#Halloween Loki fanfic

[wheredafandomat]

Blood Lust

Written by @wheredafandomat and @simplyholl 🖤

Welcome to Whore-O-Ween everyone!!

Summary: You're sent to live with Father Laufeyson who is known for his work with wayward young ladies. But all is not as it seems.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Blasphemy. Loki going down on you while you're bleeding. Loss of virginity. Masturbation. Voyeurism.

W/C: 3K

Part of the Whore-O-Ween Spooktacular

The glow of the candlelight flickered. You stood to place another log on the fire. You were locked in your room for the third time this week. Since you had come of age, the young men of the village had taken notice of you.

Now you were twenty years old, and your family was desperate to marry you off. But you had gained a reputation among the village. You were to marry the innkeeper’s son, Jonathon. But his family broke the engagement once word got to them.

You had been seen with two men alone. This was all so silly. You had never even been kissed. You were saving everything for your husband, like any devout girl would.

Your father walked in, taking the wood from you, and placing it on the dying flames. “Daughter, you know there has been talk of your sins around the village. I cannot wed you to any of the young men. Even old Mr. Smith wouldn’t accept my offer for your hand.”

Your breakfast threatened to come back up at the mention of him. He was a strange, bald man who lived a few houses down. His wife had died of influenza years ago, and he never remarried.

“Harvey told me about a priest who takes in young girls who find themselves in trouble. He will pray over you and reform you until you are ready to come home. He lives two towns over. His name is Father Laufeyson. I sent him a letter asking him to take you. His reply came this morning, and he agreed. Pack your belongings. We will make the journey when the sun rises tomorrow.”

When you arrive, you notice Father Laufeyson’s house looks more like a castle from your storybooks than the cottages you were used to. That’s probably why it was tucked away far into the woods, away from the other houses.

Two people stood outside the large house waiting for you. One was Father Laufeyson. The first thing you notice is how handsome he is. You blush, God forgive me for thinking inappropriately, especially about a man of the cloth you silently pray.

The other was a tall brunette woman. She appeared to be a few years older than you. She beamed, walking toward you. She pulls you in for a hug, “I’m Esther.” You introduce yourself, returning the hug. She takes your hand, leading you into your new home.

That night at dinner, the three of you talked like old friends. You were starving, you notice Father Laufeyson doesn’t eat much. He just sips his red wine, listening to you and Esther chatter.

The following morning you change into your best church dress, meeting him and Esther downstairs. You and Esther take a seat in the front of the church. You look at the congregation, taking note that it’s mostly women. How unusual you thought.

Where were their husbands, brothers, and fathers? You shrug it off. Church was the only place a lady could go without the company of a man. You carefully watch Father Laufeyson as he begins the service.

There was something off about him, but you couldn’t place it. It could be that you were attracted to him. That had to be it. The priest in your village was old when you were born. You just weren’t used to priests being this young. After church, he took you and Esther on a picnic for lunch. You two ate the delicious sandwiches he prepared, but he refused saying he wasn’t hungry.

You had free reign of the house except for Father Laufeyson’s room. All three of you had rooms on the same floor. Yours and Esther’s were beside each other, making it easy for late night talks. His was down the hall.

It had been four weeks since you first arrived. You liked it better with each passing day. You could take walks along the property. You could read all day, if you liked. He had quite the extensive library.

You wake up in the middle of the night when you hear Esther cry out. You leave your room, candle in hand walking toward the noise. You stop at Father Laufeyson’s room. The door is ajar just enough to peek inside. You see Esther against the wall, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs wrapped around his waist. He thrusts up into her. You gasp, covering your mouth when he looks toward the door.

You know you should leave, but you stay glued to your spot, never taking your innocent eyes off of them. Esther moans when his hand moves between them under her dress. He gathers her hair off her neck, pale face leaning down toward her.

The candlelight in his room shines on his face, putting a spotlight on his long fangs sinking into the side of her neck. He feeds on her slowly as she slumps in his arms. You press your hand harder to your mouth to stifle your cries. Tears streak down your face as you run back to your room.

You had heard about vampires before. Your village and the surrounding ones were once overrun with them. The pale beasts were all destroyed. But here you are living with one who disguised himself as a man of God.

You keep replaying what you saw over and over. He bit Esther, but she seemed to be enjoying it. You feel an unfamiliar ache between your legs from thinking about it. You run your hand up your thigh to your core. You were most likely going to die by the hands of the handsome vampire. You might as well experience a little pleasure before you do. You would beg for God’s forgiveness later. Your fingers swipe through your untouched folds, taking the slick arousal to your clit.

You move clumsily, hesitating at first. Then you imagine Father Laufeyson holding you against that wall, his teeth on your neck. You shake as your very first orgasm hits you. The following morning, it’s just you and the fake priest. “Father, where is Esther? Is she unwell?” You ask him, studying his face for a change in demeanor.

“She’s well. Her family came back for her before daylight. She went to your room to tell you goodbye, but you were sleeping so soundly, she didn’t want to wake you.” You put on your best fake smile. Esther was dead, and the beast before you killed her. You tried to avoid him as much as possible in the following days.

But you had to dine with him, even if he didn’t eat. You still had to attend church with him. Other than that, you stayed hidden in your room. You were terrified of him, but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him. You spent your nights with your hand under your nightgown or humping your pillow thinking of him.

It was shameful, but you couldn’t stop. You felt so guilty after making yourself cum twice in one night, you got down on your knees, praying for forgiveness, begging for it. That night, you dreamt that you drove a stake through his heart, ending this misery. You took it as a sign from God. This is what you were meant to do.

Father Laufeyson took you into town. You waited until he went into the store, and you walked to the woodworker’s shop. You commissioned an oak stake. They looked at you like you had lost your mind. They told you the last of the vampires had been destroyed long ago. But the coins Laufeyson gave you put food on the table for their families.

You had to wait three long weeks before he took you into town again. When you got the chance, you went to retrieve the weapon. That night, you decided it was time. You couldn’t live with him anymore, not after knowing what he is. You had to fulfill your purpose. You knew he was at the church preparing his sermon for the next morning. You ran the whole way there, heart racing.

You stepped inside cautiously, trying to ignore the chill of the air telling you to turn back around, to run away. But you couldn’t. Your feet carried you forward, surprisingly confident, unlike yourself. Confidence, that’s what you needed, what you tried to embody, that was your protection against the pale beast.

You flinched as a jolt of lightning shone through the church, lighting everything in a quick spark of chrome before you were in darkness again, except for a few candles. You knew you had to act as if nothing was wrong, as if you didn’t know. Survival was only guaranteed that way.

“Y/N.” You took a deep breath hearing your name fall from his lips in a honeyed utterance. “Father.” You greeted him, the faux priest, as you stepped towards him. “Come, child.” He gestured to the organ, prompting you to follow him. “Sit.” You fought to keep your breathing steady as you approached him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling as you observed him.

You were told that his kind would perish in a place like this, that they would burn. But here he was making a mockery of God, wearing an idle collar and parading around untouchable. But not after tonight. Many times, you had shared this seat with him, ignoring the cold that his presence brought, ignoring the call to sin when he looked at you, emerald green eyes boring into yours.

Tonight was different, you couldn’t relax. “What ails you?” He questioned, lifting his hand and stroking a key with one of his dexterous fingers. “I believe I may have found my calling.” You answered, taking a deep breath as you raised one of your fingers onto the keys. “Your calling” He repeated almost questioningly. “Other than to serve your god?” My God?” “God.” He corrected. “Yes, I believe he has asked me to serve Him in another way.” You continued, both of you gently playing a familiar tune.

“Pray tell, what is this other way? What is this newfound calling?” “I must protect this Earth.” You stated, using your free hand to clutch the weapon in your pocket. “From what?” He questioned, turning to look at you with a small smirk. “From me?” “What?” You gasped, trying to keep your breaths even. “Do you really think a piece of oak would be enough to stop me?” He snickered.

“I mean honestly” He continued, leaning towards you, his mouth dangerously close to your neck as you froze. “You underestimate me.” He noted coyly, reaching around you, grabbing the cross stake from your other hand. “No!” You cry, still frozen in fear as he threw it across the room. “On the contrary, I do believe you have another calling.” He stated, standing before stepping behind you.

“A more carnal one.” He continued; his voice sharp in your ear as he leaned over you. “I mean you serve a man no more virtuous than yourself” He paused as you gasped. “I’ve read the books.” He cut you off. “You serve a man no more virtuous than yourself, yet you reap no rewards.”

“I will be rewarded with an eternity in His kingdom.” You spat. “How about a night in mine?” He smirked against your ear, causing you to spin around. “You’d never admit it, but you’ve sinned more than me.” “Don’t you dare say that!” “You think I don’t know you touch yourself thinking about me, yearning for me, even after you found out exactly who I am, what I am?”

“S-stop.” You stuttered. “Grinding against your pillow, moaning my name. Oh! It’s music to my ears.” He cheered. “I’m offering you a night of sin, a night with me.” He proclaimed. “I won’t judge you. I welcome your debauchery. I’ll cherish your moans. I’ll reward your praise.” “St-stop it.” You continued to stutter, clenching your thighs together.

“Burn with me, Y/N, just for tonight.” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his lips brushing against yours as you close your eyes. “I’ve never been touched.” You emitted nervously; eyes still closed. “I know, but you want to be. It’s what you have spent so long desiring.” He spoke against your lips, one of his hands ghosting down your body as your breath hitched.

He didn’t have to push your legs apart; they were already gapped from your quick spin around. You inhaled sharply as you felt him cup your sex, eyes opening to find him staring into yours. “Is this where you touch yourself when you think about me?” He smirked, his hand moving up and down, massaging against your clothed heat.

“Rubbing yourself, imagining me, my hand, my body until you reach there, that sweet release.” He almost cooed, his hand more pressured now. You tried to stave away the temptation of bucking your hips into his touch, but it was hard. It felt too good. You wanted more. You needed more. You needed him to do what he did to Esther. “Tell me what you desire, and I’ll do it.” “Take it.” You answered almost breathlessly. “It?”

“My purity, take it.” “That’s my girl.” He purred in your ear again, before his free hand gripped your chin, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue pushed passed yours, exploring your mouth. His other hand was still between your legs, your hips thrusting into his touch.

Now that his lips were properly on yours, you realized how cold they were, how gelid. Your hands reached upwards, cupping his cheeks which were no warmer than his lips. You tried to stay silent, but you couldn’t, not when you felt his hand slipping underneath your skirt, fingers smoothing over the cloth material of your panties.

“Father!” You gasped as two of his fingers pushed your underwear to the side, meeting your clit. “Loki.” He corrected. “Loki” you moaned, eyes closing as he drew languid circles over your clit. “You virgins are so receptive.” He sniggered. “You’re already so wet for me.” His name fell from your lips again as he continued his movements, his fingers growing slick from your arousal. Lost in the pleasure, you almost didn’t realize that his fingers were venturing lower down your center.

Your eyes flew open, feeling him enter you slowly. “L-Loki” You stuttered feeling full. “Do you like that?” He asked, leisurely pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Yesss” You hum in response, drowning in the sensation. You felt overwhelmed, you were wetter than you’ve ever been.

Small moans escaped you as Loki continued thrusting his fingers inside of you. A metallic scent evaded your nose. As if he could smell it too, Loki stopped his movements causing you to open your eyes, only for them to round in surprise at the sight of his fingers. They were practically glistening crimson. You barely had time to react before Loki was bringing them to his lips, licking off the blood.

“What’s happening?” You panicked, despite not being in any pain. “It’s normal.” Loki answered, releasing his index finger with a pop. The remembrance of what he was overcame you as a blanket of guilt shrouded you. You didn’t feel good anymore. Before Loki could continue, you began closing your legs wanting to leave. You wanted to forget about all of this, but instead you yelped, feeling him grab one of your legs and pushing them further apart as he got to his knees. He slid your panties off your legs, discarding them on the floor.

