember why I was here—god—something stupid. It was one of those things where you only get sent to a place like this if you’re young. If you’re older, it’s just acting out. I think I stole a bunch of shit from a grocery store or something like that. Sweets? Might’ve been books. But—” Merrilyn waved her hand in the air. “That’s besides the point. I was going for a walk around the area, ‘cuz I was bored. I think I was just sort of...stewing, y’know? I heard some weird sounds, but—well—it’s the woods, in the middle of fucking nowhere. You’re gonna hear some weird noises, so I ignored it. And then,,,” Merrilyn went very quiet, only then noticing that she’d pulled up several fistfuls of grass, the vibrant green blades now laying in her lap.

“It’s okay,” Chel said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to keep going.” “No—” Merrilyn said, rather abruptly, as she realised when Chel flinched. “No—I—I want to get this out there. I want to talk about it, tell somebody.”

She coughed. “Somebody who won’t think I’ve lost my mind.” “I believe you,” Chel said, looking directly at Merrilyn, eyes firmly set. “I believe you.”

Merrilyn hummed—a thank you, of sorts.

“I don’t think I need any more background. It came crashing out the woods, broad fucking daylight, mind, and slammed me up against a tree so hard my head spun. I saw stars and I bit my tongue and shouted real loud, kicked and screamed and clawed, but it did no good. That thing...it’s built like a wall, honest to god. It got real close to my face, and its breath was disgusting. Candy canes. A kind of artificial, overpowering, minty smell. Like cold. I don’t know how something can smell cold, but it smelled cold. And liquor, too. It was like mint crossed with liquor, that’s what it was, and its breath was so hot, even though it smelled so cold. There was drool spilling out of the corners of its mouth and landing on my shirt. Its eyes were a pale, pale blue, and there wasn’t anything animalistic or feral about them. Its eyes were its most human feature, and they were filled with intelligence, and clarity, and morality.”

Merrilyn swallowed. “So it was real close. Then...then it ducked its head so its mouth was right next to my ear and it—it told me that it was gonna—that it was going to tear my heart out, right out of my chest. It rested the almost-hand that wasn’t pinning me up against the tree on my ribs and I felt it puncture the skin like it was made of paper and it smiled.”

Merrilyn looked skywards, letting her mouth twitch into a satisfied smile, only dimly aware of Chel’s shallow, rapid breaths. “And its face was right next to mine and it was smiling and I was so angry, and my hands were free so I grabbed its face and I jammed my thumbs into its human eyes and it screamed and stopped its torturously slow process of tearing me open. And it dropped me, and I fell real hard, smacked my head again, scratched up everything that could get scratched up. I bit my lip real hard, and I’d already bit my tongue, so there was a fuckton of blood in my mouth, and the thing kept screaming, so you know what I did, Chel?”

Merrilyn ripped her gaze away from the sky and stared at Chel. “What did you do?”

“I laughed. I laughed and then I ran like hell. I was spitting blood as I went and I guess I’d knocked a tooth loose, either when I hit the tree or when I hit the ground because I spat my last baby tooth out that day in the woods. And I ran all the way back to camp and told everybody I’d taken a bad fall. Got stitches for the little slice on my torso. And that was that. That fucker never bothered me again.”

Chel sat back with a shaky breath. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, with that tone of voice that indicated there was more to the story than that. “But..”

Ah. There it was.

“So this thing snapped Katie in half, tried to rip your heart out, and crushed Zediah? What—” Chel wrung her hands. “Where’s the pattern?”

Merrilyn cringed. “I don’t think there is one. I think...I think it’s experimenting, trying to find out what it likes best. Or maybe it just wants to spice things up, I don’t know.”

Chel’s shoulders slumped. “Experimenting.”

“Or for fun,” Merrilyn added. Chel stood up and off the ground. “Who’s next?” “Hmm?” “Who’s it gonna kill next?”

Merrilyn stood up with a cackling laugh. “Stick with me,” she said, wrapping an arm around Chel. “And it ain’t gonna be you.”

Chel smiled something fierce. “It ain’t gonna be me,” she parroted.

“And that’s all you can hope for at Camp Goodwill,” Merrilyn said as the two of them walked back to camp. “That it won’t. Be. You.”

#horror #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #short story #body horror #cw gore #tw gore #cw body horror #tw body horror #stuff in the woods #monsters #monster #original fiction #writeblr

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infinityxu · 5 years

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falling for u ☕

chpt 5. day five, first friday

genre: cafe au, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, friends to lovers

pairs: jihan, gyuhao

chpt 1

this chapter

chapter excerpts:

Once Joshua started, Jeonghan’s full attention was on him, and he took notice of how shaky his voice seemed, almost making him stumble over his words. Jeonghan guessed he was a bit nervous, but he usually didn’t have much of a problem presenting. Especially for something that was only five minutes long.

Joshua was leaned on the flimsy podium just as he was switched slides from his powerpoint with his little remote. He took a moment before talking again, taking a shaky breath and leaning on the podium a little more heavily, and the silence lingered. Jeonghan’s chest tightened - why wasn’t he continuing? Was he okay?

“I’d invite you to take your time, but you don’t have much of it.” Mr. Kim told Joshua from where he stood at his desk, with his clipboard. He wrote something down. Joshua didn’t react, and Jeonghan was starting to hear whispers behind him.

And within a split second, Joshua’s eyes rolled back and he fell forward, taking the flimsy podium down with him as his body went completely limp.

Jeonghan heard a collective gasp from a handful of students in the classroom. And at first, he didn’t know how to react. He was waiting for Joshua to get up, or at least move - assuming that he had just tripped, somehow - but it wasn’t happening. He was completely still, halfway laying over the podium.

Needless to say, Jeonghan had never been more relieved about taking a seat in the front row.

He bolted to the front of the classroom once his brain fully registered what had just happened. Their professor was already leaning over Joshua’s unmoving form, hands hovering over him, clearly unsure what to do. Jeonghan felt like he couldn't breathe.

🌻☕🌻☕🌻

“No, please, I just want to get to my car,” Joshua mumbled shakily. “Please…”

Joshua’s knees seemed to buckle then, and Jeonghan was worried he had fainted again, but he was just exhausted. He couldn’t keep walking.

Jeonghan lowered him down to the floor, sliding down the wall. It was a quiet hallway, thankfully, and he hoped that wouldn’t make Joshua worry so much about who was watching or seeing what was happening.

Joshua curled up to Jeonghan, burying his face in his chest. He was crying. Sniffling, at first, but at some point, he couldn’t hold back his sobs anymore. Jeonghan wrapped his arms around him, placing his chin on the top of Joshua’s head. Joshua was so small, so fragile. Jeonghan was afraid if he hugged him too hard he might break him, and Joshua really didn’t need to be broken on top of everything else he was feeling.

“I’ve got you,” Jeonghan told him softly, his hand slowly running up and down Joshua’s spine as he cried. Jeonghan had never seen Joshua cry. Joshua was so very private about that, Jeonghan sometimes wondered if Joshua even possessed the ability to cry. But here was was, completely vulnerable, sobbing into Jeonghan’s arms.

They sat there for a while, and Jeonghan let him cry as much as he needed to. He didn’t pry on what was hurting him, even if he was beyond worried because Joshua has just passed out in front of their entire class.

“Can I please just go home,” Joshua murmured after his sobs died down, but he stayed where he was, his head lying on Jeonghan’s chest. “I just, I…I just want to sleep. The clinic is always so slow, and I just want to go home, Hannie…”

Joshua was begging Jeonghan at that point, his voice breaking. Jeonghan wanted to take him so badly, but he couldn’t do that against Joshua’s will. He just wanted to rest, and Jeonghan wanted to give that to him.

read more here ❤

#seventeen #joshua #jeonghan #jihan #gyuhao #joshua hong #yoon jeonghan #hong jisoo #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #slow burn #angst #cafe au #friends to lovers #falling for u

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zakamore1 · 6 years

Text

before i do some D&D for today I wanna take up @chapelseed‘s dare and post the first chapter of my book. It’s not great, and not fully proofread but I feel like sharing it owo

so without further ado, chapter one of Inner Sin

Inner Sin

Book 1

Original Sin

Chapter 1

Nightmares

As usual, the subway was an overcrowded mess. Bodies pushed up against each other hanging onto flimsy metal bands while the few and lucky people got their seat off to the side, many of them filling the seats around them with whatever useless junk they dragged with them. Chris Mattews was one such lucky person, having gotten on at such a remote station in the city and at such an ungodly hour that it was empty by the time he'd gotten on. He couldn't complain either, he'd hate to be one of the drones of people around him standing in silent anger, especially with what little sleep he had gotten the night before. Where he was was comfortable for him.

