#since she was the only one brave enough to CALL HIS SHIT the entire time. truly as i said a badass. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mintkookiess · 1 year

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It's you?!

A/N: Craving more 42!Miles screen time. Better yet, I want him to have an entire goddamn film.

Another post from the private vault! hope y'all like this one as much as I did! (｡･･｡)

Love,

Mint

Summary: 42!Miles and his weird ass obsession on finding out Spiderwoman!reader's real identity (and vice versa, but less obsessive LMAO she just curious)

Tags: 42!Miles x Spiderwoman!reader, some cussing, choking (not that kind) enemies -> friends

Word count: 2.3k

The Prowler had a sick grin behind his mask as he stared at the woman standing a few feet away from him. It was almost laughable to him how she could stand for all the heroic shit, even her suit looked downright ridiculous. “You’re a brave one to try to stop me, I’ll give you that.” He laughed with his voice slightly distorted from the voice changer. “But I hate to break it to you ma, I’m going to remind you where you belong, to make you remember your fucking place.”

Though deep down he knew that he always looked forward to their fights and banters. Sure, he’s handled a bunch of big enemies and may have been beaten to a pulp once or twice, but nothing makes him feel more alive than fighting the one and only Spiderwoman. Little does he know that he’s slowly garnering some sort of obsession over finding out who she was.

He was itching to know what kind of person this woman was who had the actual capabilities of making him excited and thrilled over fighting, something he grew to hate.

"Yeah, I will. Since my place will always be above you." Y/n replied coolly behind her mask. As Spiderwoman, she is obligated to eradicate all evils in Brooklyn, but this Prowler dude always made it interesting for her. And today was just like their usual encounters.

Sometimes, she admits that she wants to know who he was beneath all that tacky suit. Like why does he look like fucking Dracula?

I hate that fucking mask. Miles thought as he scowls down at the hero. All he wanted was to rip the mask off of her head and finally see her face. He couldn't exactly understand his undying obsession with finding out. Like, why her of all heroes?

He growled in frustration with himself, clawed out his hand, and lunged at Y/n, ready to rip her apart. In response to this however, Y/n was quick enough to instantly shoot a web by a nearby building on their right, flinging herself towards it to dodge him. "Is that the best you got pretty boy?" She called out.

"Pretty boy?" Miles raised an eyebrow behind his mask. He snarled, jumping off the ground to thrust towards her once more, this time using full force to try to pin her against the wall. He does this successfully, picking Y/n up by her throat. "Who are you?" Miles hissed, his claws retracting before digging his metal-covered fingers into her neck more. "Tell me, damn it."

Y/n kept her body calm and tried to maintain proper breathing despite being choked by him. "Spiderwoman, who else would I be?" She choked, her mind trying to find the best way possible to escape from his deadly grasp.

"That's not what I meant," Miles glared, squeezing even tighter than before. His golden brown eyes slowly became wild in anger, almost as if something's taken over him.

"Answer me properly, pretty girl," He seethed, his mask glitching slightly. Though he called her "pretty girl", he did so in such a mocking tone.

Miles dropped her to the ground but doesn't waste a second before pinning her against the wall with his arm over her head. With his height, he just easily towers over her.

The sight egged him on, the feeling of having Spider-Woman beneath him like this was exhilarating.

"Who. Are. You."

"Someone who's... about to kick your goddamn ass." She murmured before her leg flew up to his arm, and with every force she could muster she kicked it down, making him lose balance.

She shoots another web to the building on the opposite side, keeping a fair distance from the Prowler. "Why do you want to know me so badly?" She called out to him.

"Because I want to know my enemy,” Miles yelled back, letting out a low growl as he rose to his feet and sped across to her once more. He lands back close to her, glaring at her with a slightly amused look. It's just a game to him after all. A game of cat and mouse and he was definitely not the mouse.

"I'll stop at nothing until I found out who you are," He gritted through his teeth. "You won't get away that easily ma."

Y/n only snorted at his words. "Oh yeah? I think I do a pretty great job at doing that pretty boy." She smirked behind her mask before instantly swinging away, leaving him.

But of course, Miles wasn't backing down, quickly chasing after her. "Who the fuck are you?!" He yelled loudly, but she doesn't answer. They both played chase across multiple buildings. Miles was determined not to lose her this time though, picking up his speed until he was practically at the same speed as her.

This must be his new world record, Uncle Aaron would be damn proud.

"I won't stop chasing you until I know." Y/n rolled her eyes at how persistent he was being. Miles wants to know who this hero was, and why she drove him insane with obsession, or how she got him looking forward to fighting her.

"Well for starters, why the hell are you so obsessed with me? Honestly, don't you have better things to do?!" She called out as she continuously swung between buildings by her webs. Least to say though, Y/n was impressed that the Prowler could catch up at all. But then again, when has he ever failed to impress her?

"It's not an obsession," Miles denied, following close behind her. Even Y/n knew that wasn't the truth.

Miles is a villain. He kills. He maims. He hurts whomever he wants. But with her? Something just felt different. She's special, nothing like the rest of them. She has something he can't quite explain. Some sort of magnet that keeps him wanting to see her often? To fight her more than he does with the usual people he dealt with?

"Why do you keep running away ma?" He asked nonchalantly, but Miles knew he was just trying to keep her under his grasp for a bit longer. "You can fight. Why run?"

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Then let's fight pretty boy." She swung back around towards him, landing her foot on his torso, kicking him hard across the concrete before landing flawlessly on the ground.

Miles grunts loudly and stumbles back, hitting a beaten-up car behind him. He looks up at her, glaring. "That's more like it ma," He leered, the sun creating shadows on his face, making him look even more intimidating.

He grunted as he stood up, getting close to her once again until he was merely inches away from her face. "You must tell me. You can't keep it from me." Miles grunted. His eyes were wild and insane as if he's lost control of... whatever he was feeling towards this Spiderwoman.

"If I told you who I was, that defeats the entire anonymous persona thing I've got going." Y/n chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. Though she admits, she was also quite eager to know who Prowler was. Oh hell no, just curious.

"Tell me already!" Miles almost yelled, balling his hands into fists. He's getting angrier by the minute. At who exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was mad at her because she was being stubborn, or mad at his behavior and the way he was acting right now.

But Miles doesn't care. He only cares about the fact that he's not getting the information he wants.

He just wants to know who she was so badly so he could finally get over this achingly overwhelming curiosity.

"Tell me," Miles glowered once more, his voice dark and raspy. "I won't ask again."

"You're asking me to tell my arch nemesis who I am behind this mask. You do realize how insane you sound right?" Y/n snickered. But suddenly, she was stricken with an idea. She quickly looked around, making sure no one was around them in the abandoned part of Brooklyn.

For once, she wanted to indulge in her curiosities as Spiderwoman. She grinned at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you show me who you are, I'll show you who I am. Seems only fair right?"

"Fine," Miles grunted, uncurling his fists. He was a bit surprised at how easy it was for him to agree, despite knowing full well he shouldn't show who he was much less to the person who's been hunting him down for months.

"Show me first. Then I'll let you know who I am." His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he meets her stare. "After all, it is only fair ma."

Y/n laughed, nodding in agreement. "Fine, if we're playing fair, then we should just do it together at the same time."

Prowler let out a harsh breath and nodded.

"On the count of three,” Y/n said, her finger gripping the edge of her mask.

"1..."

"2..."

"3...!"

As Y/n pulled out her mask, the Prowler does the same, his Prowler mask moving back to reveal himself as Miles Morales.

Y/n's hair fell down, her e/c eyes striking with excitement as she stared back into his. Her lips instantly curved into a smile as she sees an all-too-familiar face before her. "You're that student from school!"

Miles blinked. "What—" He stopped himself mid-sentence as it finally hits him. It's her. It's always been her.

His eyes flash with shock, pupils widening to the point where his eyes almost appeared black. The woman that he's been obsessing over, was Y/n. Y/n L/n.

Miles would see her often in class and everywhere else on campus. He has never spoken a word to her, but she slightly grabbed his attention because she was the complete opposite of him. That and because she was obnoxiously loud.

He simply knew her as that friendly, too-nice, pure girl. Definitely did not assume that she'd be Spider-Woman.

"You're that quiet dude from physics and math class!" Y/n gushed even further. "I wasn't expecting it to be you but, that makes so much sense with your mysterious aura and vibe, holy shit."

Y/n was internally screaming inside because she did notice Miles Morales from her school. She thought he was crazy attractive with the stoic and cold demeanor he had going on, especially those goddamn braids of his.

And now here she was, finding out that he was in fact, the Prowler whom she's been fighting for months on end.

"Y/n..." Miles breathed out. As he processed the woman before him, he started to think about how she was beautiful, far more than he could've ever imagined. He barely looks at her at school, but now he's finally got a good look.

Her smile sent unexpected fluttering to his heart and it was difficult for him to look away. He had to snap himself out of it. Y/n isn't just Y/n. She's Spider-Woman. Who knows of his identity.

Miles licked his lips forgetting all of that in a second. His eyes were still wild but now supported by a little glint. A spark perhaps. Somehow, seeing Y/n and realizing she's Spider-Woman made him feel weird. Good weird. But weird.

"Well, what do you think? Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Rate the experience from 1 to 10, be honest." Y/n smirked, her eyebrows raised and arms crossed over her Spider-Woman suit.

"You fucking weirdo,” Miles smirked.

"Would you look at that, the infamous Miles Morales actually knows how to smile,” Y/n replied, clearly amused.

She was definitely not screaming inside.

"What can I say ma?" He replied with a smirk, "You bring out the best in me." He found himself teasing her. How interesting.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Ha ha, I wasn't expecting the Prowler to be this cheesy either."

"I wasn't expecting Spider-Woman to be this beautiful either, so I guess we're both in quite a predicament,” Miles said with a slightly flirty tone. The situation was becoming less tense and more playful between them.

It was as if Miles had become a different person, being less like the ruthless villain Prowler, and more like himself as Miles Morales. It's a refreshing feeling to him.

"Well thank you, does that mean you've always noticed me from school?" Y/n smiled, placing her hands on her back, and swayed side to side like a child.

"I noticed you alright.” He chuckled. Miles was still in disbelief with himself since he never showed such emotion to anyone. Ever. But here he was laying himself out to this girl who he barely even knows.

"I thought about talking to you. Usually to tell you to shut up cause you're always so damn loud." He told her. "But then I got too much shit on my mind. You know what it's like as the Prowler."

Y/n simply nodded, "That's fair. I myself am pretty busy cause well... I am Spiderwoman, constantly thinking of how to save the city." She winked.

"You're busy as Spider-Woman," Miles repeated. "And I'm busy as the Prowler." He grinned at her. "We have that in common, don't we?"

"Except for the fact that we are destined to be enemies." Y/n grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "But you know, maybe we can be friends."

Her? Being friends with him? What is she even saying... as if he'd actually agree—

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "Friends huh? Maybe we should try it sometime." He grinned, but he stopped himself, almost as if what he said wasn't meant to be said at all. He cleared his throat, "Well, we aren't enemies right now, are we?"

Y/n contemplated for a while, "Hmm... Maybe enemies as Spider-Woman and the Prowler, but we can be friends as Y/n and Miles." She winked, holding out her hand for him to shake.

Without a second thought, Miles grabbed her hand and shook it firmly. "Deal." He replied with a smirk. "Friends." And he's serious about it too. All they both thought of at the moment was,

Damn, this is going to be one interesting pair.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfic #42!Miles Morales x reader #Miles G Morales #Earth 42!Miles #enemies to friends #Miles Morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales x y/n

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inairbinad · 1 year

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Lover's Lick

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson, 2.4k words, also on ao3

Just a silly little first kiss idea that fell into my head because I accidentally typed Lover’s Lick instead of Lover’s Lake.

It was a blistering day in Hawkins. As a twisted way to enjoy it, the whole party decided to spend the day at Lover's Lake to continue celebrating what they’d dubbed “Dead Vecna Summer.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he was enjoying himself, yet, but Robin was determined to make sure everyone did.

“It’s called exposure therapy,” Robin explained as she lazily dragged her toes through the water from her seat on the dock. “If we all come here and have a good time, the positive association will start to make the bad shit less scary.”

“That doesn’t sound like a thing,” Mike countered, and Nancy leaned down and flicked a handful of water at him. She and Robin were near inseparable now, physically sitting shoulder to shoulder as they soaked up the sun, but also to the point where Nancy steadfastly defended everything Robin said.

“It’s a thing, Wheeler,” Eddie drawled from his own beach towel. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a thing or not, but Robin tended to know her shit, so he was going along with her plan for now. Eddie had no interest in actually getting in the water, but the shady little patch of grass he’d managed to lounge in was pleasant enough. “I just don’t know if it’s working.”

Admittedly, the whole experience was made more pleasant by the fact that no one else but their little group was around, staring them down or making accusations with their eyes. No one really wanted to spend much time at Lover's Lakep anymore, considering it had so recently been a crime scene. The quarry and the copious other lakes around Hawkins seemed delightful by comparison; but maybe that was just because no one else had Robin.

So far, only Dustin, El, and Will had been brave enough to venture into the water. They were off the shore a ways, splashing each other and giggling ferociously. The glee on their faces was helping to tamp down the lingering sense of dread that Eddie couldn’t quite shake, despite his best efforts.

Steve was also eyeing them warily, either watching like a hawk to make sure nothing weird went tickling at their ankles, or because he was fighting himself on whether he wanted to venture in after them.

Eddie suspected it was a little bit of both.

“Fuck it,” Steve muttered to himself, before stripping his shirt off and wading into the lake. Eddie watched him go from behind the safety of his sunglasses, doing his best not to let his jaw go slack in the presence of a half dressed, sun kissed, and about to be wet Steve Harrington.

Once Eddie finally tore his eyes away, he noticed Robin also looking after Steve—but her expression was a worried one.

“Maybe we should play a game,” Eddie suggested with a slow grin. “For positivity, and whatnot.”

“Oooh, how about truth or dare?” Max recommended in a heartbeat, like she’d been waiting for an opportunity to present itself for her to suggest it. It instantly made Eddie wary of her intentions, but he shrugged and went along. If it made Max happy to wrangle some embarrassment out of her friends, she deserved as much. Plus, truth or dare never scared Eddie much, since he could always come up with something freakier to challenge people with than anyone ever dared him to do. And truths weren’t tricky at all, because he had a knack for making bullshit sound like the truth on the spot.

They didn’t come around on his turn for a while, yet, so he let his gaze drift back across the strikingly serene water until it landed back on Steve. He started off indulging the kids in letting them dunk his head under water, but now he seemed to have found some semblance of peace, floating on his back with his eyes on the sky.

“Earth to Munson,” Lucas called out, cupping his hands around his mouth and deepening his voice for the intended bullhorn effect. “It’s your turn, so you can stop ogling Steve, now.”

“I don’t ogle, Sinclair,” Eddie said, pulling his best unaffected act. All the same, he dragged his eyes back to his immediate surroundings. “That’s much more your speed.”

Lucas nervously glanced at Max, knowing exactly what Eddie was implying. Max seemed to know as well, because she came to Lucas’s defense in a snap. Eddie would’ve thought it was sweet, if he hadn’t just aimed the Max Cannon of Shit-Talking squarely in his direction.

“You’re the one who looks like you want to lick Steve’s face half the time,” she said with a knowing smirk. Everyone else burst into laughter, and Eddie had no choice but to eat the shame of being completely obvious, to the point where even all the gremlins knew he had an enormous crush on Steve.

“Only half the time?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle snorted. When even the two of them were helping to gang up on Eddie, he lost any hope of someone backing him up instead of roasting him further. He sighed in resignation.

Not long after all the Upside Down drama had concluded, Eddie and Robin had both teamed up and decided to come out to the whole group together. It was partly because Robin was sick of having to deny the allegations that she was in love with Steve, and partly because they both agreed it would let the group adjust so that there would be as little friction as possible when Will decided to follow suit. It turned out none of them really needed the extra education in love and acceptance and all that, though. The kids barely blinked an eye, and instead just shifted the allegations about being in love with Steve off of Robin and right onto Eddie.

“Oh my god,” Lucas squealed, completely overcome with excitement for some reason. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Eddie as he said, “That’s your dare!”

“I didn’t even pick—” Eddie tried, but everyone was already turning to look at him with matching evil smiles.

“Lick his face,” Max sat back, folding her arms against her chest in satisfaction.

“That’s not my dare,” Eddie muttered, already knowing his fate was sealed. He had to lick Steve’s face, or suffer some unknowable torture for time eternal for being a chickenshit.

“Lick his face,” everyone chorused, mercifully at a whisper so Steve wouldn’t hear. That didn’t make it any less mortifying.

“I swear to Christ—” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to ignore them. He thought maybe he could withstand the torture option, instead.

“Lick his face,” they all repeated, chanting like they only worshiped at the alter of humiliating Eddie in the most creative ways possible.

“You’re a bunch of heathens,” Eddie whined.

“Lick his face!” They repeated, insistent and already getting louder.

Eddie stared at Max in a silent plea, knowing she was the one who could most easily get everyone to lay off of him. This was her rodeo, and they both knew it. Max only stared back at him, unwavering. Eddie wondered if this was why she wanted to play truth or dare in the first place.

“Fucking,” Eddie grumbled, pulling himself up off his towel and whipping his own shirt and sunglasses off. Then he stood there, clad in nothing but his Garfield swim trunks, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He’d done worse than this, surely. It would be mortifying, but he’d get over it. Steve had a good enough sense of humor that Eddie didn’t think he’d be pissed, at least. “Fine.”

Then he stomped off into the lake and started swimming out to Steve to a round of raucous cheers at his back.

The calamitous thing he was about to go do was enough to distract Eddie from the fact that he was swimming in this lake for the first time since the spring, and he wasn’t being dragged down to its depths, or watching something mind-bendingly terrifying, or being chased for his life as he did. An entirely different kind of doom was spelled out for him, sure, but at least Eddie was swimming towards someone as his fate unfurled before him.

Steve really did look beautiful, sprawled out on his back, droplets of water glistening on his skin in the sun. Eddie intentionally caused a lot of fuss as he swam, making waves and noise as he went, so as not to startle Steve out of his peaceful reverie too severely.

Steve was already treading water, swimming upright again, by the time Eddie reached him.

“Hey,” he said, soft and trusting even though he probably shouldn’t have been.

“Hey,” Eddie echoed him, feeling the weight of fourteen sadistic eyes on his back. Once more, he was incredibly glad that no one else but their little group of friends was around to witness this. Eddie laughed, a desperate and delirious little sound that perfectly encapsulated how little he believed he was about to give in to peer pressure like all the preppy conformists he always made fun of.

“I’m sorry in advance,” Eddie said, and Steve tilted his head in confusion.

