#htlaw

[mcaelius]

?

[winterheart17]

How A Writer Says Goodbye

TITLE OF STORY: How A Writer Says Goodbye

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 29

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None for this! Except perhaps some tissues (or at least I’d like to think there would be tears?)

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Wow, I did not mean to be away this long! This chapter was one heck of a monster to conquer - especially being the penultimate chapter and the scene I’ve had in my head pretty much ever since the conception of this entire plot. I’m so sorry for the long wait and can only hope this 8000 word chapter can make up for it. Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or off the tag list.

Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilerss @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96 @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditem @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening@wildest-dreams-at-midnight @tfwqueenidjit @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @noplacelikehome77 @vertdragain  @jessiejunebug @toaster-strudel-witch @a7xlizardqueen @starscreamloki@tinchentitri @prettyjewel93@chantimoondancer @dangertoozmanykids101@winterisakiller @humbleslvt @aeciru @paanchu786 @midgardianstranger @sailorcrescentpotter1

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

Gif credit: clintfbarton

“But don’t worry – I don’t intend on loving him any longer.”

A sharp intake of breath to my side.

But I refused to be swayed – refused to look even as my heart called out his name.

Yearned to see him.

Longed to see what the face of love lost looked like.

What love denounced felt like.

Because the truth was, I had held onto those words for so long – gone over them in my head in rehearsed practice like a broke record – they felt like a sham.

Like they were nothing more than a pretense.

Something I would hold tightly onto each time he left me lost and bereft.

For all the times he had left me standing there with my heart in my hands – ripped raw out of my chest.

And I would like and tell myself that the choice was mine – I could walk away any day, any time.

It was the last sliver of dignity I had been clinging onto in the wake of the silence he kept long and strung between us.

Until now.

Until I said them loud and unwaveringly clear – hardly able to believe the words were falling out of my mouth.

But there they were -  hanging in the air.

Loud, heavy, clear.

And I had never believed in the more.

I don’t intend on loving you any longer, Loki.

Odin’s eyes narrowed on me, warily – filled with rousing suspicion.

His expression heavily guarded.

He looked at me like I as an untamed dog, frothing at the mouth, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Though, I suppose, he wouldn’t have been quite far off the mark.

Even the entire hall seemed to wait with bated breath – anticipating the next insult I would hurl at those of royal lineage.

It would have been almost comical – a Midgardian girl reducing all the immortals before her into scandalised shell-shocked silence with a shelling.

Almost.

“Then what is it you intend on doing?” he questioned, brusquely.

There it was – the question I knew was coming.

The answer I knew I had to give.

I swallowed.

A thud in my chest.

“I intend on…,” I started to say, trying to grasp onto all the liquid courage that had been running in my veins just minutes ago.

But the words dried up.

Felt like silt in my throat.

Dread in my belly.

The brackets around Odin’s mouth deepened – a sign that I was trying what little patience he had left for me.

“… leaving,” I finished, the word leaving my lips in almost nothing but a whisper.

Dissipating in the air.

But he caught it.

“What?” he breathed.

A stumble.

Disbelief.  

And I felt his eyes burn my skin.

But still I didn’t look at him.

Not even when the single syllable sounded so lost, so small– it was enough to put a lump in my throat. One that ached so much, my fingers itched to reach for my throat to hold it down.

Till it stopped feeling like every single word out of it would be cracked and broken.

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I steadied myself – let out a long, controlled breath as I held no one else but Odin in view.

Blocked it all out.

Pushed him away until the only thing I could focus on was mapping out my strategy to get the hell out of here.

“I--,” I started once more, testing the waters.

Feeling the firm weight of the word on my tongue.

Holding my voice firm.

Holding my heart down.

“I intend on leaving,” I finally pushed out.

The final word – a bite of bitterness.

So convincingly, the little voice in my head mocked.

No.

He didn’t have to say it.

I didn’t have to look at him.

But that single word of protest grew and grew – filling up the space between us, pushing us further than we had ever been apart.

A loud laugh of disbelief cut through the air.

Ehrendil.

“You intend on leaving?” he repeated, slowly and incredulously – clearly, the most ludicrous thing to have come from me the entire night.

I was forced to turn back to him – sucking in a breath as they dying embers of anger sparked back to life in the face of his arrogance.

How could anyone hate a stranger so much with no ground to stand on?

The downward curve of his lips and the distasteful scrunch of his nose – all in disapproval of me. All earned from nothing else but my existence.

His eyes narrowed.

“You…,” he hissed, venomously.

My hands clenched into fists.

“You think this child’s play?” he snapped, arms flung wide at the very public stage I had decided to pick my battles on.

I gritted my teeth.

It appeared – he wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

“Did you think you could escape unscathed?” he boomed, eyes flashing in anger.

There was a time when I would have felt my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Felt cold sweat cover clammy hands.

Tremble in front of such intimidating presence.

Eyes turned feverishly to him in search for answers.

Assurance.

But this time, there was none of that to be found.

A strange sense of calmness settling in the hollow of my chest.

As if nothing else quite seemed to exist in the space left in the wake of my decision.

I turned my attention to Halwen.

Her eyes darting about wildly like an animal cornered.

Do you see this, Loki? Do you see your beloved princess falling from grace in front of your very own eyes?

The bitter words echoed on the tip of my tongue.

Its tang, once sharp now reduced to nothing but a dull thud lying flat in the cave of my mouth.

I couldn’t help but feel a prick of pity for her.

This was how she had chosen to live.

“I think…,” I started to say, softly – my words seemingly addressed to Ehrendil, but it was startling clear to whom I was speaking to.

She leaned forward ever so slightly, ears pricked as her eyes tried to focus haphazardly on me.

“… you will find that it is in the best interests of everyonethat I return to Midgard,” I finished with a slight downward tilt of my chin as she met my gaze filled with intent.

Her lips parted.

And I couldn’t help but press on.

“Lest I should… run my mouth further on things I should not be commenting… frostilyabout,” I decided to throw in.

Perhaps a little juvenile.

Perhaps a little under the belt.

But it did the trick.

The flicker of recognition in her eyes morphed into a blanket of terror.

I could have sworn she choked.

My eyes flickered instinctively towards Odin and Frigga – wondering if they had heard and interpreted the intention behind my words.

It was a bold move considering if they called my bluff – I knew I wouldn’t push through with it.

Even if it meant that I would lose my chance at freedom.

I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t tear Loki down and expose his most feared secret in front of everyone. No, this was a battle he was going to have to fight on his own. On his own terms.

But they didn’t know that.

As far as they were concerned, I was nothing more than a bratty little Midgardian who seemed to have a penchant for running her mouth afoul and it wouldn’t be above me to let loose information that could potentially wreck their alliance.

And for a second, just for a second, I saw the effect of my words.

Saw the crack it made in their surface of calmness.

Got a glimpse into the nerve I had struck.

I drew in a deep breath.

This could work.

I tried to still the slight shake of my hand – the bravado now wearing a little thin.

“Fa—father…,” Halwen started to say, shakily.

This was her last chance at getting a shot at Loki and this entire hullabaloo. Once the cat was out of the bag, there was no way in hell her father would allow their family name to be sullied by Frost Giants.

I’d never had proper interaction with one – well, save for Loki and that really wasn’t saying much in their favour to begin with – but judging from the way they were treating humans like second, scratch that, third class citizens, one could only imagine the sort of havoc he would wreck here in Asgard.

Ehrendil shot her a withering glare and you could see her visibly shrink back into her seat.

“What other travesties could this Midgardian wench possibly spew?” he snarled, whipping his attention back towards me.

Unhinged.

Like an uncaged tiger.

Ready to pounce.

“Fa—father, if she were to re—return to Midgard, all will be as it wa--,” Halwen had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when his face darkened.

He whirled around and his glower was enough to put a stop to it.

“If she were to return to Midgard? If?” he repeated, his voice a rising, angry tenor.

Her face crumbled – almost admitting defeat before she had barely begun.

Gee, wonder what sort of childhood that must have been like for her.

“If we allow her to walk away today unscathed – ifword gets out that we do not punish severely those who dare look upon us with such insolence and impertinence, we will no longer be beings to be revered,” he bellowed.

And it was back to the drawing board.

His pride.

“Odin, is this how you would allow your guests to be treated?” he pursued, eyes filled with animosity now as they turned to his Asgardian counterpart.

Odin’s face was grim – lips pressed together so tightly, a line was all to be seen.

His eyes were cold and calculating – racing to assess the situation.

Frigga placed her hand gently on his forearm – a reassuring gesture.

But one that apparently irked Ehrendil.

“Well… ?” he challenged Odin’s silence, brusquely.

His features pinched and sharp.

“King Ehrendil, please, for--,” Odin began to speak, or rather, should I say grovel – except he was saved from the horror and shame of having to do so.

“She’s my guest too,” Loki cut in, unexpectedly.

I had to do a double take.

I had thought he would have done what he had done best all this while – kept his silence.

And tried as I might – I couldn’t help but feel a tingle in my chest.

That, however, had quite the opposite effect on Ehrendil whose face darkened.

“You!” he spat out, accusingly, eyes narrowing.

Like a shark looking for its next prey.

“You have no say in such matters,” he growled.

And there was blood in the water.

“I have no say in the matter?” Loki, scoffed.

An eyebrow arched – his tone deliberately mocking as if Ehrendil had the mental capacity of a teaspoon.

“I beg to differ. The last I recall, we are precisely at this farce of a dinner because I did not wish to wed your daughter. I’d say there is plenty for me to say about the matter,” he threw back.

A little too smoothly.

A little too eloquently.

It did nothing but stroke the fires of rage higher in Ehrendil.

“Then you are a fool,” he spat out venomously at Loki.

He gestured towards Halwen.

“You would give up the glory and recognition that would come from binding our name to your family?” he questioned, his voice so full and swollen with arrogance.

All that stemmed merely from birthright.

And there it was.

He halted.

If only for a second.

But it was enough.

That was the chink in his armour.

That little waver of uncertainty that was enough to cut through his conviction thus far of not marrying Halwen.

Because it was no longer about her – it was about the power and acceptance her hand in marriage would bring.

And somehow, standing in the warm glow of the Hall, with his shoulders set back and his chin tilted upwards in defiance – was the Prince I had first met a long, long time ago.

Before I knew him.

Knew all his fears, insecurities, and the desperate need for acceptance.

Before he knew me.

Knew all my worries, self-doubt, and craving for love so intimately.

Before I had told him I love him.

Before this hollow pang in my chest that came in the wake of his silence.

And Halwen saw right through it all.

An opportunity.

“Loki…,” she pleaded, her voice small and sweet – begging for his attention.

He looked over at her – eyes hazy and unfocused as if he had just spent an eternity wrestling for an answer to Ehrendil’s question.

I wondered who it was he saw sitting there, quivering in her seat.

Was it still the same girl with hair like sunshine he had thought himself in love with?

“W—we could put everything behind us. Ca—carry on as we did before,” she stammered.

No.

That word clanged hollowly inside of me.

“Can we?” he echoed, mindlessly.

The words carrying no weight – floating in the air.

I swallowed.

She nodded her head, fervently.

His response spurring her into action as she leaned forward, eyes sparked bright and face animated once more.

“We can send the Midgardian home and all will be as it was before,” she scrambled, seizing whatever small lifeline he had thrown to her end.

Her voice a little shaky, a little nervous – but there was no mistaking her intention.

His eyes narrowed on her.

Ears pricked.

“As long as we are married, as long as we are able to form an alliance…,” she said, her hand sweeping wide to gesture at her father and Odin.

“… the Midgardian is inconsequential,” she finished with a slight nod of her head.

I had to bite down on my tongue.

Hard.

Inconsequential?

We’ll see how inconsequential I am when I’m stuffing your spleen down your throat.

And in case we didn’t hear the underlying meaning in her words the first time, she reiterated.

“She would be free to return to Midgard,” she stressed, eyes flickering towards me.

There was no mistaking the thinly veiled threat.

The exchange she was speaking of.

“You conniving little bitch!” I spat out, unable to hold it in any longer.

God, if I could, I would fling myself across the table and pluck every single pretty strand of hair from her head.

One by one.

But before I could get another word in, he cut me off.

“Enough,” he bit out, coldly.

A pause.

Long and strung out.

I looked at him – eyes wide and filled with incredulity.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

I wanted to scream and shake him.

There was no way in hell he was contemplating what it was she was suggesting.

But he turned to look at me, slowly.

Softly.

Gently.

And I was already shaking my head before his lips could even part.

Could even say what I knew was dancing on the very tip of his tongue.

I grabbed his forearm, nails digging in.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned.

And suddenly, I found myself blinking furiously.

Eyes shiny and bright.

Trying to keep the tears in.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I hissed, tightening my grip.

