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ancientwastedlores · 6 days
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Getaway Car [T.Swift-inspired LOKI Fic]
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Ask: I am OBSESSED with your stories <3 <3 <3 could you write a Getaway Car themes fic about Loki and reader when it's them against the Avengers for some reasons, they get away together and reader thinks Loki will betray them so they betray him first? All angst and pain (. )(. ) thx <3 <3 <3
Note: HELLO, I know it's v late and been a while. But I heard Taylor's new album, and the need to write awakened. Thought I'd revisit my old requests for some inspo and found this one I've been wanting to do for a while. Hope you like it! And leave me your TTPD requests as well <3
WORD COUNT: 2756
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Getaway Car
I’m in a getaway car I left you at the motel bar Took the money in the bag and stole the keys  That was the last time you ever saw me… 
Partners in crime. Brothers in arms. That’s how the Avengers saw you and Loki, forever up to some mischief together. The way you both shared one mind was insane, and while Tony was glad it gave you a battle advantage, that brilliance was too often used for useless pranks around the facility, tiring out Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner the most. 
So what? They were harmless. These were ‘morale boosting’ and ‘team building’ activities, as per you. If anything, it brought the team closer together. And your pranks were your way of keeping the Avengers always alert and ready for danger. You had endless justifications. 
‘When do the excuses end?’ Tony once asked you.  ‘When do Earth’s mighty Avengers stop screaming about grasshoppers in their pancakes? It’s a protein-rich breakfast.’ 
Meanwhile, Loki never scrambled for a justification. He did things because he wanted to, and the chiding and complaining only encouraged him. Together, you made life hell for villains and heroes alike. You and Loki were the first response to an attack because of the way you could significantly weaken the enemy's psyche, prepping them to be an easy kill for the rest of the Avengers. 
You made a good team. A powerful one. And while your pranks kept things light, the Avengers were not unaware that if you decided to turn against them, you would succeed in wiping them out. 
___________________________________________
You and Loki weren’t the type for meetings, which made things easy for Tony that evening. In the bi-monthly meetup in his grand tower, he brought up a subject he’d been mulling over for quite some time. 
‘Do we have any reason to suspect they are plotting something against us?’ Steve asked. 
‘We don’t want to assume the wrong thing and risk actually inspiring them.’ Natasha said. 
‘You see, there’s the problem!’ Tony barked, ‘Why are we so afraid of them? They’re supposed to be on our side, dependable and loyal. Instead we’re afraid of pissing them off!?’
‘What are you saying exactly, Tony?’ Bruce asked. 
Tony sighed frustratedly and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t know. I just never want to be in a situation where we’re compromised from the inside. They’re too close to each other, and they know things we do not. I don’t like that.’ 
‘Fine. We’ll give them other tasks to keep them occupied separately,’ Natasha suggested. 
‘Like it’s school?’ Bruce said. 
‘I truly think Y/N was far more focused before Loki came along.’ Tony said. 'She was responsible. Tame.'
‘We’re starting to sound like parents, ’ Natasha said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you’re worried, we’ll occupy her in the lab and him in training facilities.’ 
Tony thought this was a good idea.   ___________________________________________
The next morning, at breakfast, all the Avengers received an agenda sheet. It was placed on their seat at the dining table, and you were taken aback. 
‘Since when do we have a timetable?’ you asked. 
‘Since I saw things slacking around here,’ Tony declared. ‘We’ve got new trainees, new equipment, and new space stuff to unpack, and we’re doing nothing.’ 
‘You mean Loki and I are doing nothing.’ 
‘If the shoe fits,’ Tony said. 
The agenda was clearly made for you, and the rest of the team was in on it. You looked through your sheet - which honestly wasn’t that bad. You just didn’t like being taken by surprise. Mornings in the lab testing Tony’s “space stuff.” Afternoons running any one of the Avengers’ many charity initiatives - education, rehab, food drives, what have you. And evenings pulling apart and examining weapons scavenged from aliens kindly brought to you by either Carol Danvers or Gamora. 
And then you picked up Loki’s (who was sleeping late as usual). Mornings in the training facility training new recruits. Afternoons doing weapons testing with Tony. And evenings at any of the charity drives. 
This was deliberate. You couldn’t fathom why the Avengers would play such games, but you weren’t about to be taken for a ride.  ___________________________________________
Later in the morning, when Loki finally woke from his prolonged slumber, you told him about Tony’s passive-aggressive comment and the new agenda sheets. His green eyes flickered with the same spark of rebellion that mirrored your thoughts. 
"Why the sudden change, you think?" Loki questioned. 
"Control," you muttered, piecing the agenda with the prior night's conversations you had eavesdropped on through the vents—a risky yet fruitful habit. "They fear us, Loki. They're splitting us up, weakening our position."
Loki's smirk was as sly as ever, an idea brewing in the back of his mind. As he leaned closer, the proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you charged with a dangerous excitement.
"Then perhaps, my dear..." His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, his breath a warm caress against your ear. "...it's time we teach them the folly of their paranoia."
The words, scandalous and provocative, ignited something within you. Your heart thudded violently in your chest, a wild drumbeat echoing in the hollow of your ribs. It was the thrill of the forbidden, the allure of stepping into the shadows with Loki by your side, not just as a partner in crime but as a co-conspirator in a game most perilous.
His eyes locked onto yours, green fires that burned with mischief and an unspoken promise of chaos. It was an unholy proposal, stepping over a line you knew well but had never dared to cross before. And yet, as your heart raced and your thoughts spun, you realized that the decision had already been made in that fleeting heartbeat.
"Yes," you breathed out, the word less a reply and more a surrender to the exhilarating unknown. "Let's make them regret ever doubting us."
With that, your fate was sealed. 
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Under the guise of your newly assigned tasks, you and Loki meticulously orchestrated your daring plan. Each task provided unique opportunities to prepare for the heist without arousing suspicion among the other Avengers.
In the mornings, Loki was stationed at the training facility, instructing new recruits in the art of combat and deception. Utilizing his godly charisma and depth of experience, he subtly wove lessons on unpredictability and misdirection into his training, skills that would prove essential in the upcoming heist. While training these recruits, Loki also discreetly surveyed the facility's layout and security details, noting any potential vulnerabilities.
In the afternoons, his task shifted to weapons testing with Tony. These sessions, fraught with the clang of metal and the buzz of new technology, provided Loki with the perfect cover to engage Tony in technical discussions, subtly extracting information about the latest security updates and the locations of key research projects, including the cloaking device. Loki used his wit to keep Tony focused on the tasks at hand, ensuring his own activities went unnoticed.
Evenings saw Loki participating in various charity drives. These engagements offered him a public face of benevolence; all the while, he used these outings to establish alibis and build trust within the community and among his team, masking his true intentions under the guise of philanthropy.
Your mornings were spent in Tony’s lab, ostensibly testing new equipment designated aptly as “space stuff.” This task was critical because it allowed you direct access to some of the most advanced technology within the Avengers’ arsenal. While your official task was to test and report on these devices, you utilized this time to familiarize yourself with the lab’s security systems and to map out a discreet path to the prototype device. Your expertise in technology helped you to handle the equipment convincingly, all while preparing for the eventual theft.
Just like Loki, you used your time at the afternoon charity drives to make connections with community members and the other Avengers, enhancing your image as a dedicated member. This wasn’t a farce - you did care about the community. But right now, you had an underlying feeling of anger and hurt that the Avengers you gave your life to were doubting your intentions. So, you networked and built connections that could be useful for creating diversions or obtaining information indirectly related to the Avengers’ operational security.
