Title: Yulefire and Shadows
Pairing: Loki x Asgardian Female Reader (hinted established relationship)
Summary: The Asgardian solstice tradition of lighting a great Yulefire is meant to drive away the lingering shadows of the past year. Loki, haunted by his own shadows, takes part reluctantly until the reader coaxes him into a private moment of vulnerability by the flames.
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Angsty, Kissing Unprotected Sex (Don’t do this!) (No Beta read)
A/N: Entry for @lokisgoodgirl Winter Warmers collection
The great hall of Asgard was alive with the warmth of the midwinter celebration. Golden light spilled from chandeliers overhead, reflecting off the polished stone floors and the ornate decorations that adorned the room. Yet, despite the laughter and the music, Loki stood on the periphery, a shadow among the revelers.
You noticed him immediately, leaning against one of the marble columns, his arms crossed over his chest and his emerald-green tunic catching the light of the massive Yulefire in the centre of the hall. The fire roared, crackling and snapping as it sent golden sparks into the air, but Loki’s gaze remained fixed on the flames, his expression unreadable.
“Not in a festive mood?” you asked, approaching him carefully. You held a goblet of spiced mead in your hand, offering it to him with a small smile.
Loki’s sharp blue eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the fire. “Festivities are for those without burdens,” he replied, his tone clipped. “I’ll not pretend to revel when I have no cause to.”
You sighed but didn’t press him. You knew better than to challenge Loki directly when he was in one of his moods. Instead, you stepped closer, glancing toward the massive bonfire that served as the heart of the solstice celebration. Asgardians gathered around it, tossing small tokens into the flames—pieces of parchment, scraps of cloth, even bits of broken weapons. Each offering represented something they wished to leave behind: regrets, pain, grudges.
“It’s supposed to be cleansing, you know,” you said, gesturing toward the fire. “A way to start fresh.”
Loki’s lip curled into a faint sneer. “Do you truly believe a bit of fire can burn away one’s regrets?”
“Maybe not entirely,” you admitted. “But it’s symbolic. A way of saying, ‘I’m letting this go.’ It helps, even if just a little.”
He didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on the fire. You studied him for a moment, noting the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clenched at his sides. Loki often wore his pain like armor, hiding it beneath layers of wit and sarcasm. But tonight, the cracks were showing.
“Come on,” you said gently, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s give it a try.”
Loki arched a dark brow at you. “You expect me to partake in this asinine tradition?”
“Yes,” you said firmly. “And you’re not getting out of it.”
To your surprise, he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed you to lead him toward the fire, though his steps were reluctant. The heat of the flames washed over you as you approached, and you pulled a small piece of parchment from your pocket.
“What’s that?” Loki asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
“Something I’ve been holding onto for too long,” you said. You didn’t elaborate, and Loki didn’t press you. Instead, he watched as you folded the parchment carefully and tossed it into the fire. The flames consumed it instantly, the edges curling and blackening before it disappeared entirely.
You turned to him, offering a small smile. “Your turn.”
Loki hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the fire. “I have nothing to burn,” he said finally.
“Everyone has something,” you countered, looking over at the raven haired man. “Even you.”
For a long moment, he stood there, silent and still, sometimes he was stone. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he conjured a small token—a delicate silver chain, tarnished and broken in places. You recognized it immediately as one of his childhood trinkets, something he’d once treasured but had long since discarded.
“This is meaningless,” he said, holding it up. But there was a tremor in his voice, one you doubted anyone else would have noticed.
“Then it should be easy to let go,” you said softly.
Loki’s fingers tightened around the chain, his jaw clenching. For a moment, you thought he might refuse. But then he stepped forward and cast the chain into the fire. The flames leapt up, consuming it in a flash of brilliant light.
When he stepped back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his gaze softened as he turned back to you.
“There,” he said quietly. “Satisfied?”
You smiled. “It’s a start.”
As the hours passed and the celebration wound down, the great hall began to empty. The laughter and music faded into the background as guests retired to their chambers or ventured outside to enjoy the solstice night. You wandered through the now-quiet hall, searching for Loki, only to find him seated near the dying embers of the Yulefire.
The golden glow illuminated his features, casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones and the faint crease between his brows. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into the fading flames with an intensity that made your chest ache. The glow of the fire seemed to burn in his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, settling down beside him on the cool stone floor.
“Something like that,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the embers.
You were quiet for a moment, the two of you sitting in companionable silence. The air was still and heavy with the scent of wood smoke, and the warmth of the fire lingered, though it was fading fast. Finally, Loki broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you think it’s possible to truly let go of the past?”
The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a vulnerability in his tone that you rarely heard.
“I think it takes time,” you said honestly, your own voice getting a little heavy. “And effort. But yes, I think it’s possible.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “Perhaps.”
Reaching out, you placed a hand on his, the warmth of your skin grounding you both. “You don’t have to do it all at once,” you said gently. “But you’re not alone, Loki. Not anymore.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The gesture was small but significant, and it sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fire.
“Darling,” he said softly, his voice almost breaking.
The two of you sat there for a while longer, watching as the last embers of the Yulefire faded into ash. The hall was quiet now, the echoes of the celebration long gone, but the silence was comforting rather than oppressive.
Eventually, Loki spoke again, his voice steadier this time. “You’ve always been annoyingly persistent, you know.”
You smiled, leaning your shoulder against his. “Suppose that’s better than you calling me stubborn. We balance each other out.”
A faint chuckle escaped him, and the sound was so rare that it made your heart swell, it was velvet sound.
“Perhaps we do,” he said quietly.
The moment lingered, and you felt the pull between you shift. Loki’s eyes flicked to yours, searching for something, and you didn’t look away. The shadows of doubt and pain that so often clouded his gaze seemed to soften, leaving only raw vulnerability.
