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thedisneychef · 1 year ago

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Best 2 Burner Gas Grill to buy (Reviewed & Rated)

There’s nothing better than a summer barbecue. Whether it’s a get-together with friends or family, or just a romantic date night for two, grilling out is almost always the most fun way to enjoy your food. Grills are also perfect for cooking for large groups of people and can be used year-round. So If you're looking for the best two-burner gas grill to buy in 2023, we've got you covered. In this article, we will review and rate 3 of the best 2-burner gas grills on the market today and show you how to get a suitable pick, how you should narrow down your choice, and other aspects. If you're in the market for a gas grill with a different number of burners, we've got you covered as well. Our guide to the Best 4 Burner Gas Grills offers a range of options for those who need a bit more cooking space, while our list of the Best 8 Burner Gas Grills is perfect for those who love to entertain large groups. And if you're still considering a 3 burner grill but want to see more options, be sure to check out our article on the Best 3 Burner Gas Grills. With these comprehensive guides, you'll be able to make an informed decision and find the perfect grill for your outdoor cooking needs. Best 2 Burner Gas Grills Reviewed 1. Best Overall: Char-Broil 463673519 Performance Series 2 You're in the market for a grill, and you know what you want: Quality of construction. The Char-Broil Performance 300 is your best choice This grill will last you for years to come. The stainless-steel mesh is corrosion and rust-proof, making it excellent as an outdoor fixture in your backyard or patio. The infrared technology allows the grill to consume 30% less gas than traditional grills, and it has a built-in thermometer so you can keep an eye on your food while it's cooking. Worried about fighting to get your grill to light? No problem with this grill, all you have to do is push it and wait for the magic to happen. Additionally, the fold-away shelves ensure that users have a place to set their tools or prep recipes. What a top gas grill !!! Highlight: ✔️Corrosion and rust proof. ✔️ Durable. ✔️Infrared cooking technology. ✔️Fold-away metal shelves. 2. Best High End: Weber Spirit E-210 Gas Grill This grill is made of high-quality stainless steel that will stand up to the weather and heavy usage. Its cooking surface has cast-iron grates that are a pleasure to use and will endure for many seasons. The only moving parts are the ignition button, the knobs, and the handles. It's also an attractive-looking machine that fit in well with my Kitchen Aid appliances in my outdoor kitchen. Cooking on it was a delight. It heated so evenly that I didn't have to worry about hot spots burning my food. A rack of ribs or pork butt turned out perfect every time. The temperature gauge read accurately and maintained a steady temperature once ignited (it even showed up on an infrared thermometer). Cleanup is a snap as the unit has removable catch trays for grease and cooking juices plus it's very easy to clean itself. The Weber E-210 Grill has all the features of high-end grills at a fraction of their cost. If you're in the market for a new grill but don't want to spend $1000+, check out this Weber model before making any decisions. Highlight: ✔️Smooth rolling wheels. ✔️ Storage shelf. ✔️Flavorizer bars. 3. Best for Camping: Char-Broil Classic 280 The Char-Broil Classic 280 is a portable two-burner gas grill that can handle anything from grilling steaks to baking cookies. That's why it is ideal for camping vacations. The second kitchen room is the smallest of the three, yet it can still accommodate a whole supper for four people. If you wish to grill more than just a couple of burgers at once, you'll love the extra room afforded by the third cooking surface. Even while this grill isn't as powerful as some of its competitors, it's perfect for excursions where you won't have access to a full propane tank. In addition, the Piezo ignition mechanism ensures that your burners will fire instantly, so you can start preparing supper right away. Highlight: ✔️Lightweight ✔️ Has a side burner. ✔️Instant ignition. Beginner’s Guide to 2 Burner Gas Grills What is a 2 Burner Gas Grill? A 2-burner gas grill is a gas-powered grill with two distinct zones of ignition, allowing the operator to cook two foods at different temperatures side by side. This space is still covered by a single grate, as in a standard BBQ, but the user has far more flexibility in terms of what they may cook on the grate at the same time. Most 2-burner gas grills have wheels, but not all of them are equally mobile. Some may weigh up to 90 pounds, making them about as immovable as your range stove top. A two-burner gas grill, as the name implies, has two burners and runs on either natural gas or propane. The twin burners enable you to split the cooking surface into two distinct heating zones with temperature control. These devices are solely intended for outside cooking. How a 2-Burner Gas Grill Works When you ignite the gas burner on your grill, the flame heats up the bottom grate and then travels via conduction through the metal bars to heat up your food. The convection in this process makes sure that all of your food gets cooked evenly. A properly-operating grill will have an even temperature across its entire surface so that nothing burns or undercooks. 2 Burner Gas Grills work by using two burners to cook at two different temperatures in order to achieve better control over what you're cooking. This setup can be employed as either a high-low setup or a side-side setup; depending on which method you choose, one side will be hotter than the other while both sides will still offer enough heat for grilling steaks at medium or low temperatures (since steaks need different kinds of heat). Why Should You Buy a 2-Burner Gas Grill? Gas grills are a great alternative to charcoal grills. They're easy to use, they have consistent heat, and they're fast. If you're thinking about buying a gas grill but aren't sure why you should get one over other types of grills, this article will answer all your questions! Fast cooking performance Cooking performance is one of the main reasons to choose a 2-burner gas grill over a 3-burner gas grill. You’ll get the same cooking space from both types, but 2-burner grills tend to heat up and cool down faster than their larger counterparts. This means you can cook several dishes at once without them overcooking or getting cold before you’re able to serve them. 3-burner grills will also cook faster than 4-burners due to the fact that they have more surface area (and therefore more heat) per burner. So while they may be better suited for large gatherings than 2-burners are, they won't be able not only because they're so large but also because it takes longer for all those burners to reach cooking temperature Easy start One of the biggest reasons you should choose a 2-burner gas grill is that it starts faster than a 4-burner one. This is because the surface area is smaller and the flames are more concentrated, so there's less chance of them going out before they get started. Temperature control You may not know it, but your gas grill actually has two burners. You can use the knobs to control both of them independently and on their own temps. This gives you more control over how hot or cool and where the heat is coming from. Let's say that you are grilling burgers tonight but want some peppers and onions to go with them. You can turn one burner way down so that it doesn't burn the veggies, while still getting an even cook on your meat! This is also helpful if there's no wind blowing during your cookout; turning off one of the burners will help keep temperatures consistent throughout all parts of your meal, instead of having some areas burnt while others are still raw. For example: If you have a brisket cooking low and slow (about 250 degrees), turning off one side might be good enough for maintaining a consistent temperature in relation to how long you've been cooking (and since brisket takes a while). Keeping both burners at high temperatures throughout would result in uneven cooking and weirdly charred edges alongside undercooked middles so this method works well if you're trying something new or just want better quality food every time! How to Choose a 2 Burner Gas Grill Before you buy a new gas grill, there are a few important things to consider. You want to make sure that your grill has the right size, fuel type, and features for your needs. So here’s how to choose the best 2-burner gas grill for your backyard! 1. What Type of Fuel Does It Use? - Natural gas: If you have a natural gas hookup on your grill, then you're good to go. A lot of people prefer natural gas because it doesn't produce any smoke and it's easy to light up with just the flick of a switch. - Propane: This is probably the most common type of fuel used in grills today since it's so easy to find. You can buy propane tanks at most hardware stores and big-box retailers, or even fill them up at RV parks or campgrounds if you intend on using your grill away from home. - Charcoal: You'll need charcoal briquettes for this kind of grill--the kind that is made from compressed sawdust mixed with binders like starch or plant fibers (like bamboo). Some grills come with special charcoal baskets that hold the briquettes so they don't fall out easily; others have grates made specifically for holding coals steady so they don't shift around while cooking. 2. How Big Is It? The size of your grill is a major factor in determining how much you should spend on it. For example, if you live alone and don't cook for other people very often, then a small one-burner grill might suffice. But if you have a family or plan to throw parties often, then something a little more substantial may be in order. If you're uncertain about the size of your next grill, talk with friends and family members who own grills and ask them what they think would work best for your space needs. 3. What Is the Build Material? Beyond the burners and stainless steel grates, you’ll want to pay attention to the material that makes up the rest of your grill. Depending on what you plan on cooking, you may have specific requirements. For example, if you like to cook with charcoal or wood chips, then cast iron will be a must-have for its porous nature that helps absorb flavors from whatever it is cooked over. Alternatively, if you plan on cooking primarily burgers and chicken wings (and don't mind cleaning up after yourself), then stainless steel would be an excellent choice as it's durable and easy to clean. 4. What Additional Features Does It Have? You should also look for additional features that are important to you, such as: - If you're looking for an electric grill, check that your gas grill has an electric ignition. This will allow you to turn on the gas and light it with a simple push of a button. - If portability is important to you, look for a portable grill with wheels so it can easily be moved from place to place. Some grills come with their own stands, which means they won't need wheels or stands when not in use but they'll still take up room on your deck or patio instead of being stored away inside your house like other types of cookers would be. Chances are good that if someone tells me they want something portable, this is what they mean (and why I mentioned it). But there's no rule saying we can't get both! In fact... Why should you trust TheDisneyChef We have figured out via our research that more than 15 burner gas grills are currently available on the market. After taking into account information, we can cautiously gather in-depth information and turn it into the best list of 3 of the best perfect options for you in order not only from best to worst but also from both price and performance standpoints! We carefully obtained more than 1000 user reviews using extensive data systems to rank these items based on customer feedback. Most potential customers choose their choice based on average prices below $294.93- with many even cheaper than $112. This proves that smart shopping is always the priority of potential clients in recent years. Therefore, figuring out our research could help you make sure what kind of investment is worth it and which one should be avoided at all costs. Overall, a 2-burner gas grill is a great option if you don’t have room for a large grill or don’t want to spend a lot of money. It is perfect for small patios and balconies, apartments, and garages. No matter which grill you select off this list, you are sure to take home a 2-burner gas grill that will make all your grilling dreams come true! Read the full article

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anandrettisimp · 7 months ago

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Honestly, beyond being in their respective series for ten billion years, no.

Like, I’ve been genuinely racking my brain to try and figure out who best to compare Scott Dixon to from F1.

He definitely has the prodigal son lore that Verstappen, Hamilton, Vettel and even Alonso all had.

He made local headlines in 1994 after a crash in a saloon car race where he crawled out to reveal a cushion taped to his back to help him reach the pedals cause he was, you know, 13 years old. Dixon had to get special dispensation from the motorsport governing body in New Zealand to even be allowed to race cars cause it wasn’t yet considered the norm to have kids move up so quickly.

I almost want to say Ferrari era Michael Schumacher but that’s not right either. Dixon has never really had the same ruthless edge like him.

Honestly, I think Alain Prost might be the best comparison. If he can win you the race, he’ll win you the race. If he can’t win the race then he’s getting you at least a top five. He’s rarely hard on equipment and because of that he can do a stint far longer than what is expected.

Like, all the fans joke about how Dixon can make fuel but just there in Long Beach we had Will Power, who is no slouch as a two time series champion, Indy 500 winner and record holder for pole positions, finished 15 seconds down the road from Scott.

On the same strategy.

With Dixon having to fight off Josef Newgarden and then Colton Herta for the win.

But even then, I don’t think Prost is right.

Cause this Long Beach win puts Dixon at 20 years in a row of having at least one win a season in IndyCar.

That’s right, the last time this man went through a no win season was in 2004. That’s the year Kyffin Simpson, the baby of his teammates, was born. In fact, since 2001 when Dixon first began in top flight open wheel racing in America, the only other year he failed to put a win down is 2002.

Yes, he won in his rookie year, three races in (and was the then youngest race winner). He won his first title in 2003. Since then, do you want to know the number of times he finished the championship outside the top 3?

It’s six.

Three of those he was fourth.

He sits second on the all time list for race wins behind AJ Foyt.

He’s also got a couple of Rolex from winning Daytona 24.

Honestly I don’t think that there is an F1 driver to compare him to because none of them really give justice to Dixon’s achievement.

Just know that somewhere out there is a universe where Williams decided to chuck JPM or Ralf Schumacher for him after he tested for them.

it’s my first time watching indycar, is fernando alonso a good f1 comparison to scott dixon??