So much so it wasn't surprising he'd drift off…

The crowded train was gone from view. In its place Chris was left in an endless expanse of black, the floor seeming to ripple with each careful step he took.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice echoing around from every direction. On and on the only sound he heard was his own and the only thing he could see was black.

The voice he heard started to turn from his own, sounding distorted and scratchy. The rippling of the ground stopped coming from Chris’ steps, they were coming from in front of him.

Hellohellohellohellohhhhheeeeeeelllllllll

“Ooooooo? Chris, anyone home in there?” Chris was stirred awake by the person next to him, moving the brown bangs of his long messy hair out from his eyes. Ricky was ready to snap in his face again as he had been for the past few minutes, giving a cocky grin to his friend as he came to.

“‘Ey there we go! Up and at em Chris boy, we're almost at our stop.” Ricky’s voice bled with his Brooklyn origins. “You still jet lagged or somethin’?”

“Uh yeah… guess so.” Chris said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grabbing his bag and joining his friend standing. “Honestly ever since I got back I've been having bad dreams.”

“No kiddin’? Sure you don't need to see ol’ Rouge then?” Ricky snickered, reaching into his pocket to show the top of a bag. “Or maybe more medicinal help~?”

“Fuck off Ricky,” Chris’ voice turned stern, a ding and muffled voice over the train’s sound system announcing they were at their stop. “I'm not buying your crap.” He then quickly followed along with the crowd of people exiting the train, leaving his friend to roll his eyes.

“Pfft, stick.”

Chris imagined his high school was like just about every other one; old, poorly funded, and filled with people he didn't know or care about. His only focus towards anyone in the school was limited to the people of his class, all of which were scattered around the room chatting away as he entered.

“Good lord Micheal!” Screamed out the short blonde girl, Brianna, to her much taller peer. “Can you not keep it in your pants for one night? I can barely hear my own thoughts with all that noise from your apartment!”

“So sorry Bri, but I just couldn't help myself!” Micheal chuckled to his neighbor, waving her off. “Besides, if you couldn't sleep you could have always joi-”

“God no!! Keep you and your little… sexcapades outta my life.” She huffed, taking her seat at the front of the class. As she sat she was joined by her desk neighbor, Chris, turning to him now. “Honestly, can you believe him? Why do people fall for him?”

“Couldn't tell you,” Chris shrugged, leaning onto his desk with his head in his hands. “I've just learned to tune his room out at this point.”

Brianna shook her head in annoyance, leaving Chris to listen in on the rest of his classmates.

“‘Ey how you doing there Jenna? Enjoyed yourself last night, I hear from a buddy you got some good stuff.” He heard Ricky say, most likely near the back of the class talking up to Jenna, who was more than likely already high off her mind and blankly staring off into space next to Alex.

“Shut up Ricky…” she said, a groan coming from her. “It's from my doctor not your creep friends…”

“‘Ey who said I'm not friends with doctors? Heheheh!”

Chris let the snickering voice of Ricky fill his head as he slowly felt himself drift back off into sleep…

Once again Chris was back in the dark void he was in before, the floor he was on before now a pitch black liquid that reached his knees. All around him he could hear the same laugh that brought him back here, reverberating from all around this void.

“This is a weird ass dream…” Chris said to himself, his own voice drowned out by the laughter. Looking down at his legs he could see the ripples in the water once again coming from somewhere in front of him. But he wasn't prepared for what was there.

Emerging from the liquid was a mass of black gunk, writhing and shaking to and fro as it grew. The mass began to slender up into a long form, the top pushing forward towards Chris. From the very top popped open two, large, glowing yellow eyes, the slitted irises pointing down on Chris. The two shared a silent staring contest for a time before an elongated row of jagged, yellow teeth grew across the “face” of this mass, forming a smile. The jagged mouth opened to follow along with the laughter echoing through the room, the sound becoming distorted and corrupted as it synced up with the noise.

HeheheHEHeheHehEHEheheHEHEHEhEheH

“Mr. Mattews!!” Was the words yelled down at Chris that woke him from his unconscious state. Looking up Chris was met by the scrutinizing stare of his teacher, Mr. Amuny, his brow furrowed in clear annoyance.

“So nice of you to join us from your current trip to dreamland.” He said, chuckling coming from some of his classmates. “I'm amazed you were able to take another one so soon after your trip to Israel, it must have been quite expensive.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and annoyance.

“Sorry sir…” Chris sheepishly said as he stood up in his seat, trying to be as awake as possible.

“As you should be,” Mr. Amuny said, looking down at Chris before taking his seat at his own desk. “Now then, seeing how Mr. Mattews missed the beginning of class, and it's a half day, I'll just pass back your reports.” At the sound of such an assignment, Chris silently panicked, knowing full well he missed it entirely.

“Brianna Kingsly!” The Indian man called out into the class, said person giddily skipping up to the front desk. “Your report on the current political standing and its needed improvements was an intriguing read. An A+ for you.” He announced, handing Brianna a folder.

“Thank you Mr. Amuny! I just want to help our country obviously~.” Brianna said as she snatched the folder, her words drowning with sweetness and pride.

“Mr. Safrete!” Amuny called once again, the person coming up being the portly Horton Safrete, still eating his bagel from the morning. “While I'm not a nutritionist or very knowledgeable in how genetics and weight are connected, I applauded you for your work. B-.”

“Thanks professor.” Horton said between chews. “Put a lotta work into it, I appreciate it.”

“Neid!!” Calling out another name and bringing forth the skiny demeanor of Alex Neid shuffling up to the front desk. “I must say I'm a little surprised by how close your work was in comparison to Ms. Kingsly’s on politics. C.”

“T-thank you Mr. Amuny…” Alex shyly told their teacher, shuffling back to the end of the room. Mr. Amuny’s eyes soon narrowed down onto Chris, filling the young man’s heart with dread.

“Let me guess Mr. Mattews,” he spoke even though he knew the answer. “You don't have the report I told you about before you left?”

“I um…” Chris started to say, trying to come up with some excuse for himself. Luckily for him it seemed his talkitive friends had his back on this.

“Prof. Amuny,” Micheal’s smooth talking voice came. “If I may, wouldn't it make much more sense for our dear Chris to write about his experience abroad?”

“Yeah! I'd think it'd be an awesome read.” Ricky butted in.

“Probably better than most of ours…” was faintly picked up from the back coming from Jenna.

“Shut up!!” Roared Amuny, slamming his fist on the table and shocking the group of students to attention. A disgruntled sigh escaped the older man as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I commend you all for coming to the aid of your peer, but that doesn't mean I'm changing your grades.” Brianna gave a slight snort at that, smirking. “But as well… I agree with your thoughts. Very well Mr. Mattews…” his gaze returned to Chris and the bearded smile he was given creeped Chris to his core. “Fifty pages on your experience in Israel on my desk tomorrow.”

Chris felt his heart sink at such a task, staring up at his teacher. “H-how am I suppose to do that?!”

“Not my problem Mattews. Here's hoping you got enough sleep in class.” Once Amuny finished that sentence the school bell rang, the trampling sound of students leaving beginning to pick up. “Well it seems you're all free for today, we'll be continuing our lesson on reptiles tomorrow, make sure to bone up on the chapter on snakes.” Amuny’s words practically fell on deaf ears as his students had begun to leave.

“Not you Mattews.” Chris heard, stopping dead in his tracks from packing, once again looking up at Mr. Amuny. “Seeing how you missed so much class, including today, I thought it might be worth while to give you a crash course.” Once again the older man’s grin was terrifying, Chris’ only comfort being the hand placed on his shoulder.

“Good luck…” Jenna tiredly said, yawning and adjusting her glasses before taking her hand and leaving. Horton and Ricky at the door gave a silent prayer while Micheal drew a cross over his chest.

‘Oh boy…’ Chris thought to himself, gulping.

Three hours. Three grueling hours of a constant bombardment of information, and if Chris even started to drift off he was smacked back awake. Needless to say this wasn't exactly how Chris thought his first day back would be like.

