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Synopsis: after over a year of secretly dating (and public flirting before that) you and Hasan have finally gone public with your relationship. This leaves months and months of shipping content that he has yet to capitalize from. But not anymore! He finally gives chat free rein to send him some videos to react to, all to confident they did a good job at hiding. They did not and there’s enough compilations of Hasan down bad to prove it. As he attempts to defend himself for being so confidently obvious, you walk into the scene of the crime.

You and Hasan have recently gone public with your relationship. There was a few, allbeit mostly positive reactions from viewers.

“OMG YAYYY”

“I knew it. I wasn’t crazy”

And of course

“Yeah we know.. thought you were together longer honestly”

Many shippers were vindicated that day.

There were a few HATERS of course but that’s just the reality of posting online. It was the main reason you hid it for so long. Hasan’s haters attempting to get digs at him through you. But it was time, your relationship was strong enough to handle the worms that disapproved and finally just being able to say it after so long was freeing.

The shippers… or should I say truthers were ecstatic. While there was a lot of shipping content, edits, compilations, tweets and clips etc before the announcement. The sheer number of videos pointing out all the signs multiplied in the days following.

And that’s why Hasans here, streaming and allowing people to send in videos about the whole affair for him to react to. Convinced it’s not as obvious as people are saying. As before this, he’s stayed away from the content like.

“Of course now that I’ve confirmed it every fucking person is saying that already knew. Performative shipping.” Hasan chides the chat as he tabs away some videos. Stream just started and it’s all anyone’s talking about.

Loldontuno:HASAN IVE BEEN A TRUTHER SINCE 2023

He opens the users chat history and yeah.. one of the first streams you and Hasan did together they were shipping them. And got timed out for it.

“Whatever we have a lot to get through, no they’re not coming on stream they’ve had enough of you guys this week.”

While you’re used to the Internet as you stream yourself, and you had a lot of overlap in your audience it was just an influx of a lot more interaction than usual. You’re taking a mental health day and then farming this thoroughly tomorrow.

The first clip wasn’t very incriminating. He remembers it well though. You’d been on Fear&, for the first time since you started seeing each other and he wasn’t necessarily slaying the social interactions. He was a bit distracted, he’ll admit.

Wobblelobble6967: “it wasn’t obvious he says” him: 😻

“IT WASNT! You guys are just weird.” He says defensively.

The next clip was when he was on your stream, cooking some TikTok viral shit that ended up not being good. You two were in sync, it wasn’t the first time you’d cooked together and it showed.

“Nah chat we were just cooking.” Denial is a river in Egypt though. He adjusts his glasses as if it’ll get less incriminating. It only makes him see how distracted he looked cutting the vegetables.

Dontlookatmepls: knife safety was secondary to her beauty

“Okay yeah. I get how you could MAYBE see it. Maybe.”

Next clip. It was just him. He accidently went on a rant about how much he liked having you on stream. Alone this time in his office after you’d left. The edit goes into 5x speed. Clear he was rambling about what good content you make, how funny you are, how much he genuinely likes hanging out with you. The sincerity bled off of him.

He clears his throat and takes a drink to sheepishly hide his face as it goes on and on.. and on.

“I talk about all my friends like that.”

Luzeecrtl: sure bud

PridefulPear: that’s how I talk to my partner who I’m MARRIED TO btw

GerryMandor: right and I’m not a 2 year sub (called it btw)

He moves on.

The next one is a compilation called “Hasan Piker giving [Name] heart eyes for 6 minutes and 23 seconds straight”

It was one of the shorter ones.

While he failed to react to the video because he simply felt so called out he could do nothing but thousand yard stare, you peaked into his office, knocking a soft rapping sound on the doorframe. His head snapped around to look.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask. Already knowing. He’s the one streaming this to thousands of people and perhaps you were one of them.

