#i'm turning over stones like 'surely the excited fandom is hiding here' and then it's 3 bugs with an anti-izzy pamphlet

[ladyluscinia]

I know my last experience with a season ending on a note everyone hated and unanimously tore to fucking shreds for destroying the story on every level was... atypical. Lockdown. 6 month mass hysteria at minimum. Conspiracy theories that were, like, real things we had on camera. There was a Twitter wedding. Creative fervor that broke 100k fics on AO3.

Like. I know this is not a rational point of comparison and I'm not going to expect anything in my lifetime to match it 🤣

But.

If that was the highest high of post-season fandom engagement built on a cocktail of tasting everything you ever wanted AND the absolutely lethal levels of spite and swearing to eat showrunners' hearts in the marketplace, then whatever the fuck is going on after OFMD S2 is the opposite of that.

OFMD S1 was a huge fandom explosion. One silly little streaming show that had a gay kiss and then it skyrocketed. Fic numbers were soaring, high activity fic and meta engagement lasted for at least four months, it was constantly trending and flooding the dash... Like, fucking hell, over a year and a half after the immediate finale fervor it beat Stucky in the top ships bracket?!? To the point I was willing to give it what felt like due credit toward its potential as a future juggernaut ship. Not guaranteed, of course, but the potential was there.

In that context, new content should be a blow out party. Which it kinda was pulling off as it was airing, but looking back now? Not even quite a month later?

The effect of S2 on the fandom is like... a blip. Possibly over already.

New fic numbers started dropping off the moment the finale aired and have returned to deep hiatus levels. It's dropped off trending and streaming leaderboards... I'm very curious to see the first tumblr Week in Review since the finale, though we're still waiting due to the holiday.

Like, I've even popped on to scroll a few Izzy hater blogs that I know loved the finale out of morbid curiosity what they were up to, and I'm telling you... if I hadn't just watched the new season I'd think they were still over a year into hiatus. Saw some standard bitching about the izcourse / Edward takes (aka the one thing that kept them going all hiatus), they're currently passing around posts mocking one specific long OFMD version of TJLC I'm just hearing of, the same BTS gifsets everyone else is thrilled by... But barely any new meta or discussions. There's like 2 people posting actual analysis of S2 that's getting reblogged and they aren't even names I recognize from the hiatus. Nor is it particularly interesting to read. 🤷‍♀️

In July of 2022 I could pop onto a random OFMD blog and scroll through a dozen enthusiastic Stede or BlackBonnet metas about jacket colors or that moth from 1x07 or lighthouse symbolism or whatever. Now the new stuff has the same energy as posts from June 2023. It's borderline dead. And this is what it's like when there's an active campaign to engage fandom and Renew as a Crew?

(I will say fanartists are bringing some energy and there's some lovely pieces being passed around, which I do think the Renew as a Crew campaign is helping to boost?)

Even the hundreds of people saying it was a beautiful season and they loved it so much don't seem to be finding it a very engaging or inspiring season.

It's such a turn, like, what the fuck.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

But I'm Only Looking At You: Part One

A/N: It's officially here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I'm super excited to see all the amazing content that everyone will be sharing this week, and I'm extra excited to share this fic with you all. We may be stretching the prompts with this, but doesn't that make it more fun! I mean, Rhys visits Cassian in this first chapter, so doesn't that fit the Brother theme? Maybe? A very big shout-out to @separatist-apologist who so graciously gave me this prompt. This fic is dedicated especially to you, fandom-sanctioned bestie! :)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Don’t say yes, run away now. I’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door

Three Years Ago

Cassian’s eyes flit across the grass that stretches out across the meadow. The tall, green stalks sway gently in the early summer breeze, twisting and twining together like dancers moving to the melody of the wind. Purple and white wildflowers bloom in small batches, a burst of color against the blue sky overhead. A willow tree stands tall and proud beside the small creek that burbles and weaves its way around the dirt and stones, and sitting beneath it, half hidden by the drooping branches, is Nesta.

Just where he expects to find her.

He takes a moment to admire her, the sight already stealing the breath straight from his lungs, already pulling a soft smile across his face. She has her knees curled up toward her chest, a book balanced perfectly on her knees, her head bowed over the pages as she devours the words. The rays of sunlight that break through the leaves and branches of the willow cut across her in golden streaks. It leaves the braid of her hair looking like a true crown of burnished gold, and Cassian knows once he gets closer, he’ll be able to count every faint freckle that’s sunkissed across her skin too.

It’s on quiet feet that Cassian makes his way over to her, using the sounds of the water to his advantage as he follows along the creek until he reaches the willow. He curls around the trunk of the tree until he can peer down over Nesta’s shoulder, until he can watch her deft fingers turn yet another page in her book.

“Hello, Nes.”

Cassian is slightly disappointed when Nesta doesn’t jump at his voice, but when she lets out a long sigh, his smile grows wide again. He steps around and settles in the spot beside her, daring to sit close enough that his shoulder brushes against hers. Nesta doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even bother looking up from her book, but Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips are slightly pinched.

In the years that he’s known Nesta Archeron, he’s learnt every one of her expressions, every look, every tell. He’s categorized them all and tucked them close to his heart. The long withering sigh to hide a soft, amused laugh. The pinched lips to keep away the fond smile. The way those blue gray eyes of hers will blaze and narrow at him until his heart is skipping over itself in excitement.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Cassian asks innocently, reaching forward and tugging one of the wildflowers free from the ground.

“I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Nesta shoots back, and though Cassian can’t quite see her face from his spot beside her, he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes at him.

“Well, then, don’t let me disturb that,” Cassian tells her, neatly tucking the flower into the braid of her hair.

“Oh, believe me. I don’t intend to.”

Cassian has to bite back a smirk at the remark. Nesta always has to have the last word. He stretches his hands back behind his head, leaning against the trunk of the willow and letting his eyes flutter shut. He counts the second in his mind, already feeling Nesta’s annoyance growing with each passing second of silence. His blood practically sings in anticipation, leaping at the chance for another round of their game.

Nesta snaps her book closed loudly. “What do you want, Cassian?”

“Can’t I just enjoy your company?”

“Last time I checked, the only thing you enjoy is the sound of your own voice.”

Cassian chuckles, but he sits up properly again. “I had my final lessons today. My boarding school days are officially behind me.”

Nesta finally turns to look at him properly, and she leaves Cassian feeling as breathless as she did the first time he met her. She’s so damned beautiful, and Cassian is so enraptured that he almost misses what she says next.

“And have you decided on Cambridge or Oxford?”

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, dropping his gaze to his hands before he explains, “neither. My father has fallen ill, and now that I’ve finished my schooling, I’ll be returning home to learn the trade and prepare to take over for him.”

“I see.”

