Loki owns every single ounce of soul and my body radiates an overwhelming amount of uwu energy every time I see him it’s unhealthy. In other words, i wanna marry him oeriodt
good news babe, now you can ;)
here it is folks, the wedding of you and Loki.
it’s just the ceremony, i might do something about a reception later and will definitely be doing some honeymoon stuff !! but for now…here’s a very long piece about your wedding! ENJOY.
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Loki Laufeyson is not a simple man.
Hell, he’s barely a man.
Everything concerning Loki is complicated; his past, his present, his future, his heritage, his family, his species, his abilities, his ambitions, his reasoning…
The list goes on.
You knew this. You know this, and yet here you are, stepping out from behind an oak tree, giggling and barefoot and arm in arm with your best friend, coming to greet him at the alter.
Nothing has ever been simple. Not when you met him and you each tried your respective times to kill each other, not when he spent a couple years convincing himself he hated you and that’s why you were in his head all the time, not when he had to somehow win your trust.
It’s been complicated. Complicated fights, complicated dates, complicated forgiveness.
A complicated wedding, too, which is why you’d agreed to just have a tiny little wedding in an Asgardian forest, miles out from the border, with barely ten people invited to attend.
The bigger ceremony can happen later. Right now, with the setting sun glowing off Loki’s pale skin, all that matters is making him yours.
It’s surprisingly simple, actually. Loki’s surprised. A couple chairs were set up in a little clearing of trees, shrouded by the oak branches with only a few rays of evening sunlight seeping through, and a walkway of smooth stones had been laid as a kind of alter.
No giant centrepieces to decide on, no music to choose, no kingdoms you have to invite so they don’t get offended, no sacrificial goat to find. Tonight, all you have to worry about is that Thor doesn’t cry too much while he officiates, thus setting the wedding back an hour.
And that you don’t completely lose your shit.
He looks so good.
You’ve never seen Loki looking so…so relaxed, so casual, so sure of himself. He looks confident, for once, genuinely confident in what he’s doing—or about to do.
On the inside, though, he’s a wreck. A nervous, giddy wreck, positive that you’re going to turn on your heel and run away, going to look once at him and find him disgusting, just as you should have since the moment he fell for you, just as you did the moment you met.
His hands shake and he shoves them in his pockets, swallowing hard when you step out from behind the tree.
Your friend insisted on that—“you still need a grand entrance, I wanna see if he cries”—and since there’s only an archway of tree branches tied together with fairy lights for you to walk through, the tree trunk will have to do as a cover.
You’re just as nervous as Loki, if you’re being completely honest. Just…marrying him.
This is kind of a big deal.
A little bit life changing, really, and when you think back to all that had to happen to get you to this point, the nervousness just multiples.
But, the smile that paints your face is in every way childish. Ridden by giggles, a nervous, anxious, excited mess of emotions and then you see him, waiting for you, and the space between you seems infinite and nonexistent at the same time.
Loki’s breath catches.
A sniffle is heard from the make-shift alter—not from the groom. Thor rubs his eyes and stands up straighter, trying his absolute hardest not to pull his brother into a bone-crushing hug.
Loki looks different.
Different than when you first met him. His hair is different, a little longer, cleaner, not so messy and untamed, tied half-up with a couple braids hidden in his almost curls. The thin gold cuffs at the ends of each braid glint in the sun when he moves.
He’s not covered in blood and rubble like he was when you met him, either. He’s not so pale, not so thin, so gaunt, and his eyes are much closer to green than blue when you meet his gaze and give him an excited, scrunched-up little smile.
Loki smiles back and that’s when it hits him: his eyes are swimming in seconds and he chews his lip, casting his gaze to the trees above and praying the tears don’t fall.
Things like this…don’t happen to Loki Laufeyson.
He doesn’t get the girl, doesn’t get to have a beautiful wife. An intimate, beautiful wedding is just something he dreamt of as a child, something that helped him fall asleep, just like that immature dream of having someone to hold close every night, lured to sleep by their warmth.
A few steps closer, he has to swipe a hurried hand over his cheek, and you bite back another excited laugh—there. You got him to cry.
You never thought you’d be the person to make someone cry tears of joy on their wedding day, much less someone who cries so beautifully.
This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Loki cry, but it’s definitely your favourite.
Your hands meet before you’ve even noticed covering the distance. The coldness of his skin is normal now, for whatever the reason you’ve stopped caring, and you wind your fingers through his and grin at his teary face before turning to Thor.
“Hey,” Thor chokes out with a smile, “are you two ready?”
You nod, Loki wonders if no is even an option.
He’s not ready at all, because as soon as this starts, it’ll be over, and this beautiful little ceremony is an end he doesn’t want to face. He’s not done marvelling at you, his soon-to-be wife, he hasn’t fully memorised what you look like this evening, he isn’t ready to let it end and lose this dreamlike trance where no past can intrude.
But Thor starts talking anyways, interrupted by an occasional sniff, and Loki’s left grasping at the moment.