The evenings were dedicated to examining and dismantling alien weaponry, and this time was invaluable not only for understanding potential alien tech that could be repurposed to aid in your escape but also for ensuring you were updated on the latest extraterrestrial technologies that might impact your plan. ___________________________________________
Days turned into weeks. You and Loki could only ever meet at night, and though you expected a whole day of events to make you too tired to plan a heist, you were actually excited. These secret meetings were charged with an electric anticipation that both thrilled and unnerved you. What started as a time to go over your respective findings turned into something far more intimate. As you poured over maps and schematics, your discussions often went into other things. Your pasts, your stories, your motives for joining the Avengers… everything you both usually kept hidden under bravado or mischief.
Loki’s usual façade of indifference was replaced by a passionate intensity about your joint mission. It was during one of these evenings, while reviewing security layouts, that he looked up from the papers, his gaze piercing. “You know, in all my years of schemes and conquests,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble, “I’ve never felt quite as... exhilarated as I do now, planning this with you.”
These words struck a chord within you, igniting a warmth that spread through your chest. 
Nights passed… you sat close to each other, naturally relaxing into each other. Soon, you moved the meetings from the facility terrace to each other’s bedrooms, comfortably laying in bed and discussing everything and nothing. 
“I’m the only kid in my family to get a job’ you once revealed. ‘And now I feel like their lives all depend on me.’ 
It’s true that you were more focused and serious before Loki came in. But that was because you never allowed yourself to do anything else but meet the expectations of your family. Loki was a breath of fresh air. The child you wished you could be for once. 
You didn’t have to explain all that to him. After you spilled your secret, Loki pulled you closer to him and stroked your head softly as you fell asleep. As you drifted off in his safe and warm embrace, you thanked Tony for his harsh comments. Were it not for him, you and Loki might never have bonded this way. 
But a day after that fact occurred to you, your mind began to wander. Was this love destined, or was it just something that happened due to an unfavorable circumstance? 
Did he realize he was in danger? Were you his escape plan?
With this deepening connection came a vulnerability that was new to both of you. The fear of betrayal, so ingrained in both your natures, loomed large as the day of the heist approached. Could you truly trust Loki with your heart, just as you were trusting him with your life? 
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The night before the heist, as you both sat back after hours of meticulous planning, Loki turned to you with a seriousness that was rare for him. “No matter what happens,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “I want you to know that I... I value this. Us. More than I thought possible.”
His admission was a confession, and in the dim light of your secluded meeting spot, you allowed yourself a moment to truly look at him—not as the God of Mischief or an Avenger, but as a man who had unexpectedly become so much more. The stakes were higher now. 
Could this connection you created in the night - in the seclusion of the terrace and the safe confines of your bedroom - last in daylight? 
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4 PM. 
Your heart hammered as you bypassed the final security protocols and laid your hands on the prototype device, its field of light flickering with the promise of freedom. With the device secured, you slipped away to meet Loki at the designated rendezvous point, ready to disappear. As per today’s schedule, the Avengers were all at a school for at-risk youths, so it would be hours before anybody even realized what had happened. 
As you ran, the back of the backpack hitting you with every step, you felt a sense of dread in your stomach. Why didn’t this feel exhilarating? Why didn’t it feel freeing? 
You reached the entrance and saw Loki in your getaway car - a dark green sports Jaguar with the top town. The feeling of unease did not rest when you saw his face. The plan had gone too smoothly. Was it all too convenient? 
Your own thoughts a traitor to you, your heart sank as you opened those doors and jumped into his car. He put his lips to yours in absolute delight, barely able to stop smiling as he planted kiss after kiss on your face. 
"Are you with me, truly?" you found yourself asking, voice edged with a fear you hated to admit.
Loki's expression softened, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Always," he reassured. 
The escape was a blur—for a moment, you forgot your reservations and reveled in the thrill of the wind in your hair. It was so romantic. So powerful. As night closed in and you left the sparkling city, the car drove into the darkness, but your heart was never lighter. His hand was on your thigh, and the music in your mind swelled as you imagined a whole new life with him. You were his savior, and he was yours. 
But the high soon crashed. 
As you reached the motel you decided to spend the night at, you looked over at him, and your heart sank again. The love was only alive in safe spaces. In comfortable places where it was nobody else’s business. 
You got out of the car and checked into your room - cash only. The room was nothing grand - it didn’t have to be. It would suffice until your contact made you fake passports, and you could get the hell out of the country. 
Loki did suggest simply teleporting the pair of you to Asgard, but that would hardly be a safe place to hide. And besides… why would he make such a ridiculous suggestion? Because he expected it to be shut down? Was your plan - your dream - to run away to somewhere in Asia and live a simple life actually his plot all along? And which god would agree to a simple life? Was it a ploy to make you feel safe before he betrayed you and left with the cloaking device? 
Questions upon questions filled your head. You weren’t sure if you were being your own worst enemy, so you decided to sleep on it. Loki asked if you wanted to get a drink at the motel bar, but you just wanted to creep under the covers and sleep the adrenaline off. He didn’t protest - he wanted you to be comfortable. 
It only made you more paranoid. Why didn’t he care enough to insist on a celebratory drink? Was he going to take this time to plot his escape? 
If betrayal were inevitable, you’d strike first. 
As soon as you heard the door click shut, you leaped out of bed and got dressed. You grabbed the bag with the device and the car keys and ran to the door. Then you paused… if you left right now, Loki wouldn’t stop looking for you. And nowhere on earth would be safe from a god. 
With a heavy heart, you called the Avengers facility from the motel landline. 
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You watched from the shadows as Loki drank his whiskey all alone. Your heart ached as you turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Maybe it wasn’t too late… maybe you could grab him from the motel bar, drag him to the car, and keep running. 
Those hopes were dashed when you saw the Iron Suit’s unmistakable lights draw closer to the motel. For a moment you looked back at Loki to mouth a silent apology. He managed to lock eyes with you for a split second, confused and hurt, before the roof crashed in on him. 
Nothing good starts in a getaway car. 
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I hope this is similar to what you wanted <3
Feel free to leave requests here, and you can find my Masterlist here <3
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ancientwastedlores · 6 months
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Taylor Swift Inspired Loki fics - Requests Open
Just watched the Eras Tour movie and I am heavy in my T.S feels. Hit me with those fic requests!
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ancientwastedlores · 7 months
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Hello any chance you could write some comfort for the reader with Tom hiddleston, I'm goin through a rough patch n am in desperate need for some comfort I broke my arm not so long ago. Could it be something like the reader isn't sleeping from nightmares, really anxious, and has a broken arm like me n tom just takes care of them. Please
A/N: I'm so sorry to hear about your arm! I hope you get better soon and that this fic gives you a bit of comfort <3
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Brewed with Love
The rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain against the windows of your London flat provided a soft backdrop to your restless thoughts. It had been a trying few weeks: a broken arm, nights stolen by nightmares, and an insistent cloud of anxiety that never seemed to part. The added worry of your coffee-cum-bookshop made your heart race even more. The thought of it being closed, letting down your regular customers, and losing out on business weighed heavily on your mind.
"I'll be fine," you'd assured Tom, "I can run it with one arm. I've read up on multitasking."
Tom had gently protested, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Love, you need to rest. You can't push yourself right now."
You sighed, frustrated, not with him but with your own vulnerability. "That shop is my dream, Tom. And right now, it feels like it's slipping away."
He kissed your forehead, pulling you close to his chest. “I know how much it means to you. But you’re more important. We have to ensure you’re alright first. Your store needs you to be healthy."
Annoyingly, he made a lot of sense. It would only hurt the store if you were unwell and trying to run it at half capacity.
Still... you couldn't shake the anxiety. The only consolation seemed to be Tom's utmost devotion to you as you recovered. He read to you, fed you, and even helped you bathe despite all your protests. It helped, but it didn't completely eradicate the unease.
"I can't shake off the worry," you admitted as Tom fed you with his hands. He smiled and wiped a grain of rice from the corner of your mouth.
"I know, darling. Which is why I have a solution."