“Uh.. drugs?” (Jk)

“I’m just streaming, you know watching.. stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff. Things. You know. Shipping stuff. Clout farming our relationship.” He speaks in a clipped tone. Clearly fighting off the tinge of embarrassment that’s been blooming in his chest. He’s a streamer, he can deal with embarrassment. He’s shared so much shit on the Internet it’s actually stupid that he feels so caught right now. “Wanna.. come on stream?”

You come into frame in your comfy garb. Respecting the sanctity of your mental health day by doing self care like joining in on chats dog pile and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he sits back in his ergonomic chair.

“Aw I’ve seen this one.” Looking over his shoulder at the compilation. Unlike him, you liked watching the shipping content before you announced your relationship. As you yourself were also and you + Hasan truther for obvious reasons. A sort of “I know something you don’t” satisfaction. In a way it prepared you for everyone’s opinions about it.

He groans dragging a large hand over his face, pulling at his defined brow, his circular glasses get pushed up his face, now crooked as he removes it, revealing a slight flush to his neck, cheeks, and ears.

“Not you too, everyone’s fucking bullying me.” He lets an amused breath out of his nose—almost a sigh—even as he conveys his suffering.

“Whatever, go touch grass.” You kiss the top of his head. “Cyber bullying isn’t real, just turn off the computer.”

He wishes stream didn’t start an hour ago or he totally would. With you. “Funny. Haha.”

Heylololol: YEAH GET BULLIED

Rip2me: wait they’ve got a point…

Justpeary: r we gonna ignore the fact [name] already seen this?

Luzeecrtl: @ Justpeary: they covertly infiltrated the shipping discourse months ago. Investigative journalism.

Hasan decides to move onto a different segment, realizing he can only take this endearing but intensely embarrassing content in micro doses before he looses sanity.

“Okay time to move onto the economic state of the world.” He closes the tabs

“Maybe we’re in an edit right now.” You give the camera a look.

A/n: maybe not an edit, try a fanfic

Hasan was in a tailored suit and you were very distracted about that in particular. Obviously, he’s here for his political career; particularly refreshing type of nuance when it came to leftist rhetoric; his massive success as a political commentator.

The stream had just started. Camera pointed to both of you mic’d up in the back of the car and heading to the college campus where the convention is taking place.

“Chat doesn’t he look so handsome in his suit? Real spiffy.” You had to comment on it. Especially since now you feel underdressed in your slightly-less-casual casuals.

Hasan looks up from his phone which had been scanning the chat, as well as his notes. His dark brows furrowed behind the thick rims of his glasses.

“Spiffy?” He asks like it’s offensive.

“I called you handsome too!”

He shakes his head, but the sheepish smirk he gets at unexpected compliments breaks at the corner of his lips.

He reads the chat a bit more before explaining what they’re going to be doing all day, his later public speeches, and some other #important PSAs for the rest of the day.

But who gives a shit? Marche sends you the website of a rainbow Mexican food truck that’s known to be in this area called ‘Love Is Tacos’ and if they didn’t review the tacos during PRIDE MONTH it would probably be considered a hate crime.

Also they look really good.

They get dropped off and head inside. Hasan answers equations from chat he already answered on the way there.

“Oh and because there’s no filming allowed backstage before, [name] and Marche are doing a gay taco review in a bit.” He says offhandedly because it is, granted the least important content the streams found to contain, is also the part chat gets most excited about.

“It’s the only reason I showed up.” You shrug at the camera.

The day progresses. There’s some guest appearances as they walk through the hallways and large rooms with booths and people varying in age from college students to oversized suits to more experienced speakers with greying hair.

While Hasan does actual work you try and find out exactly where the taco truck is going to be, which is surprisingly difficult, given its neon rainbow. But you were pretty sure it wouldn’t be too far away between now and Hasan’s segment. Making the taco acquisition completely possible.

Before going your seperate ways, you and Marche promise to bring Hasan tacos and quesadillas with a rainbow cheese pull.