He hasn’t even gotten to look at you, to truly ingrain your image in his mind, so as Thor begins to recite the service he’s read over time after time again, Loki’s gaze turns to you and everything else seems to fall silent.
Blue.
He’d expected green, to be completely honest, you know what you do to him when you wear his colour, but you’d surprised him with the pale blue dress.
A wonderful decision he could never thank you enough for.
You’re…a dream. You could be a light elf, with the way the setting sun beams down on you, but no, actually, no light elf could even come close to comparing with your beauty.
The dress floats over you, thin straps keeping it secured over your shoulders, that pale blue fabric softer than silk when his hand slips helplessly to the small of your back.
You’re real, solid flesh and bone under his hand. Breathing, living, a bouquet of white roses and sparse, leafy twigs in one hand, the other finding its way to his back and rubbing soothing little circles.
He’s staring and doesn’t plan on stopping. You catch his eye and send him a comforting wink.
It’s a simple dress, nothing to distract from the wearer. His gaze travels the length of it, from your bare feet to the thin gold chains around your ankles, to the smile dusting your lips, to the crown of olive branches and tiny white flowers his brother just placed on your head.
You nudge him in the side.
“Hm?”
Your crown, you mouth, nodding at Thor. You okay?
Shaking himself out of his daze, Loki blinks and looks back at Thor.
“…sorry. Where are we?”
“I’m crowning you,” Thor whispers, holding up the other crown of olive leaves and flowers, the connecting satin ribbon tugging on yours as he does. “Remember? ‘With these crowns, your power becomes shared, and with these crowns, your rule becomes one, to grow only in unity and to prosper as—’”
“Alright, yes, yes, I remember.”
You bite back a laugh as Loki runs an exasperated hand over his face, then bows his head to allow Thor to place the other crown over his head.
“Hey, sunshine,” you whisper when you duck your head as well, taking his hand between the two of you. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” He squeezes your hand, a sideways smile flashing your way. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” you laugh quietly. “Now shush, this is important.”
“No, it’s not.” He knows he’s not necessarily supposed to touch you more than just holding your hand, but he strokes the backs of his fingers along your cheek anyways, smiling softly at you. “It’s not.”
“Shh.”
With a teasing roll of his eyes he turns his gaze back to the ground, hand dropping from your cheek back to hold your hand tightly between the two of you.
You do look beautiful in blue. Absolutely breathtaking, jaw dropping, stunning.
The longer he stands there, slowly forgetting who he is and focusing on who he’s going to become for you, the more he wishes he had told you his only secret.
Half of him thinks you might already know about his true heritage—the blue dress, the fact that you don’t ask why he’s so cold anymore. But…if you knew, you wouldn’t be standing next to him today, marrying him.
He wishes he had told you from the beginning.
“No good marriages begin with secrets.”
Frigga was an absolute hypocrite for telling him that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
He’ll tell you soon. He knows he will, or, honestly, he might just bury that monstrous part of himself so deep that you never have to know. It wouldn’t be living a lie if he forgets it’s part of his truth, right?
“I will.”
Damn it, he missed it.
“Wait—no, can you repeat that part?” He quickly blinks back to reality, cursing himself for being so consumed in his thoughts that he’s missing his actual wedding. “Sorry, sorry.”
Thor gives a knowing smile. “Of course. Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, to cherish and honour, to treasure and love until death do you part?”
“I will,” you repeat, the grin evident in your voice. “I will.”
Loki swallows thickly, eyes burning. You accepted him again. To have him, to keep him, to love him and allow him to be your husband.
People don’t…want him, Loki knows that.
Not his birth parents, not even his adoptive parents, not your world nor his own, everywhere he’s gone has rejected him. No one wants Loki.
You, though, seemed to have skipped right over wanting him and decided to love him.
Husband.
He likes the title more than he ever liked prince, and much more than he ever liked king.
“And will you, Loki, have this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, to cherish and honour, to treasure and love until death do you part?”
A couple birds chirp overhead.
“Loki?”
His eyes have glazed over, dewy skin glowing in the rays of sunlight, a strand of hair fluttering over his face every time the wind blows.
“Loki.” You nudge him in the arm, an amused smile playing at your lips. “Can you answer him? I’d really like to kiss you already.”
He chokes out a laugh at that, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, sheepishly trying to get a hold of himself. “Of course I will,” he laughs, looking up at the trees and letting out a long breath. “I will.”
Beaming at him, you give his hand another reassuring squeeze and nudge him again.
“I will,” he whispers once more, staring at you. “For all eternity.”
Ohhhh goodness.
Why does his softness make your heart ache like this, how did he become so gentle??
“Hurry up and finish,” you laugh to Thor, heart pounding. “I’m not gonna last much longer, he’s…god, he’s just…hurry.”
Loki’s heart sinks a little, he can’t help it. This is nice, standing here with you, his brother bringing you together, your closest friends and family sharing the moment. It’s nice and warm, and Loki feels surrounded by a strange sense of home, for once.
