use-your-telescope

[use-your-telescope]

This is so cute! I love slice of life/domestic Loki fics 💚

hi there!! i was wondering if anyone would maybe want to write a soft domestic loki fic? .. like him learning how to live a quieter life with reader — maybe lots of little things like him struggling to cook a mortal breakfast but getting so proud when he gets it right, or helping reader with chores in his own chaotic way, or even just curling up together after a long day and him being surprisingly gentle and clingy basically just giving him, quiet love he never thought he’d have.

Quiet Havoc

loki x reader , ~2k words

The first time Loki tried to make breakfast, you found him staring at a pan of scrambled eggs that looked more like charred puzzle pieces than food.

He stood over the stove like it was an enemy he had sworn vengeance upon. Sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from sleep, his magic humming faintly in frustration.

“You know,” you teased, leaning against the doorway, “some mortals just… use a spatula. No sorcery needed.”

Loki shot you a look that would’ve been lethal if not for the faint flush creeping across his cheekbones. “The eggs refuse to obey.”

“They’re eggs, Loki. Not foot soldiers.”

He huffed, poking at them with all the grace of a prince wielding a butter knife instead of a blade. And yet, when he finally managed to slide the least-burnt portion onto a plate and present it to you with a hopeful raise of his brow, you swore you’d never seen him look prouder.

The taste wasn’t perfect,, more smoke than flavor, but you smiled through it anyway. He caught that, of course. His sharp eyes softened, and instead of the smug retort you expected, he simply murmured, “I will get it right. For you.”

It was strange, watching him learn this quiet rhythm. A god of mischief and war folding into something domestic, something human.

────୨ৎ────

Chores were another battlefield.

Laundry, for example. You’d asked him to help fold it once, and within minutes, the couch looked like a rainbow explosion of shirts, socks, and towels. Loki sat cross-legged in the middle of it, holding a fitted sheet like it was some cursed artifact.

“This thing defies logic,” he complained. “It mocks me.”

You tried to show him the folding method, but halfway through he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper near your ear. “I’m far more interested in how you look when you concentrate, love. Do you always bite your lip like that?”

Heat flushed through you instantly, and you swatted him with a balled-up sock. “Loki. Focus.”

He smirked. “I am focused.” His hand brushed yours as you smoothed the sheet together, deliberate and lingering. “Just not on laundry.”

You’d never admit it, but chores became a little more tolerable with him around,, chaotic, yes, but threaded with stolen touches and a gleam in his eyes that made you think he liked this far more than he let on.

────୨ৎ────

Evenings were your favorite.

After long days, whether full of errands or Loki’s quiet brooding,, he always ended up finding his way to you. At first, he was hesitant, hovering near the couch like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sink into this simplicity.

But now, he slid in beside you without hesitation. Draping himself against you, long limbs curled around your body, his head pressed to your shoulder as if you were his anchor.

Tonight was no different. The world outside your window was dimming into twilight, and Loki lay stretched along the couch with you half under him, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your arm.

“Strange,” he said quietly. “To find peace in this.”

You tilted your head. “Strange good or strange bad?”

He paused, then pressed a kiss just below your jaw, feather-light. “Strange that I ever thought I didn’t need it.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his voice. He so rarely dropped his armor, but when he did, it was devastating.

“Guess you’re stuck with me, then,” you teased softly, brushing your hand through his dark hair.

“Stuck,” he echoed, lips curving in a sly smile against your skin. His hand slid from your arm to your waist, squeezing lightly. “Such a mortal word. I prefer… bound. Claimed. Irrevocably entwined.”

You shivered, heat prickling where his breath fanned across your neck. “You make folding laundry sound scandalous.”

“Only when you’re the one folding it.” His tone dipped lower, velvet wrapping around each word. The gleam in his eyes shifted from mischief to something heavier, something that lingered.

You turned toward him, and his mouth found yours before you could reply. The kiss was slow, unhurried, but laced with a promise that curled warm and dangerous in your stomach.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his voice was a murmur. “Do you have any idea how impossible you’ve made it for me to go back? To solitude. To shadows. To anything less than this?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “Good. Then stay here, with me. Burnt eggs and all.”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pulled you impossibly closer. “Then eggs I shall master. For you.”

And as the night settled in, with Loki’s hand tangled in yours and his body warm against your side, you realized he already had. Not the eggs, not the laundry,, but this life. Quiet, messy, human. A life that, somehow, suited him perfectly.

[use-your-telescope]

first look at season two just dropped!

[use-your-telescope]

[use-your-telescope]

LITERALLY

[use-your-telescope]

[use-your-telescope]

Happy belated International Cat Day! (8/8)

[use-your-telescope]

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 35: I Could Turn the Page (On All This Second Guessing)

When Everything's Made to Be Broken Series (Archive of Our Own) | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist (Tumblr)

Summary: Though Loki disapproves, Theo meets up with Chris to hear what he has to say… but what Chris doesn’t realize is that Theo isn’t about to let him have the last word.

