#though I've blocked it so thoroughly that at this point it's hard to really know lol. but I do know that the mutual-in-law is one of them

[carolinanadeau]

sometimes I worry that that blocked blog I almost-openly hate on here by saying everything short of naming names is actually a sideblog and they will find me anyway

[yujeong]

I hope it's ok to throw up some Pete thoughts into your inbox, but that last rb of the fake vegaspete scenes has me thinking soooo many thoughts too. Even thinking about the original scene with Pete giving Porsche blocking advice... Do you think it's hard for Pete not to just see the violence in everything? Do you think it's hard for him to tell the difference? Was it easier for him to project his trauma onto Vegas than it was Porsche? Sorry sorry, my brain is kicking around so many hypotheticals that I almost want to write poetry

Oh anon, first of all, you can always come and throw at me *all* the Pete thoughts, I assume you've seen my blog and know how I'm like about that man. Second of all, damn, those questions are fascinating. I've never actually thought of Pete and violence and sex in that way before, at least not consciously (I think - I've only been thoroughly obsessing over him for almost 2 years lol). But anyway, for starters, I don't believe Pete is a stranger to sex. Even if he's a virgin in the show (something that was never confirmed), he's not oblivious to it. No matter the show's insistence at using Pete for comedic purposes in regards to him not knowing KP were a thing, I refuse to believe it! So, while, unfortunately, the scene with Porsche and the hickeys cannot really be interpreted in any other way than Pete having misunderstood what he saw on Porsche's neck, your question raises a good point for his character: does every act, including sex, involve violence for him? In my opinion, yes. Yes it does. Pete seeing the potential violence in everything could be a trauma response or a defense mechanism, both of which highly probable, as evidenced in ep4 with the table scene (though in that one, we had actual violence and potential escalated violence, depending on Tankhun's behaviour which Pete tried to control). Because of this, I don't think it's a matter of him finding it hard or not; it's a subconscious thing. I also don't think it'd be hard for him to tell the difference, but rather, Pete wouldn't *need* to tell the difference, because sex isn't something made for him. He's never thought it'd be something he would experience in his life before Vegas, so why distinguish one kind of violence from another? This is one of the main reasons why I utterly love their NC scene: it wasn't violent. Sure, it might have been painful - Pete hadn't completely healed yet, he was still wearing bandages and, depending on one's headcanon or not, penetration surely hurt to some degree - but it wasn't violent. It was hot kisses and licking necks and ass eating and slow thrusts and more kisses and.. yeah, you get the point. I believe it wasn't what Pete expected, same as the audience who witnessed it. Perhaps he expected another kind of violence, but got something completely different in the end, which is why Vegas using the handcuff again hit Pete so hard. The usual kind of violence returning, after the lack of it. He got too comfortable. He forgot to protect himself from the violence. Now, in regards to your last question, I believe Vegas' trauma is easier for Pete to project himself onto because it's a mirror (something @loveliesblood has actually said, because their brilliant character interpretations are brilliant). Pete's been there before, so he can empathize with a lost Vegas who's only response to the abuse is to blame himself. There's also the safety of distance: the days he'd been subjected to boxing against his will are over, so he's not in direct danger of his father abusing him like Vegas is. With Porsche, it's a little tricky. Taking as a hypothetical that he learns about what happened to Porsche somehow, the story hits a little *too* close to home for him to be able to process the trauma. There's no distance this time: it's here and now and he has to face it. But Pete is a hypocrite with no clue of what introspection means, so he shields himself from it, like he tries to do in ep13, in the infamous bathtub scene with Porsche, my favourite scene in the whole show. He cowers and hides and deflects. It's gorgeously agonizing to watch and I love it so, so much. This ended up being a little too long and I'm scared that I fucked up your incredible ask, but to salvage it a little bit, I'd like to highly encourage you to write the poetry you mentioned; we can never have enough of it, especially in the VP fandom. I'm sure it'll be wonderful ❤️ (Shoutout to @musictooth and their series of made-up vegaspete scenes, thank you so much for the brainworms haha)

[nari-cho]

Earl Grey with Citrus Pt. 1

Pairing: Reader/Levi Ackerman (reader has a default name because I cant stand y/n. Sorryyyy)

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Only! Prn w/ plot. Also lots of fluff uwu

Summary: Modern AU Strangers to Lovers trope. Over summer break you took a job at a local cafe for some textbook money. A grumpy regular that scares your coworkers starts to slowly open up to you day by day. How will he react when it's your final day at the cafe?

Note:

This started as a one shot but by popular demand a Pt 2 is in progress. This also started as a prn w/o plot but i got carried away. Cross posted on Ao3 (Nari_Cho). This is also not beta read. I've been speaking English for 10 years but I am not perfect!

Be gentle with me uwu I am new with writing. I hope you enjoy!





You started working at a local coffee shop for the summer break while school is out. It’s only a block from your apartment making it the most ideal for saving some text book money. You’ve been working there for roughly a week now and everyday, you notice the same man who comes in right when the cafe opens. He always looks like he’s grumpy and has a piercing stare; he’s undeniably handsome. Your coworker that you’ve become close with is terrified of him and notices you staring at him.

“Selene, don’t even think about hitting on him. He’s so picky about his tea and he is so mean about it!” She warned you, with a little stomp, on your first day She recounted her nightmare where he gave her a deathly stare after tasting the tea she made. Didn’t seem so bad to you though. You crinkle your nose at her from the notion of hitting on him. Yes he was hot, but you wouldn’t just try to pick up a customer like that. Especially someone who is a regular.

“Is he that picky? Let me try making his tea.” You wanted to see it for yourself and tea happens to be your wheelhouse, being the tea snob you are. He ordered earl grey black tea and sat himself down at a table near a window. Crossing his legs and opening a good book while he waits. Well if he really is that picky, you were determined to do it right.

You warmed the water just before boiling point, poured the water into a cup that was already warm, and steeped the tea for about 4 minutes. You brought the cup over to him, he never looked up or acknowledged you, and you went back to the counter. He never said a word about it, though as the days went on that week, he would glance at you. Small short glances, but it felt like a good thing. Apparently, no news is good news. Sometimes you would even get a thank you or a good morning. You never tried too hard to make conversation with him, he seemed like a reserved, no small talk type of guy. You respect it, pleased that at least you seemed to conquer the toughest customer this little cafe has ever seen. Thoroughly impressing all of your coworkers and your boss. When you came back to work after your days off the following week your coworker nudged you as you were making the grumpy customer his regular tea.

“Hey, that regular,” She nods her head toward him, “asked about you this weekend when you were off!” She whispered to you excitedly.

“Really? What do you mean?” You jolt, and butterflies fleet to your stomach for some reason. You don’t understand why it flusters you so much, you don’t even know his name. Barely exchanged pleasantries when you would finish his order.

“Yes, really! He described you and asked where you were. I told him when you were coming back. He didn’t bother coming in on your other day off! I think he likes you!”

You roll your eyes trying hard to play off the flush that has raised to your cheeks, a flicker of hopefulness floods your stomach. “He just likes how I make his tea I guess.” You brush it off as such, most likely knowing that’s the case. Given how hard of a time he gives everyone in this shop. Everyone but you.

“You should ask for his number!”

“No way! We don’t even talk.” But you do want to use this as a segway to get on a first name basis though. Some subtle attempts will do no harm right? After some, so-called, encouragement from your coworker she finally gives up after you wave her off for what feels like the 10th time about asking for his number.

When you finish preparing his tea, you walk over to his table and slide it over to him. You notice how he glances up to you, as if he is making sure it’s you who brought him his tea. Wow, he has some beautiful eyes.

“Selene.” You say simply. He looks back up to you, holding the longest amount of eye contact that either of you ever had. It feels… Electric. It’s suddenly intimidating, your confidence feels like he is draining it with just his stare. He really does have an intense gaze, but his eyes are beautiful… Like the clouds before a storm.

“What?” His voice is deep, but you can tell you’ve caught him off guard by how he choked on his words a bit.

“That’s my name. Selene.” Knowing you’ve caught him off guard brings some of that confidence back. You start to walk backwards slowly away from his table. “So the next time you ask about me, you can just say my name.” You hold eye contact with him for a bit longer to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t say anything nor does his face give away a lot, but he looks like a deer in headlights. You smirk and giggle lightly before turning around to return to work.

Days pass without incident, though when you bring him his tea now he thanks you with your name. “Thanks, Selene.” The first time he spoke your name you had to turn from him quickly to hide the blush from your cheeks. You still didn’t know his name yet, he hasn’t told you. You never make him feel obligated to. Allowing him to have control over how much he wants you to know him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable by openly flirting, ruining his favorite place to get his tea. He probably isn't interested in you in the slightest that way.

You start to prepare his tea in advance. His order is always the same and he arrives at the same time on the dot. Incredible actually with how punctual he is. When he walks in, his usual order is already ready. As usual, you bring him the cup and set it down.

“Levi.” He says without looking at you. He is looking out the window turned away.

“Hm?” You squeak out. You were retying the knot to your apron when he spoke and now you are frozen in place, hands in mid-retying. Body shocked from the change in routine. Stomach fluttering against your will.

“My name is Levi.”

Oh my god.

“O-oh.”

“Just thought it’d be fair. You told me your name, now you know mine.” He takes a sip of the tea, still not turning toward you. Like he’s intentionally trying to hide his face from you. Are the tips of his ears red? Or is it your imagination?

You feel your heart start to patter rapidly in your chest. Such a simple interaction of exchanging names feels so intense. This man barely speaks a word and now he has said the most you’ve ever heard him say. It’s like you’re having a real conversation with him, except you aren’t saying anything. God why aren’t you saying anything?

You just hum in response before turning to walk away and returning to behind the counter. The look on your face must give away something because your work friend asks you what happened.