#indycar #scott dixon #sorry this is such a ramble #but I honestly was trying to figure this out #and like #Dixy is Dixy

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emordnilapxpalindrome · 3 years ago

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anyway thinkin about how my university tweeted that one of their men's hockey players set the league's record for career shutouts at 27 shutouts and then when a female journalist pointed out that he only has the MEN'S record (ann-renée desbiens is the all-time record holder, with 55 shutouts), the account HID HER REPLY...and then in their apology tweet, they referred to desbiens only as the WOMEN'S record holder and did not acknowledge the fact that her record is OVER TWICE AS HIGH AS HIS

#that's on us and we need to do better #fuck off #bestie you censored a woman calling you out and then in your apology you still didn't give her full credit #like no disrespect to dryden mckay at all!!! 27 is quite a lot for a college career #considering you only have a couple of years to rack up those numbers #which makes it incomparable to nhl records #and he is an impressive athelete!!#but FIFTY FIVE #minnesota state university mankato #mnsu #minn state #mnsu hockey #minnstate hockey #hockey #college hockey #ncaa

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internalsealpanic · 3 years ago

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For What It’s Worth

Summary: A deal with the devil goes smoothly. a/n: As a joke, my co-writer suggested I post daddy kink fics on Father’s Day. Here’s Roman’s bwahahhahahahahahah. No further thought process was put into this. warnings: dub con, daddy kink, cockwarming, and infidelity/cheating

Masterlist

The men drag you into a lavish room. It's sleek with large glass windows and a wooden floor shined like mirrors. You think it's pretty but you can't help but think of how impractical it is to have such large windows until you consider how much money Roman Sionis has and how he'd probably spend it on bulletproof windows. You rub your arm as one of the men shoves you forward to face none other than Black Mask himself. You try to keep your posture straight which is made easier by the fact that the man refuses to even look up from his work.

"Boss, we found this woman lurking in the halls. She said she had some business with you."

"I- I work for the Maronis… Sort of.." You didn't lie about working for the Maronis but Sal Maroni wasn't in town and he certainly didn't have a message for Roman. "But I'm not here for the Maronis today, Mr. Sionis. I'm here to ask for an extension for my husband's debt."

This gets Roman to look up from his paperwork. "How did you get past my security?" He says, scrutinizing. Your limbs are shaking. Maybe it would have been better if you could convince Mal to just skip town but that wasn't an option. Roman already had men looking for him.

You swallow in a vain attempt to steady your rapidly fraying nerves. "I told them I was here to deliver a message from Salvatore Maroni and showed them proof," Your voice gets quieter as you speak, "that I forged." You clear your throat trying to wrestle up some bravado. "Anyway, I'm here to try and ask if you can extend my husband's debt."

Roman waves one of the men over. The man thrusts his hand out for the ID you'd shown him earlier and the supposed note from Maroni. They all look well made. They would probably be good enough to fool even a detective given you were able to clean them up a bit. Roman is quietly impressed but he's also annoyed that you had managed to sneak in and disturb his work. "Who would that be?" He asks, not looking up from your work.

"His name is Mal... Mal (L/n)." Your husband has worked for Sionis even before you two were married before he came clean to you. He swears he'll get out of the life as soon as he manages to pay off this debt. He swore on his mother. Roman is looking at you, brow raised and mouth drawn into a flat line like he really can't remember who Mal is. How can he not remember someone his people are hunting down?

"He-- he runs drugs for you." Still nothing. "And he- he told me he owes you a large debt and that's why you've been sending men to find him for the last few days." You say in one long breath. You were exhausted just thinking about the false facers hanging around outside your home and the number of times they've harassed your neighbors for Mal's whereabouts.

"Oh yeah, him." Roman says, setting down the ID and resting his chin on intertwined fingers.

You dig your nails into your palms. It was uncomfortable the way he's sizing you up.

Roman looks away from you momentarily, focusing instead on his glove and what you assume is a spec of dust pinched between his fingers. "So what do you have to offer?"

You hold back a relieved breath and begin rifling through your bag. "Well, we can offer our house as a collateral and there's also the shop and maybe... the car but that may not be worth much..." You really didn't own anything substantial. Nothing that would interest a mob boss anyway and you didn't have any valuable information from working with the Maronis. But what you could do was beg. Men in power love nothing more than a reminder of their power and even with your meager possessions with enough honeyed words, you could buy your time. You just need to buy Mal sometime and you could work something out. "If we offer up more of our possessions as collateral we could- we could pay the debt off in a couple of years. Maybe a little more. Mal and I just need a bit more time."

A dark chuckle rises from Roman's chest at the hopeful look in your eyes. "You think you can pay that off in a couple of years? How much do you think your husband owes?"

You stop rummaging through your bag. Your head tilts up slowly to look at a grinning Roman. Nervously, you fidget with your ring as you rack your brain for the exact amount Mal told you. Was it a hundred grand or was it more? Did Mal even really tell you or did you come up with some reasonable number?

"Sweetheart, I asked you a question," Roman says with a snap of his fingers.

You flinch. "He- He told me it's only a couple hundred grand-"

Roman barks out a laugh that echoes in the room. "Either your husband is stupider than I thought he was or... Do you think I would send men after him for chump change?" He says, voice rising with his temper.

"No..." You whimper shrinking in on yourself. Mal, what have you done?

He likes that sound. "Sweetheart, that husband of yours owes me 5 mil." Roman leans back in his chair to look at you. Not bad, he thinks. "Sir that- that can't be right..."

Oh, Roman definitely likes the way 'sir' rolls off your tongue. "You're right. It's technically 5.4."

You choke. Your stomach is hurtling to the ground with a splat.

Roman beckons you to come close. You're too dizzy and numb to disobey. You don't even react when Roman slides you into his lap or when he places a hand over one of your thighs. Your body reacts to his touch but your mind is still caught up in the numbers. How could you not have known Mal had so much debt? How could he hide it from you?

"Do you want to tell me I’m wrong again?" He asks, squeezing your thigh. You whimper. The simple touch and the gravelly voice in your ear was much more attention than what you'd gotten in months. You try to shush yourself but your breathing is already starting to get labored. Roman's lips quirk in amusement as he feels your body starting to tremble. "I can show you just exactly what he spent 5 million on if you’d like."

You really don't know if you want to but it's not like your input really matters at the moment. Roman snaps his fingers and one of the men in the room hands him a tablet. He grasps your chin with a firm hand to make sure you're paying attention. You try to wriggle out of it for a second but then give up, paying full attention to the numbers on the screen. "He spent an awful lot at one of my whore houses last month."

You go completely still at the words. You look hurt but nowhere on your face could Roman find any spec of surprise. He wouldn't doubt that this isn't the first time your husband strayed from you considering how much of his debt was spent there.

Your eyes go misty. Your body begins to tremble with barely contained anger. You try to breathe and calm yourself. Digging your nails into your palms, you walk yourself through a breathing exercise. Mal told you it was the last time when you'd caught him for the second time. He begged you on his knees for you to stay telling you that it was gonna be the last time.

Roman's hand slides up your inner thigh, inching your skirt up. "Did you know that’s what he spends his nights doing?" Your breath hitches you clamp your thighs together.

"I bet you’ve been so lonely haven’t you darling?" Roman whispers, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He presses circles into your flesh. "Barely touched…barely kissed. Just waiting for your dearest husband to come home." He nips at the spot behind your ear that makes you pull his shirt into a tight fist. Your head is hazy with a swirl of emotion but all you can concentrate on is the way Roman's touch is so firm against your body. "And here he is, at the Rosette Club." Roman places the tablet in your hands for you to see your husband standing impatiently at the front desk.

You let out a strained breath and your legs easing at his touch. Roman rewards you with a pleased hum. "It's funny," he says, inching your skirt up. "The girl he requests the most has a passing resemblance to you. Wonder why he would bother paying if he's got you at home begging for his cock." Roman brushes his lip against your neck. Your body reacts wonderfully to his actions, leaning back to give him space to do as he pleases. Your warm body is so pliant to his touch and your voice is so sweet. "I can’t understand why he’d pass you up for another whore."

Roman's hand brushes the edge of your lace panties and he smirks. "Darling, did you wear those for me?" He toys with the fabric before stroking your clothed pussy, feeling the wet heat. "Would you like to hear my counteroffer?"

You nod, trying to keep quiet. You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. Roman grips your chin to force you to look at him. "I'm going to need you to be a good girl for me first." You swallow. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?"

You nod your head vigorously. It's hard to care about how eager you seem.

"Words, doll." Roman says coolly, yanking your head back by your hair.

"Yes- Yes, sir. I'll be good."

You just miss someone wanting you.

"Good,"He releases your hair. He grips your hip tightly as he starts undoing his belt. You suck in a sharp breath when his cock springs free. Roman can see you staring which certainly inflates his ego. "Sit on my cock and don't move until I tell you to, got it doll?" He says, stroking his cock.

You nod again, then quickly add: "Yes, sir."

You shift to face him, flicking your eyes towards the other men in the room. Roman snaps his finger. The men leave without a word. You're not stupid enough to think it's purely for your sake but you don't really think about it much as you push your underwear to the side.

"Good girl." Roman says, gripping the back of your neck as he guides you down onto his cock.

You cry out in short pants as you slide down his length. You feel your insides stretch for him. The veins of his cock hitting all the right spots. Roman grunts as your warmth swallows him down to the hilt. You let yourself adjust to his girth, grinding your hips against his.

Roman leans forward. You brace your hands against his shirt, waiting for him to pound into you... he doesn't. You open your eyes and watch Roman put on glasses and continue to work.

You squirm, trying to get him to move. Roman answers with a warning squeeze of your hip. "Now sit still sweetheart, I’ve got things I need to finish."

You pant heavily and wrap your arms around his neck sitting as still as possible.

Roman makes this incredibly difficult as he trails a hand up and down your spine and kneads your ass while he works.

You quietly breath daddy into his ear while he works in both desperation and retaliation.

Roman's patience is waning based on how hard he grips your flesh. It makes your skin heat and the coil in your stomach wind tighter. You squirm a bit trying to shift the angle just a little, just enough to hit the right spot.

"Sweetheart," he says in a warning tone, "what did I tell you?"

"I’m sorry daddy, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable." You nuzzle your face into his neck breathing deeply. He smells like cigar smoke and whiskey.

Roman doesn’t have the heart to scold you since you're behaving so well. "Are you always this good for your husband?" Roman sneers, squeezing your ass and moving your closer to him.

"Yes sir. I try to be." You're incredibly embarrassed considering the situation and trying so hard not to move your hips.

"You’re this well behaved and he doesn’t fuck you?" Roman grinds out as you squeeze around him. "Then again, you are married to an idiot."

Roman tilts your chin to look at your face. Your husband really is an idiot, Roman thinks as he looks into your desperate, half-lidded expression.

"No wonder you were so touch starved," he says, starting to bounce you on his cock, "it’s a crime to leave a sweet ass like this untouched for months."

You let out a shaky breath as he continues the lazy pace, grinding his cock inside you in shallow strokes.

"Were you hoping he'd finally fuck you if your saved his skin?"

"Maybe." You whimper. You close your eyes, winding your arms tightly around his shoulders. You push your husband out of your mind and do your best to concentrate on the cock pulsing inside you. It was far too easy especially when he'd apparently pushed you out of his long before. "I- I just miss being touched."

Roman brings his hand down on your ass and the slap rings out in the room. Your greedy hole strangles his cock. "Don't worry sweetheart, daddy will take good care of you." He grinds out.

It's about another hour before Roman gets done both from being purposefully slow and being very distracted by all the little things your body does to let him know just how desperate you are.

Roman, finally done with his paperwork, runs his hand through his hair and leans back into his chair. That might have been the longest hour of his life. "Get off." He orders, brusquely. His patience was a hair's breadth from completely dissolving.

You whine and pout at him but use your shaky limbs to get off of Roman, moaning as his cock drags against your walls.

He can see the desire slick on your thighs. "Get on the desk and spread your legs for daddy." Roman says, loosening his tie.

He stands up and pushes you back onto the desk. You scoot back, careful not to disturb the paperwork much to Roman's amusement. You spread open your legs wide, the bottom of your heels catching his legs.

You're so wet for him that you're dripping onto the desk. He looks into your debauched face and Roman's cock twitches in his hand. You would definitely make a killing at the Rosette Club. Roman pumps his cock as he watches you stroke your clit in time with his hand. You purr his name softly as you look at him with hooded eyes.

"Christ sweetheart, look at you. You're such a good little slut." Roman grinds out.

"Please, daddy."

"Put your fucking hand away." He growls.

You pull your hand away from your pussy and bring it to your lips. You lick up a long stripe, lapping up your own juices.

Oh, he is definitely keeping you for himself.

Roman pulls you closer to him and hooks your legs around his waist.

You wrap your arms around his neck. "Please daddy, I need you." You dig the bottom of your heels into his ass drawing out a sharp breath from him.

Roman kisses you, running his hands up and down your sides. You melt into the kiss consumed by the touches and passion you've missed for months.

He pulls back and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting it before licking over it to soothe the sting. The head of Roman's cock teases your folds, parting them just slightly. Your hand finds its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and he goes readily, deepening the kiss.

Roman slides his cock back into you and you scream into the kiss. He fucks you recklessly into the wood of the desk. It screeches and scrapes against the wooden floor as his cock thrusts deep into your pussy.

Groping and claiming every part of you he can reach, Roman pulls back from the kiss. He yanks on your shirt, causing one of the buttons to pop off, then sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You hiss his name, the stinging on your shoulder mixing with the pleasure.

"Tell me doll, has that husband of yours ever made you feel this good?"

"No, sir. Ah! He- He's never been able to- Ah! Satisfy me like this."

"That's right, baby. You'll only be hungry for Daddy's cock, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." You say in a breathy moan, dragging your nails across his neck.

Roman hisses a litany of curses in your ear as your pussy milks his cock, gripping him and making it harder for him to pull away. He pushes you flat on your back as he thrusts his cock deeper into you.