“I’m still haunted by them,” he admitted, his voice breaking the quiet. “No amount of fire or tradition will chase them away.”
You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek, the touch light but grounding. “Then let me help,” you said softly.
Loki’s breath hitched, and his hand came up to cover yours. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine as his sharp features softened, his barriers lowering. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours with an unexpected tenderness that melted into something deeper, hungrier, as the kiss deepened.
The dying glow of the fire cast flickering shadows across the hall as Loki shifted, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. Your back pressed against the cool stone floor as his weight settled over you, his lips never leaving yours. His kiss was a mix of desperation and need, as if trying to silence the ghosts that haunted him with every touch.
“Darling,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with longing. “Let me lose myself in you.”
You nodded, your fingers threading through his raven hair, holding him to you as your breaths mingled. Loki’s hands roamed over you, his touch reverent yet possessive, as though he feared you might slip away. The heat between you built steadily, eclipsing the dying embers of the fire as he poured every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into his actions.
His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of searing kisses that made you arch beneath him. His voice was a rasp against your skin, a broken prayer that sent shivers through your body. “You’re my light,” he murmured, his words raw and unguarded. “My only light.”
Your breath caught at his confession, the raw honesty in his voice sending a tremor through your chest. “Loki…” you whispered, unsure of how to respond to the weight of his words.
His eyes met yours—stormy blue, filled with turmoil and yearning. For a moment, you saw the bare truth of him, stripped of his bravado and sharp edges. The God of Mischief was not a god here, but a man aching for something real, something to hold onto.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, though his voice held no bite. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours in a fragile pause. “You’ll ruin me.”
“Perhaps you need to be ruined,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hands traced the line of his jaw. “And perhaps I do too.”
Loki groaned softly, a sound of surrender as he tilted his head to kiss you again—this time slower, as though memorizing the feel of you. His hands wandered with a gentleness that belied his desperation, caressing your sides before sliding up to cradle your face. The weight of him grounded you, and the fire between you burned hotter than any embers in the dying hearth.
“I need you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a husky plea that made your pulse quicken. “Let me forget.”
You nodded, your chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths as you pulled him closer. “forget together.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile—brief, fleeting—before he dipped down again. His kisses trailed lower, his movements deliberate, reverent, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Your body responded to his touch instinctively, arching into him as soft sighs and whispered words filled the empty hall. The cool stone floor was forgotten as Loki's warmth surrounded you, his every caress chasing away the chill as His hand started bringing up the fabric of your gown. His face buried in your neck as his weight shifted on top of you on hand working between your legs, teasing though aching wetness while he freed himself from the leathers holding him.
“Norms I need you pet.”
His voice demanding you make it better, make him better. It was all the warning you got as he bit down on you neck at lanced himself into you his hand over your mouth the moment you cried out. Muffling the noise before you nipped his fingers.
“Shhh darling..” He purred before slowly pulling his hips back moaning into your ear, your eyes going back as you felt every ridge of him pull along your slick walls. “got to be quiet..” His own voice shaking in whisper, his hand bringing your thigh up higher, letting him sink further as your hands gripped tightly to his shoulders. To be full of him was all you wanted. You walls holding him as your own body responded to his.
The shadows on the walls flickered like living things, dancing in time with the rise and fall of your bodies. Loki’s name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and he shuddered against you, his hands tightening on your skin.
“Say it again,” he pleaded softly, his voice trembling as he kissed the hollow of your throat. “Say my name.” AS she push into you again.
“Loki…” you whispered, threading your fingers through his raven hair and holding him close.
His response was a broken sound—one you couldn’t decipher, though it clung to you like a promise. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body moulding to yours as though you could banish every ghost that haunted him. His movements long and fluid as his hips rocked back in forth, taking his time.
Hours seemed to pass as the two of you moved in tandem, unspoken words conveyed through every kiss, every touch, building heat and need that seemed to rope through both of your so tight it seemed ready to break.
“Loki…”
You couldn’t hold it anymore, your body thrummed now. As you whispered his name again, Loki's body tensed, his hips freezing for a moment before he began to move with a newfound urgency. His strokes were deeper, harder, and more insistent, as if he was trying to claim you, to mark you as his own.
Your body responded in kind, your walls clenching around him, holding him tight as you felt the tension build to a crescendo. The shadows on the walls seemed to grow longer, darker, as if they were feeding off the energy between you.
Loki's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, and claiming. His mouth was on your skin, kissing, biting, and sucking. You felt like you were being consumed, devoured by his passion, his need.
And then, in an instant, it was too much. Your body shattered, breaking apart into a thousand pieces as you came. The sound that escaped your lips was raw, primal, and unbridled, a scream of pleasure that was muffled only by Loki's hand over your mouth.
He followed you, his body jerking, convulsing, as he emptied himself into you, his breathing tight and strangled.
And when the embers in the hearth finally gave way to darkness, the two of you lay tangled together, the stillness broken only by the sound of your breathing.
Loki’s hand found yours, his long fingers weaving between yours as though anchoring himself to you. He said nothing, but when you glanced at him, his gaze held a softness that spoke volumes. He looked at you like you were the answer to a question he’d been too afraid to ask, the balm to a wound too deep to heal.
You reached up, brushing your knuckles against his cheek once more. “You mine to carry..” you said quietly.
Loki’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yours,” he murmured, pulling you closer until his forehead pressed against yours. “Mine.”
For tonight, at least, the ghosts that seemed to haunt his eyes were chased way.
The nights are getting cold and dark...so what better way to warm the heart (and other things) than with a collection of one-shots.
I'll be creating Winter Warmers additions to this collection and I would LOVE some help to spread the seasonal, serotonin-inducing cheer.
Fluff, Humour & Smut in any combo are welcome. Fics created with this in mind will be added to the collection list, just give Winter Warmers a shout out so I know it's intended and tag me 😊 Please link back to this post, so that others can find it too.