“Did he say something to you?” She thinks he must have said something mean judging by the concern in her tone. You've escaped all these weeks without him complaining about your tea, she sort of anticipates it one day.

“Y-yeah. He told me his name.” You stutter out. Struggling to get a hold of yourself, not understanding why you’re so worked up right now. All he did was tell you his name, nothing else. Your work friend drops her jaw, impacted in a similar way you were.

“Please tell me you gave him your number after that.”

“What? No! He’s a customer just… let it go with that already.” Though you wouldn’t turn him down if he asked for it. You just didn’t think it would be super appropriate for you to openly flirt with a customer like that so blatantly. Plus, what if you make him uncomfortable and ruin his favorite place to get his tea? You continue the shift through the morning, not noticing how Levi continues to steal glances at you. Before he leaves, he looks at you again, seeing you smile at a customer. He clears his throat as a light flush stretches across his face, making him leave in a hurry. Time passes, Levi starts using your name more, “Good morning, Selene.” “Thanks for the tea, Selene” feeling almost as if he is intentionally saying your name for a purpose. You started returning the favor and greeted him with “It’s nice to see you again, Levi” one day, pausing a bit before saying his name. You swear you saw him shiver a little, but attributed that to the AC kicking on. He seems pleased and almost amused everytime you address him by his name. Your interactions with Levi start to feel a little more personal as the days go on. You thought you even saw the corners of his lips quirk up when you went out of your way to wave goodbye to him, despite being busy with other customers.

Today, you decide to offer him a little something different with his tea. When you bring his cup over you also place a small orange pastry. He glances at it then looks over to you.

“Citrus goes really well with earl grey. Try it.” You urge him, sitting down in front of him for the first time. When you sit, the air shifts between you both. How casual you are both now interacting creates some sort of tension. You know he feels it too.

He has to.

“I don’t like sweets.”

“It’s not sweet, it’s tart. Try it.”

Levi looks at it skeptically but tries it after taking a sip of tea. As he swallows that first bite his eyes dart to yours, then slowly takes another bite of the pastry. Eyes narrow like he is having trouble understanding something.

He likes it.

You smile in content and hum as if to say, I told you so, and you move to stand up. Before you can even process anything, Levi grabs your wrist - stopping you from standing up. You blink and look at his hand on yours. He isn’t grabbing you super hard, it’s firm but gentle. His hand feels warm on your wrist, so much so that you worry you will turn into jello before him.

The look on Levi’s face is almost as shocked as yours. As if his body moved on its own volition. He lets go of you and swallows the bite of pastry, balling his fist in front of his mouth, looking away from your surprised face. Is he embarrassed?

“I-uh… Thanks… Selene.” Levi looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. You wait for a moment, studying his face before you nod and walk back to the counter. Thankful that your work friend didn’t see him touch you just now. For the rest of the day, even after you get off work, it's like you can feel his hand on yours. Like a burned impression on your wrist. The rest of the summer feels like it goes by too fast. Ever since the day you sat down, your mornings at work are occupied with small conversations with Levi. Sometimes it's tea, sometimes it's a book, others it’s daily life. It’s obvious to all of your coworkers that you both have a thing for each other. You deny it but it becomes harder and harder for you to deny any feelings on your end.

He intrigues you, and it’s not only his sharp features, soft black undercut, or his deep tone. It’s his choice in books he brings in, the insane punctuality he has, the perfectionism he seems to put into everything (you subtly noticed based on his appearance)…

It’s your last day at the cafe before you start getting ready for your senior year in college. You feel a little sad. You’ve enjoyed your coworkers and most of all, your favorite silent customer that somehow you’ve managed to get sort of close to.

When Levi comes in you bring his tea right away, perusual. After the good mornings are exchanged you sit in front of him like you have been since the day you gave him his orange tart pastry, which he only indulges in occasionally. You rest your chin in your hands leaning forward. It's now or never that you tell him it's your last day here. Leaving the ball in his court if he wants to see you again.

“Today is actually my last day at the cafe.” You admit, head tilted into your hand. Levi pauses for just a second. Just a small second that anyone else would probably miss, but the summer you spent with him you’ve learned to pay close attention to his body language if you were going to have any clue to what he was thinking behind that poker face.

“Is that so?” He says flatly. Though you know he is taken aback from his pause. “Where’re you going?”

“This was just a summer job. University goes back in a few weeks.” You say tracing your fingers along the wood grain of the table. The nerves are coming back and your heart quickens with anticipation.

“I see.” Levi sips his tea and looks out the window. He looks like he is contemplating something. Trying to make up his mind over something he is at war with in his head. “Can you teach one of those idiots back there how to make a decent cup of tea before you leave?” You burst out in a laugh and cover your mouth. Levi looks at you in genuine surprise, then the corners of his mouth twitch upwards slightly to a smile.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You start to stand up with your hands pressed to the table to push yourself up. Just like that day, he grabs your wrist to keep you from leaving.

“Wait a second.” He doesn’t withdraw his hand until you sit back down, as if he is worried you’d go away forever if he let go prematurely. You see him swallow thickly and he thumbs through his phone. Levi slides it to you, a new contact screen pulled up with your name, Selene, already typed in. “Put in your number?” He says the statement more like a question.

For a moment, you sit there in surprise but not for long, careful not to give him the wrong idea of not wanting to give it to him. Nails tapping on the screen, you put in your number and slide it back over to him with a slight flush on your cheeks. Heart wildly jumping in your chest.

“Then I guess I’ll save my goodbyes. I’ll see you around, Levi.” You stand and walk away to return to your final shift. Trying your hardest not to give away how excited he just made you feel. The fact that he wants to see you again makes you light headed, but he isn't the only one with a good poker face. You don’t notice it, but he watches you as you walk away as if entranced.

A couple days later, you receive a text from Levi in the evening. You’ve been busy all day with preparing for school that you haven’t been able to message him back much. Ever since you gave him your number, you’ve been talking quite a bit throughout the day. Even calling each other on the phone and chatting for about an hour the previous night as you organized all your class folders and reviewed the assignment schedule. Levi | Your coworkers make shit tea | You laugh out loud, but you did attempt to teach them how to make Levi’s tea. They were all scared of the guy so you’d hope they would try their best. Guess it’s not enough. Though, you want to use this as an opportunity to see Levi again. You | Come to my place and I’ll make it up to you? | It wasn’t until you hit send that you realize how underlyingly sexual that could sound. Though, would you really mind if he did take it that way? You bite your bottom lip at the thought. Obviously you’re attracted to him but you also don’t want to freak him out. So you decide to send him another text. You | I live a block away from the cafe. I’ll make you some tea the way you like. | He replies almost immediately, a message popping up as soon as you hit send. He definitely sent that before he saw your second text.

Levi | now? What’s your address | 20 minutes later Levi knocks on your door. You open the door and when you see Levi on the other side, your heart jumps. You were obviously expecting him but actually seeing him at your door makes you question all of your decisions up until now. Levi must also feel a similar type of way, since he also looks at you with a bit of surprise. He looks at your appearance for a moment, not used to seeing you outside of your cafe uniform which consists of a collared shirt and an apron. Seeing you so casually made him feel like his heart was seizing in his chest.

“It’s good to see you again, Levi.” You say just like you did when he came to the cafe.

“Hey, Selene.” He pauses before he says your name. You smile sweetly, relaxing a bit after you both greet each other. The awkwardness dissipates in an instant. You widen the door to welcome him in, also taking in what he’s wearing. You think he might have come here straight from the gym. He kicks off some training shoes and has a matching sweatsuit outfit on. Headphones dangling over his shoulders. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing the bangs out his face that were flattened from his hoodie being up. He usually came to the cafe looking rather tight laced. Why did he look even more attractive this way?

“Kitchen.” You flip your hand to motion him to follow you into your apartment. He nods, feeling a bit out of his element at your apartment. Though you don’t notice it, since the truth is, you feel nervous out of your mind.

“I wanna show you something.”

The way you say that sentence makes Levi gulp. Though he knows it’s innocent, it sends his mind swimming and feeling like he’s alone with a girl for the first time again. Just like it did when you invited him over.

Levi looks around your apartment taking note of how clean it is. Maybe not to his ridiculous standards, but it’s clean. He sees you scooping loose leaf tea into a steeper. “This will be so much better than the tea at the cafe. I’m making your favorite. Earl Grey, but I added some lavender. You’ll like it.” You smile, again you so confidently suggest he will like something. The last time was about the pastry, and he did actually like it. So much that he didn’t want to admit it.

He looks at you again noticing you’re wearing glasses and your hair is up in a messy bun. “Have you always worn glasses?”

You stop in the middle of what you are doing, flustered that he noticed something about you. “Oh uh… yeah, I just wore contacts at work.”

“They look nice.” He states so simply like complimenting you was the most natural thing to do.

You look at him and blink. You aren’t used to being complimented so something as simple as this makes your stomach flutter. Also the fact that it came from Levi, the guy you are denying to yourself that you’re crushing on doesn't help. “T-thanks.” You push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and busy yourself with getting the water ready for the tea.

Levi wonders for a moment if he’s made you feel uncomfortable. He watches you as you start boiling the water. Once it’s to temperature you pour it evenly over the leaves in the teapot. The air starts to waft with the smell of black tea. You breathe in deeply and sigh. The scent immediately puts your nerves at ease, thank GOD. You even debated on taking a shot of vodka before he arrived just to calm yourself. “This is the best smell in the whole world I swear.”

Good, you don’t seem uncomfortable. Maybe you don’t get compliments often? No, Levi wouldn’t understand why. Since the first day he saw you he thought you were beautiful. So why wouldn’t you?

He helps you carry the tea set over to your living area and you both sit down on your living room couch. You pour both of you a cup and he watches as you take a dreamy sip. He follows suit as well and licks his lips at the flavor. It was… very good.