Contents: Worst Chris(™), relationship insecurities, Theo standing up for herself. No Loki in this chapter, but he’ll be back in the next one 😊

Word Count: 3,927

Author’s Note: (see end of chapter)

35. I Could Turn the Page (On All This Second Guessing)

Song: the mood i'm in / jsyk - the Maine

At first I couldn’t take the tension So here’s a second verse Please don’t take offense when Time it keeps on running out, Keeps on— Let’s go our separate ways It’s probably for the best and I could turn the page On all this second guessing  And I keep on running out, Keep on running, running, running…

The café was one of those upscale hidden gems that catered to celebrities and execs: discreet entrances tucked down side streets, filtered lighting that made it hard to see anyone beyond your table, and overpriced espresso that tasted like ash and bad decisions... ... Which, considering a bad decision was the reason Theo was there in the first place, was probably part of the point.

Even so, she arrived well before the agreed upon time. She wasn’t interested in the possibility of being seen walking in beside Chris, like this was some sort of reunion date. No, she wanted space. Control. The security of getting there first.

The hostess barely blinked when Theo requested a table with no sightline to the windows. Of course she didn’t; discretion was the currency of this place. With a professional smile, the woman led her along a hushed route past glossy marble counters and hushed conversations. Their path looped behind columns, skirts of curtains, and even an artfully placed indoor tree—an architectural sleight of hand that kept Theo from crossing into anyone’s line of vision. Finally, the hostess guided her into a booth tucked into the farthest corner, where the shadows were a touch deeper and the air seemed heavy with unspoken confessions.

The waitress appeared a few minutes later, calm and detached, as though Theo were just another patron instead of someone half the city would recognize in the right light. She didn’t blink when Theo ordered only a black coffee and paid immediately, her words brisk and clipped: she was meeting someone, but she wouldn’t be staying. The waitress only nodded. No questions. No lingering looks.

The staff didn’t stare, the walls were thick, and the booths were deep enough to hide in. Theo could see why this was the place whispered about as a sanctuary for breakups, business betrayals, and PR cleanups. It had the makings of a confessional booth, only with coffee and avocado toast instead of communion wine and unleavened bread.

She settled in with her back to the room, hood pulled low enough to shadow her silver hair, fingers curled tightly around the mug. The ceramic was hot, almost scalding, but she didn’t mind the sting against her palms. Better to focus on that than on the gnawing twist in her stomach. Caffeine by osmosis felt preferable to tasting it—the bitterness sat heavy, clinging to the tongue like her regret.

She didn’t look up when the familiar footsteps approached, though she felt the air shift around her. He slid into the booth across from her, sunglasses in hand—utterly unnecessary given the rain streaking down the windows outside. But then, fame had a way of making people wear armor even when there were no cameras.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” Chris said softly.

Theo lifted her cup, letting the steam curl around her face before answering. “You texted me less than five hours after we made eye contact for the first time in two months. Not very subtle.”

Chris exhaled through his nose, nodding. “Okay. Yeah. Fair.”

She let the silence stretch, an elastic pause that grew taut between them. Silence had always been his weakness; he filled it with charm, with jokes, with rehearsed lines. Now she wielded it against him, forcing him to squirm.

Finally, she set her cup down with a soft click. “So? Go ahead, say whatever it is you’ve rehearsed in the mirror.”

Chris hesitated, and she watched it—the flicker of indecision crossing his features as he shuffled through his masks. Which version of himself to offer her: the contrite ex? The wounded lover? The performer who never stopped performing, even offstage?

“I just…” He raked a hand through his styled hair. “I needed to apologize. For the way things ended.”

Theo tilted her head, voice flat. “You mean the voicemail?”

He winced, shoulders drawing tight. “Yeah.”

“An apology is a start,” she said, calm but cutting, “but it doesn’t make everything better.”

“I know. I owe you an explanation.”

She only arched an eyebrow, waiting.

“Up until the attack, I had no intention of ending things. I really liked you. You’re smart, funny, down to earth; I felt like I could be normal around you. I know we didn’t plan to walk the carpet together, but when we did, it made me realize that I could see more with you.”

He took a deep breath, eyes locking with Theo’s for a brief moment before he looked down at the table and sighed.

 “But then the attack—what happened there—it messed with my head. I saw you in that chaos and—God, you didn’t even hesitate. You were hurt and bleeding, but you didn’t even notice, you only cared about keeping everyone else safe. You were fearless, running into the line of fire while I was still trying to figure out where the exits were. And I realized—someday, you’ll go into a fight and you won’t come back out.” He looked down, fingers drumming restlessly against the table. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there waiting for the call that you were gone. I couldn’t lose you like that. Not without warning.”

“...So you left preemptively.” Theo’s gaze stayed steady, but her voice dropped a degree, cold and precise. “Neat little solution.”

“I thought it would be kinder to end things before they could get any more serious.”

“Kind doesn’t leave a voicemail,” she said, sharp and quiet.

Chris clenched his jaw, sunglasses forgotten on the table between them. “I was scared. You live a life where people don’t always come home, Theo. That’s not easy to love.”

“No,” she agreed, tone clipped. “But it’s my reality. And if you’d known me at all, you would’ve known that I don’t need someone to keep me safe. I need someone who doesn’t flinch when I bleed.”

He looked away then, jaw tight, eyes darting toward the rain-slicked window. Shame was an expression he wasn’t practiced at, which made it all the more surprising. Maybe—finally—he was realizing the impact of his actions.

“We weren’t serious, Chris; I knew that,” Theo said plainly. “We weren’t picking out curtains or naming future kids, and frankly, I didn’t want anything that deep.” She paused, breath steady but chest inexplicably tight. “But I still deserved more than a voicemail to end things. I pushed myself to the brink—beyond it. I gave everything I had to save lives, but you didn’t even wait until the blood dried to ditch me.”

