#mcu dark library

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dark Shelves 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes (archivist AU)

Summary: your new job is much of the same, with a hit of new misery.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"We'll start you off with cataloguing. I trust you can handle that." James, or Bucky, whoever he is, says as he crosses his arms. "Figure we get the students to do as much. Title, creator or origin, date--"

"I'm aware. I've done a lot of it. In my previous role as an assistant. I believe this role is for junior archivist."

"Junior," he tilts his head. "It's your first day. Don't stress."

You tug on your blouse. It's hot among the shelves.

He untangles his arms and taps the table to his right. "You can set up shop here."

"I believe the role came with an office." You reply.

"Easier here," he motions to your left. "Those boxes."

You glance over at the banking boxes marked with sharpie. "Library two counties away. They had a fire. Municipality cut funding after that. We got most of their historical documents."

"You said the students usually do this?"

"It's a good learning activity. I said I'd train you." He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his front pockets. You bite on your cheek to keep it from twitching.

"I can more than handle your leftovers," you assure him.

You step past him and grab a box. You heave it up and turn awkwardly. It's not too heavy, just heavier than you expected. He comes up to you and grabs the other end of the box.

"Let me do that," he tries to slip it out of your grasp.

"I can do it--"

He forces it free so the cardboard chafes your fingers. He snorts and turns, carrying it easily to the table. He drops it without mind to the noise.

"Don't think we put heavy lifting in the job description," he rests his hand on the lid. "Don't want you hurting yourself, doll face."

"Respectfully," you circle around the table. "That's not my name."

You turn to the table as you pull out a chair. You drag the box across it and put your bag next to it. You push your sleeves up and lift the lid. You take your time as you stir in your bag. You set out your things meticulously. You have a system.

You sit as you slide out the first document. He comes around with tags and sets them by you. You thank him without looking.

"One hour for lunch. Your choice when. Noon usually works. I'm sure you'll be counting down the seconds." He drawls.

"Sounds good," you adjust your glasses.

He lingers. You tag the first document. You'll alphabetize them as you go.

"Am I missing something?" You glance up.

He stares at you, cheeks dimpling as his eyes scale you. He shakes his head.

"No, looks like you have it all figured out."

He taps the table with two fingers and pushes away. You ignore his departure even as he makes his steps especially distracting. It isn't the first time you've dealt with passive defiance. He might be your superior but you've done nothing to earn his suspicion.

You fall into the familiar with only a hint of resent. You're doing the work they give to temps. Not like it isn't important but you were looking forward to doing more than just tagging and bagging. Still, you won't complain. That's what they want.

The chafe of paper is the only noise aside from the scratch of your pen. You work efficiently as you make piles for different letter groups. A-F, G-N, so on and so on.

You pause to strip off your chest as sweat slakes down your temples. Your scalp is itchy with the heat. You tug at your collar as you blow out a deep breath.

"How are you liking it?" The deep timbre breaks your concentration. You finish the tag and sort the file into one of the stacks.

"Nothing too unusual," you answer the man. The one who called himself Rogers. "Simple enough."

"Uh huh," he leans on a shelf, one hand on his hip. "Quiet work. Easy."

"Better than sitting in the boxes untouched," you toss back.

"Ha, fair enough. They've been doing that a while." His lips curve slightly. "So, you fresh out of grad school?"

"I have experience."

"Oh, I can tell," he tilts his head. "I just figured... I read a study that attractive women tend to do better in interviews."

You flinch. Well, that didn't take long. You suppose if you cared, you would take that as a compliment.

"From my experience, competence tends to leave a better impression." You say calmly and slide out the next page.

"Seems like you have that in spades," he stands straight and nears the table. He touches the corner of the tallest stack. G-N. He touches the corner as he bends to read the top tag through his lenses. Suddenly, the paper flutters over the edge. "Oh, clumsy me." He steps back. "You know, my hands get dry in this heat. Can't seem to hold onto anything."

You look at him and your brows rise just a little. You set down your pen and stand. You round the corner of the table and bend, gathering up the pages. The brush together loudly as he backs up. You get them in hand then feel something against your trousers. You twitch then it presses firmer, right against your backside.

"Oops, sorry, it's so tight in here," Rogers says. "Archives are always so crowded."

He wiggles his pelvis so you feel him clearly through the layers of fabric. You stand up and spin away from him. You stare at him in disgust.

"Are you serious?"

"Hm? What? Look, I'm sorry about the paper. I was only looking--"

"You just--"

"Huh, imagine that. Junior archivist, not liking all this menial work so she presses up on the senior archivist, trying to get special treatment," he clucks. "She could just ask nicely. No one would need to know."

"I-- would never--"

"I'm sure. You must have a flourishing personal life."

You scoff. "You... you did it."

You look around, searching the edges of the ceilings and the corners.

"Cameras in common spaces only. The wiring is a fire hazard for the amount of paper in here." He explains. "Everything here is our little secret."

You gape at him. You shake your head and go all the way around the other side of the table. You sit and clear your throat.

"What secret?" You focus on keeping your voice steady. "I've only been cataloguing."

You set down the stack and start sorting. You ignore him as he remains. You don't look up even as you sense his movement. He rubs himself through his pants, barely a foot away.

"Lots of work to do," he growls. "I must be distracting you." You don't answer as you stay on task. He groans and drops his hand. "Alright, sweetheart. Keep up the good work."

He pets your head and walks away. As he disappears behind the shelves, you pause. You clutch the papers and stare at the blurred letters.

They're testing you. You're not going to let them win.

[mischiefmaker615]

Has anyone read this one and what are your thoughts? worth buying? I'm used to comic Loki outside of mcu Loki but do you think it is a good read?

Amazon Link

[sunshine-lux]

Clueless (viii.)

summary: how is peter supposed to make things right if y/n won't hear him out? everyone around them seems to be getting fed up with peter's behavior, especially harry. forced proximity and mj's mastermind might just be what peter needs to take his first steps in the right direction.

pairings: Stark!reader x MCU!peter parker, slight MJ x Harry Osborn muehehehe

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of violence, light swearing, maybe one or two mentions of death but nothing serious, peter being kinda annoying LOL, f!reader. i think thats it

word count: 9.9k

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School was unusually quiet.

Peter hadn’t seen or heard from Y/N all day, and it was starting to eat him alive.

He’d spotted MJ in the hall before lunch, but all she said was, “Don’t push it. Let her have some peace, at least at school.”

And he understood. He had to respect that.

He knew he screwed up — big time.

First by sidelining her to help Gwen get settled at Midtown. Then by not telling her about the change of plans with May and showing up to the gala with Gwen. Then again, by insulting her. By insulting Harry. Then again at the football game. And even more so at the party.

And then? He let Gwen kiss him in front of her. Granted, he didn’t know she was there but it was about the principle.

He got it. He really got it.

Because even he was spiraling when Y/N started spending more time with Harry. And now, it felt like he’d practically handed her over on a silver platter.

Still… he was excited to see her again.

Even if it meant getting electrocuted or punched in the face. He’d take it. He’d take anything as long as she’d look him in the eyes again.

He walked into the training room at the compound, slightly wide eyed by the new installations and equipment intended for Avengers use only. Though after Berlin, he and Y/N were the only ones using it.

He dropped his bag on the bench and started wrapping his hands.

And then the door opened.

Y/N walked out of the locker room, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, wearing a dark purple two-piece sports set. Her hands were already wrapped, and she didn’t even glance at him as she stepped onto the mat to stretch.

Not a word. Not a look.

And Peter felt every inch of that silence.

Peter stood at the edge of the mat, watching as Y/N continued to stretch like he wasn’t even there.

He cleared his throat. “Hey… Y/N/N—uh, Y/N.”

Nothing.

He tried again. “I just think maybe we should talk.”

Y/N didn’t even look at him. “We’re here to train. Not talk.”

Peter stepped onto the mat, hands still fidgeting with the bandages. “We might as well do both.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she snapped.

And then she swung. A clean punch — sharp, calculated — landing squarely in his ribs. He stumbled back, just in time for her to hit him again and this time, she shocked him.

Peter yelped, jumping back with wide eyes. “Okay—ow. I deserved that.”

Y/N didn’t stop. She moved fast, fluid, furious.

 He dodged one blow. Missed the next.

This wasn’t sparring. 

This was punishment.

And honestly? He was fine with that.

He moved fast.

Peter ducked under her arm and gently tackled her to the mat, his hands moving instinctively.

Without thinking, Peter shot a web. He pinned her wrists to the mat above her head, locking them in place.

Y/N jerked on the mat, struggling slightly. “Did you just—? Are you serious?!”

Peter held up both hands, breathless. “Just—wait! Please.”

She glared at him. “You’re actually insane.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know I am. But I just—just listen, okay? Please.”

Y/N didn’t respond. But she didn’t shock the webs either.

So Peter took it as a sign to keep going.

“I didn’t mean for Gwen to kiss me,” he said. “In the library. I didn’t know she was going to. It happened so fast. And I—I just reacted.”

Y/N stared at him, stone faced.

Peter’s voice cracked slightly.

“I don’t like Gwen. Not like that. Not even close. I wish—god, Y/N, I wish I’d kissed you instead. Every second of every day since the party, all I’ve thought about is that moment. And how badly I fucked it up.”

A long silence.

Then Y/N’s voice, low and bitter. “Well. Did you tell her that?”

Peter blinked. “Huh?”

“Did you tell Gwen,” she repeated, “that you don’t actually like her? Did you tell her that you like me? That you’re in love with me, even? That you’d rather kiss me than her?”

Peter opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then, quietly— “…No. I didn’t.”

Y/N didn’t move.

She stayed there, beneath him, wrists still webbed to the mat.

Waiting. One beat. Two.

And then, eyes locked with his, she said it—

 “If you want me? Then show me.”

Peter didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t do anything.

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose then lit up her hands.

The webs sparked and hissed as they disintegrated. She shoved him off her, hard. He landed flat on his back.

She stood over him, breathing hard.

“These are all just empty words to me now,” she said coldly. “I don’t care about what you have to say.”

She turned away. Took two steps.

Then paused.

“I’m so tired of the mind games, Peter.”

And then she was gone.

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The halls of Midtown felt unusually loud that morning. Or maybe it was just Peter— his own thoughts ricocheting too hard inside his head.

He hadn’t slept much after training.

Not after the way she looked at him. Not after the way she walked away. Not after what she said.

"If you want me?Then show me."

He kept replaying it. Over and over. And the worst part? He didn’t blame her. Not even a little.

So when he saw her—finally saw her—walking toward her third period, backpack slung over one shoulder, head ducked down slightly under her hoodie, his heart jumped into his throat.

Now or never.

“Y/N—Y/N/N, wait—can we talk for a second?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. Didn’t even acknowledge his voice.

Peter quickened his pace, cutting through a group of freshmen to catch up to her. His chest already felt tight.

“Please, I just—”

She reached the classroom door and yanked it open.

Then shut it in his face before he could say another word.

A few students inside glanced up at the sound. One of them snickered. Peter blinked at the glass panel for a long beat, the sting sharp and immediate.

He sighed. Shoulders sagging.

Then turned around and walked back the way he came.

Slower this time.

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Y/N spotted MJ by her locker between periods and didn’t even pause. She grabbed her friend’s hand and immediately broke into a sprint.

MJ stumbled after her. “Why are we running?!”

“Just trust me!”

They bolted past two security guards, through the gym doors, and out onto the football field, gasping for air by the time they reached the empty bleachers.

MJ bent forward, hands on her knees. “God, what is it with you and Parker just dragging me wherever you please?”

Y/N threw herself onto the grass and sprawled out dramatically. “I need to tell you about what happened during training.”

MJ dropped her backpack with a sigh and sat down beside her, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. “Alright. Spill.”

They split a sandwich and a bag of chips, the sun warming their backs as Y/N recounted every excruciating detail— Peter webbing her to the mat, being on top of her, rambling about the Gwen kiss, telling her he wanted to kiss her instead. The moment she told him "If you want me, then show me.”

MJ chewed slowly, brows raised.

“It’s not ideal,” she said finally. “But at least he’s showing up. And trying. That’s something, right?”

Y/N stared up at the sky. “Maybe. I just… I don’t know what to do with that. What does trying even mean if he won’t do anything?”

MJ nodded. “Fair. But… does Harry know about all this?”

Y/N blinked. “No. Not yet.”

“Well,” MJ said with a smirk, “he’s gonna be even more pissed off at Peter when he hears about this.”

Y/N laughed. “You’ve been talking to him a lot lately.”

MJ shrugged, trying (and failing) to be casual. “I mean… mostly about the messy love triangle. And other stuff.”

“Mhmm.” Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, grinning. “I wouldn’t hate it, you know. If my two best friends dated.”

MJ stared at her. “Oh my god. Shut the hell up.”

She stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth just as the bell rang in the distance.

Y/N stood with a groan, brushing grass from her jeans. “C’mon. Back to hell.”

They walked off the field side by side, the tension from earlier momentarily eased.

The hallway was buzzing with post lunch energy, students crowding around lockers and sluggishly heading to class. Y/N and MJ had just stepped back inside when Peter spotted them.

He was halfway down the hall when he froze. There she was. Laughing. Actually laughing. It hit him like a gut punch.

He weaved past a group of seniors, practically speed walking toward her.

“Y/N!”

She didn’t stop walking.

“Y/N, please—just for a second!”

MJ winced. “Oh god.”

Peter finally caught up to them just outside their classroom.

“I just want to talk—”

Y/N didn’t even glance at him. She reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and spoke over her shoulder.

“I can’t hear you.”

Then she disappeared into the classroom.

Peter stood there, blinking. “She—did she actually just pretend not to hear me?”

MJ looked at him with the flattest expression possible. “Peter. Babe. That was rough.”

He ran a hand down his face. “Was it that bad?”

“You sounded like a kicked puppy,” MJ said. “And she walked away like you’re pestering her.”

Peter groaned. “I’m trying, okay?”

“I know,” MJ sighed. “And hey, I’m rooting for you. Kinda. But maybe dial it back one notch? You’re losing dignity by the second.”

He glanced at the classroom door, then back at MJ. “I don’t care about dignity. I just want her back.”

MJ’s face softened a little.

“Then… good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

The bell rang. MJ patted him on the arm and walked in, leaving Peter alone in the hallway, still staring at the door like it might magically open again.

It didn’t.

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The final bell rang, but Peter didn’t move. He stood near the lockers, scanning the hallway like she might still be there. But Y/N was gone.

He checked the front steps. The courtyard. The back lot. Nothing.

Just like that—vanished. Again.

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Later that afternoon, Peter stood on Gwen’s porch, eyes heavy, hoodie wrinkled, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. His shoulders slumped like he was carrying something too big to put down.

Gwen opened the door with a soft smile.

“You look like crap,” she said gently.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, stepping inside.

They spread out their notes on her kitchen table, but Peter wasn’t really there. He kept fidgeting with his pen, glancing at the door, zoning out.

Gwen tilted her head.

“You okay?”

He paused.

Then, finally, he sighed and shook his head.

“No. Not really.”

She stayed quiet, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About everything. I shouldn’t have let things get this far.”

Gwen leaned back in her chair. “Peter—”

“I don’t like you,” he said softly, but firmly. “Not like that.”

It came out like ripping off a bandage. Raw, but necessary.

Gwen blinked. Once. Twice. Her expression barely shifted, but her hands clenched a little in her lap.

Peter swallowed.

“You’re amazing, and kind, and funny, and any guy would be lucky to—”

“Yeah,” Gwen said, cutting him off gently. “I know.”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed again.

“I just thought…” Gwen started, then stopped herself. Her voice was quieter now. “I thought if I tried hard enough, maybe I could make you like me. Even if it was fake. Even if it was just to make her jealous.”

She gave a soft, self deprecating laugh. “It felt good. To be chosen. To be picked by you.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry.

“But I always knew you were in love with her,” Gwen continued, gaze falling to her hands. “I always knew you weren’t mine. And you’re not mine to lose either.”

She looked up at him again. “So… I’m not mad. Not really. Just tired.”

Peter let out a breath like it knocked something loose inside his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said, and smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

They sat in silence for a while after that. The air between them finally cleared but it didn’t feel better. Just… honest.

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Peter slumped into his seat just as the bell rang for second period. Ned was already there, digging through his backpack for a pencil. He looked up as Peter dropped his stuff on the desk with a groan.

“Okay, first of all—hi,” Ned said. “Second—what happened? I was out yesterday, I had a bad stomach ache, but MJ texted me something cryptic about you getting electrocuted?”

Peter blinked at him. “Oh. Right. You missed everything.”

Ned gave him a look. “Well? Start talking.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “We had to train together. At the compound. Just us.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “No supervision?”

“She shocked me like three times.”

“Okay but… that’s kind of progress?”

Peter ignored that. “She didn’t want to talk. But I made her. Not in a bad way—like, I talked and she listened. Sort of. She told me she’s tired of the mind games. That if I really want her, I have to show her.”

Ned nodded slowly. “Okay… that’s huge. Right?”

Peter made a face. “It gets worse. After training, she ignored me all day yesterday. At school. Wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t talk to me. Literally slammed a classroom door in my face.”

“Oof.”

Peter leaned forward. “So last night I went to Gwen’s.”

Ned blinked. “You what—”

“Not like that. For the project. I told her I don’t like her. That I never really did. That I—” he exhaled. “That I’m in love with Y/N.”

Ned stared at him. “So… you talked to Gwen. You cleared it up. That’s what Y/N wanted. Why is she still mad at you?”

Peter pulled out his phone. Opened his messages. Tilted the screen so Ned could see.

Peter: Y/N please Peter: i’m trying Peter: i need to talk to you Peter: i meant what i said at training Peter: i miss you Peter: just give me a chance

All left on read.

Peter’s voice cracked, just slightly. “Because she doesn’t know, Ned. She won’t talk to me. How am I supposed to show her I’m ready and I’m all about her if she’s just ignoring me?”

Ned looked between Peter and the phone screen, face falling. “Dude…”

Peter dropped his head into his arms on the desk. “I’m gonna throw up.”

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By the end of the school day, Peter was practically losing his mind.

Y/N had done an annoyingly good job at avoiding him all day. He hadn’t seen her once—not at lunch, not in the halls, not even in the distance.

But he knew she was there.

He passed by her locker during fifth and caught the faintest trace of her perfume.

Of course she was there.

She just didn’t want to see him.

Now, standing at the top of the school steps, Peter finally caught sight of her—walking beside MJ, her bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, laughing at something MJ said. And just ahead, leaning against his sleek black Mercedes, was Harry Osborn.

Peter felt his pulse spike.

He moved before he could stop himself.

“Y/N!” he called, jogging down the steps. “Y/N, stop running from me—please, we need to talk.”

Y/N turned her head just slightly, barely acknowledging him. “I’m kinda busy right now, Parker.”

Peter’s chest tightened. He kept going. “Then when?! When, Y/N?! I’ve been trying to talk to you for two days now and you won’t let me!”

By now, MJ had stopped walking. Her mouth was tight, her eyes flicking between the two of them anxiously. Harry, who had been smiling lazily at Y/N just moments ago, straightened up, the amusement slowly slipping from his face as he started walking toward them.

“Peter…” MJ said quietly. “Not here.”

“No! Yes, here!” Peter snapped, eyes still locked on Y/N. “Y/N, please—how am I supposed to make things right if you don’t let me?!”

It was raw. Desperate. His voice cracked on the last word.

Harry stepped between them.

“Okay, Parker. Enough,” he said coolly, jaw tight. “I get that you need to explain yourself to her. But she doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Simple as that.”