Cassian looks up at her again, his eyes tracking the flower that still sits in her braid. The softness to her blue eyes that he swears only he gets to see. Those constellations of pale freckles that he knows must be echoed across her skin elsewhere. A strand of hair has fallen free from her updo, tumbling down along her temple, and Cassian’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside.

One day. One day, he’ll be able to, he’s sure of it. He swears it. One day, he’ll have fully taken over the family business, will have made a name for himself, and he’ll speak to her father and finally ask the question that burns on the tip of his tongue.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Cassian asks instead.

Nesta lets out another long sigh. “And what if I don’t wish to write to you?”

“I’ll just have to write to you then. I’m sure you’ll miss our witty repartee.”

“I assure you that is not what I will miss.”

Cassian smirks, daring to ask, “my handsome face, then?”

“You are quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Nesta snaps, clambering up to her feet.

Cassian jumps to his feet as well. He catches Nesta’s hand before she can walk too far, stopping her steps. Her eyes snap down to the contact, fingers flexing for just a moment, a pretty dusting of pink spilling across her cheeks.

“Promise you’ll write, Nes,” Cassian requests, his voice quiet.

He’s not above begging, would drop to his knees right there in the meadow for anything she’s willing to give him. His fingers slide along her wrist where her hand is still clasped in his, and he swears he can feel her heart fluttering away beneath that touch. He wonders if she knows the way she holds his.

“I promise.”

~ * * * ~

Today

Cassian rushes down the main staircase of his home just as Mrs Reynolds closes the front door with a soft snick. His heart pounds away between his ribs, pressing a lump up into his throat, but he uses all his willpower not to let his nerves show. He clenches his hands tightly into fists and plasters on his best, easy smile as Mrs Reynolds turns back around, not a lick of surprise on her face when she sees Cassian waiting eagerly.

“Any letter today?” Cassian asks, praying the desperation licking through his veins doesn’t bleed into his tone.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mrs Reynolds apologizes, sympathy lining her brown eyes. “Nothing today again.”

Cassian nods, not even bothering to try and push words out. He beelines for the kitchen, quickly grabbing some food before locking himself away in his office. He falls heavily into his chair, letting out a long breath. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers getting caught in the tangled strands which only adds to the dark storm cloud brewing in his chest. He feels stupid, but there’s no stopping the way his heart twists and squeezes, betraying the emotions he’s trying desperately to shove back down.

Even worse, he can’t seem to shut up that voice that claws its way through the back of his mind. It digs in and won’t let up, dark whispers feeding into Cassian’s every insecurity. He still remembers every word, every name, he heard back when he was in boarding school, from the boys, from their mothers. It didn’t matter that his family had money, didn’t matter that his father had made a name for them, didn’t matter the factories they had and everything they produced. He would always be looked down upon by all that old money of London.

With another sigh, Cassian finally shakes himself and pulls his papers close to him, determined to get some work done and take his mind off those swirling thoughts and swirling emotions. He scratches out a reply to one of his suppliers, but as soon as Cassian has signed his name, his hand pauses, grip tightening on his pen.

His gaze dances down to the bottom drawer of his desk. Taunting him. Beckoning him.

He shakes his head and goes back to writing out another response, but he barely makes it halfway through before once again his eyes are drawn to that damned drawer. Cassian lets out a groan and tosses his pen aside. He yanks open the drawer and pulls out the letters stacked neatly inside.

Just as he’s done for the past few weeks, he pulls out the most recent one, dated a month ago. He traces over the lines and loops of the ink on the page, smiling as he once again reads Nesta’s story about her sisters. He tries to find some hint, some clue, to understand Nesta’s sudden silence, the lack of a letter since his last reply, and yet he can’t find one. The letter reads just the same as all the ones she’s been sending since he left London.

A knock at his office door finally pulls Cassian away from Nesta’s letters. He looks up, ready to call out to Mrs Reynolds that he doesn’t need anything, but before he can, the door is opening. Cassian blinks a few times in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Rhys? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Really?” Rhys teases, stepping fully into the office and settling easily into one of the chairs opposite Cassian with all the casual grace of a Duke. “That’s how you greet me?”

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cassian chuckles slightly. “It’s just unlike you to travel all this way. What could have possibly pulled you away from London? And without a letter informing me either.”

“I can’t simply want to come visit one of my closest friends?”

“Rhys.”

Rhys lets out a soft sigh, shifting in his seat. The serious look that takes over his face has Cassian’s stomach dropping. There’s been only a very few instances that Cassian has seen that expression on his friend’s face, and none of those times ended well.

“It didn’t feel right putting this in a letter,” Rhys begins, leaning forward and meeting Cassian’s gaze head on. “I’ve known you since we were kids in school together, and you know I see you and Az like brothers.”

“You’re starting to worry me, Rhys.”

“I care about you, Cass. And I know you. I know how you feel about Nesta Archeron, how you’ve felt about her for years, so I want you to hear it from me… she’s engaged now.”

For a moment, Cassian swears the world stops tilting beneath his feet. Everything comes lurching to a hard and painful stop, throwing him off balance and sending him spiraling down and down. There’s a ringing that takes up home in Cassian’s ears, a lump pressing into his windpipe until he feels like he can’t breathe.

“What?” Cassian chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Everything he had ever built up in his mind shatters right there, right before his very eyes. The way he imagined finally going back to London this summer, courting Nesta properly and the way she deserves outside his letters. The way he planned to speak with her father to officially ask for her hand. The way he could perfectly picture Nesta here, in this house, with him.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys continues, offering a sympathetic grimace. “It was only just announced, and I had no idea she was being courted, or I would have told you sooner.”

“I guess that explains why her letters stopped,” Cassian grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. “So, who’s the lucky gentleman?”

“Tomas Mandray.”

The humorless laugh tears free from Cassian before he can stop it. “That prick we went to school with? And Nesta agreed to his proposal?”

“Her father did. Tomas is a Viscount following his own father’s passing.”

“I’m sure no one misses him. We all knew what type of man he was.”

“Rumor has it Tomas is the same.”

That comment has Cassian’s fists clenching, anger beginning to simmer just beneath his skin. Everything within him rebels at that idea, at Nesta being subjected to someone like the fucking Mandrays. His own soul seems to snarl and growl in agreement, instincts screaming at him to do something, to stop this, to protect her.

Cassian stands up and starts gathering all of the papers and things he’ll need to spend time away in London. “Have they already started reading the Banns?”

“Tomas has apparently put in for a Bishop’s License instead,” Rhys explains, eyeing Cassian with narrowed eyes as he moves around the office. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

“How do you feel about a party?”

~ * * * ~

The music of the string quartet stationed in the corner wafts through the ballroom, the light, lilting melody swirling amongst the sea of bodies in the room, around the crystal chandelier hanging high above their heads. It seems all of London’s best has come out to Velaris estate, all dripping in the latest fashion and practically clamoring for some gossip as much as excitement.

