Wife Whispers, An Open Love Letter: Relationship Stuff with Loki, Part I
Tuesday, 26 May 2020
Content warning for mentions of sexual and romantic relations.
Something that might come as a surprise is that as far as the marriage proposal, I actually asked Loki, and it came after other humans and gods brought up his feelings and desires about marriage, after what I now see are pretty damn obvious signs, and after we had...dated? courted? been bonded mates?...for two years already and had children together.
Let’s start from the beginning. We’ve known each other since 2014 or 2015, so 5-6 years now. I actually avoided talking to him when he showed up, and when I did finally let him in, I took an instant liking to him. I craved being around him. Our relationship wasn’t romantic or sexual for a long time (approximately about three years!). It was easy, though, because being with him was easy. He was so sweet, sincere, caring, and genuinely funny. He made me laugh, and no matter how dark my day was, he could make me smile. He protected me when no one else in my life did. He never made any efforts to frighten me or to force me to like him. He didn’t throw himself at me like certain other gods I could mention.
We started off as loose acquaintances, then as friends and people working toward the same goal—“coworker” feels wrong here, maybe comrades? I don’t know where or when along the way I developed Feelings™️ for him, but I did grow to love him. I’m not sure if I was oblivious to them being romantic, or if everything started off as platonic, but soon I was consumed by them. I absolutely adored him. But I stuffed those feelings down deep and convinced myself that he could only ever see me as some silly, stupid little kid with a crush. That he could never be interested in someone like me. But countless readings from others, including totally blind readings, and even hints from Loki himself, indicated otherwise. I still couldn’t believe it. I avoided him for over a month, refusing to see him or speak to him. I wasted a month of both our time running from the reality of my feelings and the fear of rejection.
But with gentle prodding from friends, and even from a nature spirit I met only once who decided to give me advice, I called him. He came instantly like he’d been waiting for me to pick up and dial him, so to speak. I still hid, sort of. I was so scared that I didn’t let him see me when I spoke to him, terrified that he’d laugh at me, mock me, or worse, leave, terrified I’d break the relationship we had, because I’d rather suffer in silence to save our friendship than ruin it and never see him again. I confessed to him there in the dark, whispering, covering my face in shame, waiting for him to walk out or to ridicule me.
He didn’t. Everything wasn’t magically fixed then, but it got us talking, and it allowed me to tentatively be honest with him. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to proceed after that. Even Loki wasn’t sure what he wanted out of a relationship at that point. We just knew that we wanted to start something. I knew how much I wanted him, and with communication open again, I knew how much he wanted me, too. I’m an empath, but I’d closed off our connection when I was avoiding him. With it open again, I felt his love and his lust both, and let me tell you, Loki’s lust will knock anyone off their feet no matter how well-grounded they are. As it was, those two driving emotions of his were infectious and magnified my own.
It still took me a little bit, took a few more readings and inquiries, even with that knowledge, because I simply didn’t know what to do. I’m not going to lie: our first time was awkward, but that’s what first times are for, really: learning and exploration. I was, for lack of a better terminology, the awkward virgin, since I’d never been with a god, and he held back. He held back a lot, and I could tell. Despite how open he usually was with me, he was partially closed off and much more restrained than usual. The second time was much better and we both enjoyed it a lot more, but he still held back. Looking back, I think it was some combination of not wanting to scare, overwhelm, or traumatize me, not knowing what I’d respond to or like, not knowing what my personal boundaries were, and not knowing the best way to avoid hurting me.
I’m going to be honest: as much as we loved (and still love!) each other, not all of our times together at that point in time (and sometimes now, too, lol) were what someone would call “making love.” Sometimes we really did just fuck like rabbits in heat, but sometimes, sometimes, as cheesy as it sounds, it really was making love, was magic—the latter of which (“making love”) I’d say happens with 99.99% of our encounters now—less often, but often more intense and lasting for longer, and usually emotion-filled. Regardless, Loki was...is...so passionate, and so tender. Right now there are weeks that might pass without us being intimate in that way (although we still hang out, chat, kiss, cuddle), but that first month I think we had sex almost every day, sometimes more than once a day. It’s no small wonder I ended up conceiving, especially with a) how potent Loki is (I found out my astral species is pretty potent too, oops) and b) the fact that we didn’t use any form of protection at all at first, and then when we did it clearly wasn’t strong enough for us.