He faltered.

Lost and raw.

His lips parted.

“Listen…” he started to say, voice cracking.

And I just about lost it.

“No, you listen,” I snarled, so forcefully, he flinched.

I yanked at his arms, eyes searching his desperately as I scrambled to make him see.

Make him understand.

“Don’t do it for me. Do it because you want the power. Do it because you want the acceptance. Hell, do it because you still want h--…” I seethed, suddenly stopping short.

Want her.

That was what I had wanted to say.

Except, the words dried in my mouth.

Got stuck in my throat.

And the very thought of him still wanting her was like a hand around my heart – squeezing it tight.

“… her…” I managed to choke out.

“But…” he started to protest.

I shook my head.

“I would rather never return to Earth than to be used as a manipulation tactic,” I fumed.

He wanted to object.

Wanted to fight me on this.

I could see it in his eyes.

Please no, I mouthed.

See the worry and the frustration there all too blindingly well.

“Please, no,” I whispered, voice straining.

And then his eyes softened.

The tenderness that filled them – arresting.

I could barely breathe.

But he knew.

Even if he didn’t like it, he knew.

The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly.

So weakly.

“Okay…” he whispered.

Okay.

The lump in my throat moved.

But before either of us could get another word in, Ehrendil swept in.

“It is settled then!” he announced, abruptly – cutting our tender moment short.

As we both turned back towards him, a furrow settled between Loki’s brows.

“What is settled?” he demanded to know.

Ehrendil scowled.

“The betrothal…” he seethed, before looking at me, pointedly.

“… in exchange for the Midgardian’s safe passage back,” he warned.

Are you fucking kidding me?

It was one thing to be arrogant, but to so blatantly disregard someone else’s decision… man, if I had thought of wanting to pull the stick out of his ass before, I wanted nothing more than to put my foot up it right now.

“I would rather starve to death here,” I spat back.

And I had the pleasure of seeing his eyes narrow in fury as they locked onto me – a growl escaping from his lips.

“Then so be your death wish,” he sneered.

And just as I was about to taunt him – about to throw back that there was nothing more insufferable than being in his company – Odin interjected.

“With all due respect, King Ehrendil – my son has not agreed to enter this union with your daughter,” he announced.

His words were polite – but his tone, a warning.

Oh.

I looked over at Loki who sported an equally puzzled expression at his father’s sudden defense of him.

First came a hazy glaze over Ehrendil’s face as if trying to decipher the situation – trying to make sense of the words.

His bottom lip quivered.

Lips parted.

And that was when it hit him.

“Do you not seek to make amends, Odin?” he growled.

His brows furrowed – his lips turned up in almost a perpetual sneer.

“I seek to keep the peace between both our kingdoms, King Ehrendil,” Odin appealed.

That appeared to appease him.

A little.

“Then we are of one mind,” Ehrendil declared, to which Odin gave a nod of acquiescence.

A pause.

Then, a smile cracked across Ehrendil’s face before he threw his hands in the air and let out a hearty laugh.

“Then I seenothing standing in the way of this betrothal,” he declared, and I had a good mind to smack him on the upside of his head and ask if he was blind.

Hello?

Nothing?

We are standing right here in front of you.

Odin hesitated.

His shoulders tensed.

And Queen Frigga saw it as her cue to jump in.

“King Ehrendil,” she greeted, a slight bow of her head in respect.

His eyes moved towards her.

“Perhaps these are matters best spoken and sorted out amongst the younger ones… in private?” she put forth, graciously.

His face immediately darkened.

“Should matters of the kingdom not be heard by the people, Queen Frigga?” he challenged.

Odin moved to place his hand atop Frigga’s – a scowl gracing his face.

A storm brewing.

“You speak of keeping peace – but you are courting a war,” Ehrendil growled.

“I do not seek war – but I will not allow my arm to be twisted. Not on Asgard,” Odin snapped.

Ehrendil’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Is that a threat, Allfather?” he thundered, glowering.

“It is a reminder, King Ehrendil, that this is Asgard and your men are but a few,” Odin cautioned.

The entire room immediately tensed.

There was no drawing of weapons and no clashing of swords but I would have been a fool not to have noticed how Ehrendil’s men suddenly stood to attention – hands reaching for their sheath.

Grim faces.

Held breaths.

Almost as if a single exhale would be enough to tip the scales.

Queen Frigga leaned in to whisper into Odin’s ear – presumable something along the lines of calm the fuck down.

But he raised a hand to quiet her warning.

This was not a God to be trifled with.

Not especially when his kingdom was under threat.

“You would take me captive?” Ehrendil questioned, angrily.

“I would take you as Asgard’s honoured guests,” Odin retaliated.

“You would have me and my daughter stand for such humiliation?” Ehrendil snarled.

“We would have you and your daughter extend to our son the graciousness your people are said to have run in their blood,” Queen Frigga interjected.

Possibly worried her equally hot-headed husband would say something far more regrettable.

That gave him cause for pause.

It was a cleverly worded sentence, I’d give her that.

It was both a warning and stage for a gracious exit she had built for him to take.

What more in front of others?

To take the exit so gracefully handed to him would be for others to see how magnanimous he was – but to go to war over a broken betrothal would reek of pettiness.

Childishness.

His eyes narrowed briefly on Frigga – seeing through her ploy.

A ruse it may be – but it worked.

The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly as she bowed her head down once more.

Perhaps it was the slight slacking of his jaw or the dulling of the rage in his eyes – but she could see it was a battle more than half won.

More than half.

But still, we weren’t out of the woods just yet.

His eyes flickered towards me, a scowl slashed across his face.

“What of the Midgardian?” he questioned, addressing the elephant in the room.

I straightened my back, shoulders tensing as I braced myself.

I hadn’t expected an easy way out.

Hell, I would be lucky if the only thing they decided to do with me was to throw me into a dark cell.

Odin turned to look at me, slowly.

He didn’t seem all too pleased.

Being called out on being a bad parent, apparently, wasn’t the best way to get into his good graces.

Loki started.

“Father…” his voice low and cautionary.

But Odin’s hand shot up, putting a stop to anything else Loki had to say.

His face was grim – lips pressed together tightly as if reluctant to pass a verdict.

Instinctively, Loki looked over to Frigga – lips parted.

And I didn’t even need to see his face to know that the silent plea that resonated in the single word he mouthed: “Mother”.

She grimaced, a slight tilt of her chin acknowledging his ask for help.

Her eyes passed over me and I felt a strange lump lodge in the back of my throat.

While there was no hostility – there was no approval to be found there either.

Only a glimmer of kindness and compassion.

Empathy.

But that was more than enough for me.

She cleared her throat.

“King Ehrendil,” she began, gingerly, wary of poking the sleeping bear.

He looked over to her, his eyes narrowing in displeasure as her voice gave way to her intention.

She took his silence as a means to forge forwards.

“Let us not allow anymore seeds of discord to be sown between us. As she has expressed her wish to lea—” she started to reason, but he cut her off, abruptly.

“With all due respect, Queen Frigga, this is an answer I require from…” he bit out, trailing off as his eyes moved to lock on Odin.

“… the rulerof Asgard,” he finished, rudely brushing Frigga aside.

Venom piercing into every word.

He may have acquiesced everything else prior, but it was clear his anger was still bubbling close to the surface.

He needed something to appease it.

A sacrificial lamb of sorts.

Me.

Frigga paused, her hand lowering to rest gingerly on Odin’s arm as he locked eyes with Ehrendil.

“I would advise you choose your next words wisely and carefully, Allfather,” Ehrendil taunted, the corners of his mouth lifting in a perverse smug smile.

A calculated move.

He had weighed his options thoroughly – knowing it would reflect poorly on Asgard if they didn’t meet him halfway after he had conceded the first half of the battle.

Impending dread filled my chest as my feet were rooted to the spot.

“Very well,” Odin replied with a tilt of his chin.

Ehrendil’s smile widened.

“Father,” Loki moved to protest.

But it was of no use.

“Thor,” Odin commanded, ignoring the plea.

And the figure that had remained mostly silent throughout this entire charade suddenly moved to life.

“Father?” Thor echoed, puzzled that his name would even enter the equation.

Odin spared him a glance, pausing.

His brows furrowed and expression grim.

“As the leader of our army…” Odin began only for Loki to interrupt.

“Father,” he barged in, voice low – the rising note of worry building into a lump in the back of my throat.

A split second pause.

The furrow between Odin’s brows deepening as he let out a long exhale, barely sparing Loki a glance.

My heart sank.

Not so much for the sentence that I knew was coming, but for the way Loki was once again, brushed aside.

“… you are to escort the Midgardian t—” he started to order when he was cut off.

“You neverlisten,” Loki bellowed.

His rage and frustration – so raw and palpable, I couldn’t help but torn to look at him.

There he was.

Red spreading across his skin like wildfire – eyes bright and shiny from all the years of rejection culminated into this very moment.

His chest rising and falling with the exertion.

The frustration.

His uncontained vulnerability.

Spilling out.

For me.

My throat moved.

Odin looked at him – face awash in disapproval as he raised a brow slightly.

“… to Heimdall…” he pressed on.

“Wh—what?” Loki stumbled.

Heimdall?

What was that? Some sort of name they had given their dungeons?

I glanced over at Loki for answers – but he seemed too stunned. Rooted in his place, blinking at Odin.

Oh God. Maybe Heimdall is the name of their executioner.

That would explain why Loki had suddenly turned three shades paler than his usual pasty self.

His expression wasn’t exactly the most reassuring.

“What?” Ehrendil thundered.

I looked over at him.

And he was livid.

Nearly frothing at the mouth, really.

He sent a goblet clattering across the floor.

Oh.

I looked around in bewilderment, not entirely sure what the fuck was going on and nobody seemed to be gracious enough to explain to me.

Until my eyes settled on a pair of twinkling blue ones that echoed with a similar and nostalgic spark of mischievousness.

Perhaps there was a bond of brotherhood after all.

“Heimdall is the Gatekeeper,” Thor murmured.

“Riiight,” I nodded, as if that was supposed to make any sense.

“What does that even me--?” I started to ask, but Ehrendil’s roar cut short whatever clarity I was searching for.

“You would darelet her go in my presence?” he demanded, furiously.

Odin glared at him – straightening his back and squaring his chest.

“I would, as ruler of Asgard,” he growled back.

It was synonymous to a slap across Ehrendil’s face who stood there, frozen – as if unable to quite believe the blow he had been dealt.

Before he could react, Odin turned back to us, eyes flashing with anger and impatience.

“Thor, did you not hear me?” he snapped.

“Ye—yes, Father,” Thor stumbled, rising to his feet, clumsily.

“As your King, I command you to escort the Midgardian to Heimdall where she shall return to Midgard…” he barked, pausing to shift his attention to me.

His eyes narrowed.  

There was no mistaking that his next few words were directed at me.

“… and neverbeallowed to return to Asgard,” he finished, with a warning curl of his bottom lip.

I swallowed, palms balmy as I swayed slightly on my feet.

He raised his chin, his gaze stormy and penetrating.

This was make or break.

“Is that understood?” he asked.

The question was seemingly directed at Thor, but his eyes spoke otherwise.

I nodded.

Barely discernible.

Throat parched.

But the message was sent.

And he gave a gruff grunt in acknowledgement.

If I could have breathed a sigh of relief, I would have.

My shoulders sagged forward and my lips curved up into a smile.

Perhaps, he wasn’t too bad after all.

And for a second, just for a second, I couldn’t help but hope Loki would be able to mend the rift between him and Odin.

I still didn’t care too much for him and he could definitely use a read or two from How To Communicate for Dummies – but it was obvious he cared.

I knew he couldn’t care less what sorry fate befell me and the only reason he was sticking out his neck and risking the wrath of the pompous King he had spent years butter up to was because Loki had asked.

Had begged on my behalf.

But before I could look at Loki – look at him and tell him gently that it was going to be alright.

Look at him and feel my heart surge tenderly in my chest, a loud roar of rage disrupted the air.

“You would disrespect me as such?” Ehrendil bellowed, lunging forward in my direction.

His facial features contorted in anger.

It didn’t matter that his hands hit an obstruction or that the entire table was between us.

He looked feral.

His guards started to move forwards, the sound of swords being drawn from their sheath filling the air and I flinched.

Stumbled clumsily.

Only to be yanked backwards as Loki placed himself in front of me.

Shielding me – fingers still wrapped around my wrist.

“Lo—Loki…” I stammered, his name suddenly feeling like a safe prayed on my lips as his shoulder tensed – standing guard.

“Thor,” Odin barked as Thor moved towards Loki, forming a line of defense.

My other hand reached out instinctively to clasp the hand Loki still had on my wrist.

And even though my heart was pounding in my chest and my head was throbbing from the overwhelming intensity of the situation – I had never felt safer.