He bites your shoulder again. Your walls spasm around him. "You tighten so nicely around me when I do that." Roman hisses bites you again, then groans. "Christ, baby, just like that."

After a few more thrusts, you cum on Roman's cock with a pathetic little whimper. He empties himself inside you with a groan.

You lay on the table flat on your back, your breathing harsh.

Roman straightens himself out like nothing ever happened. He sneers down at you. You look completely fucked out and hazy from your orgasm.

"You're going to work for me," he says. You sit up and nod as best you can. Roman leans forward, nibbling on your neck and caging you in with his hands. "And you're going to come to my office any time I ask."

"I-" You swallow down the raspiness of your voice and try to sound as pleasant as possible. "Of course, sir."

Roman yanks your head to the side. "You’re such a good girl for daddy." He purrs, sucking a mark behind your ear. "Tell me the truth sweetheart, does that two-bit gangster even know you're here?"

You shake your head. This was your last resort plan after your contacts backed out of helping you get out of the city. You could easily create new identities for you and Mal but getting out of the cities without being hounded down by False Facers was an entire different problem. One you didn't have time or the resources to resolve. But somehow all that planning felt like it went to waste. Mal was never going to change for you.

"Mal thinks I'm going to my boss to beg him for a loan."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because Mr. Maroni would never lend me the money if he knew what it was for. He thinks Mal is a waste of an investment..."

"You really are wasted on that husband of yours." Roman tuts, stroking the side of your face. You soak up the affection shamelessly. You know full well it's wrong to seek comfort in someone else especially someone like Roman but... you feel lonely and used and you just want someone that wants you so openly.

"Get dressed," Roman says, taking out his phone, "and get your things from that shit hole you call a house."

You open your mouth to ask him why and where but he cuts you off with an annoyed look.

"If you're going to be my pet, I can't wait an hour to fuck you."

Your cheeks heat up as you shuffle to get dressed. You look nice bent over and flushed, Roman thinks. Maybe he should bend you over his desk sometime. No point mulling it over now. He'll have time to think about it.

You quietly mutter a thank you sir before exiting the room with your legs awkwardly clamped together, your cute little cunt still filled to the brim with his seed.

It should take you about an hour to pack your things and get back to him. Maybe longer if that husband of yours begs you to stay. Well, Roman can eliminate that second possibility right away.

He opens his phone and sends a video with the message: "Your debt is paid."

If your husband is smart, he'll skip town.

If he's stupid, he'll rack up more debt.

If he's even stupider, he'll protest.

Either way, Roman has you and if you're as smart as he thinks you are, you'll be worth the 5.4 mil in and out of his bed. If you aren't and he gets bored, he could always just stick you in one of his whore houses and make a killing. There's no shortage of men with deep pockets who'd like to get their hands on a hussie like you.

It's all a win-win for Roman.

#Roman Sionis #roman sionis x reader #Black Mask #black mask x reader #dc smut #smut

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bts-hyperfixation · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years ago

Text

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #my writing #pillarroomies

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levi-ish · 4 years ago

Text

Little Talks | 5

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

Words: 3k

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Your taste in tea is shit” Levi scanned through the old teabags you had lingering in your cabinets.

“Sorry if I don’t have enough money to buy those fancy blends you like” you rolled your eyes as you leaned further into the throw pillows you had on top of your old couch.

“Tch.”

You turned around and watched the man tumble around with your mugs and you knew that he hated your unmatching sets, always making small comments about them. He then set for the most common ones you had and brought them to you after quickly making your drinks.

It had been a few weeks since the night when Levi comforted you after your ex-beloved’s visit. You two held hands and pretended that it was nothing while watching random cooking shows, then after you fell asleep he left but not before making you another cup of tea that you woke up to find inside your microwave, sitting there waiting for you.

You thanked him in person two days after and exchanged numbers because he claimed that he didn’t ‘trust’ your building’s security. Even when you told him that Zeke only got up because your concierge knew him.

But now things were better than you could expect. Levi would drive you home almost every night and wait for your ‘ok’ text when you took the elevator, to be sure you were safe and sound. He mostly made you tea at 4AM when the bar was closing and you had no classes the day after, and you two hung around at your apartment quite a lot, watching shitty movies and listening to him complain about how you were doing your laundry all wrong.

Whoever saw you two together would think you were a couple of elderlies married.

“I can’t believe he didn’t like how she plated it” you pointed at the TV, quite angry at the cooking show passing on. “She even put those fancy herbs.”

“It’s shit”

“Everything is ‘shit’ to you” you rolled your eyes.

“Only the things that are shit” Levi replied as he sipped on his tea.

You rolled eyes once more as you felt the shift on the sofa, not noticing his movements if it weren’t for it. Levi held his phone to his eyes and a sheer of light illuminated his strong features, highlighting that glorious jawline and the thin lips you—

What?

Shaking your head, you quickly got rid of those thoughts, adjusting your own position and making your back fall more comfortably on the cushions. Levi let a small sigh and brought the teacup back to his mouth, drinking slowly.

“Hange again?” You asked, giving him the side of your eye as you stirred your own drink.

“Kirstein this time” Levi replied, letting out his signature ‘tch’. “I should’ve been there. Those idiots can’t do their jobs properly without supervision.”

“Hange forcing people to listen to their theories again?”

“No. Jean broke the sink and is trying to blame it on the weather somehow.”

“How…”

“No fucking idea.” Levi put his phone back inside his pocket and drank the last of his tea, sighing after. It was a heavenly vision to see, you weren’t gonna lie.

With a small yawn, you stretched your legs and downed the tea in one gulp, earning a side eye from the man who wasn’t pleased you were appreciating one of his fancy blends. The minty taste lingered on your tongue as you licked your lips, and you could smell the hint of cinnamon wandering in the room, mixing with Levi’s cologne that you so much adored.

“I’m bored” you let out, pouting as you rested your face on the pillow closer to his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be if you stayed quiet and watched the show.”

“Do you hate me or what” you scoffed, pouting even more.

Levi turned to you, watching your expression and that’s when you noticed how close you were to him. His breath fanned over your face and you swore you could see his lips twitching and him inching closer, clearing your throat, you looked down, completely breaking eye contact.

“Do you really wanna know?” He replied and you pushed him. “At least clean your hands before touching me.”

“You wish I was touching you” you bit your lip and rose your brows teasingly.

He turned to your face once more, eyes dead serious focusing on you and he licked his lips slowly, posture completely changing.

“Maybe.”

He caught you off guard with that comment, making a small shiver go down your spine, but you decided that brushing it off would be better than acknowledging new reasons to make the relationship you two had more uncomfortable. You knew Levi wasn’t very pushy about things and probably would forget about it as soon as you would, without giving it another thought.

Oh well.

“Uh…” you tried to say, licking your lips again after your mouth went full dry “… are you hungry?”

“No” he said, eyes still on you as you tried to get his attention away from you.

“Uhm… then do you wanna do something else or…?”

Levi inched closer now, his nose brushing against yours and breath warming your chin as you rubbed skin together, feeling each other scents and every little movement was big enough to make both bodies swarm under the tension in the room.

“Levi… what…”

But before you could continue, he closed the distance, lips colliding as you felt the dry specs of his chapped skin brushing against yours. Is this really happening? What…? It was, and he was still going, hand now holding your nape to have your face closer to his than before, as if he never wanted to let go. You turned to the side to allow his tongue inside, feeling it dancing with yours in a difficult and shy but intense tango that seemed too familiar but strange at the same time.

It was a sensation you never wanted to end.

But as soon as it started, it stopped; his hand left your neck and went back to his side, and his usually unfazed look now seemed more panicked, as if he was already regretting it.

Please, god, don’t regret it. Please…

“I—”

You were abruptly cut off by him standing from the couch and grabbing his coat by the rack, quickly opening the door and leaving your apartment, leaving you by yourself and with empty lips but a full heart that felt too heavy for your shallow chest.

Things changed since that.

Levi completely disappeared. Hange and Jean would say that he would leave the key to them and only showed up in the mornings to rearrange things the way he liked them but left very quickly each time. He didn’t text and you didn’t try to, knowing it would be useless since we are talking about him, most emotionally unavailable person to exist. You still went to the bar every night, trying to catch him around and maybe clear things up, but failed miserably.

You didn’t regret it, not at all. In fact, you wished it would last longer, even though it was enough material for your mind to wander around the floor full of eggshells that were your memories from that night. You wanted more, you wanted him, and now you weren’t ashamed of admitting it to yourself.

And you were almost giving up seeing him again, if it weren’t for Sasha, who was livid over how he had reacted and insisted on dragging you back to the bar.

So there you were, Mikasa holding one of your arms and Sasha holding the other, both giving you pep talks on how you should go there and confront him. You knew he was working tonight for sure, that’s because Mikasa told you she’d texted him about it before and learned he was taking some weird shifts and closing on weirder times. Annie was busy with her two-year anniversary with Armin, so she couldn’t come, but she did text you to be brave. The way Annie would, I mean, sending a small “punch him” and a smiley face.

“C’mon (y/n), you look hot and he will regret leaving when you show up” Sasha’s grip on your arm tightened as she tried to drag you inside. “Tell her, Mikasa”

“You look hot” the other woman said, and you knew that she wasn’t putting much effort in because it made you uncomfortable, otherwise you’d have been inside already since Mikasa was stronger than you two combined. “Levi’s an idiot.”

“I don’t wanna go” you said, whining as they let go of you for a moment. “He did what he did and I was pretty much rejected. I don’t wanna push harder.”

“What’s even his problem?!” Sasha crossed her arms, her expression turning into a mad one. “Was he always an idiot, Mikasa?”

“He changed a lot since he was left at the altar.”

“What” you and Sasha said in unison, shocked by the new piece of information.

“Did I never mention it?”

“No?” You frowned, coming closer to her face. “What do you mean by ‘left at the altar’?”

“Exactly that.”

“Mikasa” Sasha pushed her lightly.

“I don’t know exactly, I was 15, but he was getting married to this girl and she left him the day of the wedding.” Mikasa said as if it was nothing. “Everyone was there to see, and he was devastated.”

That left you wondering… a lot. Why’d Levi never tell you about that? You two went into some deep discussions at times, talking about stuff that you never dared to share with others, and he did open up a little about some of his things, but this? You thought that would be something to tell someone you would think of kissing. Unless he wasn’t really thinking those things about you, then it would be a whole other topic that you were too much of a coward to consider.

Did anyone else know? You had so many questions and you really wish you had the answers because of the anxiety now growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You didn’t think that was important information to share?” You questioned and Mikasa shook her head.

“Not really.”

“Okay, we are getting in. You can deal with that later” Sasha pushed you through the door and now you couldn’t say anything else because your feet already touched the wooden floor.

It was a full house, everyone was dancing and singing along with the old jukebox and there were girls leaning on the counter flirting with Jean as your eyes wandered. Hange was mixing drinks and Levi was nowhere to see, what made you feel a lot more comfortable being there. Sasha and Mikasa pushed through the crowd and found you a place on the counter, sitting on stools and leaving you to sit in between them, so you did, and the blonde bartender was the first one to notice you there.

“Ah!” He chirped loudly, leaving the girls behind to come to you. “My favorite girl… and company, hi, hello.”

You noticed he was now flirting with Mikasa, but she just ignored his presence.

“Hot wings!” Sasha punched the counter and grabbed you by side shoulder, pointing at the shelves. “And shots, keep them coming, my friend here needs them.”

“I’m sure she does” Jean kept his gaze on Mikasa, trying to be subtle about it as you rolled your eyes at him. “Our short friend has been pretty hard to deal with lately, so without you around I already knew something went down.”

“They kissed” Mikasa let out.

“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LEVI?” Screamed Hange from where they were, coming right away and pushing Jean with their hip. “Also, hi, but answer me!”

“They kissed” Mikasa repeated, and you gave up on trying to stop them.

Hange’s hand fell on your shoulder as they approached the group further, inserting the ponytail-head in the middle and readjusting the glasses above their nose, “You and shorty? Are you kidding me?! Tell me everything!”

“I’ll leave you to deal with Hange now” Jean said as they leaned a little more into Mikasa’s side. “So… are you in college?”

She only gave him a side glance and ignored his question, making the man confused.

“Focus!” Hange slammed their fist, now sitting on your side. “You have to tell me about it!”

“Oh gosh, please let me breath!” You rose your hands and they all moved their attention to you, making you feel a little overwhelmed and guilty — they were simply curious creatures. A deep sigh left your mouth as you put your palms back on the wooden surface of the table, opening your eyes slowly. “We kissed… and he left.”

“Without saying anything?” Jean asked and you nodded. “Damn… he ghosted you.”

“He might just be too busy?” Hange suggested and you gave them the harsh glare. “Maybe not?”

“Can anyone bring me—us some wings?” Sasha pleaded, leaning onto the table.

“You two need to talk” Hange added, bumping onto you jokingly. “Kiss and make up.”

“That’s not happening.”

“C’mon, he’s in the back. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

You just lowered your head and that was enough for them to understand.