“Huh—”

Eddie reached up and grabbed Steve’s chin, watching as the lake water pebbled across the planes of Steve’s face, and gently tipped it towards the side. Then he licked a stripe up Steve’s cheek, quick but thorough, just enough to savor the feel of Steve’s skin on his tongue for even a moment.

Just as quickly as it’d begun, it was over, and Eddie turned around to face his jury, still idly judging from the dock. They broke out into another round of cheers and applause, so Eddie couldn’t help but thrust his arms up in triumph and give them a little show.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, then, and had to kick his feet quicker so he didn’t start sinking at the sensation of being spun around. Eddie braced himself, for a split second thinking he was gonna get punched.

The next thing he felt was, in fact, a hand on his face, but it was as gentle of a touch as he could ever remember feeling. Eddie peeked one eye open, only to find Steve looking back at him, a small smile playing at his lips. Steve rubbed his thumb across Eddie’s cheek bone, then very deliberately dropped his eyes to Eddie’s lips.

“What are you doing, Stevie?” Eddie asked, wondering if he was dreaming all of a sudden.

“What was Robin rambling about earlier?” Steve murmured, the low rumble of humor in his chest. “Positive associations?”

Eddie just nodded dumbly at him, entirely unsure if that was what Robin had said at all.

“Well, here’s mine,” Steve said simply, then leaned in and kissed him.

Even though the world had seemingly thudded to a stop, Eddie felt the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, firm and soft all at once, leaving him all tingly in an instant. Eddie didn’t know how, or why, but Steve was kissing him like he meant it—like he’d been ruminating on his desire to slot his lips between Eddie’s it for as long Eddie had been fantasizing about the same.

The realization was a heady one, and Eddie heard a surprised little whimper escape his throat. Steve hummed happily in response, then slid the hand on Eddie’s cheek into his hair, getting a better grip so he could maneuver the angle of Eddie’s face to his liking.

Eddie thought he’d let Steve position him however the fuck he wanted as long as he kept kissing him. He grabbed on to Steve’s shoulders on instinct, dragging him in closer, with the water allowing Steve to flow into Eddie's arms with ease until their chests were pressed together. Steve gently nipped at Eddie’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Eddie rode that wave to bold new heights, daring to drag his tongue along the curve of Steve’s, perfect, delectable mouth. Steve's grip on Eddie's hair tightened, then he opened up and rolled his tongue against Eddie's own.

Eddie thought Lover’s Lake might actually be the best place on Earth.

It occurred to Eddie that he might sink and drown and die in that moment, since he completely forgot how to tread water when the only thing he could focus on was Steve’s mouth on his own, Steve’s hand in his hair, Steve kissing him so thoroughly that it was worth it if this was where he died after all. But Steve secured an arm around Eddie’s waist, holding them both aloft in the water, letting the sunshine dance across their shoulders and set their kisses surging with even more heat than their hold on each other could generate on its own.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie heard the distant roar of hooting and hollering coming at them from the dock and their friends nearby in the water, but he couldn’t do anything but stare at Steve, dumbstruck and with the taste of Steve's cherry lip balm still on his tongue.

“Was that okay?” Steve asked, looking worried now.

Eddie thought the best way to chase that concern right off Steve’s pretty face was to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Oh my god, get a room,” Dustin hollered at them after a moment, and Eddie relished the feel of Steve’s smile against his own. Eddie pulled back just enough to tilt his head in silent communication, doing his best not to get too distracted by how Steve’s lips were still swollen thanks to him.

“Definitely,” Steve nodded in agreement, and two of them took off after Dustin in perfect sync. By the time Dustin realized what he was in for, it was too late. He paddled away like a mad man, screeching and giggling all the way, but Steve was too fast. He gained on Dustin quickly, getting his arms around him just as Eddie caught up.

Together, they each smacked a sloppy kiss to one of Dustin’s cheeks, then dunked him underwater together. Dustin did his best to look affronted when he resurfaced, but his grin was unmistakable.

“It’s about time,” he muttered, then splashed Steve and Eddie both and quickly paddled away again. El and Will joined in the chase this time, and Eddie heard several splashes from the dock behind him as reinforcements came to unite in a game of ganging up on Henderson.

None of them ever really panicked about taking a dip in Lover's Lake after that.

#steddie #dani's drafts #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #stranger things #fanfic

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Note

this random thought popped into my head and now I cannot control the brain rot. Thinking about !streamer y/n and !mod bakugo!! streamer y/n who ‘accidentally’ flashes when she sees !mod bakugo enter chat. streamer y/n who feels a rush when they see bakugo block weirdos in chat. Streamer y/n who pretends they don’t have a favourite mod or fan but let’s mod bakugo get away with everything! Like the hold he would have over you 🥹🥹 I love him!

- 🎀

Omg I love this idea so much!!

Mod Bakugou would stop any guys from treating you like shit or talking down to you because you’re a girl, especially if you’ve got a cutesy aesthetic.

Since joining the server you’ve managed to play with him before so he knows how good you are, and if anyone tries to talk shit he’s like “She could end you in one shot, shut your mouth or get muted.” Like he’s not here for their shit.

You secretly light up whenever you see he’s online because he’s always looking out for you, so you make sure to ping him in main chat to say hey, and he rarely responds if it’s busy but you’ll notice the little explosion reaction that he uses beneath your message to indicate he’s seen it.

His friends always tease him because he’s got the biggest crush on you, even though he’s never actually seen your face. But Sero is constantly talking about the soft spot he has for you whenever he’s doing his mod duties.

He’ll never admit it to anyone, but he searches your name in the server to see if anyone’s been talking about you and equally to see what you’ve been talking about whenever he’s not online.

Bakugou always messages you first whenever he needs a partner to game, or someone extra for the team because he just knows he plays so well with you and that he usually wins when you’re on his team.

He’s already in love with your voice, in game you’re so cute whenever you almost get shot or die— the little squeal you make when it happens he wants to record and keep it forever. And he’s been in a voice chat with you and even though he was on mute the entire time he could listen to you talk for hours. And you’re adorable whenever you say his name when you notice he’s joined.

One day you’re brave enough to stream with your face, and you call it your big face reveal and Bakugou could die. You’re the prettiest person he’s ever laid his eyes on, no exaggeration. And now you’re more confident you start posting outfit pics or face reveals in the server. Where there are a tonne of comments on how pretty you are and how good you look, and how people want to date you so bad— but you’re always looking out for a little emoji reaction beneath your pics from Bakugou🥺

And then it’s time for you to make your own server because you’ve got enough subs, and you’re nervous to do it but Bakugou is already in your dms encouraging you to go for it. And he agrees to be one of your mods😭 so you do!!

And it takes off SO fast. A thousand new members in just a few days, and your poor mods work so hard to make it a great place— but of course Bakugou is your favourite.

Anyone that says anything lewd or inappropriate about you are muted or kicked in seconds. Usually with a comment below it like “fucking imbecile” “dumbass” or something like that. He’s also always the mod you’re gushing about the most, and your fans/followers are now starting to tease that you might have a crush on mod Bakugou. And he wouldn’t ever admit it, but he reads those messages with the dorkiest smile on his face.

So normally you tell your mods to be nice to fans and give them the benefit of the doubt, but Bakugou can roast anyone he likes and he always gets away with it. Occasionally you’ll ping him with a cute “Bakugou don’t be mean!!” and he pretends that doesn’t give him a hard-on. It only makes him wanna be meaner.

And one day you’re getting ready for a follower celebration stream, listening to music and doing your make up in the private mod only chat and Bakugou joins. Just as you’re sitting there in a towel from your shower as you fix your makeup, and you turn to face the screen to see who joined and you’re so surprised it’s him. Excitement gets the best of you and you reach up to wave, but your towel loosens and slips and he gets the quickest EVER flash of your tits and now he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. You’re apologizing profusely and hiding your camera and he’s telling you it’s fine and don’t panic he didn’t see anything (he totally did) and now he’s going to have to spend the rest of your stream with his cock throbbing between his thighs.

You know whenever it’s Bakugou deleting a message during your stream too, because he’s so quick. He’s there telling people to stop being assholes or lose their privileges and people are even commenting on how lucky you are to have such a great mod. Even though he’s terrifying😂😭

After your stream you’re in his dms to apologise again, and he just keeps telling you that it’s okay and that you did such a good job and how proud he is of you🥺

And you keep trying to get him to collab with you on a stream because he’s got his own channel, but he never posts his face on it and as much as he’d love to collab with you the thought makes him SO nervous.

YOU ALWAYS ALMOST DIE when he enters chat, because you get so distracted🥺😭

He’s the only mod that has your actual phone number and you text outside the channel and server. He’s always sending you pics of his day, and you’re always sending him outfit pics.

And the server see you both together in private voice chats ALL the time so your fans/followers start jokingly shipping you together🥺 and someone draws fanart of you but it’s just you and a guy wearing a black hoodie pulled up over his head because no one in the server really knows what Bakugou looks like besides one “face reveal” he did where it was just a webcam of him in super low light wearing a black hoodie.

But you freak out over it because it’s adorable😭 and everyone is pinging Bakugou to get him to comment.

#streamer Bakugou #gamer Bakugou #soft bakugou #I could write about him FOREVER #gamer Bakugou my beloved #🎀 anon

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tiny-maus-boots · 5 months

Text

Darkest of Nights pt 21

A/N: thank you thank you always to @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing and @kimmania for listening to endless hcs.

Beca

“Are you sure you wish to do this, Little Necromancer?”

Beca looked up at Chloe's dad and flapped her hands under her arm pits in an attempt to dry the copious moisture gathering as they waited for Cahira to let them know the rest of the vampires had arrived. At least. The ones brave enough to accept Beca's invitation to speak.

“What? Face a few hundred vampires that would probably like nothing more than to burn me at the stake?”

He gave a rumble of a grunt and stroked his braided beard thoughtfully. She could tell he wasn't as afraid of her anymore which was a plus. Probably. Maybe.

“Yes.”

Beca shrugged and finally settled for a meandering anxious pace around the room. She really wished Chloe and Aubrey were there with her now but they had gone to check on defenses. She was pretty sure that was an intentional move to give her time alone with Chloe's parents. At least for the moment.

How could she face hundreds of vampires if she couldn't handle facing just this one? Granted it might be easier if she hadn’t just banged his daughter like a Salvation Army drum.

Okay who was she kidding? She was definitely the drum. This time. Next time she had serious plans to be the one doing the banging. Lots and lots of banging.

Heat rose to her cheeks at Einar's intent gaze and she suddenly wondered if mind reading was a vampiric gift. If so she was screwed.

“I'm sure.”

“May I ask why, Little Necromancer?”

She had to smile at that. There could be worse nicknames.

“Because, Big Guy, I took something from them and I should explain myself.”

“You mean apologize.”

Beca thought about that. There was expectation in his tone and nearly imperceptible shift of his attention that was meant to intimidate. The weight of his age and power flexed around her, making her bones ache. It was impressive and would have worked maybe a month ago.

But she had seen some shit since then. She had done some shit since then. And she knew who she was now. Love hummed through her bond and she stopped her pacing and faced him directly, unafraid. She didn't bother to call up her power to push back, it wasn't necessary. Her conviction that she had done the right thing was enough to straighten her spine.

“I did what I did to save Aubrey. I'm not going to apologize for that. If they don't like it, tough tits. All I can do is explain how dire it was and hope they'll respect that.”

“Respect or fear?”

It was a valid question and she gave herself a moment to honestly answer without her usual sarcasm.

“If I wanted them to fear me I wouldn't bother to explain why I had to do what I did. I didn't want to hurt anyone but to protect or save Aubrey and Chloe I will be ruthless if I have to.”

Einar's power receded in a slow pull and she felt her spine release tension it had been holding. The door opened and Cahira stepped in with a brow raised in question.

“Husband?”

“There is no lie in her words. The Necromancer speaks truly. She meant only to save the Queen.”

“And?”

Beca looked back and forth between them in confusion. She wasn't entirely certain what was happening but Einar let out a great sigh and slumped his shoulders in resignation.

“I'm sorry I doubted you, Wife, moon of my heart, she who is beauty, grace and wisdom. I am a turd.”

Cahira's lips curled into a satisfied grin and she held out an impatient hand until Einar fished a bronze coin out of his pocket and slapped it into her hand.

“Thank you, Husband.” Cahira tugged gently on Einar's beard until he bowed his tall frame to meet her lips in a soft kiss. She released him and faced Beca. “Do close your mouth dear, they'll think you're damaged.”

Beca's mouth snapped closed with a click and she blinked several times trying to process what she had witnessed.

“Okay wait. What's happening right now?”

“Oh this?” She held up the coin and laughed. “Einar and I have been winning this back from each other for a thousand years. A game of ours.”

“And you make him say that every time??”

“You should hear what I have to say when he wins.”

Her laugh was musical and light and Beca was pretty sure Chloe’s dad had just fallen in love with her all over again if his expression was any indication. She could see where Chloe got it from.

These were not the vampires she understood. These were real people that loved and laughed. They weren't monsters. And neither were any of the people she needed to address. They were just people. Powerful people with the abilty to do alarming and fucked up things. But still capable of being so much more than the things that go bump in the night.

“Wow. Okay. So are the vamps all here?”

“They are. Are you ready to address them?”

“I guess. I mean. Yeah. Yes. Yes I'm ready.”

“Come, Beca. Einar and I will be by your side. Chloe and the Queen will be back shortly. Unless you would prefer to wait?”

She wanted to wait. If only for the support she knew she would have. Beca took a deep breath and shook her head. No. She needed to do this herself. Besides who was going to give her lip with the Big Guy looming over her shoulder?

“Let's do this.”

Something glittered in Cahira's eyes. Something like…pride? Beca wasn't sure but she felt like she was doing the right thing. Einar opened the door in the far wall and gestured for her to go first. If she expected a hallway or a buffer between herself and the other vampires she was disappointed.

Beca found herself on a raised platform with more vampires than she had expected staring up at her. Some with curiosity, some with hostility, most with barely concealed fear.

“Oh boy.”

She looked back at Chloe's parents nervously then back to the waiting mass. She brought one hand up in a tentative wave and seriously reconsidered her choices the last five minutes.

“Hey. So, I'm Beca.”

There was nothing. Absolute dead silence. They stared at her and she stared at them. Neither one was sure who was the predator and who was the prey. She sighed heavily and the vampires closest to the platform eased back.

“Okay this…this isn't going to work.” She walked to the edge of the platform and dropped the few feet to be on their level. “Look, guys, you don't have to be afraid of me. I don't want to hurt anyone here.”

Some skittered back. A few held their ground. One pushed forward with mistrust blazing in her almond shaped eyes. Beca held her ground and waited for the unmistakable swirl of power to crest over her as Einar's had done but it never came. Or rather, it wasn't as expected.

Power lapped up at her, batting gently like a gentle wave. The trailing edge of it tried to stick and cling to her, trying to find a way to overwhelm and influence her but it was too weak and crumbled away like sand with just the slightest push back from her.

Beca frowned when the woman backed up several paces in fear. A few of the nearest vampires that had stood their ground shifted away. She was getting nowhere and fast.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

Repeating it wasn’t likely to change their minds and she realized it.

“You have already done so, Necromancer.”

She looked for the voice in the crowd that had spoken. Bodies parted to allow a vampire in a heavy cloak to limp forward in an awkward shuffle. He was ancient. Maybe even older than Aubrey but there was something wrong with him.

Her head tipped to the side and she reached up to push the hood of the cloak down. Wisps of brittle white hair fell from an already nearly bald pate. Pale waxy skin stretched translucently over high planed cheekbones and a strong jaw. If she had thought the vampires were scared of her, they were absolutely terrified of this one.

Whispers of verskret hissed through the crowd as they backed even further away. She knew that word. Cursed.

“Who are you?”

“You may call me Athan. Do you deny what you have done, Necromancer?”

Beca was fascinated by the power she could feel seeping from him without even conscious effort. But none of it was directed at her.

“No. I did that. I took from all of you and I would do it again if I had to. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone but because the need was seriously fucking desperate.”

“And what could you have so desperately needed with all of us?”

“To heal me. And believe me it was out of desperate need. True death was upon me, I was past the point of healing myself.”

Beca had been so drawn by the vampire in front of her she hadn’t even noticed Aubrey and Chloe’s appearance. A cool hand closed lightly around her wrist and graceful fingers twined loosely with her own.

Chloe's simple touch grounded her and she shook away the thrall of power. Athan's gaze sharpened on her but he didn't push his power. He simply stood there assessing her. His soft hazel eyes drifted away from Beca and over to Aubrey.

“And what could have brought one such as yourself to the brink of death, My Queen?”

Chloe stepped forward, her hand still clasped with Beca's. “The sun, Athan. After full submersion and fresh blood she was still burning from the inside out.”

There were hushed whispers and soft hisses of remembered pain at Chloe's description. The sun was a foe every vampire feared more than anything else. Even curses and necromancers. Athan turned back to look at Beca again, more speculative than before.

“Why would you do that?”

“A lot of reasons. I think Aubrey is necessary in breaking the Council. I think she is honorable and genuinely hates the system of abuse we all suffer under and can make it better. But mostly just because I love her.”

Beca turned her attention to Aubrey and held out her free hand which the blonde took without hesitation. Power pulsed through the room in time with her heart beat and Athan brought a withered hand to his chest with a staggered step forward.

Her power curled around him and caressed his aura making Athan gasp drop to his knees. He looked up at her and reached a trembling hand to her and then pulled it back fearfully and pulled up his hood to hide away from her.

“If what you say is true, and I now believe that it is, then I understand. So should we all.”

He started to ease back into the crowd and Beca felt compelled to stop him. Her magic stretched out to him again wanting to explore and understand his condition.

“Wait! Please don't go.”

The aged vampire turned his head but she couldn’t see his face in the depths of the hood.

“If you think to break this curse, you cannot. Many have tried, all have failed.”

He turned away and slipped through the ranks and this time Beca let him. Now wasn't the time for that but she made a mental note to talk to Chloe and Aubrey about it later.

Vampires stared at her and she stared back. There wasn't much more she could say. It was up to them now, but she suspected Athan's opinion would go a long way in her favor.

“So…we good?”

There wasn't a resounding cheer of support but she didn't expect there to be. It was enough that many of them nodded agreement. Beca let out a deep sigh of relief and looked gratefully back at Chloe when arms slipped around her waist.

“Tough crowd.”

“Hm.”

“This isn't settled yet is it?”

The vampire gave a slight shake of her head, sending soft red curls tumbling over her shoulder.

“No but we don't have time to coddle them. If we survive what's coming we can try again. For now, leave them to Aubrey and come with me.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“To make out, silly.”

Now that was a plan she could get behind. Beca gave their blonde a glance and found her already addressing questions from some of the vampires assembled. Aubrey turned her head and caught her gaze with a quick wink.