“One can’t prepare a feast and expect others not to dine.” He spoke cryptically before you felt his cold, wet tongue against your core lapping up the blood dripping from you. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as he entered you with his tongue, washing any hesitation away. You couldn’t help but scream in pleasure at the feeling of his nose rubbing your clit as he feasted on you.

“Delicious.” He spoke against you as you shamelessly ground your hips against his face. You were overcome with delectation despite the fact that this was more than just a carnal encounter. “I need you, Loki.” You finally implored, interrupting Loki’s banquet. Glancing up at you, he lifted his head from between your legs, licking his lips clean as he lowered your leg. His hand found yours as he prompted you to join him on the floor.

You did so, wordlessly straddling him like you imagined so many nights alone with your pillow. He felt good underneath you, like it was where he belonged. Your bare sex rubbed against his clothes as you readjusted yourself, Loki looking up into your eyes. “Is this how you want me to take you?” He spoke, breaking the silence. “Yes.” You replied, trying to quell your nervousness. Loki didn’t talk as he unsheathed himself before guiding you above his manhood.

He watched your expression as he thrusted up into you, his hands on your hips pushing you down against him. You couldn’t help your moans as he filled you, burying himself inside you. You move your hips against his, living out your fantasy. You found yourself growing closer to the end, to your release, to his demise. He was obviously moving slower for you, you had watched him move a lot faster for Esther, and for that you’d make sure you were as quick as you could be.

Leaning down against him, your lips almost brushed his again as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the discarded stake. Loki was right, it was oak. Well, most of it. What he didn’t know was that the tip was willow, lethal. “You feel so good, so pure.” Loki groaned from beneath you, gripping your hips tightly as you sat back up.

His eyes were closed, that’s how he didn’t see it, how he didn’t know he was in danger. You continued grinding your hips against his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you neared your climax. Walls tightly gripping Loki’s length, you raise your hand before plunging the stake into his chest.

Loki’s eyes flew open, the betrayal evident on his features as his life slipped away. You felt powerful, immensely so, as you took his life, draining him, milking him. You moaned as your climax shook you. This was it; this was your calling.

Tags 🖤

@lokischambermaid @gruftiela @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @itsybitchylittlewitchy @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @buttercupcookies-blog @lokisgoodgirl @donaweasley @muddyorbsblr @litaloni @lovingchoices14 @mochie85 @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @glitchquake @goblingirlsarah @multifandom-worlds @kats72 @eleniblue @mischief2sarawr @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @fictive-sl0th @marygoddessofmischief @lulubelle814 @evelyn-rathmore @lokiestorch @ladymischief11 @valarieravenhearst1 @cakesandtom @monkey0105 @dj-murasaki @ririsutty73 @cindylynn @violethaze @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

[autumnvine]

What is a Hallloween?

Summary: You were discussing Halloween with your new husband, of course you didn't realise he didn't know what Halloween was, leading to some emotions, calls to your best friend, some thoughts that come to light upsetting everyone. Happy ending of course.

Sitting with Loki was perfect, everything with Loki was perfect, he was perfect. You were so in love with him, just looking at him warmed your heart, feeling his touch made you instantly feel protected like nothing could ever get you, he was yours and you were his, forever. Yn Laufeyson , Mrs Laufeyson forever

"What are you thinking about my love? You have that look upon your face?

"What look? I don't have a look"

"Oh you have a look, beautiful, your eyes gazing deep into the stars, thoughts running wild in that head of yours" Kissing your forhead, as you leaned into his chest.

"I was just thinking about halloween, maybe we could go pumpkin picking and make candy apples and oh we could turn the garden to a graveyard, the loft into an apothecary we could do so much with this house this year. What do you think?" Almost bursting with excitment Loki however was concerned.

"My darling I would realine the planets if it would make you happy, I wonder my dear forgive me for asking, why would you want our garden to become the eternal resting place of so many? And why an apothecary in our upstairs storage did you forget who your married to, we have no need for lavander potions and sage sticks, I am the God of Mischief, a frost giant, I have magic coursing through my veins."

Slowly loosing your simle, awkwardly twirling your hair you didn't expect Loki to react that way, he wasn't mad or upset, he just wasn't as excited as you were, "It's just for one day I'm sorry, I- it doesn't matter it's not important. Um I'm going to go make some coffee do you want some?" Feeling the tears well up almost instantly "Do you want coffee?" asking again a little more quietly

"Y/n did I say something? Is something wrong?"

"No, um coffee?"

"Darling, no coffee just sit down a second, I never ment to upset you or anything I'm sorry this is your home you can turn it into a burrial ground or a pop up potion store in our upstairs, why are you upset?"

Awkwardly sitting beside him fumbling with your words, "It's just one day"

"Darling you cannot burry people for one day, I will not dig them up and move them the following moring. Why would you want that?"

"I don't, please just drop it, it's really not important Loki, I'm tired I'm sorry forget about it please."

Standing up, rubbing your arm leaning over to kiss your husband on the head, "Goodnight" twenty minuites ago you felt cute, pretty, wearing your favourite pyjammas and little fluffy slipper boots, now you just felt ridiculous like you wanted to curl up in the corner and hide away.

Loki left you be, afraid to make you more upset by accident, picking up the kitchen phone and the list of numbers you had written down for him, he called your best friend,

"Wanda, I need your assistance I don't like to do this, and I really hate what happened more, so you might fix the situation?"

"Loki what's wrong is Y/n alright?"

"Fine, she is in bed"

"Is she sick?"

"No, more upset, Why does she want the garden to be a burial ground? Why is my house turning into the popup shop, why are they mad, all i said was that i won't be digging up the bodies for one day, now there in bed?"

"What?" Wanda more confused then ever

"What is a Halloween? She said Can we have a graveyard in the garden for halloween and apples with candy, what is a Hallloween, she wants to get a pumpkin and have a spell shop fo the pumpkin and I asked about it, she got all flustered and left." Fully understanding now Wanda couldn't help but giggle on the other end of the phone line,

"How dare you mock me"

"I'm not Loki Halloween is a magical night that y.n cares very much about, for her it's the best day of the year"

"What about our wedding day" Loki asked almost soul destroyed

"Oi listen it's important to her, you mocked it, it hurt her, she loves it, it's magical, you decorate your house like a graveyard with skeletons or bats, or pumpkins or ghosts and whitches, it's not an actual cemetery you don't really dig a grave for people or dig them back up, a candy apple is just a thing you do together then watch a scary movie later on eating it. It's traditional, and a very celebrated holiday on earth, midguard, it's important to her, and you shut it down, so yeah she probable got awkward and left, she doesn't like asking things of people Loki, you know that, when was the last time she really asked you for anything?.... Exactly she doesn't. She knows that you have power Loki, she know's your a God and she knows that she will never be like you, but Halloween is the one day of the year she feels closest to you."

Loki in shock from learning the knowledge of his wife from her best friend, you never told him any of this,

"How is you seem so enlightened in my wife's life and personal feelings? How is it you know all of this information?"

"She's my best friend, she has been since we were little, you have to understand that women believe it or not Loki but we confide in eachother"

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Loki it's not that big of a deal"

"And yet you know that my wife feels closest to me on a holdiay filled with graveyards."

"That's not what I said is it, it's one of the most powerful days of the year, for her it's magical she believes in it, she believes in the magic. You are powerful Loki as am I and Yn doesn't have the same abilities we do. It gets to her sometimes, just trust me, you should feel flattered."

"Wanda you've been insightful as usual"

"Good luck Loki"

Loki made some coffee for the both of you and conjured up a candy apple, taking to the stairs prepairing everything he was going to say in his head, nothing would come, nothing sounded good enough. It;s not his fault he didn't do anything, he just didn't know how important Halloween was to you. The bedroom door was open a little, politely knocking before pushing it open, to fine, noone. It's dark and empty "Yn?" with no reply he set down the coffees and apples turning on the light switch, still noone "Yn where are you?" calling your name a little louder "I'm sorry, darling where are you?" Looking in other rooms for you, calling your name over and over, each time slightly more panicked then the last. He felt a cool breeze brush over his feet, the forest green curtains gently blowing in from the open patio door, "Yn?" Loki called softer not wanting to startle you, "I'm out here" Quickly flicking his wrist to have two cups of coffee and a blanket for you he came and sat beside you. "I'm sorry"

"It's okay Loki it wasn't your fault, I never ment to argue with you, I never ment to upset you I'm sorry Loki"

"Hey, nothing was your fault, so I spoke with Wanda"

"I was wondering if you would like to toffee some apples with me? and perhaps I teach you a few things"

a smile appreared across your face, teeth on display and all,

"Really, like what?"

"Do you trust me?" Loki asked taking your hand

"Always"

"Close your eyes, think about what you want to eat right now"

You did and appered in your hand was a plate of pumpkin pie

with two forks. "Oh Loki tat's amazing, here try this you will love this, well I hope because I love this, here try." before Loki could ask what it was you put the fork loaded with pie in his mouth, watching him intently scanning his face for his reaction to weather he likeed it or not, seeing as he licked him lips and bit down gently on his bottom lip, "I would say it's successful, you like?"

"I love" Loki picked up the fork feeding you some in return

"Yn my darling you know you are the most important to thing to me in the entire world, galaxy?" you nodded in responce with a chunk of pie in your mouth

"You know that I adore you and everything about you?" again you nodded

"Yn I wanted to ask about something Wanda said, Do you feel closest to me on Halloween?"

His question sounded more loaded, like it was weighing on his mind, "Yeah I guess but it's not a bad thing, when I said that to Wanda first I didn't think she'd tell you, not like that makes it any better, but I just meant that for one night I could be apart of your world. Where magic was everywhere, where the non magic people like me, get to be as amazing as you, I get to fit in in your world, I get to be apart of all your world."

"My love you are a part of my world, you are my world, without you I, well I don't know what I'd do, You don't need magic to be apart of my world. Darling you are my heart and soul. And I love you more then anything."

"I know and sometimes I just let my head get in the way you know, it doesn't matter it's okay"

"No I don't know, you don't tell me these things, you tell Wanda but you don't tell me. I just want to make sure that you know you can talk to me about everything. My darling I'm your husband forever and you are my wife, I tell you everything. I don't expect you to tell me everything and by no means you don't have to, but anytime you want to, you can is all. I'm always here for you. And your head never gets in the way please do not think like that, your head is precious and beautiful and very important to me, all your thoughts are important to me."

"I just wonder sometimes if you regret your decision that's all"

"What decision?" Loki asked having some more pie

"Marrying me"

Spitting the pie accidentally half way across the floor, Loki took your hands, rubbing his over your knuckles, he did not expect that

"Why, why would you say that? Why do you think that? do you regret your decision?"

"Loki of course I don't regret it, it is different for me though, you had a beautiful home, a throne, you were born to be a king, you are the prince of Asgard and Jotenhiem where you accept that or not, baby you are royalty and you have amazing abilities and you, you have a much longer lifed expectancy lets put it that way, it won't be long before I'm old, sore, grey, sick, and you'll still be the same, handsome, thick dark hair, dreamy eyes that anyone could get lost in, you'll still be perfect" looking up from your hands from his hands, noticing a stray tear runnig down his sharp cheekbones, dripping off his chin on to his white shirt, creating a small wet dot, followed by another on the opposite side, and another, and another until the flood gates opened.

"I can't bear the thought of loosing you Yn I won't I can't, I won't let it happen. I can't"

"Loki it's going to happen"

"No! no it won't It can't!" Loki becoming louder and frightened and more upset, scared. Terrified of loosing you.

"You walked away from everythting to be with me, you turned down your leadership, your throne, your golden palace, your kingdom, you gave up everything just to spend a few years with me, I can't help but think what's going to happen to you, after I, what'll happen I don't want you to be alone forever, I don't want you to have to be stuck here I know you hate it here on earth. I don't want you to forget about me Loki, and you will one day. What's going to happen?"

You and Loki crying and cuddling eachother, trying to pull yourself together for him, trying to contain your thoughts that get in the way, he said he wanted to know.

"Yn I don't know what will happen but I promise you I could never forget you, I will never be here without you, I promise."