“I don't want to hear another god damn thing about reptiles ever again.” Chris groaned as he walked down the street. It was the dead of night at this point, and for a street in New York it was rather empty, but that's how Chris preferred it. He hoped it'd be this easy and less crowded on his whole trip home as frankly he just wanted to write his report and sleep for a thousand years.

Suddenly though Chris felt a… pain in the back of his head. It was sharp and quick at first but it struck him again as he moved forward, stumbling on his feet and falling against an alleyway garbage bin. “Oww… fuck…” Chris groaned, rubbing his still stinging head.

“What was that?” Chris went as dead silent as possible, covering his mouth to quiet his breathing. The voice he'd heard was rough and wet, like a saw moving through water. And it sounded close. Peaking over the edge of the bin gave Chris a sight that nearly made him vomit.

Standing in the far side of the alley under the flickering light of a lamp was a tall figure, standing well over Chris’ own six feet in height, hunched over scanning the area with bright, piercing red eyes. Its body looked humanoid, but parts were seemingly stretched, patches of whatever clothing it had being torn open by a series of jagged spikes that seemed to cover itself, two massive ones having sprouted from its arms reaching the ground. Its mouth held a row of long, sharp teeth that were very clearly covered in blood and gore, the source of which was undoubtedly the ripped apart body that it was hunched over.

Holding back his scream and vomit, Chris slowly pulled away from viewing the sight, hoping he wasn't seen himself. He needed to run, to hide, call the police, the god damn army. He needed help, now.

Another sharp pain dug through Chris’ head, having to bite back his urge to scream in agony but unable to keep his leg from jerking out in pain.

*clinck-kongalongalong*

A discarded can was right in his foot’s path and was now scattered across the alley, loudly skipping across the ground. Chris didn't even have time to panic, he got up as fast as he could and made a run for it.

But he didn't get far.

“I thought I heard something~.” Chris felt the hood of his jacket get grabbed as his body was lifted with it, getting a glimpse of the monstrosity he had saw just a moment ago up close. It was only a glimpse because he was thrown backwards across the alley, soaring through the air before slamming against the wall. Chris could feel a rib crack, blood filling his mouth as he tried to stand but couldn't, his legs were paralyzed from fear. He spat out a glob of blood and noticed he was next to the mangled, half eaten corpse he had seen before, but couldn't bring himself to throw up as he looked to see the monster in front of him. “I thought I was going to be done tonight, but I guess you're just in time for dessert!!”

The creature cackled and laughed as it brought its mass spike up ready to strike Chris. This was it for him. Only one thought was left in his head.

“Help.”

Help

Helphelpgelphelphelphhhheeeelllpppppp

“Ok.”

#My writing #my book #original character #original story #Inner Sin

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queenofchildren · 7 years

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Love and Vandalism

This was inspired by this tag from ao3tags, which I found hilarious. It features both Minty and Bellarke and @leralynne had to put up with a lot of ranting from me as I wrote it, so thank you! (And also, please write that prompt too one day.)

[Read it on ao3]

"Vandalism is not a valid form of flirting, you know."

Leaning against a row of shiny brass mailboxes in his co-worker's apartment building, Nathan Miller watches exasperatedly as his other co-worker and best friend is poised to turn an innocent mailbox into a glittery nightmare. Not for the first time, Miller wonders how the hell he got dragged into this.

Bellamy makes an annoyed sound and angrily stabs at the mailbox with his key, because for some reason he seems to believe that will get it open.

“I'm not flirting.“

“Right, I forgot,” Miller says and rolls his eyes, “that's what normal people would do if they were in love with their co-worker.“

“I am not in love with Clarke!“ Bellamy grinds out, then lets out a triumphant little shout as the mailbox creaks open. “I'm trying to teach her a lesson.“

Miller almost rolls his eyes again. “You keep telling yourself that.“ He watches quietly for a moment as Bellamy covers the inside of the mailbox with glue, then stuffs the plastic bag of pink and purple glitter in there and presses it against the back and sides of the rectangular metal box to make sure it sticks. “Still vandalism though,“ Miller adds lightly, although at this point he doesn't have much hope of convincing his friend to abandon this stupid plan. Or better yet, end that stupid prank war altogether.

And indeed, Bellamy shows no sign of giving up. Instead, he coats the inside of the mailbox's little door in glue as well and closes it, pressing against it for a little while to make sure the bag really sticks to the door. The plan, as Miller can infer, is for the flimsy plastic bag to be ripped open when Clarke opens the mailbox so that the glitter pours out. And since her mailbox is installed on the highest of five rows of identical boxes and Clarke no doubt has to reach up to open it, that means most of it will land on her hair and be a nightmare to get out. So, as far as stupid pranks go, it does promise to be somewhat entertaining, although Bellamy will probably use it as an excuse to stare at Clarke's blonde mane even more than he already does.

Miller sighs. This very absurd moment right now is the peak of a months-long prank war taking place at their usually rather professional workplace. It started less than a month after Clarke started working at their firm and immediately butted heads with Bellamy, and since then the two of them, both technically adults and highly successful lawyers, have been at it with the stupid pranks when everyone around them knows what they really want is to tear each other's clothes off.

It started when Clarke asked Bellamy to send her the files for a case she was taking over from him, and Bellamy printed it all out and covered her entire office in it, taping the pages to every available surface so that it took Clarke almost an hour to tear it all down. Clarke retaliated by telling Bellamy that an influential client they were both wooing was a big fan of French cuisine, especially escargots, and Bellamy fell for it and took the man out to a French restaurant and tried to impress him by ordering a big plate of escargots as his appetizer. He didn't even make it through more than a handful of snails in butter before he got nauseous and had to excuse himself. By the time he returned to the table, Clarke had snatched the client out from under his nose, and turned herself into an office legend.

After that, it was on.

For a while, their shenanigans were amusing, a playful distraction from their hectic lives. After six months of steadily escalating pranks, however, Miller is starting to long for the peaceful days of yore, when everyone just ignored each other and went about their day, and when he could actually get some work done without Bellamy coming over to brainstorm new pranks or Clarke raging about the fallout from his newest idea.

But instead of cooling down, the two seem to be taking it up a notch – and taking it out of the office, too. Miller has never even been to Clarke's place before, and now he's suddenly helping to install a glitter bomb in her mailbox. Which reminds him....

“How did you manage to get that open? Did you steal her key or something?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Nope.” He pops the “p” with a smug smile. “She told me the lock on her mailbox was broken and that it's possilbe to open it with anything remotely key-shaped.” He shakes his head as if to say that he can't believe Clarke would be stupid enough to tell him something like that. Miller is more inclined to shake his head at Bellamy's stupidity. Clearly, Clarke was fishing for an offer to repair the mailbox himself, perhaps followed by a glass of wine at her apartment... But if Bellamy's too stubborn or stupid to go after what he wants (honestly, Miller isn't sure which one it is) it's not Miller's job to make him see sense.

As a rule, Miller stays out of his friends' love lives. He's held firm to this rule so far, and he's not going to abandon it now.

Until the moment, less than a day later, when he finds out that the stupid prank war actually hurt an innocent person.

With the glitter bomb successfully installed, Miller and Bellamy head to their favourite bar for a nightcap, and Miller just hopes the fallout won't be too vicious.

But to Miller's great surprise and Bellamy's obvious disappointment, Clarke looks decidedly dull and glitter-free the next day. Either she spent the entire night scrubbing glitter off her hair and face, or Bellamy's plan wasn't quite as foolproof as he thought. She definitely looks a little tired, Miller thinks, with bags under her eyes and the slightest little slouch to her posture. But she still greets everyone brightly and jumps right into the day's tasks as if nothing at all had happened. Not a minute later, Bellamy sends his first text of many badgering Miller about whether or not he thinks it happened.

It's only much later, when Bellamy and Miller are sitting in the courtyard to eat lunch and discuss whether or not Bellamy's great prank worked, that they get their answer: A shadow falls over them, and suddenly Bellamy is being showered in glitter.

“Are you mad?“ Bellamy yelps and tries to shake the glitter out of his hair and shirt – a plan that is clearly doomed to fail.

“Yes, actually,“ Clarke replies, but her voice is cool and instead of sporting a look of triumph at having bested them, she looks grim – and decidedly angry. Which, of course, pleases Bellamy to no end.

But before he can get some sort of dig in – and inevitably call Clarke „Princess“ to rile her up even more – Clarke continues.