“You sure we shouldn't stay and help?”

“Nah, she'll meet us at the garage in a few. Right now I wanna be on you.”

“Well I do hate to disappoint the ladies so I'm in. Let's go.”

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #aubrey posen #pitch perfect au #pitch perfect #triple treble #vampires #necromancer #maus writes

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callsignthirsty · 2 years

Note

OMG THIRSTY YOUR SUGGESTION BOX IS OPEN UMMM, first of all hi I love you, second I was thinking maybe a maverick x femPILOTreader can (her call sign be avalanche?) were they are a thing that only goose and carol know about, but not really just “casual sex” in mavs words, then ice starts flirting HARD with the reader and mav gets jealous and makes a big scene and they end up breaking up over it (cause maverick is too hard headed) and he regrets it forever but says nothing (that man won’t swallow his pride) and maybe a time skip to top gun maverick? Where he and the reader are called back together to train the team (is this too much?), I think it’d be cute to see mav fall in love all over again (not really cause he never forgot her) with her and be together in the end. Bonus points if she is like an aunt to rooster cause she was also good friends with the Bradshaws. I don’t know if it’s something you’d like to write or if it’s really not up your alley. Sorry if it’s a mess not good at explaining my self, anyway I hope you have a lovely day ❤️❤️❤️

Hey there @i-wear-wet-socks313 — Thanks for sending in your suggestion. There was a lot to unpack with this one, so I hope you don’t mind that I shortened it a little bit by breezing over the events of the first movie. That said: it’s still fixing to be about 10k by the time I get around to publishing part 2 (yeah, that’s right, I had to break it into two parts!) But what can I say? Your suggestion definitely smacked me upside the head (and I liked it)! Be on the lookout for part two in the coming week or two ❤️

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x F!Pilot!Reader (call sign: Avalanche) Word Count: 7500 Warnings: Canon character death (x2), language, a general glossing over of movie events, the author knowing nothing about the Navy or aviation smut coming in part 2 Minors DNI

Call Sign: Avalanche

You hadn't kept in touch with Iceman since graduating from Top Gun. Honestly, you hadn't kept in touch with any of your classmates — it had been easiest to cut all ties. Despite this, you'd have had to be exceptionally observant not to notice the Iceman's rise within the ranks. Not that you hadn't done well for yourself but you were no Commander of the Pacific Fleet. So when Admiral Kazansky put in the call to have you transferred to North Island for a special assignment, you were flattered. Really. You figured that Iceman's recommending you for the job spoke to his appreciation for your shared craft and his belief that you could train the squad to do what needed to be done.

The good feelings last until you learn who you'll be expected to teach alongside.

Maverick.

That's when you see this assignment for what it is: a cruel joke.

Like Iceman, you haven't seen Maverick since your joint graduation ceremony in '85. Unlike Iceman, you actively worked to avoid Maverick. Because it was just your luck that you'd have a history with the Navy's best pilot.

You'd dated for months, though neither of you was brave enough to put words to it. Carole was, though. Date. Relationship. Love. Any time she mentioned it, your cheeks would flame, Maverick would awkwardly look away, and Goose would pull her into a hug, kissing her until she giggled and the topic was changed.

Those were the days. And in a kinder world, things would've stayed like that forever. Instead, Iceman had unintentionally swooped in and blown your good thing to shit.

But even you could admit that it wasn't entirely Iceman's fault. As much as you liked Maverick, you knew that you had to keep your relationship under wraps. Though the Navy allowed women within their ranks, getting the opportunity to become one of the first female naval aviators was still a hard-won privilege and one that you didn't take lightly. The last thing you wanted was for someone to call you out for fraternization and jeopardize your job. And though you looked at Maverick as if he'd hung the moon just for you, you knew that few others within the Navy viewed his endeavors — and you knew they'd consider you, an endeavor — similarly.

But as hard as you'd tried in the beginning, you hadn't been able to stop Maverick from worming his way into your affections. And, it appeared, your efforts were similarly wasted on Iceman.

When you first met Ice, you'd suspected he was a dime-a-dozen. Tall and confident and by the rules. Until you saw him fly. You had an ego like the other pilots who made it to Top Gun, but you, at least, knew when you were beaten. And Iceman had all of you beat. Well, except for Maverick. That appreciation, however, must have been misconstrued. Somewhere along the line, Iceman had gotten it in his head that sliding into the seat next to you at the O Club and flagging the bartender down to grab you a drink was a good idea. You hadn't known he was interested until it was already too late.

You couldn't even remember the words that blew your world to pieces. Only knew that Maverick had his hand around your arm, your drink spilled all down the front of your khakis as he'd hissed and spit until he was red in the face. "You want to fuck Kazansky. Fine. I won't stand in your way."

"Pete."

"I'm done." And he'd gotten on his bike and driven away.

It had been the end of your relationship but the beginning of Maverick's downward spiral.

Goose died the next day.

Maverick turned in his wings.

Iceman won the Top Gun trophy.

Maverick was called away to the USS Enterprise right after the graduation ceremony.

You were long gone before he came back.

But here he is. Strolling into the briefing late, clad in his dad's jacket and old jeans. His brows draw down in confusion when his eyes land on you, his head tilting. Assessing.

At least he hadn't been expecting you, either. Neither of you had the advantage.

"Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell." Cyclone draws Maverick's attention to himself, sitting behind his desk. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Thank you, sir."

Cyclone's frown deepens. "Wasn't a compliment." It does little to humble the smile on Maverick's face, so Cyclone goes on to introduce himself, Warlock, and yourself, though, from the casual greeting they shoot each other, you gather that he and Warlock have met before.

With little delay, Warlock goes on to outline the mission. "The target is an unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant built in violation of a multilateral NATO treaty. The uranium produced there represents a direct threat to our allies in the region. The Pentagon has tasked us with assembling a strike team and taking it out before it becomes fully operational."

Warlock goes through his slides. The plant is in an underground bunker at the end of a GPS-jammed valley guarded by an extensive surface-to-air missile array and fifth-generation fighters. "Which, in turn," Warlock continues with another click to zoom in on an aerial view of the nearby airstrip, "are backed up by a plentiful reserve of surplus aircraft. Even a few F-14s."

"Seems like we're not the only ones holding onto old relics." You'd have taken Cyclone's words personally if they hadn't been meant as a blatant attack on Maverick. As it is, Maverick ducks his head as if the shot at him is expected.

"What's your read, Captain?" Warlock breaks the stalemate.

Maverick looks at you briefly before clearing his throat and approaching the projector. You follow along in your own hastily scribbled notes as Maverick talks through the possibilities. GPS-jamming means F-35s are a no-go. The low-level laser-guided strike is about as tailor-made for the F-18 as a mission can get. Two precision bombs. Four aircraft flying in pairs. High potential for g-loc on the way out and a dogfight all the way home. But it can be done. Supposedly.

"It's been a while since I've flown an F-18, and I'm not sure who I'd trust to fly the other three, but I'll find a way to make it work."

And then Cyclone hits you with the twist: "We don't want you to fly it. We want you to teach it."

Twelve Top Gun graduates have been recalled for the special detachment. Among them: Bradley. You can pinpoint the moment Maverick sees Bradley on the board, and you almost feel bad, but Maverick had brought this upon himself. You'd been there to pick Bradley up after Maverick pulled his papers to the Naval Academy. Had jumped in your car and floored it to the Bradshaw residence to hold the boy — now a young man — as he'd sobbed fat, angry tears.

That doesn't mean you don't wince when Cyclone sticks his fingers into the open wound that will evermore be Goose. "Tragic what happened." Even you want to smack the Vice Admiral for that.

But if Maverick has the plan and Maverick is expected to teach the graduates… "Admiral Simpson," you say, breaking your silence as you close your notepad, "I fail to see why I'm needed for this detachment if Captain Mitchell has the planning and training under control." Professional. To the point. "So if you don't need me…." You stand and make for the door. The sooner you can slip away, back to your life without Maverick, the better.

"Not so fast," Cyclone interrupts your exit and leans forward against his desk. "Let me be perfectly blunt. You–" you turn to find him pointing a stern finger at Maverick "–were not my first choice. In fact, you weren't even on the list. You are here because of Admiral Kazansky. Now, Iceman happens to be a man I deeply admire, and he seems to think that you have something left to offer the Navy. What that is, I can't imagine. And he has assured me that you–" Cyclone's steely green eyes lock on you "–can keep him in check."

Well, isn't that rich? "With all due respect, Cyclone, I'm an Admiral for the United States Navy, not a babysitter."

"Well, for the purposes of this mission, it would appear that you are both." He tosses a file onto his desk, and you glare at it. Not only does Cyclone outrank you, but the orders technically come from the Commander of the Pacific Fleet. You could say 'no' and walk away, but unless you're officially dismissed, it's a career-limiting — possibly career-ending — move. Ultimately, you walk back to the desk to pick up the file and stack it on your notepad.

Satisfied, Cyclone turns his attention back to Maverick. "You don't have to take this job, but let me be clear: this will be your last post, Captain. You fly for Top Gun, or you never fly for the Navy ever again."

That night, as you pour over the mission file, you wonder what Kazansky is up to. There's no way he put you, Maverick, and Bradley all in the same place over a mid-life power trip. But you can't figure out what he's out to accomplish for your life.

— — —

Warlock introduces you and Maverick to the twelve graduates. Well, eleven — you both know Bradley. Cyclone is beside himself when Maverick throws away the F-18 NATOPS and shoots you a look, but what does he expect you to do? Fish it out of the trash? This is Kazansky's circus. He can fish the NATOPS out of the trash.

Bradley catches up to you as everyone disperses to get changed into their g-suits for the day's hops. "Why the hell is he here?" he asks, voice low but venom clear in his tone.

"Iceman."

"Figures." Bradley's lips pull into a tight line. "So, what do we do?"

You sigh, exhausted, and the day has only begun. "What we do best, baby bird. Fly."

Frustratingly, Maverick's just as good as you remember him. Better, even. The fire of his youth still there but tempered marginally by time. And you hate to admit it, but you're rusty. No one told you when you joined the Navy that the higher you climbed the ladder, the further you'd get from the sky. You're shot down once by Hangman — which you're sure he'll brag about later at the bar — but Maverick is untouchable.

You're already on the ground when Bradley touches down to do his own pushups. Once your arms have turned to jelly, you let Hondo go with a promise to count the rest for Bradley.

"I told you to fly, not lose your shit," you say once Hondo has walked far enough away to give you the illusion of privacy. Bradley glares at you before returning to his pushups, sweat dripping off his nose and onto the tarmac. "When you let him get to you like that, you give him the edge."

"What does it matter?" Bradley says, taking a seat and looking up at you for the first time since he was thirteen. "He's going to wash me out."

"I won't let him."

Bradley shakes his head. "Don't."

"I won't."

"Well, you couldn't stop him last time." And that's not fair. You weren't the one who'd pulled Bradley's papers. You hadn't even known until the deed had been done. Until Bradley was asking if he could stay with you for a while, and you insisted on driving to him. The same night Maverick's name had become a dirty word to both of you.

You do your best to keep the hurt off of your face. Bradley isn't mad at you; he's stressed and lashing out. But on base, you're still his superior officer. "The four best pilots will be on the mission. Whether that includes you or not, Rooster, is up to you. But it won't if you keep flying like that." You leave when your phone buzzes with a message to meet at Cyclone's office in — you check the time — ten minutes.

— — —

It's cathartic, you decide, to watch someone else lose their shit on Maverick. Unfortunately for Cyclone, though, this is one of the rare times that Maverick's rule-breaking has a defensible reason behind it.

"The hard deck will be much lower for the mission, sir," Maverick responds at your side.

"And it will not change without my approval!" Cyclone snaps. "Especially not in the middle of an exercise. And that cobra maneuver of yours? That could've gotten all four of you killed. I never want to see that shit again." All you do is shrug when Cyclone's stare focuses on you. You aren't sure what Iceman told Cyclone to make him think you could make Maverick behave, but you're not sure what you're supposed to do when you haven't spoken to the man in nearly forty years.

And then they're off again: Cyclone and Maverick. Oil and water.

"You have less than three weeks to teach them how to fight as a team and how to strike the target," Cyclone says, and he looks like he's ready to wave a hand, dismiss you all for the day, and pour himself four fingers of whiskey.

"And how to come home." Your head snaps to Maverick. His lips are parted as if he wants to say something else, but the words must escape him because instead, he repeats: "And how to come home, sir."

You try to swallow, but your throat is dry like sandpaper. Eyes wide, you stare at Cyclone. Coming home had never been a part of the training plan. This — Maverick is the first person to mention bringing the team home. A pit settles in your stomach as the realization of what you've been assigned to hits.

A suicide mission.

You're sending six people into enemy territory to die. Less, if you're lucky, but not everyone is coming home.

Cyclone chooses his next words carefully — "Every mission has its risks." — but they do nothing to settle you. Your blood is on fire, and you're simultaneously hot and cold, an icy sweat breaking out across your temples. "These pilots accept that."

"I don't, sir." Maverick's statement settles around you like a well-worn quilt. You shiver, despite yourself as a part of you that you'd believe to be long-dead flickers back to life. Because at that moment, in those words, you know that Maverick will do everything in his power to ensure everyone comes home. It feels like hope. Like trust. Clumsy fingers pull the feeling tighter around you.

"Every morning," Cyclone breaks the silence, "you will brief us on your instructional plans in writing. And nothing will change without my express approval."

"Including the hard deck, sir?" You're running through a plan to get all the paperwork together to lower the hard deck as soon as the question is past Maverick's lips because, much to your chagrin, Maverick is correct, and you should all be flying much lower to properly prepare.

"Especially the hard deck, Captain."

Without skipping a beat, Maverick hands a manila file over the desk to Cyclone. "Sir." And it appears that years of getting on Admirals' bad sides have prepared Maverick for this exact moment. You have to fight the twitch threatening to bring your lips up at the thought that Maverick knew he was going to break the hard deck and had come prepared with the paperwork already filled out.

When you regroup the next day, the hard deck sits much lower.

In two-plane teams, the graduates take turns flying the simulated course on their nav systems. And because you're going easy on them, they have both extra time and a higher ceiling than they'll have when they fly the actual mission. Even with these allowances, no one can make it to the end of the course. Except for Bradley, but he'd flown too slow despite Yale's insistence that they would be late.

As Maverick and Rooster argue over whether or not running the course in four minutes would be a death sentence, you can see the graduates' faces drop as they come to the same conclusion you'd come to in Cyclone's office: that this mission might not be doable.

"That's no time to be thinking about the past," Hangman says as if he couldn't stand that Bradley's ire had been aimed at anyone else.

Bradley's head whips to Hangman. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Something about this screams danger, but Maverick is frozen to the spot. "Rooster," you say, hoping you can get in front of this; calm Bradley before Hangman can dig his nails in and give him a shake.

Hangman leans back against his seat, a smile curling his lips. "I can't be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man."

"That's enough." Maverick finally snaps out of whatever had held him silent before, but Hangman is undeterred.

"Or that Maverick was flying when his old man–"

"Lieutenant," you bark, "that's enough!" But it's too little too late. The fuse must have been lit before you and Maverick had been on the scene because Bradley is suddenly out of his seat, other graduates clamoring to their feet to grab him or push Hangman out of his reach.

Maverick throws himself into the middle, ordering each man to stand down while Bradley snarls, "You son of a bitch!"

When you get a hand on Hangman's shoulder, he shoots you a self-assured smile. "He's not cut out for this mission."

You shove him away from Bradley. "Walk."

Hangman's pale eyes land on Rooster. "You know it."

"I said walk, Lieutenant." You give Hangman another shove for good measure, and his feet finally begin to carry him away from the situation, but not before his eyes lock on Maverick's over his shoulder.

"You know I'm right."

Back in the hangar, Maverick dismisses the class. You march Hangman to an empty classroom to reprimand his piss-poor behavior. Hangman nods in all the right places, but you doubt any of your scoldings get through to him.

— — —

Getting all the graduates on the same page calls for a new strategy. They can fly the course on their navs until they're blue in the face, but it won't bring them closer together. Won't keep Hangman from leaving his wingman out to dry or light a fire under Bradley's ass. With a few ideas in mind, you arrive at the hangar early, hoping you can snag Warlock and go over some of your ideas before seeking approval from Cyclone.

Instead, you find Maverick.

"You're a bit early," you say as you take a seat atop one of the desks in the back row. And underdressed. It seems that he hasn't updated his wardrobe since the '80s. Instead of khakis, Maverick must have walked onto base today in his jeans and an old, white t-shirt.

Maverick jumps a little bit, then erases an errant mark on the whiteboard with the hem of his shirt and returns to what he was writing. "Yeah," he agrees. "Wanted to get here before everyone else."

Clearly. "And what's that?" you ask, gesturing at the board.

"Oh." Maverick stands back and taps at the board. "New plan for the day. I'd have talked with you about it, but…." He doesn't have your number.

Class on the beach.

Meet at The Hard Deck.

Wear civvies.

"What's at the beach?"

"Dogfight football," he says as if that explains everything.

You cross your arms. "This isn't volleyball all over again, is it?"

"No." Maverick shakes his head with a fond smile crinkling his eyes. “No, this is teambuilding.”

"Ah," you play along and nod as if that clears everything up. "I think that's exactly what Viper called it when he sent us to the volleyball court." More like when Jester had chucked the volleyball at Maverick's head, and Viper ordered he and Iceman get their posturing bullshit over with. They hadn't, of course, but it had been worth a try.

"He did, didn't he?" Before he can start fiddling with the whiteboard marker, Maverick caps it and sets it down. You wonder if he's thinking about it, too. The long summer days. How the sun beat down on all of you until your shoulders were red. Goose. "Let's hope this goes better, then."

When you arrive at the beach, Hondo's already there with two nerf footballs in his hands and a referee whistle around his neck. Maverick's bike is in the parking lot, but you don't see him when you scan the beach.

"Avalanche."

"Hondo."

"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?" Hondo shifts his weight from one foot to the other in the sand. Maybe Maverick had told him about your history, maybe he hadn't, but the two seem close enough. Whatever he does or doesn't know, Hondo doesn't let it come between your professional relationship.

"Just trying to figure out what dogfight football is."

The idea is all Maverick's, but the concept is pretty simple. Offense and defense at the same time. Score by running your ball into the opposing team's endzone before they run their ball into yours. Stop the other team from advancing by grounding their ball.

As Hondo gets into the hastily made-up rules, Maverick comes down from the bar, jeans rolled up to just below his knees and dragging a cooler behind himself. "You made it," he greets you, his movie star smile warm like the sun as the sea breeze tousles his hair.

"What's in the box?" you ask, hiding behind the question and your aviators. Instead of answering, Maverick opens the lid to reveal a multitude of cans. "Beer? On the job?"