“Well, I’ll leave you be” they just gave you a slight nod and stood from the booth. “Good luck.”

You felt some warmth crawl into your belly and smiled at them, following by another glance onto the other two in front of you.

“Mikasa is such an exotic name, where did it come from?” Jean leaned further, trying his best to sound smooth but the girl’s reaction was too bothered to be working.

“We’ll leave you be” Hange said as they grabbed Jean by the nape and dragged him back to the bar.

[…]

Sasha was on her third plate of hot wings when caught the first glance of Levi.

He came from the back for a moment to grab the electric kettle from under the counter, turning around quickly as if he already knew you were around and was avoiding any type of contact. Being treated like a disease like that made you feel angry, it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong, you just kissed him back — he was the one to initiate it! The nerve of him.

You gulped down the rest of your beer and threw yourself back on the cushions of the booth, earning a look from Mikasa, but she decided to ignore it knowing you were procrastinating the inevitable, now focusing on Sasha who was unbuttoning her pants to eat more.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” Someone approached your table, hands filling the pockets of their letterman jacket and blonde hair neatly sitting on top of his head. A thin goatee painted his chin and a gentle look sat around his clear eyes.

“Yea” you shook your head, looking at his face, frowning slightly. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine, we have Latin together” you now recognized him as the boy who sat in front of you and occasionally borrowed a pen.

“Oh! Reiner, right? You want some hot wings?” Sasha was not pleased you offered, but you just ignored her growl.

“No, I’m fine, just came to say ‘hi’” he gave you a small smile. “See you around.”

You reciprocated the smile and watched as he left, and your eyes collided with cold, grey ones across the room, behind the wooden counter as you felt your heart rush again, as if it was the first time once more. Levi had his muscular arms crossed as he stared right into your soul, making cold chills run all over your spine, holding your body to make it stop.

He turned around to leave and as if a lightning had just struck in you, your body involuntarily stood from its place and rushed to the counter, running around it and pushing the backdoor open, revealing an annoyed short man holding a cup of tea.

“What the f—”

And before he could even complete his thoughts, you grabbed the cup and placed it on the table right next to you, all that before pining him roughly against the wall, staring quickly into his eyes, searching for the same flame you could see inside you now burning around grey specs. A small smile grew on your lips and you kissed him hard.

He hesitated though, leaning back quickly as if something had snapped in his mind, making him realize what was really happening there. But before you could react again, he turned you around, pining your hands above your head as he kissed you feverously, the other hand feeling the skin of your hips from under your shirt, making the chills go harder around your bloodstream.

Levi moved positions once more, taking the back of your thighs and sitting you on top of the same table, making the teacup fall to the floor, but he seemed unbothered by it. His tongue now made advances on your mouth, playing with yours in soft movements even when his own lips made harsh movements, combining everything like sugar and cinnamon, and the pine scent of his cologne invaded your clothes that were now too hot for your needy skin.

His hands clenched around the fat of your legs, holding it as if his life depended on it and he started to lower his lips to your neck, giving it open-mouthed kisses that made a small moan fall from your throat. Ashamed, you didn’t realize that your grip on his shoulders was a little too hard and he put a hand from under your chin, holding your face as he stared deeply into your soul. A satisfied scoff fell from his own plump lips and he came back to what he was doing.

That was somewhat a dream, something you had fantasized about too many times to count, and now that it was happening, you refused to pinch yourself in fear of waking up alone. But when his slim fingers rose your skirt to your hips, things felt too real for it to be just your mind playing tricks. Small whimpers escaped your mouth as Levi decided to explore around your navel, playing softly with the hem of the lacy panties you were wearing, and you thanked whatever god was up there for not wearing those comfortable ones you almost wore tonight.

He removed your panties and lowered himself now, a small breath fanned over your naked parts, making you shiver slightly, only to be held still by his own hands. He gave you a small glance before you nodded in consent, and it was all it took for him to devour you in the most amazing ways you had never experienced before.

Levi had experience — you could tell — and the passion he exhaled was enough for you to moan without caring about anything in the world. His fingers joined his tongue and played with your entrance, teasing slowly as his mouth did wonders around your sensitive bud, movements going from harsh hands to slow kisses that left you whimpering, needing everything, anything more from him, legs hooping around his shoulders while trying to make him come closer to your heat.

You whimpered, moaned, cried under his spell, and everything felt 1000x more sensitive against his touch. His fingers entered you and played around all the right places, hitting every beat to the song that played muffled inside the bar, making a small giggle fall from you and he noticed it, now fastening his pace as if he wanted to go back to shutting you up with his own mouth.

Repeatedly he hit your most sensitive spot, licking, and tasting all he could as he did his best to make you cum. It didn’t take long for you to feel the heat pooling around your stomach, throwing your head backwards and fisting his hair between your fingers as you felt his rush against your orgasm, taking everything from you simply with his mouth. You moaned loudly as you rode his face quickly, hips moving without your consent and he pulled your lips apart to clean the remnants of your pleasure, not leaving one spot untouched.

Your chest heaved from the rush as your eyes made contact with grey seas that now leveled with your height, watching you under spells of lust while he sucked slowly from his fingers, tasting every last bit of you, like you were mead for his tastebuds, and you could swear you saw his lips curl a little upwards.

“You surely know how to make a mess” he noted, a ‘tch’ leaving his mouth.

TAGLIST

@zeickv @thirstyforsometea @nalu-trashytrash @umheyasf

#levi #levi smut #levi ackerman #aot #levi x reader #zeke jaeger #jean kirstein

121 notes · View notes

kakashiswilloffire · 4 years ago

Text

Orange Sherbet

ao3 link

tw: suicide attempt, overdose, painkillers, mentions of self harm

words: 3.5k

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi.

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori.

He couldn’t help Itachi.

He couldn’t help anyone.

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Kakashi is suicidal and we hope Gai can help.

If there was orange sherbet at the convenience store on the way home, he’d stay alive. They always had pints of ice creams and other frozen treats—it was something he had promised to treat himself to when he felt this way. They had made him write down all these promises during his last few mental health sessions with various Yamanakas, listing three people he could talk to when he felt lonely, three distractions he could use to keep himself sane for a few minutes longer, three reasons to stay alive. When he felt like he couldn’t stand to live another day, he had to summon Pakkun, read Icha Icha, and eat something special and different. Pakkun was still recovering from their last rough battle together. He had read each volume of Icha Icha so many times they risked falling apart upon his next touch. So orange sherbet it was.

He’d never cared much for sweets, of course. But there was something nostalgic about orange sherbet, it wasn’t quite as punch-in-the-face sugary as ice cream, but still gave a slight buzz and coated his tongue. In the back of his mind, he remembered his father—or was it Minato?—buying a pint for each of them and snagging two disposable spoons so they could enjoy them as they walked back from the training grounds. Or was it three pints with Rin and Obito after difficult missions? Something Gai or Tenzou insisted on buying for his birthday one year? Everything blurred in his mind, unable to clearly break each memory apart to see it again.

He pushed open the door, hearing the dull chime of bells as it swung forward to let him into the packed corner shop. He made his way to the freezer without taking in any of the other colors, sights, or smells around him. He remembered his goal. One pint of orange sherbet. Buy one, eat it, and try life again tomorrow.

The freezer door was coated in a light fog, but he was in no hurry to see through it. It was just him and the shopkeep cashing out an older civilian woman. He skimmed his eyes across the rows, looking for the familiar orange carton.

Where was it?

He tried again, looking more carefully at each row, all the way across, then moving down to the next systematically. His heart rate jumped roughly 15 more beats per minute.

They always have it.

He opened the door, searching furiously with his eyes now that there was no frost in his way. He knelt to the ground, checking the bottom rows thoroughly.

It has to be here.

He glanced at the shopkeep, bagging the woman’s groceries as she talked animatedly about something he didn’t care enough to make out. He slid his headband up a couple of inches, barely exposing the crimson eye hidden beneath. With as much chakra as he dared use given his current state, he searched the frozen rack again.

Every flavor of ice cream he could think of, and a least a dozen more he would never consider. And toward the bottom, there was lime, lemon, and raspberry,

No orange sherbet.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained squatted down with the freezer door open, focused on the empty slot where it should be. The shopkeep, now with no other customers, cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Kakashi to shut the door. He blinked twice, then rose, hearing the door seal as he returned to his feet.

“Anything I can help you with?”

Kakashi blinked, again. There was all this noise roaring in his head, and he felt flushed. After a beat too long, he understood what had been asked and shook his head.

“No, ah… Thank you.”

He nodded and quickly ducked out of the store.

That was it. He had to write down three reasons. Reason one was currently out of commission because of him. Reason two had been violently abused so that he had something to do with his hands when he was so full of fire and anxiety that if he wasn’t holding something he’d— well, whatever came easiest or first. Digging his nails into his arms, forming tiny red divots. Scratching until the skin was raw and angry. Slamming fists into his thighs. Step one was always untying his kunai pouch and letting it fall. He’d learned that early on.

Reason number three to stay alive, and the agreement he’d made with himself today, was the convenience of dropping by the store for a small treat. Without that, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Walking back to his apartment, he thought about the previous weeks. Those promises had all begun the same way, but ended in a different direction. The format was simple: if blank, then I won’t kill myself today. He used to use a similar format: I can’t kill myself until blank. The problem with that was dreaming far enough ahead to find a goal worth the pain, effort, and time, and also, what to do when the goal was met. You can’t kill yourself until you make chunin. You can’t kill yourself until you complete an A rank mission. You can’t kill yourself until you make jonin. You can’t kill yourself until… what? Until I come back from a mission with no casualties? Until I can become close to someone without them dying in front of me? It spiraled too quickly to come back from.

The simpler way to go about it was short-term goals. Can’t kill yourself till after dinner. Then you’ve gotta brush your teeth. Then read a chapter of a book, or two. Then you’re tired, and you can sleep until the alarm wakes you far earlier than the sun would, and you live until you feel like you can’t again. But even that had its downfalls—if you can’t be bothered to brush your teeth tonight, you’ve gotta find something to keep going.

It had been Gai who suggested rephrasing the prompt to its latest version. On a day I challenge you, Rival, you can’t end the passion of youth! The challenges had been almost daily for a couple of months after that, until Gai had left for an extended mission and Kakashi had been thoroughly encouraged to stay a similar amount of time in the Yamanaka’s care. He’d begrudgingly admitted later that both of those developments had helped, and it had been a few years since his last bout with depression like this.

But it had been like this for a few months now, and the clouds fuzzing over his mind didn’t seem to be letting up. So he revisited some old advice. If it doesn’t rain on the way home, he’d stay alive. The sky remained cloudless. If Naruto pulled something stupid during training, he’d stay alive. It only took fifteen minutes before Sakura started yelling at him. If there was orange sherbet in the corner store—But there wasn’t.

Somehow, he made it inside his apartment, not quite recalling the rest of the walk through the dull ache behind his eyes. He slipped his unzipped vest off his shoulders, not noticing it hit the floor. Routine dictated that next was the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then—

He was sitting on the floor and wasn’t sure how he got there. Sitting was a generous term, he supposed, as his legs were fully outstretched and he was propped on one forearm with his head against the wall. His eyes slowly screwed tight as the dull ache sharpened briefly, then the static between his ears picked up in volume. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and gradually got back to his feet, stumbling into the living room.

He slumped across the couch, staring at the ceiling. He remembered the routine, drilling itself into his head. His vest was off, he needed to remove the kunai pouch, then the bandages, then the shoes, and put all of that away before removing the rest of his clothing to take a shower. After that was dinner, then two hours of free time to fill with whatever he was capable of, then bed. Lately the free time had been compromised of staring at the pile of clean laundry on the chair opposite him that had needed to be put away since Wednesday. He knew the routine. He decided to get a jump start on free time anyway.

He began counting all of the socks he could see sticking out of the collection of clothes. Organization and listing had always helped situate his mind and get him back on track. After ten or so minutes, he was finally able to unstrap the kunai pouch, tossing it across the room, taking care to not pay attention where it landed. There had been a week where Kakashi didn’t even carry the bag because Gai had taken it and every sharp object he could find in the apartment under the pretense of helping him hone his taijutsu by not relying on weapons. He had been content to let Gai keep the explanation at that. That might be something to revisit soon.

No. Gai had already done more than enough for him.

Kakashi found himself standing in his small bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d been in the living room, but he was now free of his bandages and shoes. He shrugged, reaching behind his head to untie his headband. Somehow, it had gotten knotted worse than usual and a section of his hair was caught in it. He yanked viciously at it, breathing in through gritted teeth at the sting then feeling himself relax ever so slightly. Forgoing undoing the knot, he slid it along the trapped segment of hair until the headband came free. That made it on to the counter. That never saw the floor, unlike every other part of his wardrobe had

.Next to the headband on the counter was a scattered collection of varying sizes of orange plastic bottles with thick white caps. The clinical labels all had his name, and the names of various antidepressants and antianxiety medications, as well as several painkillers and muscle relaxants and some antibiotic from the mission a couple years back where everyone returned miserably ill. Most of the bottles were empty, and he had held on to them meaning to get them refilled. He always had good intentions, but there was so many things to do in a day, and he ran out of energy usually three or four items into his list.