Peter’s expression twisted. Anger flaring in his eyes.

He stepped forward. Just slightly. “This doesn’t concern you, Osborn.”

Harry didn’t flinch. “She’s my friend too.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. MJ exhaled hard through her nose.

Peter's fists clenched at his sides.

“I’ve known her longer,” he said, his voice sharp. Defensive.

Harry didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, that’s not true.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to—”

Y/N cut in fast, tired and exasperated. “Okay. We are not doing this. We’re not playing the ‘Who Knows Y/N Better’ game. That’s not what this is.” She turned, grabbing Harry’s sleeve. “Let’s go, Harry.”

Peter stepped forward, almost pleading now. “You’re really gonna go with him? You seriously rather go with him than just talk to me?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

Peter’s chest rose and fell like he was fighting to breathe.

Harry’s hand curled into a fist, just barely.

MJ stood frozen, eyes wide.

“You don’t get to play the victim, Peter,” Y/N said, low and furious. “You don’t get to act like I’m the one being unfair here.”

Peter looked like she’d hit him.

“I’m not playing anything!” he snapped. “I’ve been trying to fix this—you won’t even give me the chance!”

“Because every time I do, you find a new way to make it worse!”

Harry stepped closer, voice cold. “She said let’s go, Parker. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Peter’s glare shifted to him. “Stay out of it.”

“I’m not the one who made her cry for two straight weeks.”

Peter’s face crumpled at Harry’s words.

“I know I made her cry,” he snapped. “You think I don’t hate myself for that? You think this has been easy for me?”

Harry scoffed, stepping forward again. “You’ve been ‘tortured’ for what—two days? Try watching someone you care about break over and over because some idiot keeps yanking her heart around.”

“That’s not fair—”

“What’s not fair is how you keep showing up like you’re the victim when you’re the one who keeps breaking her, man.”

Peter’s fists balled. “You don’t even know what’s going on between us—”

“I know enough.”

And then Harry shoved him.

It wasn’t a light push.

Peter stumbled back a step, caught off guard—but his instincts kicked in fast. He surged forward, grabbed Harry by the front of his hoodie, and shoved him right back.

“Okay—OKAY!” MJ shouted. “Stop it!”

Y/N grabbed Peter’s wrist, trying to pull him off. “Both of you, stop—”

Harry didn’t stop.

He swung.

The punch cracked against Peter’s jaw, sharp and ugly, sending him stumbling sideways into the bike rack with a grunt.

“Harry!” Y/N yelled.

Peter’s head snapped back up, blood blooming on his lip.

And that was it.

He lunged.

The two of them crashed to the pavement hard, fists swinging, legs scrambling for leverage. MJ was yelling, Y/N was trying to drag one of them off, but it was chaos—pure, violent chaos.

Peter got a hit in to Harry’s ribs.

Harry elbowed Peter in the gut and went for his face again.

“GET OFF HIM!” Y/N shouted.

She shocked the ground—not hard, but enough to jolt them both.

Peter flinched. Harry cursed under his breath.

They both stilled.

Breathing hard. Bloody. Bruised.

“You’re both idiots,” Y/N hissed.

Peter looked up at her from where he knelt. Hair mussed. Lip split. Eyes glassy.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he said quietly.

But Y/N was already turning away.

“C’mon,” she muttered to Harry, who was still trying to catch his breath. “Let’s go.”

MJ stayed behind for a second, crouching beside Peter as he sat on the curb.

“Was it worth it?” she asked softly.

Peter didn’t answer.

He just wiped the blood from his lip and stared at the ground.

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Harry slammed the apartment door behind them, practically shaking with anger. His jaw was clenched tight, his knuckles still red and raw.

“Fucking Parker,” he growled, storming across the room. “I swear to God, the way he acts like he’s some heartbroken little hero—like he’s the one we should all feel bad for—”

“Okay, calm down, tough guy,” MJ muttered as she kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch. “You already punched him.”

“That wasn’t enough.”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She stood near the door, frozen. Her hands were shaking a little.

Harry turned, catching her expression and his whole posture softened instantly.

“Shit,” he said, voice lowering. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

She blinked at him.

“This is so not like me,” he continued, stepping closer. “But after everything you’ve told me, everything I’ve seen—I just couldn’t hold back anymore. Watching him treat you like you were disposable, like your feelings didn’t matter—god, it made me insane. It’s not fair to you. None of this is. And I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

Her lip trembled.

“You didn’t,” she whispered. “I dragged you into this.”

Harry shook his head. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. I walked in on my own.”

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She turned her head, wiping them quickly—but Harry was already there, pulling her into a hug.

She folded into him, letting herself shake. Letting the tears fall.

He held her tightly, warm and steady.

And then, gently, he kissed her forehead.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Always.”

From the couch, MJ watched in silence—then glanced at Y/N. “If you wanna check on him… you can. You don’t have to stay.”

Y/N sniffled, stepping back slightly to look at them both.

“I can’t leave Harry like this…”

Harry gave her a crooked smile. “I think he got the worst of it, sweetheart. I’ll be okay.”

He paused.

“But if you need me to punch him again, just call me.”

Y/N let out a teary laugh, even as she grabbed a tissue off the counter.

“I won’t be long,” she mumbled, heading for the door.

Once she was gone, MJ got up and crossed the room, tossing Harry a towel from the bathroom.

“You good, champ?”

Harry smirked despite the swelling in his cheek. “I just threw hands with Parker. I’m incredible.”

“Yeah yeah,” MJ said, rolling her eyes as she wet the towel. “Sit your ass down. Let’s patch you up before the bruises set in.”

Harry winced as MJ dabbed the damp towel against the cut on his brow.

“Ow—fuck, MJ, gentle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” MJ deadpanned. “Didn’t realize the delicate trust fund baby couldn’t handle a paper towel.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t pull away. The swelling on his cheekbone was worse now that the adrenaline had worn off.

“I gotta say,” he muttered, glancing at his reflection in the TV screen, “I didn’t think Parker had it in him. Kid’s built like a praying mantis.”

MJ stiffened just slightly. “Yeah, well… he’s got sleeper build.”

Harry snorted. “What does he bench, like… 90?”

MJ smiled tight, her hand hovering as she gently blotted the bruise. “You’d be surprised.”

They both went quiet for a beat. The soft hum of the air conditioning filled the silence as MJ moved around the couch to grab the antiseptic.

She returned, kneeling beside him again.

Harry watched her hands work—calm, careful, uncharacteristically delicate. For someone who wore sarcasm like armor, she was surprisingly gentle.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

MJ looked up.

“For what?”

“For… helping me not make it worse.”

MJ blinked. “You started a fist fight in front of the school steps. I don’t think we get to claim the moral high ground here.”

“Still,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

Their eyes locked. Her hand was still on his cheek, the towel long forgotten. The tension stretched, sharp and fragile.

Neither of them moved.

Then—something shifted.

Harry’s gaze flicked to her mouth. MJ didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

And then, just barely, she leaned in.

Harry did too.

It was maybe two inches. Maybe less.

But then—

They both pulled back.

Fast.

Harry coughed. MJ turned abruptly, standing up a little too quickly and pretending to fix the towel on the counter.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “You’ve officially ruined my afternoon. I hope you’re happy.”

Harry leaned his head back with a small smirk, hiding the flush in his face.

“Ecstatic.”

MJ didn’t turn around.

And neither of them brought it up again.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The apartment window creaked faintly.

Peter’s head snapped up from his pillow, brow furrowing as he sat up. He was still in the same clothes from earlier, his knuckles bruised and his heart somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

Another soft noise.

And then—

She appeared.

Y/N.

Climbing up the fire escape like it was second nature, hair a little messy, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands. Her eyes met his through the glass, cautious, uncertain.

Peter scrambled up and unlocked the window, sliding it open before she could change her mind.

She stepped inside silently. No words. No sarcastic greeting. Just… walked in.

Peter stared at her.

“You—what are you—?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said softly.

Peter swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I know.”

But she didn’t leave.

And he didn’t ask her to.

Instead, she crossed the room quietly, crouched beside where he’d left the first aid kit on his desk, and opened it. She pulled out antiseptic and a cotton pad, then sat down next to him on the bed.

Still, not a word.

Peter flinched slightly as she dabbed at the cut on his cheek.

Her hand paused for a second.

“Is Harry okay?” Peter asked quietly. His voice cracked a little on the name.

Y/N hesitated. “Yeah. MJ’s with him.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Good. That’s… good.”

She went back to cleaning the cut.

He watched her.

Watched the way her eyes stayed low, the way her fingers moved gently despite everything. Like she still couldn’t stand to see him hurt, even now.

Her hand trembled slightly.

And when she blinked, a tear slipped down her cheek.

Peter reached up without thinking. Wiped it away gently with his thumb.

She leaned into his touch.

Just for a second.

Just enough.

His hand lingered against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut.

She was so close.

But they both knew it wasn’t time.

“This is not how you make it up to me, by the way,” she whispered.

Peter exhaled hard, a broken little sound caught in his throat.

“I know,” he said. “I’m really fucking sorry.”

Neither of them said anything after that.

Peter reached for her hesitantly, and she let him. Fell into his arms like she was made for it. Like she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

They held each other for a long time. Just breathing. Holding on.

No kiss.

No promises.

But she was here.

She came to him.

And he knew what that meant.

She was still waiting.

The ball was in his court.

Again.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

When Y/N finally stepped into the Tower that night, the lights were low—quiet in the way that only the private floors could be.

“Welcome home, Miss Stark,” FRIDAY chimed gently. “Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts are out for a date night. Would you like me to alert them that you’ve returned?”

Y/N dropped her bag by the couch and shook her head. “No. Let them have their night.” She padded across the room and collapsed into the corner of the sofa, knees pulled to her chest.

The living room was dim. City lights filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything felt too quiet. Too still.

Her phone buzzed once beside her.

Harry.

 i’m okay, in case you were wondering. also— don’t feel bad. i knew what i was doing when i stepped in. your feelings for him are real. and if that means he’s the guy you end up with, then i just hope he’s worth it. i’ll never hold today against you, sweetheart.

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard against the sting in her eyes.

She didn’t text back.

Instead, she turned her phone face-down, curled tighter into herself, and cried quietly into the sleeve of her hoodie—her other hand still faintly aching from patching Peter up.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The buses lined the front of Midtown like usual, bright yellow and humming with noise. But the vibe? Way off.

Peter climbed the steps a little slower than usual, scanning the rows. Y/N was already seated halfway down, headphones on, one leg crossed over the other, MJ next to her.

She looked up for a second. Their eyes met. Then she turned away.

Peter sighed and made his way to the back.

“Dude!” Ned whisper shouted from his seat. “What the hell happened to your face?!”

Peter dropped into the spot next to him. “Harry happened.”

Ned blinked. “Harry Osborn?!”

Peter nodded. “Yup.”

“Wait—did you win?”

“Not even close.”

Ned stared. “You’re literally Spider-Man. How did you lose that fight, dude?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly why I had to pull my punches.”

“Oh,” Ned said. “Yeah, I guess no one would believe it if your scrawny ass won any fight.”

Peter frowned. “Dude. I have sleeper build…”

“Sure, man,” Ned said, patting his arm. “So why did you guys fight?”

Peter snorted and leaned back against the seat. “We fought because he said some stuff. And I said some stuff. And Y/N was there, and I was trying to talk to her, and then—yeah. It just kind of… happened.”

Ned raised a brow. “So like… did anything good come out of it?”

Peter’s voice softened. “She came over last night. After. Helped me clean up. She didn’t really say much, but… she stayed.”

Ned nodded slowly. “So… progress?”

Peter shrugged. “Define progress.”

A few rows ahead, Y/N leaned her head against the window, watching the sidewalk blur past. MJ sipped iced coffee beside her, lazily scrolling her phone.

“Shit really hit the fan yesterday,” MJ muttered. “I’ve never seen Peter like that.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath. “It was a lot.”

“You good?”

“Not really.”

MJ nodded. “Fair.”

There was a pause before Y/N added, “I think he meant it. All of it. I just don’t know if it’s too late.”

MJ didn’t push. She just opened her texts and opened her chat with Ned:

MJ: what the hell are we gonna do now we’re really children of divorce

Ned’s phone buzzed a second later.

Ned:i want thanksgiving with Y/N but i’ll do new years with peter 😔

MJ turned her phone so Y/N could see. Despite everything, she smiled.

It was going to be a long day. But maybe not the worst one.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The buses pulled into the parking lot of the aquarium just after ten. The sky was overcast, the kind of gray that made everything feel a little softer. The junior class filed out in clumps, buzzing with energy.

Their teachers barely tried to wrangle them.

“As long as you stay inside the aquarium and check in at 2:30, do whatever you want. Walk around, go to the touch pools, hit the cafe, go to the 3D show—just don’t disappear,” one of them announced, already halfway over it.

Peter hovered near the back of the group, eyes scanning until he found her.

Y/N stood off to the side, backpack slung over one shoulder. MJ was next to her, arms crossed. They were listening to the instructions, kind of. Mostly, Y/N was sneaking glances at Peter.

He was doing the same.

As the group broke apart and started spilling into the exhibit halls, MJ gently grabbed Y/N’s wrist and tugged her toward the left.

Ned clapped Peter on the shoulder and pulled him toward the right.

But both Y/N and Peter looked over their shoulders the entire time, stealing glances until they turned opposite corners.

MJ sighed. “You’re dying to talk to him.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

A few paces behind, MJ pulled out her phone.

MJ: this is so annoying       i miss hanging out as a group

Ned: imagine how much fun we’d be having rn dude         i would’ve made you scream in the shark tunnel by now

MJ: i would’ve pushed you into the touch pool by now :(

Ned: we need to get them together at one point         like a mission         operation reunite the idiots

MJ stifled a laugh, glancing over at Y/N, who was still walking quietly beside her, occasionally staring a little too long at a jellyfish banner on the wall.

MJ: yeah       let’s be the heroes they don’t deserve

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The café was warm and dim, filled with quiet chatter and the hum of the espresso machine. Most of the students were still wandering the exhibits, so Y/N and MJ had managed to snag a booth near the back.

Y/N sat slouched, her matcha latte barely touched. The strawberry foam had started to collapse.

MJ stared at it. “Okay, this sucks.”

Y/N didn’t look up.

“I get that you’re upset,” MJ continued, peeling the wrapper off a granola bar. “And still shaken up from last night. And trust me, so am I. But you can’t let Parker ruin the aquarium for you. You love aquariums.”

“I know,” Y/N said quietly.

MJ eyed her. “You haven’t even touched your matcha. You always finish your matcha.”

Y/N shrugged, still poking at the lid with her straw.

“I want to talk to him,” she admitted after a beat. “God, I do. But I don’t even know what I’d say.”

MJ stayed quiet.

Y/N exhaled. “I went to check on him last night. I patched him up. That was me putting the ball in his court. And I meant it. I’m not gonna pursue him anymore. If he wants to fix this—really fix it—he has to come to me.”

MJ nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

She took a sip of her iced coffee, then raised a brow. “Did you tell Tony and Pepper about the fight?”

Y/N snorted. “Hell no.”

MJ laughed. “Yeah, maybe don’t. I don’t even want to imagine Pepper’s reaction. She’d lose her shit.”

Y/N cracked a smile. “Imagine my dad, bro. I think part of him would be disappointed to know Peter lost the fight.”

“That was so bad,” MJ groaned, laughing. “You could see it on his face, too. He was holding himself back the whole time. Like he knew he could land a punch but didn’t want to.”

She took another sip of coffee.

“Honestly? I’m kind of grateful for that,” she added. “It was easier to clean up Harry’s face.”

Y/N looked up.

“Oh?” she said, perking up just a little.

MJ immediately raised a hand. “No. Don’t start.”

Y/N grinned, already leaning forward. “You’re deflecting.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Harry.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Mmm.”

“There isn’t. That would never work out.”

“Sure.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “He’s rich. He’s dramatic. He probably owns, like, silk cashmere underwear. And I’m… me.”

Y/N sipped her matcha for the first time. “Right.”

“We argue like, every day. He makes everything a performance. I hate when he calls me ‘darling.’”

“But you like it a little, though.”

MJ didn’t answer.

Y/N just smiled.

“Mhm,” she said smugly, leaning back in the booth.

MJ groaned. “This is why I didn’t want to bring it up.”

There was a beat of silence as they both slowly drank, letting it settle.

Then Y/N shifted. “Is this a safe space?”

MJ narrowed her eyes. “Are you for real right now? Do you even need to ask?”

Y/N bit back a smile. “Well, because I want to say something but I know it’s gonna piss you off.”

MJ sighed dramatically. “Ugh. What.”

Y/N leaned in, lowering her voice like she was confessing a sin.

“...It was kinda hot,” she whispered. “I mean, I’ve trained with Peter before, but this was different. Maybe it was the fact he was fighting himself to pull his punches. My body almost had a reaction.”

She sipped her matcha all innocently.

MJ recoiled. “You are so gross. I can’t believe you’d find that attractive…”

Then, under her breath: “Me too, though.”

Y/N cackled.

“I knew it! You’re not immune to two conventionally attractive guys fighting!”

MJ covered her face. “I just didn’t know Trust Fund Osborn had it in him, okay? It caught me off guard.”

“So you admit it?” Y/N said, already sliding out of the booth. “You think Harry punching Peter in the face was hot?”

“No! I did not say that!” MJ protested, scrambling after her as Y/N laughed and walked away.

“Y/N/N, I didn’t say that!” MJ called again, chasing her out the café.

Y/N just grinned over her shoulder. “Too late! You’re in denial!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The gift shop was crowded with middle schoolers, their shrieks echoing off the glass walls as they dug through bins of plush stingrays and shark teeth necklaces.

Peter stood awkwardly near the bracelet rack, flipping a blue and purple woven one between his fingers. It had a tiny lightning bolt charm attached to the center.

He swallowed. “This… reminds me of Y/N.”

Ned, holding an octopus plushie, looked over. “Then buy it for her.”

Peter blinked. “Do you think she’d wear it?”

Ned gave him a look.

“You ask as if you don’t know her. She wears that necklace May got her for Christmas every day.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“She wears that dumb red bracelet my Lola gave her.”

Peter smiled, remembering. “The one with the black dots?”

Ned nodded. “Exactly. Y/N is the most sentimental person I know, bro. You could give her a gum wrapper and she’d find a way to turn it into a keepsake.”

Peter looked back at the bracelet.

It wasn’t fancy. It cost $6.99. But it was her favorite colors, and the lightning bolt made something ache in his chest.

“…Okay, fine,” he muttered, snatching it off the rack and heading for the register.

Ned grinned. “Softie.”

“Shut up.”

Peter paid in cash and pocketed the bracelet, heart thudding just a little faster than normal.

He didn’t know when he’d give it to her.

But he would.

Eventually.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N was in the bathroom, rinsing her hands at the sink and frowning at her reflection. Her eyes were still a little puffy, but she looked mostly put together. She sighed and dried her hands on a paper towel, before pulling out a lipgloss from her bag to reapply.

Outside, MJ leaned against the wall, scrolling through her phone.

That’s when Peter and Ned turned the corner.

MJ looked up and immediately snorted. “You got your ass beat, Spider-Man.”

Peter groaned. “For the last time, I had to lose that fight. You think Y/N would even breathe in my direction if I’d actually hurt Harry? She’s barely talking to me now. Imagine if I didn’t pull my punches.”

MJ raised an eyebrow. “For the record? She’s dying to talk to you.”

Peter blinked. “She is?”

“I’m serious,” MJ said, stepping closer. “You know what she told me? She said she thought it was hot. Something about you pulling your punches really did something to her.”