Chris flinched, and Theo couldn’t help but find satisfaction in the reaction.

“I made myself sick from using magic to save people’s lives, but when I woke up in the middle of the night to throw up, the first thing I heard on my phone was your voice, telling me that you couldn’t handle me.” Her voice was steady, too steady, as though precision might keep her from splintering. “Not a call, not a visit... A fucking voicemail.”

The words hit like blows; she knew it, and by the twitch of his jaw, so did he.

“You know what the worst part is?” Her tone was cool, surgical, intentionally detached. She wasn’t about to let him see the anger that had long been festering beneath her skin, threatening to spill over. “I wasn’t even mad that you ended it. I already believed people always leave, and you were no different. No, the worst part was that the last time I saw you, you looked at me like I was something you didn’t recognize; like I was a ghost, or worse—something monstrous. Not just surprised I was alive—like you wished I hadn’t come back.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?“ Theo challenged, leaning in slightly, “because you left like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and you couldn’t even wait to see me in person to dump me—”

“—I didn’t leave because I stopped caring!” Chris interrupted, looking more and more hurt by the moment. “I left because I cared too much, and I didn’t think I was strong enough to watch you die someday.”

“No. You didn’t leave because you cared. If you cared, you would have told me to my face, not by copping out with a voicemail.” Theo’s voice was low and steady, her response a blade slipped between his ribs. She met his gaze fully, letting him see just how little space remained for him in her heart. “You left because you were afraid—afraid of what it meant to love someone who fights for other people, who might not come home. And instead of sitting with that, you walked away. You let it become my fault.”

Chris blinked, startled. “I never said it was your fault—”

“You didn’t have to,” she cut in, quick and sharp. “Your PR team did that for you. The story they spun? That I was reckless, that I couldn’t prioritize a ‘normal’ life, that I wasn’t grounded enough for someone like you.” She leaned forward, her voice a knife edged with venom. “Made me look like a time bomb you had the good sense to defuse. Headlines about how you ‘dodged a bullet,’ like I was the danger. You let your team rewrite history to make me look unstable while you posed on red carpets with that girl from the shampoo commercials like it was any other day.”

“I didn’t approve those—”

“But you didn’t stop them either.”

He was silent. For once, the performer had no script, no line to toss back. The pause dragged, and in it, guilt made his eyes look smaller—shrunk down, like the spotlight had finally burned him instead of gilded him.

“And you didn’t even wait,” Theo pressed on, her voice cool and clean as glass. “You were seen kissing her days after you broke up with me—”

“We weren’t together when that happened,” he snapped, a flash of temper breaking through the contrition. His tone was sharp, brittle, the edge of someone cornered.

“Didn’t say we were.” She leaned back, spine touching the plush booth as she crossed her arms, the picture of unbothered judgment. Her fingers dug lightly into her sleeves, grounding herself in the restraint it took not to sneer. “But it makes me think your claim that you wanted more with me is bullshit. Besides, you were photographed making out with her in Times Square while I was keeping all the bystanders from the line of fire—almost like you wanted me to see.”

The words landed, and Chris dragged both hands down his face as if he could scrape away the memory. “God. That was—look, I ended things with her after. You want to know why? Because I saw the headlines, and the photos, and I realized I was with someone who only wanted the version of me that smiled for cameras.”

Theo tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curving in something too sharp to be a smile. “How ironic,” she drawled, “because it sure seemed like the version of me smiling for the cameras was the only version of me that you wanted. You couldn’t stand the version of me that wasn’t bleeding quietly off-camera. I never fit your shiny, perfect narrative—the golden boy picked the sad, scarred girl, like some charity case.”

That one hit him. His eyes flickered, as if he’d actually never thought of it that way. He looked wounded, and for a heartbeat the old Theo might have softened, might have leaned into the old habit of patching up bruised egos. But she’d bled too much for him already. She didn’t care.

“Either way, you don’t get points for dumping someone who turned out to be worse than you,” she said, voice crisp as ice. “That’s not penance.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, the faintest tremor betraying him even as he tried to square his shoulders. “I know. I messed up.”

“You keep saying that,” she replied evenly, her eyes unblinking and locked on his. “Is that the new brand? ‘Handsome but performatively regretful?’”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, the familiar flicker of protest forming. But she cut him off with a flick of her hand, the gesture sharp as a blade slicing through his excuses.

“You don’t get to rewrite this, Chris,” Theo said, her voice low and unwavering. “You don’t get to bury the mess under apologies and hope I’ll nod and let it go.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the smell of burnt espresso and rain-soaked air drifting in every time the door opened somewhere beyond their little corner. Around them, muffled conversation and the clink of cutlery carried on, ordinary and oblivious. But at their booth, the world had shrunk to a quiet battlefield—him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and her, steady, a wall he couldn’t scale with charm or pretty words.

He swallowed hard, throat working as though the words scraped on the way out. “I’m trying to make things right.”

“Then start by fixing your damn PR team.” Theo replied without missing a beat.

“I don’t control them.”

“I have a publicist, Theo scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. “I know that’s bullshit. They do what you tell them to.”

“Then why didn’t you tell yours to fight back?”

“I had bigger shit to deal with than tabloids,” Theo shot back, “and no interest in fueling the fire.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And, despite everything, I still had enough respect for you to stay quiet.”