“Like it? It’s the good stuff.” You cross your legs, bouncing your top leg slightly. Levi senses a certain elegance about you. One that he finds unbelievably attractive but also out of his reach. The part that has kept him stalling for so long from asking you on a date sooner. He feels as if he wouldn’t be good enough for you.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He says, underplaying it. He’s not here for the tea. Not really. After talking to you on the phone the previous day, he made up his mind that he wanted to see you again as soon as possible. When you had asked him to come over, he smacked himself on how quickly he responded to you. Feeling he seemed too eager. After a short time of comfortable silence of you both enjoying the tea, Levi is the one to start conversation to your surprise.

“What are you majoring in?” He has been looking around for clues but failed to determine because of how neat you keep your apartment. Any traces of books or school work has been cleaned up and out of sight.

“Tea Science.” You hide your smile behind your cup.

Levi almost spit takes. His eyes dart to yours with a furrowed brow and an incredulous look “Actually?”

You start to laugh, throwing your head back. That was the most emotion you’ve seen on his face. “ No, I don’t even think that’s a real thing.” You giggle more when he rolls his eyes at you with a smirk on his face.

“Shit, I was ready to believe you.” His laugh was something sent from a higher existence. You feel almost lucky to be able to hear it. Laughing together with Levi, you shake your head and get more comfortable, turning toward him - knee knocking against his.

“Nah, I’m attending on a scholarship for violin.” Of-fucking-course you are for something so graceful and… sexy. Is that what it was to him? Why did the fact that you play violin turn him on?

“Really? That’s… impressive. You must be really good.” He looks to your touching knees and then back to you. Suddenly craving more contact.

You shrug “I'm good enough to get a scholarship I suppose. I can show you my submission video, it’s a bit late for me to play live for you. Neighbors.” It’s past quiet hours and though your neighbors have all mentioned that they love hearing the sound of you playing, you don’t want to start any concertos after hours.

As you scroll through your phone looking for it, you glance up at Levi from your screen. “What about you, Levi? What do you do, school? Work?”

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes you look up at him again and pause your scrolling. Levi looks like he is contemplating telling you. Ok, now you’re really curious. “What is it?”

He leans forward and sets his empty cup on the coffee table and you follow suit. Leaning toward him, with one leg bent underneath you to get closer, your knee is touching his hip. You touch his arm idly to grab his attention to look at you. He does. Immediately.

“Are you an escort or something?” You joke which he lets out a playfully annoyed “tch” at.

“I work.” He says simply, looking at your lingering hand on his arm. Your face turns curious and you lean in to make him look at you. Needing to read his expressions and face. All those days at the cafe taught you that you need to see his face to understand what he is thinking.

“And?” You coax him on not noticing how close you’re getting. Levi certainly notices and swallows. The proximity not helping his previous revelation that being here with you is turning him on. His eyes flicker to your lips, and THAT you notice. Your cheeks turn red, realizing you’ve slowly worked yourself toward him. The attraction for Levi naturally pulling your body toward him. You also notice how he hasn’t pulled away and has plenty of room to move back if he wanted to. Does he want to get closer?

What you both were talking about dies in the change of air between you both. When did it start feeling so heavy with tension? It's as if everything got hot and heavy in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t answer your question and you don’t pry, completely forgetting what either of you were even talking about. Levi reaches forward and pushes a fallen hair from your bun behind your ear.

“Your hair looks nice like this.”

Again, you get flustered like you did about the glasses.

“Levi?” You have a flush on your cheeks. “Why did… why did you ask for my number?” You want to determine once and for all that it was because he was attracted to you in a way that was more than friendship or if it was just the tea. You have an inkling, but you want to be sure.

“I figured that I stalled long enough for the entire summer to make a move.” He admits.

Make a move, he says. Was that enough for you to know his intentions? You’re overthinking now. Before your brain can make its final assumptions he leans in to take it a step further, taking your chin with his thumb and index finger boldly. His lips brush against yours but before he connects with you, he pauses to assesses your reaction. To his pleasure you don’t move away but instead, you relax and your eyes close. Nerves start to flood his stomach. Levi turns his head slightly and kisses you.

With that the overthinking is gone. Your mind goes blank with the feeling of his, surprisingly, soft lips against yours. Dizzying your senses. You taste the lavender black tea on his lips, parting and reconnecting in slow calculated movements. Tasting each other curiously. You feel his hand release your chin and take your free hand, lacing his fingers comfortably with yours before he pulls back.

“Was that ok?” Levi asks, still inches from your lips, but making sure he didn’t overstep any boundaries.

“Again?” You ask him, already drunk off the lovesickness that flooded you from the kiss. He chuckles at your eagerness, trying to hide how excited that actually makes him feel. You liked that. You liked kissing him. With no reason to deny you, he connects with you again. This time, more confidently knowing you also want this just as badly as he does. His other hand, sliding around your waist to find the small of your back.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders and you groan lustfully against him. The urgency builds, the kiss grows sloppy, until you both are kissing each other hard. Levi licks the bottom of your lip and you meet it with yours. He groans into your mouth sending heat to your core. You can feel the wetness pooling in your underwear, desperate for more. Needing more. More, more, more.

You whimper and maneuver yourself to straddle his lap, never breaking the kiss as if you need it to survive. He gasps and opens his eyes slightly to see you sitting atop him. Wanting to witness what you might look like straddling him. He feels you push your hips against him and grind against his cock that’s already hard and he groans loudly into your mouth, vibrating your chest with the reverberation. He can't help himself as he hooks his thumbs under the hem of your pants and starts to wiggle your shorts off, gasping again when you let him.

Levi easily switches positions by pushing his hips up into you and laying you down on your back onto the couch, pulling your shorts off all the way. Your black lace underwear, that you’re so thankful you decided to wear tonight, is somehow even darker at the spot moistened. The quiet air of the apartment is now filled with both of your sounds of pleasure of feeling each other finally in such an intimate way. Eager sounds of your breaths, sucking, separating and rejoining over and over. Slipping away and allowing yourselves to become lost in your arousals.

He moves down with his kisses to your neck, desperately looking to draw more sounds from you, wanting to hear them in their unadulterated pleasure. That somehow, HE is giving you. He finds a sweet spot behind your ear when you moan loudly followed by his name. His hips rut right against your growing heat on instinct upon hearing his name falling from your lips in such a lewd way.

“Levi I need you… I need-“ you pull his hoodie off while wiggling under him. He allows you to and watches as you run your hands down his chest. Appreciating his muscles and physic. You did not expect him to be so fit. He then takes your shirt off and admires how you look underneath him. Slipping his hand under your bra that he just now realizes matches your panties.

“Fuck… did you wear that for me?” His eyes trail from your bra to your panties. You watch him as he devours your body with his eyes, his lips a bit red and swollen from your kisses. A love bite you gave him resting on his collarbone. The sight of it makes you want him desperately to claim you with his cock. You need him to fuck you, and hard. God, when did you become so horny for him?

“Levi, fuck me. Please.” You beg him in response. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Something carnal inside him switches in that moment. His pupils dilate and he takes your mouth again, leading with his tongue. You meet him with yours before your lips even touch. He groans again against you with how needy you are for him. Each grind of your hips against his, every rake of your pretty hands over his chest and back, grasping at him like you cannot get a good enough hold. His restraint breaks and he begins to pant.

“That desperate for my cock? I plan on taking my time so you're going to have to be patient.” His filthy words swells your clit, you can barely take anymore. You need him to touch you. Now. You’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how desperately turned on you were. So much so you might even cum from his voice alone.

As if reading your mind his fingers slip past the lace of your panties. Feeling how he is awarded with the wetness of your arousal he groans, looking at you with knitted brows. Your face is beautifully flushed with a shade of pink, hair is messily strewn along the cushions of the couch, the messy bun having come undone some time ago. He watches your face contort as he moves his fingers on your clit. You feel yourself already getting close from Levi’s touches, and he's barely touched you.

“Jesus youre so fucking wet Selene! I want your body. All of it.” He watches as you arch your back against the gentlest of his touches. His other hand rolls a nipple between his fingers. Watching you in pleasure as you writhe to his actions and absolutely shocked that you look like you're about to reach your end. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?” He says with amusement. Your hand pulls on the back of his raven hair, just above his undercut causing him to throw his head back slightly. His eyes never tear away from yours, glued to the sight of you moaning and muling for him. Until it bursts, white hot seizes of pleasure twitches your legs around him. You mule his name and moan and he is absolutely relishing in it. Levi slows his fingers and lightens his touch and he meets your mouth with another kiss to ride you through your orgasm. He grunts as he feels your juices cover his fingers, making a beautiful mess for him. He pulls his fingers away from your cunt and pushes them into your mouth.

You gasp at first but start to suck your own flavor off his fingers, looking up at him practically cross eyed. “Tell me, Selene. How do you taste? Would I like it? You seem to know exactly what I like.” Unable to speak with his fingers fucking your mouth, slurping your taste off of them you say something incoherent and it makes Levi smirk. You nod instead and he removes his fingers.

“Levi, please. Can I-” you reach down, pulling his pants down freeing his hard cock. He hisses at the sensation as your hand wraps around him. You only get a few strokes in until he grabs your wrist, not softly like he has before. This time it's firm and he slams it above your head. Pinning you down.

“Be patient. I need to taste you first. I have to.” He starts to tease your entrance with the tip of his cock. Swirling and playing with your cum, slapping it against your cunt making you spasm from the sensitivity. It's like electricity every time he crudely slaps his heavy and hot cock against you, splashing sounds sinfully filling the room. You whimper and wiggle under his grip. He releases your wrists and moves downward, kissing a trail from your collar bone, between your breasts, and your stomach. Enjoying how your stomach tenses at his kisses before he finally flattens his hot tongue against your sex. Licking a slow stripe upwards watching how it makes you shudder.