"You can't promise that"

"I do, I promised you on our wedding day and I'm reminding you of it now, you are always and forever will be the sole owner and gate keeper of my heart, my every thought. Now you were telling me about this Halloween and what we are going to do? You were all excited before and I want your tears banished, your graveyard in the garden, your Skellington dangling off the roof, I believe we can use soome of our magic to have a witch flying above the roof, and this pie i want to bake with you it was delicious until I spat it unpleasantly accidentally across the whole floor, And I want to make a toffee apple and see if I can get my back teeth to stick together with the toffee, I want to make a potion bowl with you filled with different sweet treats and nic nac snacks I believe you call them. And my love correct me if I'm wrong, this Halloween requires the dressing up in someting you wouldn't usuallly wear am I wrong?"

"I love your plan, I love you,I love everything about you I'm sorry I let my thoughts run wild on you, but your right everything I told Wanda I should tell you first, and I didn't want there to be anything beetween us, ever, so that's what I was thinking about and telling Wanda about, she told me the same as you, that I couldn't be replaced and to cherish the time we have together instead of wondering what will happen when it's gone. And you know what, right now, this is good, me and you together.

So you've given Halloween some thought, now for the most important question o the night,

What cotume shall you be ripping off me on halloween night?"

"Oh my love, you don't need a costume" lifting you up off the chair kissing you in his arms, "What your wearing now works just fine."

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I am new to writing any advice let me know 😀

[anonymousewrites]

Portal to My Heart Halloween Special 2023

Loki x Reader

            “Halloween?” asked Loki, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the various spooky-theme decorations around him.

            “Yeah, it’s a human holiday,” said (Y/N). She grinned. “Oh, I mean ‘Midgardian.’ ”

            Loki rolled his eyes. “I can understand perfectly well what you’re saying without the sarcasm.”

            “Are you sure? I think it’s the only language you speak,” remarked (Y/N) impishly. “I mean, you always consider yourself so witty.”

            “If you’re quite done teasing me—”

            “Never.”

            “—you could accurately explain this holiday,” said Loki. He rolled his eyes at her, but he had a fond smile on his lips. “I take it the humans created it from All Hallow’s Eve?”

            “And I thought you told Thor you weren’t a witch,” said (Y/N), patting Loki on the shoulder. (He was, of course, it all black while on Earth). “But yeah, you’re right. Now it’s less about the pagan roots and is more about having spooky fun, dressing up in costumes, and eating candy.”

            “ ‘Spooky fun?’ ” repeated Loki.

            “Scary movies, haunted houses, that sort of thing,” said (Y/N).

            “Why would you go looking to be scared?” said Loki.

            “Why do you change into a snake and try to stab Thor?” retorted (Y/N).

            “Touche,” said Loki.

            “There are also parties,” said (Y/N). “I think Jane is hosting one with Thor. We’re invited.”

            “No.”

            “You don’t get to say no,” said (Y/N) sharply.

            “I refuse to go to a celebration hosted by that oaf. It will be full of just booze and ridiculous bragging,” said Loki.

            (Y/N) snorted. “Loki, I like to drink, and you like to show off. That sounds like the perfect party for us.”

            “I will refuse to go,” said Loki.

            “I already said we were going,” said (Y/N). “And if you back out now, everyone will know you’re cowering at home and refusing to come out.”

            Loki groaned. (Y/N) knew how to trap him in his own pride. She knew him far too well. “You’re far too cunning, darling.”

            “I know,” said (Y/N) with a pleased smile. She pecked him on the cheek, and he sighed as he resigned himself to his fate.

l

            “Darling, are you nearly ready?” said Loki, standing beside the door of their apartment. He wore his traditional outfit with green and gold robes and golden horns. He didn’t see the point in dressing up anymore since he was “scary” (intimidating) enough in this.

            “Don’t rush beauty,” said (Y/N).

            “You’re always ravishing, darling,” said Loki. He smirked. “I’m sure there’s no need for you to worry.”

            “Flattery won’t make me go any faster,” responded (Y/N).

            “It was worth a try,” said Loki. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was lying. He always found (Y/N) the most attractive person in the room. She was his love, superior to all others.

            “Trust me, this will be worth the wait,” said (Y/N).

            “Are you truly trying to make yourself that frightening, my dear?” remarked Loki, amused. “I believe that would take quite a bit of work as you are just too beautiful for fear.”

            “Haven’t you heard of vampires?” said (Y/N).

            “I find them more attractive than frightening. They can’t kill me, after all,” said Loki.

            “Of course you find them attractive,” said (Y/N). She was greatly amused, and it tracked for Loki. “But, lucky for you, I didn’t go for a scary costume.”

            Loki perked up. “Oh?”

            “No, I went for something a little different.” (Y/N) stepped out of the bedroom, finally dressed and ready. She smirked as Loki started in reaction to her costume.

            She wore a long green dress with a slit up the side to reveal her leg. Black heels with gold accents peeked out from the slit of her dress. Around the sweetheart neckline and corset top, gold body jewelry hung over her exposed shoulders and neck like twining snakes. Gold ear cuffs drew attention to her face and golden eyeshadow dusted overtop a sharp black eyeliner. The most important detail of her outfit, however, were the circlet around her head supporting golden horns. (Y/N) twirled and posed, showing off the golden jewelry draped on her hands, glittering like magic.

            “How do I look?” she said, smirking.

            “You’re…me,” said Loki, staring at her. She was beautiful, and dressed in his colors and horns? She was ravishing.

            “I am,” said (Y/N). She smirked. “But I think I might look better than you, my dear Loki.”

            “I don’t dare argue with such a goddess,” said Loki, reaching out and pulling her to him.

            “What am I the god of?” said (Y/N).

            “I’d say beauty, but I hardly think such a commonplace word describes you,” said Loki, kissing her.

            (Y/N) kissed him back and smiled. “Flattering me?”

            “I’d prefer to be worshipping you,” said Loki.

            “Oh?” (Y/N) smirked challengingly.

            “A goddess like you deserves the entire world to worship you,” said Loki. “So I’ll have to work especially hard since it’s just me.”

            “Go ahead, then. Worship me, Loki,” purred (Y/N), grinning.

            Loki grinned almost wolfishly. “I’m afraid we’re going to be a bit late to the party tonight,” he murmured as he kissed (Y/N) and trailed down to her neck. His hands ran down her sides and tugged her closer.

            “I’m sure you’ll make it worth it,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Loki sank to his knees. “But of course. My divine goddess deserves to be worshipped, after all.”

            (Y/N) smirked down at him. “Then, mewling quim, get to it. Your god commands it.”

[scytherport]

Abóbora, Lu Bu? - Thor, Lu Bu e Loki (ROR) história: link | inspiração: @mixyl

[divine-knight-hand]

And so, the moon rises on a new, chilling occasion

Amidst a season of falling leaves and rising screams, a certain knight faces herself with the honor of celebrating her favorite holiday. Using the materials and imagination at her disposal, she's brought together a spooky triple feature starring some of her favorite characters from different medias.

Her intentions began pure, but as she breathed life into each inspiring vision, the last of her works began to toe the line between horror and lust. Now you must decide. Will you choose to follow the allure of the darkness, madness, and sex promised by the knight's creations three?

Key: ☁️ - Fluff ❤️- Smut

**Be warned that this event is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for minors!!! Only interact with this if you're 18+ and able to handle the warnings listed with each title below!!!**

Dividers by @silkholland

The Fluffy First: ☁️ Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party (Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader) || AO3 Link

The final installment of Our Wonderful Witch in Red (Rewritten). Wanda goes off alone at a Halloween party, and not a single Avenger knows where she is... Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way! Word Count: 2,874

The Sinister Second: ❤️ The Ball of the Red Death (Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader) || AO3 Link

A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong? Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot Word Count: 6,905

The Final Chase: ❤️ Night of The Maneater (Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader)

Part 1: The Chase || AO3 Link

Part 2: The Catch || AO3 Link

Since the destruction of Fazbear's Fright, Michael could finally celebrate Halloween in peace, but with a new serial killer on the loose known only by the name "The Maneater", how long will his night stay that way? Content Warnings: Stalking, mentions of death and killing, descriptions of fear and creepy scenarios, death threats, sexual themes, light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise Part 1 Word Count: 4,352 Part 2 Word Count: 2,378

[cozy-the-overlord]

The Lighthouse

Summary: Stabbed by Kurse on Svartalfheim and fading away in his brother's arms, Loki expects to wake in Valhalla, having finally died in battle like a true Asgardian warrior. Instead, he finds himself drowning in a sea of inky black, the only light coming from the stoic tower guarding over the darkness. The woman who tends the lighthouse is as mysterious as she is caring, and Loki can't shake the feeling that she knows far more than she's telling …

Word Count: 10,141

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: Summer before last I watched a video about a creepy old lighthouse and thought it make a fantastic location for a scary story. Two weeks ago I was going through my notes trying to find an idea for a spur-of-the-moment Halloween fic and I came across it again. This story ended up being quite different than I originally envisioned -- I'm not even sure you can even call it a Halloween fic anymore lol -- but I'm still very happy with it. Also huge thank you and shout out to @lokislittlesigyn, who both researched and beta read for me as well as just cheered me on throughout the whole process. I don't think this story would have come together as well as it did if not for her <3<3<3

Thanks for reading, and happy Halloween!!

Warnings: Injury, grief, death/afterlife

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“I’ll tell Father what you did here today.”

“I didn’t do it for him.”

There’s a light haloing his brother’s face, growing brighter and brighter until his silhouette has been washed away with the barren landscape as his own vision turns white behind his eyelids and even still it grows brighter, so bright it sears his retinas, so bright it hurts–

Loki gasps for air without realizing, breaking through the bitter cold of the water—water? There’s no chance to process it—another wave crashes over his head and thrusts him beneath the inky black of the sea. He thrashes against the current, fighting his way back to the surface even as the piercing pain in his chest explodes throughout his torso. It takes everything to keep himself from going under again. The light has moved—no longer on his face, it cuts through the starless void of the night sky, a glowing beacon in the dark, moving slowly across the horizon. Loki can’t breathe.

This isn’t Valhalla.

That much is clear, and the realization numbs him more than the cold. He died in battle. He died fighting for Asgard, for Thor, for her. She was supposed to be there to greet him. His eyes burn with salt and tears. It’s supposed to be over—he fought and died, why can’t he rest? Why is it not over? Norns, he just wants it to be over!

If not Valhalla, where am I?

He can’t think of any story that told of an ocean waiting beyond death, but he doesn’t have much time to try to remember either because yet another wave is cresting, and he barely has a moment to gulp a mouthful of air before he goes under yet again.

He must get out of this water. He can’t last like this. The light swoops across the ocean once more in the same steady movement. A lighthouse, he realizes suddenly, and curses himself for not making the connection sooner. A lighthouse means land, and people to tend to it. A lighthouse means safety. In this moment, nothing else could matter more.

Loki gasps a great heaving breath and begins kicking towards the light.

It’s a slow process. He has no way of knowing how long he’s been there, thrashing along the surface as best he can with what feeling he has left in his extremities. Between the waves slapping him back and the current tugging him every which way, it’s hard to believe he’s made any progress. The wound in his chest burns with every movement of his arms, a searing pain that zips up his spine and streaks all along his torso. His mouth is dry with blood. And all the while, the light flashes before him, soft and mocking as ever. Perhaps the lighthouse isn’t real, he wonders hazily; perhaps it exists only in his mind, and he’s condemned to suffer these waves until Ragnarok comes as penance for his failings in life.

He’s barely conscious enough to register when his feet scrape against sharp rock, his fingers almost too numb to grasp the stony shoreline. He collapses in a heap where the waves deposit him on the coast, his labored breathing drowning out all other sound. He knows he should crawl up, at least get his lower half out of the water, but his body is leaden and heavy, and Loki can feel himself drifting away.

I’m dead. Above him, the light flickers around a shape, a dark silhouette, a woman’s form. As weary as he is, his heart leaps in relief.