“And so would you be if you got a face full of glitter and spent the entire night vomiting it up again!“

Bellamy snorts, but doesn't seem altogether at ease – and Clarke's next words make his grin drop off his face altogether, and Miller's own stomach turn with dread too.

“Which is exactly what happened to my sweet and considerate roommate Monty when he offered to get the mail. That stupid glitter? It went everywhere. His eyes, mouth, nose... he inhaled a bunch of it, of course, and until this morning, I was wondering if I should take him to the hospital to have his lungs checked out. Are you happy now?“

There are actual tears in her eyes now, and Bellamy snaps to his feet, abandoning his glitter-covered sandwich on the bench beside him to grip her arms.

“Fuck, Clarke, I had no idea... I never meant for any of that to happen! I didn't think...“

“Of course you didn't think,“ she says, definitely choked up, and wrenches out of his grip. “You never do!“ And with that she storms off, two big pink hand prints on the sleeves of her white blouse.

Bellamy stares after her until she's disappeared back into the building, while everyone else sitting in the courtyard is busy staring at Bellamy instead.

“I fucked up, didn't I?“

“Big time,“ Miller confirms, never one to sugarcoat the ugly truth.

“What do I do now?“ Bellamy sounds truly lost, Miller almost feels pity for him. Almost.

“Now you get that stuff out of your hair, change into your spare suit, and as soon as we get off work, we're going to Clarke's to apologize to her roommate.”

“We?”

“I didn't exactly try very hard to stop you, did I?” Because that's the truth: Miller is just as responsible for making Clarke's poor roommate suffer as Bellamy is.

Four hours later, they're standing in front of Clarke's apartment building again, Bellamy clutching the bouquet of brightly-coloured flowers they bought on the way here.

One more deep breath, a shared look and a determined nod from Bellamy, and he's ringing Clarke's doorbell.

Miller has thought about what he's going to say all afternoon, how he's going to explain his role in the whole debacle without making it look like he wants to get out of taking responsibility.

Unfortunately, as soon as the door opens, everything he planned to say flies right out of his head.

Because Clarke's roommate is cute. Seriously, seriously cute.

Luckily, Bellamy takes up the role of leader of their mission, which is only fair seeing as the whole mess is his fault. This leaves Miller free to stare at the man before him, the shock of black hair contrasting with the soft red sweater he wears, his eyes glittering animatedly despite the dark circles underneath them. He hears Bellamy ask if the man before them is Monty and, once that is confirmed, rush out his apology and hand over the flowers, which are received with a soft little laugh. Only when Bellamy seems to be winding down does Miller even start to fully listen to him again.

“So, again... I'm very, very sorry this happened to you. I didn't even know Clarke had a roommate!”

Monty laughs that soft laugh again and Miller's stomach does a little flip and honestly, what is up with that laugh? Is he still high on glitter particles? Or is it possible that one person could actually be this forgiving and good-natured and smiley?

It's quite the puzzle, and Miller narrows his eyes and keeps staring at the roommate as he tries to figure him out.

“I'm not really her roommate, not permanently. I just live here while I look for my own place. I only moved here last week.”

“Ah.” Bellamy says unintelligently, clearly having run out of pre-prepared things to say.

Monty doesn't seem to mind. His expression remains open and friendly as he fixes his gaze on Miller and addresses him for the first time.

“So, if he's here to apologize,” he nods at Bellamy, “what are you here for?”

Miller's suddenly feels like he's been caught red-handed at something naughty, and he wonders just how long he's been standing here, silently and creepily checking out the guy they almost put in the hospital last night!

“I...,” he croaks nervously, quickly clears his throat. “I came to apologize too.”

Monty raises an eyebrow, and the sharpness of the gesture tells Miller not to confuse good-naturedness with naiveté on this one.

“It took two people to stuff some glitter into Clarke's mailbox?”

Miller wishes the ground would open up and swallow him: Here is an insanely attractive man, and Miller has to apologize for hurting him in a stupid, childish, potentially dangerous prank.

Luckily Bellamy, protective as he is, jumps in to defend him. “Miller didn't really do anything. I just dragged him along as a look-out.”

It doesn't seem to appease Monty, whose expression turns more and more serious.

“So, technically that still makes you an accomplice. Ethically - just as guilty.”

Miller wonders if he'd feel less guilty about the whole thing if he started punching himself right now and not stop until he'd knocked himself out.

But suddenly Monty's face cracks into a bright smile.

“Relax, I'm just pulling your leg. I'm not mad, really. It was a good prank, as pranks go. I even made Clarke take a picture of my glittery self once I was done throwing up.”

Then he suddenly opens the door wide and walks inside, leaving it open behind him.

“Are you guys coming in for a beer?”

Miller and Bellamy share a stunned look at this unexpected development. Then Bellamy shrugs and follows Monty inside Clarke's apartment, looking around curiously.

Miller follows more cautiously, half-expecting to be hit with some sort of prank in retaliation himself. But nothing happens except for Monty reappearing from the kitchen with three bottles and handing them each one.

The drinks do wonders to cure their awkwardness and make Monty somehow even more smiley and beautiful, and soon Bellamy remembers that charming strangers is actually supposed to be one of his strengths, which means he handles the small talk and Miller can focus on doing some more staring. The whole adventure seems to have pretty much reached a happy ending when the door opens.

Clarke takes one step into her apartment, sees them, and stops dead in her tracks.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her gaze shoots over to Monty, suddenly worried. “Monty, have they been bothering you?”

Monty lifts his hands in a reassuring “calm down”-gesture.

“Of course not, Clarke. They came to apologize for the mailbox thing.”

Clarke's lips draw even tighter.

“They better apologize. They could have killed you.”

“Clarke....” Bellamy is already on his feet and moving towards her again, face twitching with guilt.

“But they didn't. I'm completely fine.” Monty points to the bouquet of flowers which he put in a vase on the table. “They brought flowers and everything!”

Clarke is still not appeased, and Bellamy looks more desperate by the second.

“Clarke, please, can...” he swallows hard, looks around until his eyes fall on the balcony door. “Can we talk outside?”

A torturously long moment of silence, then Clarke nods and walks bristly over to the door leading out to her gorgeous balcony.

“Wow, that was... tense.” Monty observes as the balcony door closes behind Clarke and Bellamy. “It's weird, I always got the impression Clarke was enjoying that little prank war they had going.”

“She told you about that?”

“Are you kidding? She talked about nothing else. I heard more about Bellamy's pranks than about any other area of her life. Hell, I don't even know if she's been seeing anyone since she broke up with Lexa. But you better believe I know what Bellamy did this week. Honestly, it feels like this has been going on forever.”

Miller shrugs.

“Not forever. It's only been about six months.”

Monty gapes at him, eyes widening theatrically.

“You've been putting up with that for six months? Shit, you must have nerves of steel.”

Again, all that Miller can come up with is a noncommittal shrug. He's not generally easy to ruffle, and he's learned to tune out Clarke and Bellamy in particular. Still, the hint of admiration in Monty's voice makes him feel like somehow putting up with his friends' childish antics is an achievement to be proud of.

Then, with a secretive little grin that is altogether too attractive, Monty says casually: “You know, someone should really teach them a lesson about pranks and how they can go wrong.”

Miller swallows hard. “Someone should do that, yes.”

And before he can wonder if he's reading this correctly, Monty leans closer, knee brushing against his leg, to whisper:

“Maybe that someone should be us.”

Miller feels a shiver run down his spine that has nothing to do with the blast of Clarke's air condition and everything with Monty's closeness and the way he's referring to them as an “us”.

“Got any ideas yet?” He asks, throat dry despite the sip of beer he just took.

“Not yet. But I'll keep you posted as soon as I do, alright?”

Before Miller can process that yes, this is actually happening, Monty has whipped out his phone and is looking at him expectantly.

“So you should give me your number so we can plan our little secret mission.”

Another tiny thrill shoots through him, and Miller just barely manages to pull himself together enough to dictate his number to Monty just before Clarke and Bellamy come back inside, both looking thoughtful, and Bellamy declares that their ready to leave. To Miller's delight, Monty actually looks disappointed about that. But just before he walks out the door, Monty winks at him and mouths “Call me”, and Miller has to fight to keep a goofy smile off his face.

Two hours later, his phone lights up with the first text from Monty.

It begins with “so I've been doing some research” and ends with “we should probably meet and plan this properly”, and Miller feels like he's walking on a cloud the rest of the day.