Our first child developed quickly. I don’t know how long I’d been knocked-up when I noticed. I don’t know if Loki didn’t notice or didn’t say anything, but by then she was a pretty well-defined ball of energy, though not too developed. It was still a pretty early pregnancy. I may have slightly freaked out a bit, because I didn’t even know pregnancy was a possibility. I reached out to friends and acquaintances, and I did some digging of my own and reached out to strangers who’d talked about it. One person (who’s now an ex-friend) actually told me outright that she thought I should have an abortion, full stop, and that was her two-cents. The pregnancy was unexpected and unplanned, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing or even a desire for children, but her forthrightness and immediately assuming that that’s what I should do or that that’s what I wanted shocked me. To be honest, the thought of aborting that then-fetus horrified me because of Loki’s history with losing children and family, and I didn’t want to contribute to his pain and grief. I explained this, and her response was essentially “fuck him, his feelings don’t matter in this.”
Which..I’m personally pro-choice, but I couldn’t imagine sitting Loki down and explaining how I’d terminated that little glowing orb we’d only just discovered together. I hadn’t even considered that as an option, and thinking of possibly making him cry or taking away another opportunity of parenthood for him killed me, and the callous way she told me to disregard him bothered me. I loved him, and I knew logically that he’d support my decision to do what was best for my body, no matter what that looked like, but I just...I couldn’t, you know? I looked at him and I couldn’t. So...I took in calmer sets of advice, and decided not to terminate. I had also, at that point, been neutrally told by a different someone with the experience of multiple pregnancies that if I did want to terminate, the earlier the better because it would be easier on my astral body and would be much less likely to damage me, same as for a non-astral abortion, really. It was also explained that I could just have Loki or a surrogate carry the pregnancy to term, or that I could use an incubator depending on my species, but the thought of me not being able to personally protect that little light filled me with irrational levels of panic and terror, so transferring them was out for me.
I kept her, I carried her, we moved on. Loki was there the day that I delivered her, which happened to be Samhain, and by gods...the look on his face when she looked at him for the first time. I’m glad I listened to my heart. I’m glad I could help bring that look on his face. Loki really does love each and every one of his children, and I knew then that I’d made the right decision for myself and my situation.
Loki’s an excellent parent. He really, really is, and he adores kids and is good with them. He stayed around a lot to help me that first little bit. I was so weak, and the babe and I needed so much energy. I couldn’t hunt for us in my state, both in my late pregnancy and after delivery, and Loki just...gods, he was amazing. He would bring back fresh meat, mostly rabbits and and fish, and he let me feed off of him directly (by this I mean syphon off energy or drink his blood, sometimes both), even when he was bone tired, because I needed it. I was feeding for two, because I had to sacrifice quantities of my own energy to gestate, then nurse, Ro. And he never complained, not once. We were so tired those days. Thankfully demigods and fae age differently than human babies, and we didn’t have to do that forever. I still have no idea how he and I survived my second pregnancy with our quintuplets when we were so exhausted caring for Ro during the first and in its aftermath. I guess it just goes to show how dedicated Loki is to his kids, and how patient and giving he is.
So three years passed during which we developed feelings and finally acknowledged them, then two years passed of us dating/courting/seeing each other/being intimate...and then I finally got the courage to propose, which is a story for another time (and, IMO, so is the other pregnancy) because I’ve taken up so much space in this post already.
I just want to finish by saying that I love Loki. I do. I really, really do. And I want him to be loved by as many people as possible. I want them to adore him as much as or more than I do. I never, ever want him to feel unloved or uncared for or not adored. He deserves good things, and he deserves peace.