Seeing his back turned towards me – the slight glimpse of his profile as he moved his head left and right.

Tensed.

On guard.

Ready to strike at any sudden movement.

Protecting me.

“You have your orders – take her!” Odin thundered as we began to retreat.

Slowly.

Gingerly.

Asgardian guards slowly coming to our aid – flanking us.

Ehrendil turned towards Odin – eyes alight with spite.

Frigga arose carefully.

Taking her place beside her husband.

“If I were you – I would think very carefully of the consequences your actions will yield,” Ehrendil sneered.

Odin’s eyes flared.

He did not take to threats lightly.

“I have done so – thoroughly. And I have given my orders,” Odin barked.

Ehrendil gritted his teeth – glaring at him.

“Guards…” he called out.

And his soldiers moved to life upon the command – slowly encroaching upon us.

Our backs were turned towards the entrance – a slow retreat still as Asgardian guards began forming a barricade between us.

It was like a game of cat and mouse.

Odin’s eyes flickered towards us.

Almost.

Almost.

I whipped my head around, heart in my throat as escape came within grasp.

So close.

“I believe it is you who will need to think very carefully of the consequences your actions will yield,” Odin warned.

A scowl in return.

“Yes, it appears that Asgardians excel in delivering threats to their… guests,” he mocked with a sweep of his arm.

Odin clicked his tongue – cocking his head to the side.

“You mistake an amicable reminder for a threat, old friend,” he admonished.

Ehrendil scoffed.

“I have made no such mistake and you are laying waste to years of friendship. You do not want to be courting this enemy,” Ehrendil warned in return.

Odin shook his head.

“Is there a need for this? She is but a Midgardian who has spoken out of her place – surely your reputation should withstand the few jabs of a sharp tongue? Does she warrant warfare and the destruction of truce between both our kingdoms?” Odin appealed.

“She does not offend me – her words do not carry weight. But rather, it is yourreluctance in conceding her as a peace offering to appease my anger that insults me. First, the breaking of the betrothal. Then, the insolence of a Midgardian – neither of which I had found satisfaction in. If you cannot bring yourself to sacrifice a mere Midgardian to uphold the truce – why should I?” Ehrendil hissed.

“New alliances and bonds may be forged in the place of broken ones. But there is noreturn from the suffering that will befall our kingdoms should we go to war, old friend. My army, I warn, will not be lesser rivals to yours. It is a war that neither of us will win,” Odin persuaded.

A grimace on Ehrendil’s face.

It was the truth.

The hard truth that wrestled with his pride and ego.

But it was enough for Odin who saw a crack in his façade – an opportunity to take the last shot.

“Should word transpire that the suffering we would have brought upon our people was sparked by a Midgardian – by inconsequential words – surely, we would be trifled as rulers and despised as kings,” Odin pushed on.

A pause.

A tic in Ehrendil’s jaw.

“Brother…” Thor whispered, his stance low and hunched.

As if ready to pounce at the sound of a pin dropping.

“… if things go south, you take her and flee to Heimdall. I will hold off the pompous King and his minions with my guards,” he muttered.

Oh, Thor.

And even though the words were said for my benefit, it was Loki they hit the hardest.

He froze.

A sharp intake of breath.

And he turned his face away briefly.

It was hard on him – trying to reconcile all his years of envy and neglect with his deep-seated need for a genuine bond with his brother.

I wanted to tell him it was okay.

It was okay to let Thor in.

It was okay to have his brother.

It was okay to be… loved.

Thor glanced over – puzzled at the silence.

“We may have had our squabbles, but do not fight me on this, brother,” he said, misinterpreting the situation.

“Who said anything about fighting you on this?” Loki shot back, the words yanking him back from his momentary lapse in concentration.

“Loki…” I muttered, and if I could kick him in the shins, I would have.

He turned around – shooting me a glare, as if annoyed that we would have the audacity to think he was capable of being worried for Thor’s safety.

“Far be it from me to detract from his act of heroism and suicide mission,” he rebuked.

I opened my mouth – stinging words at the ready to take him down a peg or two but we were yanked back to reality.

“Come, old friend, let us not waste another breath on such trivialities when we should be in talks of forming new alliances. She will be sent back to Midgard and be done with it!” Odin said.

Ehrendil raised a brow.

“What of such new alliances?” he questioned, his guard still high up.

Odin paused.

“There are other… resources beyond marriage, which you will find of… want,” he relented, his voice measured.

That did the trick.

Ehrendil’s ears pricked.

And he struggled to maintain his unimpressed façade.

But would it be enough?

He pursed his lips.

And I held my breath.

“Your decision?” Odin pursued.

Ehrendil cast a striking glare at me.

“Guards…” he commanded.

His eyes narrowed.

And there so much spite and brutal contempt in them, I couldn’t help but feel a shiver down my spine.

I squeezed Loki’s hand.

“Fall back”.

It was a long and quiet walk to the bridge we had first arrived at.

Once Ehrendil had given us the clear, there were no obstacles standing in our path as both he and Odin adjourned to a quieter space to discuss the new alliances they would form and the resources that they would share – although, it appeared the exchange would be heavily in Ehrendil’s favour.

We filed a singular line.

Thor leading the pack as Loki guarded our flank – mistrustful of Ehrendil still.

What else was there to say?

My mind raced as I tried to cram every single detail of what we had been through into the last few ticking minutes we had together.

Oh.

My heart stung.

As we crossed the rainbow bridge – the one Thor referred to as the Bifrost Bridge – I looked around.

Taking it all in.

Drinking in the light and the water and the infrastructure that were all otherworldly to me.

It’s beautiful.

The vastness and intricacies of this other world.

If only there was some way to capture some of its magic – of stowing away some of its ethereal light for me to look back upon when my days were dark.

And there would be dark ones.

Dark, cold, empty ones.

My chest felt hollowed out – all the adrenaline and courage that had been coursing through my body and filling my heart during the standoff now drained away.

I will never see this again.

The thought rang out loud and sudden inside my head.

I will never see him again.

It thudded inside my chest.

Raw.

Dead.

But before I could turn around to take a look at the dour-faced green-eyed Prince, we stopped.

Right outside this huge golden dome.

“We have arrived,” Thor announced, a little too chirpily.

I nodded my head – voice stuck in my throat.

As if I had ran out of words after that intense exchange with Odin and Ehrendil.

I looked at Thor – his smile wide across his face. So sunny, so bright, so cheerful – for a split second, I wondered what it would have been like if he had been the one sent to Earth instead.

“Heimdall awaits inside,” he prompted.

I tilted my chin forward in acknowledgement.

“Can you… give us a moment?” I asked, softly.

Weakly.

He paused, eyes flitting to look at the figure behind me for a second.

And realization dawned.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ll… erm… I will speak with Heimdall,” he announced, clumsily.

I gave him a weak smile – partly in amusement as he clunkily made his absence.

The smile plastered across my face – as if the outer corners were held up by puppet strings – until Thor’s shadow disappeared from sight.

And then it fell.

Be brave.

Be brave.

Be brave.

Those were the two words I kept repeating over and over again in my head.

As if they would have been enough to brainwash the heartache I had always envisioned would come with this moment.

I took in a deep breath.

This would be the last time I would be speaking with him, seeing him – this was notthe time to freeze.

“I guess… this is it?” I said, trying to make light of the situation as I turned around, slowly.

Except my voice was cracking.

Cracking and cracking.

Like the miserable existence I felt just standing there.

Just standing in front of him.

And God, as I turned around and saw him – bathed in the beautifully ethereal golden light of Asgard – my heart broke.

This wasit.

The moment I had feared and embraced all at once.

“Don’t go,” he said, softly.

So soft, I could have imagined them.

But there he was, swaying ever so slightly on his feet – looking at me as if I was taking part of his world away.

“You know I have to,” I said, voice croaking.

Even that lacked conviction.

Because what else was I supposed to say? What else could I say when the person I love was standing there – looking at me like that – asking me not to go?

When the only thing I wanted to do was to run into his arms?

And so, I turned to the only thing I could.

The only thing that would prevent me from dissolving into a huge weeping mess.

“Loki, I…” I started to say and his ears pricked.

Light briefly entering his eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, voice picking up a notch.

And I knew he wasn’t going to like what I was about to say.

Not one bit.

But it had to be said.

It was either now or never.

“Make amends with your… brother and father,” I said, softly.

Pushing the words out.

“Wh—what?” he stumbled, blinking.

The sentence clearly completely different from what he had been expecting.

“Make amends with your… br—” I began to repeat myself but he cut me off with scowl.

“I heard you the first time,” he said, gruffly, brushing me off.

But I was undeterred.

I needed him to know.

Wanted to be sure.

You’ll have someone with you after I’m gone.

“The events today should have shown you that they caredeeply for you,” I pursued, much to his annoyance.

He shot me a glare.

Crossed his arms over his chest as he squared his shoulders.

Gearing up for a fight.

“The events today would not have transpired if Odin had not conveniently used me as a bargaining chip without even disclosing my identity to begin with – something youwould know very well off,” he retorted – pointing to the moment in which I had used his secret identity as leverage.

I flinched.

I couldn’t help it.

Even when I knew he didn’t mean them.

When he had said those words out of retaliation.

Out of anger.

I paused, eyes flickering downwards.

My heart hurting that he had thought even remotely for a second that I would have gone through with it.

“I wouldn’t have done it, you know…” I said, softly.

Silence.

I looked up, wondering if he had heard me.

He did.

His expression – soft and tender.

All the animosity and sharp edges bleeding away.

Until nothing but warm honey pooled between us.

“I know…” he whispered.

My eyes widened.

I swallowed.

“Do you?” I couldn’t help but ask, the words slipping out so gently and effortlessly.

Heart hanging onto the desperate need for validation.

His eyes softened.

Lips pressed together as he tilted his chin downwards.

“Yes,” he yielded.

The corners of his lips lifting into a soft, wan smile.

“You don’t know how else to love me,” he said, tenderly.

So selflessly.

So utterly.

He knew.

God, he knew.

At least there was that.

And the lump that he had put in my throat bubbled up.

“Ca—can we…” I started to say, but choked.

My chest tightened.

“Ca—can we not spend our last fe—few minutes fighting? Please? I rasped out.

I couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

I searched his eyes.

Desperate.

Pleading.

And finally, he relented.

Nodding, the smile disappearing.

Sadness settling into all the nooks and crannies of his face – seeping out of his skin.

I grabbed his hand.

Squeezed it.

Held it tight.

I didn’t care any longer.

There were no restrictions.

Not in this moment.

“Listen to me, Loki. Please,” I begged.

Needy.

Whiny.

And he looked at me with eyes soft and yielding.

A deep breath.

“You knowI can’t stand Odin – God, if I could go back in time to say all those words I had said, I would. You know,” I swore, fingers curling over his hand.

So hard, nails dug into the flesh.

“But he caresfor you,” I reasoned and tried as he might, he couldn’t stop the distaste from sparking in his eyes.

His hand went slack – pulling away.

I reached out.

Held on.

Pulled back.

Refusing to let him distance himself.

He looked at me – eyes searching my face.

Fervently.

Intimately.

Silence stretched out between us.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

The question hanging softly in the air.

His eyes wide and raw and vulnerable and I wanted nothing more in this world than to tell him how much I love him.

God, do I love him.

“To stop pretending to be somebody else,” I whispered.

The words slipping out so quietly, so effortless from my lips before I could stop them.

They hollowed me out.

He froze.

Like freezing water to his face.

But there was no going back now.

I squeezed his hand.

Held it a little tighter.

Held it a little longer.

Stepped in closer.

So close until I could almost imagine his breath on my face.

See the dull throbbing of pain behind his eyes.

Trace all the lines of sadness on his face.

I trembled.

My bottom lip quivering.

“I want you to stop pretending to be somebody else,” I repeated, voice shaking, and I had to stop myself.

Calm myself.

A deep breath.

Filling my lungs, flushing my cheeks.

“I want you to stop craving the acceptance of everyone else,” I pleaded.

Unintentionally.

I choked – words swallowed by the sting in my throat and the acridity that flooded my mouth.

“Why?” he breathed.

Don’t you know?

I blinked.

Tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You didn’t need it for me to love you…” I whispered.

So gently.

So delicately.

Like glass on the verge of being shattered.

He sucked in a breath.

Corners of his lips lifting in a sad smile.

Eyes shiny and bright.

Unshed tears.

This was it.

This was goodbye.

“I could… I could come visit,” he said, softly.

Tenderly.

Gingerly.

And my heart swelled.

So much I feared my chest could barely contain it.

But I shook my head, sadly.

“No, please don't,” I pleaded.

But it came out wrong.

A little too forceful.

A little too harshly.

It wounded him.