“And if I don’t stop them, then what?” His tone was sharp, ready to call her bluff. “You gonna threaten me?”

“No,” she said simply, not taking the bait. “Unlike you, I don’t coerce people into doing what I want. I have integrity.”

“So not a threat,” Chris tilted his head, a mocking note slipping into his response, “but a promise.”

“No. No promises.” Theo shook her head, silver hair catching the dim light from above. “But if you were really sorry—if you really cared—you’d stop hurting the person who, despite the way you treated her, has protected you from shadow creatures twice and never talked badly about you.”

“So what would you have me do? Tell them to suddenly sing your praises and paint me as the bad guy?” Chris let out a hollow laugh, though it rang shaky. “They’re my publicists, Theo. Their job is to make me look good.” He sat back, but the slouch in his posture betrayed him; his confidence was unraveling at the seams. “I thought you didn’t want the spotlight.”

“I don’t.” Her mouth curled into a bitter smile, humorless and sharp. “But I also didn’t ask to be crucified in it.”

His eyes narrowed, grasping for something to regain ground. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like the attention that came with dating me—”

“Actually, no! I really didn’t!” Theo snapped, her voice cutting through the muffled hum of the café. A couple booths over, someone’s silverware paused midair, but she didn’t care. “I almost didn’t go on a second date with you because I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with the circus, but my friend talked me into it. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have! Because ever since I went on that damn date, I’ve had your psycho fans in my Instagram DMs harassing me and threatening me, and the tabloids breathing down my neck. I’m a fucking doctor and an Avenger, but the only thing I’m known for at this point is being someone’s ex. It’s insulting!”

Chris leaned forward, hands braced on the table, his voice rough. “That’s not fair. I never asked anyone to harass you. I can’t control what fans do.”

“You don’t get to hide behind that excuse.” Theo’s tone was lethal in its calmness. “You might not control them, but you set the tone. And you sure as hell didn’t defend me when they came after me. Silence is permission, Chris. You let them carve me up so you’d emerge unscathed.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“—It’s exactly what you knew would happen.”

Then tendons in his neck shifted as he grit his teeth, but he had no rebuttal.

“While I’m at it,” Theo continued, each word precise, “you need to learn to own your mistakes instead of pinning them on everyone else. Stop cycling through dates and discarding them the moment you feel a negative emotion, and stop dragging their names through the mud to justify it. Frankly, you need to go to fucking therapy.”

Chris flinched as if she’d struck him. “That’s low.”

“No,” Theo said, leaning in, her voice dropping into a low snarl. “What you did to me was low. Therapy? That’s mercy. You need someone to hold a mirror to your face until you stop running from your own reflection. Because right now, all you know how to do is burn bridges and pose for the cameras in front of the ashes.”

His mouth opened, then closed again, like he couldn’t decide which defense to reach for. He settled on the weakest: “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”

Theo barked a short laugh, incredulous. “Pressure? You think I don’t know pressure? I hold lives in my hands every single day, Chris. I’ve literally bled myself dry keeping strangers alive. Your pressure is an unflattering photo and a headline. I don’t pity you.”

He recoiled, shame flickering across his features.

“You want to be forgiven, but you don’t want to change. That’s your problem. You want absolution without accountability. And it doesn’t work that way—not with me, not with anyone worth loving.”

Her voice steadied, almost eerily calm as she straightened in her seat. “Despite how you looked at me that night, I’m not a ghost. I’m still here. And I’m not afraid of being seen for who I am.” She met his gaze fully, cool and unflinching, pinning him in place. “Can you say the same?”

He was silent.

Not the comfortable kind, not the pause of someone listening. This was the hollow silence of someone who had finally run out of angles. His jaw worked, but no words came. He looked smaller across the booth now, his shoulders hunched, the bravado that carried him through red carpets and interviews crumbling under the weight of her steady, merciless gaze.

Theo stood, movement graceful and deliberate, gathering her coat from the seat beside her. Even the act of sliding her arms into the sleeves carried a finality, like she was armoring herself to leave him behind for good.

“I only came because I was curious to see what you had to say that warranted a conversation,” she said, her voice measured, calm in the way of someone who had already won. “Given you seemed more than happy to share significant information in a voicemail, I was curious about why now—months later—you wanted to talk.” She adjusted the coat collar, eyes never leaving his. “And I got my answer. You only reached out because you saw that I moved on, and you didn’t like it.”

Chris’s eyes flickered, panic breaking through his polished veneer. “That’s not true. I don’t care if you’ve moved on, I just—”

Theo cut him off with a tilt of her head, voice cool. “You care very much. You cared enough to text me within hours of seeing me. You cared enough to drag me here, hoping for absolution you didn’t earn. You didn’t come to apologize—you came to reassert control. To remind yourself that you still mattered to me.”

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—no, I just thought maybe we could…”

“What?” she asked, sharp and barbed. “Be friends? Pretend like you didn’t gut me with a voicemail? Pretend like you didn’t let the press paint me as reckless while you smiled for cameras with the next girl lined up? No, Chris. You didn’t want closure. You wanted reassurance. You wanted me to pat you on the back and tell you you’re still the good guy.”

Color rose in his cheeks, his voice rough. “That’s not fair—”

Theo’s expression hardened. “No. What you did to me wasn’t fair. What you’re doing right now isn’t fair. You only care about making yourself feel better, not about the harm you caused.”