They spend a full three weeks planning their big prank – which Monty stubbornly calls a “lesson” - and Miller slowly starts to understand why Clarke and Bellamy love doing this so much. It definitely is fun coming up with ever-crazier schemes, especially because Monty gets really into it as he debates everything from logistics to sound effects with flushed cheeks and wild gestures. It's entertaining but not great for his capacity for planning complicated pranks, because Miller's thoughts when he watches Monty like that tend to go back and forth between must protect and I wonder what else he does with that much passion and, well, it's a lot to take.

Plus, they have to meet in secret which rules out Clarke's apartment and also makes the whole thing feel like a secret tryst. Miller suggests meeting up at his favourite coffee-shop, which has amazing coffee and even more amazing brownies, and the first time Monty bites into one, he makes a positively obscene face and then moans:

“I love you just for bringing me here!”

Miller wonders if it's too early to propose.

Three weeks of planning and one trip to the electronics store later, they've finished their big project. Monty has also managed to find an apartment, which gives them the perfect excuse to get Clarke and Bellamy in the same place: A moving-out / housewarming party for Monty. Luckily, Clarke has brought Monty along to some outings with a few other co-workers because he doesn't know anyone else in town, so inviting Bellamy to their little shindig is perfectly plausible. Talking him into arriving earlier to help Clarke and Monty set up is just as easy, because Bellamy apparently still feels guilty about the mailbox incident and is looking for ways to redeem himself.

Which, oddly, is also what he's been doing in the three weeks since then, to such an extent that people at the office have begun talking. Bellamy has been perfectly nice and cooperative to Clarke, has brought her coffee when he went to get some for himself and Miller, and helped her with filing a complicated patent claim. As for the prank war, there has been absolutely nothing to report, and if he's being very honest about it, Miller has to admit that the two seem to have learned their lesson and don't really need another one from him and Monty. But of course, cancelling on Monty, who bought an actual drone for their prank, is not an option.

Miller actually only has a very vague idea what the drone is for – he has long since lost his grip on the finer details of their undertaking, and is now only carrying out what Monty tells him to do. It involves water balloons and a complicated system of strings and pulleys, and that's before the drone even comes in. But Monty knows exactly where he wants everything to go, thanks to a sketch he drew on what looks to be blueprints of Clarke's apartment, and Miller simply follows his orders and tries not to fall off the ladder Monty made him climb when his brain suggests that Monty ordering him about is actually pretty sexy.

By the time they've finally finished their preparations, Miller is a nervous, sweaty mess, but Monty seems happy.

All that's left to do now is get to their carefully chosen look-out spot on the roof, power up the drone, and wait. From their spot diagonally across from Clarke's apartment on top of the L-shaped building, they have an excellent view on the balcony, and can soon see Clarke and Bellamy step outside and look around with confused faces.

One click on a remote makes the shutters roll down inside Clarke's apartment, effectively trapping them outside. Then, while they're still dealing with that development, Monty deploys the drone. It whirs straight down to the balcony and triggers Monty's mechanism as planned.

A volley of water balloons rains down on them, from high enough above that they're sure to pop when they hit their target. Bellamy actually lunges protectively towards Clarke and tries to cover her head and shoulders with his arms, which Miller would find touching if they hadn't driven him up the wall with their antics before. Only when they're both completely drenched, sundress, slacks and white shirt clinging to them respectively, does the attack stop.

Miller watches with baited breath what will happen next, Monty's tight clutch on his arm suggesting that his partner-in-crime is just as anxious.

But for a moment, what happens is... nothing. The two just stand there, staring at each other, then staring around the balcony – and then slowly, slowly they seem to be putting together the pieces.

“We should have installed mics so we can hear what they're saying,” Monty says, truly regretfuly.

And that's when the yelling starts.

“Nevermind about the mics.”

Even without microphones, it's not too hard to piece together what's going on down there: Clarke and Bellamy seem to somehow both blame the other for what happened to them, and are now trying to out-shout each other with their wild accusations. But despite the anger in their voices, Miller notes with interest, they're moving closer and closer together, and Miller has a feeling it's not because they're each planning to wrestle the other to the ground.

"I don't think it's working." Monty comments, sounding a little disappointed. “They were supposed to realize the error of their ways and feel bad about their stupid pranks, but so far they're just yelling at each other.”

"Trust me, it's working." Miller says, completely confident that their plan is working, and Monty raises a sceptical eyebrow. "At least, it's working the way I was hoping it would."

"And how did you hope it would work out?" Monty asks, looking genuinely curious, and for a moment Miller is distracted when a gust of wind ruffles that thick, glossy hair of his.

When he tears his eyes away to look back down on their two victims, it is to find that his prediction came true. Smiling smugly, Miller nods his head in the direction of the balcony below, and Monty follows the movement to see that Clarke and Bellamy have stopped yelling at each other and are making out. Passionately.

When he turns back to look at Monty, the other man is staring, open-mouthed, at him and Miller definitely feels smug.

"Like that. There won't be any more pranks at work. They'll be too busy banging."

Monty makes a face, but when he tentatively peeks over the balcony railing again, Clarke has hopped up on the patio table and Bellamy, standing between her legs, has happily attached his lips to her neck.

Miller shudders and quickly averts his eyes as he realizes the downside of witnessing first hand how well his plan worked out.

"I will never get that memory out of my head, will I?"

"Probably not, no." Monty laughs, but he's beaming and Miller's heart skips a beat – and then Monty's expression changes ever so slightly: his exuberance is dimmed by hesitation, his eyes narrow briefly as if he's considering something. Then they fix on Miller's eyes, not without flickering down to his lips first, and Miller's throat goes dry.

"We could make some new memories though," Monty suggests innocently and licks his lips, and Miller growls and surges forward to kiss him. Who'd have thought Clarke's sweet, nerdy friend would have that kind of game? Miller thinks vaguely, then Monty pushes back and snakes his arms around his back and Miller stops thinking entirely.

He learns two things that day: 1) Glitter really doesn't come off easily because Monty still has some in his hair and 2) Monty is a phenomenal kisser and there's a chance Miller will never want to kiss anyone else again.

All things considered, vandalism may not be a valid form of flirting. But no one can say that it isn't effective.

#bellarke #bellarke ff #minty #minty ff #minty fanfiction #both bellarke and minty happen but with a little more minty I think #prank war #modern AU #coworkers #I have no idea if the glitter stuff woult work the way it does here #but oh well #my writing #look at that something productive did come out of my saturday after all

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mzhong2014 · 4 years

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My Promised Land: Key Takeaways

I read My Promised Land because I knew nothing about the Israel-Palestine conflict and thought that this book would provide an illuminating perspective from the Zionist point of view. When I read the first couple chapters, I was immediately engrossed by the beautiful prose that embodies the spiritual, earthly, and violent identity of Israel. This is not a historical nor a policy book. Shavit wrote this as a book of the people, telling personal anecdotes that convey a greater message about Israel’s contradictions, challenges, and triumphs. Here are my takeaways from the book.

Israel is a home for those who before have never had a home

“Yet as the nineteenth century draws to a close, these Jews realize that as much as they care for Europe, Europe does not care for them. For these newly emancipated European Jews, Europe is like a surrogate mother. They look up to her, they worship her, they give her all they have. Then, suddenly, these devoted sons of Europe notice that Europe won’t have them. Europe thinks they smell. Overnight there is a new, strange look in Mother Europe’s eyes. She is about to go insane. They see the insanity dancing in her eyes, and they understand that they must run for their lives.” (19)

The imagery of the abandoned child frequently reappears throughout the book, constantly reaffirming the surrounding society’s hatred for Jews. “Zionism was an orphans’ movement, a desperate crusade of Europe’s orphans” (33). One does not need to restate the horrifying stories of genocide committed against Jews to capture the palpable loneliness of these people. Under this context, Shavit presents the establishment of a permanent homeland as perhaps the only long-term solution to persecution.

But Shavit does not depict his people as childlike. Rather, he portrays founding Israelites as “almost Bolshevik” (28), utilitarian, disciplined, and masculine. Whereas the US has been blessed by ocean moats that kept foreign invasion at bay for much of its history, Israel is the exact opposite. Existential threat permeates their way of living. Shavit writes, “If Israel had been kindly and compassionate, it would have collapsed. Denial was a life-or-death imperative or the nine-year-old nation into which I was born” (162). Regardless of your political views towards Israel, one cannot but help feel some admiration for their resiliency.