The newest ladies to be out in society and their mothers circle around the ballroom like sharks on the hunt, some even daring to eye up Cassian where he stands, but he only has attention for one woman tonight. His gaze sweeps across the room until he spies her, standing with her youngest sister, Feyre.

She still takes his breath away just as much as the last time he saw her, as the first day he met her. Her hair is styled in her usual braided crown, not a strand or pin out of place, but the golden brown color still glints beneath the chandelier’s lights. Her dress is a deep green color, a shade that contrasts well with her eyes, and there’s the faintest hint of rouge on her cheeks, drawing attention to the cut of her cheekbones.

Cassian has to swallow hard as he watches her across the room. His heart thunders away in his chest, and he can feel the way it wants to lurch right into her waiting hands, can feel the tug right between his ribs drawing him into her. He quickly glances around, but there’s no sign of Tomas Mandray, so with a deep breath to try and calm his fraying nerves, Cassian strides across the ballroom to the only woman he’ll ever want.

“Hello, Nes.”

Nesta’s attention snaps to him at his greeting, her eyes widening for a moment before she schools her expression back into cool indifference. Imperceptibly, her spine straightens, her chin raising that small bit higher, almost in defiance, but Cassian catches it all. Another of her many looks that he’s cataloged, a refusal to back down.

“Cassian,” Nesta offers coolly, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Rhysand and I are good friends, if you’ll recall. Are you that surprised he extended me an invitation?”

“You traveled all the way to London for a House Party?”

Cassian chuckles, not bothering to bite back his smirk. “What can I say, sweetheart? I love a good party.”

Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips pinch slightly together, the flare that sparks through her blue eyes. A tell tale sign that she’s fondly annoyed with him. It has his grin growing, but just as soon as that expression graces her face, it shutters away. He can practically watch as she stacks every icy brick back into place, as the mask slides firmly back on.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening,” Nesta tells him, grabbing Feyre’s elbow and turning them both away.

He’s losing her. She’s going to walk away, vanish amongst the others in attendance, and Cassian knows he won’t see her again. This is his one chance before she slips through his fingers like smoke. His mind scrambles for something to say, something to keep her here, to keep her talking to him, to keep her eyes on him. His eyes land on her wrist.

“Your dance card,” Cassian blurts out before he clears his throat and finds his voice again. “I see your dance card is not yet full for the night.”

Nesta blinks a few times in surprise, glancing down to her own wrist. She tries to pull her arm out of reach, but Cassian is faster, fingers curling around the small booklet. He unfolds it carefully, scrawling his name along the first empty line he sees.

“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Cassian continues, releasing the booklet and daring to let his fingers brush against Nesta’s in the process. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”

“Nesta. Feyre. Where have you two been?”

The cool, clipped tone has Cassian finally tearing his gaze away from Nesta and meeting instead the strict and pinched expression of Eleanor Archeron. Cassian can’t say he’s ever been a big fan of the Archeron matriarch, especially with the way just her presence has Nesta’s spine straightening that inch more, has her fingers curling imperceptibly into the skirts of her dress.

The feeling is clearly mutual. Eleanor’s eyes sweep over Cassian’s frame with clear distaste, not even bothering to hide the way her lip curls. To her, he’s nothing more than a brute, but he refuses to let her ire get to him.

“Lady Archeron,” Cassian greets politely, dipping his chin in a bow.

She doesn’t show him the same courtesy, doesn’t even acknowledge that he said anything at all. Instead, the fingers of her hands curl around Nesta’s and Feyre’s elbows, and Eleanor leads her daughters away without so much as a backwards glance. Cassian can’t help but let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. At least, the night is still young.

At least, he still has his dance with Nesta to look forward to.

Though, it’s agonizing for Cassian to wait for his turn. Especially, since Nesta spends most of the dances partnered with fucking Tomas. It boils his blood watching the way Tomas’s fingers curl possessively into the fabric of Nesta’s dress, the way his hand sits dangerously low along her back, just toeing the line with what’s proper. Even worse is the Viscount’s expression, the knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk tugging up his lips. It’s all savage, male pride, and Cassian’s fists clench hard enough that his nails bite into the palm as Tomas twirls Nesta around the ballroom.

Nesta has always been the best damned thing that ever happened to Cassian. Those stormy, blue eyes had haunted his dreams from the moment they snapped to his gaze, burning with a fire that almost brought him to his knees right then and there. She never backed down from anything he threw at her, going toe to toe with him in a way that only served to further thrill and excite him, that always left him itching to go another round of their back and forth. He lived for every scoff, every eye roll, every haughty jab.

But even more so, he lived for every smile, every laugh he was able to draw out of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first time he ever made Nesta laugh, the way the air was stolen straight from his lungs at that light, melodic sound. He craved it like a starved man after that.

Craved her.

It was Nesta that drove Cassian to study as hard as he did at school, to devour every book and every lesson. Her that drove him to work as hard he did after his father passed, to build up the factories and his family name. To build up himself into the type of man, the type of gentleman, that deserved her.

Unlike Tomas Mandray.

Nesta is the best damned thing to happen to him too, and the bastard clearly doesn’t even realize it, doesn’t appreciate it. He certainly isn’t the type of man to deserve her.

The music of the string quartet comes to an end, and finally, Nesta and Tomas pull apart from one another, Nesta dipping into a polite curtsey. When she straightens again, her eyes scan around the room, landing right on Cassian. Just as it always does, his heart gives a longing pang deep in his chest, and he just hopes it’s not too noticeable on his face.

Rhys and Az have always teased him for the way he tends to wear his heart so plainly on his sleeve. And his chosen brothers have certainly teased him for the way he tends to become a fumbling idiot wherever and whenever Nesta Archeron is concerned. But he’s determined not to fuck it up this time. Determined not to fuck things with her up. This is his chance, and he prays it won’t be his last.

With slow, careful steps, Cassian makes his way across the dance floor of the ballroom, not taking his eyes off Nesta’s face for a moment. When he’s standing before her, he holds his hand out between them, palm up and waiting. Nesta slides her hands into his, and that one simple touch has sparks skating up Cassian’s arm. He gently curls his fingers around hers, relishing in the warmth and weight, in the rightness, of having her hand in his. His other hand slides along her waist to the small of her back, fingers flexing almost subconsciously. He swears he can hear Nesta’s breath hitching in her throat when he tugs her closer, but any sound is drowned out by the string quartet beginning the next song.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Cassian says as he begins to lead them through the steps of the dance with ease. “On your engagement.”

Nesta’s hand tightens minisculely in his, but she gives no other sign that his words have struck a chord, that mask of hers still firmly in place. “Yes. Thank you.”