The one thing he could always count of having around, though, was some kind of pain relief.

Missions were hard, somehow harder now than ever with him as a jonin leader. He still had teammates, but they relied fully on him to take the brunt of every attack and to protect them at all costs. He couldn’t blame them, of course. They were children. He wanted nothing more than for them to be children and not suffer the same losses he had.

Still, he was sure to return from every mission above a D rank with at least a few nasty bruises. And any time Gai could rope him into a training session, he knew he’d come home needing ice packs and the heating pad and whatever else he could get to be able to train with his team the next morning.

And that was how he found himself glaring into the mirror, the bottle of white tablets shaking in his fist.

He was certainly in pain, that couldn’t be argued.

But how many to take?

No orange sherbet.

He shook his head vigorously again, walking back into the living room and falling onto the couch. He focused on a mark on the ceiling, breathing faster than he understood why while his vision started swimming.

There wasn’t orange sherbet.

He was a drain on Gai.

His students didn’t need him—they’d surpass him soon enough.

There were still villagers who called him Friend-Killer Kakashi,

He still saw faces every time he laid down to sleep.

He felt Rin’s blood splash onto his chest every time he used the Chidori,

Sometimes he understood what must’ve gone through his father’s head.

He couldn’t help Itachi

He couldn’t help anyone,

Sometimes, the corner store doesn’t have orange sherbet.

Sometimes, the little orange bottle that rattles doesn’t rattle any more.

He was in the kitchen, water dripping off his face and hands as he panted over the sink. How did he get here? He swallowed hard, his mouth somehow still dry, and turned the water off. The prescription bottle was laying on the floor. Then so was he. Against the cold tile, he was able to relax just a bit again.

It’d be over soon. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.

His thoughts became harder to string along, but that didn’t bother him. The thoughts he could connect didn’t sting as much as they usually did. It might be nice to put away that laundry, actually.

Every muscle was heavy. There was so much weight on him, and he couldn’t move. How much time had passed? He thought his heart was starting to race, and wondered if he was having second thoughts. But he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him any longer. He struggled for hours, days, to move his index finger to trace the hem of his shirt over and over. Could he feel it? Was he moving?

He rolled to his side, slowly bringing his knees up to prepare to stand. But his body didn’t move. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He couldn’t? His… It was his body. But? Was he? Could move? …Him?

Several centuries had passed before he heard the key in the door, and the door had already been sealed shut before he understood what the noise was.

“Ka-KASHI! In celebration of your return home from your latest mission, I made sure to grab a treat. Do you remember when you left the ANBU and we went to the corner store together? What a celebration to end all celebrations that day was! I was sure to grab the finest, most youthful of every snack—orange sherbet!”

***

Gai held the thin plastic bag up triumphantly, two pints rolling against each other. Normally he would have also grabbed spoons, but assuming Kakashi would be home, he was sure he could find two spoons somewhere in the apartment, even if he had to wash every dish himself.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that Kakashi was on a downswing lately, but he’d always been the counter to balance his own exuberance, and he had complete confidence that they would move past this, too.

He nudged the flak vest that was crumpled on the ground at his feet. Kakashi must’ve been itching to take it off to have removed it the second he got inside. But why wouldn’t he have hung it up, or placed it at least near the hamper? This wasn’t part of the routine. Had he been badly injured on this last mission?

That must be it. He would have come home, shed his clothing, and jumped in the shower to clean his wounds and begin loosening his muscles. Much to Gai’s dismay, Kakashi seemed to be magnetically repelled from hospitals, preferring to treat his wounds himself as long as he could walk. So he must have some sort of torso injury, maybe bruised ribs or a minor stab wound, and he was surely tending to it quietly deeper inside the apartment.

The laundry he had helped Kakashi wash last week was still in the soft, cushioned chair in the dim living room. That wasn’t too surprising, he knew that was the first thing Kakashi would let fall by the wayside if something wasn’t going to get done. As long as the clothes were clean, he could wear them, even if they hadn’t been neatly hung, and that was something Gai could live with.

What he did not appreciate the sight of, however, was the kunai pouch halfway under the end table near the entry way. With such an inconvenient location, Kakashi surely must have made an effort to lose the bag and the knives it contained. He felt his heart swell with pride that Kakashi had the forethought to disregard the bag, but his heart deflated just as quickly with the knowledge that Kakashi felt it necessary to do so.

As he continued into the apartment, he called out his rival’s name once or twice. He must be home. The barrier seals hadn’t been placed over the front door, which means he either was here, or kidnapped from here, and the building still existed, so he must not have been kidnapped. So where was he?

Conscious of the rapidly melting sherbet in his hand, he turned down the hallway to the kitchen to leave the bad in the freezer while he helped Kakashi, presumably in the bedroom, bandage his wounds.

As he rounded the corner, flipping on the lights as he went, he heard a small groan. Nothing at eye level. Cautiously stepping forward, his foot sent a small orange plastic bottle skittering across the tiles.

Gai was barely aware of the sherbet hitting the ground.

Kakashi looked terrible. It was not particularly strange to find him lying on the ground, but there was absolutely no color in his face. Both of his eyes were lazily opened, and neither focused on Gai’s as he kneeled down to check his vitals. His breathing was shallow and his heart rate garbage.

“What did you DO?”

Gai yanked Kakashi up into a sitting position, grabbing for the prescription bottle. Depending on what it said, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe he’d been poisoned. Maybe even food poisoning. But the signs of an opiate overdose matched the label printed in cruelly clinical terms and he crushed the plastic in his fist. Kakashi needed to get to a hospital, and he needed to get there immediately.

He gathered his rival in his arms, not noticing his weight nearly as much as he noticed how limp he was, making no effort to not be ragdolled around. As he stood up, he took stock again of Kakashi’s breathing—shallower than a moment ago. After a second’s hesitation, he reached for the edge of his mask and yanked it down under his chin, hoping the direct access of air to his lips and nose might help. His lips had some color in them still, and he looked away, trying to respect the privacy of the man who he would kill as soon as he was saved.

***

Some time in the next twenty-four hours, Kakashi’s eyes opened. When they did, blinded by the light and surrounded by medical whites, he was shocked to find himself actually in heaven. What brought him back to earth was Gai, unceremoniously slapping his shoulder.

“What, my dear, dear rival, were you thinking?” he said, thankfully not as loudly as he could have.

Kakashi was at a loss. There were dozens, hundreds of thoughts racing through his head, but they all seemed password-protected and he didn’t have administrative access. He could barely open his mouth, covered by a thin towel, let alone form an explanation that would have made any sense to Gai.

Instead, he surprised himself by feeling the towel suddenly go cold and cling to his skin.

Gai panicked for a moment at the sight of Kakashi’s tears, then took a deep breath and slid forward to the edge of his chair. He brushed a warm, calloused thumb across his rival’s face.

“I know you’re in pain. I do. I don’t understand it, but I believe that you’re in pain and we’re going to help you get better.” He took a shuddering breath, noting that it was thicker with emotion than he had anticipated. “I don’t know what the future is going to hold for us, but the passion of our youth, and especially of your youth, Kakashi, is not close to over. So, whatever it takes, whatever the Yamanakas advise and whatever you need, we’ll make it happen. I love you, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened, and Gai became aware that he had opened his Sharingan at some point to record this moment in his memory. He swallowed, feeling his throat begin to ache.

“I love you.”

Kakashi’s tears began falling in a steady stream, and Gai remained exactly where he was, brushing soft, silver hair off of his rival’s forehead. After a moment, he leaned further forward and pressed his forehead against the space he had just cleared.

In a small, scratchy voice he had not heard from the man laying before him ever in the past, he heard a whisper that nearly broke his heart.

“I love you too.”

#first fic ive written in years #hope its any good #pls let me know what you think #kakagai #kakashi hakate #kakashi x gai #kakashi angst

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

Shine a Light, part 6

A Loki series/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

He is already spinning around and bracing himself as his boots touch the concrete, half expecting to see the beast come tumbling towards him.

But the air is mercifully still where the door has snapped shut.

The evening sky above him is heavy with clouds, and a light mist of cool rain touches his face.

Cool.

He looks down at his hands. They are still shaking from the adrenaline, but no longer blue. Nor do his clothes feel rough against his skin.

Did he consciously change back to his Asgardian form as he went through the door? He is not sure. Whatever the shape or shade, his body feels oddly disconnected from his brain and Loki idly wonders if using the tempad so much within a short time span might be affecting him on a cellular level.

Then again, if that was the case would the Minute Men and analysts at the TVA not have been suffering from chronic time travel fatigue?

Who knows, perhaps they did. A number of them certainly looked worn out.

Tempad “jetlag” (an apt mortal word) or not, unwillingly running into variants upon variants of old enemies on this treacherous timeline coupled with the incessant longing for her has caused Loki’s grip on reality to slip ever more from one destination to the next.

What reality? a mocking voice in his head whispers, sounding maddingly similar to the little devil clock.

You have no idea where you are, who you are or where you’re going. You’re a man out of time, for all time, always.

He straightens and draws in a few deep breaths, surveying his new surroundings: A narrow brick terrasse. At the back wall, a glass sliding door reveals a room covered in darkness, but as nothing moves inside (his night vision remains far superior to that of mortals), Loki turns instead to take in the view of … London.

There is a taste of early spring in the air, and before him as far as the eye can see, the rooftops and spires of the city stretch out into the distance.

Millions of little lights flicker in the dark and the fumes of traffic and city grime mix with whiffs of different cuisines drifting out of air vents.

He has been here once or twice before, though not in decades, and there are whole clusters of towering structures of glass and steel that he does not recall from on his previous visit.

The house by the ocean in 2016, Budapest in 2015, New York in 2014 and now London in what he assumes must be 2013. As methodical as the backwards count has proven to be, as confusing are the destinations and varying seasons.

Only they cannot possibly be random.

Free will is an illusion.

The eerie feeling that even this, his ill-thought-out ‘quest’, is being guided by an invisible hand in charge of his destiny is so dispiriting it’s comical. He can’t quite decide whether to feel perversely honored that some higher being – a version of He Who Remains? – would take interest in toying with him, or furious that he has been singled out for this preposterous punishment of drifting through another Loki variant’s timeline.

It is no use dwelling on either emotion. He has no one to measure his pride against, no one’s expectations to live up to expect for his own, and, frankly, by now that bar is scraping the floor. There is no telling where the female variant of him went and Loki has no means of contacting the TVA or the analyst-interrogator even if he wanted to (he really does not anymore).

Loki unclenches his fists.

Seeing as each destination may have been an intentional set-up for whatever bizarre reason, the question is which character from his past he will encounter in this place. He vows to himself that no matter who he bumps into, he will attempt to reactivate that silver tongue of his and gather actual, useful information.

No more chaotic exits.

Provided no one tries to kill him on sight or squash him through a wall.

The terrace is furnished only with an old sun chair and a few plants, but the room beyond the glass door appears very lived in, with books stacked on the floor and several shelves, a large couch, a couple of armchairs, and what looks to be an adjacent kitchen area with a dining table.

Amazing how most mortals spend their years in such small, crowded dwellings.

Using only his magic, he slides open the door. It makes a low swooshing sound. Quiet as a cat, he steps over the threshold.

It hits him immediately, like walking into a wall: The scent of lavender.

And Thor.

The apartment is quiet, but they were here and recently.

He has been delivered right to them.

Loki is once again frozen in place.

His initial plan when knocking out that man in the canteen at the TVA and stealing his tempad was to find Thor and Jane at the scene of his own moral redemption (well…) on Svartalfheim. Where he supposedly saves their lives. Find them and use the momentum of their unfiltered gratitude to deliver the news that, most regrettably, the universe is likely coming to an end if they do not devise a plan together to prevent a multiversal war – preferably enlisting the help of Thor’s colleagues, too, and in the best of scenarios, Asgard.

Seek out Thor before saving Jane’s life, and Loki would have to first win his brother’s trust in the aftermath of the attack on New York. Find Thor after Svartalfheim, and there would be the small matter of explaining how the variant faked his own death and, after having thus broken Thor’s heart again, took the throne of the Realm Eternal.

Not an ideal conversation starter, even for them.

From the reel, he knows that there were other moments, much later, when he and Thor would become friendly again. After Ragnarok, before his end.

But Loki also knows that this need to get to Svartalfheim has as much to do with her as it has with Thor. Perhaps even more so.

Something important transpires between himself and the brown-eyed scientist on that brutal, barren planet and if it is the last thing he does, Loki will find out what it means.

It does not make any more sense now than it did when he sat in the kill me kind of room, transfixed by her face, but if he had had any initial doubts as to whether he was simply imagining the magnetic pull of her, those had been effectively shattered to atoms when she threw her arms around his neck outside the white house.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Nothing on this timeline seems to be playing out as it should. Which of course also means that the events on Svartalfheim may never have occurred at all.

On this timeline, a variant has more or less befriended the Avengers in the years after New York when, according to the proper Loki fate, he should have been on Asgard. And, in a few years from now, the variant will somehow be with Jane.