“Ah - Fuck Levi!” You cry out, grasping at the pillows of the couch, raking your fingers against it. He groans at your taste, sliding his middle finger into your hot center, flicking and circling your clit. Already you can feel yourself heating up again, just when you thought it was too much. He hums, encouraged by the noises he is drawing out of you so deliciously. Levi can't get enough, that alone is its own addiction.

You feel yourself cum again, squeezing your legs around Levi as you release. Unbelievable that this one was even better than the last. He laps up every last bit of your juices that flow out of you in satisfied slurps and groans. You can’t believe he is enjoying it this much.

“So fucking sweet and I got you all to myself. I cant fucking believe it.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and licks his lips. Enjoying your fucked out expression from the already two orgasms you’ve had, and he hasnt even fucked you yet. His hand grips the top of your thigh as he lines his throbbing and impatient cock against your still pulsating pussy. Drawing lazy circles with his thumb sweetly close to your inner thigh.

“Levi… I’ve never had this so good before. Fuck me now, deep. Please I have to have it!” You beg him. Well, shit, since you asked… He slides himself easily into your beaconing opening. You both grunt and moan at feeling each other so intimately. The summer of pining for each other over tea silently all coming to a head. He slowly keeps going in and when you think there is no more, he keeps going deeper.

“Oh my god Levi!” You put a hand over your mouth but he quickly removes it.

“Need… To.. To hear you.” he grunts, barely able to speak from the feeling of your clenching on his cock. He starts to move in and out of you, the task easy from how slick you are. Levi’s arms buckle to either side of your head, safely caging you in his forearms. Watching how you bounce under him from his thrusts, he begins to pant heavily now. His head drops down to your ear, his heavy and hot breath tickling your neck. You continue to mule out his name, feeling another impending orgasm start to build. Hands coming down from his soft hair to his shoulders, the sensation making him shiver with delight.

“Fucking hell, Selene!” Levi stands himself up and pulls out of you. Before you can make any protests he turns you over on your knees, facing you toward the back of the couch. You arch your back, offering yourself to him, thighs slick with your juices glistening before him.

“You really do know exactly what I like, dont you?” He practically growls out and pushes your shoulders down to arch you more, delivering a firm slap to your ass. You let out a pleasurable screech at this roughness, something you didn't realize you even liked. You LIKED it when Levi got rough with you, wanting him to push that even further.

Abandoning all politeness he pushes himself all the way in, reaching a spot so deep, you aren't sure if its ever been reached before. You gasp at the sensation, thighs shaking as he fucks your absolute brains out. No words can be formed into any coherent sentences, only moans and groanings of his name and sounds can make it past your lips.

Picking up his pace he swears under his breath, grabbing your wrists in each of his hands in a tight grip. He pulls your arms back, lifting you from being shoved down into the couch. The sounds of him fucking your cunt so relentlessly is so loud you worry the neighbors will hear it. Forget the sounds of the violin, they might come barreling in just to check on you. The heat in your stomach is becoming too much, you feel like you are going to burst. A feeling you have never experienced before in your life.

This is it, no other partner is going to compare to Levi. You are convinced that you will never be able to have sex with anyone else and get off again. It has to be Levi.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He groans out with each thrust.

With that you burst. The dam, literally breaking and you leak all over his cock. His eyes widen with surprise, feeling how hard you clench and twitch on him. The sight was all he needed to push him over the edge he was so close to teetering over already. He pulls out and finishes himself on your ass and back. Grunts and moans of your name falling from his lips in a way you swear he must have done before. Heavy ropes of his cum spill onto you, feeling the heat of it as if it's searing your skin. Levi’s whole front is wet from your release. He leans forward over you, as if collapsing from the experience, but careful not to put too much of his weight on you. Both of you stare at each other with post sex bliss panting and catching your breath in unison. Before the euphoria starts to settle, you both join in a passionate kiss. When you part, both of you want to say something but at the same time, not knowing what to say. Again, shocked by your own actions as if your bodies reacted to each other this way on their own.

“U-uh. I… Shower.” Levi settles on. You nod breathlessly.

“Shower.” You confirm.

As you both shower together, it's not awkward. It's fun and playful. He hugs you into him and you giggle. Levi plants kisses to your ear. You let out a small screech at the sensitivity before turning around to face him.

You take a pretty finger to his lips and tap on his bottom lip “Filthy mouth you have. And here I thought you were a gentleman, Levi.” You snicker at him.

He flushes and rolls his eyes, arms wrapped around your naked torso. “Act like you didnt like it. I’m pretty sure you lost it to those filthy words.” You giggle, he is right of course, but wonder if he held back at all for it being your first time together. You want him to take it further next time. Next time.

You both eventually hop out of the shower and return to the living room. Levi helps you clean things up and put away the dishes. You make a new pot of tea and you both sit on your third floor balcony enjoying the cool night breeze contrasting with your hot tea sliding down your throats.

“Spend the night.” You say to him more of a statement than a question. But a question that's of course hanging in the air anytime two people who are not in a defined relationship usually struggle with after hooking up. Do they stay, or do they go?

Levi chokes on his tea a little but swallows it down trying not to show how off guard that made him. But unfortunately for him, you already noticed.

“I mean, you don't have to stay the night. But, you can, I’d like you to.” You calmly sip your tea, leaning your elbow on the railing, waiting for his answer.

As his answer, he leans in and kisses you on the lips. He does so softly, parting and reconnecting a couple of times before pulling back. Again, gauging your reaction. “Thank fucking god.” He sighs in relief, taking his face into his hands. You look at him quizzically. Before he looks back at your eyes, a softness over taking the usual intensity of them. “I didn’t want this to be a one time thing. You know… Where we never speak again.”

How cute, he was worried about what was going to happen next. That makes your heart seize in your chest and gives you a warm feeling. A smile stretches across your face involuntarily. “You wish! You’re stuck with me for a while whether you like it or not.”

“I can live with that.”

[arts-and-drafts]

Burned (Double Life)

(Scar confronts Grian about some rumors and learns something he maybe already knew. This takes place a little after episode 2 but before episode 3. I wrote this when I was emotionally out of sorts so take it how you will, I didn't put the usual amount of effort into it lol)

CW: Death mentions

-

"So, you...said you wanted to talk about something?" Grian asked, his wariness mostly for show as he clambered up a few blocks to stand by Scar, who was overlooking the cliff. To be quite honest, Grian was expecting something about the Jellie-pandas again when Scar asked to speak with him, and he was not about to budge on that, which was sure to make an interesting conversation.

And so, Grian was completely caught off guard when Scar plainly asked "Do you want to be my soulmate?"

"Wh--sorry?" Grian stammered, his feathers thoroughly ruffled.

"Do you want to be my soulmate." Scar reiterated, as if he was chatting about the tick rate. "I've been talking with Bdubs--" Grian groaned internally, "and he said to watch out for you. Like you'd hurt me."

Grian was definitely not prepared for this conversation. He didn't expect it to happen at all, quite frankly, with how oblivious Scar just...was. So he admitted that he'd gotten a bit careless with letting his true feelings about the whole "soulmate" ordeal show, mainly because it only really served as a way to make his fellow participants laugh at his misery.

He didn't expect Scar to notice.

But notice he must have done, because here Grian was and here was Scar, now looking up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Hurting you hurts me too, Scar." Grian replied carefully. "Why would I do that?"

"Scott did." Scar pointed out, tilting his head towards the bridge across the ravine. "He didn't care about his soulmate at all."

"I'm not Scott." Grian interjected, maybe a little too forcefully. Scar raised his eyebrows like he did when he spotted an opportunity for a deal, but without his usual accompanied smile, it turned out very off-putting. Like he saw right through Grian's act. "And plus, so did you. You jumped in a powdered snow bucket just for a laugh."

Scar hummed thoughtfully at that, and finally turned away. "That's true."

Grian thought he'd caught Scar out, and then of course the man he was bound to pulled the rug out from under him yet again.

"I still want you, though."

Heat rose up Grian's neck. "What--you--"

"I don't mind that we're soulmates." Scar breezed right along, as if he had not just accomplished the very rare feat of rendering Grian speechless. "It's kinda fun, you know? I thought it was light-hearted, like in the desert."

Grian's throat closed up on him as he remembered the final moments of that world, of sand turned as red as his hands, choking him with the stench of what remained of Scar and their silly little castle after everything was over.

"Scar--"

"I didn't think it was, like, mean. I didn't think it was cruel, Grian, I'm not a cruel man." Honey-tongued. That was the word for the way Scar's voice was pitched, now. Laying it on thick like he did when he was trying to appear innocent of shenanigans, but entirely without the playful undertone.

"Scar, I didn't--it's not--"

"It's okay." Scar looked him in the eyes this time, and he was smiling. It didn't reach his eyes like it used to.

"I heard Bdubs and Impulse got a golden apple." Scar said casually, like he didn't just make Grian's breath freeze in his lungs at the statement. "And they're very happy, you know they won't use it. I'm sure we can buy it off them for this diamond horse armor--"

"Stop it!" Grian yelled, his voice an octave too high. He didn't realize he'd grabbed Scar until the man looked at his hand around his arm in surprise, but he didn't pull away.

"Scar, I don't want to break the bond." Grian tried his best to mentally communicate it with how hard he was staring into Scar's forest eyes. "I don't--Scar, of course I don't want to be your soulmate, but that doesn't mean I don't want you."

Scar just merely stared at him after that. Grian felt pressured to keep going the longer the silence stretched on.

"You're my friend, Scar. I kept basing with you in the very beginning because I really do like your company." Grian said, before he paused.

"What I said before, it...I want to live, I want to win. Being bound to you, it--come on, you must understand how nerve wracking that is."

Scar's expression violently flickered, and Grian quickly backtracked.