Chris leaned forward, desperation creeping in. “Theo, please. I just—I’m not a bad guy.”

She gave him a look so steady it rooted him to the spot. “That’s not for you to decide.”

Her coat settled against her like a closing curtain as she rose fully.

“One last thing:” She glanced down at him, voice low, lethal in its clarity. “Don’t ever contact me again. Don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t speak to me. I’m not a prop in your media campaign. I’m a human being.”

For a heartbeat, he looked like he might argue, might reach for some final lifeline of charm or regret. But her gaze left no room for it.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked out—head high, steps measured, not once looking back. The soft thud of the door closing behind her was the only punctuation left to the conversation.

Outside, the rain was steady, cold and silver and yet refreshing. The air smelled like wet pavement and the faint tang of exhaust, mixed with the stench of a nearby dumpster; the consequences of leaving through a back exit. Still, Theo drew in a long breath, letting the cool dampness fill her lungs, grounding herself. The tension that had coiled tight in her chest through the entire conversation began to unspool, slow and deliberate, like a muscle finally released.

She pulled her hood back up, the fabric darkening where the rain struck it, silver strands of hair peeking free, and used just enough magic to make her unrecognizable: no facial scars, silver hair turned dark brown. With the disguise in place, she emerged from the alley and turned the corner, slipping past the cameras waiting for the next big story at the cafe’s main door. Her boots splashed lightly against the slick sidewalk as she moved, each step measured but not heavy, not dragging. 

Only after she passed did she realize, distantly, that her hands weren’t clenched anymore. The ache in her jaw from holding it tight had already begun to fade. Chris’s voice wasn’t playing in her head like a stuck record. His excuses, his half-hearted regrets—they stayed behind in that booth, sealed in the dim light and thick walls. Out here, the world was bigger, louder, freer.

A car hissed past, headlights carving through the mist. Somewhere down the block, a stranger laughed, the sound bright and ordinary. Theo let it wash over her and smiled to herself.

She hadn’t come here for closure; she hadn’t believed he was capable of giving her that. She came to see the truth with her own eyes… And she had. The truth wasn’t surprising, but it was enough. Enough to make leaving feel less like walking away and more like stepping forward.

Theo adjusted her coat around her, and kept walking.

She never looked back.

If I’ve been unapproachable And I seem too emotional Life has been a rollercoaster So it goes, I’ve been Avoiding confrontational Bullshit conversation, so If I forgot to say hello,  It’s just the mood I’m in…

---

Author's Note: Hi :) I’m a broken record, I know, but I would be remiss if I didn’t say that I appreciate y’all for reading and commenting (for the AO3 crew) and reblogging (for the tumblr crew) sharing your thoughts. I really, really enjoy reading the reactions and your theories! I discovered that WEMTBB broke 4,000 hits recently and I’m genuinely in awe—the fact that y’all are along on this journey with me is mind-blowing! I don’t have a big online presence in the fandom and I don’t really write one shots so I don’t have much reach online/much for folks to find me through, so it’s wild to me that there are so many people who have checked this fic out (even if they didn’t stick around).

So, good news and bad news. Good news: I have a good chunk of stuff pre-written that just needs edits as I head into the busy season for me at work, so I think I’ll be able to keep up with the consistent/weekly updates for the foreseeable future (though what day they’ll be posted is still TBD)! The bad news is there may still be a short break because unfortunately, my grandmother is in hospice and is expected to pass in the next few weeks. I can’t predict the future, so it’s not a guarantee that this will lead to a short break (it’s really timing dependent since it’s also about to be the busiest time of year for me at work), but I wanted to be upfront about it in case I disappear for an extra week. I’ll try to say something via tumblr if that’s the case, but yeah.

Anyways, we’ll be back to the mutually pining idiots slow burn next week, in part because they’re my coping mechanism for the world at the moment. 😅Hope y'all have had a good week, and that you have a great upcoming week!

[use-your-telescope]

The Life of Chuck (2024) dir. Mike Flanagan

[use-your-telescope]

i love these two

[use-your-telescope]

NED BROWER as NURSE JESSE VAN HORN THE PITT — 1.04, "10:00 AM"

[use-your-telescope]

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 34: Where My Head's Been

When Everything's Made to Be Broken Series (Archive of Our Own) | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist (Tumblr)

Summary: An unexpected message creates a dilemma and disagreement.

Contents: mutual pining idiots: insecurity, jealousy and hubris edition. 

Word Count: 3,233

Author’s Note: (see end of chapter)

34. Where My Head's Been

Song: the mood i'm in / jsyk - the Maine

Well I could give you words Tell you where my heads been Hit you where it hurts Say it with my chest and Time it keeps on running out, Keeps on running…

The night ended on the rooftop.

Manhattan surrounded them in every direction, skyscrapers and city lights glistening like jewels under a velvet sky. The hum of the city drifted up from the streets below, woven through with the occasional siren.

The rooftop bar smelled faintly of oak smoke and citrus peel. The firepit at the center sent out slow waves of heat, painting the group—those who’d gone to the gala, plus Julie—in shifting amber light. Ice clinked in glasses, the low murmur of conversation blending with soft jazz from the speakers.