“How curious that you never mentioned Tomas in any of your letters.” Cassian keeps his tone light, his comment almost idle, but knows he’s hit his mark from the way her mask starts to slip, the way a flame sparks within her eyes, her mouth pinching down in a frown. “So, tell me, what is it you love about him?”

“Excuse me?” Nesta asks, her steps stuttering for just a moment.

Cassian doesn’t let it deter him, continuing through the steps of the dance as he continues speaking. “The Nesta I remember used to swear that she’d only marry for love, just like the women in her books.”

“That was a fairytale.”

“So, you don’t love him then?”

“How dare you,” Nesta hisses, stopping her steps abruptly and stepping out of Cassian’s hold. “How dare you come back to London after all these years and think you know anything.”

Cassian steps closer again, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing anymore attention to them. “I know more than you think, sweetheart.”

“You know nothing.”

That fire is blazing in her gaze now, but before Cassian can say anything more, she turns on her heel, stalking away. Cassian is quick to follow her, not giving up that easily. He follows her out the large, french doors of the ballroom and onto the terrace. The moon shines bright and full in the sky above, wispy streaks of silver blanketing some of the stars. The floral scent of the gardens floats to them on the evening breeze, the strands of Nesta’s hair blowing gently around her face.

“I know nothing?” Cassian laughs humorlessly. “Fine. Correct me, then. Tell me how much you want this marriage with Tomas Mandray.”

“You should go home, Cassian. Go back to Glasgow.”

“Not until you look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want. Not your father. Not your mother. You.”

The request hangs in the air between them, each second of silence that ticks by stifling. The music from inside pours out through the opened french doors and onto the terrace, but all Cassian can hear is his own heart thundering away, the blood pounding in his ears. He tries to will Nesta to understand, to realize that all she needs to do is say the word, that he’d do anything for her. He’d burn the world and place the ashes at her feet if she asked him to. For a brief moment, an emotion that looks dangerously like grief passes across her face, but just as soon as it appears, it vanishes, that mask sealing back firmly in place.

“Go home, Cassian.”

Nesta brushes past Cassian and back into the party, leaving him standing there alone on the terrace. He turns to watch her go, to watch her melt into the moving bodies of those dancing and mingling about. As she vanishes out of sight, he wonders if she knows she’s taking his heart with her, bloodied and bruised and straight from his chest.

He turns back toward the gardens and leans his hands against the railing that borders the terrace, fingers curling against the stone as he tightens his grip. He closes his eyes as he lets out a stuttering breath, tipping his head up toward the sky as if the stars may provide the answers he’s looking for.

She never answered his question, never fulfilled his request to declare that Tomas was what she wanted, and Cassian doesn’t think he’ll ever get that moment, that brief flash of anguish marring her face, out of his mind. He’s sure he’ll see it every time he closes his eyes. And it’s with startling clarity that Cassian knows. He knows that there will never be anyone else for him. He knows that he’d go to the ends of the earth for Nesta.

He knows that he’s about to do something very, very stupid.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods

[beaumars]

In The Night - Prologue - J. Seresin

WOAH! We made it! The brainchild that contains so much love for the TGM fandom is finally here!! I'm so excited for you guys to meet my OC and join her journey in this universe.

DISCLAIMERS: While I want to be as accurate as possible, I also took some artistic liberties regarding the military, so if something throws you off, that's me and my little imagination at work. THIS WILL BE THE SLOWEST OF BURNS! It may seem fast-paced in the next chapter, but I swear I just want to build a relationship based on friendship and trust between Jake and Sloane.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This chapter talks about grief, minor character death, separation, and children going through shit at an early age.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

THIS IS -- FOR THE MOST PART -- NOT PROOFREAD.

***

0. PROLOGUE

“You think Bowie will like this, mom?”

The older woman looked away from the tree she was decorating to smile at her daughter who held up a handmade Christmas card filled with glitter and tinsel, her hands sticky from the overuse of bottled glue. 

“I think he will, what do you think Beau?” She turned to say to her husband. The tall and stoic man sat on his recliner reading a book and looked up briefly, his wife nudging her gaze over to the little eleven-year-old girl. His eyes went towards his little girl, a small twitch in his lips at the craft in her hands.

“He will, Sloane.” 

The little girl looked down at her feet. She whispered a thanks and ran off to her room. Beau Simpson went back to his book until he heard a small cough. He looked up once again and saw  his wife with her arms crossed. 

“What?”

“What do you mean what, Beau? You could be a little more enthusiastic,” she whispered to him.

“I told her he would like it, what more is there to say?”

Marine Corps Colonel Reina Sanchez huffed and squared her shoulders, “he’s coming back in a week, Beau. Is this what the entirety of his leave – of our leave is going to look like? I mean– the boy barely comes home for holidays anymore! We can't coordinate anything and the one year he decides to come home to be with his family you get like this.”

Commodore Beau Simpson let out a heavy sigh as he put his book down on the coffee table in front of him and stood up to his full height. As he was about to open his mouth he saw a little head peeking out from the corner of the hallway, Reina followed his line of sight and her shoulders sagged and her arms dropped to her sides.

“Come on out, Sloane,” Beau commanded. The little girl timidly stepped out from her hiding spot as the older man waved her over to his side. Once she reached him, he crouched down to her height and put his hands on her shoulders, “I think Bowie is going to absolutely love your Christmas card.”

Her eyes lit up like the lights on the tree behind her, “you really think so, daddy?”

“Absolutely–” Beau and Reina looked at each other as the doorbell rang. Surely their son wasn’t planning on surprising them early. 

They wouldn’t get the chance to dwell hard on the probability as Sloane ran towards the door shouting her brother’s name, her parents trailing behind her. Beau would never admit but his heart jumped at the thought of seeing his son earlier than expected.

Sloane reached the door and practically ripped it off the hinges trying to open it, just to be disappointed to see it wasnt Bowie. Instead, two men were dressed in the fancy uniforms she recognized when her brother graduated from Marine Corps boot camp, “you’re not Bowie…”

Sloane felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and she looked up at her father’s face, stone cold. 

“Commander Simpson? Colonel Sanchez?” asked the older of the two men. 

With a shaky breath Reina responded, “that would be us.”

The younger man made eye contact with Sloane and let out a watery smile as his companion spoke, “I’m Gunnery Sergeant James Reeves, on behalf of the United States Marine Corps, we regret to inform you that your son, Corporal Beau Simpson Junior, was killed in action during his deploy-”

Sloane couldn’t hear anything else as her father’s hand on her shoulder became uncomfortably tight. So tight, in fact, he would have left bruises if Sloane hadn’t whispered, “daddy, you're hurting me…”

Beau looked down at the little girl with tears in her eyes, he immediately let go and tensed his hand as he turned back to the pair of men. The younger man spoke up, “I’m Sergeant Thomas Pierce, sir. I was your son’s friend…”

Behind her, Sloane heard her mother begin to sob, “my baby! Not my baby boy! Please!” 