"There's water in there, too," Maverick says, digging through the ice until he uncovers a water bottle and hands it to you. You drop the bottle back into the ice with a crunch. "The class on their way?" he asks as he closes the cooler.

"I'm not sure." So you fish your phone out of your pocket and send Bradley a quick text to make sure he's on his way with the others. Truthfully, you hadn't stuck around long enough to be sure. Had simply added your own note below Maverick's before leaving yourself.

Erase after reading.

The class shows up, and shirts come off. You fight to keep your eyes on Hondo as he separates you into teams. For someone pushing sixty, Maverick looks good. Trim waist, toned arms–

"Avalanche." Your attention snaps to Hondo as he motions you to the left. "Orange team."

After a quick huddle, both teams line up. Maverick and Bradley against you and Hangman. You don't have enough time to overthink it when Hondo blows the whistle, and you all take off at the snap.

By the time you stumble to the cooler for some water, you've lost track of the score. Hondo might know, but you doubt it. Laughter rang out from the group as Phoenix brought Fanboy down to the sand. Count on Maverick to succeed where others have failed.

"Looks like your plan worked," you call out as Maverick makes his way over to you, jeans wet and sandy from all the times he'd been knocked into the surf, aviators crooked on his face. You get off the cooler to grab him a water bottle as he sits in the nearby chair and pulls his shirt back on. When you turn around, he's beaming.

"Get him!" Halo screams, and you and Maverick look to where Hondo has intercepted a pass. He looks between the ball and WSO as if he's surprised before he runs, but he doesn't get far before — regardless of which team they're on — the aviators jump on him like a bunch of puppies. Screaming and laughing and wiggling as they bring Hondo to the sand. A laugh escapes you, and suddenly you and Maverick are laughing together. It feels good to laugh with him again.

Not even Cyclone's shadow can dim your shine, but Maverick does peak at him over his sunglasses. "Sir?"

"What is this?" Cyclone asks as everyone sets up again, none the wiser to Cyclone observing from the sideline.

"This–" Maverick gestures to the surf "–is dogfight football."

"Offense and defense at the same time," you say once you take a sip from your water bottle.

Ever critical, Cyclone asks: "Who's winning?"

"I think they stopped keeping score a while ago," Maverick says, his own water bottle crinkling as he drains it.

"This detachment still has some training to complete, Captain." His words are said to Maverick, but they're directed at both of you. Cyclone shooting you a look that says he expected you to do more to keep Maverick on Cyclone's track than go along willingly when he decides to play hooky. And maybe it's because this is the most fun you've had in years, but you'll readily admit that Maverick's plan had worked better than anything you'd wanted to run by Warlock. "Every available minute matters. So why are we out here playing games?"

Bob scores a touchdown, and Bradley lifts him onto his shoulders. Bob raises the ball above his head as the rest of the squad mills about them and chants, "Bob! Bob! Bob!"

"It's a teambuilding exercise, sir," you say, catching Maverick's surprised look out of the corner of your eye. "You asked him to create a team. There it is."

The three of you watch as the group runs into the ocean to cool off, only Hondo appears to be aware of their spectator, but Maverick raises a hand in his direction as if to let Hondo know that you have it handled.

"I expect them to be ready to fly tomorrow." By the time the graduates fish themselves out of the surf, Cyclone is long gone. And as they begin to walk around The Hard Deck with the promise of food and a few rounds of pool, Maverick's eyes find yours through your sunglasses.

"Well," Maverick sighs, hands clapping against his thighs, but he doesn't make to stand up. "I've gotta see if Penny will take some of these beers back."

You nod, dusting sand from your legs and shaking your shirt before pulling it over your head. "Make sure they drink some water," you say because you remember what it was like to be young and in the Navy. "I don't want Cyclone on our asses about them being hungover tomorrow."

"You heading out?" He rises to meet you.

"Yeah." You pat down your pockets to make sure that you have your keys. "It's about that time."

"Stick around," Maverick says when your keys jingle in your pocket. "Penny makes a mean burger."

Mean might be an exaggeration, but it turns out that Penny's burgers are pretty good. You hadn't expected much from a Navy bar, but credit where it's due and all that. By the time Maverick finds you at your booth, he's returned all but two of his beers and passes one of them to you. "I'd have gotten you a glass, but I already paid for these, so…" he trails off, and now that you can see his eyes, he looks uncomfortable standing at the end of your booth.

Maybe you're still running on the endorphins from your teambuilding exercise, or your newly blossoming trust is making you do some weird shit, but you decide to accept the can that Maverick offers you. You crack it open and take a sip, nodding to the bench across from you. Maverick jumps at the chance and slides onto the seat, his elbows resting on the table as he takes a gulp of his beer.

"So," you say, not entirely sure where to start with how long it's been since you've willingly engaged in a conversation with Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, but you're in a mood to humor him, "still a Captain, huh?"

Maverick chuckles. "A highly decorated Captain." It sounds like he's been saying it for years.

The conversation is stilted. Strictly professional. But it's more than you've been willing to give Maverick in years. The conversation is shot dead when the jukebox is unplugged, and Maverick gets a faraway look on his face as Bradley begins tickling at the piano keys. Before long, the rest of the bar is scream-singing Great Balls of Fire along with him, but your silence stretches even after Bradley moves on to the next song. And the next.

Your anger rises with each change of the keys. Finally, you can't take the silence any longer. "It was wrong what you did." It's the least of what you've wanted to say to him for years.

"I did what I had to."

"Bullshit," you grit. You see red. Because who the fuck did — does — Maverick think he is? "You had no right–"

"Carole asked me to do it." He says it so softly that you almost miss it between the clack of the pool table and din of conversation. Of all the defenses you'd been expecting, all the excuses you'd imagined over the years, you'd never…

"What?"

"She– Well, she–" he stumbles over his words. A couple non-starters until he can finally spit it out with a careful look in Bradley's direction. "She never wanted him to fly. Not after what happened to Goose." So there it was. What you'd always assumed was Maverick's own selfish reason for keeping his best friend's son from flying.

But it wasn't his selfish reason. Fuck! You stared into your can, the carbonation fizzing against the thin metal until you could feel it beneath your fingers.

Fuck. You'd had Maverick wrong for years. Bradley had him wrong.

Maverick clears his throat when you don't have anything to say to his overdue confession. "She made me promise before she died."

"How long?"

"The next day," Maverick gives you a sad little smile.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

You still hate it, but you begrudgingly get it now. Years later. Maverick hadn't wanted to pull Rooster's papers. Carole had put him in an impossible position. "You could've lied." You hate to even offer it up. It feels wrong the second the suggestion slips past your lips. Who lies to their friend on the deathbed? But Carole wouldn't have known. She could have died in peace, and Bradley would've been none the wiser.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell her, then…" he shakes his head. "Anyway, I knew Bradley would fly." He gestures across the table at you. "Knew you'd be there to help him get back on track."

But something about all of this still doesn't sit right with you. "Why not just tell him?" You abandon your beer and lean across the table, catching Maverick's downcast eyes. "He's… It would've hurt in the moment, but you've had years." An urge seizes you, and you have to fight every instinct in your body telling you to reach across the table. To cradle Maverick's hand in your own and rub some comfort into the old bones beneath tan skin. "You have to know by now that he'd have understood." That he'd still understand. He'd be angry, but he'd understand.

For all that you were the wind in Bradley's sails after their falling out, you knew you'd always be a piss poor replacement for Bradley's Uncle Mav. God, you wished Goose was there to knock some sense into him.

Maverick takes another sip of his beer, his gaze on Bradley, surrounded by his teammates by the piano. "It's better this way," he says. "I'd rather him hate me than resent her."

"You're an idiot if you think Bradley ever could've hated Carole."

A smile tugs at the corner of Maverick's lip, but his dimples don't pop. "No one ever accused me of being smart."

— — —

You and Maverick play the role of intercepting fifth-gen fighters while the graduates practice the course at speed and attempt to hit an old refrigerator in the middle of the desert meant to simulate the underground bunker.

The day doesn't go as planned.

It starts with several unsuccessful runs, then Coyote going into g-loc, followed by a bird strike that forces Phoenix and Bob to eject. Your hands, steady in the cockpit, shake once you touch down while you try to keep your mind from spiraling. You try to do simple math in your head, and when that isn't distracting enough, you force yourself to look at the positives: Coyote is fine; Phoenix and Bob punched out, their parachutes deployed, and a helicopter is picking probably picking them up right now; Bradley hadn't been in the air.

Bradley.

Thinking about your baby bird makes your breath catch. Heart beating in your throat. How was he handling all of this? Had he watched them punch out? Had he ever–?

Before you can go to him, Maverick is there. "Hey," he says with a hand on your shoulder, and you don't brush it off. The touch is grounding. It's the only thing keeping you from entering a flat spin. "Are you okay?" All you can think is that you should be asking him that. What you muster is a nod. It's been a while since you've been in the air when something had gone wrong, and your mind keeps circling back to Goose. Maverick's eyes study yours before he ushers you toward the building. He asks you to wait before disappearing into the men's locker room and returning with a manilla folder. "Think you can bring Cyclone tomorrow's lesson plan?"

You accept the folder, looking at the thick card stock in your hands. "Where're you going?"

Hesitation and desperation war in his eyes. "Rooster." Ah. Yeah. That makes sense. You want to go after Bradley yourself, but Maverick needs it.

You swallow to wet your dry throat. "Yeah," you croak. "Good. Yeah. I'll make sure he gets it."

Maverick's hand squeezes your shoulder. "Thank you." Then he's gone down the hallway, peering through windows as he goes.

But bad news always comes in threes.

The call comes in while you're defending Maverick's lesson plan.

You hadn't even known that Iceman was sick.

Warlock offers his condolences to Cyclone, then dips out of the room to find Maverick and deliver the news. Seconds later, footsteps hurry past the door and out of the base. A door slamming as the rumble of a bike disappears into the distance.

You stand with your old Top Gun class at the service. Well, the ones who had been able to show up. Slider. Hollywood and Wolfman. Viper.

Ron had tried to get approval to fly one of the jets overhead, but his request had been denied, which, you thought, eying his hands as they shook during the eulogy, was probably for the best. After the service, the five of you grab a drink for old time's sake, and Viper pours one out for your fallen comrade. Maverick doesn't join.

But when it rains, it pours.

An email is all the warning you get that Cyclone is taking over the mission. Maverick's career as a naval aviator is over, but yours isn't. You're expected to stay on. Without Iceman to fight for him, Maverick is grounded. All over the world, you're sure, admirals and air bosses were breathing a collective sigh of relief — but to your surprise, you weren't among them.

For the first time since joining the Navy — with his best friend gone and his career at large buried alongside his wingman — Maverick is well and truly on his own.

Everyone is given a day off to mourn and collect themselves while Cyclone develops a new game plan.

New orders come through the following day. You arrive on base early and are briefed on the latest mission parameters, but they make you feel like you've swallowed lead. It's a feeling you can't shake while you change into your flight suit, a voice in your ear buzzing that you're sending your team off to an early grave. You're on your way to run through preflight to fly an example of Cyclone's plan when you swear you see Maverick out of the corner of your eye.

You squint through the early morning sun. "Maverick?" He puts a finger to his lips and waves you over, and with a quick look around, you go to him. When you're close enough, he pulls you into the shadow of the hangar he's hiding behind so neither of you will be seen by officers about their dailies. "What are you doing here?" you ask, quiet this time. "Cyclone said that you were done."

"Yeah," Maverick said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "I'm sure he'd like to believe that."

"I don't like that look." But you're smiling.

"A lot of people 've been saying that lately." He smiles back. Then: "I'm going to steal a jet."

"Come again?"

Maverick holds his hands up to calm you down. You must've been loud in your surprise because he's looking around the tarmac like he expects to be found out any second now. "The only way they come home is the way we've been teaching them," he says, and it's truth. You both know it. The squad knows it. Cyclone knows it.

Every mission has its risks. These pilots accept that.

"I won't drag you down with me, but if you could just — I don't know — distract the ground crew while I climb into one of the F/A-18s, I'll deny that you had any part in–"

You hand Maverick your helmet. "Take mine."

"What?"

"I'm set to fly the course in–" you check your watch "–at the top of the hour." With your helmet in Maverick's hands, you begin loosening the strap that fits under your chin so it'll go on easier for him. "Keep your head down and use signals during preflight or you won't make it off the ground."

"Avalanche–"

"Cyclone doesn't think it can be flown, but it can," you say and place your hands on Maverick's shoulders. "Prove him wrong."

"Thank you."

"Turn 'n' burn, Mav."

You make your way to the class after you watch Mav take off in your plane. As luck would have it, you arrive just as your plane appears on the screen.

"Avalanche," range control crackles through the comms, "you are approaching point Alpha. Confirm green range."

"Copy, Range control. Green range is confirmed." Cyclone's eyes find yours when he starts at the very decidedly not feminine voice that responds to the tower.

"Umm… Avalanche?"

"Maverick."

"We have this event scheduled for Avalanche, sir."

"Well, I'm going anyway," Mav says. "Setting time to target: two minutes and fifteen seconds."

You might be the only person in the room who isn't surprised when Mav pulls off his stunt.

Cyclone takes off from the hangar with Warlock hot on his heels. You follow as they pass you by.

"You were supposed to keep him in line," Cyclone says, but he doesn't turn to look at you. Warlock does, you even think he understands why you did it, but Warlock wasn't the one Mav had to convince.

"With all due respect, sir–"

"Dismissed."

Your steps falter. "What?"

Cyclone shoots you a glare over his shoulder. "Go home, Rear Admiral. We will discuss this later." Then to Warlock: "Bring Mitchell to my office. Now."

With no other way to contact him, you head to the Hard Deck, knowing Mav will find you there eventually. You hope he's got good news when he does.

Mav takes significantly longer to show up than you'd anticipated, which is either good or bad. It's a busy night at the bar, the jukebox plays hit after hit, and one unlucky sod has the bell run on him for disrespecting a lady. No one is tossed overboard. You've only managed to drink half of your beer, your stomach lurching uneasily each time you take a sip, and your eyes jumping to the door every time it swings open, unsettled with the knowledge that you all ship out in the morning. That this was the last chance Mav had to prove the mission could be flown, to change Cyclone's mind before the team was selected. That he — you — might have been too late.

Then he shows up. Nostalgia personified in his dress whites, cap tucked beneath his arm as Loverboy croons over the clink of glasses and laughter that fills the bar. Your breath catches in your throat.

This is it. The moment of truth.

Mav's face gives nothing away as he leans in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. "Take a walk with me?" You abandon your room-temperature beer and follow Mav onto the deck and down to the beach. He lets out a bone-deep sigh as his dress shoes fill with sand.

"What's with the whites?" You're shooting for casual, but you're practically shaking. Is this a final night of glory? A swan song? A victory lap?

"Just seemed appropriate." Mav shrugs and drags out your suffering.

"So," you say, drawing it out until the vowel is lost in the breeze, "did you get canned?"

"No." You give him a look, and he relents. "Close, but no."

The surf fills the silence, but there's only so much it can do before the space between you grows stale. The moment to say something has almost passed when: "Spit it out. We aren't getting any younger."

"I've been appointed team leader."

It crashes into you like waves against the hull of a carrier. The whites, the solemn expression. This is supposed to be goodbye.

"Don't go." And you mean it. Don't even have to think about it.

But Mav's eyes stay on the water. Dark waves gliding up the sand and retreating. "I have to."

"No. You don't."

His shoulders stiffen; you can see it clear as day with the way his whites contrast the inky black of the night sky. "Is that an order, Admiral?"

You scoff. "No. If it was, you'd just break it." Mav chuckles despite himself. "It's a request. From a friend." But the request feels hollow when you put it that way. Tastes like a lie on the back of your tongue.

"I'm the only one who's flown the course in the timeframe. It has to be me."

"Please," you say because you aren't above pleading. Because you're desperate and running out of reasons.

"I love you." The words feel like ejecting without a parachute. Like diving headfirst into an alpine lake at the height of summer — frigid water filling your lungs as you gasp. "Never stopped, but," he pauses, meets your gaze with his own, and for the first time, Mav seems every bit his age. You can't help but feel that he looks all the more handsome for it. "I wanted to say it now. In case I don't get the chance to, later."

You pull him into a kiss and breathe him in like water. Longing. Lingering. Drowning. Mav allows himself to sink beneath the surface with you before his hands cover your own on his cheeks and pulls away. He takes a step back, surfaces, stumbles slightly in the sand. "When I come back," he promises.

And that's precisely what echoes in your head when you hear that Dagger One has gone down.

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#thirsty's suggestion box #user: i-wear-wet-socks313 #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x f!reader #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #top gun 1986 #top gun: maverick #tg:m #top gun fanfiction #pilot!reader #fic: call sign: avalanche #call sign: avalanche pt. 1 #pt. 2 coming soon

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onstrangerthighs · 1 year

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I'll Find You (Today, Tomorrow, and Yesterday)

For @billyhargrovebingo

TW: suicidal thoughts

--Chapter One: The Funeral--

He stares anywhere but at the framed picture of a clean-cut Billy Hargrove, dressed in a white button-up shirt, something Steve is sure he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. In the photo, Billy’s all teeth, his face pulled taut like a rubber band at its limit. A fake smile if Steve ever saw one.

Did he ever see Billy with a real smile?

Yes. Shirts vs. Skins, that day in gym class. He had worn a tired but cheeky grin, cerulean eyes locked on Steve; a famished lion hungry for a challenge, and then some.

He picks at a loose blue thread— the same shade as his eyes.

Steve’s parents had flown in two days earlier when word reached them about Starcourt. Nothing about what really happened, just the official cover story everyone agreed to tell. The last words Steve spoke before going completely mute were “Billy saved us.”

“That color suits you, son,” his mother said as she straightened his collar, something she hadn’t done since he was ten. They’d actually sat together as a family back then.

He’d looked in the mirror on his way out and couldn’t place why, but he’d gotten a little choked up. Yeah, blue looks good on me.

It looked better on Billy.

“Quite the turn out, huh?” Tommy’s voice is the quietest it’s ever been.

Steve scoffs. School had been canceled so everyone would be able to attend the service, so majority of “grievers” were just happy to get a day off.

“He-uh-liked you.”

The program scrunches up in his tightening grip.

“He asked a bunch of questions, wanted to know all about ‘King Steve’,” Tommy laughs hollowly. “He... really came alive around you.”

A lone tear rebels against Steve’s dry eyes and onto the paper.

“If Billy were here right now, ya know what he’d say?”

You only knew him for a few minutes. Then again, Billy did have this strange effect on people, himself included, where he made such an impression that it was like you’d known him forever. He left you breathless, always wanting more of him.