COLLECTION LIST
By the Light of the Fire
- @lokisgoodgirl (w/c 1k) - Fluff & Smut
Merry Christmas, Baby
- @pineappleandro (w/c 1.2k) - Fluff
A Walk in the Snow
- @lady-rose-moon (w/c 1.3k) - Fluff
Snowed In
- @simplyholl (w/c 1.2k) - Smut
A Taste of the Bubbly
- @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 (1.8k) - Smut
Excuses and Opportunities
- @muddyorbsblr (w/c 1.5k) - Fluff
I'm Dreaming of a Green Christmas
- @joyful-enchantress (w/c 2k) - Fluff
Merry Mischief
- @coldnique (w/c 2k) - Fluff
Sleigh Ride
- @lokisgoodgirl (w/c 1.5k) - Smut & Fluff
The Art of Decorating
-@fictive-sl0th (w/c 1.6k) - Smut & Fluff
A Winter's Night on Asgard
- @lokischambermaid (w/c 900ish) - Fluff
Winter Wonders
- @holdmytesseract (w/c 2.4k) - Fluff
Whiskey Kisses
- @gigglingtigger (w/c 2.1k) - Fluff & Smut
Pancakes, Poetry and Orgasms
@lokisgoodgirl (w/c 2.1k) - Fluff and Smut
Last Christmas on Midgard
@chantsdemarins (w/c 3k) - Smut
A Winter Drabble
@lady-rose-moon (w/c 400) - Smut
Little Joys
@lovelysizzlingbluebird (w/c 3k) - Fluff
Snowball Fight
@lokischambermaid (w/c 900ish) - Fluff & Light Smut
On the Naughty List
@joyful-enchantress (w/c 4.3k) - Smut & Fluff
The Invisible Woman
@gigglingtigger (w/c 2.7k) - Fluff
A Christmas Wish
@simplyholl (w/c 1.2k) - Smut
Aurea Lokialis
@fictive-sl0th (w/c 2.5k) -Fluff
Just For Us
@coldnique (w/c 1.7k) - Fluff
Deal with the Devil
@holymultiplefandomsbatman (w/c 885) - Smutty
Sharing Favourites
@wolfmoonmusic (w/c 1.5k) - Fluff
All I Want for Christmas
@lokisgoodgirl (w/c 1.7k) - Fluff
My Raven
@ thomase1 (wc 3.5k) - Fluff
By the Fireplace
@holdmytesseract (w/c 2.7k) - Fluff
Feast
@simplyholl (w/c 800ish) - Smut
Soup
@lokischambermaid (w/c 800ish) - Fluff
A Winter's Dance
@xorpsbane (w/c 1.5k) - Fluff & Humour
All Wrapped Up
@muddyorbsblr (w/c 6.5k) - Fluff & Smut
Devil's Dance
@fictive-sl0th (w/c 1.5k) - Fluffy & Smuttish
A Clandestine Christmas: Clandestine F*cks
@lokisgoodgirl (w/c 2.9k) - Humour & Smut
Snowfall
@melodylnoelle (w/c 1.1k) - Fluff
Yuletide Delights
@cake-writes (w/c 2.6k) - Smut
Flavors
@mochie85 (w/c 1.5k) - Smut
Dear lord. This was supposed to be my wholesome addition to @lokisgoodgirl “Winter Warmers” collection. It quickly became an angst-filled mini-epic! I guess I just can’t do fluff and happy endings! It was originally conceived as a “remix” to the classic Wham! song “Last Christmas”. I followed the video for a lot of inspiration, but things got out of hand. Included are the screenshots from the original Wham! video throughout! Loki is played by Andrew Ridgeley and Thor is of course George Michael. 😵
I hope someone out there enjoys it! If so, please reblog and comment. Your comments are the world to me!!
Smut level: 🔥🔥🔥
Summary: You are surprised to find your prayers answered, it's just not the right brother. Or is it?
It had been Thor’s lust and immaturity, perhaps.
Beyond your ideas of what was possible, he came to you one day as you were finishing your duties. It took all your strength to believe it. The daughter of a clan chieftain who shouldn’t have been praying to Norse gods. Yet he heard you.
Christianity had taken root in most of your village, except you couldn’t help to ask any raven you saw to send a prayer up to Thor. Find him in Asgard. The god you loved the most. The god that had stolen your heart. In the depths of your reverence, you laid flowers next to the Yew tree for the Norn’s blessings. You asked Freya to help Thor know your pleas.
In your wildest dreams, you never honestly expected him to come down to you in a thunderous snowstorm…
You never expected him to hear you.
You never expected him to fall in love with you.
You never expected him to offer Idunn’s apple.
You never expected him to disappear.
One thousand years is a long time to wait…
Pommes du Luc Ski Chalet, 1986
Saas-Fee, Switzerland
“Being stuck on Midgard is lame,” Loki mused while twirling his fingers around the red ribbon of a present before laying it back under the admittedly impressive, haphazardly assembled Midgard Christmas tree Volstagg had dragged in from the mountainside. His earnest attempt to make the best of their wanting situation.
“There could be worse things, brother, like being stranded on Muspelheim with Surtur using one of us as kindling,” Thor laughed, pouring his brother another stein of grog.
Loki clasped the drink dismissively and took a large swig. He stalked his lithe body across the large A-frame house to look out the window. It was snowing, yet again.
Thor joined Loki near the window, his large paws slapping his back, causing him to spit up some of his drink in a thin spray. He looked keenly at his brother, his blue-green eyes matching the icy weather conditions.
“At least you aren’t blaming me this time. You know we are both stranded here until father lets us come back. It’s equally both of our faults….”
“It’s mostly your fault Thor of course, but I take some of the blame-otherwise the fun I had participating would be for naught,” Loki winked and smirked simultaneously.