Israel is a country of contradictions

The most glaring contradiction is how Israel conquers a land under the fear of persecution, only to push out tens of thousands of Arabs who had been residing peacefully in this land for years. Shavit tries to wrestle with this contradiction, at times chalking up occupation to naïve ignorance, at other times taking full responsibility for the brutality of its reign. Sometimes, Shavit’s defense feels flimsy. “Is this colonialism? If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck” (18). But he continues, the first British Zionists “don’t really represent an empire but a deprived people seeking the help of empires. […] I see no evil. I do not see a condescending attempt to take the poor man’s lamb.” Yet, even if these Zionist individuals did not set out as agents of a colonialist power, how could they remain ignorant of an inevitable conflict with Arab locals? Even if Arab nationalism had not yet been fully formed and Palestine was not yet a sovereignty, can Shavit honestly believe that these Zionists were not trespassing on their land?

However, at this point, there has been such a cycle of retributive justice that occupation is no longer a question of righting wrongs. As Shavit writes about the Conquest of Lydda, “War was inhuman, but it allowed one to do what one could not do in peace; it could solve problems that were unsolvable in peace” (118). Whereas Shavit suggests that early settlers of Israel were able to overlook their Arab neighbors, Shavit recognizes that contemporaries can no longer ignore this fundamental contradiction of Israel. This is a contradiction that must be acknowledged and reconciled at a personal level.

In his attempt to reconcile the atrocities that Israel has committed with the mission that Shavit believes in, he writes, “On the contrary. If need be, I’ll stand by the damned. Because I know that if it wasn’t for them, the State of Israel would not have been born. If it wasn’t for them, I would not have been born. They did the dirty, filthy work that enables my people, myself, my daughter, and my sons to live” (131).

Shavit is not blind to how contemporary Israel treats Palestine. He writes, “For its outstanding economic, social, and engineering achievements, the new Israel paid a dear moral price. There was no notion of human rights, civil rights, due process, or laissez-faire. There was no equality for the Palestinian minority and no compassion for the Palestinian refugees” (151). While fulfilling officer duties at the Gaza Beach Detention Camp, Shavit reflects on his complicity in repressing Palestinian rights: “They scream because my Jewish state makes them scream. In a methodical, orderly, and absolutely legal fashion, my beloved democratic Israel makes them scream” (232). Do democracies only act as democracies until it becomes inconvenient to do so?

Shavit also recognizes that the political tides have turned; the international community now views Israel as the occupier rather than the occupied. It is a Middle East super power with developed nuclear weapons, a booming economy, and a vibrant startup scene. But this country has been receding politically over the past few decades. After the humiliating Yom Kippur Wars, “Suddenly the government of Israel was willing to give up everything. […] there was cynicism, nihilism, defeatism” (207).

Yet as Israel progresses as a nation-state, Shavit recognizes that future generations have become more distant from the political context for the country’s origination story. They have become degrees removed from the Holocaust. Perhaps it is inevitable for every future generation to become lazier and more disillusioned than the prior. They are not as willing to tolerate mandatory conscription or occupation of Palestine. Jews abroad, particularly in America, feel even more distant from their heritage. The question thus arises of how far are millennials willing to go for the Zionist mission.

Israel is a country rooted in the land

Shavit digs his fingers in every nook and cranny of Israel’s terrain to pay homage to the land and fruits it has born to its people. Shavit focuses Israel’s origination story on the barren harsh land that must be conquered only through sheer labor and will power. “Face to face with the elements, face to face with brutal existence, no protection at all. And here, in this desolate valley, we must sculpt our lives. From these rocks we must carve our new foundation” (33). Shavit glorifies the cultivated gardens, the plots of orange groves, and olive oil estates. After all, it is these cherished orange trees that gave rise to Israel’s dominance in citrus export. It is these individual remote farms that sowed Israel’s astronomical rise from the isolated to expansionist power. It is in the idyllic terrain where both Jewish and Palestinian terrorists hid automatic rifles in orange crates as they faced the inevitable conflict. But the earth doesn’t just provide sustenance for Israelites. They represent the uprooting of history, the conquering of the land. In one olive tree nursery, “Jewish workers rallied one day and uprooted the olive trees planted by Arab workers, replanting them with their own hands in order to make a national Jewish statement” (100). Even manual laborers are deeply consciousness of the Zionist mission.

I remain fascinated and intrigued by Israel, and would love to read perspectives from opposing points of views regarding the Israel-Palestine issue. For now, I have begun another book, Jerusalem: The Biography, to deepen my understanding of the underlying religious issues and history of this region. Israel remains one of the most fascinating trips that I’ve taken to date, and I would love to go back whenever this pandemic is over now that I have a greater appreciation for its culture and history.

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caraudiologic · 6 years

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Buyer’s Guide To Car Subwoofers – Which Products Are The Best?

If you are on a constant quest for low frequencies in your car audio setup, a quality subwoofer is your ticket to audio satisfaction. The best subwoofer for car is much more than just a speaker that you toss in your trunk.

Adding bass to your car audio doesn’t mean that you will be drowning out the neighbors as you drive by — the low-end output of subwoofers is all about balance.

Editor’s Recommendation For Car Subwoofers

All-in-one construction means no need for a separate amplifier

Big bass sound in a small package

Installation is a breeze

Good value

READ FULL REVIEW >>>

Check It Out

We collected information on the top subwoofers on the market, reviewing specifications, features, sound, ease of installation, price and more. Here are the ten best car subwoofers for your audio needs.

Best Subwoofer For Car Reviews Right Now

1). Rockford Fosgate P300 – 12 Punch 300 Watt – Best All-Around Subwoofer

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At its most basic, a subwoofer is a low-frequency speaker. To get sound to the sub, you’ll need to send it power, unless it comes with an onboard amplifier, such as the Rockford Fosgate P300 and other models included in this review. The P300 comes in a sealed enclosure, for tight and accurate bass sound.

The built-in 300-Watt amplifier means all you have to do is connect power and a sound source and you are good to go. With a sleek but not flimsy form factor, the P300 balances powerful performance with ease of installation.

This subwoofer’s enclosure is perfect for behind truck seats, or in the trunk of even the smallest cars. The enclosure is sturdily made of ⅝-inch MDF, and covered with industrial heat activated vinyl. Besides being a solidly-built all-in-one bass solution, the P300 also has an array of features to help step up your car audio game.

Dial in optimal low-end with its built-in adjustable bass boost EQ. With the included remote bass level control, you can adjust on the go.

At around $200, you won’t break the bank with the P300 either.

Our Verdict :

For true plug-and-play functionality, in a fully loaded and powered subwoofer, it’s hard to beat the Rockford Fosgate P300. If you are looking for a simple bass solution, you can be up and running with this subwoofer in no time.

This sub also works well as an add-on to an existing system with a built-in subwoofer. Just connect it to your audio system’s subwoofer.

All-in-one construction means no need for a separate amplifier

Big bass sound in a small package

Installation is a breeze

Good value

A bit hefty for its size.

Users complained about longevity, with some only getting about 18 months’ use

thumbs-down

Some also complained of poor-quality enclosure build

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2). Orion HCCA122 – Best Car Subwoofer For Deep Bass

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Up until now, we’ve been looking at all-in-one subwoofer units. These excel in convenience, but often are lacking in power. If you want to feel the bass in your bones, and wake up the neighbors a few blocks away, you need a product that is on another level entirely.

The Orion HCCA line of speakers are pricey and deceptively simple. One looks just like replacement speaker, but under the hood, there is enough handling power for 5000 watts.

The Orion is a product for the car audiophile. You’ll need a separate enclosure, and you’ll need to power it with an appropriately-rated amplifier. You might even need to tweak your electrical system, especially if you plan on running it at full blast more than just every now and then. Once set up and dialed-in, this subwoofer can be your own earthquake machine.

Unless you are a car audio savant, don’t try installing this beast on your own, otherwise you risk voltage dropping. But if you are looking to win a car stereo competition, Orion subwoofers can be your ticket.

Priced around $500 for one speaker only the Orion HCCA122 is a monster that will take your car audio to unchartered depths. You have to be pretty serious to dabble with this one, as it may be too much for most people to handle.

Our Verdict :

Wow. The Orion HCCA122 is impressive and a formidable choice for someone who is serious about bass. Great for anyone looking to enter a car audio competition, but for casual listeners and enthusiasts, it may be overkill.