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The next morning, you were surprised to find yourself in your shop, seated comfortably in a corner with a cushion supporting your injured arm. The familiar scent of coffee beans and the comforting quiet of the surrounding books provided a balm to your frazzled nerves.
Tom emerged from the back, donning your store’s apron, which was clearly two sizes too small. He looked adorably out of place with a faux serious expression. “Welcome to the Good Omens Coffee and Book Haven! How may I assist you today?"
A chuckle escaped your lips, the first genuine one in days. “You’re going to run the store?"
He struck a dramatic pose. "For the next two days, you can consider me your top barista and book-recommender."
You grinned, taking in his earnest yet comical appearance. “You do realize you have to remember the difference between a latte and a cappuccino, right?"
“I’ve got a secret weapon," he said, pulling out a cheat sheet with coffee recipes scribbled down. "I'm prepared."
The day unfolded with warmth and laughter as you watched Tom interact with customers - some star-struck, others amused by his novice barista skills. Nevertheless, they were happy to have something made by Tom Hiddleston himself, and word got around London that the Loki actor was pouring coffee for the patrons of Good Omens Coffee and Book Haven.
Through it all, your heart swelled with gratitude and love. The weight of your worries seemed to lighten, replaced with the warmth of Tom's gesture.
Your shop was more than just a business; it was an extension of you. And Tom, in his own endearing way, had shown you that dreams didn't have to be faced alone. They could be shared, cherished, and pursued together, no matter the circumstances.
The rain outside continued, but inside, amidst the aroma of fresh coffee and the rustle of book pages, you found a world of warmth, love, and shared dreams.
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I hope this brings you comfort!
Feel free to leave requests here and you can find my Masterlist here <3
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ancientwastedlores · 7 months
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Hi can you do the I Can See You from SNTV? The scenario would be like Loki and the reader being in the same mission and secretly liking each other but they can't. THANK U IN ADVANCE🫶
Done!
I Can See You (Loki x Reader)
I hope you like it, and thank you so much, this was a lot of fun to write! <3
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ancientwastedlores · 7 months
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I Can See You!
ASK: Hi can you do the I Can See You from SNTV? The scenario would be like Loki and the reader being in the same mission and secretly liking each other but they can't. THANK U IN ADVANCE🫶
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A/N: It's been a while since FREED BY FATE, which I am thrilled to say did much better than I was expecting. Thank you for continuing to read my stuff, guys :') And thank you for more asks! I hope you enjoy <3
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I Can See You
Under the cloak of the New Moon, the Avengers compound hummed with an eerie energy. Asgardian Spirits danced around Loki, whispering ancient secrets as he channeled his rituals. These ceremonies blessed the compound with a magical shield, an ethereal protection against outside threats.
Yet, this shield bore a vulnerability. Each New Moon, Loki needed an hour to rejuvenate its power, leaving the compound momentarily exposed. The Avengers, ever vigilant, braced themselves during this time, knowing all too well it was when enemies might seize their chance.
You were stationed at the front door, the only entry point your enemies would never think to use. Steve, Sam, and Tony got the more complex entry points AND all the fun.
As you stood there, Chitauri weapons and your own version of the Iron Glove in hand, you paced back and forth, itching for some excitement.
From within the building, Loki's voice surged like a divine chant, causing the very foundations of the compound to quiver. A sense of awe enveloped you, his smooth baritone intoning in a language unknown to you. It swelled, filling the air, drowning out all else, until his voice was the very pulse of your existence. It felt sacred, all-consuming. You yearned to immerse yourself in this overwhelming force, to be one with its profound mysticism.
THWACK!
Snapping out of the religious experience, you turned your head to the right. What the hell was that?
Alarms blared inside the building, but Loki's voice remained strong. You got the excitement you were hoping for, after all!
You rushed inside to where Loki was, hoping nobody had the chance to reach him yet. The voice got louder as you got closer, and the sheer energy surrounding him and the spirits visiting him stopped you dead in your tracks. This is about as far as you could go - which means it's about as far as any enemy can go.
You took a position right outside this forcefield... and waited. Shouts, alarms, and sounds of guns and clanging armors indicated there were at least 50 men to contend with, but if Tony, Steve, and Sam were handling it, it meant the enemies were dropping like flies.
Suddenly, shadows flitted in the periphery. You squinted, spotting a group of infiltrators — mercenaries from the Ten Rings, wielding strange energy blades that pulsed with a sinister glow. Their aim was clear: to break Loki's concentration, shattering the protective shield.
As they advanced, you readied your Iron Glove, releasing a blinding burst of energy that knocked several of them off their feet. Above you, the sound of battle resonated through the hallways — Steve's shield clashing, Tony's repulsors firing, and Sam's wings echoing with swift movements.
In the midst of the chaos, you held your ground, determined to protect Loki. Every so often, you'd catch a glimpse of him through the chaos. Each time your eyes met, a silent understanding passed between you. He continued his incantation, the ethereal spirits swirling around him, a stark contrast to the violence outside their protective circle.
Suddenly, a massive force threw you off balance. One of the Ten Rings, stronger and more formidable than the others, had charged towards you. Just as he was about to strike, a protective green energy barrier emanated from Loki, throwing the assailant off course.
Loki's eyes locked onto yours, a mix of gratitude and something deeper, something neither of you had acknowledged before. The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the realization that you had just risked everything for him, made your heart race.
Not now... focus.
The energy barrier was enough to make the other thugs hesitate to approach you. The leader shouted at them to continue advancing, but some valued their lives more than their jobs and fled outside. Unknown to them, the Hulk was outside waiting for them, but that wasn't your problem.
The leader glared at you, his bloodied face and gleaming sword making you wonder, for a second, how hot Loki would look disheveled and dangerous.
You shook your head to get rid of those sinful thoughts. Focus.
The leader dropped his sword and reached into his pocket. The world around you stopped, and a breath hitched in your throat. He took out a small metallic object, a cube no bigger than the dice you played Monopoly with.
The cube shimmered under the dim light, emanating an aura so potent that even from a distance, its pull was undeniable. Etched runes, eerily reminiscent of the old Asgardian scripts, glowed on its sides. It was an artifact from the realm of Svartálfar, known for its potent disruptions to magic and spells.
The leader sneered, holding the cube high. "You think you're the only ones with ancient weapons?" he barked. With a swift movement, he crushed the cube in his palm, releasing a blinding pulse of energy.
The effect was immediate. Loki's chants faltered, his connection with the spirits weakened, and a violent tremor coursed through the compound. The quake threw many of the Ten Rings off balance, some being buried beneath the fallen debris. The protective barrier around Loki wavered, and he stumbled, the weight of the entire compound's shield on his shoulders proving too much to bear without his full concentration.
Loki's emerald eyes widened in panic as he saw the leader lunging at you. With a swift movement, he summoned his scepter and projected a beam of emerald energy, knocking the leader off his trajectory and away from you.
But the damage was done. The quake grew more violent, causing cracks to appear on the walls and floor of the compound. Alarms blared, warning of structural instability, and the compound risked collapsing on itself.
It was then that you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist. Without a word, Loki teleported both of you to a safer location, away from the chaos of the crumbling compound. You found yourselves on a hill overlooking the Avengers compound. Below, fires raged, and the earth trembled, but you were safe.
Tony and Sam flew above, and you could almost see the look of utter rage and confusion on Tony's face. You hoped the non-flying Avengers were safe, and almost as if she heard you, Wanda flew out, and Steve, Bucky, and Maria Hill floated out with her, enveloped in her red energy.
Loki and you panted heavily, leaning on each other for support. The magnitude of what had just transpired weighed heavily on both your minds. The cube, with its power to disrupt even the most potent of Asgardian spells, was a game-changer.
Loki looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern. "That cube… it's an artifact of Svartálfar. I've only heard of its existence."