Don’t hurry. He closes his eyes to focus in on the feeling of your hand in his. Don’t hurry, don’t end this moment.
Warm skin, soft skin, gentle fingers. Only one ring on your ring finger so far, bringing him back to reality right as Thor hands him the small box holding the rings.
He lets out a shaky breath and you turn to him—this time, it’s your breath that catches.
You hadn’t quite fully taken in all of…him.
Loki smiles, turning to face you and holding out the rings in an open palm. “Shall we?”
“Wait,” you breathe, clutching his ring in a tight fist. “Give me a second, I-I need to memorise how…perfect my life is right now.”
His heart twists as you look around, an uncontrollable smile growing over your face as you take in the little clearing amidst the trees, the sun rays cutting through their canopies, the couple people watching, until your gaze lands back on Loki.
Your eyes burn as you look at him, your husband, with his anxious little shrug of did I do alright? in his navy trousers and loose white shirt, top buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows; a perfectly informal ensemble to hoist a middle finger to the attire the other wedding wanted him to wear.
He looks comfortable here. A little nervous, maybe, a little anxious and kind of like he’s worried you’ll run away any second, but it’s an endearing, comfortable look.
“Perfect,” you whisper again, smile damp with tears, and you grab his left hand. “Perfect, okay, let’s finish this, I can’t wait anymore…”
The ring slips easily onto his ring finger, somehow still warm against his skin, the gold band glinting in the remaining sunlight as he looks at it.
There. He grins, that little gold ring changing everything.
He’s yours.
Loki Laufeyson belongs to someone.
Someone who actually wants him, someone who loves him.
Taking your left hand in his, his eyes flit up to meet your grin as he brings it to his lips; a royal gesture for the only queen he’ll ever know. He guides the wedding ring onto your finger, caressing your hand with a gentleness you remember knowing he didn’t possess when you met.
His slender fingers close around your hand, cool as always and promising to never let you go.
Breathe.
Once he moves his hand, you look at the ring, shining against your skin—oh god…now you belong to someone, too.
And it’s someone who wants you, and—
“No,” Loki whispers, shaking you out of your thoughts, “I love you.”
Damn, you were doing so good with not crying.
Your husband—yeah, let’s say that again, your husband—starts chuckling, that beautiful rolling laughter cutting right over Thor’s recitations and prayers.
Hand in hand under the trees, Loki laughs, you try to stop the tears rolling down your grinning cheeks, and Thor skips over a few lines, his own laughter starting to cut through the recitations.
He’s speeding up the ceremony, clearly, mumbling through probably important prayers and vows, but you figure that’s probably best—if it lasts any longer, you’re going to combust.
Your husband’s lips seem to be in need of a good kissing.
Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity of not being able to wrap your husband in your arms, Thor closes his giant old ceremonial book with a snap.
You glance at Loki, then to Thor.
The two arguably strongest men you know, and both of them have tears pooling in their beautiful eyes.
“Thank you,” Thor whispers, laying his hand over you and Loki’s entwined hands and giving them both a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for letting me be a part of this, brother.”
Loki just nods, bottom lip disappearing between his teeth in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.
“Never doubt—” his voice cracks. “—th-that I love you.”
“I won’t.”
You can’t help but grin at them, the two brothers in their rare moments of softness, when all the warrior-guises, murky bloodlines, and pressures over a throne have worn away.
It’s…refreshing.
And to Loki, more than he ever could have hoped for.
“Alright,” Thor laughs, rubbing his damp eyes with two fingers. “Enough of that. You have a wife to tend to, brother, I’ve made you wait long enough.”
Loki’s hand tightens around yours and he catches your eye, an inevitable smile spreading over his face at the sight of you.
“I pronounce you husband and wife,” Thor announces, smiling broadly. “Now get on with it and kiss.”
It takes barely a single second before you’re dipped backwards, Loki’s arm around your waist as the other trails up to cradle your cheek, kissing you with the fervour of a man starved.
Kissing you like it’s the last thing in his life that he’ll ever, ever do, kissing you as if he just got to make you his and his alone.
Like he’s yours.
People have warned you about Loki’s “possessiveness.”
But right here, right now, with your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging to keep him from completely frenching you in front of his brother and your couple friends and family, you know you were right; he was never really a possessive lover.
He’s terrified, and you know this. Not possessive, just scared. And if any possession is playing a part in your relationship—no, marriage…
It’ll be the fact that Loki gets to consider himself officially, undeniably, forever yours.
See, Loki never needed a second chance.
You weren’t his redemption story, weren’t the kind one who “gave him a chance.”
You just…love the right parts of him.
It’s a beautiful thing, really.
To see someone grow from a pure, innocent child into a tortured soul who’s been beaten by the universe, convinced they have no place in this life, then to transform into the person of your dreams?
It’s simple.
Just find the bit of love that everyone holds somewhere in them, no matter how deeply buried it might be, and love that part of them until someday, they can love it, too.
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hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!
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