“I—I can—can’t. It… it would cause me pain,” I stumbled, scrambling to find the words that would make sense to him.

His hand reached out – his finger gently brushing away another tear.

I gasped – a sob suddenly choked out of me.

And I closed my eyes.

Wanted to remember this.

Wanted it to be this way forever.

“This. Me. You. Me loving you. You… you not knowing what to do with it…” I whispered, words coming out in a jumble.

Breath short and sharp.

And when I finally opened my eyes, there they were.

His beautiful green eyes staring back at me.

“It… causes me pain,” I breathed.

His pressed his lips together.

Grim.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss away the shadow between his brows.

Take away his worries.

And when he opened his mouth, I shook my head.

“Don’t say words you don’t mean…” I said, lips tasting salt.

He cupped my cheek.

The warmth of his skin against mine.

And even after all this time, it was enough to make my heart stop.

Make it stop bleeding.

I wanted to say.

He nodded.

“I--…” he started to say, only to pause.

An unspoken question lingering in the air.

“Hmm?” I whispered, breath hanging onto his every word.

His eyes raw and vulnerable.

“Did I… did I make you happy?” he asked.

Softly.

Tenderly.

The indent of worry in his voice.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh God.

My lips parted.

My heart shattering into a tiny little million pieces.

And the tears came.

Hard and fast.

Hot and scalding.

Even as they dripped down my chin.

I thought back to everything we had been through.

All the laughter.

All the teasing.

All the intimacy.

All the tears.

All the heartbreak.

All the moments I had found… myself.

He was nothing but blurred lines.

I turned around.

Shoulders shaking as I clamped my hand over my mouth.

Trying to stop the sobs from taking over.

Trying to stop my heart from hurting.

Goodbye, Loki.

“Yes.”

Goodbye.

And then I ran forward.

[thetruthaboutlovecomesat3am]

Hi! In C9 of HTLAW, it was mentioned that Laurel has been crushing on Ava. Were there previous mentions or insinuations about this prior to C9? I like the idea! I was just caught off guard because I have missed any clues and I I feel like I should reread haha! Love your works ❤❤

Aahhh thank you!! There’s some mention of it when they meet, Sara sees Lauren’s very taken with Ava and her work and later she thinks about how Laurel “liked her a bit too much” so it was definitely subtle and mainly because I thought it’d be hilarious... the Lances are drawn to the same people after all 🤣🤓

[mcaelius]

<- when i say cicero i mean. '''''cicero'''''. because that old man technically does not exist there

[mcaelius]

[winterheart17]

How To Make A Writer Snap

TITLE OF STORY: How To Make A Writer Snap

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 28

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None for this!

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Finally back after a hiatus! There’s not long now till this series ends and all I can say is, boy, oh, boy, it was difficult wading back into the writing pool, but I hope I made all of you proud of Little Writer this chapter! Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or off the tag list.

Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilerss @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96  @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditemm @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening@wildest-dreams-at-midnight @tfwqueenidjit @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @noplacelikehome77 @vertdragain  @jessiejunebug @toaster-strudel-witch @a7xlizardqueen @starscreamloki @tinchentitri @prettyjewel93@chantimoondancer @dangertoozmanykids101 @winterisakiller @humbleslvt @aeciru @paanchu786

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

“And was it a misunderstanding when Halwen delivered the news to me – the breaking of the betrothal… a treaty years in the making – instigated by your son, Loki, with no other explanation other than a… Midgardian girl is involved?”

He said the word Midgardian with so much vile contempt, I couldn’t help but flinch.

Right.

Well… if that wasn’t some whole new level arrogant ass bullshit I had to just sit through.

What? I was beginning to think all ethereal beings were cut from the same cloth save for the one right next to me.

And as much as I wanted to shovel is words back into his mouth – insert internal eyeroll at his attempt to intimidate him – there wassomething pervasively withering about his glare.

It was almost as if I was nothing more than a schoolgirl getting a dressing down in front of the entire school.

“Answer me,” he said, sharply.

I couldn't help it – my eyes darted instinctively to Loki, who for once, was looking at me, intently. Studying me.

Curious as to what would appear from my lips.

Breath caught in my throat as I found myself unable to decipher what laid beyond the expression on his face.

“Here we go again,” Thor muttered beneath his breath and I found some small measure of comfort in them.

I was just about to sneak him a sly smile – one that conveyed I was completely commiserating with him when a fist thumped the table.

The sudden and loud noise reverberated around the hall – causing me to jump in my seat as it yanked my attention back to him.

Impatience donned his face as he leaned forward, and I found myself thinking wistfully what a shame it was that a veil of cruelty loomed in the shadows and planes of his face. He would have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Starlit eyes framed by thick regal-like bushy brows that were about five shades too dark for his hair. On any other, it would have looked like a botched job at the salon. But all it did was accentuate his eyes and served as a stark contrast to his bright, luminous skin I could only liken to silk spun of moonlight.

It appeared, the Universe wasn’t fair.

Of course, ethereal assholes had to be unnervingly beautiful while carrying out their assholery.

“Did you think you could rival my daughter – a princess?” he sneered and it took every bit of me not to roll my eyes in retort.

“Why not?” I muttered, annoyed, under my breath instead – thinking no one else would have caught it only to be rewarded with a low chuckle from the entity I had almost forgotten was beside me.

Ehrendil slammed his fist on the table once more.

But this time, I didn’t jump.

As strange as it was, all the fear that had thrummed in my veins just moments ago seemed to have vanished – dissipated as liquid anger began to filter in.

Anger at being mistreated.

Anger at being talked down to.

Anger at being despised over something I had completely no power over.

And so I sat there – straightening my spine, nugget by nugget until I met his gaze simmering low with anger, head-on.

“What did you say?” he asked, brusquely, placing both hands on the table.

I almost laughed. What was this display – the equivalent of a dog puffing up its chest?

Shushed murmurs rippled across the crowd.

It was clear – he wasn’t looking for an answer.

This was a challenge.

The sensible thing would have been to remain tight-lipped.

Stay low.

Bite my tongue.

My gaze drifted towards Loki.

I couldn't help it.

He still drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Speak up.

Speak up.

Speak up.

I couldn’t dampen the yearning I felt for him – could barely contain the burning I felt in my chest as I longed for him to say something.

Do something.

But I saw it.

Saw the barely discernible tilt of his chin and growing caution in his eyes that warned me against it.

Not another word, little writer.

I could almost hear his voice in my head.

And it felt like lead in my throat.

There it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – I really shouldn't have. But even after all this time – he still found ways to let me down.

Fuck you.

I swallowed it.

Pushed it down.

There would be a time and place for me to scream and shout and cry and grieve – this was not the time.

Perhaps it was the squaring of my jaw; perhaps it was the hardening in my eyes – but he shook his head – visibly this time with eyes widened – as the realization of what I was about to do dawned upon him.

Too late.

“I said why not?” I snapped, head swiveling back to face Ehrendil.

It was as if the entire crowd drew a huge collective gasp.

The audacity, I could hear them whisper.

The nerve.

Yes, my goddamn fucking nerve.

Shock flickered in those starlit eyes just for a fraction of a second before stirrings of rage settled in. The corners of my lips turned up ever so slightly in cynicism – there was no denying the punch of satisfaction in my gut.

He slammed both hands on the table – in a manner that was quickly becoming reminiscent of a petulant child who was not getting his way.

“What did you say?” he repeated once again, his voice a low stricken bellow.

I exhaled impatiently – making a show of it to aggravate.

“God, are you deaf?” I snapped.

I could have sworn I heard a choke beside me – and an additional few throughout the hall.

I could have also sworn Ehrendil almost fell off his seat. Odin too, by the looks from my peripheral vision.

Good.

“I… said…,” I reiterated, pushing my chair back, slowly.

Deliberately.

Locking gazes with him, I drew out the sound of its legs scraping across the floor.

Grating it on his nerves.

“…why not?” I finished, an eyebrow raised.

And there I was – standing tall, full and proud with a spine that no longer wanted to shrink in places I would rather forget.

Silence.

Shock.

I don’t think anybody dared breathe.

He froze.

Almost as if unable to comprehend what had just transgressed.

I pursed my lips.

Head held high.

Reveling in feeling as if I was finally standing in the sun after months of being tucked away like a shameful, dirty secret.

A tremble.

And then – like a drop of red paint in water, anger spread across his skin – mottling moonlight silk and tainting it with fury.

“You dare speak to me in such a manner?” he roared.

“Why? Just because you plucked a crown out of thin air, placed it on your head and called yourself a King?” I retorted.

Another choke.

Though I’m pretty sure it came from Loki’s direction this time, who stood up abruptly with so much force, it sent his chair clattering backwards.

“King Ehrendil, please forgive her – she knows not what she speaks of,” he jumped in, bowing ever so slightly in Ehrendil’s direction.

I wanted to hurl.

When was he relegated to something so weak and meek?

I opened my mouth, but Loki shot me a sharp glare and a warning shake of his head.

He gestured at me with his hand, beckoning for me to lower myself as a humbling act in front of the arrogant king.

Over my dead body.

Glaring back at him, I squared my jaw.

He’d be a fool to think I would continue holding my tongue.

I turned back to Ehrendil, who was trembling with rage in his seat at his very moment.

“Why should I respect someone who can’t even raise their own child right?” I blasted, throwing my hand out in Halwen’s direction.

Glancing over at her, I wanted to laugh palpably at the pathetic imagery of her hand on her chest in feigned shock.

At her affronted facial expression.

At the damsel in distress act she still insisted on pulling.

“Father, I--…,” she immediately responded in that saccharine voice only to have Ehrendil hold up his hand, cutting her off.

“You dare speak of my daughter in such a manner?” he growled.

“Oh, please. I think you can do away with the theatrics as we’ll all agree that theydon’t work on me,” I bit out.

I didn’t think it was possible for him to grow redder.

But he did.

“Guards!” he roared.

Still, I didn’t flinch.

Quite frankly, I was beyond the point of caring.

Throw me in a cell for all I care – it wasn’t as if I wasn’t being thrown around like a ragdoll at the rate they were going.

“Ah, I see. So, that’s where she picked it up from – the second you all hear something you don’t like, you decide to stronga—” I started to scoff only to yelp when I felt fingers wrap themselves tightly around my wrist and yanked.

Hard.

Painfully.

“Wha--?” I protested, whipping around and finding myself face-to-face with a pair of familiar green eyes that flashed with anger.

Loki.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“What am I doing? Can’t you tell?” I rebuked, gritting my teeth in defiance as I tried to wrestle my wrist out of his grasp.

But it was to no avail and I grunted in frustration.

“Let go!” I growled, using my other hand to shove at his chest.

He barely budged.

He pulled at my wrist with so much force, I winced and stumbled forwards.

“That’s enough to your madness,” he snapped, eyes alight with rage.

And it felt like a slap to my face.

I froze.

And it was if the world had stopped turning.

That’s enough to your madness.

Again and again the words rang in my head.

Loud and clear.

I felt like I was reeling.

I shouldn’t have been surprised – really. Breaking my heart seemed to be a thing he had grown accustomed to.

But it hurt.

God, did it still hurt.

And there it was – that familiar sting behind my eyes and the rising acridity in my throat he always seemed to bring.

“Madness?” I croaked.  

He paused, the hitch in my breath cutting through the anger in his eyes.

I gave a hollow laugh as I nodded my head.

“Yes. Madness…,” I whispered, voice breaking.

I blinked.

Trying to swallow the pain.

The hurt.

But all it did was leak onto my cheeks.

Eyes wet and bright.

So they could see clearly for once.

He faltered.

Eyes filled with questions as they searched mine.

“You’re still defending her after all this time?” I breathed.

I couldn’t help but feel the bubble of rage boiling beneath all the layers of hurt and heartbreak.

And worse –betrayal.

My wrist went limp and slack in his grasp as frustration flared to life in his eyes.

“I’m protecting you!” he seethed.

A sound of exasperation.

“I don’t need your protection,” I snapped, seizing his distraction as an opportunity to knock his hand away.

Before he could get another word out, I whipped my attention towards Halwen.

“You say you lovehim,” I pointed out, eyes narrowed in accusation as I felt the word ‘love’ roll off my tongue like acid – cheapened by her presence.  

Her lips pursed, much like her father – a petulant little child who insisted she had been wronged.

Her eyes widened and the voice that came out next was soft and small.

Like a victim.

“We were meant to be wedded… until… until…,” she rebuked, pausing for effect as she turned to look around the table – giving everyone a good show of her tears glistening in her eyes.

I had to hand it to her – she was really getting into it.

Playing the crowd like a fiddle – save for a bemused little snort I heard from the adorable buffoon that was still seated next to me.