You nodded, catching your breath. "And now we know what it can do."
It took everything in Loki not to pull you into his arms, and thank Odin you were unharmed. The mystical energy around him lingered, making you feel faint. You could still feel the walls shake as his chants grew louder. But now, with no Loki and no spirits on the compound, the Avengers had never been more vulnerable.
"We need to go back," you said. "I do; you stay here." "That's not happening... Loki, take me back." "Y/N, you're not a god, and you have no powers." "I'm an Avenger!" "Y/N!" "LOKI!"
You glared at him defiantly. "I'll walk there if I have to." "Then I will tie you down here."
The comment made you take a step back - his low voice and intense eyes made that comment so sexually charged you needed a minute to stabilize yourself. As if he heard your thoughts, he blushed a bright red and looked away from you.
"Could you not be so stubborn?" he asked. "The compound is literally falling apart."
Loki, taking a deep breath, realized the futility of arguing. "Very well," he sighed, offering his hand, "Together, then."
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In a blink, you found yourselves back at the compound. The fires raged more fiercely, and the remnants of the Ten Rings mercenary group had regrouped, exploiting the compound's vulnerabilities.
Tony was in the thick of it, his red and gold suit glowing brightly against the darkness, his repulsor beams shooting enemies down like flies. But it wasn't enough. Wanda, her hands glowing with red energy, was creating barriers and tossing the mercenaries around, but she, too, was outnumbered.
"I'll handle the men," you shouted, drawing two Chitauri weapons from your side. "You get the shield back up!"
Before Loki could object, you dashed into the fray. Tony zoomed by your side, firing blasts at any mercenary that got too close. "Nice of you to join the party," he quipped.
Wanda joined forces with you, her telekinetic abilities perfectly complementing your combat skills. Together, the three of you formed an unbreakable front, pushing the invaders back.
Loki, meanwhile, rushed to the ritual site, attempting to regain his connection with the Asgardian spirits. As he began chanting, another familiar voice joined him. Thor, having sensed the disturbance, had returned. The brothers, their powers combined, created a force to be reckoned with. The chants became louder, and more potent, and the ethereal spirits returned, swirling around them.
You, Tony, and Wanda worked in perfect harmony. Using her powers, Wanda lifted groups of mercenaries into the air while Tony and you, with precision targeting, fired at them, effectively incapacitating them. Once subdued, they were effortlessly thrown into the waiting arms of the Hulk, who gleefully swatted them away like bothersome flies.
As the last of the mercenaries were dealt with, Loki and Thor's combined energies surged, the shield's power restored. The compound's tremors ceased, and an eerie calm settled.
The shield was back, stronger than ever.
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"We really need to find another way to charge those magical shields," Tony said, taking a swig from his glass. "An hour under a New Moon? We're practically begging to be invaded."
The party was on in the in-house bar and lounge, but Loki was nowhere to be seen. Not seeing the point in staying too long, you finished the rest of your drink and got up.
"Leaving already?" Tony asked, "Come on, it's 1 in the morning." "Yeah, but emotionally I'm 80, so I would want to be in bed by 8. Sorry."
He laughed and bid you good night, as did the others.
You made your way back to your room when Loki crossed your path.
The dim lighting of the hallway cast dramatic shadows, and Loki's silhouette stood out, his posture both regal and, strangely, vulnerable. His green eyes bore into yours, the same intensity from earlier lingering.
"You're heading to your chambers?" he asked, the question seemingly simple but with layers of emotion underneath.
"I am," you replied, meeting his gaze. "But not before I thank you."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Thank me?"
"For everything," you started. "You've been risking your life to shield this compound, putting yourself in the line of fire every New Moon."
He took a step closer, closing the gap between you two. "You risked just as much. Maybe even more," he said softly. "You could have stayed out of it. Yet, you chose to step into the fray, for me."
The air between you two was thick with unsaid words and emotions, neither of you breaking the gaze.
"I couldn't just stand by," you whispered. "Not when you were in danger."
A small smile tugged at Loki's lips. "And I couldn't imagine a world where you were harmed. Even the thought terrifies me."
Heart pounding, you took a bold step, bringing yourself right up to him. "Loki," you breathed, "I realized something tonight. With all the chaos and... watching those men trying to get to you. I-I can't ignore it anymore."
His voice was barely audible, filled with anticipation. "And what is it you can't ignore anymore?"
His maddening, magnetic energy made you feel weak, conveniently giving you an excuse to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him towards you. You ran your hands from the nape of his neck into his hair as you lifted yourself to tiptoes and kissed him deeply. As you tugged his hair gently, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him, nearly crushing you.
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MASTERLIST
Open for new fic requests! Here are the request guidelines :)
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ancientwastedlores · 8 months
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Anyone else think Hozier's Unreal Unearth is hitting a certain way after Good Omens S2? I'm in my Crowley feels.
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ancientwastedlores · 10 months
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Ask is open for T. Swift-song-inspired fics on Loki & Hiddles!
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Send your requests here!
MASTERLIST || Latest series: Freed by Fate (3 parts)
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ancientwastedlores · 10 months
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FREED BY FATE (PT 3)
Find Part 1 and Part 2 here
WARNINGS: None
WORD COUNT: 750
A few hours before the wedding, the atmosphere was a tangible mixture of nervous anticipation and frenzied excitement. Kate was on the bride's side, caught up in a whirl of satin and lace, champagne and laughter, as Honoria readied herself to step into the new phase of her life. She looked breathtaking, radiant in her happiness - or maybe it was the glint of relief that reflected in her eyes as the reality of retaining her inheritance drew nearer.
On the other side, things were starkly different. You were with Tom, helping him with the last-minute preparations. His suit hung untouched, the rich fabric glimmering under the soft light. The cufflinks, a gift from his mother, lay neatly on the dresser. His groomsmen's gifts, hand-picked by you, were wrapped meticulously, awaiting distribution.
Yet, there was a palpable tension in the air. Tom was quiet, his silence unnerving. His friends looked worried, stealing glances at him and whispering amongst themselves. Their jovial banter from the previous night had disappeared, replaced by an uneasy quietude.
"Tom," you began, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched slightly, startled, and looked at you. "Are you okay?"
He laughed humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think, Y/N?"
The air around you shifted as the groomsmen recognized something was going on. The group excused itself from the room, leaving you alone with Tom. He watched them leave before turning to look at you, his eyes a whirlpool of emotions.
“You still have time. You can still leave.” 
"I can't, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have no choice."
"But you do, Tom," you insisted, holding his gaze. "You always have a choice."
For a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I can't let Honoria lose everything. And it's not just about the money or the inheritance. It's... it's about her dignity. Her legacy."
"And what about you, Tom?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "What about your happiness?"
Tom fell silent, his expression hard to read. "I... I don't know, Y/N."
You looked at him, your heart aching. You had seen this man in moments of joy and sadness and watched him prepare for the biggest day of his life with a resignation that was heartbreaking. And now, as you stood there, you realized just how deeply you cared for him.
The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken words and hidden emotions. Finally, you decided to break it, "Tom, I..."
He held his finger against your lips, the touch igniting a fire inside you. "Y/N, don't. I can't... I can't hear it right now."
"But, Tom..."
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. For us," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just... I need some time."
Nodding, you excused yourself, leaving Tom alone with his thoughts. 
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MASTERLIST (find the next chapters here!)
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ancientwastedlores · 10 months
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FREED BY FATE (PT 2)
Find Part 1 here
WARNINGS: None
WORD COUNT: 966
A few hours before the wedding, the atmosphere was a tangible mixture of nervous anticipation and frenzied excitement. Kate was on the bride's side, caught up in a whirl of satin and lace, champagne and laughter, as Honoria readied herself to step into the new phase of her life. She looked breathtaking, radiant in her happiness - or maybe it was the glint of relief that reflected in her eyes as the reality of retaining her inheritance drew nearer.