Wanting to change the subject to pursue the delight of his thoughts, Thor continued. “Moreso, you realize that neither of us knows how to ski,” he said looking out at the snow-covered mountainside.
“It’s rather ironic, don’t you think? We battle elves and other rather rare life forms with various life-ending capacities, yet we don’t know how to balance on these Midgardian twigs,” Thor philosophically pointed to the lavish display of skis lined up beneath the windowpane.
“At least I know how to surf,” Loki said with a self-assured laugh.
Thor wrinkled his forehead.
“No, you don’t, brother. I’ll wager 17,000 leagues of Vanir Andara.”
Just then, Fandrall woke from his nap to interject a brief sentiment.
“He’s lying. Thor. Let me tell the tale of Brazil once I’m sober enough to drag up the past without passing out from laughter.”
With this admission, Loki promptly threw his scarf at him, which he swatted away and quickly put around his neck. He relished the smell of cedar, smoke, and bergamot that danced around Loki’s being and clung to all his clothes.
“Smells like you,” he said, sniffing it yet again.
“Breathe deep, for this is the only way you shall receive the totality of my essence,” Loki gestured and bowed, perhaps slightly mocking the Allfather.
“Sure,” Fandrall laughed before wrapping the scarf tighter and closing his eyes again, drifting back into his drunken slumber.
Thor caught the faint whiff of his brother’s innuendo toward Fandrall. Never knowing exactly how to process Loki’s rakish gestures, he cleared his mind and returned to his assessment of their situation.
The truth was they had angered their father. They had angered Heimdall. Frigga was also none too pleased. The Bifrost was temporarily closed. There was no way off Midgard for the time being. They were both given a simple enough task, and both princes failed. Much worse, they had endangered the lives of the other court warriors. It was a rare event when both princes got in trouble simultaneously. They had been careless with a missive, and it had fallen into the wrong hands setting back years of diplomacy. Now they were stuck and without seiðr until they could answer their father’s rather cryptic riddle.
“Find the heart of the mountain and melt the ice that has grown around it.”
“Allfather’s riddle is lame, too,” Loki croaked out loud, thinking about it for a moment.
Thor, mainly the more immature and loyal one, agreed with his brother.
“Yeah, it is rather dumb. Why must we solve a riddle? Can’t father just punish us in some other, more sensible way? I was never good at riddles,” Thor was growing more pained by the moment.
“Well, brother, you are always in luck while I am around, for as you are most likely keenly aware, I am a master at riddles and will soon have this one solved,” Loki boasted.
Thor rolled his eyes. Loki continued, plans emerging in his head.
“But I ask, why rush back? We have this bleak yet relatively well-appointed human cabin. It’s almost Midgard’s “Christmas”, as Vollstag has helped us make merry with this tree,” he pointed at the dry-looking pine in the corner.
“Perhaps, I should head into Saas-Fee and see who I can wrangle up. Maybe we should have a little faire la fête, as the Midgardians do this time of year?”
Thor looked intently at Loki, his skepticism not well hidden.
“To lighten the mood?” Loki said, twirling around, letting his boots spin him along the smooth wood floor.
Still no response from his brother.
“Right, you’d think Ragnarök happened by how everyone is acting,” Loki mused, looking at the cacophony of drunken warriors laid out in piles, sunken into bean bag chairs, and wrapped in throw rugs. Reassuring himself of the grandeur of his new plan, he prattled on.
“We just made a mistake, and it will be fixed soon. Until then, we celebrate!”
With that statement, Loki opened the heavy door and braced himself in the snow. He turned around briefly to see his brother shaking his head before closing the door.
The path to town was covered in thick snow, and Loki was ill-dressed for the trek. He looked down at his shiny black Comme des Garcons boots with disdain. The leather was already buckling—the travails of Midgardian geography, so much damn snow.
“Ugh. Another pair ruined,” he sputtered as he pursued the barely visible path.
By the time he reached the only tavern in town, he was thoroughly soaked all over, not just his boots. Entering the dark building, Loki noticed the patron’s chatter came to a brief lull. He was used to making an appearance, so he was not bothered. He sat in a rather fancy booth and took off nearly all his clothes, causing more of a stir with the celebratory gawking patrons. His sweater, ski pants, and socks came off until he was wearing nothing more than his plaid shirt and tight jeans. He moved his hands through his inky wet locks, gently pulling out the wet knots, slightly frustrated.
“Why didn’t I just wear a hat,” he mumbled, looking at his reflection in the glass-framed vintage absinthe poster in his booth.
He looked around the Midgard tavern, stealing glances with the onlookers. Unfortunately, none of the people were attractive to Loki. They were almost as boring as his fellow warriors napping back at the lodge. Except for one possibility, Loki had scouted out early upon his arrival.
You had been drinking yourself into a stupor all afternoon. You hated the holidays. Especially Christmas.
In your dizzying consumption, you didn’t notice the calamitous man god enter and immediately disrobe in the furthest back booth. How could you? After five drinks in, you could barely make eye contact with the overly nice Swiss wait staff to procure you yet another cocktail.
“Un autre verre,” you spoke, again and again, barely audible to anyone other than trained tacticians of alcohol and imbibed patrons.
Loki thought someone with that kind of appetite for drinking before dinner must be a rather fun person, and likely she had some friends to bring along, who were equally as raucous.
Drink in hand, Loki made his way toward you.
Scooting in, he slid between you and the other partaker on the next bar stool. His thin yet muscled frame, a paper gliding into an envelope. His smile arriving before his words, he put his slightly damp handsomeness to good use.
“What do you say? Can I get you another round of whatever you are having? Whisky sour, is it?” Loki inspected her glass, briefly picking it up and swirling the brown liquid in the dim tavern light. Correcting his immediate rejection of the smell with another wide smile.