“Mother?” he calls out weakly.

There’s no response. The light is fading around him, and he’s fading with it. I’m dead, he thinks again. What an odd way to be dead…

…

He wakes gradually—so gradually that he doesn’t quite realize what it is he’s doing even as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. There’s the plush of mattress beneath his back, cotton blanket bunched around his waist. He’s in bed. For a brief moment it’s his bed, the one in his palace bedroom just down the hall from Thor’s, and he’s a child stirring awake after having fallen asleep atop the book he stayed up too late reading. But Loki blinks again, and the memory fades back into its place in a past life.

The room in which he wakes is no palatial chamber. It’s small, and quite barren—aside from the bed (which is more of a cot, now that he’s looking at it properly) there’s nothing more than a modest nightstand and a faded rug for furnishing. The stone walls are gray and dusted with age. A lantern flickers on its hook next to the door. The window to his right is draped with thick black fabric, with not the slightest hint of daylight peaking through.

Loki shivers, and it’s then that he realizes his chest is bare. Both his armor and his tunic have vanished, and his torso is wrapped in white cloth bandages. He presses his hand to the spot where the dark elf’s sword pierced his body. The pain is still there, but it’s muted ache rather than a biting hurt—the ache of a wound attended to briefly by a healer’s magic. Loki’s head is spinning. He presses harder and winces.

Is he dead? Alive? Surely a deceased soul would no longer require a healer’s touch, but in the same vein, if he had somehow been rescued from Svartalfheim, would he not have awoken in his Asgardian cell rather than … whatever this place is? And the ocean—had he dreamt that? Or had someone pulled him out? Who healed him? Where is he?

Loki pulls himself up with a groan. His body feels stiff, out of use, and he wonders how long he’s been laying here. Beneath the blanket, he finds that his boots have also been removed, although thankfully his mysterious guardian deigned to leave him his trousers. He sighs, bracing himself against the chill in the air, and staggers towards the door.

It leads him out into a cramped hallway, the right side ending in a wall and another covered window, the left twisting around what appeared to be the base of a staircase and disappearing into another room. Loki’s chest aches with a new vigor, and he leans against the doorframe to catch his breath, glaring daggers at his bandaged torso. It’s ridiculous that such a short distance would demand so much effort, he barely walked his own length—

But he’s distracted from his frustration by the sound that cuts through the silence—a lilting, feminine hum from somewhere down the corridor. Loki freezes.

He knows that melody. It’s a lullaby—a soft, gentle little tune that Frigga would sing to them as children to soothe them at night. The thought brings a lump to his throat. How long has it been since those days? All at once he remembers the woman on the beach.

Could it be?

Loki is too afraid to let himself hope. Instead, he rushes down the hallway with a new urgency.

The space he finds himself in is not much bigger than the room in which he awoke. It’s a small kitchen area, lined with cupboards and shelves and a meager counter space. A simple stovetop rests in the corner, a looming grandfather clock in the other. A table and a pair of chairs sit across from the large window on the left wall, a window covered, just as the ones that came before. On the right, a narrow staircase ascends into darkness.

The source of the humming stands at the stovetop, tending to a whistling kettle. Loki’s heart falls—it’s not his mother. No, this woman is much younger—a slender, almost ghostlike form in her creamy white dress, frayed hem brushing against the floor as she sways gently to the sound of her own voice. Her dark hair rests in a long braid down the length of her back. She wraps the kettle’s handle in a stained cloth as she moves it from the stove with the practiced motion of someone who’s done so a hundred times before. It’s then that she turns to see him standing at the room’s entrance and freezes with a gasp.

“Oh!” Her brown eyes wide, she stares at him as if he’s risen from the dead. Perhaps he has. Her expression turns hard. “What are you doing up?”

Loki stiffens. “Who are you?”

The woman ignores the question, dropping the kettle on the counter with a clang as she rushes towards him. Loki tenses, half expecting a struggle, but before she even reaches his side he finds himself whisked into one of the chairs, landing with a thud against the wood, head spinning.

He grunts. Seidr. It shouldn’t be a surprise—after all, he had known that his injuries must have been treated with magic—but he finds himself caught off guard just the same.

Loki moves to stand up, but the woman is in front of him now, gently but firmly pressing him back into the seat. Her hands are clammy on his bare shoulders.

“You’re not supposed to be up yet,” she frets. “You’ll hurt yourself—” She tips his chin up to peer at his eyes before pressing two fingers to his pulse. Loki flinches away instinctively. Her skin is cold, but it’s not just that—there’s something about her, the ease, the familiarity with which she touches him, that he finds disquieting.

“Who are you?” he demands again. “Why did you rescue me?”

She glances back at him, as if the question caught her off guard. “I-I’m Sigyn. I tend to the lighthouse.” She bites her lip. “You washed up on the beach.”

The lighthouse. Loki remembers the beam of light he had so frantically kicked through the waves towards. So that had been real after all. This ramshackle building must be it. Still, it explains very little of his predicament.

His eyes narrow at his rescuer. “You’re Asgardian.” Sigyn looks as though she is going to argue, but there’s no denying her accent. He continues without giving her the chance. “What is this place? It’s not Asgard.”

She hesitates. “It’s … it’s a kind of in-between.” Her gaze drifts to the covered window. “Not many find their way here.”

“In between what?” Loki asks. “The realms?”

Sigyn huffs a dry laugh, straightening to her feet. “The realms don’t exist here.” She returns to the kettle on the counter to pour a cup of steaming tea, a cup she then presses into his hands. “You should drink this. It will help with your healing.”

Loki eyes the tea suspiciously. The color is normal enough, but it has a medicinal stench about it that makes his eyes water. He has no intention of drinking it.

Instead, he glares back at her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She sighs, collapsing into the chair across from him. “This is a place in between life and death. Somewhere neither living nor dead.”

Loki frowns. “That’s impossible. There’s no such place.”

Sigyn laughs again, but the sound has a far more bitter edge than before. ���I thought so too,” she says. “Then I woke up here. It’s not so bad, though. A bit lonely, but …” Her voice goes quiet. After a moment she smiles, but it seems more of a pained act than anything else. “It could be worse.”

His frown deepens. None of this makes any sense. “But … then … if that’s the case, how did I come to be here?” he asks. “Why am I not simply dead?” He strains to remember his last moments on Svartalfheim, strains to recall anything out of the ordinary that could have happened to cast him here, but there’s nothing. He fell to an Elven sword in battle. There’s no reason why he should be anything but dead.

Sigyn only shrugs. “I don’t know. I just found you.” She’s not looking at him, picking at a splinter on the side of the table. Loki’s gaze darkens, but he doesn’t show it in his voice.

“How did you come to be here, then?” he asks.

His hostess doesn’t answer. Instead, she shakes her head, closing her eyes and motioning towards the tea. “Please drink it.” Her voice is thick. “I promise it will help.”

Loki raises his eyebrows. “And I’m to trust the promise of a strange woman who claims to be neither living nor dead and won’t give a straight answer?”

Sigyn looks back at him, eyes wide. “I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to.” There’s a desperate tinge to her voice as she leans forward. “Death doesn’t exist here.”

“If that’s the case, why bother healing me?”

“I …” She stops, and Loki is stunned to realize there’s tears pooling in her eyes.

“I don’t like to see you in pain,” she whispers at last.

There’s a heaviness in the air that sends a shiver down his back. Loki opens his mouth to question further—who are you really?—but he’s cut off by the sudden ringing of the grandfather clock, a sinister, resonant tolling that seems to echo in his chest. Sigyn trembles, closing her eyes with a shaky inhale. A stray teardrop drips down her cheek. After a moment, she lets out a breath.

“Excuse me, I must tend to the light.” She stands and turns to start up the stairs. “Please stay here. This place—it’s quite a labyrinth, and you’re still injured. I’ll be back soon.”

He watches her disappear up into the darkness, the creaking of her steps echoing throughout the building for several minutes after she vanishes. Loki sets the tea down on the table. This place—it’s quite a labyrinth, and you’re still injured. Was it a threat? Maybe, maybe not, but Loki takes it as a challenge.

The first thing he examines are the many cabinets and drawers lining the walls of the kitchen. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find—evidence of spellwork, perhaps? Weapons?— but the contents turn out to be fairly ordinary. Really, there isn’t much at all. He’s surprised to find most of the cabinets are bare. It seems she’s prepared to serve a party of two—he finds two plates, two forks, two butter knives, two spoons, the matching teacup to the one he left on the table. Loki frowns. Sigyn had given the impression that she lived alone prior to his arrival. Had she expected him, he wonders?

The grandfather clock reveals little as well. It appears to be of Midgard, and it’s easily the most ornate item he has yet to see in the lighthouse—an intricately carved overlay of mahogany rests above the glimmering gold pendulum encased in glass. The pendulum swings with a soft tick, just as any normal clock would, but Loki is surprised to realize that the clock’s face is completely barren. There’s no numbers, no hands, no way to tell the time—just his own face reflected back at him in the pale slab of metal.

Odd.

Loki supposes that in a world beyond the bounds of life and death, the time would be irrelevant, but the clock’s rings had clearly signaled something for his strange rescuer. Perhaps it served as more of a timer? Regardless, it’s confusing.

He moves to the window, peering beneath the heavy black curtain. It doesn’t make much of a difference. The world outside is just as dark, the whole place smothered in the inky black of night. Even the sky is starless.

The only reprieve is the glowing beam of light from somewhere in the tower above him, slowly passing across the horizon with a steadfast resolve. Only through its reflection can Loki make out the choppy waves in the ocean below. He shivers despite himself and moves away from the window.

There’s not much else in the kitchen, so he goes back down the corridor through which he first came, returning to the little bedroom he awoke in to see if there was anything there he missed. There isn’t—the tiny room is just as barren as he remembers it. The ache in his chest is beginning to grow once more, and Loki sits down on the bed to rest a moment as he catches his breath and decides what to do next. He shivers again. Goodness, these old stone walls are so drafty, and here he is in nothing but his trousers. He had forgotten to ask Sigyn what she had done with his clothes. They certainly weren’t down here.

Come to think of it, there were several things that were missing from this level. There was no washroom anywhere to be found, and unless she had tucked him into her own bed to sleep off his injuries (a thought he finds too unsettling to accept as reality), she too must have a bedroom somewhere else in this tower. His thoughts return to the staircase—he had assumed it only went up to the light at the top of the spire, but perhaps it also led to a second level before that. It was a thought worth exploring. With a groan (his body seems reluctant to rise from the mattress), Loki pulls himself to his feet and hobbles back to the kitchen.

The spiraling staircase is steeper than he would have preferred, but Loki forces himself to ignore it. If he (seemingly) survived a sword to the chest, he can manage a few steps. By the time he comes to the second level he’s panting and out of breath, leaning against the wall for support, but he’s pleased to find that he was in fact correct in his assertion.

There’s a long hallway stretching before him, lit only by a flickering lantern dangling on the wall at its end. He can make out the outline of closed doors resting on either side. This is what he had intended to explore, but there’s another, far brighter light flickering above him, and Loki glances back up the spiraling staircase. Was it just his imagination, or did he hear a voice? His brow furrows. That hadn’t been Sigyn speaking—no, that had been a masculine sound. He thinks back to the pair of dishes in the cupboard, the pair of chairs resting on either side of the table.

There’s someone else here.

He can’t hear the voice anymore. Had he even heard it at all? Loki starts up the staircase again—perhaps if he gets closer, he’ll be able to better make out what is happening in this tower. The pain in his chest is almost masked by the rapid pounding of his heart.

To his horror, once he passes the second level, the spiral widens to be the full circumference of the tower. So many stairs. Loki peers up at the lantern room above him—the bright light makes it difficult to tell how high it is, but the staircase stretches nearly beyond his vision. He can make out the shadow of a person moving about the balcony, but if it’s Sigyn’s or another’s, he can’t tell. Loki gulps a breath and continues on.

Just a little farther, he tells himself, just so you can see better.