On the other side, things were starkly different. You were with Tom, helping him with the last-minute preparations. His suit hung untouched, the rich fabric glimmering under the soft light. The cufflinks, a gift from his mother, lay neatly on the dresser. His groomsmen's gifts, hand-picked by you, were wrapped meticulously, awaiting distribution.
Yet, there was a palpable tension in the air. Tom was quiet, his silence unnerving. His friends looked worried, stealing glances at him and whispering amongst themselves. Their jovial banter from the previous night had disappeared, replaced by an uneasy quietude.
"Tom," you began, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched slightly, startled, and looked at you. "Are you okay?"
He laughed humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think, Y/N?"
The air around you shifted as the groomsmen recognized something was going on. The group excused itself from the room, leaving you alone with Tom. He watched them leave before turning to look at you, his eyes a whirlpool of emotions.
“You still have time. You can still leave.” 
"I can't, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have no choice."
"But you do, Tom," you insisted, holding his gaze. "You always have a choice."
For a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "I can't let Honoria lose everything. And it's not just about the money or the inheritance. It's... it's about her dignity. Her legacy."
"And what about you, Tom?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "What about your happiness?"
Tom fell silent, his expression hard to read. "I... I don't know, Y/N."
You looked at him, your heart aching. You had seen this man in moments of joy and sadness and watched him prepare for the biggest day of his life with a resignation that was heartbreaking. And now, as you stood there, you realized just how deeply you cared for him.
The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken words and hidden emotions. Finally, you decided to break it, "Tom, I..."
He held his finger against your lips, the touch igniting a fire inside you. "Y/N, don't. I can't... I can't hear it right now."
"But, Tom..."
"I appreciate everything you've done for me. For us," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just... I need some time."
Nodding, you excused yourself, leaving Tom alone with his thoughts. 
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The next time you saw Tom, he was in a suit. The sight of it took your breath away, and you couldn’t stop your heart from dropping to your knees. He looked gorgeous, almost surreal. The impeccably tailored suit hugged his form, accentuating his lean physique. His hair was styled to perfection, a few stray locks playfully falling over his forehead. And his eyes, oh, his eyes were a tumult of emotions - nervousness, anticipation, and a hidden sadness that only you seemed to perceive.
He went on to distribute the groomsmen's gifts, each one met with a chorus of appreciative remarks and brotherly jests. His friends clapped his back and murmured words of encouragement into his ear, but all their joviality couldn’t mask the concern in their eyes.
And then, it was time for his speech. Tom stood at the head of the room, his gaze scanning over his friends and family. The room fell into a hushed silence as he cleared his throat.
"I want to thank all of you for being here," he began, his voice steady. "This day...this day wouldn't have been possible without each and every one of you."
You watched from the sidelines, your heart echoing with a dull ache. The air seemed to thin around you as you saw him standing there, on the brink of a decision that he wasn't entirely at peace with. It felt like watching a scene from a tragic play, beautiful yet heartbreaking.
The car ride to the venue was quiet. The bustling cityscape of London rushed by in a blur, reflecting your tumultuous thoughts. Beside you, Tom sat, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, lost in his thoughts.
And then, he broke the silence.
"Y/N..." he murmured, turning to look at you. His voice was soft, hesitant as if he was grappling with the words. "There's something I need to tell you."
Your heart pounded in your chest, a flurry of emotions coursing through you. "Yes, Tom?" you managed to ask, bracing yourself for what was to come.
"I..." he began, faltering for a moment before taking a deep breath, "... I care for you. More than I should, more than is appropriate, given... everything."
Your breath hitched in your throat. "Tom..."
"No, let me finish," he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I know it's too late. I know that... well, I am about to marry Honoria. But I... I can't stand the thought of not telling you how I feel."
Your heart felt heavy in your chest. All the unsaid words, all the hidden emotions - they were out in the open now. But it was too late. A sense of bittersweet relief washed over you tinged with regret and an inexplicable pain. But for now, you could do nothing but offer him a weak smile and a whispered, "I know, Tom. I know."
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MASTERLIST (find the next chapters here!)
Chapter 3 of Freed by Fate here
Requests are open!
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ancientwastedlores · 10 months
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Hiii! I've missed your fics and I was so glad to see you back! I saw this idea on IG some weeks ago and omg I want it.... so Tom H is being forced to marry someone because of some family agreement that happened ages ago, and he has to see it through because he is a gentleman and a man of his word... but Reader is hired to plan the wedding (basically the event of the year!) and Tom falls in love with her! I'm thinking Antony Bridgerton vibes, pain and longing! thankuuuuu <3 <3
My goodness, it's been a while! What with having a job and everything, I've lost touch with writing, but I do miss it. So glad to see you missed me too, I was afraid I would return to darkness :')
With love, from me to you...  
NOTE: I meant for this to be just 1 part, and it ended up being 3. Enjoy!
WARNINGS: Masturbation, 18+ only
WORD COUNT: 4991
FREED BY FATE (PT 1)
This wasn't happening.
A promise made some 10 years ago... surely, she would have found another man. Surely, she would have fallen in love with someone else.
Tom Hiddleston, hiding away in his London townhouse with the curtains drawn and lights off, gaped at the headlines on his phone.
"Honoria Sterling, Heir to Worldwide Hotel Empire, Set to Marry Marvel’s Tom Hiddleston."
The words almost seemed to be in another language. Taking another swig of his whiskey, he tossed his phone aside and glared into nothingness.
He would have to call on Honoria. She would just have to understand.
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24 hours after the news broke, Tom found himself at the door of Honoria's penthouse apartment, knocking with all the strength of a man after a painful trudge through one of London's miserable rains. He would have driven, but he needed the walk. As hot as his head was getting thinking about Honoria’s betrayal, it would take London’s cold showers to calm him down before seeing the woman face to face. 
He heard her shuffle inside before unlocking the door and pulling it open. What greeted him was a tall, classic English beauty with curlers in her hair and a sour look on her face. 
"I was expecting you." she said curtly. She tossed him the towel she held in her hand. "Come in and dry off."
Dripping wet, he took the towel and attempted to dry his hair as he entered the lavish apartment. Any other day, he would have carried Honoria in his arms and fucked her on her designer couch while marveling at the city lights. Tonight, however, the thought of touching her made his skin crawl. 
He glared at her as he made his way to her expensive fur carpet and sat down on it in defiance. The wet sludge on his shoes made their insolent mark, and he all but smirked at her. 
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, you made your point. Just talk like an adult.” 
"You had no right to break the news that way."
"I knew you wouldn't commit to it. And I wasn't in the mood to have a fight."
"What if I were seeing someone!?"
"Oh please, you broke up with that singer like a month ago. You're not one to move fast."
Tom still gave her the dirtiest look as he wiped his hair. "You had no right," he muttered.
Honoria sat on a barstool across from Tom and crossed her long legs. She was unperturbed by his accusations. "We had a deal. I told you... I collect."
"You could have warned me."
"Would you have agreed to it?"
"NO!"
"That's why I didn't warn you."
He sighed. Silence seemed like the only appropriate thing for the moment. He could hardly muster the energy for anything else. The walk to her house took everything out of him, and the only thing he could think to do was sleep. 
“I’m staying on the carpet tonight and we will discuss this in the morning." 
Saying this, he grabbed a pillow from the couch, put it down on the plush carpet, and settled in for the night.
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You were among the youngest recruits in the wedding business but a formidable force. Small in stature but a towering personality that always got the best of the company’s toughest suppliers. It was never any point in negotiating contracts with you, so they decided it was better to be your friend than foe. 
From handling suppliers like an expert to striking deals that made both your boss and your clients happy, you were possibly the best thing to happen to ‘Mosaic’ since Kate founded it 6 years ago.