Slightly aghast at his sheer audacity, you batted his hand away. A pause before speaking hung in the air as you collected your sprawling thoughts on this man.
“Look, buddy, this isn’t 1977. A woman can sit at a bar and have her drink and not be bothered,” you coldly replied, pulling your glass closer to your person, making a skittering sound across the bar. Loki was slightly perturbed but not yet daunted.
He liked you, a challenge.
On Asgard and practically any other realm, including Midgard-women (and most men) usually fell prey to his charm eventually. Although feeling the sting of your unkind words, perhaps he was misguided in thinking that you were, well…fun?
Taking a moment for himself, too, he thought carefully about what to do next.
Lost in thought, he drummed his long fingers along the bar to the songs from the old jukebox. You were likely what they called “feminist” on Earth he decided. Or maybe worse, you were scorned? Loki began to conjure all kinds of less tantalizing possibilities. He could still depart from your range and go to any other starry-eyed woman on the premise. Yet, he felt he must proceed.
You continued drinking while he was thinking, eventually gesturing to the wait staff to refill your glass again. You turned slightly to avoid this man and return to your thoughts, which were enough for you, and only you, thank you very much.
Languidly you pulled out a pack of cigarettes procured in Paris last Spring. What a treat from your usual hand-rolled. They were long, like your legs, and you liked how they delicately framed your face as you smoked them. Lighting one up, you took a long drag, inhaling, luxuriating. Smoke billowing, obscuring, creating a pillow of silence around you.
You hoped he would get the hint.
After some time and about three Fleetwood Mac songs later, Loki was done pretending he was listening to the music. It was decided he would go another route to entice your interest. You could be a bad girl deep down, and a little frisky yet direct wordplay might just turn your attitude around. He needed to let you know just what he wanted. Leaning in again, Loki made his second attempt.
“My little pet, you are delightful. So full of energy. Let me invite you to a little soiree up the mountain. My brother and I are looking for beautiful women like you to accompany us.”
This was the last straw. You promptly turned your body and looked at Loki with a coy smile, concealing the boiling vitriol behind your sugary pink lip gloss. You blew a thick cloud of smoke directly in his face.
“You minx!” he yelled a little too dramatically as you reached over and left the wait staff money for your tab.
Pulling your puffer jacket on and zipping up quickly, you knew you better exit the scene before this man could stop you with another word or by the reach of his long limbs. You were out the tavern door and peeling towards your chalet down the street.
Yet, of course, he followed you.
Leaving all his winter gear behind, Loki ran through the puffy soufflé of snow in just his flannel. His still-wet hair immediately froze into charcoal icicles. It was very illogical, and Loki chastised himself internally as he ran.
Why bother with this woman? Clearly, she was not interested in his company. Likely 20 other women (and some men) in the tavern would have certainly been a “YES” and not required such theatrics. He yelled at you. You kept walking faster, slightly jogging now. Maybe it was time to try his modest charm. He switched gears yet again.
“By the Norns, why are you running? I’m sorry, my lady, if I have offended you,” Loki choked out as he tried to keep pace with you, finally catching up, arms flapping.
You stopped. You replayed what you thought you had just heard.
“By the Norns.”
It echoed in your head as if you’d suddenly been transplanted into a canyon. A lightning bolt struck you dead in your tracks. You could barely turn to look this stranger in the eye.
“Who are you?” was the only thing that came out of your mouth. Your eyes narrowed as if squinting would reveal something of this man’s heritage and identity.
“Who am I?” He repeated in shallow breaths. Loki was slightly put off. He hadn’t thought this far in advance, was he to tell the woman his real name? You tried to speak again.
“The only time I’ve heard that spoken in the last thousand years was from a Viking.”
He couldn’t be.
It just couldn’t be.
Although looking at him and adjusting your gaze in the singular light of the streetlamp, your mind slowly made a match. He did look familiar, but it was so so long ago.
“Who are you? I should be asking, perhaps,” Loki mused, now wide-eyed. His attention laser-focused on you. The mention of a “thousand years” perked his interest in you even more.
He didn’t expect to find anyone other than your typical Midgardian bores tucked away in these mountains. You were different, not just because you rebuked him. He sought you out. It wasn’t just your negative attitude that attracted him.
You stood near him, looking at every detail. His light eyes, his dark hair. His almost perfect triangle nose. The last time you saw him was from a distance when he arrived to fetch his brother and take him back to Asgard.
Your lover god. Thor. In the woods of Norvegr.
Loki looked closer at your jacket. It appeared like any old puffer ski jacket, except for the diamond and crystal broach you wore on the lapel. You had worn that broach every day for the last thousand years. Almost without thought, you fastened it to your clothing every day since Thor gave it to you.
“Mother’s broach,” Loki thought to himself as he looked up from your lapel and into your searching eyes. His face stone, unmoving. Shock rolled through him.
At this moment, he was confident playing all his cards was not what the occasion called for.
You instinctively placed your hand on it protectively when you caught him looking at it. Time stilled. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Emotions long gone came thundering back like your lost god, but his brother was now before you.
Not Thor.
Not the man you had given your maidenhood to all those years ago.
Not the man who told you that you would be queen someday.
Not the man who gave you Indunn’s apple.
Not the man who made you immortal.
The wind picked up, blowing your hair, and a new wave of snow began falling on you both. You wondered what alchemical spell had brought this day to you after so long. No contact. Nothing. You had given up.
Thor had disappeared. Wearing the broach had become routine, although it was barely connected to the past. If the concept of the past even existed in your eternal life.
Loki cut the silence, as he was keen to do. He wanted his following words to you to be the most careful yet.
“Dear woman, I don’t mean to bother you. I intended to invite you to a party, that is all. Now I see I’ve caused you harm. I must ask, though, do we know one another?”