His head aches—it’s the flickering of the light, it’s straining his eyes and making his vision all spotty. He tries to ignore it, but then his chest sears in pain, so potent that for a moment everything goes white. With a soft cry, Loki leans against the stone wall. His hands are trembling.

It’s alright. It’s alright. He presses his back against the wall, trying to keep his legs from buckling under his weight. It’s alright. He just needs a moment to rest. His legs give out anyway, and he slides to the floor with a hard thump. The stairs are spinning. The whole tower is spinning. His chest is beyond just pain now, it burns, stinging with every heaving inhale he gasps.He gulps, but he can’t seem to find a breath.

“Loki?” The sound is one of shock and terror, and for a moment it pulls him free of his dizziness. Sigyn is standing a few steps above him; even silhouetted by the glow of the lighthouse, the look of horror on her face is clear as day. He’s barely processed the realization that she said his name before she does it again.

“Loki– oh Norns—” She rushes down the stairs to kneel in front of him, hands fluttering to his chest. He follows her frightened eyes and realizes dimly that his bandages have soaked through with blood. “Loki, I told you to stay—”

Loki tries to respond, but his tongue doesn’t seem to be working, and the words turn to mush in his mouth. Sigyn doesn’t seem to be looking for a reply anyways. She presses a hand to where his shoulder meets his neck, and for once the coolness of her skin feels pleasant against his—when did this tower become so unbearably hot? She’s murmuring something, words he can’t quite hear, but the pain in his chest is slowly melting to a dull ache, the fuzziness in his vision fading away. When she looks up at him again, he’s struck by how her brown eyes sparkle in the eerie light.

“Can you walk if you hold me?” she asks, and he can only nod, gripping her shoulder as she guides him with an arm around his torso back down the staircase. It’s slow work, but she’s gentle and steady, her earlier admonishments replaced with soft words of encouragement as he stumbles along.

He’s expecting her to take him back to his original room, but instead Sigyn leads him to the unexplored second level, and he’s grateful to not have to walk as far. The door on the right opens to a bedroom almost as threadbare as the first, although Loki does catch a glimpse of his tunic hanging on a clothesline to the side along with other various articles of laundry. He huffs a laugh to himself as she lays him down on the bed. At least that’s one mystery solved.

Sigyn wastes no time getting to work on his wound, cutting away the soiled bandages with a surgical precision and dabbing the blood with a damp rag. Loki watches in silence as she begins to redress the injury. He’s skilled enough in emergency care—after all, knowing such can mean life or death on the battlefield— but these are the movements of someone who’s been trained with far more proficiency.

She’s a healer.

Loki had already suspected as much, but this seems to be confirmation. However, that doesn’t explain everything.

“You know my name,” he says at last.

Sigyn jerks her head up. “What?”

“You called me Loki. I never told you my name.” He studies her with an exhausted sort of suspicion. She confuses him. There’s clearly much that she’s not divulging, but she seems so sincere in her actions. “Who are you, really?”

She inhales, her gaze planted firmly on his bandages. “I told you already. I’m Sigyn.”

Loki huffs. This woman is a terrible liar. “You also told me that you didn’t know me, and yet here we are.”

She bites her lip. “I never said that …”

“So you do know me?”

“It’s …” The bed creaks as she shifts her weight against it. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How? It’s a yes or no question.” Loki jerks himself up into a sitting position with a grunt. She lets out a soft cry, but when she moves to push him back down he grabs her wrists and holds them still. He’s had enough of this.

“I don’t know you,” he growls. “Before today, I have never once seen your face. And yet you know me by name. Who are you?”

She’s squirming, still avoiding his gaze. “You’re going to hurt yourself again—”

“Tell me what’s going on here!”

A tense beat of silence passes, but then she sighs, her arms going limp. When she tries to pull away, Loki doesn’t stop her. There’s a shift in the air that tells him he’s won.

Sigyn walks over to the window, runs her hand down the dark fabric of the curtain as if in a trance. She stands there for several moments, immobile and silent. He’s wondering if she’s going to say anything at all when she turns back towards him, an anxious look on her face. “Do you … are you familiar with the concept of … alternate lives?

“The concept of – what?” Loki’s thoughts stutter – he’s not sure what he had been preparing for her to say, but that’s definitely not it.

“I mean – goodness, I’ve never explained this out loud before.” She lets out a nervous laugh and comes back to sit beside him on the bed. “I mean … you’re you,” she says, gesturing towards him, “as you are here today, because you made a series of specific choices, and the people in your life made a series of specific choices, and all the generations of people who came before you made a series of specific choices, and that all lead to you, with your specific set of experiences and feelings and beliefs. Yes?”

She’s looking directly at him, her gaze as intense as it is apprehensive, and Loki swallows. He almost wishes she would go back to being afraid to make eye contact. But he nods.

She studies him a moment, as if deciding whether to believe him. “But if any one of those choices were different,” she says finally, “If you did something different, or your parents did something different, or a person in the distant past you don’t even realize you’re connected to did something different—if anything changed—your life would look different to how it is now. Perhaps it would be a small change, or perhaps it would be such a drastic alteration that it doesn’t look remotely the same. Are you still following me?”

“I believe so …” Loki says, although his voice sounds less certain. He pauses for a moment. “It sounds like Skuld’s Net.”

He’s not sure if it’s a fair connection to make— the matrix-esque symbol is meant to represent the web of fate’s possibilities past, present, and future, but he is very aware that he’s grasping for something familiar to cling on to in this sea of strangeness.

But Sigyn’s eyes light up. “Yes, that’s a good way of thinking about it!” she exclaims. “So now, imagine if every different choice, every variation, every individual thread, exists in its own separate reality.” She interlocks her fingers together, then slowly pulls her hands apart to demonstrate.

Loki’s frowns. “But if that were true – if every infinitesimal difference created a different universe—” Norns, his head is spinning “—that would be impossible to quantify. There would be infinite possibilities.”

She gives a wane smile. “Precisely.”

He’s lost in thought for a while, grappling with her words. A separate reality for every individual thread. It’s too fantastic, too absolutely ridiculous, to be believed. And yet …

“And you mean to tell me that you knew me in an alternate universe?” he asks finally. “That’s what you’re trying to get at?”

“Oh!” Sigyn is clearly caught off guard by the question. She swallows, glancing up at the ceiling. It seems her eyes are misting over again. “A … a version of you, yes.”

Loki is quiet. Does he believe her? Can he believe her? He’s not sure himself.

“How?” His voice feels thick.

“What?”

“How did you know me? What was I to you?”

“You—” She’s definitely fighting tears now, furiously trying to blink them away. Her words come out strained. “My husband. You were my husband.”

Loki feels as though he’s been doused in cold water.

“What?” He can barely dislodge the sound from his throat.

Sigyn gives a jittery nod. “Yes. I, uh –” She reaches under her collar to pull out an oval locket on a gold chain—it’s an Asgardian style, a trinket he remembers as being a popular gift between courting lovers after their first solstice together. Sigyn unlatches the mechanism to open it. It projects a holographic image in her hand, soft and warm in the dismal shadows of the candlelit room. Loki’s heart stops.

It’s him, unmistakably him, gentle curls resting against his shoulders as he beams down at the woman he’s cradling against his chest—Sigyn, he realizes dimly, although it takes a moment to recognize her smiling visage, lively and joyful in a way that seems lost to the haggard woman who sits across from him. Loki stares, unable to take his eyes off of it. It’s me. His chest feels empty. His hologram’s face is crinkled with a jubilance that Loki’s not sure he’s ever experienced in his life. Sigyn watches the projection in silence for a moment before clicking the locket closed once more. She looks over at him, waiting for him to speak. His mouth has gone quite dry.

Loki doesn’t know what to say. He can’t meet her gaze. He swallows. “How did we meet?” he croaks at last. “Or … you and him, how did you meet?”

She lets out a soft little breath—surprise, perhaps? Or was she upset? “I was a novice, in the healing ward. You – him – he was always getting into trouble, always needing something patched up … we just got to talking a lot.” Her voice is drifting away, into something lighter, dreamier, and she lets out a small giggle. “There was this one time, on Alfheim, you took an arrow to the shoulder—it had been dipped in something, so healing spells didn’t work properly, and we had to give you a sedative for the pain, and you completely out of it, just saying the most ridiculous things—”

“Hold on—” Loki reaches out without knowing what he’s reaching for. Alfheim … shoulder … poisoned arrow … Words and images click together in his mind, leaving behind only confusion. Is this what it’s like to go insane? “I remember that – happening to me, I mean.” He gulps a breath. “Thor had gotten into a row with an Elven militia … you weren’t there, though. Eir handled it …”

Sigyn hums—it’s a soft noise, with only just a hint of sadness. “That makes sense. I … I don’t think I exist in your universe.”

He furrows his brow. “How’s that?”

“I don’t know. The circumstances necessary for my birth just didn’t happen.” She shrugs. Her smile seems tired. “Infinite possibilities, remember.”

Infinite possibilities … He’s struck by a sudden thought. “Is my mother alive in your universe?”

“Frigga?” Sigyn sounds surprised. “Yes, of course – or at least she was when I was there.” She lets out an awkward laugh. “I’ve not exactly kept up with current events since landing here.”

Loki stares into space. He feels rather like he’s falling again. There’s a world where she’s alive. Where I’m happily married. Where everything is different. What is reality anymore? Does any of it matter? Is any of this real?

Sigyn reaches forward, resting a cautious hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry – I know this is a lot to take in, all at once. I really didn’t want to just drop it on you—”

“How do you know all this?” he interrupts. “With the different universes, and all the rest? Is this common knowledge in your world?”

“Oh …”  she stutters, glancing away again. “Well … no, not exactly. I … I sort of stumbled into that knowledge on my own.”

His suspicions are roused again instantly. “What does that mean?”

“I was …” Sigyn gulps. “I was studying. I was looking for something else, a different kind of magic, and I … I inadvertently discovered all this.” She motions distractedly to the air, and it reminds Loki of their surroundings.

“Is that how you ended up here?” he asks. “Because of your studies?”

“Essentially …” her smile seems anxious, uncomfortable. “I … I disrupted things.”

“What things?”

Sigyn stands abruptly. “It’s … it’s probably better if we don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Loki stands too, perhaps a bit too fast given the ache in his temples, but he ignores it in favor of maintaining his questioning glare. “Don’t I deserve to know? As your husband?”

She flinches, and he can’t help but feel a bit guilty—he didn’t mean to sound so mocking. But he pushes the thought from his mind. Remember the voice in the lighthouse tower. There are things she’s not telling you.

“What if you get dressed first?” she asks finally. “Get dressed and eat something? Then we can talk more.”

It’s tempting to refuse, to insist that he will not be moved until every secret has been revealed to him, but her words make it difficult to ignore the chill running down his spine.

“Very well,” he relents.

…

Loki never would have expected dinner in a land between life and death to be so delicious.

“What did you call this again?” he asks as he scrapes the last bits of tartly sweet scarlet sauce from the plate. When they had sat down to eat, he had insisted that Sigyn eat a bit from both plates first, to alleviate his instinct to expect poisoning (she had done so without arguing, a slight amusement on her lips, and he found himself wondering if his interdimensional counterpart was similarly prone to suspicion), but now he was almost sorry that he had given up even the smallest portion.

“Kompe with lingonberry compote.” Sigyn grins at him from across the table—it’s the first time he’s seen her truly smile, and he has to admit, there’s something endearing to the sight. “Have you not had it before?”

“I don’t think so.” He licks his lips, chasing a final taste of compote. “I feel I’d remember if I had.”

“In my universe, it was your favorite.” She’s still smiling, but it’s fading into something dreamier, more reflective. “I actually learned to make it because you liked it so much. I surprised you with it once.”

Loki sits back in his seat, gaze drifting to the covered window. It’s strange—how she knows him without actually knowing him, how she has all this history with him, and yet simultaneously not with him. It’s a bit like talking to an omniscient being. He wonders what his interdimensional counterpart is doing right now.

“So we’re very similar, I presume?” he says. “Him and I?”