Jane, who has stayed in this very apartment. With Thor.

Briefly, Loki is back to wondering if Thor dies and how, but then he remembers what Bruce said about their “family soap opera” and Loki’s “victory”.

Could it be that he and Thor actually fought over Jane?

As much as he wishes it otherwise, even Loki finds it hard to believe that his variant would have beat the God of Thunder in a fight. The might of Mjølner is formidable. And though his brother has not quite discovered it himself yet, Loki has always suspected that Thor has his own kind of magic.

Then there is Jane: Without having ever conversed with her, Loki would be surprised if Jane would appreciate being treated as a prize to be won.

He is getting a headache. A rare thing for a god, but there is no putting the puzzle together with so many pieces missing from the board. Since he has no hope of using the tempad to transport him off Midgard, maybe the best thing to do would be to just wait here and see if Jane and Thor come back. He has been specifically sent here, has he not?

Without really noticing, Loki has moved to the blue, puffy couch. He sits himself down and leans back into the soft cushions, letting out a sigh. When was the last time he slept or ate anything? There is a sense of fresh paranoia as he realizes that he cannot remember doing either at the TVA, expect for when he fell asleep during research.

“Time works differently at the TVA. You’ll see”.

He stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns. On the wall opposite from the couch is a paper calendar: 2013.

He takes in the rest of the apartment but does not magic any of the lights on. There is the open kitchen, a tiny hallway with a coat rack and a few pairs of shoes, and two more doors to the left of where he is sitting.

Getting up suddenly feels immensely tasking, but Loki nevertheless hauls himself to his feet and goes to inspect the other rooms. First, there is the washroom. The scent of lavender is stronger in there, even more inviting, and spotting a stack of fresh towels on a shelf, he considers taking a shower. It is not as if he cannot easily use magic to uphold appearances (wait, were there showers at the TVA?), but that is no substitute for the soothing feel of warm water running down his body, relaxing his tired muscles.

Yes, he will shower. And cast a spell on the apartment, so he will be alerted if anybody attempts to enter.

He takes a small comfort in his powers being restored.

Loki reckons the other door leads to the sleeping chambers but just to be sure, he magics it open with a flick of his wrist.

A window with closed blinds. A wooden bookcase to one side, volumes and magazines piled high. An old, white wardrobe with brass grips. A pile of clothes strewn haphazardly on the thick yellow rug on the floor near a large, unmade bed.

Unmade – and not empty.

Loki stands perfectly still, one hand still raised.

Why did he not sense that someone was here?!

Seeing as Clint (Bird-Eye?) managed to surprise him in Budapest, perhaps Loki’s “wolf’s ears” really are failing him.

Even so, his nose is working just fine. Unless …

Then he knows. Of course.

His tongue tastes bile.

Inching closer, he sees the black hair spilling over the madras. His own lean, sculpted body whose long limbs and handsome Asgardian features Loki has never felt less appreciation for than right this very moment.

The variant is deep asleep. And half-naked under the sheets.

Something twists in his stomach at the scene. Something small and pathetic and evil that wants out. A foul, winged creature batting against his ribcage with sharp claws.

He takes another step forward.

How has the variant not been alerted to his presence yet? He seemed strong – very strong – in 2016.

Loki studies his twin’s face. His own exact face. Same high cheek bones, same long, dark lashes against a pale complexion. Only this close, the man’s skin has a faint ashen sheen to it. A few tiny beads of sweat glisten on his temples and, yes, Loki hears it now, his breathing is slightly labored.

He is injured. Enough to dull his senses.

It is not the madman from the Void, as Loki had feared after their first encounter. His energy is quite different from any of the other variants, and Loki suspects he may be the closest to a perfect double that he’s encountered yet (and please, let this one be the last. No more variants or Loki will forget which life was his own).

Stepping so close he can lean over the bed, the reason for the variant’s sedated state becomes evident:

Tied around the man’s mid-section, just about visible over the sheets, is the upper edge of a large bandage. Loki sniffs. Yes, he can sense the wound and the ugly tinge of dark magic still surrounding it, like a poisonous signature: This was inflicted by a blade of the dark elves. The variant has come from Svartalfheim after all.

The cut must have been near fatal, but from the smell of it, it is healing well, aided by the variant’s own powers and what can only be human medicine, judging by the clinical odor.

Even so, why was he not taken to the healers on Asgard?

Because he is evading his punishment for the attack on New York, Loki guesses.

Thor and Jane must have brought him to London instead of delivering him back to Odin. Although thanks to Heimdall’s watchful gaze, the All-Father will be aware of what has transpired. In his condition, the chances of the variant being able to use his magic to shield himself from Heimdall are next to none.

Still, he is here. No one has come for him yet.

Loki does not know which is stranger: That the variant is legitimately, badly injured and not currently in the process of dispatching Odin off to some home for the elderly in New York, or that Odin has allowed the variant to be taken to Midgard instead of the dungeons.

Presumably neither the All-Father nor Thor are aware of the variant’s role in Frigga’s death.

Though he tries to shake them off, the images remain crystal clear: The queen mother, killed by one of Malekeith’s monster.

A shiver suddenly runs through the variant’s body on the bed and Loki holds his breath. The man shifts under the sheets but does not wake.

So, dear ‘brother’, your Nexus event was that you nearly died for the people who care for you instead of following up your heroism with deceit, as I would have done.

What sentiment.

The winged creature growls.

Loki could kill him right now.

Kill him and take his place.

It would be easy, so easy to slit his throat. It is not as if he has not committed murder before.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it …” But this is not ‘people’.

This man is a murderer as well.

The variant has already veered spectacularly off course from his fate, and yet there are no Minute Men next to his bed, holding him accountable for his “crimes against the sacred timeline”, nor will he be apprehended in the following years.

This man got “the Time Keepers’ stamp of approval”, just like the Avengers.

It is so monumentally unfair it is enough to make Loki’s fingers grasp for an invisible dagger. The variant’s existence makes a mockery of the life that was cruelly stolen from Loki by the TVA and for that he loathes him with every fiber of his identical body.

Why should the variant have any more right to live?

Because he will make her happy.

Loki forces himself to rein in the rage. The man will play a part in Jane’s life.

He stares at his sleeping double.

The variant is worthy.

Or just simply unbearably, ridiculously lucky.

No matter what, he must live, but if Loki stays here much longer, he fears the variant’s chances of making it past 2013 will rapidly decrease by the minute.

Loki cannot stand to look at him, nor will he contemplate the fact that the variant is comfortable enough in the apartment to discard his clothes.

If he does, he will stab him to death. And relish in it.

Loki is about to magic himself away to find somewhere nearby to wait for Thor and Jane’s return, when a noise reaches him from the hall outside the apartment.

Someone is coming towards the front door, keys in hand.

Jane.

He should leave immediately. Disappear before she can turn the key in the door.

But he does not.

Still looking at the sleeping, half-covered form in front of him, something finally snaps instead. The winged creature shrieks in delight.

A quick spell ensures that no sounds from outside the sleeping chamber can reach the variant, no matter how light his sleep becomes.

Another one renders all the light switches in the apartment useless.

Then Loki swiftly picks up the clothes from the floor, looks it over, and changes his own black outfit into what he is holding: A dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft, well-known black leather pants that makes him feel both a bit homesick and a lot stronger.

Don’t do this, don’t do this.

A voice, not the clock this time but his own. He ignores it.

He does not know what Jane’s relationship with the variant is of this time or what state of mind she expects to find him in, but she has let him stay here – and right now, she is alone.

Her fingers weaving through his hair while the sun beat down on his back.

His conscience will not allow him to kill the variant, yet Loki cannot resist the temptation to be him.

Again.

But just for a heartbeat or two.

This last part he promises to himself and to her, though it does nothing to bury the shame.

Perhaps he did not change at all during his time at the TVA. Perhaps his true, villainous self just lay dormant, biding his time, while various oppressors walked all over him.

Is a stolen moment with her worth more than his honor? Is it worth jeopardizing his one chance of enlisting Thor’s help?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This is lowest you have ever sunk.

Shut up.

He steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. His hair. The variant’s hair is noticeably longer. He cocks his head to the side once and the difference is levelled out.

In the hall, Jane is fiddling with the keys. When the lock clicks, Loki is sitting on the blue couch again, trying to appear casual while his pulse is racing as fast as when Bruce turned green before him.

And there she is.

Hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air, wearing a dark green parka, jeans and boots.

Her eyes find his in the low light and a warm smile spreads on her face. His heart leaps into his throat.

“You’re back”. She does not stop to take off her jacket or attempt to turn on the lights before coming towards him and, unsure of what to say, he stands up. She stops in front of him, apparently a little unsure of the situation herself. She bites her lip.

“So how did it go?”

Her voice sounds at once both concerned and hopeful and her eyes are wide with expectation.

She is searching for some sort of positive affirmation and so Loki smiles down at her and says the only thing that seems fitting:

“It went well”.

Jane exhales loudly and her smile returns. “It did?!”

“Yes”, Loki replies, grinning at her (her smile is too infectious) and hoping she will not ask him to elaborate on whatever the subject is.

“Of course it did! I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you? Oh Loki, I’m so insanely relieved!” Jane laughs and looks like she is about to throw herself into his arms (automatically he reaches for her) when she stops herself mid-motion. “Sorry! I nearly forgot. Again!”

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, and Loki swallows hard as her fingers softly caress his with unmistakable intimacy.

“But seriously, you two didn’t fight, like fight-fight, did you …? I hope Thor didn’t …”. She trails off and looks at him questioningly.

“No. No, we didn’t fight. Don’t worry. We both … behaved”. Loki tries to catch up while keeping his replies as vague as he hopes he can afford.

The variant and Thor have had words, and Jane has worried about the outcome. Could it have been a discussion of whether to return Loki to Asgard? But then why has Thor not come back to the apartment?

In fact, why go anywhere else to talk at all, with the variant being as beat up as he is?

Because he and Thor both expected a row not suited for the indoors.

“Okay, you sit, you’ve moved around enough for one day. I’ll fix us something to eat and you’re going to tell me everything”. Jane gently lets go of his hand, then shoots him a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve emptied the fridge. Again”.

“Um”, is Loki’s inspired contribution to the conversation.

“Uh oh, pasta it is then”, Jane laughs, and goes to shrug off her jacket and boots in the hallway, revealing an open flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath.

Was she wearing the same thing that day in the desert town? It looks familiar.

Jane flips a light switch next to the coat rack and makes a “huh”-sound as nothing happens. She tries a lamp next to the dining table with the same result.

“Has the electricity gone again? Was it out when you got back?”

“Ah, yes. It was”.

“The landlord seriously needs to fix this, that’s the third time this week…good old London”. Jane scoffs but does not sound all that bothered.

“Can you work a little magic for us?”

When Loki does not move, Jane walks up to him (now even shorter without her footwear) and lightly places a hand on his arm, nudging him back on the couch. “Sit. And shine a light, please”.

He lets her push him down, and her hand moves up to rest on his shoulder. Now he is the one looking up at her. She is standing between his legs and there it is, the affection in her eyes that almost makes him forget that he is not the man it is meant for.

He wonders for how long he can get away with not saying anything remotely coherent before she suspects something’s amiss.

Obeying her wish, he holds out his palm and a small, orange flame appears, casting a warm glow on both their faces. Motioning with his fingers, he makes the flame float elegantly over the low coffee table in front of the couch where it stills in the air.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just making the electricity come back on, like last time, but okay, that is very pretty too”. Jane looks at the little light with wonder and Loki thinks he sees the stars in her eyes again.

Then her attention is back on him. Her fingers brush against his hair. They linger by the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s relief, but it’s almost like you look a bit … different”. Jane’s eyes roam his face, his hair. “Do you even still have a fever?”

Before Loki can answer her hand is touching his forehead.

Jane shakes her head in surprise. “It’s much better than this morning. Maybe it was good for you to get some real air after all. It has been almost three weeks …”

How easily she touches him. How sad that he's not used to being touched anymore.

He has only to lay his hand on her forehead in return and he could use his powers to reveal glimpses of her past (yes, he kept many of his gifts from the female on Lamentis).

More specifically, what has happened between her and the variant.

But not without revealing himself in the process.

Her left hand is still on his shoulder while the other now travels down the side of his cheek. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of her skin when he feels her bending down and locks of her auburn hair tickle his face.

He opens his eyes and looks right into hers, inches from his.

You have not earned this.

You are deliberately, selfishly, monstrously taking advantage of her.

I am a monster.

And then her mouth is on his and he does not say no.

To hell with his soul.

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

For a second, she thinks she feels him tense up.

But as soon as her lips melt onto his and he immediately, hungrily reciprocates the kiss, everything is right again.

Crazy, sure, but also oh so right.

Jane literally never wants to stop kissing him.

She actually told him exactly that the other night. Or, accidentally blurted it out as they were coming up for air, since she is falling for him so fast her brain apparently cannot keep up with her mouth.