You were practically invincible, and Kate knew it. Little by little, she felt comfortable giving you bigger weddings to handle, and you never disappointed her or your clients.
So when the Hiddleston-Sterling wedding crossed Kate's table, it was obvious who she’d choose to assist her. 
"Be my number 2 on this," she pleaded.
"I don't know, Kate, I'm already managing 2 weddings this month..."
"Hand it off to Alison and work with me on this one! Come on, you know you want to."
You did... this would be the biggest contract Mosaic had ever seen, and you'd been wanting to talk to Kate about becoming partners in her business. This would be your in... impress her, and she might agree to give you shares in the company. But you also had to consider the well-being of your existing clients. 
"I... it wouldn't be fair to my other clients, Kate. I can’t switch up on them and make Alison the point of contact out of the blue."
"Y/N... I don't trust anyone else. I’ll speak to the clients! And this wedding will need 2 very capable, very active people to contact at all times with questions and requests. I can't do this alone."
"Um..."
She looked at you with eyes the size of saucers.
"FINE" you exclaimed, instantly a giant grin crossing your face. "Hiddleston-Sterling!"
Both of you squealed in her office before you had to compose yourself and walk out.
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The sun rays filtered through Honoria's intricately patterned curtains and fell on Tom's sleeping face in the most beautiful way. He stirred awake, disturbed by the light and blinked to focus his sight. He was still on the floor in her living room, and she was off in the kitchen brewing herself a coffee.
"Honoria?"
"Oh hello. You're up!"
She walked to the living room, 2 cups in hand, her heels clacking against the Calcutta marble floors. She set down one cup for Tom and motioned for him to get up.
"We still need to talk," he reminded her.
"Plenty of time for that. I have to go to work now. I've got the planner coming to meet me at the office and her assistant will come see you later."
"What planner?"
"What planner? The wedding planner! Come along!"
"Honoria... we can't do this. "
"Thomas..."
"Oh dear," he shook his head at the mention of his full name.
"Tom," she corrected herself. "I need this. I will have nothing if you back out, you know that."
He looked up at her from the ground, still in a daze.
Honoria was beautiful... a classic English beauty with soft features and a timeless elegance about her. Tom couldn't break her heart.
"When is the assistant coming?"
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Binders, forms, stickers, and color pens in hand, you rapped on the door of a fancy London townhouse. This was by no means your first time meeting with a high-profile client, but you were afraid of falling into his charms.
Tom's every interview online felt like he was flirting with the camera, and you couldn't help but feel like you were on a date every time you watched one pop up on YouTube. But no... you had to be professional. The man is getting married. To a billionaire, no less!
A second later, the door was opened.
It took you what felt like hours to compose yourself.
Tom Hiddleston, all 6 feet and 2 inches of him, stood before you with his blonde curls, soft smile, and a crisp white shirt. Fighting the urge to take a deep breath and smell his scent, you mustered up a professional smile for the groom-to-be.
"Mr. Hiddleston! I'm Y/N." you said. "I'm here to discuss the wedding, the office must have informed you."
"Of course, Mosaic Events. Come in!"
You stepped into an immaculate hallway with antique-style tables and fresh-cut flowers atop them. Of course, his home was pristine. "Right this way..." he pointed to the living area, where there was already a teapot, 2 empty cups, and a plate of biscuits.
His attentiveness during the conversation surprised you. You thought he'd be dismissive or distant, perhaps too overwhelmed by his situation to pay much attention. But no, Tom was all ears and eyes. When he told you what he wanted, it felt almost intimate... like getting a glance into a side of him that was forbidden. He talked about flowers and how he wanted his late grandfather's poetry to be read out at some point during the wedding or reception. It told you the story of a little boy planning his special day once he'd found the love of his life.
"I know men don't usually give this much thought to weddings..." he said sheepishly. "Honestly, I want Honoria to have whatever she wants, so if my ideas step on her toes, you can just discard them."
You smiled at him. "We try to accommodate both the bride and groom so it's special for both of you. And... I think it's beautiful you've given it so much thought."
"Do you have a lot of men so specific about their wedding needs?" he asked, hoping for some solidarity to make him feel better.
"Actually... more than you'd think!" you decide to give him a little gossip to make him feel better, "Once, I had a client tell me he wanted his bride to walk down the aisle to the Jurassic theme."
"What?"
"Not naming names... but he got a piano version of the theme made and had his to-be wife walk down the aisle to that. She had no idea. Probably still doesn't!"
Tom laughs, now relieved. It's a beautiful laugh, but you always knew that.
"Thank you, Y/N. For talking to me and getting my ideas down."
"You're very welcome!" you stand up and collect your things.
As he walks you to the door and opens it for you, you sense a hesitation in his actions.
"You want to ask me something," you say.
He looks surprised. "Um... well, yes.”
“Go on, then. I’m sure I’ve heard worse” you tease.
“Gosh, no… I - I wanted to ask if you're single” a fierce red creeps into his cheeks. 
"Ah. You want to know if the wedding planner has planned her own wedding," you tease, "Always the planner, never the bride."
He laughs. "I reckon that's a yes."
"Yep. Far too much on my plate to handle a man."
"It's a man's job to handle you, not be handled."
"Well..." you shrug. "Never met a man who didn't need handling. And the good ones are all taken so... here I am."
You’re not sure why you’ve just revealed such an intimate detail. Perhaps the wedding planning made him so vulnerable you felt you had to share a tidbit. You force a smile, however awkward, to your face. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Hiddleston. I’ll be seeing you soon!” 
You leave through the door and skip down the steps as Tom watches you. “I sure hope so.” he mutters under his breath. 
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The Mosaic Events office had been buzzing for the last month. The date for the Hiddleston-Sterling (or as you’d termed it: Hiddling) wedding had been set, sending everyone, especially Kate, into a frenzy. 
You’d met Tom only one more time after the initial consultation, only to discuss the wedding date and venue. Honoria was present at that meeting, and you were frankly a little intimidated by her presence. She was beautiful, powerful, sophisticated, and to your surprise, incredibly funny. You saw why Tom would marry her, and it was obvious why she’d marry him. 
At the time, though, the air wasn’t as charged with excitement as you’d expected. Tom seemed miles away during the discussion, mainly agreeing to anything Honoria said. It seemed possible he was just having a bad day… 
But today… today was important. You had planned a cake tasting and were scrambling to get your planners and papers in order. 
As the morning sun glinted off the skyline of London, the pastry chefs and bakers at The Tea Room began setting up for the day's events, and you were right there with them, setting the table for the session. A round table was meticulously set up, laden with different flavors of cakes and their respective icing options. A stack of notepads, pens, and swatch cards lay beside each plate, ready for notes about preferences and decisions.
As Tom and Honoria arrived, the tension in the air was palpable. Tom's usual charming demeanor seemed to have an undercurrent of unease as Honoria, ever the elegant figure, swept in, her eyes glittering with excitement. You couldn't help but notice the lack of intimacy between the couple — a stark contrast to the warmth and affection that typically filled these tastings.
You sat across from Tom, your eyes meeting his. His gaze was inquisitive and held a sense of familiarity that caught you off guard. Honoria took her seat beside him, her diamond engagement ring sparkling under the chandelier light.
The session started with a selection of classic flavors — vanilla, chocolate, and red velvet. Tom was attentive and involved, asking about ingredients and the possibility of personal touches to the wedding cake. You were taken aback by his thoughtfulness and interest. He wasn't merely agreeing to Honoria's choices this time but engaging in an honest dialogue about the cake design, the flavors, and how it all tied back to the theme of the wedding.
You couldn't help but lean in, captivated by his earnestness. Tom noticed your attention, his eyes meeting yours again. You saw a flicker of something and, as a reflex, pulled back. 
"Honoria, I quite fancy the idea of having lavender in our cake. It might be unusual, but it could be a homage to the lavender fields in Cotswolds where we had our first trip together." Tom suggested.