Sigyn is quiet as she clears the table of dishes. “Yes. It’s … it’s a bit uncanny, to be honest.” She huffs a fond laugh to herself. “He was about as terrible at following my medical advice as you are—never wanted to stay still.” Smirking, she adds, “I threatened to tie him to the bed once.”

“Oh.” How am I supposed to respond to that? “… did you?”

She seems to realize all at once what it was she just said, and her cheeks flush crimson red. “Oh goodness, no, not – no, definitely not.”

He chuckles at her awkwardness, but this train of thought leads another sudden station, and he goes quiet for a moment. “Did … did you and him, did you have children?”

Goodness, what a strange thought. Somehow Loki has never been able to picture himself as a father—even when he was younger, before he knew the truth of his existence, when he thought he would have to produce heirs like any normal prince might, the idea felt like something that would happen to a faceless stranger in some sterile future that didn’t belong to him. Knowing what he knows now, it’s a relief he never had the chance to pass his biological baggage on to an unsuspecting child.

Sigyn places the dishes into the washbasin with a soft sigh. “No … we had been talking about it though.” She pauses. “You—he was nervous. Which was fair—I was nervous too. But I think it would have worked out.” She smiles fondly. “Your poor mother—she never wanted to push, but she was so eager for grandchildren, and with Thor off traveling most of the time she had basically given up on any from him—”

“Thor traveling?” Loki interrupts, frowning. “How’s that?” He can’t imagine a world where Odin would take lightly to his firstborn spending most of the time away from the realm.

“Oh yes, he had a huge falling out with your father several years back.” She leans back with a huff as she recounts the tale. “Odin banished him to Midgard, then changed his mind and said he could come back but Thor was too stubborn to return unless Odin said that Thor had been right all along, and Odin was too stubborn to ever do that, and it just turned into a whole mess.” Sigyn turns back towards him, her brow furrowed slightly at the memory. “It was hard. You got caught up in the middle of it all, trying to be the mediator, and it was just overwhelming.”

 “Huh.” Loki’s head feels a bit odd. “Something similar happened in my world but … but that’s not how it ended at all.” He shivers, but for once it has nothing to with the cold. He can feel Sigyn’s quizzical eyes on him, and so he clears his throat before she has the chance to question him further. “If Thor’s not there, then does that make me the crown prince?”

“Oh no, that’s Hela. The crown princess, I mean.” She’s turned back to the washbasin, so she doesn’t see the look of utter confusion on Loki’s face.

“Who?”

“Hela. Odin’s firstborn.” Sigyn glances back, eyes widening. “Does she not exist for you either?”

“I—” Loki’s voice doesn’t seem to be working properly. “She – he – Odin has another child?”

Sigyn nods, leaning against the counter. “At least for us. She was his first wife’s daughter. She’s quite a bit older than you and Thor – I don’t think you and her were ever particularly close.” She lets out an anxious huff of a laugh. “She always rather frightened me, to be honest.”

“Goodness …” is all Loki can manage.

Sigyn looks thoughtful as she dries the plates and puts them away. “I’m really surprised she’s not in your timeline,” she says. “I would have thought – because I don’t think yours is that different to mine? – but I suppose so.”

“Yes …” Despite everything—the overwhelming, mindboggling cascade of sudden information—Loki finds himself chuckling. “It seems my version received the short end of the stick. I don’t have you, I don’t have Hela, and I don’t have kompe.”

Leaning back against the counter, Sigyn cackles. “The most painful loss of them all!” She cocks her head to the side, still laughing. “Norns, do you not have harvest festivals? That’s always one of the main dishes for us!”

“Oh, we do—in fact I think we may serve every possible dish at them except for kompe.” He shakes his head, grinning. It feels good to laugh. “Although usually the food comes second to the mead. I remember once I was dancing with a young lady who had had far too much to drink, and she ended up losing the contents of her stomach all down my front.”

He’s not sure where the memory comes from, why it’s bubbling to his mind now. He hadn’t thought of it in years but … Norns, that seems a lifetime ago. He had been so young, a boy still, his hand trembling as he held his hand out to her—it had been the first time he had found the courage to ask a girl to dance. Funny how he can’t remember her name now, or even her face. No, when he thinks of her, all he can remember is standing frozen on the dance floor, dripping in vomit, as somewhere to the side Thor howled with such laughter that he nearly made himself sick as well.

Sigyn looks absolutely horrified. “Oh goodness, that’s terrible!” she cries with wide eyes. “Was she alright? Were you?”

Her concern is a baffling thing. “Oh yes, we were both fine,” Loki says slowly. “She was very embarrassed, if I remember correctly. And I was uninjured—I just needed to change.” He chuckles dryly. “Needless to say, it put me off dancing for a bit.”

“Not permanently, I hope?” There’s a sadness to her that he doesn’t quite understand. “Do you not care for it still?”

“I’m not sure I would say that.” Loki shrugs. “I never had any particular talent for it to begin with. And I was never a very coveted partner.”

“Really?” Sigyn bites her lip, crestfallen. “I remember you dancing so beautifully in my universe. The first time you asked – I felt so unworthy of your hand. I remember the other ladies were quite jealous.”

Jealous. He snorts at the very idea. “I’m afraid we’ve stumbled on to another interdimensional difference.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you say …” Her hesitation is a palpable thing, hovering by the counter as she gazes back at him with unsure eyes. “I’d love to dance with you.”

“What?”

“I’d love to dance with you.” As if to emphasize, she crosses the room and offers him her hand. “Now, even, if you’d like.”

He stares at her hand, unsure how to respond. Is she joking? She must be …

“I appreciate it, but …” he glances up at her. “I’m not your husband.”

Sigyn inhales softly but doesn’t move. “I know,” she says. “I’m not asking my husband.”

Loki raises his eyebrows. Norns, she’s serious. “There’s no music,” he says cautiously.

“We don’t need music.” Her smile is affectionate. “I want to give you a nice dance.”

He huffs. This is absolutely ridiculous, and yet … there’s something almost comforting about the way her fingers close around his when he takes her hand. Sigyn grins as she pulls him to his feet.

“You know how to waltz, don’t you?”

Loki smirks. “I did at one point, at least.” His free hand comes to rest on her hip, some long dormant instinct flickering back to life. She’s the right size to dance with, he thinks suddenly. She fits perfectly into his arms. It’s an odd feeling.

Sigyn reaches out to stroke a loose bit of hair from his face, her fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment before placing her hand on his shoulder. “Think you can follow my lead?”

He inhales. “I’ll do my best.”

It’s hardly a proper waltz—there’s not enough room in the small kitchen for a full dance floor, it’s hard to keep a rhythm without any sort of music, and besides, he’s woefully out of practice, but … there’s something freeing about it. They stumble about the room, Sigyn giggling as she tries to count out the beats as he bumps into the chair again, chuckling through his apologies – “You’re doing fine, just keep going, just like this—”

He smirks. “Still think you’d be jealous of my partner?”

She laughs. “Immensely so.”

He bumps her arm as he tries to twirl her and makes a face. “See, I told you—”

“No, no, you’re doing wonderfully, just like this—” Sigyn tries to spin around, but trips and nearly loses her balance. Loki grabs at her in an attempt to hold her steady, but any semblance of balance has been lost and they both go stumbling into the counter, giggling hysterically.

“Oh goodness!” She manages to gasp between fits of laughter, reaching for his chest. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, bracing himself against the countertop as he tries to catch his breath. “Are you sure all the ladies wanted to dance with me, darling?” he teases. “Perhaps it was you they coveted, with your unique dancing techniques.”

Sigyn collapses into giggles again. “No, I swear, I—”

But she’s cut off by a somber tolling from the corner, rattling the window beneath its cover. Through the course of the after-dinner pleasantries, Loki had forgotten the faceless grandfather clock, forgotten the flickering tower room above them, forgotten everything he had aimed to uncover. How had he let himself become so thoroughly distracted? He glances at his dance partner, who has gone very still beside the counter. The room seems to have dropped in temperature.

“What does that indicate?”

“It …” Sigyn inhales. She looks quite pale. “It means I have to tend to the light.”

“And that means?” When she doesn’t answer, he huffs in irritation. “I want to go with you.”

She shakes her head. “No … no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Again, she’s silent, staring up at the heavy darkness of the staircase. Loki grips her arm, and she flinches. “You promised to tell me everything, remember?”

“I … it’s too many steps. You’ll reopen your wound again.” She won’t look directly at him, not even to try to free herself from his grasp.

“What is up there that you don’t want me to see?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that, it’s just – it’s best if you stay down here.” There’s a desperate tinge to her voice. “Please, just believe me—”

“Why should I?” he snaps. “What are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything, I swear—”

He lets out a puff of air, lets go of her arm. This is getting him nowhere. “I suppose I’ll have to see for myself.”

Her eyes widen. “No—Loki—” She’s grabbing at him, but he brushes her off as easily as a fly and heads towards the staircase. Her pleas are frantic, wild behind him, but he doesn’t turn. She won’t look at him, why should he look at her? “Loki please, just listen to me—” All at once, her voice hardens. “Loki, STOP.”

And then the world goes black.

…

He comes to gradually, the flickering candlelight seeping back through the corners of his vision. Something doesn’t feel right – it’s as if he’s floating. His limbs are numb.

Where am I?

 Loki blinks groggily, taking in his surroundings. Stone walls, plush mattress, modest nightstand … didn’t this happen already? He blinks again. No, he’s not dreaming – he’s back in his original bedroom, the one he woke up in earlier. How did he get here? Images and words come trickling back through his mind, memories of the dance, the clock, the staircase …

She used seidr.

His gaze darkens. Of course she had—how could he have been such a fool to think she wouldn’t? He had known she was capable of it, known that she was hiding something, and yet somehow she had managed to bat her pretty little eyelashes and fill his head with stories of an alternate world – imbecile, he hisses under his breath as he rushes to the door. He knows better than this. He is better than this.

The door is locked tight. Of course it is. She isn’t pretending he’s anything but her prisoner anymore. He bangs with his fists, yelling at her to open it, but there’s no answer. Letting out a frustrated howl, he slams the door with his side. Pain explodes across his shoulder. The wood bends but doesn’t break. Loki huffs. So, she didn’t seal it with magic. An odd choice, but one that would work to his benefit. Still, there must be a better way to go about doing this. He glances around the room for something to use as a battering ram.

His eyes land on the nightstand.

A resounding crash later, and Loki is storming down the hall into the kitchen. He hasn’t much of a plan – finding Sigyn is the goal, but what is he going to do when he does? Force her to reveal her secrets to him? Yes, because that worked so well last time. He grimaces, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. At least this time he’s prepared for her tricks.

But it all comes to nothing, because the kitchen is empty – their dinner dishes still untouched on the counter where she had left them. The grandfather clock looms menacingly in the corner. Loki bites his lip, staring at its faceless visage.

How much time has passed since he lost consciousness? He has no way of knowing. Still, he thinks, his gaze drifting to the shrouded staircase, it’s no mystery as to where she’s gone.

The steps seem less steep this time – perhaps it’s the adrenaline pounding in his ears, or perhaps Sigyn’s talent for healing is really that incredible, but he passes the second level far more quickly this time, climbing into the tower without skipping a beat.

The lighthouse chamber is just as eerie as he remembers it, the flickering lantern casting shadows that dance on the stone walls like spindly spider creatures. There’s another shadow too, a figure moving methodically around the light at the top. Sigyn? Or perhaps someone else? Loki slows his pace as he nears the top to hide his approach.

There’s that voice again—Loki cranes his ears to try to make out what he’s saying, but the words escape him. There’s something familiar to it, something he can’t quite place. Is that … are there multiple voices? He frowns. Yes, there’s definitely more than one person speaking, and not in unison—they’re all talking over each other, yelling over each other, goodness, how had he not heard this before? How had he not heard this panic? It’s clearer and clearer as he climbs closer to the top. Someone, multiple someones, are being tortured. His heart jumps to his throat.

Some of them are breathless, gasping, shaky voices weak with injury as they struggle to gulp a last bit of air.