Peter’s entire face lit up red.

Ned nearly doubled over laughing. “DUDE. You’re so red right now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and talk to her!”

“I—I shouldn’t bother her right now,” Peter muttered.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Okay, listen to me very carefully. She’s been wanting to go to the jellyfish room all day. I’m taking her there in like an hour. Then I’m going to fake a bathroom run, you’re gonna come in, and you’re gonna talk to her.”

Peter looked like he might explode. “And say what?!”

“Apologize. Start making it up to her. Do something.” MJ crossed her arms. “Now go. Before she sees you out here.”

“I—I got her something,” Peter said, fumbling into his hoodie pocket. “It’s not much but—”

“Perfect,” MJ said, already waving him away. “You’ve got an in. Now move.”

Ned was practically vibrating. “YES!! Peter, it’s your chance! I’ll guard the door so no one else goes in!”

Peter took a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do this.”

MJ rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “God, you’re pathetic.”

The boys darted off down the hall just as the bathroom door creaked open.

Y/N stepped out, brows knitting. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not,” MJ said quickly, straightening. “It’s nothing.”

Y/N gave her a look. “Ohhh. Did Harry text you?”

MJ blanched. “Y/N, no! Stop it.”

Y/N just smirked, falling into step beside her. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“You sooo are.”

“I’m gonna throw you into the shark tank.”

“Worth it.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Peter paced in slow, tight circles near the edge of the stingray touch pool, eyes darting around as if Y/N might materialize out of thin air.

“She’s not here yet,” Ned said, arms crossed. “You still have time to practice.”

Peter groaned. “I don’t need to practice.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then just freeze like a moron in an hour.”

Peter stopped pacing. “Fine. Okay. Let’s do it.”

Ned perked up. “Great. Pretend I’m Y/N. Start talking.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “This is so dumb.”

“Come on, you’re the one who said she makes your brain melt. Let’s fix that.” Ned cleared his throat, then dramatically pretended to flipped his hair over one shoulder. “Hi Peter. I’m not mad, I’m just emotionally repressed and you hurt my feelings but I’m gonna pretend I don’t care because I’m an icon.”

Peter snorted. “That was actually—way too accurate.”

“Thank you.” Ned nodded. “Now go. Speak from the heart.”

Peter took a breath. “Y/N, I’m really sorry for—”

“No. You gotta look me in the eyes and say it like you mean it.” Ned batted his lashes. “Make me swoon.”

Peter cracked up. He doubled over, laughing. “I can’t do this.”

Ned threw his hands up. “Whatever. At least you tried.”

Peter wiped at his eyes, still smiling. “How are you better at pretending to be Y/N than I am at talking to her?”

Ned smirked. “Because I’m emotionally stable. Unlike some people.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”

“You love me. Now go make your move, lover boy.”

Peter and Ned ducked behind the oversized “Aquatic Life in Motion” display, poorly camouflaged by a rack of reusable tote bags just as they heard the girl’s voices approaching.

“They’re coming,” Ned hissed, peeking out.

Sure enough, Y/N and MJ strolled into view, mid-conversation, heading straight for the jellyfish room.

Peter held his breath.

Y/N didn’t see them. She walked right past, matcha in hand, shoulders hunched like she was trying not to feel anything at all.

But MJ caught sight of the boys instantly. Her eyes flicked to Peter. Then Ned. Then back to Peter.

And then she smirked.

“Ohhh,” MJ said suddenly, clutching her stomach. “I have to pee.”

Y/N blinked. “We just got here.”

“No, yeah, but—don’t come with me. I’ll be back in a bit. Just stay here. With the vibes. It’s nice in here.”

Before Y/N could argue, MJ spun on her heel and practically sprinted out the door. She didn’t stop until she reached Peter and Ned.

“Now’s your chance, Parker,” she said, catching her breath. “She’s in there. She’s got her back turned. I bought you five minutes—don’t blow it.”

Peter swallowed. Hard. “Okay. Okay.”

MJ grabbed the door. “We’ll guard it. Go.”

Ned gave him a solid shove. “You got this, man.”

Peter stepped through the doors—and they closed behind him with a soft click.

The room was dimly lit, blue and violet light rippling across the walls from the glowing jellyfish tanks. Y/N stood alone, facing the largest one, her back to the entrance.

She was still holding her drink.

Peter took a step forward.

His voice was soft. “Y/N/N?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t turn. But she’d heard him.

Another step.

This was it.

The room glowed in soft purples and shifting blues, bioluminescent jellyfish pulsing slowly behind the glass. Y/N stood still, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, matcha long forgotten in her hand.

Peter hesitated—then took a deep breath.

“Y/N/N.”

She didn’t turn around. Not yet.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now,” he started, voice low, thick. “And I don’t blame you. But I have to say this. Please.”

A beat.

Then, slowly, Y/N looked over her shoulder.

Peter stepped closer. His voice didn’t shake, but it was clearly coming from a boy who had been thinking about this for days.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. For sidelining you when Gwen transferred—when I should’ve been paying attention to how you were feeling. For not telling you my plans changed that night. For showing up with her at the gala and acting like that wouldn’t hurt you.”

Y/N’s gaze dropped. But she didn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry for the way I talked about you. About Harry. I was jealous and petty and stupid. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you when I should’ve been. For being so wrapped up in my own stuff that I didn’t see what was happening with you. And I’m sorry for acting like a child at the football game, like you were supposed to just know what I was feeling when I didn’t say a word.”

Y/N finally turned to face him, arms still crossed, but her expression softer now.

Peter’s voice cracked a little.

“I’m sorry for not kissing you at the party. I think about that moment every day, and how much I wanted to—but I froze. I wanted it so bad. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you.”

He smiled, just a little.

“That day you showed up at my apartment with Tony. And I realized I wasn’t just meeting Iron Man—I was meeting you. And you were the scariest person I’d ever seen. And the most beautiful.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’m sorry for letting Gwen kiss me. That was… I didn’t even think, I just reacted, and then it was too late. And I swear, I talked to her. I told her I don’t like her. I never liked her like that. And I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest.”

Peter stepped closer, his hands open at his sides, like he wanted to reach for her but wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

“I’m sorry for the fight. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry it got this far. I would do anything—anything—to go back and do it right. To slap myself from letting my fears get in the way. To stop this from dragging on and hurting you more.”

Y/N stared at him.

Her walls weren’t gone. But they were cracking.

And for the first time in a long time, she let him talk.

She listened.

And that alone felt like a miracle.

Y/N was quiet for a long time.

The lights from the tank shimmered across her face, casting her in a surreal, flickering glow.

Then, finally, she spoke—softly.

“You know what hurt the most?”

Peter blinked, barely breathing.

She met his eyes. And her voice cracked.

“How badly I felt about myself.”

He took a step forward, but stopped himself.

“I guess I can’t fully blame you for that,” she continued. “But I… I convinced myself that you just didn’t like me. That it was because of all the baggage I come with.”

Peter shook his head, already about to interrupt, but she raised a hand. Let me finish.

“I know I can be a lot. I have all this noise in my head all the time, and I get a terrible attitude with people when I don’t know how else to deal with it. I can be mean. And I’ve got these powers that I still don’t fully understand. It’s always too much.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“And I thought maybe you finally realized that. Maybe you just wanted someone soft. Someone pretty and quiet and easy. With less damage. Someone like Gwen.”

Peter’s eyes went wide, but he stayed quiet. Letting her speak. Letting her feel it.

“So I started spending more time with Harry. And even though I knew I didn’t like him like that, at least he never made me feel like I was too much. He never made me feel… unlovable.”

She looked down.

“And it was nice. It was nice to have someone in my corner while you were off spending all your free time with Gwen. Gushing about her like I didn’t even exist anymore.”

Peter took a breath like he’d been underwater.

“No,” he said immediately. “No, Y/N, that’s not true. None of that is true.”

His voice broke.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry for ever making you feel like that. I’m the awful one, Y/N/N. Not you.”

He stepped closer, the words spilling out now.

“You’re not too much. You never have been. You’re passionate and smart and sharp and yeah, okay, maybe you have a bit of an attitude—but it’s earned. You’ve been through hell and you’re still standing. That’s not baggage. That’s strength.”

He was close now, right in front of her, eyes shining.

“And I don’t want soft. I don’t want quiet. I want you. With the lightning and the smart mouth and the noise and the anger and all of it. All of it. I want the whole storm.”

Y/N blinked hard.

Her eyes were shining too.

And Peter, still breathless, added: “God, I wish I had told you that sooner.”

Silence.

The jellyfish pulsed quietly behind them, like the room itself was holding its breath.

And for the first time in weeks… there was nothing left unspoken.

Y/N reached up, brushing her fingers gently along the bruise on Peter’s cheek. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked quietly. “Better than last night?”

Peter leaned into her touch without thinking, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. Then he let out a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m great,” he said, smiling. “You should see the other guy.”

He winced. “Shit. Sorry. That’s not funny.”

Y/N giggled as she lightly caressed his cheekbone. “It’s fine. He’s okay. We’ll probably laugh about this in a few years.”

A beat passed.

Peter’s voice dropped. “You switched your AP Bio period.”

Y/N sighed, her hand falling back to her side. “I thought it’d be easier.”

“You did it because of me?” he asked quietly. His voice had gone smaller. More unsure.

“I just thought it’d be better than me skipping class,” she said.

Peter looked down. Then up at her again, his brow slightly furrowed. “I won’t be in there. If you don’t want me to be.”

“I want you to,” she said, honest and sure. “But sitting next to you every day when things were so tense… it just didn’t feel right.”

Peter’s breath caught, just a little. “You want me to?” he repeated softly, like he needed to hear it again.

She nodded, not looking away.

His expression cracked into something tender. Like he’d been holding his breath for days and finally let a little bit out. His lips parted, but whatever he was about to say—he didn’t. He just held her gaze like it was something precious.

They stood close. Closer than they had in days. Weeks.

Then he cleared his throat, blinking the moment away as he reached into his pocket.

“I, uh… I got you something.”

Y/N blinked. “You did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It reminded me of you. I thought… I don’t know. I thought you should have it.”

He held out a small bracelet—purple and blue, woven, with a tiny silver lightning bolt charm dangling at the center.

Y/N stared at it for a moment before her features softened.

“Oh.”

Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know you’re sentimental. That you keep stuff.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong.”

He reached for her hand gently, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist.

She looked down at it. Then up at him. Her voice was soft. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled, a little breathless. “You’re so beautiful.”

Y/N dropped her gaze, shy for a second, but he tilted her chin up with two fingers.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

She did.

And for a second, the world felt still.

But then Y/N pulled back slightly, just enough to keep the space between them.

“We’re not kissing here,” she said, almost teasing. “This was a good start. But I need more, Peter.”

His expression didn’t falter. He nodded. “I know.”

He hesitated, then added, softer, “I just wanted to look at your eyes. You’re really glowing in here.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, her voice warm. “I’ll see you later, Parker.”

She turned and walked out the room.

Peter stood there for a moment longer, bracelet still warm from her wrist, her perfume still clinging to the air.

And for the first time in a long time… he smiled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N walked out of the jellyfish room, still a little dazed from everything that had just happened — in a good way, though. Her fingers brushed lightly over the bracelet on her wrist as she scanned the exhibit floor.

She spotted MJ first, leaning over the touch pool and squinting suspiciously at a starfish.

Ned stood beside her, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. Emphasis on trying.

“I swear to god, Ned,” MJ was saying, “if you splash me, I will end your bloodline.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Ned protested.

Y/N smiled and walked over just in time to hear MJ mutter, “Try me, Leeds. I’ll push you in right now.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t take you down with me.”

They both turned at the sound of Y/N’s laugh.

“There she is,” MJ said, her tone light. “Looking suspiciously glowy, if you ask me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

But she was smiling. Really smiling.

And then—

“Hey,” came a soft voice behind her.

Y/N turned to find Peter standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, a little unsure but undeniably warm.

She didn’t say anything but she didn’t turn away either.

He stepped closer. MJ and Ned looked between them, then at each other.

And just like that, they all fell into rhythm.

Ned pointed dramatically at a sea cucumber. “I dare someone to touch that thing.”

MJ snorted. “You’re the one who dared me to come here, you touch it.”

“Absolutely not. I’m just the instigator. Not the executioner.”

Y/N nudged him. “You’re both cowards.”

Peter grinned. “I’ll do it if you do it.”

MJ raised a brow. “Peer pressure? Really, Parker?”

Y/N was already pulling up her sleeve. “Let’s just do it, losers.”

And for the first time in a long time, the four of them laughed.

Together.

No tension. 

Just dumb jokes and the kind of soft, warm energy that felt like home.

They weren’t fixed.

But they were finding their way back.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The bus ride back to Midtown was mellow.

Y/N sat beside MJ near the middle again, her head leaned against the window as the city blurred past. Peter and Ned were in the back, and though the space between them remained, it felt a little smaller now.

She looked over at MJ, narrowing her eyes.

“You planned that whole thing out, didn’t you?”

MJ didn’t even blink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But she was smiling. And it was very telling.

Y/N smiled too.

Back at school, they all piled off the bus together. A few kids sprinted to their rides. Others lingered to say goodbye.

Peter and Y/N didn’t say much.

Just a soft smile.

A little wave.

It was enough.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Back at the Tower, the elevator doors slid open and Y/N stepped into the floor like a girl walking on clouds.

Tony looked up from the sleek holographic projection on his tablet, brow immediately furrowing. Pepper lowered her book and blinked at the sight of their daughter literally beaming.

Y/N walked over to the couch flopping down dramatically with her arms spread across the cushions.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said sweetly.

Tony’s head tilted with suspicion. “Nope. Absolutely not. What happened?”

Y/N blinked innocently. “What do you mean?”

“You just called me Daddy.” He pointed at her. “You never call me that unless something’s seriously wrong or you’re buttering me up for a favor. I’m not buying it. Spill.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow, watching the interaction like it was a tennis match.

Y/N grinned, trying to suppress it. “Okay, fine. I may have had a conversation with Peter today.”

Tony didn’t move, didn’t blink. “That’s it?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We talked. It was nice.”

He stared harder. “Don’t tell me you kissed him.”

Y/N sat up a little straighter, frowning. “No!”

“Good. Because I thought I raised you better than that. Where are your standards?”

Pepper swatted his arm. “Tony!”

Y/N jumped up, snapping her fingers sassily. “Actually ,he knows I’m holding him to higher standards now. Ugh—it’s like you don’t even know me.  I told him we weren’t going to kiss. He needs to chase me a little more.”

Tony sat back with a smug little smile. “There she is. That’s the Stark I know.”

Pepper gave Y/N a warm smile. “So it went well?”

Y/N nodded, the corners of her mouth tugging up again. “Yeah. It’s a start. We’re not magically okay or anything. But… he’s trying. And I needed to see that.”

Tony grumbled, folding his arms. “Trying better mean flowers. Jewelry. A grand gesture.”

“Or,” Pepper said gently, “just some honesty and consistency.”

Y/N smiled at her mom. “Exactly.”

Tony rolled his eyes and waved her off. “Alright, alright. Go get changed or do your teenage brooding thing or whatever. Just don’t get sappy on me.”

Y/N stood, already heading for her room. “Call me if you order pizza or something.”

Pepper smiled as she disappeared down the hall.

Tony shook his head. “She can be so dramatic sometimes.”

Pepper didn’t miss a beat. “That's all your DNA.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺

taglist: @f2lix @the-faceless-bride @uhmellamoanna @lovely-foxes-exe @gyus-lvr @aomi04 @liaverse37 @pettypeety @pleasingregulus @theyluvmesblog @sqfewrd @ultrunning @boomitsallie1 @caramelfondu @404rogers @marcswife21

author's note: guys chapter 7 was supposed to end with y/n checking up on peter after the fight but it was too long post😭

let me say something. y/n and harry? platonic soulmates. y/n and peter? twin flames.

when i tell yall i literally almost got emotional writing the jellyfish room scene LMAO

lmk what yall think!!!

[roostersmustache]

Reflections of Who We Used to Be

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Author's Note: It's been a while! I don't know if anyone will be reading this, but I am gonna post it anyways! I've had this idea brewing for a little bit, so I thought, why not give it a write? Let me know what you think!

Synopsis: Sigrid and Loki had everything. Love, marriage, a beautiful daughter on the way...but then everything got ripped right under her feet when Loki was killed in the Infinity War. But one day, Loki comes waltzing back into her life, except this Loki isn't the one that left her.

or

Loki comes back to his spot in the timeline, but this Loki doesn't remember living the events after his attack on New York City. He just remembers the TVA.

Warnings: Swearing, adult themes, angst, possible MCU spoilers, possible Loki spoilers, probably not entirely accurate.

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Sigrid grew up lonely. She had no siblings, and she always had a harder time than others her age when it came to making friends. Her school was small, she went to a small private school in Asgard, one reserved for those in families of higher power. Her father was high ranking in Asgard's army, practically Odin's right hand man. It was no surprise to anyone when she was placed in her school.

She excelled in school, constantly awing her instructors with her mind, always one step ahead than the rest in her class. But when it came to magic, she was weak. Sigrid was diagnosed with a condition called POTS at the age of five. Because of this, her body has never been strong enough to fully support the magic she wished she had.

Loki and her met when she was in her second year of school, and he was in his fourth. She was seven and he was nine. They met in the library, her face was nose deep in a book that he wanted to read, and instead of telling him, the weird prince, to go away like everyone else, she offered that they read it together. They've been inseparable ever since.

When they got to middle school, they were both there to experience each others first crushes, so they decided to help each other out and be each others first kiss. Just for practice. Loki wanted to be able to tell Thor he had also kissed a girl.

From then on, they were there for each other when one another got their heart broken. They exchanged books, Loki helped Sigrid with her magic, and they made each other feel less lonely. Loki had always felt like an outcast, and Sigrid had always been lonely. They filled that gap for one another.

However, after high school, Loki discovered his true parentage, thus sparking a downward spiral for him, taking everyone else with him. His mind had never been so dark and cold, so vulnerable. Sigrid was there for him, and she was just what he needed, a shoulder to cry on. Loki felt everyone else around him had begun to push him away, afraid of the monster he truly was. But not Sigrid. Never Sigrid.

But this revelation left his mind vulnerable enough for dark forced to enter it, and enter it they did.

It took too much convincing, and too many analysis' of Loki for Odin to finally believe that he had been under the influence of a dark force when he attacked New York. Loki felt it was pointless to fight the old man on it, but Thor and Sigrid had insisted.

Loki was under the influence of Thanos, and while under that spell, he had killed many innocent people and destroyed lots of the city. No one on Earth would ever comfortably welcome him back, but the people of Asgard would have to learn to. Loki knew he was seen as even more of a monster now, and that fact pushed him deeper into his darkness than he had been before.

While not under the influence of Thanos, Loki was still broken. He was dealing with the guilt of what he had done, and the realization that he would forever be seen as a monster was at the forefront of his mind. In a fight against the Dark Elves, Loki had faked his death. His mother, Frigga had been killed, and Loki was the most heartbroken he had ever been. Sigrid was devastated when Thor came back and said Loki was gone. The grief she had felt during that time was insufferable.

She drowned in her sadness everyday, and her magic had never been weaker. She fainted more often than normal, her POTS getting worse, and it was during this time that she discovered she loved Loki. She always had loved Loki. But this was the most real thing she had ever felt, and she couldn't do anything with it, because he was gone.

But then he came back one day, a couple months later, and Sigrid swears she's never been so angry in her life. He apologized profusely to her, claiming he needed to get away to stop hurting the people around him, but she didn't care. He left her, and they had promised to never leave each other. He knew she'd mourn him. She called him selfish, and the two didn't speak for another two weeks.