Laughter and easy chatter rippled through the group, a testament to a night gone spectacularly right. They swapped stories about the announcement: Natasha swore she caught one board member nearly choke on his champagne when Theo mentioned the Vital Signs Initiative, while Sam reenacted the way a photographer had tripped over a floral arrangement in his hurry to get a shot of her and Loki emerging from backstage after the speech.

Theo found herself grinning as she told them about the run-in with Chris in the ballroom, the sharp-edged exchange delivered like the punchline to the joke that Chris was. The others wasted no time roasting him—Julie called him “a man-shaped red flag,” while Bucky muttered that Chris probably still got his hair cut at a strip mall barber. All the while, Theo rode the high of it all: the warmth of the firepit, the view of the skyline, the comfort of being surrounded by people who had her back.

Natasha and Bucky were wedged together at one end of the sectional, knees touching, both acting like their cozy proximity was completely normal. Thor and Jane had joined the rooftop crowd too, Thor’s massive hand easily spanning the small of Jane’s back as they leaned into each other with a quiet ease. Sam and Julie kept accidentally bumping knees and grinning about it, and across from them, Pepper was visibly looser after the night’s formalities, her legs draped over Tony’s lap while he absently traced patterns on her ankle. Loki was beside Theo, one arm draped along the back of the outdoor sectional and around her shoulders, stretching his long legs out in front of them like he’d been born in that seat. Steve leaned up against the bar, one leg crossed in front of the other, and listened to the back-and-forth with a look of quiet amusement.

Content, Theo sank deeper into the lounge chair, letting the soft cushions cradle her as she slid her heels off under the table. The cool night air slipped against her toes, carrying the faint tang of oak smoke from the firepit. A trace of someone else’s cologne still clung to her dress—an indistinct mix of spice and clean citrus from the endless cheek-kisses and polite embraces of the evening.

She let herself breathe it in, willing herself to stay in this moment, to let the warm hum of laughter and the skyline’s slow pulse be the only things on her mind. She wondered, distantly, what ripple her announcement was making beyond this rooftop—what the headlines were saying, whether the right people were listening—but she wasn’t ready to chase that thought too far.

Her fingers drifted toward her clutch, more out of idle habit than intent. But the moment she drew her phone free and the screen lit up… She froze.

Chris 1 new message

The name hit like a glass of ice water to the chest. The pleasant looseness in her limbs vanished, replaced by a tight coil low in her stomach. Just hours ago, she’d stood across from him at the gala and told him—in barely polite but unmistakable terms—that she had no interest in speaking to him. She’d seen the flicker of hurt in his face but hadn’t cared. He’d made his choice months ago.

Now…

“Can we talk? I owe you more than a voicemail.”

Her thumb hovered over the screen, her pulse thudding in her ears. That voicemail had been the last time she’d heard his voice, the hollow finality of it still etched in her memory: "I’ve been thinking - I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I realized what it really means to date an Avenger, and– it’s too much. I can’t do it... I’m sorry, Theo. Take care."

She hadn’t understood. Not when the news of their split had broken—not from her, but from his carefully worded PR statement about “differences in priorities.” It had made him sound reasonable, even noble, while she came off as a thrill-seeking liability. By the time she’d even read it, the talking heads had already picked it apart, dissecting her job, her choices, her worth. Tabloids dredged up years-old photos; op-eds speculated she’d “pushed him away”; strangers online declared they would’ve left her too. And through all of it, he’d said nothing—letting the story calcify without lifting a finger to defend her.

Months of that, and now—now—he wanted to talk?

It had to be because of seeing her tonight. But what good would it do? No explanation could rewind those months, erase that humiliation, or give her back the ground she’d lost.

“What is it?”

The question slid in low and smooth, pulling her out of the loop in her head. Loki’s voice—measured, but with a thread beneath it that caught her attention—came from just beside her. She glanced up to find him leaning comfortably against his chair, one arm draped along the back of hers, the firelight catching in his eyes.

“Chris just texted me,” she said, holding her phone just enough for the others to see.

“What did he say?” Wanda tilted her head, lips curling up in a cross between a sneer and a scoff.

Theo’s gaze returned to the glowing screen. “He wants to talk.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” Julie pointed out, eyes narrowing. “You already told him to take a hike tonight.”

“Honestly, I’m almost impressed by his nerve.” Natasha, ever cool, smirked slightly.

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms with a teasing grin. “Maybe he realized he looks like a clown and wants to hand you the balloon himself.”

“I trust you’re not considering giving him the satisfaction of a response?” Loki asked, his tone mild but his eyes sharp.

“I don’t know...” Theo sighed and swirled the ice in her glass. “I can’t think of anything he could say that would change how I feel, but… why reach out now?”

Julie snorted. “Because he saw you’ve moved on and he doesn’t like it. He’s going to try and string you along, girl.”

“Hard to string someone along who doesn’t have feelings for him,” Theo said. “If I agreed, it’d be purely for curiosity’s sake, and on my terms.”

“Your terms?” Loki’s brow arched. “If you grant him the meeting he requests, you’ve already yielded to his terms. You said you wished to move on. Was that false?”

Theo frowned. "I have moved on. That doesn't mean I'm not curious about what he wants, though."

“Could be he wants to clear his conscience,” Natasha tipped her glass toward Theo. “People love to dump their guilt so they can feel lighter.”

“What would be so important he couldn’t just leave a voicemail?” Theo muttered, before dryly adding: “God knows he’s done it before.”