While Marche manages the stream you switch between twitter and maps trying to triangulate the location of the Love is Tacos. Chat is hyped, spamming rainbows and tacos and queer joy. Some chatters who claim to be local say that while it has a theme, it’s not a gimmick at all and is actually really fucking good. Which only makes you and Marche hungrier.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Marche asks looking over your shoulder at your malfunctioning Google Maps.

“I’m like 67% sure.”

The camera wobbles as he makes the 67 motion.

“But seriously I need the gay tacos, bad.”

This is when a chatter informs them that the truck was hired to cater a wedding today. She hoped this was fake news.

“You’re joking. Please say you’re joking.”

PridefulPear: no I’m currently watching stream getting ready it’s MY wedding

“Oh fuck you,” Marche groans. “Wait sorry congrats that’s so great, happy for you.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier??”

PridefulPear: IM SORRY but like you can come if you want it’s just in a park.

“What?? No we can’t crash your wedding to make a taco review!” You say. While it’s flattering this is also ridiculous and that’s the most special day of their lives.

“Please we have to.” Marche insists.

PridefulPear: my partner also watches the stream we would be honored for our gay ass wedding to be christened by the hasanabi broadcast

A twitter account of the same name requests to dm you. It’s a location to a beautiful park not that far away. You also get forwarded the wedding invitation, it matches up. You take a gander and the twitter account also looks legit.

“Okay we could either attend a gay wedding and get tacos or get lured to our untimely demise.” You look up at Marche weighing the options.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” He nods solemnly.

“Onward!”

Now, you and Marche really tried to be on time. But they had a clown. At the wedding. It made for WAYY better content. Besides it was close and it gave you both a false sense of security.

Though you didn’t want to overstay your welcome, you wished the happy couple the best and let them get on with the best day of their lives. Marche also paid for the gay taco truck.

“I’m not doing this cause I’m nice I’m manipulating the audience into thinking I’m philanthropic.” As he sends over the Apple Pay.

But eventually they leave with their tacos and balloon animals. The “review” was just them nodding and pointing as the gorged on their select while they walked.

“Ohmygoditssogood” you say chewing improperly.

Then you feed Marche a chip cause he’s also holding the camera.

Once the speed walking review is completed they finally manage to sneak into the back of the lecture hall, where Hasan sits at the front with a few other highlighted speakers and behave yourselves.

Hasan hasn’t noticed. He reached a flow state up there and while you couldn’t be prouder, you were more excited for the rainbow cheese pull he’s going to get from the quesadillas when he’s done. Also for him to watch the clown clip.

The end?

A/n: honestly I have no idea what’s going on or why I chose this series of events but I hope you liked it. It also felt rushed near the end and I’m sorry for that but I started this at 8 am and now it’s 9 PM soooo… TIME IS AN ILLUSION. Also I can’t be normal about anything. You will learn this about me.

Bruce is anxious to get back to Earth. To his work, his apartment, routine. He left when the world was in a state of disarray. Thor assures him the Ultron situation was taken care of, though Thor’s idea of “taken care of” is actually usually evidence of the exact opposite.

“Hey, Thor how long is it gonna take to fix the Bifrost?” He asks the god for what feels like the thousandth time. “Seems like sort of a long time, for the most advanced civilization known like- ever, so…”

Only like the 3rd. Bruce just feels pretty annoying asking again. Thor looks like some big caged cat, he’s already showing signs of zoochosis. He’d always talked about how he loathes the idea of sitting on a throne ruling. Seeing him actually doing it though, is a different beast altogether. He was pacing back and forth about the room. The evening glow and a light breeze drift in from the balcony doors, casting a shadow below his brow furrowed in thought.

“Well you know, Banner. Hofund must be reforged in the eternal forge, and the Bifrost rebuilt… it could be weeks. Unfortunately.”

“No, I don’t really know much about… magic stuff, Thor.” He feels like he’s going insane. Technically all this stuff is science, however, it’s so far removed from all of this understanding. He feels more like he’s in Wonderland.