Honoria seemed taken aback. "Lavender? In our wedding cake? I don't know, Tom, it sounds rather odd."
Tom visibly withdrew after this rejection, and you couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heartstrings. 
"Actually…” you heard yourself jump in, “Lavender can be a beautiful, subtle flavor when done right. And it's symbolic, too. It can represent love and devotion — which seems apt for a wedding cake, don't you think?"
Tom's eyes brightened, and he looked at you with appreciation. "Yes, exactly!"
However, Honoria, her gaze icy, swiftly shut the idea down. "I think we'll stick with the classics, Thomas. No need to experiment on our wedding day."
You sensed the disappointment on Tom's face, but he simply nodded, not wanting to push the issue further. The cake tasting continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. The spark in Tom's eyes had dimmed, and his voice lacked its previous enthusiasm.
As the day ended and decisions were made — a towering traditional white cake with ribbon fondant, pearl detailing, and roses — you couldn't help but feel like something was missing. These tastings were usually filled with laughter, curiosity, and excitement as the couple debated over flavors and playfully teased each other for their sense of taste. This one felt… formal. Almost like a wedding activity to check off the list before Honoria returned to managing her empire and Tom returned to set. 
You began packing up your duffel bag filled with binders and samples when you caught Tom’s eye. He walked over to you, a shy smile on his face. "Thank you for today. And for understanding what I wanted... even if it didn't make the cut."
You returned his smile, the air between you humming with an unspoken connection. "No problem. Sorry it didn’t work out, but…” you reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a small cake box, “I got them to bake you a vanilla pastry with lavender. If I were you, I’d eat it on my couch while binge-watching something.” 
Tom’s smile faded, and his eyes widened. It seemed as if someone had reached into his heart and pulled out the very desire he’d been desperate to manifest, though it seemed little to do with cake and more to do with your gesture. 
“Thank you, Y/N” he said softly. “This was… this is wonderful, thank you.” 
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Tom sat on his couch, playing reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, savoring every bite of the pastry you got made for him. It was delicious, unique… perfect. He couldn’t help but think of you - ache for you - as he took bite after bite and imagined you next to him, tasting each pastry. 
He carefully set aside what was left of the pastry and stared into nothingness. After settling into the couch and putting his head back, he took a few deep breaths before unbuckling his belt and reaching into his pants. 
It had been a month since he first saw you, and he’d stopped himself from thinking of you in any capacity other than a friend. This day, however, watching you try cakes, get frosting on your fingers and lick it off (an act that horrified Honoria’s delicate English sensibilities), and enjoy sweet flavors with sinful sounds, pushed him over the edge. 
After taking a moment to breathe and recenter himself, he let his mind drift. Images of you from earlier in the day surfaced, making his heart race. He remembered the way you had playfully argued about the lavender in the cake, the way you had laughed, and the way your eyes lit up when you spoke. He found it enthralling.
He imagined you there with him on the couch, your laughter filling the room as you bantered about the show on TV. His heart ached at the thought, and he let his hand move, his touch bringing a much-needed release.
As the night deepened and the laughter from the TV echoed around the room, he found himself lost in fantasies of you. Each touch, each stroke, was fueled by thoughts of you — your smile, your laughter, your kindness.
His other hand traced imaginary lines over his chest and stomach, his mind picturing your hands instead. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of you touching him, your fingers dancing over his skin.
The fantasy of your touch, the imagined sound of your voice whispering his name, drove him over the edge. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath hitched, and a low groan escaped his lips. 
As the wave of pleasure washed over him, he let out a soft sigh, a single word slipping from his lips, "Y/N..."
In the quiet aftermath, Tom was left panting on his couch, his mind filled with thoughts of you. It was a strange sensation, both satisfying and overwhelming. He realized that he was falling for you, despite the complicated situation he found himself in.
And as he lay there in the silent room, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to actually have you there, right next to him. To hear your laughter not in his imagination but echoing in his living room. And above all, he wondered what it would feel like to taste lavender not just on a cake but on your lips.
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“Do you like it?” you asked Honoria, hope in your voice. 
“It’s absolutely perfect!” she exclaimed. "You've truly outdone yourself, Y/N," Honoria continued, her eyes wide with admiration. She turned to look at the grandeur around her, at the majesty of the venue that you had turned into an elegant dreamscape for her and Tom.
The venue was the epitome of classic elegance and beauty. Vaulted ceilings adorned with ornate carvings led the gaze toward the expanse of sky visible through the massive glass dome. The walls, cloaked in ivy and twining roses, held vintage gilt mirrors reflecting the magnificent chandeliers, which dangled like a constellation of stars.
The attention to detail was impeccable. From the antiquated bronze candelabras holding flickering candles to the opulent drapes of heavy silk, everything showcased old money. The tables were dressed in pristine white, topped with silver cutlery and crystal stemware. Centerpieces featuring an array of flowers in hues of white and soft pink added an ethereal touch.
Tom was left speechless. He felt as if he had been transported into another world, a world fit for a king and queen — a perfect analogy for him and Honoria, considering their royalty status in the media. They were the IT couple, constantly scrutinized under the public eye.
As he looked around, a soft gasp left his lips. His eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next, each more breathtaking than the last. "Y/N," he whispered, turning to look at you, "it's... I'm at a loss for words."
His heart pounded in his chest as he took in your prideful smile. As beautiful as the venue was, nothing compared to your smile. It was infectious, lighting up the room even more than the grand chandeliers. It warmed him, made him feel alive. But it also tore him apart.
He wished he was marrying you.
The reality of his situation dawned on him, bitter and heart-wrenching. He was to marry Honoria, not you. The beautiful, perfect venue was for her. The gorgeous arrangements, the grandeur, the elegance, it was all for her.
"I... It's perfect," he choked out, his eyes never leaving yours. "You've done an incredible job, Y/N."
But as he said those words, all he could think about was how much he wished he was saying them to you, not as a wedding planner, but as his bride. He wished he was telling you how beautiful everything was because it was for your wedding — your wedding with him. And as he stood there amidst the grandeur of the venue, he felt an ache in his chest at the thought.
You managed to tear your eyes away from Tom’s and approach Kate to confirm some last minute details. 
Honoria walked over to Tom while you were gone and took his arm in hers. “This looks fit for us, don’t you think?” 
“...it really does.” 
She turned to face him. “You know… I really appreciate this. I know I don’t say it enough but you are practically saving my life.” 
Tom nodded, well aware of their predicament. “Sure, don’t mention it,” he said curtly. His eyes went back to you, now engaged in an animated conversation with the caterer. With only a week left for the wedding day, the noose around his neck only got tighter. 
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As the night wore on, you found yourself in a little pub tucked away in a quiet corner of London. Kate had just finished her fourth pint and was bellowing out laughter at a joke that wasn't that funny. But the night was full of merriment and euphoria, your upcoming deadline – the Hiddleston-Sterling wedding – drawing close.
Suddenly, Kate stood up, her face flushed. "I've got to go, Y/N," she slurred, grinning. "I'll leave the tab with you."
As you protested, she waved you off, promising to make it up later, and stumbled out of the pub, leaving you alone. Sighing, you sauntered over to the bar to settle your tab. 
You were halfway through paying when you spotted a familiar figure hunched over a glass of whiskey at the other end of the bar. Tom Hiddleston sat there, alone, his shoulders slumped. Your heart throbbed as you watched him down his drink and immediately ask for a refill. He looked lost, alone, and incredibly drunk.
"Tom?" you called out, approaching him hesitantly. He looked up at you, surprise flickering across his features.
"Y/N," he slurred, a sad smile playing on his lips. "What are you doing here?"
"I was here with Kate," you replied, glancing at his drink. "How much have you had, Tom?"