The first time they spoke after that, he told her he loved her. She told him she loved him. He promised he'd never leave her again.

The rest is history.

A year later, the two got married, a wedding that some supported and some did not. Many people still thought Loki was a monster and that he would never change. But those who really knew him knew that wasn't the case.

Their marriage was filled with such joy and happiness for the both of them. They brought out the best in one another, and Sigrid helped people see that Loki wasn't the monster they all thought he was. Sigrid had never been happier, and it was quite obvious to everyone. The girls who used to tease her in school now bowed down to her as their princess, and the boys that bullied her now wished they had her.

And Loki. Sigrid thought Loki looked better the older he got. When his hair reached his shoulders, she was a goner. He was so handsome, and it seemed that the rest of the kingdom had started to notice too. Palace workers would tell him it was "alright if he needed a break from his wife," and shoot a wink his way. Sigrid would have to excuse herself to simmer off, but Loki would remind her just how devoted he was to her every night.

After a couple years of being married, Sigrid found out she was pregnant. She had kept waking up sick, and sure enough, it's because she was expecting. Loki had been overjoyed, terrified, but overjoyed. Sigrid didn't think she could love her husband more, but the promise of him being a father left a flutter in her stomach she didn't know she could have.

They had already begun prepping their nursery, keeping it as gender neutral as possible, as they wouldn't discover the babies gender until they were born. Sigrid found a new hobby in making her old baby clothes, and Loki would hold her belly and sing to her every night. She was living in a bubble of bliss.

But every bubble pops at some point.

Thor and Loki had heard about the threat of Ragnarok, and at first Sigrid didn't believe in it, but then Loki and Thor returned from a place called Sakaar and informed her that it was very real, and definitely going to happen. While they were in Sakaar, their sister Hela, whom none of them knew about, had totally taken over Asgard, and had even kept Sigrid hostage in the castle. Sigrid was surprised Hela didn't kill her, but she also knew she was being used as leverage to get the princes back to Asgard.

Those few days where she was under Hela's control in Asgard were Sigrid's own personal hell, literally. She was paraded around like a prize, dangling over the Asgardian's heads. Heimdall came to her rescue, sneaking in one night and taking her with him, where they sought safety with the other Asgardian's.

The next day, Thor came back with Banner and Valkyrie, and Sigrid started to worry when Loki wasn't with them. Especially since Hela's army of the dead and her massive dog, Fenrir, were surrounding them on the bridge. But Loki did show up, he showed up on a massive ship, and suddenly everything was better.

Sigrid rushed to give him a hug, but he urgently rushed her on the ship, not willing to risk hers and their babies life. Sigrid watched from inside with hundreds of Asgardians as her husband, Thor, and Valkyrie all defeated Hela and Asgard burned to the ground. It was a bittersweet feeling, watching home collapse but also knowing everyone was safe.

Sigrid thought the chaos was over there, finally feeling relieved that they were finally en route to somewhere to rebuild. She was already thinking about her new home wit Loki, what the new nursery would look like. They settled on Earth, but as they were on the way there, they came across an enemy ship.

Sigrid begged and begged Loki not to go check it out with everyone else, but he insisted. She then begged to come with him, but he refused. Any other time he would've loved her companionship, but carrying their child was not something he was willing to put on the line.

Sigrid cried to him to not go, she had a horrible feeling, but he insisted he had to for the good of their people. They told each other they loved each other and kissed goodbye, and he promised he'd be right back.

He promised he'd be right back.

But Loki didn't come back. Loki never came back. Thor came back a different man, and all he could utter was that Loki was gone. Sigrid felt a type of pain she hadn't ever felt in her life. Even when she thought Loki was dead the first time, it had never felt this way. She thinks it's because a part of her always knew he was never dead, but she knew this was real. Even as she screamed at Thor and told him he was faking it, she knew it was real.

While Thor and Loki were confronting Thanos in the first place, several of Thanos' "children," as he called them, killed hundreds of Asgardian's, and only about a hundred made it out alive.

Thor had found them in Norway, and he came with Loki's body. Sigrid had shook her husband and wailed at him to wake up, to stop playing tricks. It wasn't funny. This wasn't the time to joke.

But it was no joke.

A few short months later, Sigrid gave birth to their daughter without him. Sigrid took one look at their daughter and decided to name her Frigga, after Loki's mother whom he loved dearly.

Frigga became the light in Sigrid's life that she had been missing, though she wished more than anything that Loki was there with her. She found him everywhere; in the wind and the way it put a breeze in her hair, in the green hue of the mountains surrounding their new home, New Asgard as they called it, and in the rain, Loki's favorite weather.

Sigrid found her days spent distracting herself with baking. She decided, not long after she had Frigga, to open a bakery in town, just a couple blocks from her home. Thor decided to live with her and Frigga, offering support that Sigrid was endlessly grateful for.

She, and the rest of her people, picked her life back up piece by piece. Her bakery flourished, Frigga was happy, and she slowly started to properly mourn her husband, taking forever to fully accept that he was gone. She visited his grave everyday and talked to him, it brought her peace. Once Frigga was old enough to understand, she brought her with her.

Frigga knew her father to be a hero. Her uncle and her mother did a great job painting that picture for her, and she went to school and bragged about him. Frigga inherited everything about him. She had his long, black hair and piercing blue eyes, and, much to her mothers awe and dismay, his magic.

The first sign she had Loki's magic was when she could turn inanimate objects into snakes. Sigrid had screamed, and then laughed, thrilled that her daughter had her father's magic touch. Now, at age eight, she was able to shape-shift into small animals herself. She could also make herself invisible, manipulate other objects, and read peoples memories with the touch of her hand on their head. Just like her father.

Frigga followed her mother to the bakery everyday that she didn't have school. She had become quite the baker herself, and Sigrid loved having her help.

Today was no different, it was a Friday and Frigga had run to her mothers bakery as soon as she got out of school. Sigrid let her bake some brownies before starting on her homework, and then it was homework before she could help again.

Sigrid had spent the day making various cakes before her daughter had come. Now that she had sent Frigga off to her designated desk in the back to do homework, she was going to start on some lemon bars. The store had been running slow today, and with no customer in sight she had decided to make some treats to pass the time.

She was really feeling pop music recently, and had it blasting through the store as she worked, powder fresh on her face. She was singing along to the newest song on her shuffle when she realized she needed more sugar, running to fetch some from the back.

While she was back there she made sure Frigga was on track with her homework, receiving an annoyed scoff from her daughter. She just rolled her eyes and lightly tapped her on the head before moving back out to her baking table.

She heard the bell ring on her front door, signaling customers, and she hollered at them that she'd be right out. She was almost finished cutting up another lemon, when she heard them start to talk. She could make out three separate voices, a woman with an accent, a man with no accent who mentioned key lime pie, and finally...

Sigrid stopped her motions all together, almost cutting herself with her knife. That third voice was one she hadn't heard in almost nine years, but one that she could surely recognize in a crowd of millions. It was deep, sultry, and had a thick accent. It was the voice she had fallen utterly in love with. And as if no time had passed between the last time she heard that voice and now, it carried her towards it like a magnet.

She scrambled to reach the front of the shop, her skin feeling icy hot and her heart hammering in her chest. She reached the front counter and her throat went dry. When was the last time she had a POTS spell?

As she looked up she was gasping for air, and her vision was going blurry. But she'd recognize those eyes, that hair, anywhere. She felt a tear roll down her face.

"Loki?"

She fainted.

~~

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know! Likes, comments, and of course reblogs are always welcome and appreciated!

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 4/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers..

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This was another hard chapter to edit/rewrite, but I did it ^^ I hope you guys like fighting/sparring scenes ^^" Ok, let's feed that hunger, shall we? ;)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 4/8

Word Count: 9.9K / 60K+ for now

In the days that followed their meeting in the library, E kept their distance from Logan. They must have been tangled up with all the contract adjustments and whatever else came with their mysterious agenda, or at least that’s what he assumed. Logan couldn’t say he minded their absence; if anything, the tension between his shoulders had finally started to ease, and his routine felt a little less invaded.

He hardly saw them around the mansion. E would appear in passing, usually on their way to Charles’s office or briefly dipping into the library, but they seemed to vanish as quickly as they appeared. They never crossed paths otherwise. Not in the gym, where he’d half-expected to catch them training, nor in the kitchen, where they always managed to get there before him and leave behind only faint traces—a mug in the sink, an empty coffee pot. Even Ororo, who spent most of her time outside tending to the gardens, mentioned she hadn’t seen them lingering around the grounds. And as the days dragged on, Logan felt the empty space they’d left lingering.

A part of him was curious now, his wariness easing as he'd learned more about them. He’d gotten a glimpse of them beneath that composed exterior, enough to see that they weren’t the threat he’d originally thought, maybe even enough to say they weren't so different from each other—if he squinted. Their goals didn’t seem so far from his, and neither did their need for freedom. He found himself wondering, almost against his will, what they were doing when they weren’t working. It didn’t sit right, not knowing.

And soon enough, he realized he’d started keeping an eye out for them. Them, the person who’d been in his face day in and day out for weeks, was now barely a shadow in the mansion’s daily rhythm. It was… odd, and the feeling only grew with each day they didn’t cross paths.

But then, on the fifth day after their meeting, Logan’s curiosity finally got a break when Charles called the team to his office. He could sense something was coming—the air in the room was thick with it. The team gathered, shifting uneasily, the only absentees being the three younger members. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever as he watched each person in the room. His eyes kept circling back to E, who stood slightly off to the side, their expression a wall of carefully constructed calm. They didn’t look at him or anyone else, a clear signal they weren’t here to play nice.

Charles cleared his throat, drawing their attention as he settled behind his desk. “I’ve called you all here to discuss an important matter regarding the security of the school.”

Logan’s gaze narrowed, his instincts already piecing together that this had to do with E. Sure enough, Charles’ steady look swept across the team, his voice carrying a calm authority. “It has been decided that E will be training with you all from now on. They won’t be part of the team, but as they work here at the school and have the right to defend it, it’s important for everyone to understand their abilities. In case of an attack, we all need to be on the same page.”

The discomfort in the room was tangible. Everyone shifted, casting skeptical glances at E, who remained silent, almost impassive. Their appearance looked more severe today—dull skin and eyes, their horns lacking their usual shine, and their hair pulled back in a tight bun. They wore mostly black, save for a few touches of dark red, with no jewelry and only the barest hint of makeup. Jean watched them closely, brows furrowing as she tried to read their thoughts, but E’s sharp glare in her direction made it clear that wall wasn’t coming down.

Scott was the first to voice his hesitation, clearing his throat as he looked between Charles and E. “Is that really necessary? We’ve never had any outsiders train with us before.”

Logan couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped out. “Forgot about me, Summers? I was an outsider once, too.” The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before he cast a quick glance at E. Just as he expected, their attention—once fixed on their perfectly manicured red nails—flickered to his, briefly meeting his gaze before quickly looking away, the moment slipping by as quickly as it had come.

If they weren’t friends, Scott would’ve probably fried him with his visor for that comment, but Charles remained patient as he waited for the room to settle. “E works alongside us here,” he said, voice steady but unyielding. “They have every right to protect the students, just as we do.” His gaze swept over each person, settling on them a moment longer than necessary. “It’s important we trust one another in times of crisis.”

Logan’s gaze drifted back to E. They stood rigid, a subtle tension in their posture that hadn’t been there before. If he was reading them right, they didn’t want to be here any more than the team wanted them here. It wasn’t just distance, it was a quiet wariness, like they were on guard against everyone, Charles being the only exception. Even Jean’s curiosity only earned another glare from E, a silent warning to stay out of their head.

As the murmurs of agreement wrapped up the meeting, Logan lingered, eyes settling on E. He wasn’t wary of them anymore, not exactly, but something about them made him curious. He’d seen a glimpse of who they were under that mask. He wasn’t sure he trusted them yet, but he respected them—at least enough to want to see more of what they were capable of. And there was that other thing, too; he’d noticed it in the faint shadows under their eyes and the worn edges of their aura. Whatever was keeping them going seemed to be running thin.

“Hey,” he called out before they could leave. They turned slowly, an eyebrow raised, the only indication they’d heard him.

“When d’you have time to spar?” he asked, trying to read their reaction.

Their face barely shifted, but he could see a glint of amusement behind their guarded look. “Right now, actually,” they replied, their voice steady and even. “Unless you’re busy.”

Logan pushed off the wall, straightening his posture. “I’ve got time.”

They nodded, excusing themselves to change and, twenty minutes later, they met him at the bottom of the staircase. They were both now dressed in gear more suitable for what lay ahead, and Logan couldn’t help but notice the way their presence had shifted from the last time they spoke—the carefully polished exterior was there, but the energy behind it was dimmed, like they were holding something back. As they stepped outside, Logan led them to a secluded corner of the grounds, far from prying eyes. The shaded glade lay far from the main paths, ensuring no students or teachers would wander by, a quiet space with plenty of room to move freely.

As they reached the clearing, he rolled his shoulders, flexing his arms and testing his range of motion with a low, almost eager hum in his throat. “Alright,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

E’s lips curved into a faint smile, tight at the edges, as they removed their shoes, grounding themselves in the cool grass. Logan studied them, and it seemed like even the glint in their eyes was dimmer than he remembered; they looked tired, worn.

“You sure you’re feelin’ up for this?” he taunted. “Look a little beat.”

At those words, a faint smirk tugged at their lips, a dangerous spark lighting in their eyes—not quite playful, but charged with a hint of anticipation as they settled a few feet from him, their toes curling slightly in the green blades. “Looks can be deceiving,” they stated, their eyes narrowing with a brief, steely flash. “So don’t hold back.”

Logan chuckled, a low growl under his breath . “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They shifted into their stances, circling each other slowly, and Logan took a moment to assess them, noting their balance and posture, looking for signs of fatigue or hesitation. E looked drained, their skin and eyes lacking the usual intensity, their expression guarded but when they lunged forward, it was with a speed and grace that took him off guard. They were light on their feet, with an economy of motion that spoke of years of training. Even so, they lacked their usual edge. He’d felt their agility before—those brief, charged touches when they went after him over the past couple of weeks. But now, with their first steps, he saw a whole new side to them.

As Logan moved in, he blocked their strike, and the force behind it surprised him. They were damn quick, and strong enough to make him realize he couldn’t take this lightly. He dodged a swift kick, aiming a punch in return, but they twisted smoothly out of his reach, moving with a precision that was… stunning.

A flicker of respect—maybe even awe—stirred in him, and he noticed the shift almost immediately. E’s movements, initially strong, suddenly sharpened, a faint glow sparking in their eyes as they draw strength from his reaction. Each impressed thought, every ounce of admiration, pulse under their skin like fuel, strengthening them further.

Their smile widened, feeling the strength coursing through them now, a flash of teeth as they spun around him, arms a flurry of open-palmed strikes and swift fists. Logan blocked most of them, dodging the rest. They weren’t just good—they were damn good. And as his recognition grew, he felt an odd, almost tangible energy radiating off them, a surge that seemed to seep from the esteem they stirred in him.

“Not bad,” he grunted, his breath steady despite the exertion. The thrill of a real challenge was humming through his veins, the kind that made his blood come alive. But he couldn’t ignore that other feeling creeping in, like something slipping just beyond his control, something wild and powerful in E that his respect seemed to unlock.

They closed in again, and as their bodies met, Logan realized just how agile they were. It wasn’t only that they were fast; it was the precision of each movement, the way they slipped around his strikes like water weaving through rock. He found himself pushed harder, each dodge and block requiring his full attention.

Their style was unlike anything he’d seen before: smooth, swift, each movement flowing into the next like a performer weaving between shadows. There was a seamlessness to their steps, an exotic grace laced with foreign influences he couldn’t quite place—Arabic, maybe, or something even older. As they exchanged blow after blow, it felt like choreography, mesmerizing—E’s motions were fluid and graceful, carrying a rhythm and elegance that Logan could respect, even as he fought to keep up. This wasn’t just skill; it was... Art. And the more he admired it, the stronger they became, each spark of his interest feeding into their movements like an unseen force binding them.

Realization struck him like a blow—yes, they were good, but their power was intensifying, fueled by him.

He’d heard of mutants who could channel the emotions of others, drawing strength from positive thoughts like attention and interest. But feeling it now—feeling their strength mirror his thoughts… it was unlike anything he’d experienced.

They were more than a match for him, and his respect for their skill, their grit, surged. The moment that thought crossed his mind, E’s strikes grew even faster, their focus intensifying, and he was almost sure of it now. His every impressed reaction were seeping into them, fueling their intensity.

Their strikes picked up speed, and Logan found himself on the defensive more than he’d anticipated. They were fucking sharp. For every hit he blocked, two more came at him from new angles, as if they were testing him, pushing him to see just how far they could go. And with each strike, with every dodge, their energy grew, their fatigue seemed to melt away. The fire in their eyes reignited, and their form tightened, honed into something intense and unyielding.

He went in close, using his instincts to counter their movements, but with each passing moment, he witnessed how his respect only made them stronger. It was mesmerizing—and unsettling. The bond felt tangible, like an invisible current between them, and it was taking on a life of its own.

Logan ducked under a high kick, his instincts leading the way, and countered with a low sweep that nearly knocked them off-balance. E rolled out of reach, landing on their feet with a fluid twist that made Logan pause, even for just a fraction of a second. The way they moved was intoxicating—a mix of elegance and deadly purpose that sparked something inside him. He couldn’t help it; for a split moment, he was simply watching them, almost spellbound.

But there was no time to linger. E closed the distance with a burst of energy, a flurry of controlled, powerful strikes, fists and open palms, that had Logan moving on impulse alone. Each hit was controlled, precise, but damn, the force behind them kept him on his toes, like they were trying to push him to his limits. And maybe, deep down, he wanted them to. He blocked, deflected, and when he caught their wrist mid-swing, he allowed a small, knowing smirk to flicker across his face. That’s when he saw it—the glint of mischief in their eyes, quick and bold. E twisted out of his grasp with a move so smooth it felt like he’d tried to catch water.

Logan tightened his grip as they shifted, pulling them back to him, but the moment their faces were mere inches apart, time seemed to pause. Their eyes were locked onto his, unflinching and intense. There was something fierce there, a silent challenge that pulled at something deeper inside him, stoking the embers in his guts. It was like they were daring him, testing him not just as an opponent but as someone who understood the fire behind their eyes.

E must have seen the battle between reason and desire flicker in his gaze because they seized the moment, breaking free in a swift motion. Logan let them go, both impressed and curious, wanting to see what they’d do next. They didn’t waste a second, attacking with renewed vigor, moving like a force of nature, their body a seamless weapon of precision and raw determination. Logan could feel the shift—a resolve in them, the power that had been lying dormant now fully awakened. They weren’t holding back anymore, weren’t playing it safe. The series of blows they threw with rapid precision drew him into that primal place where his instincts ruled, and he was forced to meet them there, letting the feral part in him slip closer to the surface. The thrill of it sparked through his veins like wildfire.

“Alright,” he growled under his breath, almost laughing as he absorbed another blow and stepped back, chest heaving. “So you’re not playin’ around.”

Their eyes glimmered, never breaking eye contact, that confident grin tugging at their lips. They let out a breathy laugh, low and challenging. “You finally noticed?” they teased, their voice smooth with the thrill of the fight. There was something almost predatory in the way they held his gaze, the way they readied themselves for the next round. The air between them was tight, charged, every breath a shared battle. They circled each other once more, both panting heavily now, both intent, and Logan shifted his stance, ready for whatever came next.