In reality the Bifrost may be repaired in the next few days, but he’s only just gotten Bruce back and he cannot follow him to Midguard because of his duty to his people. So the most logical thing to do is to prolong is stay until he can be spared and join the rest of the Avengers. Continue to save Midgard on epic adventures. Besides, there is a lingering fear that as soon as Bruce leaves his realm he’ll get lost in space again, and he hardly took that well the first time.

He imagines missing out and missing Banner so hard he runs into the ornate desk that used to belong to his father, knocking from it some sort of vase that emits glowing dust as it shatters upon the floor. Would he break Asguard in the same way? Clumsily? And with his father’s true legacy, the true foundation of which Asguard was founded and the nine realms were claimed, is it even a throne he wants to sit on?

Bruce noticed this rumination. And Thor’s never been one to cry over spilled stardust. He usually breaks things on purpose, so seeing him so disheartened about it is actually worrying.

A chemically calloused hand closes around his firm bicep.

“It’s alright, man. don’t worry about it. It’s been two years what’s a few weeks?” Bruce pulls on his arm, grabbing attention away from the vase melting into sand, which then evaporates? How is it..? ‘ Not important ’ Bruce reminds himself. He isn’t able to unhand Thor even before he turns back to Bruce with a smile.

“Thank you, Banner. Until the time comes for you to return to your realm, you will be celebrated as a hero to Asguard. The most welcomed guest.”

It’s hard not to just say ‘Yes your Majesty’ when Thor looks at him like that. Slapping a firm hand over his shoulder that rattles his ribs.

“Thor- that’s, uh well… Thanks, but Hulk killed your sister’s giant wolf thing, not me. I’m just- a little out of my element here.” He wipes a free hand over his flushed cheek.

“Hulk may have done the slaying, my friend but it was you who chose to fight on the bridge. For that I could never thank you enough.” Thor knows how much he feared never returning to himself. Thor never feared in the slightest though, he has far more faith in Bruce than Bruce does in himself. However, Bruce insinuating he’s got no place on Asgard makes the small ache in his chest grow larger. Not like he blames him, Thor doesn’t feel like he belongs here either.

“You don’t need to thank me for that. It was the right thing to do.” Though, it’s nice to be recognized, it’s top 5 most terrifying things he’d ever done. He was out of options, and he’s still grappling with how Hulk was in control for two years, and had a life of his own.

He was about to respond, before a booming voice sounds from outside the study.

“It was you! You- Royal Oaf!” The booming voice of Brunnhilde sounds, accompanied by shattering glass and a short feminine yelp.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about-!” Received with more sounds of struggle and cracking marble.

Thor lets out a sigh, shoulders dipping. With a squeeze of a hand on Bruce’s shoulder he leaves the room to find Brunnhilde threatening Loki, again. “Out of all the people to enact your schemes, you choose the one who could kill you the swiftest?” The Young King’s thumbs hang on his belt. Mostly unbothered.

“It is not a scheme.. this time.” He’s breathlessly pressed against the wall by the huntress, shined boots dangling for the ground. “I am the Prince you must unhand me.”

“You are a bug under my shoe.” She throws him.

Bruce thought the two were becoming unlikely friends, maybe they still are. Just slowly? “Maybe I sound like a broken record but what exactly did he do?”

“Nothing!” Loki claims from the opulent floor.

“Your witch of a brother keeps replacing my alcohol with juice!” Enchanted to taste like mead. However, as a professional alcoholic, she can taste the difference.

“I’m not a witch! Gods, you are insufferable.” He sits up, tender from the beating.

“If you were maybe you would have seen that coming, brother.” Thor chuckles. There was something very right and amusing about Loki being thrown about.

“Find another miserable fool to taunt.” Brunnhilde straightens her tunic which is lined with leather plates, always prepared for battle. “I’m getting a drink. the kind that inebriates me.”

“So you admit you’re a miserable fool?”