Tommy goes to hug Steve, but instead settles for a shoulder pat, leaving a space that doesn’t stay empty for long.

Was that what happened when people died? Did they just… get replaced?

As Nancy would say, bullshit. Some holes can never be filled by anyone*.* Billy was a tough act to follow. He wasn’t meant to be replaced. He wasn’t meant to die.

It’s far too sunny for a day like this.

“Max is trying to get her mother out of the bathroom,” El - oh, that’s who’s sitting next to him- says. She holds a tissue box close to her chest and squeezes his fist. “Billy was special to me, too. He was a hero, Steve.”

Look what that got him. He died for a town that didn’t give a shit about him when he was alive. He should be here.

“Sometimes I think he should’ve let the Mind Flayer take me. But that wasn’t who Billy was. He was the hero we all needed, and he never got saved. Mike says I’m one a lot… I don’t think any of us are.”

This girl really is much too wise for her age. If anyone knew the real Billy, it’d be El, who had started calling him her big brother.

“You met him. During basketball. You-” El pauses, looking at him sadly before continuing, “you were one of his happy memories. He didn’t have many.”

If he were alive, maybe I’d be brave enough to tell him he made me happy, too. At least I put a smile on his face, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. It was special to him. Was I-

No. No use in going down that road. If only… I’d known sooner how cruel summer could be to stars in Indiana.

“I’ve got you,” Max assures her wobbly mother as she half-drags her dead weight to their seats. When they pass by Steve, they don’t look at him. Susan smells like she drank an entire liquor store in preparation to face her dead stepson one last time, and when Jonathan leaves his own torn family to offer some help, Max hisses at him, “Help? A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Jonathan opens and closes his mouth, because he really can’t argue otherwise. Neither can Steve. Nancy watches the tense exchange from a distance with haunted eyes.

“We… we didn’t kill him, Steve.” She’d whispered over the phone two nights prior, sounding just as guilty as he felt all the same.

“Yeah? Well, we sure as hell didn’t try to help him, either.”

Before Billy’s coffin is lowered into the ground, everyone gets in line with flowers to lay on it… him. Max goes first, barely holding back tears as she sobs her goodbyes. El abandons Steve’s side to hug Joyce, which is understandable. He’s not exactly the warmest person.

“I can’t do this,” Susan cries loudly, dropping her flower.

“Mom! You promised! You said you would do this for him!” Max pleads, hiccupping.

“None of us should be here.”

“Mom, what are you-”

Susan pulls away from her and kneels down beside the coffin, trembling. “I failed him. He was so young! It’s all my fault! All this damned town’s fault! We killed Billy!”

We killed Billy.

As soon as they arrive home, Steve runs to the bathroom and vomits his breakfast. His parents don’t bother checking on him. They’re probably already gone. Now it’s just him and his guilt. He counts sheep until eventually falling asleep. Every few hours he wakes up screaming for Billy to run. To get back in his Camaro and keep driving.

At 12: 00 am, his own screams scare him awake, and his nailed bat isn’t by his bedside like it usually is.

2: 00 am… he pretty much gives up on getting in the mandatory 8 hours. He hasn’t slept since this whole mess with the Upside Down, when he learned that monsters were real. He stares holes through his ceiling. Billy died not even knowing what the fuck was going on. Why didn’t we tell him? So what if it was supposed to be a secret? He deserved to know.

And yet…

You punched him. Your last words to him were “get out.” You could’ve opened the fridge! You could’ve shown him the creepy ass demo-whatever. You never say the right thing, do you? You’ve wasted words and started fights. So many mistakes.

Oh, and you lied to him about his sister. He looked at you like you were a freak. Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself while he’s seven feet under? Typical.

If I could fix it, trust me, I would!

Gifts won’t bring me back, Harrington.

I know.

2: 45 am, and Steve finally dozes off, praying for the first time since his first communion… begging God to kill him.

#tw suicidal thoughts #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #el hopper #max mayfield #my writing #unedited #angst #susan mayfield #yes this is the time travel thing

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strangedreamings · 2 months

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S2E7 (spoilers abound)

Addam, you'd better come clean about your parentage soon. The guy probably doesn't even know his dragon's name.

Alicent bemoaning that she served her House (it's telling that she didn't say "family") and the Realm her entire life only to be cast aside. Honey, did you really think you'd have a different fate than countless other noblewomen? You did, didn't you? Pathetic.

Fucking hell, woman, you want go sightseeing in the Kingswood (a huge forest outside of KL) with no one accompanying you but one member of the Kingsguard? You have a death wish. Or maybe she really does have a death wish and wants to either kill herself or have him do it. That's not in the book but that hasn't stopped the writers before.

Larys and Ironrod talking about Seasmoke. Larys really wants to dismiss this? Granted, it took a game of telephone for the info to get to Ironrod, but still, he's not being a very good Master of Whisperers if he dismisses rumors like that.

Ser Alfred's being a contrary shithead again. Can Seasmoke eat him, please?

Mysaria suggests looking at the Targ bastards. Finally!

Corlys, just acknowledge your bastard(s) and put everyone out of their misery.

Young Oscar is brave enough to stand up to Daemon but wise? Nah. Still, keep an eye on him. Can he tell Daemon's lost his fucking mind? Unclear, but he doesn't trust him one bit, good. I just checked, Oscar survives the Dance in the book. Let's see if the writers will give him that.

Hell, he might not even survive this gathering of the Riverlords.

Forget what I said, Oscar's very wise for someone his age. Let's just hope he can keep his head (literally and figuratively). He's making Daemon "dispense justice." Daemon is looking every one of his 48 years (which is interesting since Matt is 41), the stress is really getting to him.

Did Daemon imagine this whole thing? Alys and the curse are really getting to him.

Wouldst thou like to live deliciously, Daemon?

Half-dead Viserys who actually sounds pretty lively and is making a lot of sense.

Speaking of half-dead, hi, Aegon. Your PT isn't going very well.

Corlys semi-acknowledging his bastard son Alyn. Interesting.

Rhaena going dragon hunting. This can't end well.

Alicent's camping trip. She doesn't want to go back and I don't blame her, but honey, you can't stay in the woods forever. Go to your mom's family's place, Brightwater Keep.

Whoa, Jace is getting racist on us. Or maybe the writers were trying for "snobbish," but a white man calling a Black man a "mongrel" can never be seen as anything but racist. "What are we then?" Well, you're a bastard half-Targaryen, Jace, which actually makes you no better than bastard half-Velaryon Addam. At least Addam's not being a pissbaby about it. Honestly, the Battle of the Gullet can't come soon enough.

Oh, Jace, your mother should fucking slap you for how you're speaking to her right now. "And now you say you will strip that from me too." When did she ever say that? Jace, you are so full of shit. You may have a Targaryen mother but you are no Blood of the Dragon.

Ulf. I don't like this guy. I get the purpose he serves in the narrative, I just don't think he's interesting.

Is this blacksmith claiming to be a son of Saera Targaryen, courtesan sister of Daemon and Viserys' parents Baelon and Alyssa? If so, they've changed Saera's story quite a bit. She wasn't just a courtesan, she was THE courtesan in Volantis. Hmm.

So their daughter did die. Yeah, she looked like she was at death's door the last time we saw her. Still, it's sad. Oh, this guy's Hugh Hammer, that makes some sense.

Okay, that's a lot of Targ bastards. Why stop at just two dragons, Rhaenyra? Grey Ghost, the Cannibal, and Sheepstealer are also available, though their riders would have to both claim and tame them.

Vermithor's turn for a barbecue, lovely. Hey, Hugh, is gaining a dragon worth losing your wife?

This idiot Ulf got lost in the caverns. Did he just step on an egg? He's pissed off Good Queen Alysanne's dragon Silverwing. She's claimed him? Great.

Ulf has taken it upon himself to fly Silverwing to KL. Or maybe it was Silverwing's idea and he's just along for the ride, he doesn't seem to be controlling her at all.

Aemond, I really hope you're not thinking of facing a dragon on horseback. You're not that stupid. Oh, there's Vhagar. Poor thing just wants to retire. So the two of them follow Ulf and Silverwing to Dragonstone, THEN Aemond decides to turn back? Whatever.

Nice seeing Syrax, Vermithor, and Silverwing in one shot.

Preview for the season finale. "The Prince Regent is angry, there is no telling what he would do." Larys, have you been paying attention SINCE SEASON ONE? Aemond is ALWAYS angry.

Aemond wants his grieving sister to fly into battle? Honey, she's never even SEEN a battle, let alone participated in one. Does she even know "dracarys"?

Well, the finale will be interesting, at the very least.

#hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon

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alarajrogers · 7 months

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Correct me if I'm wrong but In "journeyman of magnetism" Magneto implies that Gabrielle Haller claiming he wasn't Jewish but in fact Sinti to the UN was some sort of deliberate disinformation campaign or psyop as she knew full well he was Jewish in UXM 161.

In finding a Doylist explanation for 'the retcon' what led you there?

Yes. He's been obviously, blatantly Jewish since Claremont started establishing it -- non-practicing, but a lot of what he says makes no sense if he's Romany. So before that retcon was re-retconned, a whole lot of us were absolutely sure that the whole thing was wrong... and the entire "Magneto is Romany" identity thing came from Gabrielle Haller, who is an Israeli ambassador who survived the Holocaust. Throwing Magneto's Jewish identity under the bus to prevent a resurgence of antisemitism (similar to what we're seeing since the attacks on Gaza started) and protect Israel and Jews worldwide is exactly a thing I still believe she would do if necessary. (Rude to throw the Romany under that bus too, but in the world of Marvel, Dr. Doom is Romany; any extended harm that may come to the Romany people from being associated with a supervillain, has already happened, and Doom has made a big thing about his heritage and about protecting his people. Latveria is probably full of Romany people who migrated there because Doom wouldn't let them be treated like shit.)

Personally I am annoyed that they got rid of the name "Erik Lehnsherr" (which was never either a Jewish or Romany name -- it means "lord of the land" and neither group was allowed to own land -- but if it had to be one or the other it made more sense to me that it might have come from a gentile man marrying a Jewish woman, since Jewish identity is carried from the mother, at some point in the past.) They could have gotten rid of the Romany thing without getting rid of the name. "Max Eisenhardt" is just... it's one of those too-apropos Marvel names, given that Max and Magnus mean the same thing and Eisenhardt means "iron strong" or something like that. It's got the word "iron" in it, is the point. (Some people at the time claimed it meant "iron heart" but that's inaccurate, German heart is "herz"; hardt means something like "hardy, brave, strong" in names.)

But even if it was Magneto who set up the Erik Lehnsherr identity... Gabrielle would have known better. Romany didn't go to Israel, and in Israel, Magnus probably did practice Judaism, at least enough of it to not stand out.

Part of my entire problem with the removal of the Erik identity, aside from the fact that it had already been assigned to him in the movies by that time, was that in Age of Apocalypse, David Haller addresses him by that name. If he only used it for a brief time while he was hunting for Magda, and then ditched it to be "Magnus" when he went to Israel, why would David even know it? Also, Charles calls him that name. Charles has been inside his head, Charles has to know his real name. Does Magneto consider "Max Eisenhardt" a deadname? Why would he? He got rid of the name because he was wanted in the Soviet Union for murdering half the town of Vinnitsa, not because he wanted to reject the memory of his family. (Not then, anyway.)

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episodicnostalgia · 7 months

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Star Trek: The Next Generation, 122 (Apr. 25, 1988) - “Skin of Evil”

Teleplay by: Joseph Stefano & Hanna Louise Shearer Story by: Joseph Stefano Directed by: Joseph L. Scanlan

The Breakdown

Deanna Troi’s shuttle craft suddenly loses power on it’s way back to the Enterprise and she (along with her pilot) end up crash landing on a barren planet. Fortunately, Enterprise was in communications range when the shuttle went down, so the gang zips off to help. UNfortunately the planet is controlled by a quasi-omnipotent puddle of crude oil named Armus, who has a developed penchant for inflicting pain, and emotional turmoil in others; and he senses a prime opportunity to do just that.

As it happens, one of Armus’ vaguely defined abilities is to emit a forcefield around Deanna’s shuttle to stop her from being beamed to safety. Not yet aware of what-or-who he’s engaged with, Picard sends an away team comprised of Will Riker, Tasha Yar, Dr. Crusher, & Data, where they first encounter Armus as a black puddle that keeps blocking them from reaching Troi’s shuttle (it/he slithers in front of wherever the away team attempts to go). Eventually Armus re-forms as anthropomorphic garbage bag covered in tar, and threatens to kill anyone who attempts to save Troi. Since Tasha isn’t one to take shit from a villain-of-the-week, she bravely pushes forward… and is immediately killed.

Armus allows the away team to return to their ship (although still without Troi), where Dr. Crusher tries her best to revive Tasha, but to no avail; Lt. Yar is very dead. To make matters worse, the crew is also no closer to saving Troi. Indeed, at barely 15 minutes, the bulk of the episode has yet to play out, which effectively remains in a stalemate, as Armus psychologically and physically torments the next away team (but mostly Riker).

While Armus spares no opportunity to remind everyone of how evil he is, Troi slowly manages to pump him for information back in the shuttle wreckage, with the aid of her empathic abilities. Meanwhile, Worf notices that Armus’ anti-transporter forcefield seems to weaken slightly whenever he’s busy taunting Troi. The meaning of this isn’t initially made clear, but since the episode is starting to run out of time, Picard figures it’s safe to start wrap things up, and heads down to the planet for this week’s big philosophical showdown!

Upon beaming down, Picard offers himself to Armus in exchange for his crew’s safe release, but only after he’s been allowed to have a private conversation with Troi. For reasons that aren’t entirely clear, Armus agrees to these terms, giving Picard the opportunity he needs to figure out a solution. Troi explains that the Armus is a living manifestation of all the hate and rage (akin to a “skin of evil”, if you will) from some race that somehow had those traits removed from themselves, and then presumably discarded on this planet in the form of a sentient waste byproduct. It turns out his one weakness is receiving emotional validation over being abandoned, which is remarkably convenient. Armed with that knowledge, Picard unleashes an unrelenting barrage of sympathy in the manner that only a grumpy French dude (with an English accent) could deliver; using pretentious soliloquy, and verbose sentiment.

And it works! Armus feels so seen by Picard’s observations (namely that he’s just a sad and empty shell of a tar-monster), that he lowers his guard just enough for Worf to beam the survivors and Piccard back to the Enterprise. With everyone safe and sound (except for Tasha), the crew of the enterprise leave their exasperated foe behind, along with a warning buoy for future explorers to avoid the goopy incel stranded on the desert planet.

All-in-all, a close call, but another happy endin-

...oh wait, that’s right. You see, since the crew member who died also has a star billing in the opening credits, we actually have to spend some time showing the bridge crew in a state of grief (whereas if Deanna’s barely-mentioned pilot had croaked instead, we’d be halfway through the credits already). Picard holds a funeral wherein he plays a pre-recorded holo-message of Lt. Yar herself, which I guess must be a normal thing to do in the future. Her hologram proceeds to give a VERY long, personalized thorough message for each person in attendance. Data wonders aloud if he’s missed the point of this gathering, since he keeps thinking mostly “about himself and how empty life will be without Tasha”, and Picard is like “Nah, you’re pretty much dead on.” [No pun intended]

So… another happy ending, I suppose.

The Verdict

Honestly though, I’m with Data. ‘Empty’ is basically the only word to describe how I feel about this episode, and that’s a shame. It’s widely known that Tasha was only killed off because Denise Crosby asked to be released from her contract, but the writers could have chosen a more interesting episode to feature this story beat. The thing is, I actually appreciate that Tasha’s death wasn’t built up beforehand; I tend to fall in the school of thought that character deaths are often better served when they aren’t heavily projected or drawn out. The problem is everything else about ‘Skin of evil’ effectively amounts a nothing-episode, with very little to say, and even less to show for it.

Armus as a villain is… certainly a villain I guess, but his motivations and what drives him would leave me with more questions than answers, if only what little we did learn about him wasn’t so dull. Too much of the episode is spent on the incessant back-and-forth of Picard and Co. insisting they be allowed to save Troi, to be met with Armus regurgitating one insufferable tangent after another about how he won’t because it pleases him not to. Pretty much the only character who moves the story forward is Troi during her verbal sparring sessions with Armus, while everyone else effectively spins their wheels (I’ll give a few points to Worf though).

I don’t blame the cast for any of this though, as all my criticisms fall to the writing. In fact, most of the cast have some really solid moments whenever they’re given something to work with. Worf resisting his warrior impulses in order to take up Tasha’s mantle is well executed by Michael Dorn, as is Data’s confusion over grief (courtesy of Brent Spiner). Also, despite the fact that I didn’t find Troi’s scenes particularly compelling in-and-of-themselves, Marina Sirtis gives a strong performance, if only because she’s given something to do beyond serving as Picard’s personal lie detector.

The whole episode is such a squandered opportunity to tell a story that could have been one of this season’s (very few) highlights. Bearing in mind, this episode marks the first time in Star Trek history that a series regular dies without being brought back to life (not counting alternate realities or time travel). From the stories I’ve heard about the working conditions on the show, especially for the women cast members, I can’t say I blame Denise Crosby for wanting to leave. Still, there’s a selfish part of me that wishes she stayed until the later seasons when the show began to improve; there was just so much untapped potential for Tasha’s character.

1.5 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

So exactly how long ago had Tasha prepared that “in the event of my untimely death” holo message? She’s presumably known most of the crew for slightly less than a year, but had a full speech for each main character, as if she’d known them for considerably longer. I’m not saying she couldn’t have made close friends with the crew in that time, but that still means her recording must have been made fairly recently. Timing is everything, I guess.

Given Picard’s rigid adherence to following rules, and borderline obsessive code of honour, I would have half-expected him to stay on the planet with Armus. I wouldn’t even be all that surprised if there was an episode in season 2 where a corrupt Admiral calls out Picard’s actions from this episode, by reminding him that a “Starfleet Captain’s word is his bond”, and that he must return to Armus and be tortured for eternity, or give up his rank as captain. Of course, Picard would accept his fate because his devotion to Starfleet is absolute, but then Data would probably find a loophole in the rules somewhere, which the Admiral would have to begrudgingly accept. But seriously, you can’t tell me that premise is any less preposterous than a good chunk of season one.

