The Academy[A loki x OC fanfiction}

The week passed in a blur of exhaustion and relentless focus for Ashlynn. She withdrew from almost everyone—shutting out the rest of the Avengers, the kids, and even Loki. The once lively atmosphere of the Academy dimmed under the weight of her absence, her silence felt like a void that no one dared to breach.

Wanda and Strange were the only ones she allowed near her. They didn't push her for answers, didn't question the walls she'd built around herself. They were simply there, a quiet presence of comfort and understanding amidst the chaos that raged inside her.

Wanda often sat nearby, her hands resting gently on Ashlynn's shoulders or her back, her magic offering a calming energy that seeped into Ashlynn's frayed nerves.

One evening, as Ashlynn scribbled furiously on yet another chart, Wanda sat beside her. The hum of her magic wove around them like a gentle, invisible thread, a silent offering of support.

"You don't have to talk, Ash," Wanda whispered softly. "Just let me be here with you."

Ashlynn didn't respond, but her tense shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Wanda's magic, her presence, were the only things that could offer her a brief respite from the storm inside her mind.

Strange, meanwhile, hovered nearby, his presence quiet but deliberate. His sharp eyes watched over Ashlynn like a guardian, always ready to step in when needed. He never forced her to stop, never asked for explanations. Instead, he offered advice when her magic faltered or conjured spells to stabilize her when it all felt like it would collapse.

One night, after a particularly brutal vision left Ashlynn trembling, Strange approached her cautiously.

"Enough for now, Ash. You're running yourself into the ground," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Ashlynn shook her head, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. "I can't stop. I can't rest. If I do, we'll lose. They'll all—" Her voice cracked, and she turned away, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Strange didn't try to force words of comfort or reassurance. Instead, he conjured a warm blanket and draped it gently over her shoulders. He didn't speak further. He simply sat beside her, his silence a quiet anchor while she let the tears fall.

Wanda, seeing Ashlynn's breaking point approaching, joined them. She knelt beside Ashlynn, her gaze soft but filled with quiet strength.

"You don't have to carry this alone, Ash," Wanda said gently. "Let us help, even if it's just by being here."

Ashlynn wiped her face with trembling hands, but for the first time that week, she didn't push them away. She leaned into their presence, if only a little, as the weight of her emotions began to spill over.

Days blurred together as the three of them continued working late into the night. Ashlynn's mind map on the whiteboard grew larger and more intricate, filled with connections, theories, and fragments from her visions. It was a mess of chaotic scribbles—each line, each note, pulling her deeper into the mystery of the future she feared.

Wanda would bring her food, though more often than not, Ashlynn barely touched it. Strange kept a watchful eye on her magic, quietly reinforcing her wards or casting protective sigils to ensure she didn't burn out entirely. Despite their care, it was clear Ashlynn was running on fumes.

One evening, Wanda walked in to find Ashlynn staring blankly at the board, her cane leaning precariously against the wall. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the desk, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Ash," Wanda said softly, stepping closer as though Ashlynn were a wounded animal. "You've done enough for tonight. Please, sit down. Rest."

Ashlynn didn't move, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. "It's not enough. I haven't connected it all yet. If I stop now, I'll lose it. I'll—" Her voice cracked, and Wanda quickly closed the distance, taking her hand gently.