Some of them are calling out, begging, wailing, howling in pain and screaming for help, piercing shrieks that make his hair stand on end.

Some are just screaming.

What is she doing to them?

Sigyn is up there—he can barely make out the sound of her footsteps on the wooden platform through the sounds of agony. Loki kneels on the steps just beneath, hidden out of sight. His knees are shaking. Because there’s something else. Something lingering in the back of his mind, something that’s been there ever the first time he entered this chamber but that he hadn’t been able to recognize, didn’t want to recognize—he presses his palms to the step in front of him, as familiar words break through the cacophony

“I’ll tell Father what you did here today.”

“I didn’t do it for him.”

It’s him.

It’s all him.

All of the voices, all of the pain, all of the horror, it’s all him.

Loki feels as though he’s going to be sick.

He’s not what he’s expecting to see when he stands. The light burns his retinas but he doesn’t waver in his gaze. It’s white, whiter than anything he’s ever seen in his life, searing deep into his skull, but the more he looks, the more he sees the flashing images flickering past his vision. It’s him—they’re all him—different versions of himself that he’s never seen before, drowning, dying, bleeding out in a prison cell, chests crushed, limbs broken, lips shown shut, all strangers to him except one, a gray body on a gray planet, fading away in his brother’s arms …

He doesn’t see Sigyn until she’s practically upon him, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back down into the staircase. He’s too stunned to fight back.

“I didn’t want you to have to see it,” she whispers hoarsely. She’s crying, he realizes suddenly, her eyes puffy and red. “It’s bad enough for me, I didn’t – I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for you—”

Loki gulps, a great heaving gasp as he collapses against the wall. His cheeks are wet – it seems he’s been crying too. “Why – what is it? What are they?”

“Different timelines. Things that have happened, or are happening, or have yet to happen.” Another Loki shriek breaks through the air, and she shudders. “We should go back downstairs.”

“No—” Loki grabs her wrist. As desperately as he wants to leave this place and never come back, he can’t let her avoid her explanations any longer. “Why are they here? What is this place?”

Sigyn swallows, and another tear drips down her cheek. “They’re connected to the light,” she says at last. “You are too—every Loki is. I have to keep the light burning, or else—” her voice breaks. “Please, can we go downstairs?”

He doesn’t let go. “Or else what?”

She draws a shaky breath. Her voice is barely audible. “Or else you’re all erased.”

Erased. The word hits him like a bucket of cold water. His whole existence, every version of his existence, dependent on the burning of this lantern … He stares at her with wide eyes. “Why?”

“It’s … it’s my fault.” Sigyn is trembling, pressing a hand to her eyes as if to block the tears from coming. “The Norns had to do it, to keep everything stable. They made the light show the worst parts of every timeline. They know—” she hiccups a sob “—they know with those stakes I’d never let it go out.”

There’s something in her eyes, something grey and dead that Loki hasn’t seen before. All at once, he realizes the truth.

“This is a punishment. It has nothing to do with me—it’s your own personal agony.” He’s confused – the Norns do not act as judge and jury, nor do they interfere with the lives of those beneath them. To earn their ire … “What did you do?”

“I … I messed with things I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t trying to, I just … I thought I could—” she inhales again, barely suppressing another sob. “I ripped through reality. Destroyed … several timelines. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it.” She lets out a sigh. “So they put me here. To control me. Connected all the universes to fix what I had done, and left me here to tend to it.”

“Oh …” He believes her – there’s a truth in her face that he hasn’t seen before – but he still doesn’t quite understand. “But … what of your universe? Surely it would be changed by the loss of you? Your Loki, is he not affected?”

“He isn’t. He can’t be.” Her tone is uncharacteristically short. It catches him off guard. “He – he’s gone. My Loki, he’s gone.”

“Gone—” Oh. Loki inhales. All at once, the pieces click into place. Her protective urges towards him, the soft air of sadness that always seems to follow her … Loki’s chest is aching, but it has nothing to do with his wound.

Sigyn continues in halting sentences. “That’s why … I thought – I thought I could save him. Reverse time, start it over again, stop it from happening … Because I couldn’t … without him, I couldn’t—” She gulps a shuddering breath, as if shaking away the memory. “But I couldn’t. I just ended up breaking everything. And the Norns put me here. They made it especially for me.” She laughs, but it’s a humorless sound, broken and bitter. “Keeps me out of trouble, and reminds me … reminds me of what I lost.”

“What you lost?” Loki’s voice is soft.

Sigyn laughs again, tears freely streaming down her face now. “There’s two of everything. They made sure of it—two plates, two chairs, two bedrooms. But it’s just me. It’s only ever just me …” she gulps, then nods in the direction of the great lantern. “Then there’s that … I see every version of you, every awful thing that’s happened to you, all of it, every time I come up these steps. I have to look—” her voice breaks. “I have to watch it all, I have to keep the light going, I can’t lose any more of you—”

She looks up at him, her eyes wide and desperate. “I wasn’t trying to pull you here.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “I really wasn’t. I didn’t think it was possible. I just saw you, on Svartalfheim, drifting away … you weren’t dead yet, but you were so close, and I, I just – I’m so lonely—”

And then she collapses in on herself, shaking with the weight of centuries-old sobs. Loki gingerly reaches towards her – this feels like something private, something not meant for his eyes, but once he touches her she melts into his arms, clinging to him like a life raft as she bawls into his chest. It’s a bit unnerving – he’s never been one skilled at providing comfort. But he holds her firmly, cradling her head against his tunic, and it must be right because she tightens her grip, and it’s just the two of them, two broken souls alone together in a broken world.

“It’s alright,” he hears himself whisper, so low he’s not sure she can even hear him. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

…

The first thing he notices when he opens his eyes is the dust.

Svartalfheim is as dark and barren as he left it, the dirt like ash beneath his fingers as he stretches and twitches, feeling slowly returning to his extremities. His armor is still stained with blood, but the wound beneath has vanished. He’s alone – Sigyn had told him he’d be alone.

“Thor and Jane go off to find a way off world,” she had said. “They think you’re dead, and they can’t afford to take your body with them.” She didn’t know what happened to them after. The light only shows her him.

They had decided to spend one last meal together – she knew that if she didn’t send him back, it wouldn’t be long before someone came to force him to return, but they wanted to take their time with it. She made kompe once more, since he wouldn’t get to taste it again.

“What were you going to do if I hadn’t found out?” he asked her. “Surely you didn’t expect to keep me here forever.”

Sigyn had sighed. She seemed to have aged a century since their moment in the tower, but there was something beautiful to it – an invisible tension that had melted away. “No … I didn’t really have a plan. I just … I didn’t want to lose you again.”

She wasn’t sure what he would remember when he awoke in his own world once more. Would it be as though no time had passed? Would the lighthouse seem like a hazy dream? “That might be for the best, honestly,” she said with a slight smile. “You won’t have anything to grapple with.”

“Perhaps,” he had hummed, but secretly he hoped she was wrong. He didn’t want to forget.

Waking up on the dark planet’s blood splattered soil, Loki’s relieved to find he still can picture her sparkling brown eyes clear as day.

They had danced, too, one last time before he entered into the light. “We can’t let whatever happened with that first one be our dancing legacy,” he had teased. Sigyn laughed and took his hand.

He wondered about her, as they swept across the room in perfect harmony. Perhaps there’s a reason no one else had ever clicked, no one else fit into his arms like the final piece to his puzzle. Maybe she was right – maybe his Sigyn doesn’t exist, through some cruel twist of fate he had no say in. Or maybe she is out there, somewhere in the world, waiting for something she doesn’t realize she’s been waiting for, just as he’s been his whole life. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but perhaps not.

He had kissed her hand at the end, when they were saying goodbye – it was a gesture that might have seemed oddly formal, but he wasn’t sure how to put his cocktail of emotion into words. Her eyes misted up.

“Thank you,” he had whispered – for the food, for the healing, for keeping him alive in a way he couldn’t put into words. It was a meager thanks, but she seemed to understand. She stroked his cheek with cold fingertips.

“No … thank you,” she whispered back. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

And I you.

Loki sighs, sits up. There’s an emptiness in his chest, but he exhales it away. His stint at death has lasted long enough.

Now, it’s time to live.

[nildespirandum]

Nora gets Loki out of Hell, the fun way.

18+ absolutely.  This way to filth.  Tags available on AO3.

I want to thank @caffiend-queen​ for listening to my whining about this chapter (which I am still doing, but on the inside) as well as giving me two lines to use as inspiration when I needed it :

These marks were unnecessary but they're here to remind you of who you belong to.

Couple that with a teenage-level sexual frustration...

The lemure, fallen souls, and lesser devils that made up Loki’s court now all turned their gaze to the witch where she again stood before Loki’s throne.  He could see that they trembled and dripped and stifled whimpers of want by biting down on themselves or each other.  

Over boundless time the pressure of his own punishment had turned them into a kind of extension of his own self.  As he knew no satisfaction, as he was punished not so much for his betrayal of his fellow angels but for his contempt for the weakness of the flesh, they too, those who betrayed for lust, who harmed others for their own needs, were incapable of being satisfied.

Except…

Except there were rumors.  

Rumors that the reason their Prince had not returned to rule them with the firmest hand and hardest cock was that somewhere, somehow, someone had mastered his ungovernable thirst, comforted the deep ache that sank from his balls to his heart, offered solace to the inconsolable grief that was the life of a devil, showered peace upon him, placed a cool hand upon his demonic fire and a warm touch on his angelic chill, and most of all, most impossibly, most terrifyingly, made him come.

They stared from the witch to Loki.

They stared from Loki to the witch.

Their Prince, his horns glowing black with heat, smiled at the witch, his forked tongue flickering out to scent the air, “I can taste you, even through the revolting miasma of these foul things, my witch.  Salt and rosemary and wet cunt.”

He placed a long, taloned hand over his thigh, and drummed the tips of those claws along the seam of the suede leggings that tapered off where his goat’s leg started at the knee.  

There was the silence of a held gasp.  Each tap was terribly soft and clearly heard.

His phallus strained the thin leather, looking more naked for being barely covered.  Each hard, irregular ridge of it was perfectly visible and several of the court were unable to restrain themselves.  Crawling on their bellies, begging at his hooves.

Loki used them as he might a carpet, to not soil himself with the filthy stone floor, walking across their backs, his sinuous body moving impossibly, and he towered over the witch, having to lean down to stare into her eyes, smiling.

“You’ve come to fetch me home.”  It was not a question.

“Yes.”  

He stood to his full height, slowly rubbing circles on his flat belly with the pads of his fingers, “But I am soooo full of the lustful frustration of my darling court,” here he turned and ran the tip of a claw up the cheek of a grey-skinned female demon, drawing blood and making her fall to the ground, humping the air, “I fear I could not make the climb back to the human world.”  

His touch circled lower and he teasingly brushed the head of his cock, so it jumped and strained and grew harder so that the very tip peaked from the waist of his trews and he slowly lapped up the blood from the demon’s face off his claw. Head falling back, Loki’s mouth opened in a wide grin as he pinched himself.

One black pearl of sperm rolled down the fingers of his pinching, teasing hand and splattered to the ground and five lemure fought over the right to lick it up.

The witch didn’t look away.  Instead, she reached out and grabbed that pinching hand, opening it flat.  On the palm was a scar, a thick curve, the opening to facing left, with a crossing piece near the top, all serifed, made by a devilish claw. The Enochian symbol that most closely translated to the Latin script N.

“Do you remember when you made this, husband?  It was after all eight of the Erotes showed up to seduce you en mass, you carved this into your own hand so that no matter how many beautiful Greek love gods were fluttering around you with their dicks out you would remember.  At the time I thought you were just being dramatic, that these marks were unnecessary but they're here to remind you of who you belong to.  Me.”

The court all reared back, a rather maidenly gasp coming from them all at once.  The rumors were true.

               -----------------------------------------------------------------

Nora knew where this was going.