Troi-SPIRACY: In an earlier post, I put forth a scenario that Troi has actually been faking her empathic abilities in order to get her lousy mom off her back, and now she’s in too deep to admit the truth. This episode would seem to refute that theory outright as evidenced by the use of her abilities on Armus, but she’s not fooling me! We mustn’t forget that Troi is a professional counsellor, who attended one of the most prestigious, and well funded academies in the galaxy. Clearly, she just used her training and experience to make some astute observations about Armus, and later attributed it to her ‘abilities’ in order to keep up the ruse. And I know what you’re thinking, “But Troi’s counsel has always seemed hiliarously antiquated in the past, almost as if it was a caricature 80’s pop psychology”; but I maintain that even that was all part of her deception. Think about it. Really THINK about it. What better way to trick everyone into believing you have superpowers than to draw attention away from them with questionable guidance? Then, having thrown everyone off the scent, all you need to do is to utilize your intellect and sharp deductive reasoning in moments of great need, and pass it off as an ‘empathic ability.’ NICE TRY Deanna! You may have everyone else fooled, but I see you for what your really are. A keenly proficient student of the human experience, and a valuable ally! Consider yourself exposed, you fraud!

Worf and Tasha were clearly flirting, right? That can’t just be me. If she hadn’t died, those two would have done the warrior tango for sure. Poor Worf. Oh well, I’m sure his future romances will all end less tragically.

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idealisticrealism · 5 months

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TCL 3x08 thoughts

The main things:

I’ve lost track of the timeline here a bit, but Ramona mentions to Nadia that it’s been ‘a hard few days’, which I’m assuming means the few days including/after the wake? Normally it would take at least a few days (often several) just to arrange for cremation, and I would have thought that the FBI situation would have also delayed that, but maybe Jorge and Ramona were able to pull some strings and speed it up? Or maybe Russo pushed it all through quickly because the FBI wanted to see if his Velorio would lead to any new information/suspects? Who knows. On the day of the wake Jeremy refers to the chase as happening ‘the other day’ which makes it sound like less than a week had passed since the car chase/Arman’s death. Also given the fact that Ramona and Jorge only go to the apartment for the first time in this ep, it can’t be more than a couple of days since the Velorio/the reveal of Dante’s involvement. So based off all that, I’m gonna go with the assumption that it’s been about a week (or even slightly less) since Arman’s death, meaning the entire season has covered about 2 weeks thus far.

Well, I definitely feel validated as hell by the reveals in this ep lol. Dying Ramona? Called it in ep 5, though tbh it still surprises me a little that the writers would go with a plotline like that, after everything that happened with Adan. But I guess they needed a reason for Ramona to decide not to kill Thony after she no longer has Arman’s protection, and this is just the most straightforward way to do it. Not to mention it will probably mean that Ramona dies off by the end of the season, getting her out of the way like all the previous villains haha. (Please kill her, Thony. Do it for Arman, and for me). But of course, even more satisfying was getting the long-awaited confirmation about FBI Agent Jeremy– though given that I called that one literally the moment he showed his face in 3x03, his big reveal at the end with Russo wasn’t so much an ‘omg I was right!!’ moment but more of a ‘yeah duh guys we already knew he was a Fed’ haha

Thony’s dream where she is Sin Cara…. Please please pleaaase let this be foreshadowing haha. Like seriously c’mon writers, make my Mob Queen Thony dream come true! And that visual was also just really cool, with Thony stripping away layer after layer of masks only to find herself underneath… like all her efforts to find Arman, and to find who was responsible for taking him, peeling back all the layers until she finds herself?? Damn. I think that’s part of why she’s so determined to go after Ramona, because she needs to focus on Ramona’s role in his death so she won’t be torn apart by her own guilt (because lbr, she knows that if he’d never met her, none of this would have happened and he’d almost certainly still be alive). But honestly, while she did play a part in the events that led to his death, it was Ramona proceeding with the kidnapping plan and Jeremy involving his FBI buddies that were the true causes of Arman’s death. But anyway ugh, Thony’s teary eyes and damp collar when she wakes from that nightmare… her getting up for water then immediately trading her water for a beer… her almost crying as she tells Fi that her hallucination of Arman in the apartment felt so real… her saying that she can’t let his death go… help it’s raining on my face

Honestly, it was fair enough for Fi to go to Russo. Thony keeps making all these promises that nothing else is going to happen to their family, but let’s be real here (and I say this with love lol), Thony’s promises don’t mean shit haha. She truly means them when she says them, but she’s just up against far too much to be able to handle it all on her own. It was so brave of Fi to go to Russo, especially given her deportation situation, and I love that Russo is basically like ‘thanks for meeting with me. what info have you got? btw nice job sneaking back into the country’ lol. Fi’s shocked response is hilarious– I mean c’mon Fi, did you really think that that topic wasn’t gonna come up??? But ugh Russo’s ‘if you help me maybe I can help you’ offer sounds a lot like the one Nadia got, only for Russo to then screw her over… don’t trust her Fi! Loved Fi’s “I’m not a victim” though. Hell yeah sister. Reminds me of how Thony also started off as a victim (witnessing Theo’s murder and being forced into the criminal underworld to survive) but found her own power and used her new environment and connections to her advantage. Things have gotten a little rocky again though with the loss of Arman and his support, and I think Fi calling Thony out on her precarious situation was really important (“If you really wanna keep us safe, stop making things worse”) because she does need that reality check… bc while every single thing Thony does is always with the aim of fixing things, her actions do often unintentionally end up having the opposite effect, and she needs to face that and figure her shit out now that she doesn’t have Arman or Garrett to clean up her messes. Anyway, sigh, so much for my hopes of Fi deciding to go rogue with Thony though haha… I guess she just made an exception for the day of the Velorio for Thony’s sake and now she’s back to her old ‘hanging out with criminals is a bad idea’ self lol

Okay sooo… do we actually believe Ramona when she says she didn’t know about the kidnapping at the start, and that Dante took Arman for using their routes, not knowing who he actually was? Because I find that very hard to believe haha. Especially given that Thony came to Sin Cara literally like the day after Arman was taken, and would have told them exactly how and where he was abducted… and so Ramona should have immediately put it together then that the man Dante abducted was Arman. But according to Ramona, she found out ‘too late’ (too late for what? Even if she didn’t find out the truth until right before the exchange, she could have called it off, but didn’t), and so I’m calling bullshit on that haha. She’s still just covering her ass, telling another lie to cover up the much worse truth, which is that she planned this from the beginning to bring Arman back into the family while also scoring a bunch of cash. I do find it really clever how we started the season thinking Ramona was going to be the villain, and then we met her and learned she was Arman’s family and that she was gonna help Thony, which had us thinking we’d been wrong and she wasn’t a villain after all, and now we’ve circled back to her being the villain again lol

Huh, I did not expect Nadia to be staying at the Sin Cara Casita, but I can see how being at home alone with all the memories of Arman would have just been too hard. She has no-one now, and Ramona was so welcoming and kind and acted like she was family, so I guess she thought that maybe this was her path forward and she could belong with them… only for Ramona to betray her in the worst way. I hope that this leads Nadia to realise that Thony was right all along, and Thony is the only one she can really trust. It was nice to see her go back to La Habana, back to her old self again. Though omg that staff member (Charmaine?) asking her what they’re celebrating… like maybe don’t ask that of a person who just lost their husband??? Lol. But daaamn Russo showing up and arresting her… I appreciate that Russo didn’t seem to take any satisfaction in the arrest (I think she does actually feel for Nadia and her situation, especially after having also recently lost someone she loved) but she’s clearly angling to get Nadia to turn on whoever she’s working with. Which is why it seems like a terrible idea for both Ramona and Jorge to come visit her in lockup? Her scene with Ramona was so good though ugh, like she was looking at Ramona and seeing what her future could be if she doesn’t make changes and start letting people in. Which, like I said, will hopefully begin with Thony! And maybe Jorge too, since Ramona betrayed him as well (multiple times now!) and because he genuinely did love Arman too. Though ngl, him asking for 50mil to help her is a bit sketchy haha.. But maybe she wouldn’t have trusted him otherwise, if it seemed like there was nothing in this partnership for him? Making it a business transaction is more like something she can understand.

Tbh that’s actually something that’s been really cool about this season: the way the partnerships and alliances have been steadily shifting and changing between these four central characters as the show progresses– first there was Thony and Nadia as a team, plus Ramona and Jorge. Then there was Thony and Jorge, plus Ramona and Nadia. Now it might be becoming Jorge and Nadia, plus Ramona and Thony. Though Jorge likely expects his new team-up with Nadia to include Thony as well, given the trust that they’ve formed (which would also help bridge the divide between Thony and Nadia again, which would be nice). And that scenario certainly could still happen, with the three of them forming a plan together to manage Ramona– but it’s also possible that the alliance that Thony offers Ramona in the gallery scene may damage her own connection with Jorge and Nadia, as they might see it as her selling out both Arman and them to save herself. But what Jorge and Nadia don’t know is that Thony is on a mission to make Ramona pay, and is following Jeremy’s advice: find your enemy’s weakness, and exploit it.

Honestly, Thony’s visit to Ramona in the gallery was so badass; the way she spoke to Ramona reminded me of what she was like when they had the motel manager guy tied up in the bathtub and were pretending to threaten him with organ harvesting. Back then, it was Arman who gave her that confidence, and it was the same now in a way; this time, it’s her love for him and her desire to honour his memory that helps her be bold enough to face Ramona, and she does it wearing the dress that she last wore on a night when Arman made a huge personal sacrifice for her and took an innocent life to protect hers. At this stage, I expect her plan is to make herself essential to Ramona as her doctor, either to earn enough gratitude from healing her that Ramona spares her and her family, or to gather enough incriminating info about Ramona that she can take to Russo to make a deal (though I have trouble seeing her doing that given Jorge’s warnings, and her not wanting to betray him). From the trailer for next week it does look like she’s going to be trying hard to fix whatever is killing Ramona… but tbh what I really wanna see is for Thony to go real dark and not just use her new position of power over Ramona to ensure her own safety, but to actually use that power to end Ramona’s life. Like imagine if Ramona agrees to what she thinks is a treatment from Thony, only for Thony to give her something that will kill her instead??? Or maybe a situation arises where Thony is genuinely trying to fix her, but then something goes wrong and Ramona starts to crash, and Thony realises that if she just lets it happen, Ramona will die and no one would know that Thony could have stopped it. Like damn that would be absolutely ice cold on Thony’s part, but could be a fascinating step in her character development, especially as she moves further away from that ��victim’ that she was at the start of the series, and closer to being the person who controls the power. Not to mention how I’ve talked before about how central it is to Thony’s character that she always has to save the person in front of her who asks for her help, even when it endangers herself or those she cares about… and so it would be a significant moment for her to actively choose not to help that person. But anyhow seriously, if I get my wish and she does kill Ramona, she better not get any hate for it, not when Arman and Jorge have both killed many people, and even Nadia has murdered someone. Thony has been through so much shit that honestly she’s earned the right to kill the person (or rather, people– take out Jeremy next, girl!) responsible for the death of the man she loved, and not to get demonised for it when other characters wouldn’t. (Basically what I’m saying is she deserves a little cold-blooded murder, as a treat lol)

Pro tip: when the building you’re in is filling with a deadly gas, fixing a barely-bleeding scalp laceration is not a priority!! Like sure it was fun to watch Thony McGyvering a solution to close the wound, but omg if that situation was real, a doctor like her would have never bothered with the stupid lac, because of a little thing called TRIAGE, aka dealing with the most life-threatening problem first! And like I said, the deadly gas is just a little higher on the priority list!! But hey, if they both died of chloride gas poisoning, at least he would have died with a nicely closed wound on his head lol. Sigh. But ngl I very much did enjoy that her solution to save their lives was to blow up the building that they were currently inside of lol. But again, triage– the likelihood of dying from the explosion was less than the likelihood of dying from the gas if they did nothing, so she makes the tough call and takes the lesser of two evils. I really do love the moments when we get to see her resourcefulness, intelligence, and bravery all at once, and Jeremy better be goddamn grateful to her for saving his ass lol. Although it doesn’t really seem like it, because the moment they get outside he uses her distraction and distress to pump her for information, and then basically tells her to go even deeper in the cartel? (Which, granted, is exactly what I also want her to do, but he’s endangering her for his own gain and that’s fucking shitty.) At least when Garrett forced her into being a CI, he was clear about what she was getting into, and made sure to support her and check in with her. Jeremy is just shoving her deeper into the lion’s den and waiting to see who walks out alive, and I can’t wait for the moment when this dark new Thony emerges and tears him to pieces.

Other stuff:

The tunnel/hallway thing that Thony walks down in her dream is the same one Jorge took her along to meet Sin Cara for the first time in 3x01… but she was blindfolded then and never actually saw it. Spooky. Also I’m pretty sure they used that same tunnel for the scene of Fi and Chris’ underground border crossing in 3x03, just with different lights lol

Violeta is such a precious little thing omg, and I appreciate the depth that she adds to Jorge with his Soft Dad Mode. Like seriously, them snuggling by the fire? Her waking and saying something with that tiny, sleepy, adorable voice, and him soothing her back to sleep? Help it’s too sweet ugh. And look I’m not gonna lie, I’m absolutely picturing how cute it would be if it was some future moment with Thony sitting across from him instead of Ramona, and with Luca asleep with his head in her lap because he and Violeta are both totally tired out after a really fun playdate. I’m not even saying it’s a romantic moment or anything, just two single parents sharing a really sweet moment of friendship and bonding over their kids, and ugh it would be nice if Thony got to have that someday.

Lol Chris and Jaz were totally grade-A sibling material in this ep. As a youngest sister with two big brothers, all the teasing about his crush felt very relatable haha. And it was nice to see a return of the playful embarrassing mum side of Fi too. All of them just having normal innocent fun together was so sweet ugh, I want more of that

Super convenient that the door to the sketchy apartment was just open lol. What was Thony’s plan otherwise?? Break it down?? Honestly with the state she’s been in since Arman’s death, I wouldn’t put it past her. It’s a shame that the threat of Ramona meant she had to pretty much race straight out of there, though, because I think it might have been good for her if she’d had a chance to just go and be there, to sit in the chair he’d sat in and look at the surroundings that he’d spent his last days in, and just actually acknowledge her grief for a while…

Jorge blindly pointing the gun in the direction of his sister while he demands answers from Thony in the apartment… dude where’s your basic firearm safety?? Don’t point guns at people unless you’re fine with them getting shot!

Ugh when Thony asks Fi if she was the one who tipped off the FBI to the location of the exchange… the utter panic in her eyes, not only because of the danger that that act would put them in from Ramona, but also at the thought that if Fi had been the one to give the tip, she would have been as responsible for Arman’s death as Ramona is… and how would Thony have lived with that? How could she still live and work with her, still look at her every day knowing that the man she loved was dead because of Fi’s actions? Honestly thank god that none of us had to find out.

Poor Camila needs rescuing! And so Fi turns to Thony to fix it, which means continuing her involvement with the cartel, aka the opposite of what Fi asked her to do just hours ago… I wonder if this situation will make Fi see that Thony existing in that criminal world and having some power within the cartel actually has more benefits than she realised, and that not everything is so black and white when it comes to keeping their family safe…

Okay I desperately wanna see more of the FBI’s case board lol… so funny that the FBI’s understanding of Thony went from ‘she’s a cleaning lady for the Barsamians’ to ‘she’s somehow personally connected to Arman Morales’ to ‘she’s business partners with Arman in importing medications from Mexico, and also maybe his romantic partner as well??’ to ‘she got tied up with Kamdar and supposedly accidentally imported Fentanyl from the Philippines’ to ‘she’s the key to finding Arman’ to ‘she somehow got her sister and nephew back into the country illegally’ to ‘she’s the key to taking down the Sin Cara cartel’.... Like honestly I’m a little worried about what happens once she’s no longer useful to the Feds… given everything that’s happened, I find it hard to see how she’s going to escape the FBI’s clutches this time? And most importantly, with them watching her so closely, how am I gonna get the Mob Queen Thony that I want so badly haha? But I guess the next few eps will answer that…

#The Cleaning Lady #TCL recaps #TCL spoilers #The Cleaning Lady spoilers #definitely enjoyed this ep #and I am very very much looking forward to Thony doing what Jorge couldn't after losing the love of his own life #and burning it all the fuck down

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canyouplzjust · 2 months

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Moon shine

The third or fourth day of desert traveling was starting to get to me. My creature comforts were non-existent, everyone was on my nerves, and the monotony of an empty desert was really starting to take its toll on my spirit. How could this have been the right choice if we are so far away from our destination? Also, how is this desert this big? Seems fake. But our guidance system (the sun) says we've been moving in one continuous direction this whole time. Surely we've gotten somewhere.

On the horizon a grouping of buildings appeared, and I knew we had found a place to rest for the night. I also knew a little boy was going to be there, having been recently killed by a taxi cab, but I was glad to meet him, and he was glad to meet us, too. We did meet a little boy who was as confused as we were, as to why he was there, but he seemed to need our protection, so I told him he'd be safe with us. I hope I was right. His name is Jake and he's from 1977. Jake mentioned that there was a cellar in the barn, so I sent the brave men of our party down into the cellar to get the food Jake had spotted. The little boy had mentioned a menacing presence in the cellar, but kids are scared of the dark - right? Les, Aeon and Cyph went down the creepy wooden steps and were greeted by a magical darkness and a booming, haunting voice, asking them to, "Come closer and talk with me." It started to pull them in, and Les wouldn't drop the food to run. He really wanted to take care of us. Didi went down to check it out, and came back up to tell Rory that it was magic shit and they probably needed her. Rory went down the creepy stairs and got herself wrapped up in the dark tendrils that were spreading through the room. Sensing doom for the entire party, I grabbed Didi and pushed her ahead of me down the steps, and asked her to play Les's favorite song. Her guitar, now suddenly a key-tar, played Symptom Finger by the Faint, while I growled at the monster, "Crawl back into the hole you came from!" The Voice rang through the small stone room at a reverb that would have killed a human, but the monster was only shaken by my display of power. I hadn't let loose with the Voice in a long time, am I losing my touch? I still feel like I can wield it like a scalpel, but maybe my range is gone? The precision doesn't get away from me much, but I guess you lose some power in that trade off. I'll keep it this way, I much prefer it. I think Hardy does, too. Later. My attack was successful in making the monster loosen its grip on Rory - enough for her to cast an attack from her scythe at it. The hit was massive, and it retreated back into the hole it had actually crawled out of. Rory bravely reached her hand into the dark smoldering glow and pulled out a human jawbone, missing only a few teeth. I guess it talks to her, but we can't hear it. Dioces, she called it.

After dinner I was still tired of sitting still and playing nice, and the noise from the center of reason between my thighs was getting too loud to ignore. It had been more than a couple of years since we had last enjoyed each other's company, but I felt certain that I could feel Hardy's concealed eyes staring at my breasts from behind his helmet. I walked over to where he was standing and discreetly grabbed his hand. "Do you want to go find somewhere to fuck," I whispered in his ear. "Yes," he said, and nothing more. Cool. I told the group we were going for a walk and somehow only Rory understood where we were really going. I thought Didi got it, but you'll see in a just a moment, that she did not. On our way to the other building in the way station, an abandoned store, I checked in with Hardy about how he wanted to play. He's not a talkative man, but he is direct, and I appreciate that most of all. "Will you use the Voice on me, mistress," he asked in a gruff and plain request. "Wait until we get inside," I told him, and he followed me in silence the rest of the way.