"Not that you're not doing a good job! I'm actually impressed with how long we've been green this time! It's just--I mean, it's not your fault, Scar, you can't help it." Grian sighed. "I'd feel like this if it were anyone else with your track record. It's not--it's not personal."

"How can it not be personal?" Scar exclaimed, the first time he'd shown an emotion other than pretend indifference during this whole conversation. "Grian, you just said that you don't want to be my soulmate because I might kill you!"

And he pulled out of Grian's grip, and Grian knew he'd messed up somewhere along the way.

"I can get the forbidden fruit, Grian. You don't need to worry about dying anymore." Scar said, bitterness tinged with sorrow weighing down his words. "You said it yourself. The only reason you're looking out for me is because we share our lives."

"Scar," Grian tried hopelessly, his stomach plummeting at how the situation went so wrong so quickly.

His soulmate brushed right past him. "I'll be back soon."

Scar paused at the treeline, and Grian held his breath. Hoping. Desperate for a change of heart, even though he wanted it too.

"Make sure Tango doesn't set the Jellies on fire while I'm gone."

Scar didn't even look back.

END.

[lassieposting]

Why you not posting bae, you ok?? Just insanely deep in Grimoire graft I hope - Backyard Anon

Hooo boy it has been A Weekend BA

I'm. Not okay, but I will be eventually. Very long story short, my stepmother's mental health issues do not mesh well with mine, and hers have been declining for a long time. In the last few months she's made me the target of all her frustration by ghosting me completely, blocking me on everything, etc, and claiming I'm "horrible to deal with" and "causing problems in their relationship". I have been unusually mature and forgiving about this so far because I know she struggles, but on the inside I haven't handled it well at all. I have serious abandonment issues from being ghosted by someone else I cared about, so my own mental health has tanked. I lost what I thought were some of my closest friends over this whole mess, I have started having panic attacks which is a new and thoroughly unwelcome experience, and I have almost committed myself to the psychiatric ward more times in the last few months than I can count - which has always been my greatest fear and something I have tried really hard to prevent. But I have accepted that she wants nothing to do with me because I am a Horrible Person™, even though she has yet to actually tell me what I've supposedly done wrong. Literally all she's done is bitch about me to my mom and then complain that no one listens to her when my mom defends me. Her biggest complaint is that I'm "overwhelmingly negative" which, yeah, she has a point, but hey. My life sucks ass. What does she expect. I have never been truly happy, I don't know how to fake that shit.

Anyway, last night she decided to issue my mom an ultimatum (me or her) and then tried to claim this morning that she never said that, which, she ain't slick and no one involved fell for her gaslighting bullshit. She was willing to make my mom think she was gonna lose her marriage and her home just because she was angry at my mom for "shaming her" for how she's been treating me. Their marriage is now careening for the rocks, her relationship with me has been irreparably shredded, and I have been comforting myself with the fantasy that eventually she'd come out of this bad mental health space and stop being so fucking nasty and want to fix the relationship, and I'll be able to lord it over her, rub her nose in what she's done like a dog and hopefully subject her to the same hurt and loss that she's put me through when I get to announce that she's dead to me.

Tbh she won't care, because she wants no contact with me anyway, but it makes the bitter, vengeful, nasty little person in my heart feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside to think about it.

And. Yeah. That's the latest from Lassieville. Thank you for checking in on me, I appreciate you

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Imagineteamfreewill

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Meg

Age: 20s

Location: United States

URL: @imagineteamfreewill

Why did you choose your URL: I first started out structuring my stories as imagines, and the “Team Free Will” part was pretty obvious.

What inspired you to become a writer: Reading Supernatural fanfiction inspired me to get back into writing, but I’ve always enjoyed it. My mom likes to talk about how when I was in Kindergarten, I drew a picture about how I wanted to be an author and now I write in my free time.

How long have you been writing: According to tumblr, I’ve been writing fanfiction since 2014, but I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I’m a music teacher, so I sing and play piano, and I’ve played a bit of cello and tenor saxophone as well. I love movies, baking, sleeping, and a few video games.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? I joined sometime around Season 8 or 9, I think. I don’t really remember!

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I really enjoy Marvel and I’ve read a lot of Marvel fics, but I don’t write for them. I like a lot of TV shows (New Girl, Parks and Rec, The Good Place, Outlander, etc), but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom.

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I love to write poetry. I had a poetry blog at truenorth-ink a while ago, but I haven’t updated it recently at all. Most of my poems aren’t published or posted anywhere.

Favorite published author: I love some of the early series by Rick Riordan and I also really enjoy poetry by Nikita Gill and Atticus. Lately, I've really been getting into Leigh Bardugo's books.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: I think "East" by Edith Pattou really affected me! I read it when I was in 6th-8th grade and I think about it often. I think it's something that really stuck with me and got me interested in fantasy books so much. I read it at least once a year.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc): I love angsty stuff, and most of the time I prefer it when it has some fluff mixed in. Straight fluff is often hard for me to read because I need something that’s more realistic for my own life and point of view. I also really like whump, but that can be a lot sometimes so it depends on my mood.

Favorite piece of your own writing: I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I loved writing Back to the Start (my mermaid series) and The Switch (a canon-divergent apocalyptic Reader x Sam series). Right now, I'm really enjoying my Consort series (a Goddess!Reader x Dean series). Creating my own rules in my own little universes is one of my favorite things to do, especially since I can’t always do whatever I want in real life.

Most underrated fic you have written: Empire. I loved getting to write Boyking!Sam because it was so different from my normal Sam stories and I did a lot of research for it. I’m pretty proud that the story never got too bloody or gory, too, so if you want some Boyking!Sam that’s not drenched in blood (for lack of a better term), I’m your girl!

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Probably Back to the Start or The Switch. I think those two series would be amazing to see with J2, the rest of the cast/characters I included, and special effects! There’s so much I’d want to explore with both of them that I didn’t put into the series.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @luci-in-trenchcoats, @sunlightdances, @supernaturalfreewill, @lipstickandwhiskey, @smol-and-grumpy, @percywinchester27, and @kaz2y5-imagines

Favorite fic from another writer:  I don’t think I could pick just one, but I’ve read all of @sunlightdances Dean fics multiple times. Her works got me through some pretty sucky times in my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of her writing! I’ve also been reading her Bucky fics recently and it’s made me love Marvel fics even more than before!​

Favorite character to write: Sam Winchester

Favorite Pairing to write: Reader x Sam (Reader x Dean is a close second)

Least favorite character to write (and why): I don’t like to write for Crowley or Gabriel. Gadreel is hard for me even though I can do it, but I don’t understand Crowley or Gabriel’s personalities at all because they’re literally so far away from mine.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? No, although @lipstickandwhiskey and @kaz2y5-imagines really encouraged me in my writing!​

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I would love to write a non-Supernatural work of fiction to publish, but that’s a long way off.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: Oh Lord, I have so many! I have at least four series and two one shots in the works right now. I've also got over 100 one shots/series plotlines written out in the notes on my phone and various Google Docs.

What are you currently working on? I’m currently working on a Cinderella series, my Underworld series, my Puer Rex series, my Consort series, an Author!Sam fic, and an Author!Dean fic. I also write stories for my Words series now and again.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Reading other people’s work. The intense storylines of @luci-in-trenchcoats ’s fics have gotten me to be more bold with my writing and the emotions and description in @supernaturalfreewill’s works have inspired me to let my work have more feeling.

Best writing advice you've been given: Not necessarily writing advice, but I was once told that anything worth doing is worth doing at least a little bit every day. Think about it—if you wrote even just five minutes a day, how much better will you get over the course of a month? A year?

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Repetition of words and commas. So many commas and so many uses of the same word over and over again. It’s a hard balance between using the word and using synonyms without sounding like I’m sitting there googling synonyms for “said”. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things that I think are super important but aren’t really important in the long run. I’m wordy as hell and my writing would be dull if I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I do.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? A lot of times I have these ideas that I think would make a great series but I don’t think through them, so planning out the plot of a series (or even a standalone fic) beforehand is something I struggle with.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I would love to write more fics that have the characters dealing with severe mental disorders or that take place in a mental hospital, but I’m afraid that I’ll portray something wrong and solidify harmful stereotypes about what it’s like to deal with those things.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Honestly, just wanting to write things that I enjoy. Sometimes I get sick of reading other peoples’ stuff since it’s not exactly what I want, so I just write my own!

How do you deal with self doubt: Understand that sometimes it happens. You’ll doubt yourself—everybody does. If I’m doubting myself or my writing, I’ll take a break until I remember why I write. Then I’ll remember that yeah, writing for an audience is fun, but I write because I have cool ideas I want to explore, not because I need the attention or love of strangers. Lastly, I’ll reread my old fics, especially the ones I love, and then I’ll go back and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. That way I can see how I’ve improved and I don’t feel so terrible anymore! Reading my own fics is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, and I’ll read through my masterlists every once a while just to remind myself of the things I’ve loved, where I’ve been, and where I’m going.

How do you deal with writer's block: Like I said, I reread old fics and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. Seeing the things I’ve done before always helps to focus me. I’ll also read other people’s stuff or talk about headcanons with some friends to try and find some inspiration.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Lately I have been, but only because my periods of intense inspiration and productivity are getting farther and farther apart because of my job. I’ve found planning it out to be more and more helpful, especially for my series. A lot of times if I get a great idea, I’ll outline the whole plot or any significant details I want to put in that one shot/series so that I can come back to it whenever I have the time or I’m inspired for it again.