Beau turned to catch his wife before she could fall to the floor. He turned his head to face the two men and that was all they needed to turn and leave. Sloane was staring at the men leaving when the young Sergeant turned back and briskly walked back and kneeled in front of Sloane. He pulled out a small trinket from his midnight coat and held his hand out for the girl. Thomas grabbed one of her hands with both of his gloved ones and enclosed the small object between their hands, “your brother wanted to give this to you for Christmas. He talked a lot about you. I had hoped we would meet under better circumstances, kid.”

Sloane looked down at her hands to inspect the cold piece of metal, “it’s called an E-G-A; an eagle, globe, and anchor. He got it after his crucible. He said you would like it.”

Sloane traced the bird at the top of the stack, “i love it…”

Thomas got up and walked away, his footsteps blending in with her mother’ sobs, her father’s attempts to calm her, and her own small beating heart. 

– – – 

“You look pretty, mom.”

Reina looked down at Sloane as she adjusted the ribbons on her blues. With a watery smile she moves her hand to stroke her daughter’s face, “you look prettier, baby.”

“Thanks,” Sloane sniffled. 

Reina uses the hand she stroked Sloane’s face and places it gently behind the girl’s head to pull her into an embrace, “He was supposed to come home today.”

Sobs racked the girl’s body and Reina couldn’t help but shed a quick tear before holding on tighter to her child. Beau walks into the embrace and places his hand gently on Sloane’s head, a common act since the day. 

“If you think about it this way, he is back with us, he’s just gonna rest for a while,” Beau reasoned. But what does reasoning matter to a little girl whose emotions were as big and complicated as grief? 

“But I want him awake, dad!–”

“We all want him to be awake, Sloane–”

“You’re lying! That’s why you always fought with Bowie!—”

Reina attempted to butt in,“Sloane, honey. Listen to your dad–” 

But the girl was showing the infamous stubborn trait that carries in every generation of a Simpson, “It’s the truth!”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” he warned as the two of them engaged in a face-off, who would break first? The grieving father with unresolved feelings about his son or the grieving sister who would lose out on her built-in mentor for the rest of her life?

Sloane challenged her father, “or what dad?”

“That’s Commander to you.”

A silence befell the newly established family of three.

“Beau…” Reina whispered. 

Beau Simpson exhaled and shut his eyes for a few seconds, “I’ll be in the car.”

With an empty bitterness he expected out of a seasoned veteran, Sloane responded, “yes, sir.”

Beau opened his eyes and a flash of hurt passed his eyes, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Reina. He had no fight left in him at that moment, so he chose to walk away instead. 

Sloane let out a shaky breath as her mother grabbed her arm to turn and face her, “you need to be patient with your dad, mi cielo. Different people deal with things in different ways. We are dealing with this in our own ways. Your anger towards him doesn’t make you right in this situation.”

“You heard the commander,” Sloane uttered.

Reina once again sighed and pulled her daughter towards her again, “we are allowed to be angry, but this feeling will pass. You shouldn’t have to deal with this at your age, but life works in mysterious ways, baby girl.”

Sloane was still dealing with her anger. An anger that would grow and fester for years to come, but for now, she let it roll off her shoulders for her mother, “he’s waiting for us in the car.”

– – – 

The ceremony went by as one would expect, words were said, tears were shed, flags were folded. The same Sergeant from a week ago, Thomas, handed the flag to Reina. It took everything for the colonel to not lose it like she did a week ago, she started to outwardly breathe in rapid bursts. Sloane thought that it looked like barking, and she would’ve made fun of her mom for the silly thing if it weren't for the fact that Sloane chose to imitate her in hopes of stopping herself from sobbing. 

It wasn’t until they were lowering her brother into the ground that Sloane let her emotions win. She started running and wanted to throw herself into the pit but a pair of arms caught her and started dragging her back. She proceeded to claw and scream for her brother, the body trying its hardest to hold her thrashing body still. People were looking at her but she couldn’t care less, they were putting her brother away and no one was stopping them. 

The body that held her was moving her as far away from the burial as possible. In the distance that was being created she saw her parents with emotionless faces as they lowered their son into the ground. The only semblance of shared feelings was their joined hands. A man in a uniform similar to her father’s walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder. She noticed he was blonde and had more ribbons than her dad. 

Sloane kept thrashing, she wanted to be in there, or at least she believed she deserved to be there, with him, with Bowie. Her struggle felt like it had gone on for hours when it was only really a minute. They reached the parked cars when the body holding her started audibly sobbing, she stiffened her body and turned towards her captor. A man she might have confused for her dad if you saw him from behind. A man that loved her like she was his own. Her father was his spitting image. But he wore a uniform much like her mom’s. 

A man she hasn’t seen in over a year, Brigadier General Benjamin Simpson, was as distraught as his niece, but with a water logged laugh he said, “you’ve been eating your vegetables, kid.”

– – –

Back at home, bodies were fluttering about. Some offered condolences and others were talking in hushed tones looking at Sloane, who sat at the edge of the couch closest to the recliner. Bowie’s corner. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pair of slacks next to her, followed by a hand lowering to her eyeline, revealing a plate filled with meat, cheese, and fruit.

Sloane looked up for the owner of the hand, and a soft smile left the lips of one of the most hardened men. Uncle Ben was her favorite person besides her brother, but right now she just wanted to shut the world out. 

Ben sighed, placed the plate down on the coffee table, and perched himself on the edge of the couch, “you gotta eat something, Sloane.”

“‘M not hungry,” she mumbled, fixing her unfocused gaze upon the unfinished Christmas tree. 

“M’kay,” he relented. 

“...You’re supposed to be in Virginia.”

“Yeah… But my family needed me.”

“Hm.”

They sat there for a while until her stomach rumbled, she looked back up at her uncle who happened to be already looking at her. She let out a quiet laugh and reached towards the plate for a grape. Ben softly smiled and ruffled her hair as she slowly chewed the fruit. She took another grape after a minute, as she was finishing her grape she heard footsteps coming near. She looked up and saw her dad and the blonde man from earlier. Her uncle stood up and saluted the man, “Iceman.”

Iceman returned the salute with a solemn smile, “Zeus.” As the men’s arm return to their side Iceman leans over to notice the little girl who stopped chewing her grape, “and who is this little one?”

Sloane stood up and held her hand out for the older man, “Sloane Simpson, sir. ”

Beau smiles for the first time in a week as Iceman goes to shake her hand, “nice to meet you, Sloane.”

Sloane looked at her dad, Beau nodded and she turned her head back to the blond, “you as well, sir.”

“And how old are you, Smaller Simpson?”