He concealed what he suspected deep within his being just in case you might be able to read his mind or his auric field. You also could not tell him the truth. You knew that much.
If this was indeed Loki, the god of chaos, brother of Thor, he could use your words against you or worse. You were living on borrowed time from Asgard after all.
You spoke again, each word tenderly cloaked.
“We do not know one another, but I am also not entirely like the people here in this village, as it seems you might have noticed.”
“I did notice,” Loki spoke back with a sanguine hush, a purposeful caution edging on something more.
“That is why your mention of the Norse gods took me aback, I have some familiarity with them, but it was long ago.” That was all you would ever say you decided. That was enough. If he was clever at all, he could draw his own conclusions.
“How long ago did you have familiarity with them? If you don’t mind, just a few more questions.”
Loki was surprising himself in this conversation. In another instance, he might had you up against the wall of the corner drug store, one of his knives curled to your neck, forcing a confession. But he did not have his magic, and in this vulnerable state, he defaulted to using his silver tongue instead of his silver blade.
“I do mind, and I am done answering your questions. I am going to retire to my home, um, sir, I didn’t get your name.”
“Loki. My name is Loki.”
There it was.
Memory is a fragmented thing after so many years. If your life had ended when it should have, perhaps at 35, you might not have the darkness in your heart. Darkness prompted moving from village to village when your family and friends died, and you didn’t.
A darkness that you tried to enliven with dalliances into different religions, each with its unique unsatisfactory conclusion. The darkness you tried to quell with lovers and with liquor.
Eventually, you only thought of Thor every hundred years or so. Every hundred years you let yourself still wonder.
Would the gods be back?
Would your god-king return?
Every hundred year you sent silent prayers to Odin’s raven, even if they were with half your heart.
Stilling the shiver pulsating through you, you pulled your arms close to your body.
They were back. Both brothers. Both gods. Broken through the veil of the Christian god and here back on Midgard.
You could not ask about his brother waiting around at the chalet for him to return. You could not step forward or backward. You could not speak Thor’s name.
Loki noticed your hesitation and fright, his annoyance and curiosity changing into concern. He was now sure you would not be heading back to the party with him.
He wondered how much time he had. Were Thor and the rest decorating and waiting for him to return with a crowd? What about the riddle he tasked himself to solve with his superior intellect so they could go home…
His attention had wandered intimately, and completely to this stranger. These earlier concerns seemed so very far away now. Whoever you were, you were hiding your identity, and without his powers or magic, he wouldn’t know who you were unless you told him.
He knew you were beautiful, and the more licentious part of his being wondered if maybe the right thing to do would be to return to your place with you.
Would you soften if he confessed what he knew of the Vikings too? Were you a kind of Midgardian planet-bound Valkyrie? Unable to leave the gravity of this banal realm?
These thoughts ran wild in his mind as he carefully considered if he should let you go.
You knew he didn’t want you to leave.
It seemed that the Norns were overriding all the time you usually spent avoiding contact with others. This was a moment to either tell Loki everything or simply be quiet, reveling in your answered prayers, which were somehow heard once again. They had been heard once before by Odin’s ravens, after all, it shouldn’t be so shocking to finally have it happen again.
But instead of bringing you back to Thor, they brought you, his brother. Loki.
Were the Norns asking you to be twice a concubine to the gods?
This time you were not a naïve village girl.
This time your earnest reverence had been tempered with knowing both passion, love, and disappointment. You knew how life on Earth worked by now and this time your prayers were answered, it was going to go a different way.
Taking in the visage of Loki’s crestfallen and reserved demeanor, you spoke gently. The Norns were playing with your frozen heart.
He was in fact very handsome. More handsome in some ways than your Thor. You could tell Loki’s whole existence was based on rearranging reality, stirring the pot. He wasn’t one for morals or any Midgardian principles of peace the many religions of the populace extolled. You liked that.
You hadn’t felt this kind of madness, this kind of power, in so long. The more you stared at Loki, the more the feeling grew. This power you once felt in your Viking village. The reason you prayed to Thor. You cherished the Norse gods still as much as you had tried to forget about them.
Could you take this man before you home? This god of mischief, could you take him into your body as you had his brother so easily? Not any ordinary woman could change her heart like this, lean into the plaid shirt wearing destiny before her. You were not ordinary.
Finally, you spoke. “I live nearby. It might be nice to talk about the old days for a while. Since you seem to also know about them. Only If you promise not to ask why I know about the old days in 1986.”
Loki looked flummoxed. You had taken the words from him—a rare thing for a human to do.
You had asked him over first; he was not in need of seducing you.
You both walked quickly in the bracing air, watching one another with growing interest. Loki could not shake his need to know just who you were, although his other need to bed you seemed to be taking precedence over getting to the truth. When you arrived to the chalet, you turned the lights on briefly to find matches so you could light candles. You flicked the lights back off quickly when the flames held your tiny house with enough light to see his face and his tall thin frame. You knew he must be freezing.
To warm things up you turned on the old space heater and rubbed your hands together. Loki was shaking. Resisting the urge to coil your body next to his, evoking the ancient snake rituals you could only vaguely recall, you only let your hand rest on his for a few seconds too long as you handed him a blanket.
“No Christmas decorations for you then?” Loki laughed as he surveyed the bare, dimly lit front room. His usual bravado was not on full display in this unfamiliar situation.
“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you said flatly, nervously.
“That explains your cheerful disposition then,” Loki jested.
You laughed. An earnest laugh. You were remiss about what to do next. Offer him another drink? You were quite drunk still. In fact, you wondered if in your drunken state you were imagining all this. A cruel trick.
As the heater kicked in, off came more clothes. Leaving only your black turtleneck and corduroys remaining. Next, you unraveled your hair from its braid, placing your barrettes on the side table, it was relaxing, it felt like the home you knew so long ago. Although another drink would be nice. You both needed your nerves settled.