Do you have any weird writing habits: I write best in places that are unfamiliar to me or in places/times where I shouldn’t be writing. Class? Writing. Airport terminal? Writing. 4am when I have to be up at 6? Writing.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? Not that I remember! I feel like there’s probably been one or two over the years, but I probably just got upset about it with my friends for a while and then got over it.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic? A long time ago, when I was writing Back to the Start, I had one person who sent me asks for every single series update. I screenshotted them and saved them on my laptop. There’s one particular one where they say that they’re happier because of my writing and honestly, isn’t that what we all strive for? That people’s lives are better because of our stories? I’ve also had some pretty great friends recently who’ve made it a point to reblog and send asks/messages on all my works, which has been so meaningful that I never replied to the asks. They’re sitting in my inbox and I go through and reread them sometimes when I’m feeling down.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  ​Write down everything. If you come up with an amazing piece of dialogue, even if it’s just one sentence or one person talking, or if you come up with something you’d think would be a great title… WRITE IT DOWN. It doesn’t matter if it fits into whatever you’re currently writing or not, it’ll come in handy! I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through my idea list and found really obscure lines/titles/inspiration that didn’t make sense when I wrote them down, but are now exactly what I need to finish a fic. Even if you don’t end up using it, jotting down your ideas is still writing, and that’s good practice!

[asterekmess]

I've started reading Sterek fic again after years away from fandom (purely because of your posts btw) and there is an alarming number of Stiles being pushed/kicked out of the pack and treated horribly but he still goes out of his way to help and forgives all with random Sterek thrown in at the end. I did not miss that nonsense at all. Why is that so popular?

That’s very sweet of you, and I’m happy that you’ve found a love of fic again!

So, this trope. I...I love this trope. A lot of fans do, obviously.

I’mma put this under a read more, just because I tend to ramble.

First off, I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s a lot of...side-splitting within the sterek fandom? At least, for those of us who aren’t fans of Scott. You see a lot of “Hale Pack” versus “McCall Pack” stuff. A lot of that comes about because people don’t like that Derek lost his Alpha status (I definitely don’t like it) but also because Derek never actually joins Scott’s pack. He is always on the fringes, whether because he gets put there or because he puts himself there. It’s not hard to separate him from Scott’s group, because he was never a part of it to begin with.

For Sterek shippers, we usually want Stiles to be in Derek’s pack (some people who don’t mind Scott, or even like him, also like to make Stiles a sort of bridge between the two packs? Belonging to both and neither at the same time?) but that is kind of difficult to make when it’s so much more specific in canon about Stiles being in Scott’s pack.

I’ve seen lots of people argue that Scott never had an actual ‘pack’, just a group of friends, or that Lydia and Stiles were never part of his pack, and I don’t know enough meta to say whether that’s right or not.

I do know that throughout the show, Stiles (whether we like it or not) considers Scott his best friend. Many fans of Derek can’t reconcile Derek and Scott ever being close friends because of their history together, and that creates a sort of break. How can Stiles be friends with someone his partner hates, and how can he date someone his best friend hates?

So, writers do their best to separate Stiles from Scott’s pack within their fic. Sometimes it involves the rest of the pack also dispersing and Scott getting left alone, and sometimes the rest of the pack sticks with Scott and Stiles and Derek go off to be their own pack.

When it comes to Stiles getting ‘kicked out’ of the pack, I think it’s important to note that part of that is just the hurt/comfort of it all. How many of us have been cut out of friend groups, or family groups, and had to make our own way and wished there was someone on the outside who would take us in? So, we write that happening, giving Stiles that dream we wish for by having Derek help get Stiles back on his feet, or support him so thoroughly that he never hits the ground in the first place.

Another part has to do with how much more difficult and convoluted it can be to write him peacefully leaving Scott’s pack (since we’ve already established that in these situations, Stiles staying in Scott’s pack is a no-go). There’s so much more to explain when he’s still buddies with everyone and just...leaves anyway? Of course, it can be (and has been) done, but a lot of writers don’t want to put in the extra effort (I am one of them, tbqh).

Another part has surely come about from that scene in the rain. For a lot of Stiles fans, this was the absolute breaking point. Stiles had been kicked out of the pack (I haven’t seen the actual episode myself, so I try v hard not to bring it up in meta, bc I don’t know what the fuck I’m on about) and it became a catalyst for a lot of fics that show Stiles getting shoved away, put on the edges so much like Derek had been, and the two of them finding each other instead.

Now, on to the point of your message. The cases where the trope ends with Stiles forgiving Scott and whoever else was involved in him getting removed from the pack. Obviously, this would be a case by case basis. Every writer has their own reasons and we can only speculate most of the time about why they wrote something a specific way.

Some people like Scott, and want to see him grow. So they use the fic to work out their frustrations with his and Stiles’ uneven friendship, and end it with some forgiveness and leave the characters with the chance to grow back into better friends. Some people like those around Scott and don’t want to have to leave them out of the rest of the story just because they’re part of Scott’s pack and Stiles has left. So, even if they don’t particularly want Scott to be Stiles’ Alpha, they still want Stiles to be able to be close to and interact with Scott’s pack, which requires a bit of forgiveness. Another option, is related to how people perceive Stiles himself. We all project on Stiles’ character a lot, I think. Whether it’s projecting our own personality or just the personality we wish we had, we all do it, so we’ve all got very different perceptions of Stiles’ personality and behaviors.

Some see Stiles as ruthless, take-no-shit badass who will destroy you if you piss him off. The kind of genius who would hack into the local police department and screw with your permanent record. Most of the time, those ‘kinds’ of Stiles’ don’t do any forgiving, and usually they get some kind of revenge. Some see him as a really sensitive, broken, love-starved guy who just wants some fucking friends, damn it. Who would give anything for them and is always willing to help others, even strangers, because being helpful is just so integral to his character. Those ‘kinds’ of Stiles’ usually go running back into the fight to save people who’ve screwed him over, they forgive and they forget because they don’t know how to do anything else. Some people (myself included) see Stiles as a very broken and insecure guy. Not insecure about his body (though, yeah, I’ve written some stuff where he is) or about his own intelligence, but insecure about his relationships with other people. Also, as someone very loyal, to the point of immorality. They see Stiles as a guy with a select group of people that he actually gives a fuck about, and for those people? He is ride-or-die, with you to the end of the line, step into gasoline for you loyal. In those cases, Stiles often forgives people because he can’t bear the thought of not having this person in his life anymore, he isn’t capable of letting go, even if it’s for good reason. He helps them because they’ve been burned into his heart and he cannot watch them hurt or suffer. They are family, and he will burn the world down for them, even if he also kind of hates them?

So, there’s lots of reasons that he would do that, but I understand how frustrating it can be to see it over and over again, especially when you’re really displeased with certain characters (ethan or aiden or scott or peter, etc). The best I can suggest is to block certain tags. Using Scott as an example, rather than searching only for “Scott is a bad friend”  or “Scott is a bad Alpha” fics, which would massively cut down on the available fics for you, while also missing ones that may have that content without it being tagged, instead try blocking the opposite tag, so that at least you won’t be getting the fics that have “Scott is a good friend” or “Scott is a good alpha” as a main point of the fic. Again, this will definitely miss some, and you’ll still end up with untagged instances of it, but it will definitely cut down on it. Took me ages to actually think to do it, but I’ve been much happier reading fics since then.

[veliseraptor]

hey, i've been reading the everything sucks au again and I have a question: does natasha know about all the shit that went down? like, is she aware that loki died? if she is, how did she react? did she hear a rumor, did Bucky tell her via secret code, or did she hear about Ross's death and saw the state of the weather and put two and two together? and how would she react to loki coming back?

HEY THANKS FOR REMINDING ME HOW MUCH I LIKE THIS VERSE, I just wrote almost 2k tonight of this because I got so wound up about it. tony snuck in there so sorry about that but it’s still really about natasha. 

anyway for those of you who forgot - the everything sucks au is the au of remember this cold where ross has loki executed before steve arrives at the raft. it’s got a tag of its own, or if you prefer a version posted on ao3.

and the deep river ran on, 1.9k, natasha pov, some natasha & tony

At least Tony gave her advance warning, so Natasha had time to go thoroughly to ground before Ross’s people caught up with her. And she did - she knew how to do it, had always been ready to do it, like she’d known someday it would come to this no matter how desperately she’d wanted to believe it wouldn’t.

Everything ended. She knew that better than anyone.

Still, it stung.

She kept her head down, way down, for the next two months. It was only when she came up for air that she learned that Secretary Ross had been murdered. In his home, single gunshot wound to the head. The official word was no suspects but Natasha dug into the files (risky, keep your nose out of it) and if she couldn’t be sure…

Looked like the Winter Soldier was back. She would’ve said on the warpath but it didn’t seem like he’d hit anyone else - just Ross, and that made a nervous prickle crawl down Natasha’s spine.

Steve, was her first thought. If something had happened to Steve - if Ross’s people had caught up to him somehow - but no, if it had been like that it would’ve been all over the news. Plenty of spin, sure, but they wouldn’t be able to keep Captain America’s death quiet.

There was a possibility that Barnes had just lost control, but then she’d expect a lot more bodies. Steve wouldn’t just let Barnes go off and kill someone, no matter how pissed off he might be, which meant Steve either hadn’t been there to stop him or hadn’t been able to.

Her list of possible conclusions was narrowing fast, pointing in one direction. Because if Steve wasn’t dead, and Bucky had gone after Ross, and no one had stopped him from doing it…

There weren’t a lot of people Barnes would do that for. Steve. Sam, maybe.

And Loki.

Shit, Natasha thought, and went looking for records. Didn’t take much to track down Ross’s secret underwater prison. They’d saved records of the security footage - she found the cameras for the cells first, and watched her friends: Wanda rocking back and forth in a straightjacket, Sam pacing, Clint lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling with one hand behind his head. At least she knew they’d been freed - that was in the news, the ex-Avenger fugitives. Where were they now?

She didn’t know enough.

What she did know, though, before too long, was that her hunch had been right. Timestamped footage of Loki’s execution, tucked away in the databanks. There were other files in the same folder; Natasha opened one and watched maybe thirty seconds before closing it and exiting the system, slipping out of the internet cafe she’d been working from.