He braced himself as they lunged, and this time, he met them head-on, gripping their fist mid-swing. The impact sent a shock through them both, a raw electricity that stilled the moment. E didn’t pull back, and neither did he. The space between them buzzed with an unspoken understanding—a recognition of equals, of opponents who respected each other enough to give everything.

Logan’s gaze drifted over their features, taking in the fierce focus, the glint in their eyes that had come alive in the heat of combat. He could feel his own pulse thundering in his chest, the thrill of the challenge, the sheer admiration for their skill. Whoever they were, whatever their story, they were damn impressive.

Their faces stayed close, eyes locked in a dance of silent words and wild, racing thoughts. He realized then, amidst the push and pull, that they weren’t just sparring. They were testing each other, challenging what they thought they knew.

When they finally broke apart, their breath heavy, Logan took in the slight rise and fall of their chest, the gleam of sweat on their neck. He let out a slow, impressed hum. “You weren’t holdin’ back, were ya?” His voice was low, rough with something more than exertion.

“Not my style.” E’s sly smile was full of restrained satisfaction. “But I thought you’d be a little faster, Wolverine,” they taunted, breathing hard, a mischievous edge to their tone.

Logan chuckled, the sound more rumble than laugh. He rolled his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips as he nodded. “And you’re better than I thought. Maybe I misjudged ya.” The admission came with its own weight, but it felt right. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to get that fired up.”

And there it was again, that pull in the air between them, a flash of mutual acknowledgment that only seemed to heighten E’s energy. It hung in the air like an invisible thread, binding them to something that was no longer just a sparring match.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” E added, their voice softer now but no less charged as they straightened, wiping a sheen of sweat from their brow.

This fight, this moment, was more than just a test of strength; it felt like a line had been crossed, an unspoken understanding forged in the heat of battle. Logan’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and for once, he didn’t bother suppressing the feeling. He’d had his fair share of fights, of sparring matches, but this had felt different—charged, almost like a trial, a test that had changed something between them.

He let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. “Seems like we both do, huh?”

Their gaze glinted, a hint of mischief mixed with something he couldn’t quite place. “Careful,” they said, voice low, “You might actually start liking me.”

He shook his head, though a glint of something warmer shone in his eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ ideas. I still don’t trust ya,” he said, though there was a reluctant admiration in his tone. “But I can’t deny you’ve got skills.”

They both stood there in the quiet clearing, the tension between them heavy and electric. It wasn’t just the fight that left him on edge—it was that undeniable force that surged through them, the energy that seemed to bloom under his attention, his respect.

They held his gaze a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. And finally, E’s expression softened, the intensity in their eyes dimming as they nodded slightly. “You ever want another round, you know where to find me,” they said before turning on their heels, the tension between them lingering like the echo of a battle not quite over.

As they walked away, carrying their shoes in one hand, Logan felt a strange pull, something magnetic urging him forward, a reflexive need to know more. Before he could think better of it, he called out after them, half-jogging to close the distance. E paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in their eyes.

They were checking their phone, frowning at a few missed calls, their thumb hovering over the screen to call back. But before they could hit the button, Logan spoke up, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. “When d’you reckon we could do this again?”

They looked up, and for a second, there was a gleam of something mischievous in their eyes, a playful spark that was hard to miss. Their lips curved, and that teasing smile tugged at him in a way that caught him off guard. “Oh, can’t get enough of me now, huh, pretty boy?”

Logan felt a tingle in his gut, the playful edge in their voice threw him for a second, that casual nickname landing unexpectedly. They made him feel like he was fifteen again, trying to play it cool in front of someone who seemed way out of his league—a completely new feeling for him. A part of him wanted to fire something back, maybe a quip about how he wasn’t in it for them, but for their skills. But he deflected instead, maintaining his composure. “I want to know more about your style. It’d be good for the team. Could give us an edge, y’know?”

“Good for the team,” E echoed, amusement flashing in their gaze as they cocked their head, weighing him. “If you say so.”

They turned their phone over in their hand, clearly tempted to tease him further, but before they could say anything, he cut them off, “Remember the training sessions Charles mentioned in the meeting? Did he told you about the Danger Room?”

E raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at their lips. “I might have heard of it… but maybe you could tell me a little more?”

Logan nodded, sensing an opportunity. “Well, it’s…let’s just say it’s our own personal, high-stakes training ground. If you want, I can walk you through it sometime.”

E considered him for a moment, their posture straightening as they regained their composure. “Alright. How about we meet back here tonight, after dinner, for some sparring again, and then you can tell me more about this danger room you’re talking about.”

“Tonight, huh?” he said, a hint of a smirk returning. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

“Good,” they murmured, their hand brushing his arm as they stepped past him, a fleeting, electrifying touch that sent a shiver through his skin. It was nothing—a casual touch—but it was enough to spark that strange charge between them again, something he could feel deep in his gut.

“See you tonight, then,” E said with a half-smile, their voice low, almost intimate. They turned, heading back toward the mansion with that damn sway in their step, every move as deliberate as their fighting style, leaving him there, watching and feeling just a bit off-balance. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, tonight, he was in for more than just another spar.

Logan was no stranger to being haunted by his thoughts, and most of the time, it was his past. But this was different—it wasn’t memories lingering in his head, it was someone alive and present, shifting through his thoughts like they had every right to be there. He’d spent the better part of the day moving from task to task, hoping that the routine would get his head on straight. He’d given three history lectures to classes who looked mostly bored out of their minds, walked the mansion perimeter twice, and even joined Hank in the lab for a solid hour before irritation got the best of him.

And still, every damn time he tried to clear his head, they were there. E. A quiet thrill snuck through him at the memory of their last spar, at the way they’d moved with that sharpened focus, picking up on his admiration like they could feel it.

Which they probably could. If his suspicions were right, E could sense admiration the way he could sense a lie—and that alone was a reason to keep his distance. But he hadn’t, not really. He’d leaned into it, watching the way they seemed to glow under his attention. That look in their eyes when they caught his gaze? Couldn’t shake it.

Damn it, it was making him question everything.

You’re not some lovesick puppy, bub, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair, frustrated. Get your head on straight.

E wasn’t his responsibility, not in the usual sense. He wasn’t there to watch over them or protect them. That wasn’t his job. Not that they needed him to, anyway. But the pull they had on him—some strange mix of curiosity and something else—wasn’t something he could easily shake off. He wasn’t sure if it was admiration, attraction, or something more dangerous, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Things never ended well when he got close, especially with someone like them. It was better, safer, to keep his instincts in check.

But still, when he thought about seeing them again, it felt like a twist in his gut, like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name, something primal. It was maddening, intoxicating—a feeling he hated as much as he longed for. And he couldn’t help himself.

His thoughts braught him back to them again, as he remembered the way E’s strikes had picked up speed, their movements sharpening with every surge of his admiration. The memory sent a chill down his spine. His jaw clenched as his mind raced. The urge to spar again—to see how far he could push them, what more they could become—tugged at him. But damn it, he had to remind himself to focus. He was here, not in the damn glade.

“Get ahold of yourself, damn it,” he muttered, hoping the sound of his voice might help break the spell. “You’ve got enough ghosts followin’ you around, don’t go invitin’ another.”

But E wasn’t a ghost. They were sharp, present, and so fucking alive. He didn’t want to admit it, but that made all the difference. This wasn’t some lingering regret or phantom from his past. It was real. And that made everything harder.

It wasn’t just his admiration—it was the way they challenged him, the way they made him feel. That pull, that instinctive response—it was there, simmering under the surface. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

Because even now, he couldn’t decide if it was them or their powers making him feel this way. The pull was real, but was it them? Or just some side effect of them feeding off his admiration?

Damn it. Logan clenched his fists, trying to shake it off. But no matter how much he fought it, E’s presence lingered, just out of reach, but never really gone. They weren’t his responsibility, not really—but hell if his instincts weren’t practically begging to make them his.

Hours dragged on, the sun dipping lower in the sky, but Logan found himself waiting for night to come. Waiting for the next sparring session. His body was wound tight, focus frayed, and he knew damn well it was because of them. No matter how hard he tried to pull himself back, some part of him was already leaning forward, eager to step into that clearing again, to see how much further they could go, how much more they could push each other.

His reason fought to resist, but he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep fighting it.

Logan settled into his seat in the dining room, but he wasn’t really there. He’d forced himself to join the others for dinner, hoping that the casual chatter would ground him, help shake E from his mind. But as plates clattered and conversations flowed, he found his thoughts still circling back to them—and to the way their strength had fed off his admiration. It gnawed at him, that feeling he’d fueled them somehow, that his respect had made them stronger, sharper. A part of him didn’t want to go down that road, but damn if he wasn’t already obsessing about the next sparring session, counting down the minutes.

He tried to focus on the idle talk around the table, but most of it only seemed to make his hackles rise. People were talking about E—debating whether they’d be joining the team in the future or if this was just a one-off thing. To them, it felt like E was edging their way in, and they didn’t like it. He could see the unease in Bobby’s frown, the way Marie’s gaze flitted to him, clearly feeling out where he stood on all this.

Eventually, the young woman turned to him, her brow raised in question. “So, Logan… what d’you make of her?” she asked, misgendering E without a second thought. “You’ve spent more time with her than the rest of us. ”

His reaction was swift and sharp, his tone a bit harsher than intended. “Them,” he corrected, voice edged. He took a steadying breath, reigning himself back. “They prefer ‘them.’”

Marie and Kitty exchanged a glance at that, a silent conversation that didn’t escape his notice. He forced himself to ignore it, though the sting of irritation remained, mingling with a faint, unexpected defensiveness. He wasn’t the type to stand on ceremony or correct people just to be polite. Still, he wasn’t going to stand by and let them talk about E without a damn bit of respect. But again, why the hell did he feel like he needed to stick up for them?

He tried to keep his tone casual as he shrugged, downplaying it like he didn’t care one way or another. “They’re alright. They’ve helped me out with some legal work, actually. Seems like they know what they’re doing. We sparred too… they’ve got a style that’s different. Pretty sharp. Could be good for you all to pick up some of that.”

The more he spoke, the harder it became to keep the admiration out of his voice. It wasn’t just that they were capable—there was something in the way they moved, the way they fought. Respect had never come easily to him, but with E, it was there, raw and undeniable.

Kitty raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Logan felt a small spark of irritation as she leaned in. “What’s so special about it?”

He tried to keep it casual but the words flew out of him before he could stop them. “It’s… fast, strong, fluid… almost like watching something crafted. Like art.” Damn it. He hadn’t meant to let so much appreciation slip through, but it was hard to ignore how their moves had lingered in his mind all day.

His comment hung in the air, and he could see the others’ gazes shift toward him, noting how his tone had softened. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, feeling a bit exposed under their scrutiny.

“What’s their power, though?” Bobby asked, curiosity written across his face.

Before Logan could even think of a response, a smooth voice coming from the doorway cut him off. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady about their powers?”

Logan turned, catching sight of E leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over their chest, a teasing smirk on their lips. They looked different than they had after sparring earlier—not as radiant, but still damn good, with that casual confidence that could set anyone on edge. They had changed again, now in some kind of foreign traditional outfit, somehow looking both beautiful and dangerous as their gaze shifted over each face at the table.

Bobby’s cheeks flushed pink at E’s words, and he fumbled for a response, while Marie shot them a half-hearted glare. Logan didn’t miss the slight flicker in E’s expression—a hint of something softer, like a crack in their armor, but it was gone in an instant, too quick for anyone else to catch.

Ororo was the first to break the silence. “What brings you here, E?”

E straightened, sauntering into the room with an air of nonchalance, though their smirk said otherwise, metal chiming on their ankles and wrists. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said, though the smirk made it clear they weren’t sorry at all. “I’m just here for Logan,” they added when reaching him, their hand finding his shoulder and resting there, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Logan’s frown deepened at their words and actions—like they owned him, like he’d just been summoned. Something primal flared within him at the look in their eyes, and he fought to keep his own expression in check, unwilling to let that part of himself show.

“We had another sparring session planned,” he explained quickly, shrugging off their hand, his tone a bit too abrupt. He didn’t want them getting any strange ideas about what this was.

E gave a small nod, a glint of mischief in their eyes. “Yes, a sparring session,” they repeated, voice low and almost playful. Their gaze lingered on him for just a beat too long, that glint sending his instincts flaring.

They turned with a casual wave of their hand, bracelets chiming with the motion, before glancing back at him over their shoulder as they sauntered back toward the hallway. “I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long,” they tossed back with a wink, disappearing around the corner.

The room went quiet as E left, the tension hanging thick in the air. Logan forced himself to finish his meal, trying to ignore the eyes on him. He could practically feel the questions lingering unsaid, the looks exchanged behind his back. But he kept his focus on his plate, forcing himself to eat slowly even as impatience thrummed beneath his skin. Finally, he excused himself, heading into the kitchen to put his dishes in the dishwasher before slipping out the back.

When Logan reached the clearing, he found E sitting cross-legged in the grass, the deep black of their tunic blending with the shadows, disturbed only by the dark red sash at their waist. When they shifted, the golden and crimson bracelets at their wrists and ankles chimed softly, each note cutting through the quiet night. Even their hair and makeup, immaculately done, added an edge to their poised, lethal beauty—a sharp contrast to the rawness of their last sparring session.

They looked like they were dressed to perform and, for a few heartbeats, he was mesmerized. They were utterly still, chest rising and falling so slowly that they could almost pass for a statue, something sculpted by a master, with an eye for each curve and line. The moonlight washed over them, casting an ethereal glow that only added to the aura around them, one part mystery, one part raw strength.

They had felt him, of course. He didn’t have to make a sound; the energy rolling off him was enough. A faint, knowing smile blossomed on their red-painted lips, soft at first, then sharper as it settled. Eyes still closed, they spoke, their voice smooth as silk in the quiet night. “I’m glad we’re doing this again, Logan.” They paused, savoring the weight of his gaze. “I couldn’t focus all day. You… lingered.”

Logan felt his pulse kick up a notch, his mind flicking back to his own restless day—the way he’d had to force himself to push through the usual motions, when all he really wanted was to get back here, back to them. He tried to keep his expression steady, giving a small shrug as he stepped closer. “Your style’s… intriguing,” he said, hoping it sounded casual, unaffected. But he knew better, and they did too; the spark of warmth they felt from him seemed to seep into their own energy, feeding them.

They savored it, and now he could tell. He watched as something in them shifted, as if they were becoming more than they had been a moment earlier, like his presence and attention added a new depth to their form. Finally, they opened their golden-hooded eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. The shimmer of the powder accentuated the sharpness of their stare, turning it into something almost regal.

Rising to their feet with the delicate chime of metal, they moved with an effortless grace, stretching in a way that was deliberate, flexing their muscles as though reminding him of what he was about to face. “It’s called kalaripayattu,” E said, their voice steady. “It was my foundation. But… it changed, especially in Turkey.” Their gaze darkened momentarily, a flicker of something painful passing through their expression before it settled into a smirk, masking the past. “Not all evolutions come from the best places.”

Logan's jaw tightened at the admission, a familiar pang settling low in his chest. He’d seen that look before—the one that spoke of scars hidden under skin, memories too heavy to carry yet impossible to drop. The urge to say something, to tell them he understood that kind of burden, nearly surfaced, but he bit it back. This wasn’t the moment for words; they both knew that. Instead, he nodded, letting the unspoken understanding hang between them as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he watched them, that low hum of anticipation lighting up in him again.

E grounded themselves, digging their toes into the grass like they did before their last fight, finding their balance in a way that was both practiced and primal. Their stance shifted, flowing into something new—a crouched position, one leg stretched back and the other supporting them low to the ground, arms raised toward the sky, palms pressed together, like a warrior in prayer. The pose was unexpected, striking, and undeniably dangerous.

“You ready for round two, pretty boy?” They smirked, mischief dancing across their face, challenging him in a way that was hard to ignore.

Logan felt his pulse spike at the nickname, an involuntary reaction he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. It got under his skin in a way that was both infuriating and exhilarating, making his chest tighten with something unspoken. He cracked his knuckles, returning their smirk with one of his own. “You think you got it in you to keep up?” His tone was thick with confidence, with that hint of wild pride that only emerged when he faced someone capable of pushing him to his limits.

“Oh, I know I do, sugar.” They let the word roll off their tongue with a teasing lilt, eyes gleaming with challenge.

They shared a look, two rivals who’d found a rare equal, sizing each other up, caught between the thrill of the fight and the satisfaction of knowing that tonight, there was no one else who could possibly match them.

And then, as the tension reached its peak, both held taut in that breathless moment, they launched at each other. Their bodies collided, a clash of motion and control, every inch a dance of precision—not with brute force, but with a dynamic grace, a synergy that felt almost primal. E moved first, sliding low to the ground, almost flowing, their actions fluid and deliberate, bracelets and anklets chiming with every shift. Each touch, each brush of their hand along his arm, shoulder, and side was deceptively soft, like a caress meant to lure rather than harm. But Logan wasn’t fooled. He felt the energy coiled in every motion, understood just how deadly each one could be if they chose it to be. He knew the strength they were capable of. Those strikes—gentle as they were—carried a restrained power, and he sensed it, a whisper of the damage they could inflict if they changed their mind and decided to hurt him.

They circled each other in a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing, bodies weaving in and out, almost as if bound by a magnetic pull. E struck out with an open palm, a grazing motion that skimmed across his ribs, a warning rather than a blow. Logan responded, ducking low and twisting around, countering with a restrained swing that they sidestepped with ease, pivoting on one leg, the other extended gracefully behind them. Their fighting style was a thing of beauty—each move sharp, controlled, yet inherently lethal. It was all in the restraint, the elegance in the way they flowed around him, closing the distance only to slip away, like waves ebbing back from the shore.

The touches, brief as they were, left lingering warmth against his skin, almost delicate in contrast to the fierce intent that lay beneath them. Logan could sense it with every shift in their stance, every breath they took—if E wanted to, they could bring him to his knees. It was a tantalizing threat, one that made his blood sing with the thrill of the fight.

In return, he matched their intensity with his own. He countered with his own practiced moves, his ferocity meeting their grace—rougher, rawer, like fire pushing against wind. He didn’t back down, wasn’t about to let them get too close without a response. He dodged, weaved, barely avoiding some of their strikes, slipping by with mere inches to spare. When they made contact—a calculated strike to his shoulder—he could feel the charged intent behind it, even as they held back, making him stagger back just enough to shake it off, smirking, before charging in again. They danced around him, a perfect, untamed rhythm building between them, and he found himself moving faster, sharper, like every step forward fueled the energy between them, both testing the other without any intent to truly harm. He could feel it in the air between them—something feral, almost like a mating ritual, the way their movements mirrored, challenged, and matched.

They struck again, this time low, forcing him to leap back and adjust, his grin widening with every movement. It was as if they were bound not by competition but by an unspoken connection—a bond that thrived on the intensity, the way they pushed each other without ever holding back. They were not opponents, nor allies in the typical sense. There was no give, no yield. Neither wanted to win or lose. They just wanted to keep moving, to stay in that almost sacred moment, as if time could stretch itself around them, infinite, like two forces swirling endlessly into one another, an ouroboros that neither began nor ended.

E’s presence seemed to shift, to pulse with each strike and dodge, a captivating intensity building under the lights as if drawing energy from the exhilaration in Logan’s gaze. The more he felt—admiration, awe, the raw thrill of the dance—the more vivid they seemed, their form almost transcending reality in the moonlight. Their eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered joy, and he saw it, saw the way they thrived under his gaze, every ounce of respect and challenge he sent their way amplifying their allure, making them seem more vivid with each passing second. They absorbed his fire, his strength, and reflected it back, their entire being moving with an entrancing grace that felt more alive than the world around them, their movements turning quicker, sharper, a need to show him more, to perform for him, to be seen. It was like they wanted him to witness the full extent of who they were, to understand how much he fueled them, empowered them.