Immediately she had felt embarrassed, but it did not last longer than it took for him to raise a teasing eyebrow at her and pull her close again. “Why, Doctor Foster”, he had purred in that low voice that he absolutely knows makes her go weak, “by all means, please…(and he’d kissed her) don’t…(another kiss) stop … (kiss) Ever”.

Then he had leaned back a little, still gently cupping her face between his large hands, and flashed her the most gorgeous, happy, wickedly lascivious smile she had seen on him so far.

Not many people radiate smoldering sex appeal while simultaneously suffering from the agonizing pain of a wound inflicted by an alien sword, but of course Loki pulls it off with flying colors.

From there on, there had been no returning to ‘movie night’.

Now, trying not to break the kiss, Jane carefully moves to sit herself down on the couch as well, making sure not to press against him. For two weeks, they have been making out like teenagers whenever they are alone. Somewhat hindered by his injuries, obviously, which prohibits him from moving much – it is both very, very hot and insanely frustrating.

The first time she had kissed him, he had been too stunned to move a muscle anyway.

The second time, he had nearly ripped the wound open again.

Since then, they have tried to take it slow, although on more than one occasion, Loki has been all but begging to throw caution to the wind – “I’ll heal!", “It doesn't hurt!” (said as he looked like he was going to pass out), and, Jane’s favorite, “It might make me heal faster”.

His impatience would be quite funny if it was not because Jane was feeling just as dizzy with want.

She has been going for a lot of runs in Hyde Park lately.

“Do you have a death wish?!”, she had asked him teasingly at one point when he had spontaneously grabbed her hand as she passed him the kitchen and pulled her tight against him, only to groan loudly in pain when her body collided with his bandage.

Then he had looked suddenly very serious and let her go, and she had instantly regretted the comment.

She knows enough about his past not to joke about things like that.

“Oh. Oh, no”.

That was all her mind had been capable of thinking when she and Loki had locked eyes in the palace on Asgard, right after she had slapped him (surprising both herself and everyone around her).

He had looked down at her with his trademark arrogant smirk, except as soon as Thor and Sif had turned away, his gaze had turned infinitely softer, and Jane had felt something monumental start to shift inside of her.

Something that had nothing to do with the Aether coursing through her veins.

Not long after that, on that awful, doomsday-looking planet, he had saved her life. Twice in quick succession. And for a horrifying second, it had looked like he would die right in front of her.

The memory makes her involuntarily shudder a bit and, drawing her legs up on the couch so she can twist to face him more directly, she runs her fingers through his long, silken hair, and nips at his lower lip… and is startled when his head jerks. For real this time.

Jane draws back.

“Are you okay?”. Perhaps things did not go as smoothly with Thor as she had hoped.

It was a big ask after all.

Once more she feels a sharp pang of guilt. It is not just her and Loki’s worlds that have been turned resoundingly upside down in a matter of one turbulent month.

Loki seems lost for words, and the sadness flooding his face shocks her.

He is far from okay.

In fact, he looks close to tears. Were it not because she had just felt his cool forehead, she would have assumed it was the fever flaring up.

Jane feels her stomach tie itself into a knot. They are taking him away from her before they have even had a chance be together.

Or, even worse still, he has regretted everything about their unlikely union.

“Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry…”

Here it comes, Jane thinks as nausea builds. Erik is about to be proved right about him.

She lets go of him. He is clearly wrestling with himself.

And he does look different. Is this what him dropping the mask looks like?

It is more than just his facial expression, it is his entire posture. Even wounded and half delirious with fever, Loki usually carries himself with no small amount of pride.

His eyes are so lost.

What the hell is going on?

“Just tell me, Loki”. Jane tries to disguise how alarmed she suddenly feels. His touch is the same, and yet it is like a stranger is taking over the man in front of her.

He inhales deeply and runs both his hands through his hair. Entirely without wincing as he lifts his elbows above his chest, she notices.

“Okay”, he begins. “Jane…” (the way he says her name, like he is tasting the word) “…you have every right to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. I truly deserve nothing less.”

She feels the tears welling up.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Her voice breaks and Loki has the audacity to look taken aback.

“Are you being dragged back to Asgard, or are you dumping me? After trying so hard to get into my pants?!”

It comes out way too harshly, and Loki appears genuinely flummoxed.

Also, his face has gone red.

“Oh, Jane, no, he’s not going to… He won’t leave. I mean- ”

“What?” A chill runs down her spine.

“’He’? ‘He’ who? Thor?”

Before he can answer, they both jump a little as her phone suddenly goes off in her bag by the door.

That inane ringtone.

She still has not changed it.

Erik. She promised she’d let him know as soon as …

Jane wants to ignore it, but then her mentor will most likely keep calling and she cannot put it on silent from the couch. Loki probably could though, but she is not about to ask.

“Wait”. She holds up a hand and gets up.

While rummaging in the bag, a single tear runs down her cheek. No. She will keep her composure and listen to what he has to say like the commonsensical grown-up woman that she is.

Was.

She’s only just begun to get to know him properly, so why does it feel like she won’t be able to live without him?

She pulls out the damn phone and presses the button on the side.

The she straightens up again and turns. “Okay, Loki …”

Jane gasps.

The room is dark. And empty.

No, he didn’t!

“Loki!”

No answer.

She stalks over to the couch and frantically looks around. Nothing.

“Loki, don’t you dare!”

The phone vibrates in her hand. Shaking all over, Jane answers the call. “Erik?”. Her voice is very small. “Yes, hi, Jane, it’s me. Listen, has Loki gotten back yet?”

She starts crying. “Erik, he left. He was here when I came home and just now, he disappeared! He didn’t even say goodbye.”

She can hear how desperate she sounds.

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Erik sounds confused.

“He is gone! I turned my back on him for one second and he vanished!” Jane’s voice breaks.

“Look, Jane, I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you misunderstood him? He came to see me not two hours ago after that thing with Thor and, well, let’s just say he went out of his way to make a case for himself. And you…”

“What? What did he- ”

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice cuts through. She must have taken the phone from Erik. “The lunatic is absolutely batshit crazy about you, okay? Stop blubbering. He’s probably just bored and fucking with you since you’re not actually f- ”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Muffled sounds, as Erik wrestles the phone back.

“Come on over, Jane, okay? We’re all still at the lab. Ian’s made tortillas if you can believe it”.

“But…” Jane wavers. Is Loki really playing a joke on her?

Erik is not taking no for answer: “Jane, don’t indulge these little games of his, okay? Come have dinner with us, and I’ll tell you what he told me before. And if he isn’t back later tonight, it’ll be my pleasure to enlist Thor to beat the crap out of him. It’s long overdue”.

Despite herself, Jane cannot help but smile.

“Okay. I’m coming over”. She exhales. The feeling of unease is subsiding a bit.

“Good girl”, Erik says. “Tell her to bring beer!” Darcy shouts from somewhere in background.

Jane hangs up and puts on her boots again. Loki and Erik had an actual conversation with no casualties?

She grabs her jacket and slams the front door behind her.

He really is infuriating, that prince of hers.

If he turns up later, she will make him pay dearly for scaring her.

No making out for a week.

(Yeah, right.)

To be continued in part 7 ....

This was supposed to have been the final chapter. Only 'someone' needed extra time star gazing. Please forgive me him!

#shine a light #lokane #loki series #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #tva loki #loki x jane #jane foster #loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #plainlo inthemorning #shine a light fic #loki show

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thedisneychef · 1 year ago

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Best 2 Burner Gas Grill to buy (Reviewed & Rated)

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

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Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

#lemyanka #jaidie #rpdr rpf

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baejax-the-great · 4 years ago

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The Egg Method

Mass Effect 1, Kaidan and Shepard gen fic. Read on AO3

Mentions of food, Mindoir, and biotics.

“How did you train your biotics, if you don’t mind me asking? Did the colony hire someone or…?”

As much as Shepard hated talking about Mindoir, it was a fair question, given everything Kaidan had told her about BAaT. And anyway, these memories weren’t bad ones for once. Shepard shook her head. “Nah, it was eggs.”

“Uh… what? …Ma’am?” he added someone belatedly.

“I trained my biotics using eggs.”

Her parents really hadn’t known what to do with her when the biotics showed up, but she was not the only colony kid creating mass effect fields in their bedroom and causing structural damage to their prefabs. It was her dad who came up with the “egg method” of training before the Alliance had pulled her out of the rubble and jammed an amp in her head.

Kaidan was still staring at her with one furry eyebrow raised in complete incomprehension.

“Here, do we have any eggs in the fridge?” she asked, “Get ‘em out.”

Kaidain approached the fridge slowly, like he still wasn’t certain if she was being literal or not and set a full carton of eggs on the counter as delicately as if they were little grenades. The eggs exploding all over the kitchen wasn’t the most outlandish fear; she was out of practice with this after all.

“Okay. Pick some number of them and toss them in the air.”

“Ma’am?” If Kaidan’s eyebrow could raise further up his forehead, it would have. Shepard also didn’t miss that she’d caught the attention of a number of people on duty who now paused in their tracks, datapads hanging limply in their hands, and if she screwed this up she’d have the attention of every single member of the crew along with a sticky mess on the floor. Kaidan bobbed his head back and forth as he considered tossing eggs on a spaceship, and Shepard called out, “Do I have to make that an order, lieutenant?”

With a wince he tossed four in the air, and Shepard caught each of them in their own little mass effect field. For one split second she was certain she’d cracked the shell on the leftmost one, gravity and mass fluctuating in her fingers as she adjusted her control over them. She was not mopping the deck today or wasting precious non-frozen food on a stunt.

“Eggs and open space,” she said once she was sure of her grip on them. She tossed an egg out of a field and caught it in a new one. “That is what we had the most of on Mindoir.” She tossed another, then another, and she heard Chakwas start laughing behind her as the eggs hit a juggling pattern. “Throw more in if you like, Lieutenant. This is hardly a challenge.”

Kaidan’s mouth had dropped open, but he tossed a fifth egg in. With a sixth, she had two simultaneous juggling circles. Toss, catch, toss, catch, mass effect fields flickering in and out of existence and not a single egg cracking. An old rhythm that was just like riding a bicycle on a tightrope that was on fire. She was panting with exertion by the time he got the ninth in there, though she still enjoyed the gasp from her crew as she flicked an egg high over everyone’s heads and caught it neatly just next to Quezado’s ear. With twelve eggs, her skin was crackling with blue energy even as the eggs stayed pristine in their fragile shells. Twelve perfectly controlled fields, flicking in an out of existence in perfect coordination and timing.

Had this been Mindoir, her father would have rewarded her with French toast for this performance.

Twelve was enough, though, and the collar of her shirt was soaked with sweat. She brought the fields together to hover just in front of Kaidan, and with her nod, he plucked them out of the air and placed them back in their carton while Chakwas and Liara clapped politely. The rest of the crew looked confused, having never seen a biotic display out of Shepard before, but as their commander rolled her shoulders, a couple others joined in the weak applause.

“If the whole soldier thing hadn’t worked out, I figured I’d have a solid chance in a circus somewhere,” Shepard announced, accepting the performance was a bizarre misstep and deciding she didn’t really care. Yeah, the crew was uncomfortable with someone who could tear the ship apart with her mind—or two someones, as everyone knew Kaidan could, too—and reminding them of that fact probably wouldn’t win her any friends, but her father had been right all those years ago—if she could hold an egg in a mass effect field without cracking it, she wouldn’t bring the house down with every temper tantrum. Or nightmare.

He would have enjoyed today’s show.

Once everyone had cleared out, Kaidan muttered, “You did all of this back then without an amp?” He shook his head in disbelief as he closed up the carton and turned back to the fridge.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lieutenant,” Shepard objected, one hand in the air. “Where do you think you’re going with those?”

He turned back to her and followed her pointed stare to the frying pan on the drying rack. Instead of putting the eggs away, he pulled out milk and some cheese. “A display like that would work up an appetite,” he conceded.

“Damn right. And I’ve gone through all the trouble of prescrambling those eggs for you.”

Kaidan laughed as he cracked the first egg and found that the yolk had broken and mixed entirely with the whites. Shepard shrugged. Not even she was perfect at biotically juggling eggs.

“Uh, omelet then?” he offered.

“Perfect.”

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #shepard #nadia shepard #my writing #mass effect fanfic #gen fic #lol I think I'll only be writing genfic from now on idk #food mention #god I now have the worst HCs for shep's parents lmao

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

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#1 Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

First day of Christmas

Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

It’s the day after Christmas, the merriest night has passed and you’re more than delighted to meet your family and had a nice feast. Yesterday was great with all of you buying presents and playing white elephant. You won a speaker and that is something you did not expect you’d get on a white elephant game. Your big family decided to gather in your parents’ house, where the grand Christmas tree stood up in its glorious form. You’re proud to say that the ornaments you hung with your brother look super pretty on the tree and that everyone is praising the Christmas tree in the hall. It was all good until your uncle got pretty drunk from chugging eggnog too fast and he bumped the Christmas tree. Though you think it is sturdy enough, turns out some of the decoration fell and break. Even worse, the main focus which is the star also toppled down and shattered into pieces.

Since everyone was in their Christmas mood, no one was making a fuss out of it. The maid cleaned up the shattered pieces and party continues like nothing happens.