She walked three blocks before sitting down in a park, spine straight, and breathed. Piecing events together. Steve and Bucky had gone to Siberia to deal with the other Winter Soldiers there. Loki must not have gone with them - must have stayed back with the others, and been captured. She’d bet that had been Vision. Other than Thor, Bruce, and Wanda, he was probably the only one with the raw power.

From there, it looked like it’d been a short road to Ross having him quietly eliminated. It made sense. Loki was dangerous, next to impossible to contain. And - based on those other files - valuable for other reasons.

Steve came back to free the others, because of course he did. By then, Loki was already gone. And afterwards…

God, Steve.

Natasha’s feelings on Loki were - complicated. And that was putting it mildly. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. But at the same time - he wasn’t what she’d thought he was. Over the past few years, he’d done nothing bad - unless you counted what he and Barnes had done to Hydra, which she didn’t - and a surprising amount of good. That he loved Steve was beyond doubting, and he’d managed to forge friendships with Barnes and Wanda both, and mended fences with Thor. And he’d apparently been willing to sacrifice himself to give Steve and Barnes a fighting chance.

Oh, shit, Thor. Steve was one thing. Steve would turn inward, blame himself, rip himself to shreds. Thor, though...Thor would turn his fury outward. Where that wrath would fall…

Maybe on the whole planet. Almost certainly on Tony.

Natasha pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and then let them fall away. “Fuck,” she whispered hoarsely. She’d known things would be bad. But this bad?

She half thought she should just go back underground. Weather out the storm. She wished she knew a way to reach out to Steve, or if her presence would even be welcome. Would he blame her, for supporting the Accords? For his loss?

Did she blame herself?

She could probably track down Clint, if she tried. Talk to him. It would be a comfort, probably; he usually was. But maybe he’d be angry with her, too.

Natasha should be used to being alone, but just now, she was very aware of it.

**

It wasn’t hard to know when Thor came back. When he knew. Monster storms lashed the planet, the sky cracking open with the force of a god’s rage and grief. There were no reports of Tony Stark’s death, though, and she was pretty sure that would’ve made news. Natasha reached out, carefully, to Jane Foster, but she didn’t answer her phone.

No word of Steve Rogers. No sign of the Winter Soldier. The storms died down, eventually.

Something drove Natasha back into the files on the Raft. She wiped the entire folder that held all the footage of Loki. It was a stupid gesture - meaningless, really. But whatever Loki had done–

He deserved better than that. Than having his death and desecration reduced to a few megabytes on a government server.

**

The message from Tony caught her by surprise. He said he wanted to see her. She thought about ignoring it - thought hard about ignoring it - but in the end decided she’d take the bait. He wanted her to come to his place in Malibu, which she declined, requesting somewhere public instead. They went back and forth in coded messages for a while before Tony sent one that said, please Nat I need to talk to someone.

Weak, she thought, settling into Tony’s lab, but she was still here.

Tony looked wrecked when he came downstairs and stopped dead, looking at her. After a second he just made a face and said, “yeah, okay,” before stepping in. “Um. Hey.”

She didn’t respond. His words to her still stung. Old habits die hard. He shifted, and rubbed a hand down his face. “So you’re pissed at me too, huh,” he said. “Go ahead, get it out of your system.”

Natasha just leaned on the table. “I don’t have anything to get out of my system,” she said. “You said you needed to talk to someone. I’m here.”

Tony sank down onto a bench. “Ross killed Loki,” he said, after a moment.

“I know,” Natasha said. She hesitated before asking, “where’s Steve?”

Tony’s expression spasmed, tightened. “Wakanda, right now.” That didn’t come as a particular surprise.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Is he the reason you’re here? To find out how he’s doing?” The bitterness in Tony’s voice was unmistakable. Natasha just leveled him with a look, and Tony’s lips twisted. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I have.”

“And?” Natasha said, when he didn’t expand.

“Not like we’re having many heart-to-hearts these days,” Tony said. “But I’d say he’s probably better now that Loki’s back from the dead.”

Natasha was sure, at first, that she’d misheard him. Then she was sure she was misunderstanding.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Back from the dead. We did that. Thor and Steve and I. They all left about a week ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Natasha said.

“I know,” Tony said. “I know. I thought they were crazy, when Steve came asking me for help, but - guess not. They did it. We did it, I went with them, it seemed like...seemed like I should, even if, if they both hate my guts right now. Maybe forever. But I thought maybe it would, I don’t know, help.” His laugh was raw. “Yeah, not so much. Fuck. But yeah, we found the bastard, dragged him out, he was crazy as a shithouse rat - wouldn’t stop screaming for I swear to god the first ten fucking hours even if he ran out of voice after about three. Kept going anyway, though. And neither of them - Thor, Steve, neither of them would hear anything about how maybe he wasn’t going to just - bounce back, be fine–”

Natasha was still trying to process back from the dead, but Tony was certainly painting a vivid picture. She could see it, too: Thor and Steve both closing ranks around Loki. It wouldn’t matter how crazy he was, how damaged. They wouldn’t care.

“It got better, I guess. Sort of. He was walking and talking by the time they took him out of here, anyway. But he’s - fucked up. Deep down broken, maybe. And I don’t know, maybe I did the wrong thing, brought back something that shouldn’t be here…”

He trailed off.

“Why’d you do it,” Natasha asked.

“What?”

“If you had all these misgivings,” she asked, keeping her voice neutral, “why’d you do it? Why did you help?”

“Everything’s fucked up,” Tony said after a moment, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think - I didn’t want him dead. I didn’t think Ross was that stupid.” Natasha said nothing. She didn’t think she needed to say that at least two people had told him that would be exactly what Ross would do; she was sure he already knew. “Loki dying - broke things. And I know that was - at least partly my fault. So I thought if I helped get him back…”

“It didn’t work,” Natasha said, not a question. Tony snorted, harsh and humorless.

“No,” he said. “No, it fucking didn’t.”

She couldn’t say she was surprised. Loki might be back now, but that didn’t erase the fact that he’d died.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“No,” Tony said, sounding relieved. “I fucking didn’t. Thank you.”

“But it still did,” Natasha said.

Tony’s expression turned bitter. “You too, huh?”

“We all have to face the consequences of what we do,” Natasha said. “I know I am.”

Tony’s expression wavered. “Jesus fuck. It’s not all my fault. I was just trying to…” He trailed off, and his shoulders slumped. He sighed, looking away. “I thought I could fix this.”

That’s your problem, Natasha thought. You think you should be able to fix everything. “Some things,” she said, “you just can’t.” She stood up. “It’s not safe to contact me. For either of us. Don’t do it again.”

She left. She thought maybe this - Loki’s resurrection - should feel like good news, but she only felt more alone than ever.

[iamanartichoke]

Can I still send smth for "i wish u would write a fic where”? Cause I've just seen this on twitter: ✨incorrect thor & loki ✨‏ @wrongbrodinsons "loki: what would the chef recommend? waiter: sir, this is mcdonalds thor: please excuse my brother, he’s not familiar with earth etiquette. what would the McChef recommend?" and absolutely need a fan fic with this convo here lol

Okay, so, I just want to disclaim this particular response by saying that Brodinson silliness isn’t generally my fic forte (much as my shitposting their Midgardian adventures might have you believe otherwise) so … this is just what came out. There’s some angst, some silliness, and a lot of drunk!Brodinsons and it’s super long because I am me, and I apologize. Also, I didn’t really revise this because if I think about it too much, I won’t post it, haha. I’m not super confident in it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thanks for the challenging prompt, I do like to try things outside of my comfort zone. :) 

Word Count: 2485 

It is after their fifth bottle of whiskey that Thor’s eyes brighten with the kind of mischief he only adopts when he’s good and inebriated. Loki groans as he sees the look shift swiftly across Thor’s features. “No,” he says simply, taking another swig from his bottle. The whiskey is not bad, but it is not good either. However, most Midgardian liquors do absolutely nothing for either of them, and the few that do have an effect must be consumed in copious amounts.

It is one of the things Loki misses about Asgard, how sweet wine and mead would flow steadily at feasts and meals or in the taverns deep into the night. He misses the days when he and Thor would share ale over a fire, talking of the day’s exploits and laughing in sync. Once, life had been simple, if not necessarily good.

“What,” Thor says, raising an eyebrow at Loki. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I know that look,” Loki points out with a roll of his eyes. He and Thor, in a rare mood that had struck them both after the evening meal, have settled themselves on the back porch of their apartment, their alcohol on a small table between their two chairs. The chairs are something called lounge chairs, which allow them to lean back and stretch their legs out comfortably. It was an undignified way to sit, to be sure, but Loki had to admit that he enjoyed the laziness of it, especially as he felt himself grow more intoxicated.

Thor plays innocent. He takes a long swig, finishing off the bottle he’d been nursing for awhile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki. I was just thinking we should get something to eat.”

“We just ate the evening meal about two hours ago,” Loki points out.

“Yes, but drinking always makes me hungry. You know this,” Thor returns. “Anyway, haven’t you ever heard of a midnight snack?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “No, Thor. As a matter of fact, I have not heard of a midnight snack. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Thor gives his deep, rumbling laugh, which lasts just a moment too long. At this rate, Loki thinks wryly as he brings his bottle back to his lips, he will be pouring Thor into bed within the hour. Loki himself has been going much more slowly, allowing the warmth of the whiskey to work through him slowly and steadily. He is not sober, but nor is he as drunk as Thor. It’s a safe place to be.

“A midnight snack,” Thor explains, sitting up a bit and fixing Loki with an earnest stare, as if he is about to provide him with the answers to the universe, “is a snack … which is eaten at or close to midnight.”