We got inside the empty building and I watched Hardy close the door behind us. There wasn't much light coming in through the open windows, but there was enough to see each other by. I tilted my head as I took off my cape.

"Ask me again," I commanded, and no sooner had the words left my mouth, than Hardy begged me to use the voice on him. It was harder on him this time. It seemed to reach deeper down that it did before, at least to my memory, was it coming from a deeper place inside of me? I needed it more tonight than I can ever remember.

He drops to his knees in front of me as the wave of control washes over him, and I see beads of sweat appear on his shoulders.

It’s hard to describe where the power comes from in my body. It’s not a muscle I can damage while swinging a sword, and it’s not an organ I can fry by overloading it. Deep in my diaphragm, under my sacral chakra, there is a portal to a dimension of limitless power, and from that depth a phantom snakes up my solar plexus and twists into my words as they float, against their own gravity, from my mouth. The nexus of trust was the first one I chose, and it is the language I speak the best. “Tell me the truth,” I insisted in a flirtatious tone, but instead of a command, it is a small binding I perform. He could probably have resisted it if he wanted to, but that’s the last thing in the world that he wants. I wrap my words around his heart and listen with my soul as he pours his heart out to me. It feeds me.

NSFW interior of the abandoned store continued here:

SFW: Didi stumbled upon us having sex.

youtube

#die rpg #ic blog #Youtube

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nota-londra · 1 year

Text

I'm back (?)

Long time, no real posts

Hi :)

I think the last post I made was about a very toxic "friend" I made in college who not only lied and manipulated my actual best friend and I, but she also went around telling people things that simply were not true because they didn't happen. I think the blame game would go something like "Alondra deliberately made me feel bad about my body" (Not what I did, but if you had the same sick, twisted method of processing words incorrectly that she did, then you'd believe her) and "she made me feel like shit about an eating disorder" (I can't explain this one. I was a piece of shit at 19. I also wish that I hadn't felt like I was driven to that point [here's where I tell you I more than likely was expressing symptoms of mental illness during this time and for years to come.])

We did this thing called the "Joker Era" after college for a little bit. I blame the pandemic. You know? The whole two years or whatever that the state of Tennessee decided it was going to half-ass shut down. During the second-to-last semester of my college education, for fuck's sake. We went full-circle with that guy but it, of course, went nowhere. Now you're unemployed in your mid-twenties blogging in third/second/first person. No tense, just swag. Putting it all out here because you deleted Twitter almost a month ago (oh, buddy, don't get me started on that one). You finally decided to follow your dreams, BUT you haven't written anything that people have read since you were TWELVE YEARS OLD.

As a result, I'm drinking beer as the edibles hit while the movie about cannibalistic monsters I put on is playing. The dishwasher struggles to be louder than my boyfriend's loud TV speakers. I've managed to talk myself out of self-sabotage and destruction successfully for the nth week in a row. We're doing a lot better, surprisingly, for someone who's twenty-four years old, unemployed, and has no idea what she wants to do for work except the things she actually knows how to do.

No one really talks about how much low self-esteem and the perception of self can really fuck someone's shit up. I put my entire life on hold for things that genuinely do not matter: a man, because I felt like I wasn't good enough, because I was scared, because I was unsure. I've found myself saying things that begin with "Because girls like me don't/can't--" much more often at this age than I ever thought possible. All the versions of myself I'd make up when I was younger were nothing like the way I am now. I imagined myself being brave, strong, successful, and so much happier at 25 when I was a kid. As a teenager, I didn't even imagine myself alive, so that's a huge win.

How was I supposed to imagine all these great things about myself when I couldn't even imagine myself alive? I had to walk such a fine line growing up or I would be forced to face such violent consequences. How was I supposed to know that making mistakes as an adult was ok? How was I supposed to know that I shouldn't turn to my obsessions to cope? How was I supposed to know that an obsession with people and alcohol was as equally bad as any other substance and that finding peace and moving on was the correct answer?

I find myself still mesmerized by self-acceptance. How people seem to fully non-conform in a very conformist world and still live their truth despite it all. I still don't know my whole truth, but when I do (if I ever do), I'll know how to be more accepting and loving of myself than I ever have.

Through all of this, I've had this tumblr account. Six instagrams, four twitters, three facebooks, two tumblr accounts. The only thing I've used consistently is this tumblr account. None of the other social medias I had a decade ago still exist. For someone who likes to reset her digital footprint every so often, I've stuck with this one through a lot. From the awkward All Time Low gifs, to the moody fall photos, I can honestly say you've been the only constant in my life. As someone who's afraid of everyone leaving me, I'm thankful you never have, and now realize that it doesn't matter if people leave or not. It gets better, even though it might not really seem like it at first.

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strangefellows · 2 years

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Get ready for the great american novel

Atsushi, Chuuya, Arjuna, Nightingale, Moran, P5 Makoto

LMAO NO PLEASE GIVE ME MORE FEED ME

First impression

Atsushi: awwwwwwww babey

Chuuya: oh god oh fuck he's my type shit

Arjuna: huh! indian servant! i know literally nothing about indian mythology beyond names of gods/goddesses, so Okay I Guess

Nightingale: SHE'S WHAT CLASS NOW???? WHAT??????

Moran: MTP version? Like, "oh fuck he's my type huh"

Makoto: Oh. Oh god. It's just me. Mortifying ordeal time....

Impression now

Atsushi: AWWWWW BABEY X100 he's a precious angel with so much trauma and deserves to be protected, but also baby stop relying on Dazai so much.

Chuuya: HE'S STILL MY TYPE and I love him a lot and the concept of Arahabaki is fucking fascinating. There's a lot of potential there, but also I just. Love this bitch ass tiny mafioso.

Arjuna: He's not one of my favorite Servants, but he has his very cute moments as someone very serious or trying to be serious who gets dragged into Bullshit as not so above it all. His irrational rivalry with Karna is hilarious.

Nightingale: What the fuck do you mean she was this fucking weird in real life??? But also she's very fun, if terrifying.

Moran: I need to catch up on MTP but I still love him, and in general he's one of the more fascinating bit parts in the Holmes stories and has a lot of potential for fun.

Makoto: WE STAN A QUEEN. She's amazing. I love her. She's like me only ballsier, I wish I had her in high school.

Favorite moment

Atsushi: Probably either him rescuing Kyouka the first time on the train, or him beating the absolute mcfuck out of Fitzgerald. Be brave little tiger! Oh also him wrecking Shibusawa.

Chuuya: THE ENTIRE DRAGON FIGHT IN DEAD APPLE CHANGED MY LIFE PERMANENTLY. But also, Fifteen was so good.

Arjuna: I'm not counting Godjuna, so probably him showing up in events to be overly serious and straight man and failing.

Nightingale: Her speech to Cu Alter at the end, her Santa event, her being so unamused with Dantes.

Moran: OH GOD IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I READ MTP....but his arc with his former army stuff was really good.

Makoto: Her awakening for sure, also her all out attack makes me giddy I love the freezeframe.

Idea for a story

Atsushi: Honey get a vacation. Go to the beach. Do normal teenager things.

Chuuya: exploring Arahabaki in venues other than Stormbringer, hellyeah.

Arjuna: YOU WILL TELL ME ABOUT YOUR BROTHERS IN THE FATEVERSE YOU NERD

Nightingale: Interactions with the rest of the Chaldea Nursing Staff would be very fun.

Moran: I HAVE NO IDEA WHOOPS

Makoto: As with all my P5 answers for this, More Akechi Interactions, I want them to talk about her dreams for commissionership and how she understands forcing yourself into a Perfect Little Japanese Teenager box to fit in and meet expectations.

Unpopular opinion

Atsushi: I don't know opinions on him? Whoops.

Chuuya: While I don't mind the stuff Stormbringer did as much as most people seemed to, I do agree that I think Asagiri leaned too much into Nasu's "magic is computer science" mindset.

Arjuna: ....I don't have enough opinions on him oops.

Nightingale: What are opinions on her even?

Moran: .....I don't like BBC Sherlock. Fullstop.

Makoto: I think she needs to really reflect on what her dream means considering her relationships with Akira "burned hard by the justice system" Kurusu and knowing Akechi and what he went through, and she needs to be aware of what it means to be a police officer.

Favorite relationship

Atsushi: More than him and Dazai, I love him and Kyoka and the rest of the ADA and the found family needs to get explored more.

Chuuya: SOUKOKU AAAAAAA----

Arjuna: Obviously him and Karna, lets go boys.

Nightingale: I don't ship it, but her and Dantes' thing they've got going where he calls her Mercedes as a nickname and he thinks she's fucking insane -- not that he's not, but not in that way -- it's hilarious.

Moran: Him and James and the rest of the Moriarty team are always good.

Makoto: Her relationship with all the PT is very good! If I didn't ship shuake as hard as I did I'd definitely like her and Joker together.

Favorite headcanon

Atsushi: Teach this boi how to do normal teen stuff please, he doesn't know things most teenagers should.

Chuuya: Not sure! I don't have many headcanons.

Arjuna: Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Nightingale: She can will and HAS knocked people out to make them at least get five minutes rest. She's terrified even the other Berserkers by this point.

Moran: God I cannot remember.

Makoto: I don't think I have too many headcanons for her!

#fateseriesblogging #bsdblogging #p5blogging

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britneyshakespeare · 2 years

Text

I really thought Paulina and Leontes were going to get married at the end of The Winter's Tale

#is this a hot take? i kind of didn't expect it as much as i thought the way their arcs were moving it would be fitting and logical #tales from diana #text post #shakespeare #the winter's tale #i was kind of disappointed w perdita. i thought her story was really cool but her character got not much to do or say of her own.#meanwhile i think paulina may just be my new fave shakespeare heroine. what a FUCKING BADASS that lady.#i mean marry camillo that's fine that works #hermione came back to life good for her #i was somewhat wondering if smth like that was going to happen since it's a romance not a tragedy #and they were killing off a lottttt of characters early on for it not to still feel tragic by the end #altho r.i.p. mamillius my poor son #but the part of me that didn't think leontes and hermione would be reunited in the end was hoping that leontes would marry paulina #since she was the only one brave enough to CALL HIS SHIT the entire time. truly as i said a badass.#and she stuck beside him in those 15 years of painstaking repentance #even as her husband was also dead.#i thought it would've made for a good earthly story that the widower king marries the brave and bold widowed lady #especially since she'd been keeping him in line all those years. ah oh well.

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donaweasley · 3 years

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What If

Pairing: Loki x Fem! Avenger! Reader

Plot:

A silly game of “What-Ifs” between two friends eventually leads to the realisation that the future, if spent together, may not be as bleak as they had anticipated it to be. A dialogue-based best friends-to-lovers cliché.

Warnings: Relationship angst, too many dialogues, long read, happy ending!!!

Read time: ~28 mins

Author's Note:

It's a long read with far more dialogues than can be deemed healthy. The reason is, I didn't want their arc to feel rushed. It had to be cooked slow. Another reason is that, I can't help hearing my characters, and it triggers a flood of dialogues! I'm trying to work on controlling it. 😬 Hope you enjoy!

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

“C’mon! You’re breaking the rules now,” Loki casually waved his hand at his best friend.

“I’m not. There’s nothing to answer really,” (Y/N) replied with a shrug.

“There must be something on your mind!”

She pretended to think for a second, and shook her head.

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

It was a usual night in the compound. It was just another night when one of these two friends had called the other in the middle of the night for some midnight snack. It was just another of those happy times when they had tiptoed into the kitchen like thieves because...no, no one would mind some missing nachos or ice creams, but because it was fun!

It wasn’t easy for Loki to open up to someone, let alone to allow the other person in. Neither was it easy for (Y/N) to trust somebody, given her past, especially when that somebody was infamous for betraying almost everyone, at every step, not to mention his attempts at ruling Earth and causing massacre.

But time is a healer and a magician.

And here they were now, looking at the moon-washed night life through the west-facing glass wall, and playing a game of “what-ifs”. One would say that it was silly and immature; some would even call their talks gibberish. But when the night was so relaxed and carefree, why wouldn’t they be?

The pale yellow orb hovering above the western horizon cast a soft ray of light through the glass wall. Oblivious to its movements across the room, Loki and (Y/N) were wrapped in a thin blanket on a couch, their feet resting on two separate pouffes.

It had all started with a silly question, something like, “What if you weren’t stuck in this building tonight?”, or something along those lines; they didn’t even remember correctly anymore.

One question led to the other, and soon they found themselves tangled in a game of questions that would have been enough to create an alternate reality. But eventually, they found themselves, not answering with imaginary scenarios, but debating over one particular question:

“What if you find the love of your life tomorrow?”

This question was posed by Loki, rather theatrically, amidst the many others that had tossed different possibilities of their near future. And it was here that (Y/N) refused to play along anymore because, as she stated, it was “the most silly question ever”.

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

“So, you claim that my question is even worse than your ‘What if you were a Jotun cat’? What kind of a question is that anyway?” Loki teased.

“Of course, it is. Undoubtedly!” With one wave of her hand, (Y/N) dismissed his appeal.

“And how is that even logical, may I know?”

“C’mon, this entire game is out of the boundaries of logic,” she claimed. “Your behaviour is like that of a cat. Don’t make that face; it brings you closer to being a cat. And...a Jotun cat sounds cool!”

Loki sighed. “And my question is ridiculous! If the game is beyond all reason, then...” he shrugged, “say something...weird, and move on!”

“Fine! If I-if... If I meet the love of my life tomorrow,...I’ll stab him. Or her. Or them. I don’t even know.” She huffed.

“Ouch!” Loki made a face, ”Didn’t see that coming. I would enjoy the stabbing part though. Thank the Norns, you never declared your feelings for me!”

She looked at him sideways with a stern face. Loki noticed the irritation simmering just beneath her skin, ready to burst out at the next prodding.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her arm, “what happened? Was it something I said?”

She turned her face away. But Loki wasn’t giving up that easily.

“(Y/N),” he gently tugged at her arm, “look at me.”

When she finally turned towards him, he held her by the shoulders just to make sure that she couldn’t move away again.

“Now, you’ll tell me everything. What happened?” He inquired again. “I thought you were having fun.”

“It’s nothing Loki, it’s just that...you know I don’t like discussing my non-existent love-life. It’s...it kind of makes me...sad sometimes. Especially in a setting like this!” She waved her hands at her surroundings. “I mean, look at it, a full moon, a silent night, blankets and… It just leaves me with this reminder that I’ll be alone all my bloody life!”

Loki’s hands slowly retracted from her form and folded themselves on his chest. And just like that, they both found themselves staring out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s voice audibly reflected the guilt that had formed within, “I never intended to...”

“No, you shouldn’t be. It’s...I overreacted. I’m sorry, Loki. I just ruined the mood. Shit! And it’s not my hormones, mind you!”

“I know,” Loki chuckled. “And you did not ruin anything. It’s natural to feel, isn’t it?”

She looked at him with a raised brow, “Somebody’s learning!”

“Somebody’s got a good teacher,” he smiled.

“Aww!! I love it when you acknowledge my awesomeness!” She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in closer, and pinched his cheek.

“Ugh! Let go of me! Let...go!!”

The room was filled with (Y/N)’s cackles and Loki’s threats as he wriggled out of her grip.

“Do that one more time, and I’ll stab you!”

But it wasn’t enough to stop her chortles.

“Would you now?” she teased, and raised her hands again in a faux attempt at squeezing his cheeks.

He swatted them away.

“Stop it!” He warned again, only to emanate snorts from her.

But the next second, his voice changed into a compassionate one, “Why do you think you’ll be alone all your life? How old are you anyway? 80? 90? Isn’t that supposed to be old in human years?”

Once again her cheerful mood fled behind a thick curtain of annoyance. But this time she did not look away. She simply rolled her eyes, and pulled her legs from the pouffe to sit cross-legged, and shifted to face him.

“No, I’m not that old. But why are you suddenly so interested in this topic?”

“Because suddenly, you seem to have found an interest in getting annoyed.”

“Then don’t annoy me.”

“Not in my nature, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t decide whether to hit him or laugh at him.

“Loki-” She curled her fists and shut her eyes.

“I’m listening, darling,” he smirked.

Of course, she knew how stubborn Loki could be!

Who else would know that better than me?

“Okay,” she placed her palms flat on her thighs, “the thing is...I can never make a relationship last more than two years. I waste my time trying to establish a...a proper, long-lasting relationship - something permanent - and end up with a heartbreak. Every. Fucking. Time. I’ve given up. I’ve had enough! Now, even if anyone makes a move, or if I’m interested in someone, I just remind myself that it’s not gonna work! I just don’t put any effort anymore.”

Loki hummed in response; his eyes were focused on her as if he was trying to decipher a mystery.

“And,” she continued, “given my current ‘job’,” she air-quoted the word, “I’m more sure than ever that no one will last more than two months now!”

Once she voiced the storm in her head, her eyes softened and she looked down at her lap. Through hooded eyes, she stole a guilty, fleeting glance at her friend, who seemed to be musing about something really serious. His eyes were strained on the carpet, while his chin rested on a fisted hand balancing itself on his thigh.

For a long moment neither said anything. Only the distant buzz of the sleepless city floated through the air and filled the room.

It was Loki who disrupted the silence with a long and heavy sigh.

“I knew that Midgardian men were impatient, narcissistic-”

“Look who’s talking,” she smirked as she interrupted him.

He gave her a quick deadpanned stare before resuming, “-imbeciles, but I was beginning to think that they have good tastes in women. It’s disappointing, not surprising though, that they have proven me wrong.”

A small laugh almost made its way to its escape, but she pushed it back. “You think so?” She quipped.

He shrugged, “From what you’ve said, there is no reason to think otherwise.”

She sat a little straighter. “Really? Do go on!”

Loki immediately noticed the effect that he had planned for. Without giving away the joy of his small triumph, he continued, “Indeed! Look at you! You’re an amazing woman! You’re brave, witty, independent...smart...excellent with knives! And that’s my favourite thing about you, by the way. ”

Feigning offence, she exclaimed, “And I thought your favourite thing about me was that I tolerate all your tantrums, and keep up with your shenanigans.”

“I don’t throw tantrums, darling,” he pushed the accusation away with his silky tone, “and don’t tell me that you take no pleasure in the havoc that we wreck together.”

At this, she could no longer suppress the evil grin that spread across her face, “I do love a bit of chaos. It’s fun.”

“To think of it,” Loki added excitedly, “had you been on Asgard, you might have been the Goddess of Chaos!”

“Oh! Thank you!” She replied with a dramatic wave of her hands.