“Pray finish,until…?” I taunted and it was perhaps barely noticeable to everyone else in the room but I saw the slight shadow of a furrow between her brows – irritated she had been caught in the act and I had called out on her bullshit.

She pursed her lips, scrunching her nose slightly as she shot me dagger glares.

“Until…you stole him and destroyed the treaty,” she snapped.

I let out a rather incredulous laugh.

She paused – confused.

I couldn’t help it – the bubble of birth bursting forth from my chest.

Because, really, how was one supposed to take her seriously?

“So, which is it?” I asked with a shake of my head even as the sound of my laughter lingered in the air of puzzlement.

There were little hushes of bewilderment amongst the crowd – even Odin and Queen Frigga exchanged inquisitive glances.

I could feel Loki’s eyes on me.

Probing.

Burning.

What are you up to, Little Writer?

Could almost hear his voice inside my head.

“Which is what?” she huffed, impatiently.

I looked at her, eyebrow raised as I scoffed to which she shot me an indignant glare.

“Pray tell, if you think so lowly of us Midgardians – what makes you think I command enough of a presence then for such a disruption? Am I, one, inconsequential enough that you can barely stomach eating at the same table as I do – or, two, does my existence hold enough weight to break, as you say, a treaty yearsin the making?” I bit out, condescendingly.

Her features looked painfully pinched.

Good.

Even a quick glance at Ehrendil showed him struggling to comprehend and swallow this turn of events.

Well, this Midgardian chit still has some fire in her blood.

“Yo—,” she started to retort, but I cut her off with a brush of my hand.

“So, again, which is it?” I repeated, forcefully, with a square of my jaw.

I’m pretty sure I heard a choke or two.

And even if it didn’t come from Halwen and Ehrendil themselves, it looked as if they were about to get conniptions.

“Oh, brother, I like this one,” came a muffled whisper and it was difficult to suppress a smile even in the heat of things.

And even though Loki remained wordless – nothing but a comfortable stretch of silence that laid in the wake of Thor’s words, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of courage.

“Or… perhaps, rather, he wanted to break this treaty because he doesn’t want to wedyou. Did that ever cross your selfish little mind?” I pushed forward.

If I hadn’t already pushed her over the edge, that certainly did as pink slowly spread across her cheeks and her eyes narrowed with hatred.

“Frankly, I shouldn’t even be surprised – God knows both your parents appear to have a habit of treating people like gifts ready to be exchanged for conveniences. Like gifts robbed of their dignity to make their own choices,” I continued.

But I had barely gotten the last word out of my lips when a loud roar erupted within the walls of the hall – startling me.

I turned to its direction.

Odin.

His eyes spat with rage upon meeting mine and I could have sworn I heard the crackling of electricity in the air.

The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck and arms stood erect.

I felt Loki start beside me, his hand reaching out instinctively to clutch my forearm – as if a warning to brace myself.

“Insolence!” he bellowed, his voice a furious timbre that echoed like the rumblings of purgatory.

He stood up brusquely, hand outstretched as he pointed at me – the pariah. Eyeing me like I was nothing more than a piece of rotten garbage who had been discarded past my use.

The entire hall fell into silence – gripped by fear as if death had touched upon them.

Their King had spoken.

“You know nothing of our traditions or the importance of what is at stake here,” he snarled.

I opened my mouth, barb at the ready on the tip of my tongue only to feel the grip around my forearm tighten.

I shot an irritated glance at Loki only to pause momentarily at the warning look on his face.

“Don’t,” he mouthed.

But I was beyond caring.

Shaking his hand off roughly, I whipped my attention back to Odin.

“You know, people often mask really shitty attitudes and moral aptitudes with this justification label they love to slap onto everything – tradition. Like, why are you being such an asshole? Don’t look at me, I’m just following tradition! Or, who made these barbaric rules? I don’t know, but we’ve got to follow them, because… wahey… it’s tradition, right?” I seethed, throwing my hands up in the air.

I was pretty sure I was making myself out to be a total nutcase what with my rant in the middle of what I could only define as an intergalactic meeting but hey, if they were already treating me like dirt, I might as well go all the way and get a things that have been weighing me down off my chest.

Damn did it feel good to say that.

Odin remained unmoving.

His expression harsh and pinched – almost painful to look at.

Almost.

“And while we’re at it – yes, I’m calling you out on your really shitty attitude and F-grade minus parenting. I mean, you’re acting like you’re so shocked and scandalized that a Midgardian girl, or whatever the fuck it is you call us, is here – when in reality, you’re the one who had this fucking brilliant idea of dropping your son off on Earth so that he could learn some manners and humility…” I continued ranting, before pausing just for a fraction of a second.

“… both of which you could use in spades,” I finished, chin tilted in Odin’s direction.

I could have sworn I heard a grunt.

And he looked as if he was about to pop a blood vessel.

If only I were so lucky.

“So, you only used Earth and me just because our reputation of being professional babysitters really preceded us. I mean, we’ll take the flattery – but I’m not here to undo all the fuck-ups you’ve done throughout your years of shitty parenting. And more importantly – don’t discard me when I’ve finally served my use. The whole time I’ve been here you’ve treated me with nothing but contempt and disgust and why? Because you think me and my kind are beneath you?” I fumed.

I knew I was running my mouth – knew I was courting trouble what with the way Odin was turning red in the face. With the way his jaw was locked and his eyes hardened as he tried his damndest to stop his hands from shaking with rage.

But I saw it – the telling tremble.

The slight curl of his lip.

Or perhaps it was I who was trembling – word after word falling out of my mouth, fueling the rage that ran in my veins.

I had had enough.

I wasn’t about to allow myself to be pinned on the spot and interrogated as if I had anything to be shameful about. As if I had anything to be blamed about when it was clear these were immortals who had no qualms about tinkering with the lives of mortals for their convenience.

To hell with all of them. If I was going to go down, I may as well go down in all my pent-up truth.

Plus, just taking in all their shell-shocked and scandalized expressions made it worth it.

“I’ll have you know – in our world, we call that racism!” I spat.

I felt a hard yank on my arm.

“What?” I snapped at Loki, eyes livid emeralds and exasperation smeared across his face.

“Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.

I had to force a choked laugh down my throat.

“Yes, because that is what you immortals do. When you don’t like something, you lash out and use brute force to twist someone’s arm and bring them to their knees,” I rasped.

I jabbed a finger in his chest.

Hard.

“You’re like that. Ehrendil’s like that. Hell…,” I broke off, shifting my attention back to Halwen who up to this point, had kept her pretty little pout sealed as she watched events unfold in my undesirable favour.

“… that’s why you’re so upset. It’s because he’s a toy you can no longer have and you need someone else to blame. Someone else you can hurl all your hatred and abuse towards because the very idea of his adulation for you having vanished is simply inconceivable,” I scathed.

Her bottom lip wobbled and I could practically see the cogs turning in her mind as she scrambled to come up with a defence to refute what I had just laid out for everyone else to see.

“Well, here’s a news flash, princess – this is all on you. You took the good he had for you and killed it all on your own. Whatever it was he felt for you – you destroyed it the night you found out his true identity as…,” I continued, only to be interrupted by a fit of coughing from Halwen.

I felt the entire room’s attention shift.

As if everyone was sitting a little straighter, ears perked and primed for what had almost been revealed.

Almost.

“… as the less favoured prince,” Halwen cried out, scrambling for a cover with alarm flashing in her eyes as she looked over anxiously at Ehrendil.

Tensed.

A grim look on his face.

His lips pressed together in an unforgivingly harsh line.

And that was when it hit me.

He doesn’t know.

I looked back at Halwen and for the first time, saw desperation in her eyes – her plea to me loud and silent all at once.

Less favoured prince.

The words rang out loud – hung low and heavy in the air like shackles draped over Loki’s neck.

And it was because he was still a prince – still an Asgardian, not a Frost Giant that they still wanted him.

That marriage was still on the table.

It wasn’t him they wanted.

It was his identity.

The honour that came with it.

The power that came from its pretense.

She wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

And it felt like a sledgehammer to my gut.

I turned to him, slowly.

Feebly.

A strange wave of melancholy washing over me, bringing to high tide tears in my eyes.

They stung.

He looked at me, eyes pained and confused. His arms hung limp by his side like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

It wasn’t my secret to tell, but God, God did I wish I could tear off the mask he had spent years hiding behind for the whole world to see.

For the whole world to accept.

For me to… love.

“Do you see?” I whispered, voice tethering on the edge of breaking.

His eyes searched mine.

Gently.

Tenderly.

Bright and shiny with unshed tears.

“That’s why he still wants you. That’s why shestill wants you. Not for who you are. But for your title,” I croaked.

Is this what you want?

The silent question hanging between us.

Is this the life you want to squander away?

He blinked.

But the tears that rolled down were mine.

It was strange standing there – feeling my heart break not just for myself. But for him.

And for the first time – I saw it.

Finally saw the understanding unravel in his eyes with so much softness and vulnerability, I came undone.

Undone in the way his lips parted, my name slipping out so quietly and breathlessly from between them like a prayer that would bring him to his knees.

“I--,” he started to whisper, soft and gentle and yielding – in all the ways I had ever envisioned him to be whenever he looked at me.

In all ways that filled out the hollow in my chest.

Even if only for a second.

But it wasn’t to last.

“Enough of this insolence!” Odin announced, gruffly.

And it was gone.

All traces of tenderness vanished in the air – there was no room for even a wisp of it before this King.

I turned to look at him, slowly.

Head held high.

Cheeks stained with tears.

And our eyes locked.

“You dare enter our realm and denigrate our traditions and the order of things,” he accused and it took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at the hypocrisy.

A. Lot.

“Isn’t that what you have done too?” I scoffed, unable to keep the retort from shooting straight out of my mouth.

And he had the audacity to wonder why Loki had turned out this way.

That gave him pause.

Irritation flickered across his face briefly, but he ignored it – pushing through.

“You speak of choices so freely…,” he resumed and I steered myself ready for the stinging barb that was bound to follow.

His eyes narrowed.

And I tilted my chin upwards in defiance.

“Do you truly believe he would choose you over her?” he mocked.

I swallowed.

He knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of me.

And the truth was – it did sting.

“Over this kingdom?” he booked, his hand made a sweeping gesture across the table.

Hitting exactly where it hurt.

Dead centre.

Because that was the truth – Loki loved power. No, perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. Loki craved acceptance, desired adulation – and he was blinded in his belief that power would bring it all to him.

Odin was right.

Loki would never give up the kingdom.

His silence throughout the entire ordeal was in it, an answer itself.

And while it hurt – each thought a stab to my chest – this was nothing new.

This was something I had spent nights crying over.

Wheezing.

Gasping.

Hollowed out.

It was a demon I had since learnt how to make peace with.

“It’s okay,” I breathed, my throat starting to constrict.

It’s okay.

And I wasn’t sure if the words had been just for me.

A reminder.

Be brave.

The little voice in my head whispered.

Odin frowned – unable to make out what I had just said save for the slight unintelligible mumble it had come across.

“Speak up, Midgardian,” he ordered, his patience wearing visibly thin.

“I said, it’s okay, I choose me,” I said.

Weakly.

Feebly.

Yes, it was wobbly.

Yes, it was shakey.

And yes, I sounded damn near close to everything falling apart.

But I said it.

Odin’s eyes widened.

“It’s okay,I choose me,” I repeated once more.

Louder.

Clearer.

Like it was some sort of catharsis that fueled liquid courage in my veins.

“You choose yourself?” Odin echoed, incredulously.

As if he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

I nodded.

Be brave.

Came that little voice again.

And this time, there was no fear.

No ragged breathing.

No pounding in my chest.

There was only peace.

There was only bravery.

There was only me.

I took in a deep breath.

“Choosing myself means being unafraid of speaking what is true to me. And me, this Midgardian whom you hate and despise so much, me – I have seen your son. I have seen who he is and I lovehim. The question is – do you?”

A sharp intake of breath.

Loki.

But I didn’t look his way.

No matter how much it killed me inside.

Be brave.

Even to the sound of your own heart breaking.

My bottom lip quivered.

“But don’t worry – I don’t intend on loving him any longer.”

[winterheart17]

How To Intimidate A Writer

TITLE OF STORY: How To Intimidate A Writer

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 27

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None for this!

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Whew, sorry for the long break! I initially wanted to make this chapter longer - but as I was writing it, it kinda took a life of its own and I figured the part I had in mine (after where this one ends) would be better as another chapter. That’s the one I’m hoping all of you will feel proud of Little Writer! Until then, consider this as a build-up for an interesting chapter ahead (sorry, I know this chapter isn’t super jam-packed with things happening, but trust in the process! This build-up was needed). Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or of the tag list. 

Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilers @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96  @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditem @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @tfwqueenidjit @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx @noplacelikehome77 @vertdragain  @jessiejunebug @toaster-strudel-witch @a7xlizardqueen @starscreamloki @tinchentitri @prettyjewel93 @chantimoondancer @dangertoozmanykids101 @winterisakiller @humbleslvt

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

Well, fuck.

My fingers ran across the tines of the three forks placed to my left as I sat there, having ruminated for the past ten minutes, trying my best to recall if proper dining etiquette dictated I started with the utensils going outwards in, or vice versa.

Did they even adhere to the dining etiquette we had on Earth?

The placement of their utensils certainly alluded to so.  

And the last thing I wanted to do was to give them any cause to mock me or look at me with their downturned snobbish expressions.

How typical of a Midgardian.

I could already taste the disdain that would roll so easily and loosely off their tongues if the shifty and really, not-very-subtle gazes from various Asgardians seated at the long table – stretched from one end of the hall to the other – were anything to go by.

I winced, shifting in my seat. The high back of the chair was hard and stiff – made from pure gold, I was certain, what with the flamboyant theatrics the entire Hall was decked out in tonight.

It appeared… this King Ehrendil was someone to be impressed.

Though why, was absolutely beyond me as the minutes continued ticking away and he was nowhere to be seen.

If there was anything I detested, it was someone else who would take someone else’s time for granted – as if he or she had more important things to attend to instead of keeping an appointment. And judging from the amount of people seated at the table – I don’t think I did particularly well in Math in highschool, but I’d be damned if there weren’t at least 30 of us waiting with bated breath.

10 minutes? I could deal. Half an hour?

What was he doing?

Counting every single strand of eyebrow hair for his subjects to fawn over?

Well, it was no wonder his daughter turned out to be such a piece of work, whom, might I not-so-snidely note wasn’t present at the table either.

My eyes flickered to the figure sat across me and I berated myself for feeling my heart shrivel a little further with deflated hope as he sat there as he had for the past half hour – jaw locked in stoic silence with his eyes trained in every direction except the one where I would interrupt his line of vision.

What had I been expecting?

“I think I love you.”

My heart beat furiously in my chest – like a little hummingbird, drained and exhausted, but refused to be silenced.

Even when his arms around me tensed.

Even when I manoeuvred myself, tilting my head upwards only to see his jaw harden and his eyes sewn shut.

Even when my heart thudded dully in my chest – the little claws of doubt sinking into it – all flesh and blood as the thrumming grew louder and louder in my ears as seconds ticked past, melding into minutes.

Say anything.

I wanted to shout.

Wanted to scream.

Wanted to yell and shake him alive until my throat was raw and the colour of crimson red that splattered my insides.

Suddenly, all went quiet.

Silent.

And in that little space between the soft and even expelling of his breath and the loosening of his grip around me, I found my answer.

It was painful and it was damn near impossible to face, but it was the truth.

Rejection resided there.

Existed and grew tenfold until it filled every nook and cranny in my body – crushing my lungs.

Wheezing.

I gasped.

I couldn’t help it – couldn’t quite find an outlet for the stab that quietened into an ache that spread across my body, twisting and turning in my veins.

And still… still I could not bring myself to regret the words.

Even though I knew they were a mistake.

Even though I felt him pull further away than he had ever had before – placing brick after brick between the both of us to erect that infinite barrier he was walling himself into.

Even though a voice inside of me screamed that I had just single-handedly destroyed all that I had worked so hard towards.

And what was that?

A voice echoed in my head.

Just what had I been working so hard towards that I had sacrificed everything that should have mattered to me: the truth, my dignity, my heart.

To keep him by your side, you silly little girl.

And my throat began to close up – could feel the threatening prick of tears in my eyes.

The words had come out so effortlessly, so bravely… I’d be damned if I allowed myself to be shamed for them.

My fingers dug into his skin, unconsciously – leaving behind little red crescent marks.

He cleared his throat.

“I think we should sleep now.”

“You start with the outermost fork,” a gruff voice jolted me out of my painful recollection of the previous night’s happenings.

Of course, we hadn’t had a chance to since then speak.

When first light broke out across the sky, I had turned after a fitful night of sleep only to find his side of the bed cold, empty, and wanting. I couldn’t quite remember how long I had laid there, curled up in a ball, waiting for the tears to come.

Except they didn’t.

Not this time.

There was no sobbing and no theatrics, just numbness that chained my limbs and kept my eyes to the ceiling for hours on end until I dragged myself out of bed.

My head whipped to the right, in search of the owner’s voice.

And I found myself staring straight into a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Thor!” the single syllable slipped out, carrying surprise.

Both seats that flanked me had been vacant prior to me spacing out – nobody had deigned to sit next to the lowly Midgardian, it appeared. Even if it was close to their King who sat at the head of the table next to Queen Frigga. There were two opposing empty seats right next to them and I could only deduce that they were reserved for the royal asses – literally and figuratively.  

He gave me an impish grin and a wink.

“Ah, just as I suspected, the Pompous Prick has yet to make an appearance. It was just as well I had slipped into the Royal Kitchens for some sustenance given his predilection for tardiness,” he quipped, before giving his taut belly a light but firm pat.

My eyes widened.

“The Pompous Prick?” I reiterated, slowly and carefully just to ensure I hadn’t misheard.

Unless they associated another sort of meaning with ‘pompous’ and ‘prick’ here on Asgard.

He raised a brow, before leaning in with slight tilt of his chin in agreement.

I followed suit.

“He’s a difficult to take a liking to being who thinks everyone is beneath him. Only Father would deem him worthy of such prestige. You have met his offspring, I presume?” he continued and I almost chocked.

Offspring.

He uttered the word with enough of a shudder and a tinge of revulsion, I couldn’t help but feel a kick of smugness in knowing I wasn’t the only one at the table who saw through her fake ass bullshit.

“Halwen?” I asked in hushed tones.

He wrinkled his nose.

“I take it you don’t like her?” I prodded.

He let out a derisive snort.

“If she had something to take a liking to in the first place,” he threw back.

“Oh, thank God,” I breathed, the prayer slipping out mindlessly and he raised a brow, quizzically.

“Which one?” he asked, and I had to stifle the urge not to burst out laughing like a maniacal woman.

Between torturing myself with unrequited feelings for a man who clearly derived satisfaction from using me and the outlandishly charming but buffoonish naivety of his brother – I could slowly feel my sanity slip out of my grip. Perhaps if I acted mad enough, they’d lock me away in their equivalent of an asylum.

“I’m just relieved you aren’t out to kiss both their asses like the rest of the goons here,” I explained in haste.

His eyes widened immediately for a fraction of a second, before his features contorted in absolute disgust as he shook his head, violently.

“Is this customary of you Midgardians? Twice now you have referenced what I may only imagine as a gesture and fascination Midgardians may have regarding… that area of… anatomy,” he forced out, making another face at what I could only imagine as garish imagery in his head.

If I hadn’t felt like choking then – I certainly felt like it now.

“That is not what it means!” I sputtered, straddling the line between exasperation and laughing.

He held up his hands as if in defence.

“While it may not be a tradition us Asgardians observe, far be it for me to pass judgement on the cultural exchanges of other beings,” he said in a non-committal response.

That earned him a thwack on his shoulder.

Which frankly, probably did my hand more harm than it did him.

“You didn’t tell me you were Thor, his brother,” I hissed.

He paused for a moment, looking genuinely flummoxed as to what I was referring to before a grin broke out wide across his face.

“Ah… that…” he muttered beneath his breath.

My eyes widened and I jabbed my finger into his forearm.

“Don’t you ah, that me. You knew exactly who I was and kept your identity a secret that night,” I admonished.

At least he had the decency to look sheepish as he ruffled his hair in an apologetic manner.

Almost.

“I thought it best lest you should mention to him of our encounter…” he started, his voice trailing off as his hand gestured as if expecting me to fill in the blanks.

I leaned closer, shaking my head at him – because if he was throwing a bone at me, I definitely wasn’t catching it.

He cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you have yet to notice, but my… brother doesn’t take too kindly to anything that involves my name. In fact, I am perhaps inviting his wrath just from my proximity to you right now,” he continued.

I glared at him still.

He winced, resting his hand on the back of his neck – his expression one reminiscent that of a guilty puppy and I felt my consternation budge.

God damn it.

I blew him a raspberry, throwing my hands in the air as I shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll let you off the hook this time. But in case you haven’t noticed, your brother and I… aren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment. I hardly think he’d be bothered where I am concerned,” I hissed, trying to quieten the ringing truth I heard behind the words.

He paused, a brow slightly raised – disbelief clouding his eyes.

“I find that rather… difficult to believe,” he murmured, slowly.

And there it was – that little prick in my chest that had me torn between wanting to believe in the conviction he had in me and wanting to scream at his misguided trust.

My eyes narrowed on him.

“Oh, believe me. I wish it wasn—,” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the second I sat down,” he muttered his breath, so quickly and softly, it stunned me for a second.

“Wh—what?” I stuttered.

He met my gaze – his pupils sliding ever so subtly to the figure seated opposite us.

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since I sat down next to you,” he repeated, a little more solemnly this time.

My lips parted, eyes hazy and unfocused as I instinctively began to turn my head – as if his mere presence was the centre of my gravity – until Thor grabbed my forearm, firmly.

“Don’t look,” he bit out, snapping me back to reality.

He leaned in closer – so close I could feel his body heat emanating from his clothes as he blocked out whatever peripheral vision I had to whisper into my ear.

“There we go,” he mumbled and I didn’t even have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice.

“What?” I queried, not quite exactly sure what was going on.

“If I know my brother, and I believe I know him well – he should be roiling in his seat,” he continued, his words tinged with the low rumble of a chuckle.

Why?

Why bother?

The self-sympathetic question dancing on the tip of my tongue.

I wanted to tell Thor that it didn’t matter – that I had torn out my heart and given it to him, but he didn’t want it anyway.

But instead, I cleared my throat.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, a lump lodged in the middle of my chest as he began to pull back, slowly.

Our eyes met and his twinkled.

“Because… sometimes… anger is needed to realise what is important in front of you,” he answered with a wink.

And in that very moment, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the warmth that bloomed in my chest, trickling into my veins.

How different these two brothers were – day and night.

I leaned back a little, studying the gruff figure in front of me – noticing the way his hair shone and glinted in the warmth of the light as his skin glowed golden.

The Golden boy.

How different he looked in comparison to skin that came alive under the pale silvery light of the moon with hair the shade that disappeared into the night.

I felt a twinge.

But before I could part my lips to utter a reply, the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, the creaking and groaning filled the space – taking over the low thrumming din that had been background noise as it dimmed into nothing but pin drop electrically-charged silence.

“Here we go,” Thor sighed, that denoted the next few minutes of my life weren’t going to be exactly pleasant, before he pushed his seat back slowly to stand in honour.

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor multiplied – echoing across the Hall as I followed suit, my eyes resting momentarily on Loki.

If he had been, as Thor had described, staring at us with venomously the entire time – he certainly wasn’t now.

His face was turned firmly away from me to his right and I followed his line of vision.

King Ehrendil.

Dressed in robes that called to mind the midnight sky laden with the twinkling of a million stars, I could only make out his profile as he strode past the entire length of his table – flanked left and right by guards with Halwen following close on his heels.

He was tall – that much I could make of and commanded a regal presence.

When he finally stopped about three seats away from us as he bowed his head ever so slightly as a gesture of respect towards Odin – in a manner that denoted he knew he was arrogantly that of higher ranking – I had to blink thrice to ensure the vision of the man in front of me was real.

His hair was that of starlight, long and straight that ended at his waist – his of that from another world with its soft and ethereal luminosity. A stark comparison to Halwen who seemed to gleam with the light from the sun.

“Asgard welcomes you, King Ehrendil,” Odin greeted with a bow himself.

I hadn’t even realised it was as if someone had hit the pause button on this entire scenario – I had barely even noticed how still everyone had become until both King Ehrendil and Halwen took their respective seats and it was almost as if every single individual let out a collective breath of relief, before the sound of chair legs scraping the floor resonated in the air once more as everyone settled back down.

“Thor,” I heard the sickeningly saccharine voice carry over to me as she sat down next to my only friend at the table… hell… in all of Asgard.

I didn’t have to turn to imagine the forced smile plastered across his face – could hear the reluctance in his voice as he returned her greeting.

“It has been far too long,” she remarked as I decided to return my concentration to the cutlery in front of me.

Keep my head low.

That was the game plan.

And not to speak unless absolutely required to or addressed.

Quite frankly, I swallowed, as I snuck another glance at the figure across the table who had started leaning in towards his left – his entire body tense and alert as he tried to make bits and pieces of the conversation between Odin and Ehrendil – the only thing that was weighing on my mind was the dreaded confrontation I knew was coming after all this was over.