Loki waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Loki cannot help his own laughter. Thor is such a dope, he thinks fondly. Loki may be more drunk than he’d realized, because it suddenly seems very funny instead of irritating. “You might have to write that one down for me, brother,” is all he says. “I might not remember your detailed and thorough explanation, otherwise.”

“True enough,” Thor agrees, with another laugh. He picks up a new bottle of whiskey, uncapping it easily as he settles back into his chair. “So, what say you, brother? Do you want to go on an adventure?” He gives a grin and wiggles his eyebrows a bit.

“Hmm. I rather think I’ve had enough adventure to last awhile.” Loki extends the bottle in his hand, swirling it around to determine how much is left. A fair amount, but less than he expected. “Don’t you?”

“Never,” Thor answers earnestly. “As long as I have a heart that beats, it will beat in tune to the battle cry of Asgard, it will echo glory and honor to Valhalla itself, it will -”

“Norns, I’m sorry I asked,” Loki cuts him off. “I used to hate that, you know,” he adds. He feels languid, lethargic, and the words slip from his tongue before he realizes he’d been thinking them. Once they are out, it is too late to swallow them back down again. He sips his whiskey, avoiding Thor’s gaze.

“Hate what?”

Loki waves a hand. “Your … unquenchable thirst for battle,” he elaborates. “I never understood why anyone would willingly seek out battle. Defending yourself is one thing, but …” He trails off, lifts his shoulders. “You never lost that, you know? That battle-lust. You were taken down a few pegs, to be sure, but you seek battle as ferociously as you ever have.” Loki grins, despite himself. “You’re just not so irritating about it anymore.”

Thor tilts his head, his eye flicking over Loki. He does not look unpleased with the assessment, but for a long while, he does not say anything, either. Finally, after a particularly large swallow of whiskey, he says, “I think that’s the most you’ve really said to me at one time in … quite a long time.”

“I speak to you all the time,” Loki reminds him.

“No, you don’t.” Thor adjusts himself slightly, crossing one ankle over the other. “You respond to me. You offer your opinion, warranted or not. Occasionally you make a joke. But you don’t speak to me about how you feel. You don’t speak to me about our lives before … well, everything. You don’t even mention Asgard anymore, though the wound must still be as fresh for you as it is for me.”

Loki does not speak of Asgard because speaking about it will not bring it back. He feels a slight twitch in his chest, where his heart lies. Indeed, the wound is fresh, but that is one of the many differences between himself and Thor. Loki nurses his wounds privately, bandaging them up with silence and repression, while Thor lets his bleed for everyone to see. “It would serve little purpose to speak of,” Loki answers, resting his head against the back of his chair. His face feels warm, which is one of the tell-tale signs that he is growing less sober.

“Perhaps,” Thor agrees, to Loki’s surprise. “But I wish you would try more often.”

A silence falls over them, weighted with all of the things they have not said. Loki takes a very long swallow of his drink, finishing off the rest of the bottle in one sip. He is sorry he said anything, sorry that his words punctured the relative peace that they’d had before. “Okay,” he says, setting his bottle down a bit too hard on the table. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

“What?” Thor blinks.

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Loki tells him, sitting up. His head spins. He was going to be feeling this tomorrow. “Come on, before it changes again.”

At once, Thor’s face splits into his wide, brilliant smile. Norns, but Loki loves that stupid smile. He is inebriated enough to admit to himself, but still sensible enough not to speak it aloud. Thor does not need any more reason to be arrogant. “Rhodey told me of a restaurant,” Thor says as he stands and offers Loki his hand. Loki grasps it, and Thor pulls him up, and they both stumble a bit.

“You big oaf,” Loki grumbles, righting himself.

“Rhodey told me of a restaurant,” Thor continues, as if Loki had not spoken, “where one might find a spectacular midnight snack. I believe he said it’s called McDonalds.”

“All right,” Loki says, weaving carefully around Thor to the patio door. “Is it far?”

“Only a few blocks. Now, brother,” Thor begins, setting his expression very straight, “this is an adventure, a quest, which we cannot fail. It must be treated with the utmost care and precision.”

“I didn’t know you knew the definition of those words.”

“Shut up. We must move quietly, stealthily, lest the others see what we are doing.”

“Thor,” Loki says, growing more amused by the moment, “no one else is here.”

“That we know of,” Thor retorts. He gives Loki a little nudge and Loki rolls his eyes, but he carefully opens the patio door and slips inside. The apartment is dim, but not dark. Thor, practically on Loki’s heels, keeps whispering, “Shhh!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Loki retorts, and stumbles over one of Thor’s discarded boots. “Shit. Thor, how many times -”

Thor clamps his hand over Loki’s mouth, giving him a frown of disapproval. Loki wants to snicker, but refrains. He has forgotten how truly silly Thor can be, when the mood strikes just right. When Thor removes his hand, Loki speaks again, in an exaggerated whisper.

“How many times have I told you not to leave your damn boots around?”

“I don’t remember.” Thor leans over and scoops up the boot, shoving it on before searching for its mate. Loki waits patiently for him. He cannot help a snicker when Thor steps too widely and loses his balance, collapsing onto the sofa.

“What were you saying about stealth, brother?”

Thor shoots Loki a glare, but it does not hold more than a few seconds before his own face collapses into amusement. When he finally finishes putting on his boots, they waste another few minutes searching for their keys, wallets, all manner of trinkets that one must carry everywhere with him on Midgard. Once they have thoroughly prepared for their adventure, they set off into the cool evening, Thor banging the door closed rather loudly behind them.

“You never were very good at sneaking around,” Loki remarks. He wobbles a bit as they begin walking, and Thor must notice, for he reaches out and grips Loki’s arm. Loki responds by gripping Thor back, until they are clinging to one another as if they were mere boys. “Do you remember when we’d sneak into the kitchen after evening meal for pastries?”

“Oh, yes!” Thor seems to have completely forgotten stealth; his voice booms around them, deep and warm. It sends a reverberating shiver weaving through Loki’s ribs. Neither of them are walking in a particularly straight line, Loki notices with amusement. All of this is so terribly funny. “We got caught more times than not, I believe.”

“Yes, because you were utterly incapable of stealth,” Loki reminds him. “You’d crash about, pretend we were sword-ing through dragons and beasts -” He cuts himself off and starts laughing. “Oh my, did you hear me lose that verb? Sword fighting, I meant to say.”

“Yes, hold on.” Thor lets go of Loki enough to bend over, pretending to fumble around on the ground. He comes back up a moment later, victory in his grin. He extends a hand to Loki. “I believe you dropped your verb, good sir.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Loki says, plucking the empty air from Thor’s palm and making a show of tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll just leave that there, in case I need it later. Thank you kindly, my friend.”

“That is what heroes do,” Thor answers with an exaggerated swagger, which throws both of them off balance. It sets Loki off again, and when Thor laughs with him, his eye twinkles with more than just inebriation. It is happiness, Loki realizes.

By the time they get to the restaurant, neither of them are taking anything seriously. Which is likely a good thing, because Loki is immediately appalled upon entering the brightly-lit building. “Now, Loki,” Thor says seriously as, for some bizarre reason, they approach the counter. It is relatively empty, but the servants on the opposite side of the counter are looking at Thor and Loki warily. “This is not a usual restaurant. We must order and pay first, and then choose our own table.”

Loki looks at him as if he has lost his mind. It is entirely possible that he has. Still, Thor strides forward confidently, leaving Loki no choice but to follow.

“Welcome to McDonald’s,” says the boy behind the counter, his gaze flicking from Loki to Thor and back again. He is practically a child, Loki thinks. “What can I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Loki answers, glancing at Thor. What kind of place has Thor brought them to? It seems utterly ludicrous. “What does the chef recommend?”

The child blinks. “Um, sir, this - this is McDonald’s,” he responds, as if Loki had not heard him say that very thing just a moment ago. Loki should be very irritated, but instead, he hides a smile behind his hand.

“Please, excuse my brother,” Thor speaks up. “He isn’t used to proper Earth etiquette.” The child’s brow furrows, but Thor goes on, in a very straight voice, “What would the McChef of McDonald’s recommend?”

Loki breaks up, turning his head and pressing it into Thor’s shoulder as he snickers.

“Uh.” The child sounds as if he is already sick of them. “A lot of people like the Big Mac.”

“We’ll have that, then.”

The rest of the transaction goes by, with Loki trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing while Thor takes great care with his words and movements. When they are finished at the counter, they weave around tables and find a booth near the back, where Loki collapses and lets out a breath. “I don’t know why this is so funny,” he admits to Thor, rubbing his eyes. “But the look on that boy’s face -”

Thor is grinning, sliding into the seat opposite Loki. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you have so much fun,” he admits, and picks up a potato stick. “I miss it.”

“Do not get maudlin, Thor,” Loki warns, poking uncertainly at his meal. “Norns, what is this? It looks absolutely revolting.”

“This is the finest cuisine Midgard has to offer,” Thor responds cheerfully. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“All the more reason to flee this wretched realm,” Loki replies. “Will you remind me why we chose this place?”

“Because,” Thor says grandly, “I am king, and I am an Avenger, and thus I am needed here. Where else might we go? Can I really risk our people to the dwarves of Nidavellir? The trickery of the Vanir? The humans are relatively harmless to our people and, thus, we may co-exist for awhile. The Avengers, as well, will always need another pair of - oh, brother, might I borrow that verb?”

Loki rolls his eyes, stubborn smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He exaggerates reaching into his pocket and then extending his palm to Thor. “It is all yours,” he says.

Thor very carefully pantomimes picking up the verb from Loki’s palm. “Thank you kindly. The Avengers will always need another pair of fighting hands. Therefore, this is the correct place to be.”

“I suppose I defer to your wisdom, then, my king,” Loki returns magnanimously. He pokes at his food again. “But the food is still disgusting.”