Both laughed at the way their words were unfolding.

“Thank you, Loki,” (Y/N) said after their little whirlwind of laughter had calmed down, “I guess I needed to hear something nice about myself. It’s been a long, long time since I heard it.”

“I meant every word of it,” he replied in a solemn tone that made something flutter in her chest.

Was it gratitude? Was it joy? Was it love for her best friend?

It was hard to tell. It seemed to be everything at once.

She simply smiled at him. “Even the ‘Goddess of Chaos’ part?”

“Especially that part,” he asserted, and she laughed.

“You’re the best, Loki!” She gave him a half hug.

“That, I definitely am. But you’re not too shabby yourself. And you should never ever be sad for someone else’s failure.”

“Alright, I get what you’re trying to do here,” she landed a playful punch to his shoulder. “I’m fine! Really! I just got a little carried away.”

“No, I really mean it,” he tried to assure her. “You are one of the most magnificent women I have known! And mind you, I’m rather picky in these cases.”

She laughed, “Of course, I’d know that! ... Loki, it’s...it’s alright. Some people just don’t have it in them to sustain relationships no matter how wonderful they are. I’m okay with it.”

“Come on! A narcissistic God is showering you with genuine compliments! And you’re still not convinced that it’s not your fault but of all those who failed to keep up with you?”

She tried another attempt at convincing him, “It works both ways.”

“Norns! I can’t believe you’re so foolish!”

“Enlighten me, please,” she drawled.

“I believe I have already established the fact that you are phenomenal.”

When she giggled and nodded, he carried on.

“Good. Now, your job, as you put it, shouldn’t be a hindrance in your relationship. You’re doing the marvellous job of being a guardian to thousands of people. People you don’t even know! How many would put their necks out there to do it?”

“C’mon, Loki, when duty calls, you have to leave everything behind and just go! Who’d tolerate that for days? They will snap one day.”

“I’d never do that!” Realizing his mistake, he quickly corrected himself, “What I mean is, had I been in their place, I’d have never done that.”

“That’s because you’re on the team,” she argued. “So, it’s normal to you.”

“No, it’s not because I’m on the team. I’d-” He sighed. “Fine, why don’t you try finding someone from this field? Stark’s parties are a great place to hunt humans.”

“‘Hunt humans’?” She snorted, “I like the sound of that. Nay, haven’t found anyone. Besides, mixing professional and personal life can be fatal. You never know when your personal life might get jeopardised because of a mission gone wrong. Y’know, the usual blame-game and all. I hate all that!”

Loki brooded over her words for a few seconds before asking, “I don’t get it. Why would it be fatal? I mean, look at us,” he gestured in between them. “We have a perfect understanding. We’d never blame the other for any petty thing. Or-or let it affect our friendship.”

“That’s because we have the perfect understanding, Loki! You said it yourself. It’s a rare thing that we have. And I can’t expect it to be with anyone else. They’re not you, Loki.”

“They’re not us,” he corrected her.

Joy seeped through his senses as he watched her face brighten up at his words.

With a nod, she continued, “You see, all that spark, excitement, promises - these sound really great at the beginning. As time passes, as the real world pushes in, love moves to the backseat. Love is not enough. There comes a time when you have to balance everything together, and love becomes one of those things. It becomes a chore.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” Loki stated with a frown. “That sounds so sad!”

“It is!”

“Well, it shouldn’t be! Loving you shouldn’t be a chore! Let’s say...hypothetically...if I’m in love with you, then you’d be my passion. And passions never become a duty, not even in the worst of times. Instead, they help us breathe when everything comes caving in. You’d be my...my moment of peace in a war. How could I not be tempted to embrace this beautiful moment?”

“Unfortunately, Loki, that’s not how it works. See, when you have a lot on your plate, say your job, your dreams, your daily life and all the pressure that comes with these, you’ll find less and less time for your loved one. Things get hectic and eventually frustrating. You won’t be able to keep that flame alive even if you want to. And one day, you’ll come to realize that you have distanced yourself from your moment, even if you never wanted to. But it’d be too late. There’d be no going back.”

“I’d never distance myself from you! I mean, from my moment. I’ve been a king, and I know how taxing royal duties can be. Sometimes, it seemed like a luxury to get even a minute to myself.”

“See? So, how could you have found time for me?”

“I would have, darling. Not plenty, but whatever little time I’d have gathered, I’d have made them memorable. For you. For us. And maybe we could have gone on long rides occasionally. Rekindle the old flames? Or-or we could have gone on visits to other realms...for political reasons, of course, but could have taken the opportunity to spend a small vacation with each other. What do you say?”

Painfully tempting images of a life that could have been floated in her eyes.

“And what if we came back to Earth, and I got involved in...say, a job that was all hectic and left me all frustrated, and with little time for you?” She shrugged.

With a sigh, Loki shifted to face her fully. “We will take care of each other, (Y/N). If one gets low, the other pulls both up. And I know that together, we can do anything! I believe in you more than I believe in myself.”

She smiled brightly as she acknowledged, “That is...that sounds doable, yes.”

“You’re special,” he placed a hand on her cheek, “and you need to be treated in the most special manner. One that befits my queen.”

A moment passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes, both seeing the same beautiful picture.

His queen!

My queen!!

Wait, what is he...?

Damn! What am I doing! What will she...!

Loki cleared his throat as he abruptly pulled his hand back to his side.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“No, it’s okay,” she cringed at the way the words squeaked out of her. Clearing her throat, she continued, “We were just giving examples.”

“Yes, just examples,” he agreed.

“It’s fine! I understand.”

“Great! It’d have been quite...awkward...otherwise.”

“Oh no! It’s...uh...totally fine. We’re best buddies!” She gave his arm a light punch.

“Right!” He nodded, and focused his gaze on the floor.

After taking a minute to calm his heart, he wore his witty persona back.

“See, having a relationship is not at all tough. All you need is a good partner. And I’ve proved myself right again! No, wait. There’s something you mortals do. It’s...uh...about throwing something...”

“Goblets? We don’t do that. It’s you-”

“No, not throwing, it’s about dropping something...after you have proven a point...”

“...Mic drop?” She chuckled.

His eyes lit up.

“Yes! ‘Mic drop’. So, as I was saying, all you need to have a happy and successful relationship is a good partner. Mic drop!” He concluded as he mimicked the action.

She sighed. “There’s just one tiny problem. I’d probably never find the right person. The ones that flirt with me, don’t understand me, and the ones that understand me have friendzoned me.”

“I’ve never friendzoned you,” Loki quickly replied with a frown. “J-Just clarifying...in case you were talking about me.”

“Of course, I’m talking about you, you big oaf!” She flicked his arm.

“Hey! You friendzoned me.”

“No…? It was you! Well, yeah, I never tried to flirt with you or anything but...anybody could see that you were being just my friend.”

“I can say the same about you,” Loki playfully accused.

“Whatever,” she shrugged.

A thought started playing in her mind. And a couple of seconds later, she decided to say it aloud, “I...umm...Just curious...y’know, don’t take it in any other way. Did you ever think of flirting with me?” She put forward each word very cautiously.

Loki furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she warned him, “Be honest!”

Immediately, his confident attitude changed into a helpless one. “Yes, I did. Maybe once. Or twice. But that was all! I assure you!”

She could hardly contain the amusement that was bubbling inside.

“What’s so funny about it?” Loki asked with furrowed brows.

“Nothing,” she shook her head as she tried to hold back her laughter, “nothing at all. It’s,” and then she lost it, “I’m sorry! It’s funny! I don’t know why, I find it funny hearing from you!”

“Look who’s laughing!” He said wryly. “I could clearly hear your thoughts the first few days after I stepped into this structure. Every compliment that your little mind cooed at my divine persona. And may I dare say that not all of them were decent.”

Her hysterics were long forgotten as her face went red at the comment.

“How dare you invade my mind?” Her hand had balled into a fist, ready to hit his arm when he caught it.

“I didn’t invade it, darling. You were practically shouting inside that pretty head of yours. I could have heard it from the other side of the planet!”

“That was a long time ago,” she refused to meet his eyes. “I make better choices and better decisions now.”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it without uttering a syllable, and crossed her arms.

Loki nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, it’s fun to tease you. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I hate you,” she peeked at him through the corner of her eye.

“What can I say,” Loki sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”

She smirked as she glanced at him sideways.

Loki cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle manner. “So, the next time Stark throws a party, I’ll find someone for you.”

Immediately, she face-palmed, and groaned, “No.”

“What?”

“Please drop this topic. And you’d probably find me a psychopath, anyway” She joked.

“That hurt!” Loki exclaimed with a hurt look masking his humour, “do you think so little of me? Can’t I find a proper partner for my best friend, my darling?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. Don’t fake it. I know you better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t. You-”

“I do. And...I’m fine, Loki” she reassured him, “being with myself, with the people here, being with you.” She gently bumped her knee into his.

“Will these be enough?” His tone had left the playfulness behind. “Will I be enough? For all your life?”

She shrugged, “I think so. You...stick with me all the time, you understand me, you...make me feel good. What more could I want to be happy?”

“You know what more you are missing. A friend can never touch the boundaries of what a lover can give you.”

“I don’t need a lover. Just be with me all my life, and I won’t need anyone else.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I will. I promise.”

Her playful smile was back. “Thanks for all the pep talk, my dearest God. But turns out that I’m better off alone. Now can we please go back to the game? It’s my turn to ask you.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, “if you say so.”

“Stop saying that!” A defeated sigh left her. “You won’t be convinced, will you?”

“Probably not. Because I know that this will gnaw at you again a few days later. I know you’ll be sad again. And that I won’t allow on my watch.”

“God!”

“Right here, listening to you!” Loki quipped.

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ”Damn you!” And proceeded to put forward a proper argument.

“The reason why I’m avoiding a new relationship is because I don’t want another heartache. I can’t handle breakups. That’s why I’m...”

When Loki didn’t make another attempt at dissuading her from her arguments, she added, “I just...try everything to avoid a heartbreak. Because when I get one, I lose control over myself.”

“Yes, I’ve seen. Once.”

“Then you must have noticed how vicious I become. Sarcasm drips from my mouth all the time, I say things that I shouldn’t, I...I hurt people. And in turn, I hurt myself. I yell at those who want nothing but good for me. But...”

“But being mean seems to be the only way to mask the pain,” he finished her line.

“It does, yes!”

She looked at him, and into his eyes that silently spoke of the pain that was resurfacing. She remembered something.

“You and I are so...alike!”

He nodded with a smile. “And maybe that is why we understand each other more than anyone ever could. … But we’re more than just being alike, if you think about it.”

She noticed how his voice gradually rose from its usual calmness to an excited tone, and his hands moved with his words.

Loki continued, “You point out my mistakes but don’t accuse me like everyone else does. You show me what’s right. And there’s this-this thing about you, which is so scary...the way you make me do all the things that you want. I-I mean, I am the God here! But you…a mortal...how can you have so much power over me?”

He sighed as his voice dropped to a compassionate tone, “You make me happy, (Y/N). You’ve taught me to forgive when I can, to forget what I can’t fix.”

“Don’t always do that,” she interrupted with a smirk.

His evil smile made a brief appearance before he resumed his warm note, “I like being with you. No...I love being with you! You make me feel good. You make me feel...I don’t know.... You make me feel…”

“Complete?”

“Yes!” He observed her, “You complete me.”

For yet another time, silence enveloped them. The only difference was that this time, it was comfortable. Even in their hushed moments, they could hear each other, know what the other wanted to say.

After a while of exchanging quiet stares, (Y/N) spoke, “All this time I believed, but now I know for myself, that you are indeed Silvertongue!”

Loki looked at his lap and laughed, but in the pale light of the setting moon, she noticed the pink that had crept up his ears and cheeks.

“I meant every word of what I said,” he reassured her once again that evening.

“I know, Loki.”

Loki watched her as she shifted to a kneeling position, and leaned towards him. He felt his face becoming hotter as she supported herself on his shoulder with one hand, and placed a soft kiss on his cheekbone.

As she settled back, her lips tingled with the memory of Loki’s skin on it.

They had been best friends, yes, but she had never allowed herself more than a quick hug because she knew that Loki wasn’t someone open to random touches. And she wanted to respect that. Always.

But this peck felt right. It felt necessary. And it felt...different.

What happened next wasn’t guided by logic anymore, but only by their senses.

Loki put his legs back on the pouffe, and scooted a little closer to (Y/N). Taking the cue, she shifted so that her leg was stretched out, and back on the pouffe - not on hers but his - and sat close to him. He arranged the blanket so that it covered them both again.

Another stretch of silence enveloped them. To them, the moment was beautiful. To Loki, who had never experienced anything similar before, it was precious. If he could stop time, he would have done it right then and there.

“Why haven’t you found anyone yet?” She asked him.

“Royalty has its disadvantages,” he replied without taking a moment to think.

She leaned back slightly to get a good look at his face, “Didn’t you ever find anyone from the royal...uh...what do you call it? Of royal blood?”

Loki laughed at her naivety. “Can’t say I didn’t. But none of them were the one. Besides, most people chose my handsome brother over me. And if anyone chose me, well, it was mostly because of my royal title. None of them were real.”

“That’s awful! I would never have done that to you! I’d have chosen you for the wonderful being that you are. But, I get it; happens on our planet, too.”

“Everywhere,” he asserted.

“So...who do you think is the one for you?”

He looked down at her face, which was mere inches away from his. For the first time in months of their friendship, he felt something swell inside his chest at the closeness.

“I still don’t know,” he whispered, “but I think the Norns might have started giving me clues.”

He didn’t need to explain, obviously. All the tension that had been building up throughout the night had placed them both on the same page.

Without thinking, Loki moved his wrist so that his palm was facing the ceiling. And instinctively, (Y/N) placed her hand in it, their fingers closing around each other.

"It's odd," she announced after a while.

"Indeed."

"It's weird. I mean, what were we even thinking!" She huffed, although she was still clutching his hand, as was he holding hers.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You and me?” Loki laughed nervously, “Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Right".

Silence, their faithful companion for the night, visited them once again.

"Could it be? You and me?" Loki’s voice was a little more than a whisper, and bordered on the edge of confidence and doubt.

"Doesn't sound so bad. Not after all these... Talks?" She whispered back.

"Right!"

"Right."

And once again, they fell quiet.

The strangeness of the moment pushed them both into a whirlpool of thoughts. From acquaintances to partners to friends to best friends to...lovers?

Can this even be possible? What if it’s just a passing phase? What if everything goes back to normal tomorrow? Will we still be able to talk normally? But… This feels right. Just...right.

With a sigh, (Y/N) put her head on Loki’s shoulder.

"I don't want to rush into anything and ruin what we have," she confessed in a hushed tone, eyes staring into the night outside.

"Neither do I. You're the only one I have."

With a raised brow, she looked up at him.

"And Thor," he corrected himself with a small smile.

"Glad you remember him "

"Shut up.

Slowly, hesitantly, Loki put his free hand around her. Unsure of the appropriateness of the action, he kept his arm loosely hanging around her frame.

He waited for a while. Had Loki looked at her face, instead of looking straight ahead in fear, he would have noticed the small smile that had formed on her lips.

When she didn’t flinch or protest, he began to rest his arm properly but gently on her. He even went ahead and made the slightest possible effort to pull her closer to him.

The smile that had started forming on her now spread wide enough to turn into a grin. Its reflection was found on Loki’s face, too, who could finally muster the courage to look at her, although he was equally worried that she would be able to hear his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

With every minute that passed, Loki became more baffled, for he couldn’t decide which moment he’d frame and hang on the wall of his heart as the most precious one.

"Are you feeling hot?" She asked without looking at him.

"A bit, yes. You, too?"

"Quite a bit, actually," she gulped.

"Is it normal?"

"I guess, yes. Totally! Had we been cool about it, it'd have meant that there's no spark between us. It’d have felt awkward, wrong."

"So, you agree that there's a spark between us?" He didn’t even attempt to hide the mischievous smirk that shone on his face.

"I had always suspected," she nodded.

"Hmm. When was the last time we went out for dinner?" He asked.

“Probably last month...or was it-”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up to look at him. She could barely put a lid on her excitement.

"Are you proposing to take me out on a date?"

"Well, if we are going to do this, then I'd like to court you properly."

She felt like she'd burst out of sheer excitement.

"If you'd agree to it, that is" Loki clarified.

Taking a large breath, she replied, "I'd love it."

The night was going better than either had expected. Who would have thought that a game of weird questions and a few confessions could change their lives!

(Y/N) put her head back on his shoulder, and let her body slump against him. He held her confidently this time.

“It still feels weird though,” she declared.

“It does, yes, but...maybe this is...right?” In a long time, Loki was hopeful about something, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. No.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

“Just so you know,” she sat up straight, “Thor is handsome, yes, but you are devilishly charming. You’re intelligent, well-read, witty, sarcastic, great at combat...uh...”

“Go on,” Loki smirked, earning a playful glare from her.

“You are,” she continued, “seductive! And who can resist a sorcerer who knows his way around everything!”

The evil smile that Loki had put away found its way back on his face. “As far as I remember, I did nothing to seduce you. I wonder what will happen if I try...”

“Shut up, Loki! You know I give away raw compliments. I didn’t really mean...I didn’t think...”

He laughed heartily at the furious way she was blushing.

“I was only pulling your leg. I had imagined you to be wise,” he clarified.

“I am! It’s just... I was...” She shook her head.

“So,” Loki resumed, “you think I’m devilishly charming?”

“Drop the topic, please!”

“You can’t resist my sorcery, ha?”

“Please change the topic! Forget what I said!!”

Loki laughed as he continued teasing her. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride, she realized, with the God of Mischief, but it was going to be the best ever!

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it was your turn to ask but, what if...you and I are indeed meant to be together?”

She smiled as she rubbed her cheek on his shirt, “I think we’ll have a gorgeous future together. And...I’d love that more than anything else.”

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

The next morning...

“Morning, Wanda-”

“Shh! Shh!!” The red-haired witch silenced Natasha, and pointed towards the couch.

Curious, Natasha’s eyes followed the direction that Wanda’s finger was pointing at.

There, snuggled in a blanket, fast asleep, sat (Y/N) and Loki, their legs spread on a pouffe, tangled with each other’s. Loki’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder while she was holding his waist. Her head lay on his chest and his on hers.

“Aren’t they cute?” Wanda whispered.

Before Nat could reply, Tony’s voice cut the conversation.

“Who’s cute?”

This time, both the ladies shushed him, leaving a perplexed expression on his once sleepy face.

When they pointed towards the couch, Tony huffed, “These two! God knows what’s taking them so long to realise! They’re just so-” His face lit up. “Know what? I have an idea! I’ll make them confess. Who’s up for it?”

***

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

And...a song for keeping the feelings floating...💕

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