Julie leaned forward, smirking. “Probably figured if he left another voicemail, you’d delete it and he’d be in the clear.”

Theo’s lips twitched with satisfaction. “Well, he was right about that. I would.”

Steve shrugged, then added his ever-reasonable voice in the mix:”At least now if he wants to make a case, it’s face-to-face or nothing.”

All the while, Loki’s gaze stayed fixed on Theo, calm and unreadable.

“Closure is an illusion,” he said quietly. “Do not give him the satisfaction of thinking you require it.”

Theo managed a faint smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation moved on—Julie describing a senator’s tie catching fire on a buffet candle—but Loki didn’t join in. His arm stayed draped along the back of her seat, close enough for her to feel the weight of his presence.

Theo tried to lose herself in the flow of conversation—in Julie’s vivid retelling of the senator’s flaming tie, in the crackle of the firepit, in the way Bucky and Natasha kept exchanging looks like there was a private joke stitched through every sentence. But her phone felt heavier than the glass in her hand, an anchor in her clutch. Every so often, her gaze drifted toward it, as though she might find the answer there.

She kept replaying the last time she’d heard his voice, kept trying to imagine what he might think could undo the months of silence and the mess he’d left in his wake. Part of her told her to ignore him—that the best revenge was a life lived loudly, and without him. Another part whispered that maybe, just maybe, hearing him stumble through an explanation would be satisfying in its own right.

Why had he ended things in a voicemail instead of looking her in the eye? Why had he stayed quiet when the headlines turned cruel? Maybe she wouldn’t get closure, but she could at least get the truth—or whatever version of it he dared to tell.

She told herself it wasn’t about him anymore, that curiosity wasn’t the same as caring. But after her third drink, the line between the two blurred. The laughter around her felt distant, muffled, like she was a beat off from the rhythm. And in that small, quiet space between the jokes and the fire’s hiss, the question slipped in again, sharper now…

What harm could one conversation really do?

As the others laughed loud enough to mask the sound of her phone unlocking, Theo slipped it out again. Her thumbs hovered, then typed:

Fine. Tomorrow. One-on-one. Someplace private, where paps can’t see.

Before she could second-guess herself, she sent it.

No one seemed to notice. Pepper was mid-story about the world’s most unhelpful hotel concierge, Sam was mock-heckling her, Julie was doubled over in silent laughter, and Thor was clinking his glass with Jane’s in some private toast. The firelight danced over smiles and half-empty glasses, the air threaded with warmth and ease.

But beside her, Loki had gone still. His arm was no longer resting behind her shoulders, the space where he’d been a moment ago now cool against her back. He didn’t look away, didn’t look irritated; just unreadable, his expression smoothed into something measured and remote, as though a door had closed without a sound. The others kept laughing, unaware that anything had shifted at all.

Theo put her phone away and took another sip of her drink, the firepit’s heat suddenly feeling very far away. 

I don’t wish you the worst Of all of my intentions Just don’t think you’re worth A moment of attention Find it keeps on running out,  keeps on running, running, running…

Theo noticed the moment Loki slipped away: vanishing into the shadows, glass left on the table without a word, the subtle scrape of his chair was swallowed by the rooftop’s murmur. 

Around her, the laughter and easy chatter continued, mostly undisturbed. Natasha and Bucky exchanged a few quiet words, their heads close as if sharing secrets; Julie was mid-story with Sam, animated and grinning, while Pepper leaned comfortably into Tony’s side, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh. Only Thor’s eyes flicked toward Loki’s retreat, narrowing slightly with a crease of concern, before he shifted his weight and placed a steadying hand on the small of Jane’s back. The rest of the group seemed oblivious to the tension that had just slipped away with Loki.

Theo initially stood up just to stretch her legs, but her feet carried her toward the far edge of the rooftop, where the glow of the city dimmed and the noise softened to a low rush of wind. 

She told herself she wasn’t chasing him. 

The lie didn’t even survive the first step.

He leaned against the railing, profile lit by the red blink of an aircraft beacon in the distance. The night breeze tugged lightly at his hair, teasing strands loose, while the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice wrapped in something cooler—wafted toward her. His posture was composed, effortless, as if he were simply admiring the view. But she knew better.

“You always disappear this quietly,” she asked as she approached, her bare feet muted against the smooth flooring, “or just when you’re brooding?”

That earned her a glance—sharp, assessing. His hand tightened imperceptibly on the railing, knuckles blanching. “I wasn’t aware I required an escort.”

“You don’t,” she said, stepping up beside him, the metal railing cool and steady beneath her palm as she mirrored his stance. “But you left like the table offended you.”

“It wasn’t the table,” he said dryly.

Theo folded her arms, the fabric of her dress stretching across her chest. “If this is about the text—”

“What else might it be?” His voice dropped low, carrying an edge that sliced through the night air. “You asked for my counsel, then ignored it within the hour.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. You just gave it.”

“You made the matter public before the group. That invites comment.”

“Fine,” she scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “You don’t like my choice. But it’s my life, Loki.”

He turned fully now, the subtle shift in his stance drawing her gaze. The scent of his cologne deepened, a dark spice mingling with something cool and sharp as he closed the space between them by a fraction. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m attempting to protect someone who’s too stubborn to see a trap when it’s baited.”