So, whisky from the cabinet was poured into diminutive glasses. Loki started talking about how interesting it was to meet someone who knew of the Norns. His voice sounded like ocean waves coming and going. It was hard to find his exact words in the swell. The low rumble of each sentence felt controlled by the moon or something even more mysterious.
It was intoxicating. Thor did not have this effect on you, you remembered as much.
The anti-hero, it seemed, had more verve.
Not to be too taken by Loki, you remembered bad boys could be easy to let go of. They were often the first ones to leave anyway. Thor wasn’t a bad boy-he was summoned back to Asgard.
This Loki would likely go on his own even before coffee.
The night wore on and eventually you were sitting wrapped in blankets, holding your whisky, talking in what seemed endless cantos. Your voice joined his ocean huskiness until a sweet murmur flowed. You didn’t realize how much you needed to discuss the old world with someone who knew it as you did. Somehow, you’d won the favor of the Allfather once again. You were two drunk strangers nested in the protection of Yggdrasil’s branches. Time had moved and yet not moved at all.
You said his name, “Loki,” and placed your hands on his legs, fingers finding their way under the coarse wool. It was now or never, you supposed, as the sun began to rim the outline of the mountains—nearly dawn.
You were not going to hang on to this god. No tears. No wailing.
You were going to let him go so you better hurry up having him.
Loki was seemingly at your service. Besotted, he let you take the lead.
Your hands removed the blankets from his body, his skin now warm and growing warmer with your nimble hands finding buttons, clasps, and pulling sleeves off his body. You used your teeth, nearly nipping his skin, causing a quick inhalation of air from Loki as he helped you remove his clothes.
He leaned into your body, his head in the crook of your neck, turning his face upward, his blue-green princely eyes taking you in. He finally remarked how truly beautiful you were, kissing you deeply, tongue folding into your mouth, hands holding the back of your head.
“This evening sure took a detour.” He laughed, slightly self-consciously, in whispers.
“I don’t think this is a detour Loki, I knew what I was doing inviting you over.”
“But you nearly poured your drink on my head earlier, and you blew smoke in my face,” he continued laughing in between kissing your neck.
“If those were your real pick-up lines, then I’m sorry,” you smiled pulling back from him slightly. His naked form was gorgeous to behold. When Loki noticed your eyes drinking in every inch of him, he laughed even more.
“Hardly fair, I’m naked, and you still have your clothes on.”
You shrugged your shoulders and smiled.
“I think we need to fix this,” Loki spoke softly as he took off your shirt.
Naked, after some awkward adjustments, including a bra clasp that was apparently broken, Loki’s hands were once again on you, worshipping your body.
The long fingers that earlier in the evening were swatted away when they grabbed your drink at the tavern were now not nearly deep enough inside you. You felt his cock on your stomach. He was impossibly hard, but you were begging for more—one more finger inside you.
Loki could read your mind and crept down the length of your body until his mouth found your wet folds. His fingers and his mouth moved in tandem. You arched your back, spreading your legs in a reverent gesture. You thought briefly of the prayers you had sent to Odin’s ravens to have Thor back, the god you loved. How immature you were even at your age. You hadn’t consciously considered. Perhaps Thor had not been your destined lover all along.
The raven had flown your message to another god.
Loki. Loki.Loki.
You called his name aloud as he sunk his cock inside you. Your hands held on to him with all your life. The lewd noises from his cock slamming inside your welcoming body flushed your cheeks. It had been a while. You forgot what being fucked shamelessly sounded like.
“Open your eyes, dove. I want you to feel this and see it. I want you to look down.” Loki growled into your neck.
You barely dared to glance-but you lifted your body and looked at the god between your legs.
His cock was the most glorious sight. Your cheeks deepened their color as you brought your eyes back to his. His breathing was unsteady.
“You are so beautiful. I wanted you to see how beautiful your pussy looks with my cock inside it,” his words barely audible. He was picturesque. His cock was stunning. His body. His finely hewn muscles. His large hands were holding on to you for dear life. His thighs were holding you hostage.
“Come for me my dove, come for me, whoever you are,” Loki said as he skillfully slammed his body deeper and deeper into your core.
Your immortal strength had rarely been tested with any human lovers. This seemed an apt moment to try it out with Loki. You were never able to do so with Thor.
Suddenly you flipped him over. The shock of being flung startled him as you pinned his hands down to the floor and rode him harder. Harder. Unable to hold you, unable to do anything but be rode, Loki’s orgasm arrived unexpectedly. His growl became a scream, and he finally wrestled his hands from yours.
Grabbing your hips, he bounced you up and down on his cock with all his strength, your body almost unable to stay upright, only his massive cock holding you in place. You felt him come inside you, and as he slowed his movements, you found your release too. You were finally closing your eyes. Savoring. You both lay still, perhaps shocked at the perfection that just occurred.
Dawn soon flooded the room, and the rising sun dwarfed the candlelight. Loki was on the verge of falling asleep. His naked, well rode body was strewn akimbo on the floor. Swaths of light colored his alabaster skin a light citrine. He was magnificent.
“It’s morning, Loki. You must go,” you said after the tiniest inner debate on the merits of exchanging phone numbers or whatever you did in 1986. One thousand years ago, things were a little more severe. Queen, wife-something permanent. Something forever. Not so today.
“You’re kicking me out?” Loki opened his eyes and turned his body to face yours, hands running up and down your body as you attempted to cover it with a blanket.
“I thought maybe we could stay in touch?” Loki said awkwardly.
“Or have breakfast? This seems incredibly too short of an encounter,” he lingered on your neck, peppering kisses again.
“Really?” you said, keeping your cool.
“What about that big party you and your brother are throwing? I am sure there will be many women there once you return their glances. Even when I was rejecting you, don’t think I didn’t see them all staring at you,” you admitted.