She smiled for a quick second before going back to her reclusive demeanor, “eleven, I turn twelve next month.”

“Oh wow, twelve is a serious age.”

“It’s gonna get more serious after that.”

Iceman laughs, “yes it will. Yes it will.”

Her uncle then drew the two men into meaningless conversation, a distraction Iceman was willing to partake in for the sake of his brother in arms and office work. 

But Sloane kept staring at him as he talked with the Simpson Brothers. Iceman felt her gaze, looked down at her and kindly asked, “can I help you, Sloane Simpson?”

“Why do they call you, Iceman?”

Iceman begins to laugh and slowly Zeus and her dad begin to join. Nothing boisterous, it blends in with the chatter going around, “because of the way I fly, kid. Ice cold, no mistakes.”

“Hm. You fly like my dad and Uncle Ben?” 

“I used to. I find myself in the office more often than not nowadays.”

“What’s flying like?” she presses. 

Iceman raises his eyebrow in curiosity as he looks over to Ben who is smiling at her. Beau, however, has his jaw clenched and a sad look flashes across his face.

He finds that the girl’s gaze didn’t waver from him and he begins to clear his throat as he addresses the question deflecting at what may become a sensitive topic, “I haven’t flown in a while, Sloane. I think your dad and uncle here can explain it more than I can.”

Ben is about to open his mouth when Beau beats him to it, “As long as I live you’re not touching a jet, kid.”

“Why not?”

Beau just fixes her with a stare and her attitude from earlier comes back tenfold, yet quieter this time around, “sorry, commander.”

Sloane walks away to the backyard to escape the sudden stuffiness of her home. 

Meanwhile, Beau releases a shaky sigh, “I just– I don't know. I–”

Iceman places a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s years down the line, I can't risk losing another one.”

Ben grabs his brother’s arm and gives it a squeeze, “yeah, but trying to stop it before it starts might just make it worse.”

– – –

Living in the Point Loma area meant Sloane was no stranger to the sound of commercial planes taking off and landing from the nearby airport, so it felt weird not to have any go by that day. As if the universe was delaying the sound for her brother’s absence. That and everyone knew flights didn’t take off late at night in San Diego. So she just kept staring at the darkening sky, thinking of her brother, and the christmas card she never got to give him. The backdoor slid open and a few footsteps were heard, but like earlier, she chose to wait until they announced themselves. She already recognized one of the sets anyway, she could only infer who the other person was. 

“Sloane, Iceman wanted to say goodbye.”

As she looked away from the sky, the familiar boom of a plane engine was heard overhead, she held up a finger to the sky and as the plane went farther the noise became less, “sorry, plane overhead.”

The blonde superior smiled and extended his hand to the girl, “It was lovely to meet you, Sloane Simpson.”

“You as well, sir.”

“And if you ever need anything, whether it’s from me or the Navy, you let me know. And if someone gets in your way, you tell ‘em Tom Kazansky said otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iceman smiled at the girl, turned to Beau and nodded his head, “Cyclone.”

“Sir,” Beau nodded back. 

The father and daughter watched the commanding officer walk away and disappear behind the doors leading into to the house. They stood there for a while, looking at the sky, just breathing in sync, the events of recently passing through them. 

The backdoor slid open again, and there was Ben, “come into the house, both of you! You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

– – –

Three months passed but it still felt like it was yesterday that the sergeants came to their front door.

Ben had been reassigned to a new permanent station up in Miramar, which meant he was around more. Meanwhile, Reina and Beau found that they started talking to each other behind closed doors a lot more than normal couples should. They tell themselves it’s to shield Sloane from what they talk about, but everyone in the household knew it was a ruse. Because that’s all a closed door is, it’s just closed. Sound travels well when you’re a nosy twelve-year-old sticking your ear to a door. 

“What are you trying to say, Beau?”

“He would still be here!” He whisper-yelled. 

“I went to the academy just like you! Tell me, please, what example I set for him.”

“The Marines–”

“He chose to enlist! If you would have listened to him instead of shoving your need for legacy down his throat you would have noticed that he didn’t like school!”

“He didn’t even give it the old college try.”

“Oh please be real with yourself, Beau! Would you have let him drop out if he wanted to? Or would you have done the same thing you did when he joined and made it your mission to forget he existed as a Simpson, as your son.”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t what, remind you of how you neglected him for three months when he needed us most? He’s lucky he had your brother, Sloane, and I! Do you know how hard and taxing that training can be? And away from those you love most? To be broken down and built back up? And to become a singular entity giving yourself as property and being grouped with stereotypes because of what you decided to pursue? He did it for YOU, Beau! He wanted to prove that he can take the hardships without counting on our academy legacy! He just wanted to set his own path, Beau. You can’t blame him for doing what he thought would impress you.”

“Look where it got him, Reina!”

A choked sob is heard, some shuffling steps, and small ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean that’s’. 

Tears were streaming down Sloane’s face as anger coursed through her veins. Her dad had no right to blame her mom for Bowie’s death. But she recalled her conversation with her mom three months ago, where she told Sloane that different people deal with things in different ways. Maybe her dad’s way was to blame her mom. Maybe Sloane’s way was to blame her dad. 

Before she could dwell any further on those thoughts an arm went around her waist and a hand clapped over her mouth. 

“Shh,” he said, “follow me.”

Ben slowly released his niece and walked off to the living room of the home. 

“How’d you get in?” Sloane wondered.

“Just because you live in a relatively safe area of town doesn’t mean you can put your spare key in a relatively stupid place for all other people to see,” he explained.

“Okay, but why are–”

Ben puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, “Mm, no. It's my turn to ask a question: what were you doing eavesdropping?”

Sloane looked down, truly ashamed to be called out by the one person she truly believed was in her corner, “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you apologizing to me for? I’m not the one whose privacy you invaded.”

Sloane just swallowed the lump in her throat, “...they were really good at hiding it for a couple weeks after the funeral, but on my birthday I went looking for them so that we could cut the cake. I heard the yelling. I couldn’t stop listening since then.”

Ben softened and held his arms out as the girl hiccupped her way through her words, “oh, Sloane.”

She rushed into his arms. As much as she loved her uncle, at that moment she wanted it to be someone else holding her. Someone that was gone. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Sloane felt the crown of her head become wet with her uncle’s tears. They only looked up when they heard footsteps coming down the hall. 

Reina and Beau stood as far apart as the hallway would let them. Beau brought his gaze up from the floor, it was the most sad and scared Sloane has seen her father since they buried Bowie all those months ago. Reina had her arms crossed across her chest and was staring at the Christmas tree that she didn’t have the heart to put away. 

“Come sit with me, Sloane,” Beau tempted as he walked towards his recliner. He sat down and patted the armrest when he noticed she didn’t leave her uncle’s arms. Slowly, and hesitantly, she made her way over. She sat down on the ledge and her father pulled her into his arms and cradled, as if she was a newborn, “thanks for being here, Ben.”