Theo’s chin lifted, almost brushing his. A stray strand of hair, loosened by the wind, caught on his shoulder before she brushed it away, fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt. 

“I see the trap. I know how to dismantle it.”

“You dismantle a snare by going around it, not into it.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s a conversation, not a mission,” she groaned, exhaling sharply.

“That,” he murmured, leaning closer until the heat of his words cut through the cool air, “is precisely the problem—it’s far more dangerous.”

She huffed a short, humorless laugh, the sound barely more than a breath. “You think Chris is dangerous to me?”

“I think your pride is,” he replied, eyes flicking down to her mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

“Wow,” she drawled, arching a brow at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’ve already bested him once,” Loki said, voice low and even. “Why give him another chance to wound you?”

“I can handle Chris,” Theo said, voice firm. “If he tries anything—”

“If?” The single word was sharp as glass. “You think he has reached out from some place of good faith? You know better—”

“—That’s exactly why I’m not worried,” she shot back, eyes flashing. “If Chris tries anything—verbal, emotional, whatever—you know damn well I can put him in his place. Easily.”

“You seem confident in that,” he said, not looking at her now, gaze fixed on some far point beyond the skyline.

“I am confident. Or did you forget the part where I told him off at the gala? Because that didn’t exactly end with me running off in tears.”

Loki’s mouth curved, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You mistake the cause for my concern.”

“Then what is it?” she pressed, stepping closer until the faint warmth of their bodies brushed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just don’t like that I’m curious enough to hear him out.”

“I think you are allowing curiosity to drag you back into the mire of disrespect and manipulation.”

“Or maybe I’m taking control of how things ended,” Theo said firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. She took a step closer, the space between them charged and electric. “Maybe I want to hear what he has to say, look him in the eye, and walk away knowing there’s nothing left unsaid.”

“Closure,” Loki said, disdain curling the syllables like smoke, “a fantasy mortals chase to justify reopening old wounds.”

Her jaw tightened, muscles straining beneath pale skin. “Or maybe I just don’t like unfinished business.”

“Or perhaps,” he countered, voice low and dangerous, “you are foolish enough to believe you’re the exception to the rule.”

The barb landed harder than she wanted to admit. She swallowed it down, dry throat tightening. “Believe what you want. I’m meeting him tomorrow. On my terms.”

“On his invitation,” Loki said, voice cool but eyes holding hers steady. “Which means his terms.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never accepted an invite where you’ve dictated more favorable terms,” she challenged, voice dropping to a near whisper.

He matched her shift forward, leaving only inches between them. She could see the subtle pull of tendons in his hands as he curled his fingers into fists at his sides, nails pressing into his palms just enough to betray his restraint. “You think you’ll walk away unscathed?”

“I know I will.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“And when you don’t?”

She didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll face the consequences.”

Loki’s gaze dropped for a moment, his jaw tightening imperceptibly as if swallowing back something fierce. His shoulders squared as though bracing against a weight only he could feel, but he said nothing. The air around him thickened, a subtle tension radiating from his still form—frustration held just beneath the surface, tempered only by his control. His fingers clenched lightly at his sides, betraying a restlessness that words refused to express.

The silence between them stretched, full of things unsaid—things she suspected had nothing to do with Chris at all.

Eventually, he exhaled, slow and heavy, the breath dissipating into the night like a whispered warning.

“You will do as you wish,” His mouth curved; not in amusement, but in something darker, something edged with warning. “I am not here to leash you.”

“Glad we agree on that,” she said, though her tone made it clear it wasn’t a victory.

“But—” He turned his head toward her, eyes catching the faint rooftop light, glinting with a mixture of care and challenge. “If you come away wounded, do not come crying to me. I warned you what would happen.”

“Don’t worry,” Theo’s jaw tightened, but she held his gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

That earned her a flicker of something in his expression—annoyance, amusement, she couldn’t tell.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Loki pushed off the railing, straightening to his full height. The sharp click of his shoes against the decking punctuated the silence. He didn’t answer, but the quiet between them was thick as they walked back toward the firelight, both knowing the argument wasn’t finished…

… Just postponed.

Hopefully this wasn’t a mistake.

If I've been unapproachable Or I seem too emotional Life has been a rollercoaster So it goes, I've been Avoiding confrontational Bullshit conversations, so If I forgot to say hello It's just the mood I'm in

---

Author’s Note: So I may need to pick a new posting day. TLDR is my husband’s work schedule changed and now we have the weekends off together, which is great! Except now we’re busy doing things on the days I’d normally be wrapping up edits and posting (I literally finished editing this chapter while in a stadium watching a Major league soccer game with my husband, my SIL,  and her husband) 💀 it’s also about to get busy with start of the school year (I work in education) so I may need to adapt!

Regardless, I will keep y’all posted. For now, plan on the next chapter coming sometime next weekend (August 16-17).

As always, thank you thank you THANK YOU for reading and sharing thoughts/reactions/etc! I may not always reply right away but I truly am so grateful that y’all indulge my madness.

[use-your-telescope]

Hi! Today is my birthday and you can congratulate me with a symbolic repost of my art! I hope this day is as good for you as it is for me >////<

You can also support me with a tip here or here <3

[use-your-telescope]

No rizz, just text posts

[use-your-telescope]

i love finding out what degrees my mutuals have. like what the fuck do you mean you do law? you’re a doctor who blog

[use-your-telescope]