He shrugged, turning the empty glass in his hands. "Don't know. Lost count after the fifth one."
You sighed, biting your lip. "You're too drunk, Tom. I can't let you go home alone like this."
With some struggle and a few mumbled protests from Tom, you managed to get him outside and into a cab. The ride back to his place was quiet, except for Tom's occasional drunken ramblings. 
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Once inside his apartment, you guided him to the couch, helping him sit down. He slumped against the cushions, watching you with bleary eyes.
"Tom," you began, your voice gentle, "Why are you doing this? You're marrying in a week. You should be happy."
A bitter laugh escaped him, and he shook his head. "Happy?" he echoed, sounding hollow. "I wish, Y/N. I wish."
Your brows furrowed, and you sat down next to him. "What do you mean? Why are you marrying Honoria if you're not happy?"
His laughter died, replaced by a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his hair; his gaze focused somewhere far away. "Honoria's father," he began, "he's dying. And he put this absurd clause in his will. If Honoria doesn't get married before he passes away, she loses everything. Her inheritance... her father's hotel empire."
“Okay… what… I mean, that’s awful, but what does that have to do with you?” 
“When she found out, she asked me… she asked me to be her safety. We agreed that if I wasn’t seeing anyone that I’d be the safety.” 
"So, you're marrying her out of obligation?"
Tom nodded again, his gaze finally meeting yours. "I'm trapped, Y/N. I couldn't let her lose everything. She’s been my friend since I was in college, she means so much to me, but I’m just… I’m not in love. And that sounds so selfish in the face of everything she could lose, all because she isn’t married to some guy.” 
A mix of emotions surged through you. Anger because of Honoria’s father, sadness for Honoria’s situation, and pain for Tom’s obligation. You were in no position to help any of them… the only thing you could do was ensure the day went smoothly because the bride and groom seemingly had enough to worry about. 
“None of it matters. It doesn’t matter how she feels… how I feel. How much I feel…” he trailed off. Still drunk, he let his head roll back as he settled into the couch. He took your hand and pressed it against his chest. “Your hands are cold,” he mumbled. 
Squeezing his hand gently, you murmured a quiet "sorry," pulling your hand back and rubbing them together for warmth. 
"You need to sleep, Tom," you gently prodded, standing up to fetch a glass of water from his kitchen. Returning to the living room, you pressed the glass into his hand, helping him sit up. He drank it obediently, but his gaze never left you.
"It's not fair, is it?" he mumbled, his words barely a whisper. "Being forced into something you didn't choose..."
You didn't have an answer to that. Instead, you helped him lay back on the couch, grabbing a throw blanket from the back and covering him with it. His eyelids were heavy now, the alcohol and the late hour taking their toll.
"I'm sorry you're in this position, Tom," you finally said. "Just... try to get some sleep, alright?"
He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're a good friend, Y/N," he slurred out, his voice drowsy. "Thank you."
With that, he drifted off, his breaths evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep. You sat there for a moment longer, looking at him, at the man who was about to get married out of obligation rather than love. A mix of emotions welled up inside you, but you pushed them down. Now wasn't the time. Tom needed his rest, and you... You had a wedding to plan.
Rising from your spot next to the couch, you quietly collected your belongings and left his apartment, the echoes of his words replaying in your mind, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn't fair; none of it was. But life rarely is.
As you left the building and hailed a cab, the night seemed colder, lonelier. But you steeled yourself. You had a job to do, and no matter what, you would do it to the best of your ability. Even if your heart ached with every passing second. For now, though, you needed to focus on the task at hand: creating a fairy tale wedding for a couple trapped in their own twisted version of reality.
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The days that followed blurred into a haze of activity. Each sunrise brought a fresh onslaught of tasks that barely gave you time to dwell on Tom's revelation.
There were the vendors to deal with - florists who couldn't seem to get the shade of blush on the roses right, caterers insisting on last-minute changes, the musicians bickering over the setlist. 
The bridesmaid dresses were another matter entirely. They arrived two sizes too small, causing panic amongst the bridesmaids and a whirlwind of frenzied phone calls to the designer. Hours were spent on damage control, finding a local seamstress who could fix the dresses and ensure that they fit perfectly.
Then there was Kate's nervousness. She was typically level-headed and unflappable, but the sheer scale of this wedding, the media attention it was garnering, was getting to her. There were multiple reassurances that you had to offer, countless instances of telling her that everything was under control, that she was doing a fantastic job, and that the wedding would be beautiful.
Your nights were spent tossing and turning in bed, Tom's words echoing in your head. You found your thoughts drifting to him constantly, wondering how he was faring, how he was dealing with his own emotions.
The sight of Tom and Honoria together during the pre-wedding events was a constant reminder of the impending wedding, a countdown that was ticking away relentlessly. Their smiles seemed forced, their laughter too loud, and their touches lacked warmth. But the public ate it up, their faces splashed across every tabloid, their love story narrated with a romantic flair that felt too hollow to you.
As the days dwindled down to hours, the buzz around the wedding escalated. It was being touted as the event of the year, the union of two influential figures under the watchful eyes of the world.
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MASTERLIST
Chapter 2 of Freed by Fate here
Requests are open! &lt;3
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ancientwastedlores · 1 year
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Back to writing fics!
Hallo!
I know it's been a while. A lot happened - moved to Dubai, started working as a freelance writer, moved to a nice new apartment, etc. etc.
I just miss writing Loki fics and I'm on a well-deserved vacation rn, so I wanted to get back into it. SO. Ask box is open. Let your prompts fly, my pretties!
A
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ancientwastedlores · 1 year
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Suffering may be redeemable, but it is not intrinsically redemptive.
Catherine Keller, “Scoop Up the Water and the Moon Is in Your Hands: On Feminist Theology and Dynamic Self-Emptying” in The Emptying God: A Buddhist-Jewish-Christian Conversation, ed. John B. Cobb Jr. and Christopher Ives
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ancientwastedlores · 2 years
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Someone make a Wanda in MoM edit with Taylor's anti-hero pls and thanku
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ancientwastedlores · 2 years
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Anti-hero (1)
No, because this bit makes me so sad
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At a certain point, you accept self-destruction and revel in it because nothing else makes you feel anything anymore.
Whether it's alcohol or stuffing yourself with food, late at night, you become your own companion, your own partner in crime, and enjoy the hurt and suffering all alone.
At midnight, when everyone who doesn't understand is asleep, you call her. You love her, you want her to be happy, but you just can't help her. So you let her drag you down with her.
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ancientwastedlores · 2 years
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Bestie are u ok you’ve been playing mastermind on loop
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ancientwastedlores · 2 years
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Midnights by Taylor Swift - thoughts
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On the surface - the album romanticises midnights and the darkness and secrets that come with it. 
BUT as you go deeper, it gives the impression that she really doesn’t WANT to be that person. She wants lightness, sunshine, and softness, but she has been forced into the darkness, so she has had to learn to love it. 
It’s the story of every woman who wishes to embrace everything and offer love freely but is constrained by fear of safety, judgement, and society’s general hatred of women. 
This album feels like moments of self realisation peppered throughout a lifetime (that we all have) but the person having them can’t do anything about it. This is just another prison, but you put yourself in it. Because what good is self realisation if you cannot correct your mistakes or change your habits? Depression and anxiety prevent you from making things better for yourself, so you stay in the darkness. 
You are forced into darkness by yourself and others... the prison walls just keep getting thicker. 
THIS album feels like a breakout from those constraints, because it feels like a CONFESSION. “This is the first time I’ve felt the need to confess” - the whole album is a confession, not just Mastermind. 
It’s like she’s finally free to enjoy daylight and softness and to give love freely, because society has lost its hold on her. 
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ancientwastedlores · 3 years
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Hi, Are your requests open ? I really like your stories 🙂
They are! But I might take a little time to get to them 👀
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