“Anytime,” the man replied.

Beau began to stroke Sloane’s hair like he did when she was smaller. Sloane felt another lump in her throat.

“You know mom and I love you so much, right?” He asked. 

Sloane nodded. 

“I need to hear you, honey.”

“Yes, sir,” she stated wearily. 

Beau drew in a sharp breath, knowing that she was still hurt by his past comment. He went back to stroking her hair, “then please believe me and your mom when we say this has nothing to do with you, okay?”

Sloane sat up from Beau’s embrace, “what are you talking about?”

Beau and Reina shared a glance, the woman giving a single heavy nod before she spoke up, “Sloane, baby. You’re dad and I think it’s best for everyone involved if we… took some time apart from each other.”

“What?” Sloane immediately stood up from her father’s hold, and for a slight moment his arms chased his little girl, wishing that this never had to happen. He saw the light in her eyes die, and he thought to himself if that’s what he looked like when his son said he was enlisting. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! you’ll still see me and dad but things are going to look and feel different–”

Sloane turns to her uncle, “is that why you’re here?”

“Sloane–”

“Don’t lie to me!” She yelled. 

There was a tense second before Sloane bolted for the front door and made it in time before anyone could block her. A chorus made up of her name was heard behind her as she ran down the street with no specific direction. She just ran. And ran. And ran and ran and ran. 

Back home, Ben ran back to the worried parents, “I can’t tell what street she went down, I’ll get in my car to look for her.”

“Good idea. I’m gonna call Ice and stay here in case she decides to come back,” Beau said walking back into the house. 

As Ben started his car he heard a knock on his window. He looked over to see a tearful Reina, he rolled down the window and she spoke up, “can I tag along?”

Ben nodded and unlocked the doors. As she settled in he pulled off the curb and began driving. 

After a long moment of silence and driving every surrounding block Ben spoke up, “can I be candid with you, right now?”

Reina sniffled, “sure.”

“Why now?” he questioned.

“What do you mean?” She asked as she played with the hem of her shirt. 

“I mean why now? I know I'm never going to understand because I don’t have a kid of my own but this is easier for you,” he explained, albeit vaguely.

“I don't understand.”

Ben pulled into a free spot along the curb, parked his car, and looked at his sister-in-law, “I mean why now? I understand if it’s hard for you and Beau, shit, I know he’s a stubborn piece of shit I grew up with him for christ sake but that little girl that just ran out of the living room and onto the streets of San Diego has no one. I sacrificed my connection with her because of my brother. She doesn't have a brother anymore, Reina. And now she doesn’t have a stable relationship at home. And instead of seeking the help to slowly introduce her to the idea, you rip off the band aid? There is a little girl running around out there who is losing everything in front of her eyes at too fast of a rate. So I'll ask you this right now because Beau isn’t here, why?”

Reina didn’t have an answer. 

– – – 

“What was she wearing?” He asked as he scanned his surrounding areas. 

On the other side of the line, Beau pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, “ Uh, She was– she was wearing a light-gray long sleeve and black jeans. With black converse.”

“Got it. I’ll call you with updates,” Ice ended the call and kept driving. 

After an hour and no sign of the girl anywhere, he breathed deeply, and parked along the cliffside side viewing area. Tom Kazansky enjoyed the San Diego sunsets, he claimed that there was probably nowhere else in the contiguous United States that had prettier sunsets than San Diego. As he admired the setting sun he noticed a very young person wearing a gray-long sleeve and black jeans sitting on the bench admiring the same view. 

He slowly got out of his car and made his way toward the girl. He shot a text to the worried commander before he reached Sloane:

Found her. All fine. Don’t rush, I’ll take her home. Let me talk to her. 

“With black converse,” he smiled as he stood next to her. Iceman looked back out to the horizon and took a seat on the empty portion of the bench. 

“This is my favorite bench,” he said after a moment.

“Really?” her eyes slowly panning to pay attention to him. 

“No,” he stated, causing Sloane to chortle, “But it got you to laugh, didn’t it?” 

Sloane just nodded.

“So what’s up? Your dad called me worried saying you ran away,” at the mention of his commander her face soured, “what’d he do?”

“Can I tell you a secret, Iceman?” she asked with big wide eyes, unbeknownst to her, the last time she would let anyone see her that way. 

“My lips are sealed, Sloane Simpson,” he dragged his pointer and thumb across his lips and threw his ‘key’ far into the pacific ocean. 

“My parents are getting a divorce,” she threw out, “they say they’re gonna separate but I know what’s really gonna happen.”

Ice sat up straighter and looked back out to the ocean, where the sun was slowly making its way further out, and hiding behind the horizon, “oh wow. That must be hard.”

“It is. My brother just died and my parents are no longer going to be together. Is the rest of my life going to be this hard?” she whimpered.

Iceman reveled in the last sliver of sun as it disappeared behind the horizon, “I wish I could genuinely answer that question for you, kid.”

“But if you could?” she prodded.

Iceman thought for a bit and gave a big exhale, “I would say that the more life wants to throw at you, the stronger you are. The cruel mistress herself wouldn’t attempt to tear you down if she didn’t see something worth tearing.”

Sloane began to sniffle but Iceman continued, “but contrary to popular belief, we should take care of ourselves when she deals devastating blows. That way, when she comes back to deal another blow she sees we have built ourselves higher and thicker.”

“Can I tell you something else?”

“Of course you can,” he obliged.

The girl fiddled with her fingers for a while, finding the courage to admit whatever she was thinking about to her dad’s boss. When she finally spoke the familiar black and blue of the night surrounded them, with the waves crashing against the cliffs beneath her, “I want to–”

A plane flew by overhead, she looked up and pointed up to it and waited for it to pass by before she looked at him, “Fly.”

[rreader]

Hi! I think i just read EVERYTHING you've written. And it is AMAZING, so, its ok if i submit a request? Maybe Soulmate!AU (with words) with Loki (bc i love my son) there is something strange with his words (i dunno what, omg) and he thinks that he don't have a soulmate and then, one day, after some bad things he is in a BAD mood, and he meets reader and shouts at them, but instead of being upset reader is just GRINNING SO WIDE, and then... fluff. Yeah. I'm bad with ideas x) Thank you!

Pairing: Loki x ReaderFandom: MCUWarnings: can’t lie to your soulmate!au ; a biiiiit smutty. tiny bit.

A/N: oh my god, I’m soooo glad you’re enjoying my stories my dear and I certainly hope that you like this one as well. I don’t know if I’d necessarily call it ‘fluff’, but I just thought a bit more steam would fit it a little better. don’t worry, it’s no actual smut, but I’m certainly hinting at it. (also, I wrote this before I saw Ragnarok, so this happens before the movie)

                                                         *****

Midgard.