And still, they did not relent. They wove through their attacks with such artful grace, arms sweeping in wide, lethal arcs that never quite struck him, but came close enough to make his heart race. Logan could feel the tension build in every swipe and brush of their hands, a coil wound tight within him, a primal urge to keep going, to fight like this until the stars themselves faded from the sky.

In a final sweep, they pivoted and leapt into the air, their body twisting mid-flight as they spun over his head, landing with barely a sound, crouched low, their gaze burning as they looked up at him, alive with energy, skin aglow. They seemed transformed, radiating something almost otherworldly, as if their exchange had unlocked something deep within them.

They rose slowly, never breaking eye contact, a faint smirk tugging at the edges of their lips, and Logan felt a surge of awe and something deeper, something inexplicable. This hadn’t just been a fight—it was communion, the give-and-take of two forces that could spend eternity bound in this endless, exhilarating cycle. In that timeless, breathless exchange, Logan felt the truth of it. He’d found someone who matched him, who fed off the same fire, who thrived under the heat of his gaze just as he could under theirs. And as he steadied himself, breath ragged, he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want this moment to end.

But then, unexpectedly, E burst out laughing—an honest, unrestrained, melodic laugh that broke free as if from a place long hidden. They threw their head back toward the sky, eyes closed, arms open, an untamed joy that caught Logan completely off-guard. That sound—it wasn’t mocking, nor was it triumphant. It was raw, genuine happiness and it sent a ripple through him, something deep and visceral. His chest tightened at the sight, at the way E’s expression softened for just a breath, letting the mask slip enough to reveal the humanity underneath all that skill and bravado.

It lasted only a few heartbeats, but in that space, Logan felt a shift. The air between them crackled differently, heavier, as if the laughter had broken down an invisible barrier neither had admitted was there. E’s eyes met his, searching, almost daring him to react, to see beyond the sparring and the guarded quips. For once, there was no battle in their gaze, only an invitation.

Logan’s eyes lingered on them as he tried to steady his breathing. A slow grin creeped across his lips, a rare thing that made the edges of his face soften, the soft, unguarded joy in E’s laugh still echoing in his mind. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he said, voice rougher than he intended, a mix of exertion and something deeper. He’d seen them as fierce, elusive, hidden behind layers that only cracked in quick, playful smirks. But tonight, they’d shown him something true, almost sacred, and he couldn’t look away .

E’s smile didn’t fade as they stepped closer, their chest rising and falling in time with their breaths. “More than you know,” they replied, voice low and charged, carrying a promise unspoken yet understood. They stood close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from their skin, the space between them almost humming with potential.

Logan’s gaze couldn't leave them, their bare sincerity, their easy grace, the way they stood under the stars as though they belonged there more than any place he’d ever seen. For once, he was stripped of any clever response, any guard. He didn’t look away, either, though something in him warned he probably should. He could feel it—how much more they seemed to want to show him. How much closer he wanted to be.

They could feel the fire burning in his gut, feeding their hunger in a way that made the ache to stoke it grow stronger. Under his curious eyes, they began moving in slow, hypnotic turns, delicate and precise, metallic chimes echoing from their wrists and ankles. They were dancing—an ancient and untamed choreography, meant only for the night air, the moon, the stars, and him. Logan could almost feel the pulse of their energy in his bones, awakening that place deep inside him that almost never stirred, except in moments like this—moments fleeting and rare. His reason urged him to keep his guard up, but his defenses were slipping, worn down by the rhythm of their dance and the raw humanity of their movements. He found himself stilling, breathing slow, caught in the silent music only they could hear.

Then, they stopped, releasing a deep, contented sigh, like someone freed after being bound for far too long. They looked at him, an unfiltered calm in their gaze, and the sight of it drew something close to an ache in him.

“Thank you, Logan,” they said, their voice holding a warmth he rarely heard from anyone.

He gave a short nod, gruff as always, but inside, her words struck him with a strange weight. “Didn’t do much,” he muttered quietly, shrugging it off.

“Oh, but you did.” E’s lips curved up, but there was no teasing, no facade, only quiet gratitude. They extended their hands, twisting their fingers and wrists slowly in delicate, almost playful movements, while their bracelets chimed softly against their skin, as though savoring the freedom, the lightness they’d reclaimed. “Since you gifted me peace, tonight, I’m gonna give you a gift of my own,” they whispered, stepping forward. They reached out, their fingers brushing his forearm, a casual touch that set his nerves on fire. "You’re leaving yourself open here," they murmured, their skin grazing his, their voice close enough to send a shiver down his spine.

A current shot through him, sharp and electric, but he rolled his shoulders, masking his reaction behind a rough mutter. “Ain’t used to sparrin’ against dancers.”

“You’ll learn,” they replied, their smirk tugging back into place, the hint of that earlier mischief glinting in their gaze again.

For a moment, they both fell silent, the night air cooling around them. E’s eyes shifted upward, to the expanse of stars overhead, and Logan felt the pull too. The sky was scattered with pinpricks of light, stretching endlessly into the dark. It reminded him of how vast everything was, how small he was within it, how his years—his long, battle-hardened years—were just a blink in the vastness above. And yet here, with them, under this open sky, he felt strangely anchored.

Beside him, E’s voice softened, thoughtful. “You ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

Their words hit him, catching him off guard, reaching into places he usually kept sealed. It gnawed at him, the way they stood there looking like a piece of the sky had touched down, that soft glow in their eyes, one of peace, of gratitude, maybe even of kinship. There were few people who’d ever asked him something like that, fewer still who might actually understand the answer.

“More often than you’d think,” he muttered, the words escaping before he could second-guess them. He kept his eyes trained on the stars, the expansive sky above, as if it could ease the ache that always lingered somewhere in his chest. “Don’t matter where I go, or who I’m with—there’s always this… hole. Even when I’ve got a good thing goin’ on.”

They stayed quiet, listening, and somehow that silence gave him the space to keep talking.

“I got a family here, I know that. Hell, got more people than I ever thought I’d get who actually care if I stick around or not,” he said, his voice gruff, but his words open. “But sometimes… feels like I’m just borrowin’ time. Waitin’ till somethin’ pulls me back out there.” He motioned vaguely to the woods, to the wild that always seemed to call his name when he lingered too long within four walls.

E shifted, their eyes softening, and that glow in them brightened almost imperceptibly, as if his words, raw as they were, had stirred something in them. They looked at him in a way that felt like understanding, a wordless acceptance of the parts he rarely let anyone see. He felt his pulse stir again, just under his skin, something vulnerable and hungry for connection clawing its way out.

“Maybe you’re meant to belong somewhere that’s not on a map, you know?” They tilted their head thoughtfully, a gentle shrug in their shoulders. “I know that sounds… vague, but some of us are a little too wild, even for this world. Doesn’t mean you’re without a place, Logan. Maybe it’s just somewhere different.”

Logan let the words sink in, feeling the honesty in them settle like warmth into his chest. He wasn’t used to anyone framing it like that. Usually, the mansion’s residents treated his absences like quirks, a fact of his nature, but it was different with E. They seemed to see through his wanderlust, to recognize something in it that went deeper than just the need to roam.

“Hell, maybe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shrug off the sudden vulnerability that gripped him. “Dunno if anyone ever told me it was all right to be that way.”

“Guess I just did,” they said, that teasing gleam returning, but softer this time. “Wherever you belong, Logan… you’re welcome in my orbit.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What happened to ‘I don’t need anyone, especially not you’?” His voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable spark of curiosity in his eyes.

E’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness tightening their features before they smoothed it out. “I don’t need anyone,” they repeated, but the words held a different tone now—less sharp, more open. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t offer a place to someone who needs it… if they want it.”

The words hung between them, suspended in the night air. Logan felt himself drawn to them again, a subtle battle between reason and instinct churning inside him once more. The reasonable part of him couldn’t fathom giving in to that unspoken need, but another part of him, primal, wanted to reach out, to take up their offer without a second thought. So against his better judgment, he let himself step closer, studying the way they seemed to radiate with a quiet strength, a calm that fed into his own unrest in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

E met his gaze, eyes steady and searching. “Who knows, maybe it could calm the need to wander for a time.”

A flicker of something softened Logan’s expression as he watched them, the words settling deep. “Not a lotta people see me,” he admitted, his voice gruff but his gaze locked onto theirs. “Not like this.”

E smiled, soft but sure. “Maybe because most people aren’t looking in the right places.”

They reached out, their hand brushing his forearm lightly once again, this time lingering—grounding him as much as it startled him. The tension between them was palpable, gnawing at his insides, at that hollow void that filled him. It felt like their connection was solidifying, and it was dangerous. It made his pulse race, his mind screaming at him to pull back, even as every fiber of him longed to stay close. He felt the warmth of their fingers as they pulled away, leaving a faint tingle in their wake. And suddenly, he wanted to know more about them—where they came from, what scars they hid beneath their words and allure, where they honed their fighting skills, what their true power was. So many questions burned on his lips, but he settled for something less intrusive instead.

“What about you… you ever stick around long enough to feel like you could belong somewhere?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t know where the question came from, only that it was out there now, drawn out by a need to connect, another piece of himself he rarely showed.

E paused, searching his eyes. “Once, maybe,” they murmured, and for a moment, a flicker of something deeply personal passed over their face. “But not for a long time.”

The weight of their words hung between them. They shifted again, the lingering sorrow barely visible before it was replaced by their usual confidence. But Logan caught it, the faint sadness, the echo of a familiar ache that mirrored his own. For just a heartbeat, they weren’t his rival, his partner in combat—they were something else, something fragile and human, someone who understood, and it awakened his protective instincts, making his claws itch under his skin.

“Guess we both got a little lost along the way,” he said softly.

They nodded, still holding his gaze, that warm glow growing just a touch brighter. “Then maybe we don’t need a map tonight. Just… a moment to be here.” Their eyes softened, catching his, and the way they looked at him, as if he was the only other soul in the universe, chipped away at some wall he hadn’t even known was still there.

Logan managed a rough smile, a smirk that barely covered the pull he felt toward them. “Guess I could live with that.”

E’s smile spread, almost in relief, as the two of them stood there—not fighters, not strangers, but two people sharing the same quiet space under the stars, filling the empty places between them, if only for a little while. Before he could stop himself, his thumb found its way to their cheek. The pull between them felt almost tangible, a lifeline connecting two drifting souls lost in the unending current of life.

Their face relaxed instantly under his touch, their eyes closing as a deep sigh escaped their lungs. They sensed his desire before he even realized what he was about to do. The world around them seemed to fade, the rustle of leaves and distant hum of crickets dissolving into the quiet thrum of their hearts. He leaned in, his lips so close they could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between them charged with anticipation.

And then they felt it—a subtle, almost magnetic pull as the energy began to flow, unbidden, from him to them. It was faint, like the first tremor of a storm. Panic flickered behind their eyes as they opened, the realization sharp and immediate. With a graceful tilt of their head, E shifted just enough for his lips to brush their cheek instead, the warmth there a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

Logan froze for a moment, surprise flickering across his expression before he blinked, as if shaking off a spell broken by the soft press of his lips against their cheek. He pulled back, eyes searching theirs for answers, confusion and something deeper swirling in their depths. The space between them thickened, heavy with the unspoken.

“I—” E’s voice wavered, a soft, apologetic smile tugging at their lips as their fingers drifted to the necklace at their throat, the cool pearl grounding them. “It’s late,” they said, each word layered with unexpressed longing.

Logan’s brows knit together, confusion still etched across his face as he took in their expression, the unguarded look that spoke of things they couldn’t voice. E took a long, steady look at him, memorizing the rough kindness in his eyes and the silent question he wouldn’t push. The pull between them ached with what they had to refuse.

With a deep breath, E took a step back. “Goodnight, Logan.”

The silence lingered as he watched them walk away, their silhouette fading into the night. Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something deeper than he’d anticipated. And for the first time since they’d met, he wondered just how much control he truly had over the pull that tethered him to them, an unknown force that defied the walls he’d spent a lifetime building.

To be continued…

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don't forget to follow the tags "Devilish Desires" and "xpressit writings" to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[matt0044]

The problem we face with Harry Potter comes down to one thing:

It's become too entrenched in popular culture. Some are easily (and rightfully) able to discard any affinity they might've had for the series in lieu of the author emboldening the current climate of Trans Rights but the "normies" as it were?

-The kids who curiously find the books or movies at a library and read it all on their own, disconnected from the wider socio-politics we're cursed to know.

-The parents who enjoy it with their kids and aren't as Facebook-brain as others might be.

-The general public who aren't on social media 24/7 (how I envy them) and go to a Barnes & Noble to find a shelf dedicated to Harry Potter.

Not all of Rowling's income derives from those who actively worship her as the Dark Lord of TERFs. Because not all recognize her as an unholy combo of Voldemort's dreaded cult of personality and Vernon Dursley's intolerance of the "abnormal."

Harry Potter is bigger than Rowling, especially among those who "don't care for politics." And that's the true crux of the problem. Publishers consider her too profitable to drop, Warner Bros. made bank off the movies and sadly it seems like there's no stopping the Max Original to come.

Hell, Hogwarts Legacy just bottomed out due to being poorly made. We're not just talking about some indie project. This was the MCU before the MCU. This was a book series heavily pushed at libraries and book stores that got kids interested in reading.

As much as we do the best we can, well... it's not exactly much. Like only a court case could possibly take it to Rowling and, even if they didn't win, her ills would be more on display. But it doesn't seem like anybody will actually step up to the plate.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Welcome to Westview

AN: Happy Halloween yall!

Series Masterlist

Mcu Masterlist

Warnings: angst, slight ooc, 1980's au

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The night before went smoothly after that, once you gathered the necessary cleaning supplies you decided that it was too late in the day to actually cook anything, plus traveling and moving in took a lot out of you already so you ordered take out. Nothing too crazy, just a typical pizza from the local pizzeria and a bottle of water to wash it down. In a couple of days you’ll start your job as the replacement History teacher at the school, so until then you’ve got plenty to keep you busy. From shopping for your new home to social calls. 

You woke up to the sunlight beaming directly onto your face, forcing you to wake all too soon for your liking. You silently noted that the third to last step creaked as you descended the stairs, you’ll probably have to pick up a few “how to” manuals from the library in order to fix it. You were about to enter the kitchen when you almost face palmed yourself, right, you didn’t buy any groceries yesterday and even if you had, you didn’t have a kettle or coffee pot. Groaning you trudged your way back upstairs to get dressed to get breakfast, kettle and coffee pot, the first two appliances you’ll buy for the kitchen. 

After pulling on a sweater and pairing it with high waisted jeans and shoes you once again go outside to walk into town.  

The heart of Westview wasn’t at all far from where your little home sat in the cul de sac, and from the few people bustling about, you were not the only early riser this morning. Stores were beginning to open and you find yourself wondering if the Westview Gazette had opened its doors as well. You decide to briefly check as you make your way to the diner for breakfast. 

You quietly enjoyed the peace and relative quiet that the morning brought, the air was cool but slowly warming up and a light breeze occasionally blew. Puddles from the rain yesterday were still there, though smaller now than before. As you pass the main street across from the Gazebo you could already see through the window pane that Loki was already awake and working. You made note of this as you walked into the diner. 

You ordered two teas and a breakfast sandwich to go and promptly made your way to the Westview Gazette. You felt your heart beat a little faster as you approached the door, ‘was this stupid?’ you silently asked yourself though you weren’t sure how it could be. If anyone else had asked you if it was stupid to bring someone tea as a ‘thank you’ you would tell them no…and yet when it applies to you, it seems, you feel insecure in that stance. With a deep breath and a reassuring thought that this, indeed, was not stupid and walked in. 

The bell attached to the door rang as it opened, signaling your arrival. You took it all in, the dark wooden floors and desks, most had typewriters and papers arranged neatly beside, the newsroom itself was not very big but with the way it was arranged you would hardly notice the lack of space. 

“Janet,” you saw Loki come in from what you assume is his personal office, he had yet to look up from the various papers he was flipping through, “I’ve got some appointments today that I need you to cancel and a phone number to acquire while I–” 

“Hello,” You greet as he looked up and saw that you–in fact–were not Janet, “have I come at a bad time?” he stared for a second before clearing his throat, discarding the papers on the desk beside him. 

“No,” he says making his way over, “no not at all, sorry about that I thought you were–” 

“Janet,” you finished his sentence with a small chuckle, “sorry to disappoint.”

“Not at all,” he smiled, “so what brings you here?”

You hand him the to-go cup in your right hand, “I’ve come bearing a ‘thank you’ gift, for not murdering me and scattering my remains.” 

“Anytime,” he takes a sip, “tea?”

“Yeah,” you say suddenly worried that you got the wrong kind, “it’s just plain black tea from the diner, I wasn’t sure if you were a coffee or tea kind of person–if I got it wrong you can toss it out it’s fi–” 

“No no” he says, “it’s fine truly, it would be rude to throw away a gift.” 

“It isn’t if the gifter says so,” you argue. 

“It’s not how I was raised,” he says, taking another sip while glancing at the clock before returning his eyes back to you, “you’re up awfully early.” 

“I needed to get a few errands done,” you explain, taking a sip of your own tea, “after this I plan to check out this ad in the paper advertising this used car for sale, if it’s functional and still up for grabs I’ll head over there to get it today, if not I’ll just head over to the store and get some things I need like pots and pans and alike.” 

“Didn’t you bring those kinds of things with you while moving?”

“Just a skillet that’s been passed down in the family,” you shrug, “really the only things I brought with me were whatever was in the suitcases you helped me with and a few things I had moved here, like my bed and television.” 

“Not the sentimental type then,” he took another sip. Before you could ask what he meant by that, the ringing of the door's bell alerted you that other people were starting to clock in.

“Well I’ll leave you to it,” you said, “again, thank you for the ride yesterday.” you were about to walk out the door when Loki stopped you.

“Yes?” You asked, his expression unreadable until he cleared his throat and a sort of friendly look came onto his face. He grabbed a small card from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to you. 

“If you need another ride somewhere–or just to chat, my number is on the card,” he says before retracting his hand, “anyways, I’ll see you around then.”

“Thanks,” you pocketed the card carefully, “I’ll see you around.” and with that you finally left, sipping what’s left of your tea before tossing it into the closest garbage bin. You can’t contain the smile on your lips as you think to yourself how hopeful this was. Not just one, but two people have already given you their numbers and you already have a social call to make today with a prospective friend. Not even 24 hours in and you’re already leaps and bounds beyond anything you were there. 

‘I’m doing it mom,’ you thought to yourself, ‘I finally found a place where I might belong.’ 

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You ended up eating at one of the benches at the park before you used the payphone to call the number on the ad. 120 for a 1974 hillman avenger, it wasn’t in the best condition, but you needed a car and where else were you going to get one for that price?

You drove home, happy that you finally have a vehicle so that you can finally get some serious shopping done, like all the things you’ll need from the hardware and appliance store as well as groceries. You liked walking, it was calming and provided some exercise, but there was a limit to how many bags you can physically carry. 