I couldn’t…

I couldn’t keep living like this.

In limbo and in shame.

I tried to steady myself even as my hands began to shake at the very thought – if he didn’t want me, I would leave.

“Not nearly long enough,” I heard Thor mutter beneath his breath and it was difficult to stifle my smile.

“How have you been?” another question came and I wondered why in the world was she trying so very hard to win over someone who was clearly making his distaste for her evident.

Perhaps she was the sort who needed the adulation and adoration from everyone.

“Fairly well… until a few moments ago,” he answered, hesitating as he drew out the last few words so slowly, there was no mistaking the meaning behind those words.

There was a pregnant pause.

The tension palpable in the air and I only thanked the stars that he sat there separating the both of us.

“I see you’ve not lost much of your charm over time,” came the jab upon realisation that there was no need for such niceties.

“If only the same could have been said of you,” he jabbed right back.

A little bubble of mirth burst from my lips – I couldn’t help it. A reply as snide as that deserved a reaction.

It didn’t miss her ears and I only hoped to whatever higher power that was up there that it would grate further on her nerves.

“If I were you… I’d be showing a lot more respect to someone who may soon be a part of your family,” she growled.

Wow.

This woman took delusional to another level.

He let out a little snort.

“Well, then it is with much fortune – mine not yours – that you are not me, nor I am you,” he retorted and it took me all my willpower not to give this God a medal.

I could have sworn I heard a choking sound – perhaps the eek of her internal struggle of descending into incandescent rage and the awareness of not being able to blow her top off right there and then in front of so many.

I heard her clear her throat again, an underlying hitch that denoted a sense of purpose – a signal of sorts.

And from my peripheral vision, I saw King Ehrendil pause – filling my stomach with dread as the chatter between him and Odin slowly died down.

I knew what was coming next.  

And with the rest of the Hall’s chatter coming to a halt as the atmosphere began to climb electrically once more – it appeared that everyone else knew too.

“I believe an explanation on the breaking of the betrothal is required?” he queried.

God damn, even the man’s voice was out of this world – smooth and silky, caressing every nerve in my body as I froze, eyes still glued to the cutlery in front of me.

Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

It was quickly becoming clear that this would be my mantra for the night.

Prickly, uncomfortable silence spread across the Hall and I could only imagine the exchanging of awkward and concerned glances all around me.

“King Ehrendil, perhaps this conversation would be better suited in the priva—,” I recognised the timbre in Queen Frigga’s voice – a salve meant to soothe the thorny words and lingering hostility.

But he was having none of it.

A first thumped the table – the move reverberating throughout the Great Hall – causing my plate and cutlery to rattle. I jumped in my seat – almost jumping out of my skin at the unexpected display of anger.

“With all due respect, Queen Frigga…” his words meted out, cold and stony – even her name sounded derogatory coming from him.

“… this betrothal had been meant to be the unification between our worlds. Should the discussion of the breaking of it then not include both worlds? Or has years of peace lulled you into a false sense of impression that Alfheim would take such humiliation quietly?” he snapped.

Well, clearly, this was someone who got his way frequently.

“You misunderstand us, King Ehrendil,” Odin jumped in.

I snuck a glance up quickly at his face and there was no mistaking the displeasure he was openly displaying for the world to see. He arched a sardonic brow.

“A misunderstanding,” he repeated, slowly – rolling the words off his tongue, mockingly.

Quiet rage simmered beneath the surface – as if one tiny spark would be enough to set him off on a course of war.

“And was it a misunderstanding when Halwen delivered the news to me – the breaking of the betrothal… a treaty years in the making – instigated by your son, Loki, with no other explanation other than a… Midgardian girl is involved?” he growled, another fist to the table.  

Well, shit.

Right.

My heart thumped in my chest.

That’s my cue to look down.

Look down.

He turned his head, slowly.

Look the fuck down.

But it was too late.

Starlit eyes locked onto mine.

[winterheart17]

How To Provoke A Writer

TITLE OF STORY: How To Provoke A Writer

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 23

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: I think we can all just agree this has turned into a proper series even though it started off as a compilation of one shots for my story ‘How To Love A Writer’! What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction?

STORY RATING: M

STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: No erotica, just a long-awaited confrontation ;) Loki doesn’t make an appearance here, but what can I say? The claws are out.

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Takes off exactly where the last one left off! Mistakes are all mine. Feedback would be wonderful and ever inspiring for writing updates! <3 Do let me know if anyone would like to be on or of the tag list. Tagging @devikafernando @ureyesonly21 @nuggsmum @queen-sands @ihatespoilers @say-my-name-assbut @hsvbabe @jrubalcaba @dandelionlady96  @ashleyloveslots  @kiera-auroraborealis @alexakeyloveloki @damageditem @lokilvrr @cuteandnerdythings @everythingeverywherelistening

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

Alternate link to Masterpost of How To Love A Writer (in case the above doesn’t work)

“How sweet of him to bring you to the very place he used to bring me.”

I froze – blood turning into piercing shards of ice in my veins. I’d know that nauseatingly saccharine voice anywhere.

“Halwen,” I breathed, turning around, slowly.

My mind raced, trying to figure out what I’d say. What I’d do. I had barely come to terms with her existence and all the insecurities and jealousy that shrouded just the mere mention of her name.

She emerged from the bushes behind me, her crowning glory catching rays of sunlight that lit up her strands like silky, soft-spun gold. And once again, my heart shrank at how ethereally breathtaking she looked.

No wonder he had fallen for her.

Unrivalled bitterness permeated my mouth, roiling and roiling within until I was certain I would hurl.

She locked her eyes on me, dead-on, almost feline-like with a lingering darkness behind them and I knew this was a confrontation that had been a long time coming.

How long were you standing there for?

I willed my lips to part, willed my tongue to move. But nothing.

A shiver ran down my spine as I struggled to call upon whatever drop of liquid courage Loki had placed in my hands just moments ago.

“What a touching scene that was,” she purred, taking a step closer towards me as her eyes scanned every inch of my body – the derisiveness evident in her face.

As if to say, this is all?

She took a turn, encircling me – every step a calculative measure meant to intimidate.

Just waiting to pounce.

Instinctively, I wanted to shrink – make myself as small as possible with my shoulders hunched forward and inwards. It was a lonely thing, this – being a foreign inhabitant in this new world I had barely just discovered existed while she had walked the lands long before I did and commanded such charismatic confidence and attention.

“… but how utterly unimaginative of him. One would think that with his new Midgardian pet…” she paused for effect, the last word filled with such disgust, before continuing, “… he would take liberties to impress you with a place other than the one he used to romance his previous flame at.”

Oh.

She smirked as the blood drained from my face and I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.

Tried as I might, I couldn’t stop my chest from caving in. Couldn’t stop my heart from shrinking further as I stood by and watched on as she snatched from my grasp the one good thing I had been desperately trying to hold on to.

He’s brought her here before, God. He’s brought her here before.

And suddenly, I felt stupid. I felt so blisteringly stupid as I stood there, clutching at my dandelion, as I scrambled inside to protect the sanctity of this place.

Mine.

Mine.

I wanted to wail at her and scream.

Pain tore through me and I felt my knees buckle a little.

This place.

Him.

Those words.

Had they all been nothing more than an elaborate lovely little ruse?

But then why go through all that trouble? Why drag me out here to this very place when he had known better than anyone that I was his – completely and utterly after the previous night where he had made me repeat it over and over again.

Her grin widened, dripping with spite as it became exceedingly clear that she had managed to draw blood.

And I would be damned if I allowed her to get away with it.

“I am not his Midgardian pet,” I hissed, angrily.

Slow-burning lucid rage crept up my chest and I used as an anchor to find my footing – to steady myself.

There would be time later for everything else.

She raised a brow and her dainty rosebud-shaped lips puckered, mockingly.

“Oh? Was that not what he had been referring to you as? I could have sworn that was what I had heard,” she drawled, making another turn as I swiveled my head around to face her.

“He didn’t mean it that way,” I said, through gritted teeth, wondering when this torture would finally be over.

She let out a little laugh that should have sounded like a peal of bells. Instead, it was nothing but nails on chalkboard, and I winced impulsively in response.

“Pray tell then, what way had he meant the term?” she taunted, her chin dipped.

“Perhaps you should ask him,” I shot back, her lips pursed grimly as my eyes widened, feigning innocent revelation as I countered, “Oh wait, he wants nothing to do with you.”

The smile on her face faltered, if but for a second as she recovered quickly.

Her eyes narrowed, determined to draw another round of blood.

“You’re not the first, you know? He’s had many before… me,” she jeered, pausing for effect.

It was enough to put a lump in my throat.

It really was – but in this very instance, I wanted nothing more than to claw the blood-dripping grin from her face.

“You’re just one in a long line of chambermaids, daughters of officials, guests of Asgard…” she listed, spitefully, using her fingers to sadistically tick titles off the list.

“I get it. He was a rogue,” I snapped, losing my cool momentarily as intimate images of him with other women flooded my mind.

Her eyes flickered amusedly to my flustered face and I berated myself for having let her get under my skin once more.

Fuck.

“But, what does that make you then?” I hurled back.

The insult cracked through the air like a whip and her nostrils flared at my impudence. Her cool was beginning to slip and it didn’t take a fool to figure out that nobody had ever spoken to her in such a manner. For a second, I was sorely tempted to throw my head back and laugh at how at the very least, Loki and her were similar.

She paused, as if ruminating over her next jab as the corners of her mouth drooped in displeasure.

“He’ll return to me,” she finally declared, coolly.

Her eyes held mine, steadfastly, as if daring a challenge.

Well, I certainly could not disappoint.

“Strange, that’s not what he said to me in bed last night,” I just about snorted.

Now, I wasn’t one to usually indulge in bitchy comebacks that could potentially hurt someone, but what irritated me the most was how matter-of-fact that statement had been.

So assuming.

So confident.

So final.

That I was nothing more but a speck of dust in her eyes was enough to set the little firecracker in me off.

“And you think you’ll be his last then?” she growled, my retort having finally earned enough ire for her features to contort in anger.

As I looked at her with eyes washed anew, I realised that there was very little that was truly beautiful about her.

So what if her goddamn fucking hair looked like sunlight – even the sun cannot stay high up in the sky all the time.

So what if her skin was translucent almost like porcelain – it would take very little to smash it into smithereens.

She was nothing more but a spoiled brat who was upset over the loss of her favourite toy and she wasn’t quite used to having someone say no to her – what with being born with a silver spoon in her mouth and all.

Time to yank it out.

I shrugged – a seeming act of nonchalance to twist that knife in deeper when the ugly truth was that I was terrified of that unsettling question I had asked myself far too many times.

“I’m pretty sure the point of contention here is that you… aren’t,” I flung back.

That completely wiped the grin off her face.

She stomped her foot on the ground – that temper of hers finally showing through the cracks of her façade.

“Grown claws after that long sickening speech of being likened to a dandelion, have we?” she spat.

I raised a brow with a coy smile playing on my lips, as if to say, naturally. My fingers tightened further around that stalk. At this point in time, it was pretty much the only thing keeping me grounded and going.

Her eyes widened further with rage at my evident dismissal of her.

“I wonder if you’d still feel as special if you knew he too, once waxed lyrical about the delicate beauty and sought-after preciousness he recognised I had in my favourite… roses,” she snapped.

It was a stab to my heart.

And for a moment, just for a moment, it was as if the world had stood still and there was nothing I could do except stand there, frozen as I bled.

I wasn’t special.

He had given me the crumbs of his affection – affection that was nothing more than the pathetic remnants for what he felt for another – and I had lapped them all up like a fool.

My mind screamed and screamed until the voice inside me grew hoarse and weak and I could barely keep my body from trembling.

They were all lies.

“But one only has to observe the dandelion to realise that it is its strength – it is its nerve in thriving in the harshest of elements that blindingly outshines the fragility of the rose.”

Those words rang loud like betrayal in my ears and I could feel them resonate right down to my very bones.

Her venomous jabs had hooked their claws in me and I felt sucker punched in the gut.

But as she smiled – that cold, bloodless smile that would have probably once put me to shame with its artificial beauty – I felt something bubble inside my chest.

So what if they had been lies?

So what if he had only said what was convenient for him at the time?

Why couldn’t I rise and be my own dandelion?

When had I needed him to grant me the agency to be my very own person that would refuse anyone else to walk all over her?

Where the fuck was that wise-cracking writer with a tongue that was sharper only than her wit?

And suddenly, there it was.

I felt it.

Felt that fire burn brighter than anything else in my belly as it coursed through my veins.

“Excuse me, you strike me as neither a lackwit nor deaf – though the first is highly debatable and the second is something I sorely wish I was in your presence…” I began to say, pausing only to revel in the way her lips parted in surprise at this sudden attack.