Hehad always despised this planet, still did and probably alwayswould.

Sowhy was he here? Why was he doing this to himself and not plottinghow to take over Asgard again?

Becausedespite of what he told himself, he didn’t want his brother to diejust yet and he certainly didn’t want anyone else to kill him if thatsomeone wasn’t himself, so here he was, on Midgard, getting ready forthe fight against Thanos.

“Loki!”speak of the devil. Thor approached him, already in his armor, “Getready for battle, brother. We’ve got a lead on one of the infinitystones.”

“Idon’t see why that concerns me? Ask one of your ‘friends’,” hesneered and continued reading, his legs propped up onto the coffeetable in front of him.

ButThor pushed them off with his own feet and snatched the book out of his hand.

“ButI want you by my side.”

Lokirolled his eyes and got up, his casual clothing turning into hisarmor.

“Fine.Congratulations, you’ve just robbed me of my relaxation day,” hewalked towards the door, a laughing Thor running after him.

                                      Contraxia,a few hours later

Thorand Loki were wandering through the cold, approaching one of TaneleerTivan’s hideouts, in hopes of finding the Reality Stone in there.

“Ah!Isn’t this lovely, brother? You, me and an Ice Planet. Just like oldtimes,” Thor laughed, walking a few steps ahead of him.

Lokionly grunted. He thought he hated Midgard, but Midgard was a paradisecompared to this shit hole.

Whydid Heimdall have to drop them off so far from the cave? Wasit too hard to just leave them at the entrance?

“Oh,by the way, Jane said yes!”

“Howmarvelous,” he had no clue what she said yes to, but right now, hedid not care.

“Itried to hide it from her. But you know how it is with your soulmate.Can’t lie to them,” Thor chuckled.

Loki,however, did not. He didn’t respond..

Hedid not know how any of it felt like. Everyone else seemed to havefound their soulmate. Unlike him. He kept telling himself that itdidn’t matter to him, but truth be told? It did. It seemed like theuniverse hated him. And in return, he decided to hate the universe.

“Don’tfret, brother,” Thor gave him a hard clap onto his back, “I’msure you’ll find your soulmate rather sooner than later.”

Hereally doubted that.

Nevertheless,they finally arrived at the hideout, carefully making their wayinside.

Oddlyenough, there were no guards at the entrance of the cave, neitheralong the path inside.

It’slike they all vanished all of a sudden.. left in a hurry.

“Theytold me this place would be filled with guards.”

“I’vealways told you that your human friends are imbeciles,” Loki’s moodonly got worse by the second. It seemed like Thor had dragged him outhere on this freezing planet for no reason at all. This place lookedlike someone had already been here and taken everything that lookedlike it was worth something.

Andwhen they finally arrived in the heart of the hideout, his suspicionwas confirmed.

“Let’slook around..,” Thor said, but couldn’t even take one step, beforethe cave was filled with shouts and the brothers were surrounded by, what looked like, scavengers. Or maybe bandits. Or both.. “Or not,”he added.

“Fools.Do you not know who we are?” Loki asked, readying his staff.

“Oh,on the contrary. We do,” you made your way through your people, allof them stepping aside to let you get in front of them, a smilegracing your lips, “Because we were the ones who tipped you off onthis place. Truth be told, I was hoping they’d send the wizard or the machine guy, but youtwo are even better,” you laughed and clapped once in excitement.

Thorglanced at Loki, who nodded.

Butyou weren’t as stupid as they thought you were. Before they couldstart attacking, an electrically charged net fell from the ceiling,leaving them stunned for now. 

“Getthem on the ship. I want to talk to them,” you ordered and walkedup ahead, letting your people do the hard work.

                                                 twohours later

“Well,well, good morning sleeping beauties,” you grinned and pulled up achair towards the brothers. They were sitting on chairs themselves,chains all around them. “Now, before either of you has any gloriousideas, let me inform you that these chains are electrically charged too. If you want to fall back asleep, go right ahead and try to freeyourselves. If you behave, I’ll let you live. I only have some questions.”

“Questions? That’s what this is about?”

“Yes, muscle man. Questions,” you turned your head towards Thor, “So answer them, or I’ll have to hurt you, understood?”

“Youthink you can threaten us? You’re just a beautiful woman withgorgeous eyes and seem to be incredibly talented, so I will not eventry to escape, because I want to stay a little longer with you,” hescreamed angrily. 

BothThor and you stared at him, Loki’s chest heaving up and down and thensuddenly, he held his breath when he realized what he just said.

Youstarted grinning and leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms infront of your chest.

“Now THAT’S what I call a plot twist.” you laughed.

“What?!”Loki’s eyes wandered from you to Thor, back to you. “What’shappening to me?!”

Youbit your lip, got up and crouched in front of him.

“Tellme how much you want to kill me.”

“Iwant to pin you against the wall and make you beg for mercy, when I’m inside you because of how good I make you feel. Then Iwant to hold you in my arms and fall asleep with you. Brother. Stopme,” he turned his head to Thor, his eyes pleading for help.

“You’re soulmates! This has to count for something, right?!” Thorimmediately used that to their advantage.

Butyou didn’t even really listen to him, you still stared into Loki’seyes and smiled at him.

Outof all the possible soulmates you could have had, it had to be anAsgardian god.

Well,at least it was interesting.

“Fine,”you bit your tongue and grinned again, nodding, “Forget the whole questioning shit. I’ll let you go,” you pressed thebutton that controlled the chains.

“I’mso glad my soulmate is as insane as I am,” Loki got up, hisshackles falling to the floor and a wicked grin on his face.

“Believeme, so am I.”

Asecond later, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed himhard, his own hands grabbing your waist and holding you tight.

“Uhm..forgive me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but.. could you release me aswell?”

Youboth turned your head towards Thor, who was still sitting in thatchair, completely bound to it. You sighed and were about to pick upthe remote for the chain controls, when Loki stopped you.

“Wait..”

“Loki!No!” Thor warned.

“Lethim sit here for a bit longer. He’ll still be here when we get back.”

“Loki!”Thor was now trying to get out of the chains himself, but they werestill charged, so every little move he made, sent shocks through hisbody.

Asthe God of Thunder, it shouldn’t bother him that much, but too muchenergy and it wasn’t pleasant anymore. He could barely control hispowers as it was, if he was to be charged with too much energy.. whoknew what would happen.

Youconsidered it for a moment and then nodded, matching your soulmate’swicked grin.

“Ilike the way you think, dear soulmate. Let’s get to know each othersome more, yes?” you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards yourbedroom on your ship.

“LOKI!GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

ButLoki was far too occupied to even care about his brother right now.

Hehad finally found his soulmate and damn, that you were.

Hecouldn’t have asked for a better one.