You pulled into your driveway and remembered the commitment you made the previous day with your new neighbor, Wanda. You looked at your watch and saw it was around the time that people normally ate lunch. You exited your car and made your way to her house. You remembered her pointing to the house with the red flowers in the front yard and the number 2800 on it. You noted how clean her yard looked and well looked after her small garden was, and as you approached the gateway you saw bits of lavender and rosemary planted there. You brush past it as you knock on her door, you wonder if you should’ve brought something as you hear rustling from behind the door before it opened revealing Wanda. Her curly hair held back in a low ponytail as a red bandana head scarf adorned her head as well, her high waisted jeans paired with a loosely buttoned white shirt. Now that you see her in brighter lighting, you see just how natural she looked, Wanda just naturally beamed beauty. 

“Hi,” you manage to get out, you see her smile subtly at you as she greets you back. 

“Hello there,” Wanda says as she stands in the doorway, leaning slightly against it. 

“Umm,” you clear your throat suddenly, a little nervous, “if your offer to chat still stands, do you want to grab some lunch with me?” you point over to where your car sat, “I just got the car today so I can drive.” You really hope you’re not coming across weird and are reassured as you see Wanda practically beam in excitement. 

“Absolutely,” Wanda beamed, grabbing her coat before closing the door behind her, “where are we headed?” 

“I was hoping you might make a suggestion,” you walked beside her, “I don’t really know where the best place to get lunch is.” 

“Then let’s head to this italian place over on Shepard,” Wanda decides as she rounds the car to the passenger seat, “most people head to Gem’s Diner around this time so it’ll probably be vacant for the most part.” You nodded as you entered the driver's side, almost matching the same energy as Wanda, and as you put your seatbelt on and started the engine, you started what you hoped to be many afternoon lunches with Wanda. 

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You followed Wanda’s directions and soon enough you end up at this Italian restaurant called ‘Ciao Bianchi’, but according to Wanda, everyone just calls it Ciao’s. It’s quaint but lovely, with red walls and the scent of spices in the air. Already you feel your mouth start to salivate at the thought of some freshly made food. You are sat quickly and order just as fast. 

“So,” Wanda starts as the waiter walks away with your meal ticket, her hands placed under her chin, “tell me about yourself, why did you move to Westview?”

“Oh you know,” you say casually, “a new start and a new life, what about you? You said yesterday you moved here a few years ago.”

“Same thing,” She says, sighing deeply, “I wanted a new life, a new start. I wanted to give my boys something I never had.” 

“Which was?”

“A home.” You could tell she didn’t mean to let that slip as she covers her mouth and her eyes widen, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to get so dark there.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured, offering a smile, “so were you in the foster system or did you just move around a lot?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “me and my brother Pietro, we went in the system after our parents died and we didn’t come out until we were of age.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically, “that must’ve been rough.”

“Occasionally,” she smiles sadly, “at least we didn’t get separated.” 

“So,” you say, “tell me about your brother.”

“Twin,” she reveals, “he’s 12 minutes older, my son Tommy looks just like him, even inherited his mischievous nature.” you were gonna pressure her for further details when you saw a sad smile graced her lips, and decided to leave those details for another day. 

“And Tommy, is he also a twin or is your other boy younger?” 

“Twins,” she laughs lightly, “it runs in the family I guess” 

“Does it run in your husband's family as well?” There was a moment of silence after that, almost contemplative before Wanda spoke again. 

“No,” She said before continuing, “Vision was an only child, but when we found out we were having twins he had been ecstatic. I chose Tommy’s name while he chose Billy’s.” the past tense didn’t slip by you, and by the slight desperate look in her eyes you know already without her having to say, “he even had me time him to see how fast he could wrap a diaper on a baby doll. He would read Shakespeare and sing yakety yak to them, he was an amazing father.”

“I’m jealous,” you admit, playing with the napkin on the table, “it seems like he was a good man.”

“He was,” she smiled before clearing her throat as drinks were brought to the table, you both thanked the waiter, “well,” she started again taking a sip of her water, “what about you, what’s your family like?” 

You had hoped to keep the topic on her but you should’ve known better, after all, you were the newcomer. No one in this town knew anything about you, a mystery that you’re sure the more nosier neighbors want every detail of. 

“I didn’t necessarily grow up with a lot of family,” you said as you also took a sip of your drink, “it was just my mom and I for the majority of it, but she was wonderful. She was a nurse,” more or less, “and an amazing cook, she could make a five star meal out of basically nothing.” You see the gears behind Wanda’s eyes work as she also notices the past tense and bittersweet tone in your voice. 

“What about friends?” 

“I was a bit of a loner,” it was kind of the truth, “but I’m hoping that coming to Westview will change that.” 

“It already has,” Wanda smiled, grabbing her glass and raising it, “to new friends.”

“And new beginnings,” you follow suit, clinking the plastic cups together as you and Wanda chuckle softly at the silliness. 

“So how do you feel about sitcoms?” 

[holylulusworld]

Looking for some recommendations by you or your kind followers 🥰

Steve or Bucky mafia / mob or abo series

And Henry Cavill series (I've fallen into a big rabbit hole of lusting over that man lol)

I've read all of your stories so much Lulu, like Consolidation Bride is like my number 1 series. I reread it often sometimes when I walk my dog or when I'm moody and on my period😂.

Hi lovely. Aw, I'm happy someone loves Consolation Bride as much as I do. I'm tempted to write a sequel, I just don't know when.

Let's see, I will list the blogs coming to my mind in random order. I hope I don't forget half of the people I follow...

I highly recommend @angrythingstarlight's blog for Mafia AUs. She has wonderful Mafia AUs for Bucky.

@navybrat817 has great stories for Bucky & Steve & Henry's characters. Check her Bucky list for Mafia stories.

@kinanabinks has an awesome Mafia Bucky x Best Friend (fairy) series. You can find it here: MOB!BUCKY MASTERLIST

@jtargaryen18 has a wonderful Mafia Steve / arranged marriage story called His Inheritance (ongoing). I got it on my reading list.

@sinner-as-saint has all your little heart desires, including mafia AUs, A/B/O and so much more.

@biteofcherry has great a/b/o & mafia stories for Steve. I think some are dark, so check the warnings for triggers.

@smutsonian has this mafia Steve I just discovered and need to read.

@buckyalpine has a story called pretty little thing with Mob Bucky. It's on my reading list.

You are looking for Henry & his roles? Fear not. Look at @littlefreya's blog. Here's her "stories" masterlist. There is a drabbles masterlist in her bio too.

Do you need more Henry? Here you go: @viking-raider will help you out.

@waiting4inspiration has an Alpha Bucky series.

These are the ones coming to my mind atm. If anyone has stories for nonnie to read, please feel free to add them to his post. 😊

[theoddcryptid]

I'm your local cryptid in the woods.

Information:

Known as: Andy, Athens, @athenswrites, @whydoesthechecksay1987

Gender: UNKNOWN

Pronouns: he / they

First reported sighting: May 2004

Last recorded sighting: UNKNOWN

Found in: Deep South or Appalachia, oftentimes curled up in the back of a library or elbow deep in archival storage

Distinctive features: wears an ankh, death stare, patchy stubble on chin, unkempt dyed hair, tattoo on lower left leg (volcano), tattoo above right knee (rain woman), tattoo above right elbow (Canis Major)

Personality: reclusive but friendly, make take some forcing to come out of his shell

Likes: studying history / anthropology, writing, divination, sitting in the dark depths of archives, taking care of his houseplants, drinking too much diet coke

Dislikes: tomatoes, going anywhere without headphones, flickering fluorescent lights, the sound of electric cars, succulents

Things you might find here:

shitposts

history and anthro stuff

recipes

witchcraft

tarot and other divination

ancient egypt

gardening

houseplants

art

Gravity Falls

FNAF

The Hunger Games

ATLA

LoK

MCU

Good Omens

Hazbin Hotel / Helluva Boss

or whatever else I'm into at the moment

Hope you stick around for a little while :)

Pfp link: Potatolord's Persona Maker

Check HERE if my requests for free readings are open

and here's my carrd if you want to find my other links

[writerscafehub]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀: 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

I give myself a solid 3 stars. I think I can churn out some good stories and smut, but I know I make grammatical errors and sometimes my stories have an awkward flow, but I'm always working to get better. 

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I’ve been told a few times that I have a good story telling ability; so I think that’s where I shine/stand out/ Being able to take a prompt, a song, or just a few quotes and turn it into a full story.

Are there any writers that inspire you?

Unfortunately, a lot of the writers who inspired me have left tumblr and are lost to time. Some of the ones that are still here are angryschnauzer, tsuntsunfangirl, and caffiened-queen. Some new favourites are Navy, hansensgirl, harryspet, tumblin-theworldaway, and of course all my friends in the server <3

What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

It’s so hard to pick just one so i’ll give two! I’m incredibly proud of my Spooptober 2023 collection. It was a tribute and inspired by Hozier’s newest album, and it was the first time I completed a monthly collection! Easter Bunny is definitely a favourite as well; not only a Lee fic (I love our Sheriff so much) but it was a chance to write some real escapist fluff. 

Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

Loki, Bucky, and Cap are definitely my easiest characters. They’re my ol’ reliables and I love all three of them.

Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

The obvious answer is: BUCKY lol. But a lot of my fifcs tgend  to be escapism style stories. Bucky coming in to “rescue” the reader in one form or another, even if it’s a dark “rescue”

Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

I have 3 long term multi chapter fics planned that I can’t wait to share with everyone (eventually). Two of them are Kylo Ren fics, with one having Kylo Ren as a Director of an art museum, hiring an intern whom Kylo assumes is a guy, but is actually a v cute girl and the other being a Mafia!Kylo with an arranged marriage. The last is a Loki fic with Loki as the CEO of a company who needs a bride to appear good for business purposes. 

First fandom you ever wrote for?

Technically the MCU. The first ever fic I wrote was a Tom Hiddleston fic.

Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

I admit I don’t really believe in “guilty” pleasures; pleasures should be enjoyed! But man am I a sucker for my dub/non-con, kidnapping, and yandere stories!

A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

I try to not to say “never” because i’m always open to inspiration, but i don’t see myself ever writing anything with pregnancy/babies

Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I wrote this INSANE fic called “When Magic Meets Insanity” which is a threesome between Loki, Reader, and Jerome Valeska from Gotham. It’s crack to hell and is still available to read on my AO3. 

Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Stucky. Always. They are my OTP and I love how fun it is to explore their relationship. Especially throwing Sam into the mix. 

Do you listen to anything while you write?

It mostly depends on what/who i’m writing, but yes! For example, I’ll listen to oldies stuff when I'm writing for Lee, and I have this GREAT Asgardian library ambience for writing Loki. 

One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

One-shots. 

Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Not really, I sometimes imagine what happens after, but once a fic is done, I tend to just put it on a shelf and leave it. It’s why I hardly write sequels

Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I long to write some really good multi-chaptered works, but I struggle with writing long term conflict and i’m worried they’ll be awkward and won’t read well. 

What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

The best comment I’ve ever gotten was on my fic Sunlight (Sun God!Steve) from tumblin-theworldaway. She wrote a big huge comment on the fic and it was like the first thing I saw on a monday morning and I needed a good comment. 

Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

I won’t say “comfort zone” but I wrote my first ever Monster Fucker fic not too long ago, “By Land or By Sea” about Sea Monster!Loki and it was defintely new and interesting to write! 

Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Fluff, always. I’m always a sucker for happy endings (even dark happy endings lol)

Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

Sort of. I have a beauty and the beast style novel planned. The beast is a rich lobbyist for oil industries. And the beauty is an indigenous woman who meets the beast at a cabin in the woods. It’s still heavily in development and i’m not sure when it’ll come to fruition. 

If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

“Teddy Bears” for sure. With slightly dark Bucky and Steve kidnapping me (is it kidnapping if i’m willing?? lol) and telling me I don’t have to work and they’ll take care of me? I’d be there in a heartbeat. 

Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I always write stoned lol. I get a ton of creativity and inspiration from weed and it helps make the ideas flow. It just can take a while to interpret all my stoned ramblings sometimes. 

Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

This is from my most recently published fic, the last fic in my Spooptober Collection, “To Someone from a Warmer Climate. The fic is about a witch!reader who is visited by a humble sheriff, Lee Bodecker. But he is more than meets the eye.

“Mmmmm…damn…That’s the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. And I just love the taste of the forgetfulness potion you added.”  Your heart dropped into your stomach.                 “What did you say?” He didn’t answer, only leaning back in his chair. He blinked and where crystal blue eyes had seemed to make him handsome and rakish; now were two inky black pits. He blinked again and his eyes were human again, but now his irises were crimson red. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’d dealt with a few lower-level demons in your travels, but never someone who you could walk through your house’s defenses so easily. Usually, any malevolent force was neutralized before it even touched your house. But he…he was something darker. “I’d heard about a pretty witch living out here in the woods.” Lee continued. “Thought it was just another one of them dippy mortals wearing peace signs. But then that little old lady came in, bringing some brownies she said you’d made. And when I tasted them, I knew for sure. There was a real little witch somewhere in town. “Though it took me a while to find ya, darling. All them wards and runes…you’ve kept yourself pretty well hidden. But when that same sweet little old lady called in, worried about her friend in the woods, I knew I’d found you and here you are. Hidden away from the world, cooking up spells your nose buried in a mountain of books. All that defensive magic and you opened the front door for me and invited me in. Silly girl.” His eyes raked over your body, studying you.

Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

Fanfiction writing has been some of the most fun writing I've ever had. I’ve loved writing for my whole life but sometimes it’s a struggle to write and create an entire cast/world. Fanfiction gives a helping hand to an entire gallery of characters with infinite possibilities. Not to mention the fact that based on “What if” logic, there is a multiverse out there where these fics really happen lol. I look forward to even more writing in the future, both fanfic and original. 

[juicyfruit-22]

The Juiciest Recap #1

Hey y'all, welcome to the juiciest recap! I LOVE reading fanfiction, so I decided to share some of the fics I've enjoyed. Be sure to check out my sideblog @juicyfruit22-library for more recs!

HansenKemp (Fresh + Gray Man)

Married to Chaos by @readmymindao3

ItaFushi (Jujutsu Kaisen)

from hell, with love by terriana

The Rabbit in the Moon by @zillala

NaruSasu (Naruto)

Darkness Written on Your Soul by GoldenEyesObession

Stucky (MCU)

Up Close and Personal by @dontcallmebree

Currently Reading...

Cut Him Out In Little Stars (Stucky) by @gloromeien

give him something to believe in (Stucky) by @howdoyousleep3

The House Always Wins (HansenKemp) by Read_My_Mind

The Taste of Blood and Wine (Kalijah) by quillsandinkwells

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 :* ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧

*not taking oneshot or alphabet requests (as of 04/07/2025 - uk date)

Fandoms:

○ lord of the rings ○ baldur's gate 3 ○ the hobbit ○ rings of power ○ bbc sherlock ○ the grishaverse ○ danganronpa v3 ○ howl's moving castle ○ mcu ○ my hero academia ○ lucifer (netflix) ○ the mighty nein ○ the hunger games ○ the queen's gambit ○ the invisible library ○ possibly more (so don't be afraid of requesting)

Type :

Oneshots* : A one-shot fanfiction

Ficlet : A shorter (under 1k) oneshot

Scenario(s) : Scenario, generally in a series of bullet points

Headcanons : Bulletpoints of characters in scenarios (max nine charaters per collection)

Character alphabets* (not nsfw, but feel free to send me links to ones. If not specified I use the sfw alphabet)

Alphabet snippets (send me up to five letters from an alphabet, and which ones it's from. Other than that, same rules as above apply)

General what I'll write :

Platonic or romantic

Polyamory/multiple love interests

Female, male, or non-binary love interest (with any gendered reader as well)

Suggested spice (currently not writing pure smut)

Dark-fics (e.g yandere/one-ring corruption)

Alternate Universe fics

A sequel to one of my works/a request I've already done with new characters

Other not doing (may change/more added later) : - Pure smut- Pregnancy (I'll do fics with children involved, or how character would be as a parent - just not ones centred on pregnancy)

You can be specific with the request, but understand I might not completely follow it. The more detailed the request the less likely it is to be followed completely. Please feel free to specify aus or timelines, however.

I write 'reader' gender-neutral, and generally as neutral as possible, so if you want something specific - e.g plus-sized reader or male reader - let me known and I'll write them that way!

(Want to request but struggling for inspiration/not sure if I'll like the prompt? Here is a list made by me that I'm happy to write for <3)

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

[seerofmike]

so im reading Seven Blades in Black because the cover caught my attention and i THINK i like it, as in, i have not given up on it yet the way i did with Lightlark after 1 chapter (im 100ish pages in) but holy shit the narration is getting old. I've always been worried that even though my writing feels (To Me) very Riordan-esque in humor, that people would read it as MCU-poisoned "well that just happened!" humor. and this book comfortably assuages my worries about my own writing because it is literally the most MCU-poisoned a dark gritty fantasy novel can be. every character talks the same and swears like a middle schooler. im reading this and going "surely MY character voice and humor is not this bad"

that being said the premise and main character are interesting enough that i haven't given up yet. 100 pages is actually pretty far for me (granted its a 700 page novel) because if something doesn't instantly hook me within the first 20 its back to the library. i just wish the narration didnt annoy me so much because it has taken me 2 whole weeks to even read those 100 pages

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Thor: The Dark World (Part Two)

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

MCU Rewrite Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You leave the banquet hall and head over to the library which is all the way on the other side of the castle. No one comes in here since it was built for Loki. Thor doesn't like to read, Frigga doesn't have time to read, and Odin never sees the point of it. Frigga convinced Odin to have it built, and Loki spent all his time here whenever he could. Even after all this time apart, nothing has changed. You enter the library on the first floor and look up to the small second-story that overlooks the rest of the room.

You and Loki walk into the library while the annual ball is still happening in the ballroom. It's quiet in here but you can still hear the music play from across the castle. Loki takes you to the second story where there is a small alcove next to the window Loki loves to sit at when he reads.

"Dance with me," he says.

He takes your hand and pulls you flush against his body. You wrap your left arm around his neck while your right hand is in his left hand. His right arm slips around your waist to keep you there, but you're not going anywhere. The music flows softly into the library, giving you enough to dance to.

Loki loves to read poetry so you walk over to the section and grab a few books he'll love. You balance both plates in one hand while holding the books in the other. You snuck into the dungeon when the guards were bringing Loki but you'll have to use your powers in order to get past the ones that are by the front door. Frigga will be the best option.

You turn into her right before walking into the hallway where the guards are posted. They stand up straighter when they see Frigga.

"Your Majesty," one of them says.

"Please let me through."

"My deepest apologies, ma'am. Our orders are not to let anyone in at this time."

"I am here to give my son some food so unless you'd like me to tell Odin about this, I suggest you move."

Both guards look at each other before moving out of the way. You walk inside and approach Loki's cell. He's confused to see his mother but relaxes when you turn back into yourself.

"How do you plan on getting in here?" he asks.

You open a portal with your powers that lets you get inside his cell. You step through and let it close behind you with a smile on your face.

"I got two of your favorite books and some food for you."

You set the books down on the small side table next to the long couch and sit down. You put his plate of food on the coffee table and dig into your plate. He doesn't eat at first but he does when he sees you eating.

"I know I must sound like a broken record, but why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Ever since I saw you for the first time in a thousand years, something unlocked inside my brain. A door that I didn't know was closed this whole time. The more I thought about you, the more new memories would come to light. When you came to Earth, I kept getting more and more memories of you... of us... happy ones. My feelings for you started to come back. I don't see what everyone else sees."

"What do you see?" he asks in a small voice.

"I see a man who is deserving of love and kindness. I see a man who has been mistreated his whole life. It hurts that everyone was so poorly to you. We were happy for that year I spent on Asgard. Nothing else mattered but us. You can't deny that."