She doesn’t respond, just struts down the corridor and turns into the hallway to the cellar.

Thor strides over and pulls Loki to his feet by the back collar of his robes. Dusting his shoulders, attempting to be helpful but only jostles the trickster more. “Perhaps you require a new hobby brother.”

Loki steps away, straightening himself with a click of his silver tongue. “I do not require a “hobby”. I only insist that our noble friend stops drunkenly presenting me with all of her secrets and compartmentalized emotions. Now that she has access to the beverage of the gods she actually gets drunk enough to wallow.”

A small beating part of him sympathizes with her struggles and he wishes not to be reminded he has a heart. Thank you very much.

“Well, you know maybe both of you need something to do. So you don’t fall into your bad habits, I mean.” Bruce suggests. Loki redeemed himself in battle and Brunnhilde had returned to her home.

“I don’t have bad habits, mortal. My bad decisions were all on purpose and I was in complete control.” Except New York, part of that was the influence of the tesseract but he would rather be strangled than admit that particular weakness.

“Banner! That is a fantastic idea! As the prince Loki should be my second in command!” Thor claps his hands together, the sound echoes over the marble interior of the palace.

Loki would usually have a mischievous twinkle in his eye at the notion of more power, in hopes to claim it all for himself. But even he knows when enough is enough, and he’d much rather avoid any responsibility that could cause any more banishment, imprisonment, disappointment, or resentful emotion.

He is simply sick and tired of being jealous of Thor. And now without Oden to further divide and alienate them, the word “brother” is less of a challenge and more of a begrudging fact.

“You couldn’t possibly trust me to be your second in command.”

“Alright not second, maybe… fifth?” It was Loki who deceived Hella, sending her into the void of space where she will hopefully stay. He deserves some trust.

“And now I’m insulted.”

Thor cringes at the delivery, trying to think of a better way to include his brother in the Kingdom’s affairs but he is swiftly called away by a royal attendant, much of the infrastructure was destroyed in the battle for Asgard, and even worse, countless good soldiers were slaughtered by Hella. Not to mention, most governing bodies were pulverized. Literally. The maids still clean the bone dust from the halls.

“Loki, maybe you should consider what he said.” Bruce used to try and ‘not my business’ his way out of most things. Really, it shouldn’t be his problem. But it doesn’t take a genius or a master of deduction to see that Thor is unpracticed in the whole ruling thing.

“It’s not a true offer, Bruce Banner.” He speaks his name with contempt. “He pities me and what I’ve become. It would simply be a consolation prize.” He scoffs. Unable to meet his eyes.

“Or maybe he actually needs help and for once you should step up and be there?” He motions between Loki and Thor who turns the corner far down the corridor.

There it is. The strike of familiar resentment for all he’s been denied- No, for all he’s squandered himself.. he mixes up the two occasionally, but the wound bleeds no less.

“You know not of what you speak, mortal. All the time he spent gallivanting on earth when he could have been preparing to rule is not my responsibility.”

“Well he spent a lot of it cleaning up your messes-“ okay Bruce should watch his tongue. There’s only so much he can say to convince him. “I’m just trying to say: whenever he talked about being king he always wanted you to be a part of it. Okay? he speaks higher about you than you really deserve.” An understatement.

Loki gets the urge to throw a dagger to his throat. However, he has a point. Thor isn’t nearly slick enough to pretend to find him redeemable all these years just to stab him in the back when he lets his guard down. He fears soon though, he will get the treatment he deserves from his brother. That Thor will turn into his father and Loki will be the scapegoat for all his problems. Deserved or not.

“It’s really adorable, the way you speak of my dear brother. Your affections for him nauseate me. As do all your other quirks.” Loki flicks his cape as he turns, chin turned up in stiff deflection.

“I get it man! Hurt people hurt people or whatever, but you know I gotta point-!”

Loki transforms into a raven and flies out a large window. Open to air out the palace from all recent death. Wishing to leave the confrontation far more swiftly than his usual form’s legs could carry him.