Loki sat up. He was confused. Even after passionately fucking this woman, he was still not willing to divulge who he was, and he could tell she was also not readily going to confess anything further.
“The party was a dumb idea,” Loki now felt sheepish.
“When my brother and I get together and cause trouble sometimes I like to make it worse.”
“The old gasoline on the fire thing, huh?” you replied.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Is that what this was to you Loki? More trouble?”
Loki paused. Now even more unsure.
“No, it wasn’t. It was real. I wanted to spend the night with you. I didn’t want to bring you back to our chalet, to the party,” Loki mused. Pressure building in his chest. Nerves or something else.
He had said too much to you already.
He jumped up, dressing quickly not looking further at you. You were also hurriedly putting something on, just enough to see him to the door where you hoped he was heading. As much as this might be something, for all the pain being in love with one god caused, being in love with another was an equally bad prospect. You knew this. You were sticking to your guns. No more gods.
Realizing there was a long walk ahead for him and he was still woefully underdressed he sighed in defeat. Maybe he could just stay for coffee?
Then suddenly something happened. In the blink of an eye, Loki was wearing the jacket he left at the tavern. Your jaw dropped open.
“What,” you yelled, walking towards him feeling his chest, pulling at the fur-lined hood in disbelief.
“How?” you rubbed your eyes and blinked again, yes he was in fact wearing his coat now.
“Oh no,” Loki looked at you with embarrassment and with some nascent excitement.
“I think you owe me an explanation! How did you just make your coat appear?”
Knowing he was a god was one thing, but you honestly didn’t expect him to reveal himself in such a pedestrian kind of way. Where was the big fanfare? Weren’t Loki and Thor warriors with powers beyond the comprehension of mere mortals?
“I, I..well, I didn’t have this um ability earlier,” he quixotically spoke.
You were now in a bad spot. Was he going to say more? Would you have to now confess everything just because he magicked his coat from the pub?
It occurred to Loki at about the same time, that his seiðr had come back, he had obviously solved his father’s riddle. Loki stared at you.
You.
You were the riddle.
Your heart was frozen. He had melted it. How could Odin have known? He felt his own heart beating in his chest, if there had also been ice on it, it was a soggy mess. What had he done?
He needed to get back to Thor. No doubt the Bifrost would be pummeling from the sky at any minute. They needed to go home.
Knowing full well this lame magic was possible because he was a god you tried to put him at ease without revealing anything further.
“I’ll just chalk that up to me being still a little drunk Loki,” you laughed, trying to make him feel relieved. He smiled and a knowing look graced his face.
“Thank you for understanding, and not asking too many questions.”
“I could say the same thing about you mister,” you tried to be casual.
“Well then thank you for the beautiful evening,” Loki leaned down and kissed your forehead.
Feeling confused yet again, he was thankful to you for so many things.
“Wait Loki, I want you to have something,” you ran over to your own coat hanging on your wooden rocking chair. You carefully unpinned the broach. Holding it in your clasped hand, you fought back tears of a thousand years held in your heart. You couldn’t stop them. They cascaded down your face as you handed Loki the broach. Immediately Loki backed away from you.
“I can’t take this y/n. Obviously, this must mean something to you. Why would you give this to me?” Loki held your shoulders as you held your hand out to him. He was full of questions. He knew this broach was his mother’s. He still didn’t know why this woman he just made love to had it. It occurred to him that she was some Asgardian exile. Maybe she was a friend of his mother’s from long ago? He could not take it from her, he knew that much. He refused.
“You must take it Loki,” you raised your voice slightly.
“It was never mine to keep, none of this was.”
“What do you mean? None of this?”
You took his large hand in yours and placed the broach, folding his long fingers around it.
“Go.”
Stupefied, Loki did as you asked.
“I do hope our paths cross again my lady, there are so many things left unsaid,” he bowed slightly and hesitantly left. As the door closed you fell in a heap against it.
With his seiðr restored Loki immediately returned to the chalet to find his friends packed and ready to leave. Obviously, they had their powers back as well. Thor stood unceremoniously in his blue jeans, hands on his hips.
“I see that you were in no hurry to return to us Loki, we’ve been waiting since near dawn.”
Loki scoffed, “I see you are unthankful, for it was me that solved father’s riddle.”
Thor narrowed his eyes. “Brother, do tell us how you did it.”
“A woman.”
“If that is not the most unoriginal thing I have ever heard!” Thor was really laughing now.
“Let me guess your gracious powers as a lover solved the riddle.”
“Something like that,” Loki offered, fiddling with the broach in his pocket.
“Here. You should give this back to mother,” Loki pulled the diamond broach out of his pocket all the way and placed it in Thor’s shocked hand.
He inspected it, his face growing pale. It couldn’t be. You.
Loki could swear he heard the faint crackle of thunder in the air.
With his voice raised at least ten octaves, Thor yelled at Loki.
“Brother where in all the nine realms did you GET THIS!”
Dearest Loki passed away a little while ago. I just kept forgetting to do a rememberance post... but here it is! Loki was a sweetie. He had a twin brother named Thor who passed quite some time ago. Loki was an escape artist. He was always finding ways out of his cage and so we had to change his cage multiple times... little brat! I loved it though... Well, except for when he left the dresser he was on and disappeared in the room for a day or more. But he always came back to his cage: knowing it's where he had food, water and safety. Thankfully the cats and dogs living here don't try to eat them or it wouldn't have been good for this little escapee! As for passing away, it was quick. Loki did not appear to be in any pain. He was there one day and the next he was not. Age is what most likely claimed his life. Despite being very small in size (probably due to his mom being extremely tiny for a rat... we started thinking she was a mouse when she took so long to grow haha), he was in his older years. He lived a good fulfilling life though. I hope he was happy and comfortable during his time here with me. RIP Loki! | Small Pets Blog