As you're talking, you find yourself scooting closer to him.

"I did lock your memories away," Loki admits.

"Why?"

"Xenia was coming for you. Markus figured out you were gone and was already on his way over to get you. I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. I did the one thing that would protect you from me. I thought it best if you forgot who I was."

You move even closer and grab his shaking hand. You rub your thumb across the back of his hand before looking into his eyes.

"Remembering that I forgot you was one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with."

He looks down. "I didn't call them, you know."

"Call who?"

"Back in Hulk's cell, I told you I was the one who called Markus. It wasn't me. I'd do anything to get you to stay with me."

You reach up and cup his jaw gently to pull him closer to you. You rest your forehead on his and look into his eyes.

"I won't ever forget you again. I love you, Loki," you whisper. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean in and kiss him for the first time in a thousand years. He welcomes the kiss and momentarily forgets that people can see you two from their cells. "Would you like some more food to eat?"

"No, but I won't oppose more books."

"Okay. I'll be right back," you smile.

You kiss him quickly and use your powers to leave his cell. You turn back into Frigga since the guards know she walked in. You head to the library and look out the window to see Thor on the rainbow bridge. Asgard was quick to repair the damages from when Thor used his hammer to destroy it. Heimdall is back at the Observatory to overlook the Nine Realms. You get curious and deviate off course to join Thor's side.

"Hey, where are you going?" He doesn't answer but you already know the answer. "This is your third time looking in on her. You have the Tesseract. You have me. Go to Earth if you miss her."

"I can't disrupt her life now," Thor sighs. "What kind of man would I be to return only to leave her again? No, it's better this way."

"Would you like some company?"

"From you? Of course," he smiles.

You two walk to Heimdall who turns when you enter the Observatory.

"You're late," he says.

"Merriment can sometimes be a heavier burden than battle."

"Then you're doing one of them incorrectly."

"Perhaps," Thor chuckles. "How fare the stars?"

"Still shining. From here I can see Nine Realms and ten trillion souls." Heimdall falls silent and looks at Thor. "You recall what I told you of the Convergence?"

"Yes, the alignment of the worlds. It approaches, doesn't it?"

"The universe hasn't seen this marvel since before my watch began. Few can sense it and even fewer can see it. A world that's infected can be dangerous. It is truly beautiful."

"How is she?" Thor asks after a moment.

"She's quite clever, your mortal. She doesn't know it yet, but she studies the Convergence as well. Even--"

Heimdall stops talking suddenly, and you and Thor look at him in concern.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I can't see her."

That's concerning seeing how Heimdall can see everyone.

"Will you come with me?" Thor asks.

"Of course."

Loki will be fine if you're gone a little while longer. It's not like he can go anywhere. Heimdall uses his staff to open the Bifrost to Earth, transporting you and Thor back to it. It's raining when you arrive, and Thor's entrance makes thunder crack in the sky. Jane and Darcy are talking to each other while the local police are rushing over to them in cars.

You frown when you see a small circle around Darcy and Jane that is completely dry. It's raining but not on either of them. Something weird is going on here. Jane turns and spots you and Thor standing a few feet from them. She hands something to Darcy and walks off, causing the small protective circle to follow Jane. Darcy immediately gets wet without the barrier surrounding her friend.

Jane walks up to Thor and immediately slaps him in the face. You whistle lowly but keep your distance to give them some time to reconnect. You step out into the rain and let it wash over you.

The only time it ever rained on Asgard just so happens to be when you're there with Loki, hiding from Markus. Loki stays under the canopy while you're outside in the rain with a huge grin on your face.

"Darling, you're going to get sick."

"I'm fine with that. Come join me."

"No, I'm okay."

You walk over to him and grab his hand. He steels himself on the ground so you can't pull him into the rain but you're not going to do that.

"Come on. It's just water. It's not going to hurt you. It's calming."

Loki doesn't want anything to ruin your good mood. Your smile is too beautiful to be anywhere but on your face. His resolve melts away as you pull him into the rain. You pull him in close to dance with him but he has other plans. He cups your jaw and kisses you gently.

There is nowhere you'd rather be at this moment than in his arms.

Jane slaps Thor again which brings you out of your memories.

"Where were you?!"

"Where were you? Heimdall could not see you."

"I was right here where you left me. I was waiting, then I was crying, and then I went out looking for you. You said you were coming back."

"I know, I know, but the Bifrost was destroyed. The Nine Realms erupted into chaos, wars were raging, and marauding hordes were pillaging. I had to put an end to the slaughter."

Jane sighs and looks away from him.

"As excuses go, that's not terrible." She looks at him again. "Wait, I saw you on TV. You were in New York!"

"Jane, I fought to protect you from the dangers of my world but I was wrong. I was a fool. I believe that fate brought us together. Jane, I don't know where you were or what happened, but I do know this."

"What?"

Thor leans in to kiss her but Darcy interrupts them.

"Hey!" You all look at her and she points to the rain. "Is that you?"

You wave your hand in the air to stop the rain from falling using your powers. You use your fire powers to dry yourself off so you're no longer soaking wet.

"Uh, we're kind of in the middle of something," Jane says to her friend.

"I'm pretty sure we are getting arrested."

The local police stop and get out, and Jane leaves your side to deal with the police.

"Look at you, still all muscly and everything. How's space?" Darcy asks.

"Space is fine."

"How is... everything with you?" Darcy asks you.

"It's good."

"This is private property and you're trespassing, the lot of you." You look over at the police who look pissed off. "You'll have to come with me."

The office grabs Jane's arm but something inside of her creates a powerful force that pushes the officer and everything else away from her. Thor immediately runs over to her who is lying on the ground in confusion.

"Jane! Are you alright?" he asks and helps her up.

"What just happened?"

"Place your hands on your head, step back!" an officer shouts.

"Are you serious? She's sick," you say.

"She's dangerous."

"So are we," you glare.

Thor pulls Jane close and you stand next to them since you know he is summoning the Bifrost. Before Jane has a chance to say anything, the Bifrost opens and sucks you three into it. She steps into the Observatory with wonderment in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"We have to do that again." She notices Heimdall for the first time. "Hi."

"Welcome to Asgard."

You and Thor escort her to the infirmary so that Asgardian doctors can look at what is inside her. Their technology will always amaze you. She is lying on the table, and there is a sand version of her hovering above her that the doctors can manipulate instead of sticking her with needles. She is in awe and tries touching the sand version but her hand goes right through. Inside the sand version is a red and angry entity that you're unfamiliar with.

"What is that?" Jane asks.

"Be still," one of the doctors says.

"This is not of Earth, what is it?" Thor wonders.

"We do not know, but she will not survive the amount of energy surging within her."

"This is a quantum field generator, isn't it?" Jane asks.

"It's a Soul Forge."

"Does a Soul Forge transfer molecular energy from one place to another?"

The Asgardian doctor looks impressed by her knowledge and nods in affirmation.

"Yes."

Jane looks at Thor with a smirk.

"It's a quantum field generator," she whispers, and Thor smiles at her.

The double doors open and Odin walks in. Even after everything you've done for Asgard and the royal family, you're still uneasy to be around Odin. You really don't like him.

"My words are mere noises to you that you ignore them completely?"

"She's ill, Father."

"She is mortal. Illness is their defining trait."

"I brought her here because we can help her."

"She does not belong here in Asgard any more than a goat belongs at a banquet table."

Jane takes offense to this and sits up on the table. The sand version of herself disappears completely.

"Did he just...? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm Odin. King of Asgard. Protector of the Nine Realms."

"Oh." Her confidence dissipates. "Well, I'm--"

"I know very well who you are, Jane Foster."

"You told your dad about me?" she asks Thor.

"Something is within her, Father, something I have not seen before."

"Her world has its healers, let them deal with it. Guards, take her back to Midgard."

Two guards move to grab her but before you and Thor can stop it, whatever is within her blasts everyone back in a red hue. Jane falls back onto the table with a confused and tired look.

"Don't touch her!" Thor rushes over to her and touches her head gently. "Are you alright?"

"That's impossible," Odin whispers.

"The infection, sir, is defending her."

"No, it's defending itself. You three, come with me."

Odin might not like what your kind has done to his family but he can't ignore the good you have done. He sees the trust his son has placed in you, and that won't go unrewarded. You three follow Odin to the library, and you suddenly remember you left Loki.

"There are relics that predate the universe itself. What lies within her appears to be one of them. The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn as they will have a dusk." Odin pulls out an ancient-looking book and opens it to the page he wants. "Before that dawn, the dark forces, the Dark Elves, reigned absolute and unchallenged."

"Born of eternal night, the Dark Elves come to steal away your light," Thor reads. "They were these stories Mother told us as children."

"Their leader, Malekith, made a weapon out of that darkness, it was called the Aether." You gasp when you hear the name but choose not to say anything about it. "While the other relics often appeared as stones, the Aether is fluid and ever-changing. It changes matter into dark matter and seeks out host bodies, drawing strength from their life force. Malekith sought to use the Aether's power to return the universe to one of darkness. After eternities of bloodshed, my father, Bor, finally triumphed in ushering in the peace that lasted thousands of years."

You look at Jane to gauge her reaction. The thing inside of her might be called the Aether now, but it once was called something else entirely. That's the reality stone.

"What happened?" Jane asks.

"He killed them all."

"Are you certain? The Aether was said to have been destroyed with them and yet here it is."

"The Dark Elves are dead."

You have a feeling they aren't.

"Does your book happen to mention how to get it out of me?"

"No, it does not."

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

A-Z Ask Meme | Open

@dezimaton asked: A-Z ask meme: O(adapted) because I'd like to hand you the song: [Gone Angels, Library of Ruina], U, X please!

Thank you! Also, I love that song you suggested, it's got an interesting vibe!

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of? This may be too obvious, but just listening to that song and reading over the lyrics, my vibe was just...Sephiroth, and then specifically Sephesis. Like, it felt like a flavor of Sephesis during their separation, during the defection--it's like they're in the middle of a dance, dealing with the loss, the betrayal, the separation, the confusion, the devastation of information, and then just the reality of the dark lies crashing down on them. It's as if they want to go back, yet they know they're stumbling forward. They want to hold close, yet they want to just toss each other away. Just, their dance.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites. Not sure if this was three period, one from each fandom OR three each, three from one fandom each, so I'm going with the first lol. With FF7, it's always been Vincent Valentine. It started superficially because of just, aesthetics and primarily because his english VA in AC being a VA I was following somewhat at the time. But the love for him has just grown heavier and heavier through the years. Dirge was the first FF game I ever got, and ever beat, too. And it's the one I've replayed the most. I just adore his character, in ways that it'd take me too long to list out lol. Best way to summarize is just...his vibe from the inside in, the tragedy, the spooky intelligent badass vibes, his heart, his pain, his dark humor, just, all of it. Uuummm...trying to decide other fandoms to choose, though. I'll be honest, the top two other fandoms that have circled the back of my mind while my focus has been on FF7, feel free to judge, have been Marvel and BNHA/MHA. Though, Marvel I'm fairly disconnected from most new media and really only care for my choice of its classic MCU days. But, with Marvel, Loki was my top favorite. I was obsessed, he was my first character muse I RP'd as, and my time writing as him and investing in the content made of him was very impactful (I don't really follow anything made from Ragnarok on, that's just me, no judgment to those that do enjoy). But his story is fucked up, too, and though it may go over some peoples heads, he did try, he was something more than just a petty, mischievous jerk (he really wasn't petty or jealous to the degree people make him out to be, he was the more balanced 'Odinson' before he went too far doing something that NEEDED to be done, and it led to a devastating truth). I could go on way too long about Loki, so, I'll just leave it there XD With MHA, it's Bakugo. Again, feel free to judge. I'm aware he is an asshole and was very much a bully and needs to be held accountable for that, and I will never excuse his roof-dive comment towards Deku. But I'm of the mind that, for one he's a teenager than can learn and has learned and is still learning from his faults. For two, he can be an ass but that is technically how he's learned to communicate and if people get to know them they realize it's just him being loud and rough to express his critiques, advice, compliments, etc. But most of all, it's his character complexity and growth. I adore him, and I'm not going to apologize for that.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom. Soulmate trope, I suppose! I'm not super versed enough to have a list to pick from, but I feel like this comes through a lot, and it's not always just romantic, though that can be appealing! Just the idea that there is someone out there that matches a character, whether it's to counter them, or to meet their energy. It could be enemies to allies, it could be best friends, it could be lovers, it could be a mix! But the idea of them being tied to one another, for better or worse, it just gets me!!

[vargassdottir]

=✮Green + Gold✮=

[MCU Loki x Amora]

CHAPTER ONE

=Masterlist=

Please see the above linked “Masterlist” for all warnings and disclaimers about the fic, thank you.

[Prelude] [Chapter Two]

The first night he really noticed her was quiet. Surprisingly perhaps, Loki rather liked it that way. He wasn’t one for the feasts and parties like his brother, though that’s not to say he didn’t enjoy a drink between companions time and again. Some nights he simply preferred the silence afforded in the surrounding of books, a cup of cold mead, and time to himself to think. Usually driven by the spite of Thor’s latest annoyance, or yet another moment in which his ape-like sibling proved yet another incompetence with his lack of tact and unwillingness to think beyond the moment or his next conquest (drink or women alike). That particular evenings frustration was at the fact that Thor and his warriors had nearly started a dispute with nobles from another realm, something that he in the end had to ease over with coin and quiet words after the fact, though he had no doubt that the oaf would call it ‘fear of angering the mighty Thor’ when no repercussions came.

Usually preferring the comfort of his own private rooms and collection of reading material, this night he felt the need for something new and perhaps a little out of field for him, a better distraction than any of his usual tomes. But instead of finding the library empty as it more often was this time in the evening, everyone else out in taverns or in their homes, upon entering the building he immediately heard humming.

It wasn’t overly loud, clearly they weren’t inconsiderate, but the silence in the hall packed with rows upon rows of books and scrolls of every shape, size and colour was usually so dense that even the slightest sound could sound like a hurricane. So Loki drifted between the shelves, closing in on the source, the tune light, catchy even, and likely the sort of thing someone would dance to if heard on instruments. It took longer than he expected, until suddenly there she was.

Of course he knew who she was, they weren’t strangers really. Amora had come to Asgard by invitation of one of the greatest sorceresses of the realms, Karnilla, and had studied under her and his mother Frigga both, moulded into a witch of high renown and infamous allure. She had lived amongst them for two thousand years by now, at best guess, though time grows harder to measure as it goes on. But beyond enjoying the chaos she had briefly caused between Thor and Sif at one time, years ago now, and the occasional polite small talk at feasts, Loki had never directly spoken to her alone. It wasn’t intentional, and surely they had plenty in common, but he was reserved in comparison to her bold nature, so they simply.. Drifted around one another.

She was bent slightly over a table in between two sets of shelves, an array of books laid out across its oak top in varying sizes lying open. Dressed in a relatively simple dark green dress that hung off her loosely, styled as an off the shoulders gown that shimmered gold when the skirt moved, and loose golden waves trailing down her back and hanging around her face like thick curtains obscuring her expression.

Loki wasn’t sure how long he stood there exactly, staring, but eventually he moved forward without declaration and simply greeted her with the statement:

“What a lovely tune.”

With that, her head darted upward, and despite all their other meetings in the years before, Loki felt the air momentarily sucked out of his lungs. It might be the most simple he had ever seen her, barely any makeup besides dark eyeliner, no fancy hair pins or jewels hanging around her neck, no dipping neckline down her breasts or countless rings and bracelets and her usually perfectly unblemished skin bore light freckles around her nose and cheeks. His magic tingled even to note that in comparison to her usual illusions, things he imagined likely made her all the more enchanting to her prey, weren’t present. So this was the real her, hm?

Her eyes no less like green, perhaps not as bright and shining, a little duller maybe? Like grass rather than emeralds. Stray hairs falling haphazardly over her face, not perfectly coiled in curls. Her nails barely above the pink, fingers stained with ink, without the usual claw-like and golden paint shape and shade they usually were.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, she was breathtaking. He rather preferred her like this, he thought, before she spoke and pushed him from his ponderings.

“Midgard creation, if you can believe it? Their taste grows better as the years go on, though I do miss Mozart. Wonderful music, terrible taste in wine.”

Not quite what he expected to hear, but he couldn’t disagree.

“I prefer the older tunes,” he found himself saying. “Scandinavian, around the time of our first visits.”

She chuckled at that, a melodic sound, before she responded. “I figured you might. I quite like them on occasion, but it’s all about the mood of the moment. Though I suppose their darker tones suit you well.” she explained with a growing smirk on her lips. An annoying one, Loki thought.

“Curious, though, to see you here.. Not quite enough adoring onlookers or patrons vying for your attention here, surely?” He snipped with a sly smile on his face. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so sharp, but it was his way, wit and sarcasm, the shield he held proudly that deflected anyone who’d ever dream of trying to push it aside.

The hardness behind the green eyes came forward then, and he briefly felt guilty, realising her remark wasn’t meant as a joke against him as he first thought.

“If all I was meant to be was a pretty face, then I’d be simpering with the rest of the pathetic courtiers this evening, wouldn't I? Especially considering my mass of ‘vying patrons’, my prince.” She spat the last word particularly venomously, like his favourite kind of snake was want to do, though her expression was as pretty as a painting, even that coy smirk was damn near perfect. The audacity of it.

He at least had the good manners to look apologetic, for a few seconds, before replying. “Forgive me.. That was unkind. I’m not in the kind mood suited for company, as you can tell.”

It was Amora’s turn then to feel a twinge of guilt. She could plainly see the regret twisted with frustration and the kind of built up rage that she recognised from her own reflection, only in his bright blue eyes compared to her jade ones. That kind of anger that boiled and grew like a tumour, monstrous and ready to consume everything is touched if it wasn’t released in small bouts of destruction to ease the heated sensation in the gut that churned like bad food until it had an out.

She wasn’t the kind of person that cared what others thought. Not of her, and certainly not of other people. But she couldn’t help her curiosity looking at the princeling, wanting to know what caused such a handsome face to be marred by so much unquelled ire. Fascinating.

Oh there was no denying he was handsome, to her mind, with those blue eyes that stared into your soul and sharp jaw, dark jet hair that spiked off a little at the ends. It used to be shorter, she remembered, but he’d begun growing it lately and it suited him. It would look better even longer though, Amora speculated. His own muted green shirt and black-brown leather vest, matching pants and boots alike all fit him quite tightly, leaving little to the imagination of his lean yet muscular structure or proud stature.

They fell into light conversation, the quips left in the past, sharing their reasoning for being in the library that night and their own quick tempers. Loki was surprised to learn of her own reasonings, a frustration with a fellow student of Karnilla (Lorelei, he later learned her name to be), and her obsession with his brother. Disgusting. Still an easy sense of companionship formed, the pair sharing knowledge of the literature in the hall as well as their various experiences with ‘short sighted’ companions.

It was strange, to have someone to talk to, as freely as they were willing to be at least, they both thought. The feeling of a kindred spirit briefly went through Amora’s mind, but she dismissed it quickly. No one was an equal, Karnilla had drilled it into her head, and she shouldn’t pretend that she’ll find one either. Even if it was in someone who actually had reason to be. So they kept it polite, bordering on the edges of their comfort zones, discussing magic and glamours till the night turned to dawn and silver light turned yellow as it dappled through the windows.

It wasn’t expected by either of them to meet again like this, to have another moment with the one who intrigued them and stole a portion of their thoughts from then on. But life finds a way, and at the edge of Asgard, a golden set of all seeing eyes crunched as his expression moved to smile, Heimdall had a soft spot for twists of fate after all.

—————