Tread lightly and make sure you know what you are getting yourself into, and make sure you get these installed by a skilled professional.

Scary deep bass

Serious, professional-grade low frequency response

Extremely high-quality build for function and durability

Scary deep bass !!!

Possible voltage dropping if not calibrated properly

thumbs-down

Need for a second backup battery

Check Latest Price

3). MTX Audio Terminator Series TNE212D – Best Traditional Enclosed System

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Some subwoofer units include speakers and an enclosure but require separate amplification. As you move up the food chain from all-in-one units, you may want to use a separate amp to dial in your ideal sound. In such case, the MTX Audio Terminator is a speaker and sealed box combo that can handle a ton of power.

Each speaker is 12 inches, and built out of polypropylene cone. Each speaker also has 1200-watt maximum power and 800 watt peak power. The speakers are protected by a rubber surrounding, have two-inch aluminum voice coils and a 48-ounce magnet. Paired together, you get bass that is about as low as it goes.

The enclosure is constructed out of ⅝-inch MDF and aviation grade black carpet. It’ll look great in your trunk but be careful, as it might rattle your trunk into pieces.

As a sealed box unit, the sound is deep but not too muddy or “boomy”. As with any speaker-only setup, the amplifier that you pair with the subwoofer is going to be key to your sound.

Priced around $150 for two speakers in an enclosure, you get a quality build and deep bass sound for a bargain. Keep in mind that you’ll also have to buy an amplifier and wiring kit, unless you already have these.

Our Verdict :

Another big punch of bass, but more restrained than the Orion, the MTX Terminator is an excellent choice for those who want a traditional box enclosure design for the trunk. Don’t let the seemingly low price mislead you, though, you will have to make considerable additional investments to make sure your audio system is properly balanced.

If you are looking for an easier route to low-frequency audio, stick with a slim all-in-one unit.

Well-built and meant to take a beating

Dual-subwoofers really thump

Reasonable price for the power

Huge enclosure might not fit everywhere

Installation takes skill

thumbs-down

Prone to overheating if pushed too far

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4). Rockville RW10CA 10” 800 Watt – Best Value Subwoofer

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Slim or low-profile subwoofer models are designed to deliver powerful and responsive bass when space is at a premium. Space is one of the main concerns when choosing a subwoofer. The Rockville RW10CA delivers the sonically low frequencies that will keep your music thumping.

As a slim subwoofer, the Rockville RW10CA is meant to slip under a car seat, such as the front passenger side. Since it is only 2.7 inches thick, it’ll fit almost anywhere.

With a built-in amplifier, you can be assured that your car interior will not be a jumble of cables. Rockville has further streamlined installation so that all you need to do is wire the high-level input to one of your car’s existing speakers.

For performance, the RV10CA delivers bass boom, but it’s not going to rattle the neighborhood as you drive along.

Priced around $120, the Rockville RW10CA is an inexpensive option for those seeking a compact all-in-one subwoofer.

Our Verdict :

Like the Rockford Fosgate P300, the Rockville RW10CA is an all-in-one solution for adding deep bass sound to your car audio. It is a no-brainer choice for those who are space-counscious, but if you are looking to win a competition against a booming back trunk enclosure, this is not the unit for you.

Price is a major benefit here, but you sacrifice sound quality and power in the tradeoff.

Slim form factor means you can just slip it under the seat

Will add a nice touch of bass to your system

Designed for installation ease

Low price makes this subwoofer a good option for entry-level car audiophiles

Lacks the bass oomph of other subwoofers

Not built for durability

thumbs-down

Although its slim build is a benefit for installation, the sound is not the best when your subwoofer is under a seat

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5). JBL GT-BassPro12 – Best Heavy-Duty All-in-One

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For those looking for a more rugged enclosed subwoofer, the JBL GT-BassPro 12 provides all of the bells and whistles of an all-in-one subwoofer with a heavy-duty design. This is not a sleek speaker or one that hides its raw power.

With an exposed speaker and industrial-chic over-sized speaker protection bars, this JBL screams to be displayed in your ride. The bars are distinctly cool-looking but are quite functional as well. You’ll be happy they are there to protect your subwoofer when you load your trunk with luggage and other items that could damage other subwoofers.

The JBL GT-BassPro12 features a built-in 150-watt amplifier, 12-inch polypropylene cone speaker, and a proprietary Slipstream port that eliminates noise at high output. The open design and vented pole piece mean that the powered speaker’s motor stays cool, which improves performance and reduces distortion even at the highest levels.

Installation is easy, and the unit includes signal-sensing for automatic operation when it senses and audio signal.

Priced around $200, the JBL GT-BassPro12 is a good option for those seeking an all-in-one speaker that pushes the low-end while providing rugged sharp looks.

Our Verdict :

JBL’s products are top notch, and the JBL GT-BassPro12 is no exception. If you want an all-in-one subwoofer that combines ease of installation with stellar performance and rugged features, JBL has the perfect solution for your car. It’s not the cheapest option on the market but is reasonably priced for its features and performance.

Rugged build looks great

Powerful sounds fill up your car

Easy to install

Intuitive remote and auto on and off make operation a breeze

Bass sound can be a bit underwhelming

The unit is heavy and somewhat large

thumbs-down

Low Watt Amplifier

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6). Kenwood KSC-SW11 – Best Compact Power

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Much like the Rockville — best value-priced model on this list — the Kenwood KSC-SW11 is intended for consumers who want to add a little punch of bass without having a car audio system that takes over all of their interior space and storage.

If you have limited space, but want an all-in-one subwoofer with easy controls and installation, take the Kenwood for a spin.

Although it adds some bass, do not expect this model to shatter windows or rumble enough to soak your bones with low frequencies. The built-in amplifier is only rated at 75 Watts, so you already know the Kenwood is not a powerhouse.

The Kenwood shines, however, as a sleek addition to an existing audio system. Its aluminum casing looks great, even if you are just going to toss it under the seat out of sight. Like most all-in-one units, installation is easy. Kenwood also provides a remote, so adjustments can be made on the fly.

Priced around $130, the Kenwood KSC-SW11 is a suitable entry-level option for those who want sound without bulk or gaudy visuals in their cars. It’ll add low-end, but you will not be floored by the bass sound.

Our Verdict :

Kenwood is clearly marketing this product to those who want a quick and simple way to accentuate their existing audio system. Certainly not for an audiophile, the Kenwood KSC-SW11 will round out your music and give it more depth, but those with stock premium audio might not notice much of a difference from their existing sub.

Super small form factor takes up no space at all

Durable aluminum case looks great

Installation ease

Low power lacks and real oomph

Not much ability to customize settings

thumbs-down

Small speaker means low volume

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7). Rockford-Fosgate PS-8 – Best Power Saver

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One concern with powered subwoofers is how they draw from your car’s electrical system. Some can be run right to your battery, while others click into to any of your car’s various power supplies. Sometimes, either choice means that you might have a device pulling power, and potentially draining your battery or affecting the performance of other systems.

Nicknamed the “Punch Single 8,” this is a full enclosed small form factor subwoofer. It has a 150-Watt Class D amplifier and an 8-inch shallow woofer. As an all-inclusive subwoofer system, all you have to do is hook up to a power source, ground the unit and tap into an audio signal and you will add some bass depth to your sound.

While user reviews are generally positive for the Rockford Fosgate PS-8, some have reservations about to cost versus performance ratio. It’s well-built and a good choice for those looking to save space, but the small speaker reduces the bass effect considerably.

Priced around $190, the Rockford-Fosgate PS-8 is a suitable entry-level option for those who want sound without bulk or gaudy visuals in their cars. It’ll add low-end, but you will not be floored by the bass sound.

Our Verdict :

Another solid small all-in-one subwoofer, the Rockford Fosgate PS-8 will add warmth to your tone, but you won’t be rattling any windows. Since it is only two inches tall, it fits nicely under most front driver or passenger seats.

With the smaller speaker and less power, you’re going to want to keep it as close to the listener as possible

Great for cars where space is at a premium

Makes for a good addition to a well-balanced audio system

Easy to install

Pricey for the low power

8-inch speaker underwhelms

thumbs-down

Doesn’t come with RCA jacks

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8). Kicker 10TC 104 – Best Truck Style Enclosure

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Say you want a solid subwoofer in an carpeted enclosure that you can match to an amplifier, but you don’t have the room for a three-foot box in your trunk. A truck style enclosure is just what you’d need.