But when the guest left the house and you were just chilling by the fireplace with your brother, Jaehyun, your mother came in and asked you a favour.

“(Y/n), I am sorry to disturb you and Jae, but can you please go to the store tomorrow and buy us some decorations, we have some more guests tomorrow and we do not want to greet them with a plain tree right?” Your mother walked gently into the room and brushed a hand over your hair.

You sighed, “Why me? What about Jae?”

Your brother laughed, “Apparently, I am invited to attend a lunch Christmas celebration tomorrow in my girlfriend’s house. Sorry honey I cannot come with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “When does the store open?”

Your mom shook her head, “Not sure, you can search it up in the internet and find the one open for Christmas. Usually they’re close, but I know you can find it!” she planted a kiss on your head and then without listening to you, she left the room.

You punched your brother’s thigh and he yelled in pain, “What was that for? It’s Christmas we shouldn’t be mean to one another!”

“Oh I’ve gotten my present already, I can be naughty now.” You taunted at him and he laughed too when he realized that was a great answer.

“Look, I’m sure you will find a store. Worst case will be going to the mall but try the stores we usually go to.” Jaehyun patted your back, “I’m sure that will be a nice activity while you wait for our guests. I’ll be back before noon.” He stood up.

You turned your head to follow his step, oh he’s leaving too.

“Good night (y/n)! Merry Christmas!” he sent you a heart and you just shooed him away.

Knowing there was nothing left to do and everyone seemed to be in their room already, you made your way to your bedroom and drove to dreamland. At least mother did not ask you to wake up early and go to the stores.

You woke up late the next day. Jaehyun was gone already and your mother and father were also away, maybe visiting the orphanage they always visit on Christmas. Lunch was prepared nicely for you and as you enjoy the snow falling outside your window, you scrolled through your phone looking for shops that are open on the 26th of December.

You almost lose hope when the nearby stores are closed and that you have to go to the mall which is an hour drive from home. Quickly you glance to the big grandfather clock in the house and noted it’s almost one already. The quickest you can be on the mall is at two, and then look for Christmas decorations. Well luckily mom said to just grab a set and the star, but still an hour drive in the cold winter day by yourself is not pleasurable.

But a chore is a chore and so after making sure you’re dressed up nicely in a toasty attire, you step into your car and drive all the way to the big mall. Christmas song blasts on your speakers and you’re no longer sour about going to the mall. You put your car for valet and inhale the holiday vibes around you. Stores are holding sale and people are laughing from one store to another.

You look for the directory and found the store you are looking on the second floor. Without hurrying, you take your time to see the stores and even stop to smell candles and try candies. This was a wrong move, because when you arrive at the decoration store. There’s many people queueing in the cashier and you can see most of the decorations cleared out from the aisles.

“Oh no, I hope there’s some more left!” you rush into the store and hope to still get something.

The aisle with colors that do not match your other decoration are full but you’re struggling to find gold and blue! Those two were the majority of the colors hanging. You luckily found the star and take the last one remaining. Thanking all the gods you know that you still get the last one.

Your small steps bring you to the last aisle where there are some gold and blue ornaments left, with a big smile you stand in front of the aisle, reach out your hand, only to frown when you’re a couple of inch short.

You look around for a stool but find nothing, but your eye caught something. More like someone.

There you see on your left, a few steps away is a tall young man wrapped in a nice black coat.

He’s super tall, way taller than you but like Jaehyun’s. hastily you look around, but no crew is here too, should you ask for his help?

“Um excuse me,” you tap his shoulder and gosh he’s way taller than you!

He turns to look at you and you see a pair of warm eyes meeting yours. You bite your lips suddenly shy about asking his help.

“Yes? What is it?” he asks when he finds you quiet and his brain finishes processing that he doesn’t know you.

You gulp, “I couldn’t reach the christmas decoration on the top shelf and you look really tall.” You point to the aisle you mean and he follows your finger.

“Can you please help me?” you put on your pleading gaze Jaehyun hates so much, but look at him blushing over your cat eyes.

“Oh sure, I can help you.” He follows you to the rack and you point out the decoration you want.

He takes one easily and hands it to you, you examine the details and frown when you see a damage on the ball, you want to see the other options but how do you ask him. Luckily he notices your face of dissatisfaction and takes a glance on your box.

“Oh you want the other one?” he offers you as he reaches out for two more box.

You’re speechless, he is super considering and fast in reading face! Whoah his brain is sexy.

“I think this one can go back up there, it’s damaged.” You return to him the first box and he patiently returns it and even helps you examine the remaining two.

“You good with that two?? Want me to take out another one?”

“No need, thank you! I think I’ll get this one.” You keep the one you like and when you just want to return the second box on the other shelf, he gently picks it up and returns the box.

“I once worked in a market and when people return things randomly, it annoys me. So, let me it’s okay.” He smiles when his hand accidentally brushes yours.

“Thank you so much,” your sentence lingers, and he laughs, “Sungchan.”

“Thank you so much Sungchan!” you bow, and he calmly asks your name.

You introduce yourself and the tall man blurts out “What a pretty name!”

You invite him for coffee since you’re thankful for his help and he accepts it with great respect. After the two of you paid your ornaments, you bring him to one of your favorite coffee shop.

He settles for a hot chocolate and so did you. As you wait for the drinks, he begins talking and getting to know you. You learn that he is just a year younger than you and he is sent to the mall to buy some decorations because their lights burnt, and he needed to get a new one.

“Did you know earlier when you pull that puppy eyes, everyone will sure fall for it and help you.” He laughs between the hot chocolate cups you two hold to warm your hands.

You blush, “Well that is the first time someone told me that! My brother always hates me for pulling that face.”

He clicks his tongue, “That is because you look so cute! He can’t reject or deny you if you pull that face.”

Your mouth gape and you admire his smart brain. “You’re super smart. I haven’t thought about that.”

He giggles, “I heard that a lot.”

“Woah smart and confidence eh! You yourself are charming.” You admit it shyly and successfully makes the younger boy across you run a hand on his neck.

The talk continues and come to a pause when your phone rings and Jaehyun was telling you he is on his way home. You note the clock and it’s almost three already! You’ll be home by four and need to prepare before the guest comes!

“Can we keep in touch?” you boldly ask after knowing you have to go home.

Sungchan nods, “Of course,” you hand him your phone and he types in his number.

“I’ll send a text and reply me when you get it.” You say and before you can ask him, he has sent you a reply.

The two of you smile although a bit sad that the short meeting has to come to an end.

“So I guess I’ll see you one day!” He reaches out his hand for you to shake, you shake his hand and smile back, “Yes, see you! Have a great Christmas and thank you for helping me.”

“I’m treating you lunch next time we meet!” he waves his hand and the two of you walk opposite ways.

Your drive back to the house is full of love song blasted out loud and once home you’re all smile when Jaehyun greets you for taking the decorations.

“Looking overly joyful eh?” he questions you as the two of you start putting the ornaments on.

You hide a mysterious smile, “Maybe it’s the Christmas vibes.”

He snickers, “Yeah maybe, or maybe it’s you falling in love with a stranger.”

You keep your story to yourself, Sungchan is no longer a stranger right?

Merry Christmas

see you tomorrow!

masterlist

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

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Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 8 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

ao3 link

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

——

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

I’m living for the only thing I know I’m running and not quite sure where to go And I don’t know what I’m diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I’m closer to where I started I’m chasing after you

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

——

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

——

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

“I ruined her marriage.”

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

#rpdr fanfiction #taste of poison paradise #joley #lemyanka #jackie x jaida #lemon #priyanka #jaida essence hall #jackie cox #lesbian au #smut

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sun-undone · 4 years ago

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You asked for Druck opinion questions - so here goes one: What are your 3 favourite Druck seasons and the best things about each one? Plus, one thing in each you'd like to change/improve?

ooooooh thank you for this!

my top 3 druck seasons are hands-down 3, 5, and 6, in that order

i’m gonna talk a lot from memory and not really looking back at any notes that i have for these seasons so i apologize in advance if i forget about some things

let’s start with the best things from each of those seasons first

season 3: it’s really really hard to choose just one thing as being the best from this season, cause there’s just so much good in it. but i think i’d have to say that the thing that really makes druck season 3 stand out so so so much to me is how the writers really said “okay we see isak and even, we see them, we appreciate them, and we’re going to respectfully do our own thing thank you very much”. they completely switched up their isak and even characters, not just by making david trans instead of bipolar, but by changing their entire personalities and dynamic together. it’s so DIFFERENT and fresh and hits me in a personal way that i have to say has been even more poignant than how isak and even hit me when i first got into skam all those years ago. matteo and david really just feel like they are characters that have been specially made with my personal tastes in mind, and i KNOW that i’m not even close to being the only one who sees so much of myself reflected in parts of both of their personalities. i love when remakes switch things up, especially with the beloved isak season, and druck really went there with no fear. they made that shit their own, and the ways in which they did so just happen to pluck at my heartstrings so perfectly.

season 5: this season is just so well-crafted, i think a lot of people would agree in saying that it’s druck’s most well-written season. you can really tell that a ton of work went into the overall story arc, properly addressing very touchy subjects like alcoholism and mental illness, introducing all of these new characters, just EVERYTHING. and what a huge fucking task that is, putting out a new season almost completely from scratch right after pissing off all of your fans. but they fucking delivered. there’s so much good in this season, too, so it’s tough to pick just one element to be the very best. but honestly, i think i’ve gotta say mina’s acting??? i was WORRIED about what the acting would be like in the new gen because i was so impressed by the old gen actors and their ability to really make each of their characters so distinct and personable. so going into the new gen, my expectations were already low for a lot of reasons, and i was kind of expecting to just not be as convinced by the actors and therefore not be able to fall in love with most, if any, of the characters. AND BOY WAS I WRONG. i do think a few of the actors were a bit rocky at first, which was also the case with the old gen so i’m not bothered by that at all, but damn they really stepped it up and blew me away once they all found their footing and chemistry with one another, especially mina. i think she’s the second best actor in all of druck (behind michi and maybe tied with or just above anselm), which is insane considering how young she is. she absolutely killed everything she was given and completely drew me into this season that i was fully expecting to not be able to connect to. i really do think that if someone else had played nora, season 5 and the new gen in general would’ve had a much rockier start. she led us into this new generation of characters with such warmth and natural, charismatic talent, and she deserves so so so much credit for that. she had great material, yes, but she really put in the fucking work.

season 6: okay so i still haven’t rewatched season 6 cause i’ve been a tad preoccupied with a different obsession at the moment, BUT i still just know that this season is fantastic and groundbreaking by giving us a biracial couple with no white person in it, a black lesbian main with a learning disability, and tackling performative activism and racism in a really grounded, realistic way. other remakes could never. just like in other druck seasons, it is incredibly obvious that the team worked their asses off to make this season, especially in light of all the covid restrictions. i'm hesitant to name the best thing about this season because i haven’t rewatched it, so i don’t wanna miss something. i WILL say that the soundtrack for this season is fucking phenomenal and has introduced me to so many new artists, particularly artists of color, which i appreciate so much. druck’s soundtracks are always amazing imo, but fatou’s just has something extra to it that i can’t quite put my finger on. maybe it’s just simply most aligned with my own personal tastes, i really don’t know, but it’s fucking brilliant. i also do have to say that i really appreciate how fleshed out kieu my is as a full character, not just as a love interest. she definitely has an advantage from being introduced in the previous season, but the writers could’ve easily made her stagnant once she and fatou started getting together. but NO, they made her even MORE interesting. she really got a full arc along with fatou, and i just love her so fucking much. once i rewatch, maybe i’ll make another post with a more complete answer, but that’s what i’ve got just from my memories of watching the season live.

now onto the thing i would change/improve for each season (i’ll try to keep this more brief because jesus christ why do i talk so much)

season 3: it’s obvious, isn’t it? david’s outing was done poorly, the execution of episode 8 in general was weird and out of place, it’s the only time that i really felt like the show was relying on shock value and drama (maybe even trauma porn) instead of good writing and conflict. there was a way to teach the audience about trans issues and experiences without subjecting david to that pain and also without having him just be absent for so much of the season. in conclusion, the season needed more david but never at his expense.

season 5: i really think that this season is druck’s absolute best in terms of writing and pacing, so it’s hard to find something that i was disappointed by (i would put this season above season 3 if i wasn't so damn emotionally attached to 3). i’m really racking my brains trying to think of something, anything, that bothered me, no matter how small it was. the only thing i can think of is that i remember a few music moments that felt forced or badly edited to me, but that’s literally all that’s coming to mind right now.

season 6: this season definitely wasn’t as well-paced as season 5, but there’s still not many glaring narrative issues that i can remember. there were a few smaller things throughout the season, but nothing too major. the one that i would most like to change is the stupid tinder/”cheating but not really” thing at the end of episode 8 (i think that’s the right episode number). it was just unnecessary and then completely forgotten about by the writers and characters, which shows how unnecessary it really was.

ask me some opinions about druck, wir kinder vom bahnhof zoo, or really anything!

#druck

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