—---------------------------------------------------

"My King, there are outsiders seeking your audience. No one knows how they got into the palace, though they claim to wish no harm." A crooked old attendant in indigo robes brisks down the hall, keeping up with Thor's long strides. He's nearly as old as Odin was, though shows little signs of retiring. Being one of the few surviving royal attendants since Hela's coup, has instilled newfound energy within the old man.

“How peculiar, I wonder about his intentions. Did the strangers identify themselves, Old Man Selby?” Officially, his title is ‘ The Wise Attendant Selby Of The Golden Concil’ but now he is the only attendant and there is no council. Thor always preferred to speak as he saw: Old Man.

“One man claimed himself to be an ‘analyst’ of the Time Variance Authority , there is also a stoic woman in some sort of uniform that he refers to only as ‘B-15’ Not in all my millennia have I ever heard of such a thing.” Selby shook his head, there are enough problems as it is.

“I have heard of this post called ‘analyst’. From my understanding they analyze.”

“It is not the position I am lost on. Your Majesty.”

“That was my attempt at a joke, Old Man Selby. Seems as though your sense of humor is as sour as you are.” Thor chuckles nervously. In reality the fact that the old attendant has never heard of this time authority frightens Thor to the very core. However, he know that the un known is constant and never surrenders, so neither shall he.

The analyst in a perfectly tailored brown suit gawks at the gilded spires of the throne room. He strolls up and down the isle cordially complimenting the ornate architecture to himself or to his company, uniformed with a tag on her suit’s chest ‘ B-15 ’. If only he’d seen it’s opulence before Hela’s short but destructive reign. Really, he ogles because nothing is supposed to exist here at all.

Selby steps through the doorway, clearing his throat for the attention of their strange guests. The fundamental lack of palace guards, staff, and natural light pouring in from the windows–now shattered and covered with old velvet curtains–gives the attendant a small, budding sense of shame for the state of ruin the noble room has fallen to.

The two bureaucratically dressed visitors turn their gazes upon Selby, the analyst retakes his place standing next to the tall and sure woman, helmet removed and held at her side in eased attention. Thor doesn’t wait to be announced, stepping forward immediately. His presence brings a buzzing sensation to the room, along with the scent of ozone.

“Your audience with His Majesty Thor; God of Thunder; Protector of the Nine Realms; King of Asgard has been accepted.”

“Oh wow, I am-” The man goes to introduce himself, but turns to his companion with a softer, unsure edge. “Do we bow? Kneel? How low is too low?” He starts to lower.

“That will not be necessary.” Thor cuts in, taking a step closer.

“Of course,” He straightens himself offering a hand instead. “I am Mobius, this is my colleague Officer B-15. We’re from the Time Variants Authority. We make sure the flow of time moves as it should.”

“I am familiar with this greeting!” Thor shakes his hand with an enthusiastically strong grip.

Peaking around the dusty velvet curtains over the shattered stained glass windows is raven, tilting it’s head in inquisition.

—---------------------------------------------------

Brunnhilde hauled a barrel of Asgard’s strongest mead to a minor courtyard of the palace, which remained mostly untouched by Hela and her terror. Even in the serene slab of peace she cannot help but feel the dark goddess’ clutches in every fiber of plant or bloom of flower. Though, she couldn’t even escape this deathly sensation halfway across the galaxy on Sakaar: A place where Hela never once inhabited.

She scooped more drink into her tarnished goblet, aiming to wash down the lump forming in her throat. Until she heard muffled conversation from behind the door to the kitchens, in the kind of tone people use when they wish not to be heard.

“Are you sure the man you saw was… him?” The nervous voice of one of the maid’s became more clear as Brunnhilde arose and pressed her ear to the weathered wood.

“I could not mistake Hela’s executioner for any other, he wore a hood- but his face was the same ma’am I swear!”

While Hela floats pointlessly in the vacuum of space where she may never enact true revenge, her henchman will do.