Kicker makes well-regarded products, and its line of best subwoofer for car are top notch. The 10TC104 lets you add 10-inch subwoofer power to your truck.

A truck-style enclosure is not as sleek and portable as a slim all-in-one that could nestle under your passenger seat, but it is designed to fill a typical truck cab with bass resonance.

The Kicker is rated for up to 300 Watts, so make sure you pair it with amplifiers in the 50-300-Watt range. It has a slanted enclosure, about eight inches deep at the base and 3 ½ deep at the top. It is constructed out of ¾ inch MDF and is wrapped in carpet.

Priced around $100 for one 10-inch speakers in an truck style enclosure, this unit is good for those who have tight space restrictions but who want to use their own amplifier.

Our Verdict :

The Kicker is loud and brings the bass to smaller spaces. Its heavy-duty construction ensure that it is long-lasting, as long as you pair it with the right amplifier.

Users discuss how they easily blow out the speaker with a 600-Watt amplifier, which is understandable as that is too much power for this unit. Best of all, this unit is fairly easy to install if you have a little bit of car audio know-how.

Perfect fit for a truck cab

Reasonable amount of bass. Not too boomy, but better than other low-priced options

Low price

10 - inch speaker pushes less power than a 12 - inch

Vented box can dilute bass frequencies

thumbs-down

If you have a premium audio package, you might not notice any added low-frequencies

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9). Polk Audio db1040 – Best Budget Option Speaker / Marine Style

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If you have an enclosure, but just want to swap in some low-end performance, a single voice subwoofer such as the Polk Audio db1040 may be a good choice.

This replacement-style speaker is simple but built to withstand the harshest conditions. Ideal for marine applications, but also works well if you are concerned about moisture.

This 10-inch black dynamic balance polymer composite cone speaker can handle up to 270 Wats continuously, but is rated 540 Watts peak performance. With this Polk speaker, you can expect deep, precise, gut-shaking bass.

Polk Audio manufactures some of the best audio components on the market, and the db1040 is no exception. User reviews liken the sound to a club-like experience. The sound booms, but you don’t lose the clarity and crispness of other tones. Match it with a sealed box and you’ll get distortion-free high-quality bass.

Priced around $60 for one 10-inch speakers. You’ll likely want to get a pair of these, and a sealed enclosure. You will also need a separate amplifier and wiring in order to get your sound bouncing.

Our Verdict :

For those looking to upgrade their existing subwoofer enclosure’s speakers, or for those who are looking to build a new setup from ground zero, you can’t do much better than Polk Audio’s products.

The marine rating on the db1040 means that your boat can have booming bass now, too, or if you need a waterproof solution for when you want to keep the top down on your jeep, the durability won’t disappoint.

Excellent sound and responsiveness

Thick bass, lows without sounding distorted

Waterproof construction is great for boats, but also good for other applications

Affordable Price

Requires some level of know-how or professional installation

Better options available at higher price points.

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10). JL Audio 12W7AE-3 – Best Luxury Replacement Subwoofer

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If you’ve made the plunge to high-end car audio, you may wonder where you can find the apex of bass sound. JL Audio’s single 12-inch subwoofer may be the pinnacle of boom.

You may look at it and remark, “it’s just a speaker,” but this deceptively simple-looking item is the key to low-frequency. Entrance to this hallowed hall of booming sound is not cheap, and you better make sure you have the right setup to take advantage of all the drippy, pulsing beat that this beast can push.

Let’s get the scary part out of the way first. The JL Audio 12W7AE-3 costs $800. That’s just for one speaker. Does it provide $800 worth of performance? Here are the specs: It has a peak power rating of 2,000 Watts, but optimal range is between 400- and 1,000-Watts RMS.

It has a solid cast-alloy basket, so it is one heavy speaker at 25 pounds. This heft lends to its sound and ability to handle the most thunderous bass imaginable.

This speaker is considered to be the best subwoofer for car on the market. If it weren’t for its prohibitive price, we’d crown it a must buy. For the serious car audio freak, it is a sight and sound to behold.

Our Verdict :

This speaker rocks. It is insanely durable, too. Users report abusing these things for years, without any sound degradation. The JL 12W7AE makes a good case for quality over quantity.

Many reviews of other speakers talk about how many years (or months) it took before the speakers had to be replaced. With the JL, you pay a lot up front, but likely won’t ever need to buy a replacement.

Amazing sound

Luxury build. The speaker exudes a high-end feel, because it is made from the best quality materials

Durable, so it will last through whatever you can put it through

Insanely expensive

Heavy, and while this add structure to your sound, it also may require a sturdier enclosure

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The Ultimate Buyer’s Guide To Car Subwoofers

Subwoofers provide the bass component to your car audio system. Sure, your stock speakers all carry a bass sound, and you can dial in more or less bass from your equalizer, but bass that moves and shakes can only come from a subwoofer.

Many typical stock car audio systems provide a small subwoofer, often installed under the rear window area in most sedan or coupes and in the back ceiling of SUVs. These speakers drive low-frequencies, providing not so much sound but a feeling.

For those looking to ramp up their car audio, an aftermarket subwoofer can be added in a few different ways. First is simply swapping out stock subwoofer speakers for another brand. But, speakers don’t work on their own. If your system is low-powered, you may need to revisit your entire system to ensure that you have a properly rated amplifier. These speakers can range in price from $30 to a few hundred dollars each.

Another option is to get an all-in-one subwoofer unit. These units take out a lot of the guesswork, providing power through a built-in amplifier. These come in all shapes and sizes, but the most popular ones are sleek and easy to store in your car.

Several models are meant to be installed under a car seat, for example, while others are a bit bulkier and need to be placed in a trunk area. These all-in-one units are great as gateway subwoofers for those who want to add some bass without becoming a neighborhood nuisance.

All-in-one units are easy to install, and typically do not cause issues with your existing power supplies. You are unlikely to win a car stereo sound-off contest with these products, but for personal listening enjoyment, convenience and price, these options are hard to beat. Prices for all-in-one systems range from $100 to $300.

If you want to add serious meat to your sound, you’re going to need to look for a more powerful system. This will require investing in a powerful amp and appropriately-rated subwoofer system. If you are ratcheting up the bass, it’s best to ditch your factory enclosure for a sealed or vented enclosure box.

Many opt for a dual-speaker subwoofer system as it provides twice as much thunder. There are many speaker choices, from inexpensive simple subs to ones that can cost close to a $2,000 for just the subwoofer speakers.

Within the professional-grade subwoofer space, there are many additional choices depending on your vehicle type and need. Some enclosures are large, intended as units for trunks. Others are smaller, designed to go behind seats in two seaters and trucks.

Enclosures can be built out of different materials, but most are made out of think MDF and are coated in automobile-grade carpeting. Some have metal or rubber reinforcement to protect against damage in trunks or other spaces.

If you are opting for premium audio, and want to pair a receiver with an amplifier and high-powered speaker system, it’s a good idea to invest in quality installation. The power requirements of some amplifiers and subwoofers can tax a car’s battery and alternator.

Some setups require additional batteries, too. Make sure you know the total expenditure needed to attain your optimal sound. Once those estimates are tallied up, it may make more sense to look at the all-in-one systems.

So, Which Subwoofer is the Right for You?

Subwoofers provide a sound dimension that is often omitted in everyday life. We spend a lot of time in our cars, and for many their ride to or from work is their time to soak up their favorite tunes. If you want true bass presence — and once you experience this effect, all other car audio systems will sound thin — you luckily have several options.

If cost and convenience are important, opt for an all-in-one unit such as the Rockford Fosgate P300. It is sturdy, has a sealed-enclosure construction and won’t cost you an arm and a leg. This all-in-one unit hits all of the marks for a good bass sound, and you can likely hook it up yourself.

For the more adventurous who may be looking for something much more powerful, MTX’s Terminator is a steal for $150. Pair it with a 300-Watt amplifier and you’ll have a booming back trunk that’ll be the envy of other audiophiles.

Just watch out for scornful looks from your neighbors — not everyone is all about that bass.

That’s it! I hope this guide helped you choose the best subwoofer for car. Let me know if you have any comments , i’ll be happy to answer.

The post Buyer’s Guide To Car Subwoofers – Which Products Are The Best? appeared first on Car Audio Logic.

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