“Wh—what?” she.

I grinned, tilting my head tauntingly as I clicked my tongue.

“My, my, Halwen, will I have to revise my judgement of that second bit?” I jeered, arching a brow.

“I'm pretty sure I’m saying this word for word, but did he not say that the dandelion ‘blindingly outshines the fragility of the rose’?” I asked, hand raised with my palm facing upwards.

Her brows were furrowed and it was almost amusing to see her mind race to form a coherent response, but not a single peep came from her.

How does it feel like to be on the other side of the fence now?

My eyes ran up and down the entire length of her body as I scoffed – even if it was only a show of bravado.

“Well, how disappointing – it appears I’ll have to retract the first part of my earlier statement as well. And here I thought, you were doing so well,” I goaded.

Her eyes widened and her skin took on a blushed hue of livid rage.

“Yo—you little…” she sputtered, but I cut her off with a purposeful flick of my wrist that I knew would incense her further.

“Pray tell, does his statement not clearly outline how he believes the rose pales in comparison to the dandelion?” I asked, rhetorically, not even bothering to wait for an answer, before pushing, “I mean, how does one speak of and elevate superiority without drawing comparison to something else that is inferior and beneath it?”

I held her gaze, daringly this time.

There was no trembling, no quaking, no sliver of my desire to cower.

Satisfaction spread like how rage stretched across her mottled skin as her shoulders shook.

Goddamn if it didn’t feel good.

I wasn’t usually one to go about starting fights – nor had I ever dared to envision myself going up so scathingly against her – but she could damn well bet her putrid little hiney that I would finish it.

“Well, one could hardly blame you for still grasping on the slipping remnants of yesteryears. After all…” I drawled, lips curling up into a deliberate sardonic smile, “That’s the only thing you have to hold onto while your name is the furthest thing from his mind as he walks around with the taste of me on his lips.”

“You lying whore,” she snarled, her hands balled into tight fists by her sides.

I raised my hand immediately – clasping it to my chest as my lips parted as if affronted.

“Oh, did I not mention?” I asked, in feigned innocence.

She glared at me.

I suppose I should thank my lucky stars Light Elves couldn’t put someone six feet under the ground with just a stare.

I smacked my lips together.

“His words, not mine,” I grinned.

Her eyes narrowed on me.

“Then why did he agree to meet me in the gardens tonight?”

[winterheart17]

So I’ve gained some new followers over the past week I’ve been back - hello!! Just thought I’d reblog my mobile masterpost as I’m sure most of us are all now on our phones.

If you’re new to my blog - welcome! I write Loki and Tom Hiddleston fics with some Thranduil here and there. I joined way back in 2013 and was quite possibly the most active here 2013 - 2016. Then fell off the grid on and off in between with life stuff.

To those who’ve stuck around for so long (some of you whom I’ve known even back in 2013 😭) - you guys have no idea how much it feels like coming home.

I won’t be on here as much as before - possibly twice or thrice a week. I’m also taking baby steps back into the writing world - starting with that last bit of How To Love A Writer series. It will be tough and I’ve had to go back and reread chapters to jog my memory of some details but I want to find that spark again. That glow I get when I descend into a writing frenzy because not putting my thoughts on paper was unbearable.

I hope you’ll stick with me and be patient ♥️ I hope new readers will find something to love about my stories (and I hope they make you cry in the best way possible). Do drop by and say hi!! Would love to hear from you guys and how you’ve been doing ♥️

Mobile Masterpost

Hello there, thank you for visiting and I hope you kick back and enjoy yourself. This is a list of all that I have written so feel free to explore depending on however you may feel:) Whether you are in the mood for some erotica, fluff, romance, drama, I have them all here :) Just click on the links leading to my Multi-chapters, One Shots and Drabbles and any feedback, even for completed stories would be greatly appreciated!

Tom Hiddleston and His Characters

Multi-Chapter

Tom Hiddleston

1. The Boy I Was Going To Marry [completed]

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mentions of sexual situations

14 years ago, Mickey and Tom met for the first time and fell in love but were separated.  What happened? 14 years later, they meet again but Tom is about to marry someone else.  Can two people who have never truly left find their way back to each other?

2. Dandelion

This is a series of Tom Hiddleston one shots.

It started off only with ‘The Morning After’ but after getting so much encouragement, it has snowballed into a series.  I’ll list them according to the timeline I’ve written them in as I think it would make more sense to read it in that order.  Shy, virginal OC meets Tom the actor and sparks fly in a most adorable and sexy manner!

3. On The Seventh Day [ongoing]

Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Mentions of sexual situations

Written for my lovely reader, Susannah.  Susannah is a nurse and Tom is a shy and smitten man.  Fluffy things ensue complete with lame jokes!

4. Happiness? I Do. [ongoing]

Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance, Erotica

Everyone knows the making of a happy ending.  it starts with ‘hello’ and it ends with ‘I do.’ Or does it?  What happens in between?  What happens after?  When Tom and Wednesday said ‘I do’. they believed it was their happy ending.  but 3 years down the road, everything has fallen apart.  That’s when they learn that ‘I do’ encompasses a lot of things, that marriage is hard work and just because two people love each other, it doesn’t necessarily mean they can make it till the end.  now both of them have ask themselves if it is worth it to hold on or is it time to let go?

Loki

1. You Had Me At Loki [completed]

Genre: Drama, Romance, Erotica

Based on my one shot, Surrender.  Arwynn is half Midgardian and Asgardian and has loved Loki since she was 9.  When she finally becomes his chambermaid, they become lovers but will Arwynn ever get her happy ending with this arrogant, demanding and jealous God?

Here is Surrender.  Also found below in one shots.  Just to be clear, Surrender is in no way part of You Had Me At Loki.  I wrote it as a compact stand alone piece but because it was so well-received, I decided to write You Had Me At Loki, changing things and expanding.  So, the storyline is very similar but please read the two separately :)  Surrender is just for you to get a feel of the entire plot of YHMAL :)

2. How To Love A Writer [ongoing]

Genre: Romance, Drama, Erotica

This is a series of Loki one shots that began with ‘How To Seduce A Writer’, inspired by the piece by Neil Gaiman.

OC (unnamed thus far) is a virgin who is also a struggling writer.  When faced with rejection due to her lack of real life experience, her path crosses with Loki’s who is condemned by Odin to repent on Midgard.  Knowing that the OC holds the sole key to his escape, he whisks her away to an isolated mansion.  And so, with both parties holding intentions of their own, they enter a game of love and seduction. Her, for her writing and he, for his escape. However, it isn’t long before it becomes very clear that despite their resistance, perhaps love isn’t quite the game they had thought it would be after all.

One-Shots

Miscellaneous one shots, unlike the series Dandelion :) I have everything ranging from erotica, fluff, baby, emotional to comedy.  I hope you enjoy them! :)

Drabbles

I wrote most of these when I was away on a holiday and queued them up hidden in ‘gift boxes’ :) If you know me, it’s hard for me to write short pieces but I had a lot of fun doing these and again, they range from erotica, comedy, fluff and surprising twists ;D I hope you enjoy them! :)

Lee Pace and His Characters

Multi One Shots

Thranduil

1. Uilwen

When mortal Uilwen shares one forbidden night of pleasure with King Thranduil, she despairs to find herself torn between saving her Father and giving into the dark and pleasurable demands of an arrogant King.  What will she choose?  And more importantly, will she have a choice?

2. Come To Me

A follow-up to Uilwen above. When Thranduil beckons, will she yield?

One-Shots

Ned the Piemaker

1.  Blossom

Our hero meets the girl of his dreams in a flower shop, only to ind that he loses his wits and tongue and dissolves into allergic sneezes around her each time. On the 57th day, out of patience, our heroine finally takes matters into her own hands. Will something finally blossom between them?

[winterheart17]

OMG you are back! such beautiful wedding! 新婚快乐百年好合！

Hellooo @islinglivesinshire (urgh Tumblr won’t let me tag you)

Yes! I’m back! Although, I won’t be able to come on as often but I do try to log on at least 2 - 3 times a week as I slowly work on the last 1-2 chapters of HTLAW. 

Thank you so much for your very kind words and I hope that life has been good to you. *hugs* Really, really appreciate the warm welcome back and thank you, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (no joke!) went into the wedding planning haha!

[winterheart17]

I just wanna say thank you for “How to love a writer”! It’s one of the best stories I’ve read and also one where I felt I could really relate to the reader. Especially in chapter 10, very much so, that it made me tear up (which is exceptionally rare for me). Thank you for sharing your writing! -Congratulations on your engagement!!

Oh sweetie, 

Thank you so much for this! Sorry for the late reply - I was actually working on the latest update for HTLAW and finally managed to get it posted yesterday! Thank you for taking the time to read and send me such a sweet message - it’s a much needed boost especially since I felt I really struggled at the beginning of writing this chapter having been away for so long and having feeling as if I had lost my writing mojo for awhile there. 

You know, when I first started writing my first fic here and discovered this wonderful, brilliant world of writing - the only thing I could think of was: “If I can succeed in making just one person cry. Just one. That would make me complete.” So, it always makes me feel a little giddy inside when someone tells me they teared/cried over my story. And thank you - haha I still don’t quite feel like an engaged person yet. 

[winterheart17]

Hellooooooo our grace! Yes grace because you’re a grace in writing! ❤️ I really really hope you’ll get some time for anything about Happiness, I do. Even for one chapter pleaseee, I’m begging you. I have so much feels for this story and I can’t help myself to feel envy for other of your stories getting updated. I know I sound so needy, but I just really love your story! Thank youu so much for sharing your talent to us! God speed darling!!😇❤️

Hi sweet pea @theduchessinmeAww you’re too sweet! Thank you so much for being so kind with your words. I’m so sorry for not updating Happiness I Do because I really, really cannot split my attention between two stories. I tried doing that before and ultimately, I felt I wasn’t giving my best to either and it just demotivated me. HTLAW doesn’t have long to go tbh because once this chapter closes, I’m going to work on rewriting and finishing HID. Promise. Thank you for being so invested and for being so patient in waiting so long! I won’t leave this hanging forever ♥️

[winterheart17]

Whew I've had the past 2 weeks to compose myself, catch up on work and some sleep. Anddddd I've started on that new chapter for HTLAW. Will be getting to answering all those lovely comments as the week goes by 💕

[winterheart17]

But I know what you loveys really wanna know is when the next chapter of HTLAW will be out! I've started writing a lil but but bridesmaid duties and wedding dinner took up most of my time. I'll be working on it the next morning (coz I'm about to pass out now), so fingers crossed I'll be done before my errands late noon and night!

[winterheart17]

Oh bless @mazewitch I’m so happy you enjoyed it till the very end! Haha I’d say I have maybe another 6-8 chapters left for HTLAW (?) if all goes as planned tbh haha.

You Had Me At Loki: Epilogue

TITLE: You Had Me At Loki: Epilogue

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Epilogue

AUTHOR: winterheart17

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki

GENRE: Drama, Erotica, Romance

FIC SUMMARY: Based on my one shot, Surrender.  Arwynn is half Midgardian and Asgardian and has loved Loki since she was 9.  When she finally becomes his chambermaid, they become lovers but will Arwynn ever get her happy ending with this arrogant, demanding and jealous God?

RATING: M

Author’s note: Holy hell, this is it, my sweetlings.  This is the very last part of You Had Me At Loki.  I want to thank each and every one of you for having made this possible and for cheering me on and showing me so, so much love.  Thank you for coming along on this long journey with Loki and Arwynn and know that without your support, I would never have made it through all 41 chapters (prologue and epilogue included).  Here it is, wrapped all together and I must say I rather like ending it this way.  Please do send me your thoughts on it as I would love to hear what you thought :) *sending out the biggest hugs* :) The links below are dresses mentioned :) 

Dress  1 with headpiece [by Paco Rabanne]

Dress 2 [by Satya Paul]

‘Ty! Cease your laughter!’ I berated him, smacking his forearm with my hand as his chuckle continuously sounded in the air.  His eyes were crinkled, glistening with what I could only assume were tears from mirth. 

‘I apologize, Wynn.  Truly but…I…’ he started to say before snorting and surrendering to laughter once more.   I placed my hands on my hips, swaying a little on my feet in the process and Ty’s hand immediately shot out to hold mine, steadying me. 

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[winterheart17]

I just want to let you know I lobe all your writing! I remember read You had me at Loki every few months but I will admit I miss Happiness I do. That one really got me in the feels, like I would pay to read that!

Thanks, sweet pea! Oh gosh, that’s a tremendously sweet thing to read and I’m almost back at it. Just one more chapter to go for HTLAW and rewriting Happiness I Do is my next project (to fix loopholes and inconsistencies). Thank you for sticking with me - I really do appreciate it!