It was going where everything went with Loki.  This time it was going there on a bullet train, complete with other passengers

Even as she was surrounded by the demons, lost souls, and… other things that made up the prisoners of Loki’s little corner of hell it was as if they were alone together.  That was their little trick, a trick that survived Loki’s newest shape change into an eight foot tall pure demon, that when they wanted to be alone they would be even in a crowd.  Just her, and him, and who they were together.  

She needed to believe that, otherwise she was going to be stuck in this little corner of Hell for hundreds of years with Loki and his toys and it was going to suck.  In the bad way.  Because everything here was bad.  The smell, the decor, and couple that with a teenage-level sexual frustration that was the constant state of every creature who lived in the Abyss, and it was going to be very hard for even Nora to maintain her typical good nature and sense of humor.

There was nothing for it.  She was going to have to fuck Loki right out of Hell, even if it was in front of an audience, which meant she had to be very much in control.  

Looking at him, fully demon in a way that he could not manifest in the human world, Nora found herself trying to concentrate on that being in control business.  Or on anything.  

As he was, familiar and utterly alien at once, perfuming the air with musk-like incense, like himself, impossibly different, frightening in a way he had never been, never could be, when in the human world.  Her husband and a stranger.  

Beautiful and weird and disturbing and comforting.

Both of whom she could do anything she wanted to.  

Nora wanted many things.

Her nipples were painfully tight, her cunt swollen to aching, her own frustration at the situation and at her desire to lower herself on that highly inhuman cock and rock back and forth as well as her annoyance at once again not being able to spend a quiet Halloween at home, and the heavy, yet racing beat of her heart timed with the same beat from between her legs made her want to bite something.

So she lifted the massive hand, with its long claws and its extra joints, sucked two of the fingers, still wet with black sperm that tasted of smoke and cardamom, her own eyes rolling back as they traced over her tongue and then bit.  Hard.  Hard enough to make Loki moan, hard enough to make a whining sound of frenzy and fury rise amongst his thralls, hard enough to draw blood that tasted like port wine and poison.

Hard enough that her husband fisted through her hair, lifted her so her legs found the place they longed to be wrapped about his waist, and stared into her eyes, his own glowing with a heat beyond red, beyond blue, burning with black Hellfire.  

“Bad girl.  I know you can bite harder.”

They were on his throne, and Loki was coiled about her, his long body letting him enwrap her entirely so she was being touched everywhere.  

His arms had extra joints.

His new, extra-long arms had extra joints!

For whatever reason, that got into Nora’s head and wouldn’t stop repeating itself.  The extra movement in the hips, the cloven hooves, even the new cock were within the realm of what she would expect from her Incubus, and certainly the fingers too.  Loki was all about style and range of motion, and while yes - her brain spun as she felt his arms coil about her impossibly - this was an increased range of motion it was also too far beyond human for her vain husband.  

The hand she wasn’t alternately sucking on and making a chew toy of entered her from the front, scratching its way between their bellies and then her legs, not teasing, not toying, thrusting in, his claws making his fingers like a spade, and had she not been ready it would have hurt, Nora knew that.  But though it didn’t, it was invasive, unfamiliar because those fingers were now long and impossibly jointed to match his arms.  

Using those unnatural joints and his already unnatural strength, he turned her, so she faced the crowd, his muscled thighs spreading her legs.  

Enveloping black flames rolled down her body, turning her clothing, other than her boots, into ash.  The fire took its time, stroking her with an unsatisfying thoroughness that left Nora humping his generous hand, unable to stop herself.

The crowd cooed and moaned and wailed.

Nora froze, and Loki made a hrumphing noise, then spoke calmly.  “Set your faces silently to the earth.”

As one the assembled crowd of monsters, the damned, and demons all fell face down and didn’t move again.

“There, little witch,” and Nora did feel rather small, for if her Fallen Angel husband was tall, her Demon Lover was out of human proportion, “they can hear, they can smell, but they cannot see.  Does that ease you?”  

He crooned and nuzzled, and licked a fine line as he continued her undoing.

Enwrapped impossibly, she could not evade the other hand that now slithered from her mouth and wrapped about her neck from behind so the claws on that hand pricked the spot where his hoof had pierced the soft place under her chin.

At the same moment, the nails on the hand within her scratched gently, abrading across every especially tender spot in her cunt, so that she could feel it even after he had moved on to the next.  Unable to stop herself she tried to jump, to squirm.

“Now, now, witch,” the hell-fire of his breath blew hot enough to be cold against her ear, “you will damage yourself if you don’t.  Stay.  Still.”  His arms wrapped harder, anchoring her against him, his cock split her behind so it nestled hard against her, throbbing against her asshole, and his tail reaching about so the fine point of its tip stroked her clit softly and barely, like it was an irritable kitten it was hoping to gentle.

The wet dripped out of her, falling past his hand where it hissed on the hot ground.  Nora felt far from gentle, being touched so little yet so insistently, unable to do anything to get more pressure or less, enduring as her muscles clenched and sweat soaked her, and him.  The hair on his legs scratched and tickled, his tongue, forked and impossibly long, teased into her ears with a shallow fucking motion.  

Turning her head, he kissed her, that tongue stroking the overly sensitive skin inside of her lips until it was unbearable and then snaked farther and farther until she was suckling on it as if it were as sweet as his cock.

His tail rewarded her with sharp, rhythmic taps that matched her suck.  

Her one hand was free enough to dig into his side, with still enough fine salt dusting her fingers to hurt beautifully, making Loki hiss into her mouth, his tongue slithering away so he could speak.

“How many places shall I take you?”

Nora shook her head, hard.  The delicious, overwhelming desire, need, hunger, drive, craving, wanting, starvation that Loki had always woven through her, through them, was weak fucking tea compared to what was going on now.  Not merely because of the changes in his body, the overactive Incubus pheromones, or the resonance echoing from the ever-unfulfilled passions that made up his court.  

Though none of that helped.

Biting down on her own lower lip until the salt of her blood filled her mouth, through which she whispered a few lines of a song from The Wave Pictures ( I used to be the most argumentative little man/ I used to be argumentative and I still am… ) as an incantation that gave her back enough brain to say -

“I’m the one taking.”

The words splattered a bit of her blood on his lovely face, with them her intent.  

Loki was infinitely more powerful than she was, especially so in Hell.  Or would have been, if not for that mark on his hand.  The mark he’d insisted on, no doubt for fearing moments just like this.

He licked his lips clean of her blood, and the sigil on his hand flared with white fire and his back arched and his pupils dilated past his glowing red corneas, turning the whole of his eyes black with the need to see more of her.  When his eyes were like that Nora was reasonably sure he could see her soul.  His arms loosened just enough that she could turn, to straddle him, her knees digging painfully into the carved metal of his throne, her wet barely teasing the head of his cock.  

Even seated, he was so tall that Nora had to reach up a little to grasp his horns.  They scorched her hands, the pain breathtaking, making her cunt clench for want of anything to hold.

Loki’s talons sunk into the arms of his throne, the metal shrieking.  

“Beg me,” Nora said.  Or she thought she did.  She couldn’t get enough air to speak.

Instead, Loki being as stubborn as she was, jerked his hips up and impaled her.  

Now she truly didn’t have any air, all of it forced out of her as Loki’s hips, his unnatural muscles, caused his torso to ripple and wave, making his cock move impossibly within her.  That cock, no longer the one she knew and had worshiped and played with and mastered over and over, already strangely shaped now seemed to…

It was…

It was reforming within her.  Ridges and whorls and bumps forming in places where she hadn’t known she needed them, where she probably hadn’t needed until she came to his demesne. Growing to the point of being unbearable, thick enough that she was forced to spread impossibly wider, even as it pushed so deep she now rested on his thighs, holding on for dear life as he moved like a snake on meth.  

And silent.  

If there was no greater proof that he was altered it was that he’d been quiet for well over ten minutes.  The demon in him was holding on for dear life.

This wasn’t either the melting pleasure or the fiery wildness they shared, or any of the other million variations between them.  This was a lust that came from having nothing like satisfaction.  Every stroke within her, deep or shallow, in an impossible rhythm, made her burn and writhe and the sound of their bodies together was obscene and violent.  

Yet all of it not quite enough to get either of them off.  As was the way of Hell.

His eyes stared off at some empty place that Nora knew was really inside of him.

In retaliation she ground down, her clit punishing itself on the silky hair and hard muscle above his cock, her mouth capturing his, kissing him hard, making him kiss her, not just fuck her mouth with that amazing tongue, making him look at her with those black eyes.

For a moment, she thought he couldn’t see her.  

The pleasure rose within her, and rose and rose, growing to agony.  By the gritting of his fangs and the spittal at the corner of his mouth, Loki wasn’t in much better shape.  The only difference is it wouldn’t kill him.

She pulled his horns, which spat and sizzled with Hellfire, the sparks catching his hair which burned but did not char and when she whispered his name, with soft love and little desperation, he saw her.  Once again, in those perfectly black eyes, she saw Loki.

“Nora…”

He saw her, too.

His tail snaked around both of them, wrapping them together over and over, a sweet bit of bondage made cheeky, made Loki by that hard tip finding a way to tease her nipples.

“I am going to take us home, my love,” each word was pushed out of her by the impact of his cock bottoming out in her, “now.”

With the words ‘us’ and ‘home’ and ‘my’ and ‘love’ Loki, demon prince, King of the Sex Demons, trembled.  And that tremble, that sweet weakness that belonged to her alone, fluttered and juttered and throbbed through Nora and she ground down harder and completely and came, begging and babbling and all but falling off except they were so tightly bound.

Loki’s head whipped up, to stare at her with astonishment, the rarest thing from her jaded lover.  A gasp, like the sound of wildfire, crossed through the members of his court, their faces still kissing the ground.

“That’s right,” she nodded to him, kissing him through the rest of her orgasm, while in that tiny space between them that allowed all but no motion she rode him, with implacable purpose and taking his face in her hands, staring at his beauty and his strangeness, Nora watched Loki give himself utter over to her.

When he finished, weak and smiling with an open mouth, Loki kissed her nose, and leaned his forehead to hers.

                      --------------------------------------------------------------------

Like that they stayed, silent and smiling, forehead to forehead, as Pandemonium failed to ensue about them.

Loki gently rubbed his nose against Nora’s, and then her cheek, and down her neck, burying himself in the well of her shoulder as he every muscle unlock and soften, holding her closer, more tenderly and yet somehow, in one of those mysteries of love that he was still unable to understand, somehow more firmly for that tenderness.

Nora touched his cheek, “Say something.”

“What?”

“Anything,  You aren’t you without running commentary.”

“My treasure, my sweet witch, are you saying that I talk too much?  Because I can assure you that there have been Maharajahs who have begged for me to even clear my throat for them. Peter the Great once threatened to behead an entire village if I stopped reciting a five-thousand-stanza poem I wrote about stonemasonry.  He was quite passionate on the topic. The High Priestess of Fallen Ur once walked barefoot through the desert to have me tell her every one of my thoughts and feelings on the best type of honey.  And its best uses,” he dropped his voice, “of course.”

“Of course,” she laughed.

He pulled her closer, should closer have been possible.

Even as he did so, Loki was aware, around the sound of his own voice, that the Pandemonium had not merely failed to ensure, but something else was happening entirely.  Peeking over Nora’s shoulder he saw that the members of his court were all still on the ground as he had ordered them, but they were no longer rock still, noses pressed to the filthy earth, trying to still their trembles of desire.

They were…

Asleep.

Every lost soul, demon, lemure, damned creature, and day-tripping Goth was sleeping.  

With smiles of relief on their faces.

It was impossible.  No one was allowed to sleep in Hell.  More than that, for all intents and purposes sleep, or even rest, did not exist as achievable states within the Fiery Pit.  His own torment meant Lucifer could not so much as close His burning eyes, let alone achieve a bit of comforting oblivion.

And if the Bossman didn’t sleep, neither could anyone else.

Loki was inclined to believe that the chief reason that the members of the Infernal Host didn’t mind being summoned by humans was that being in the Realms of Man meant they could catch 40 winks now and then.  In his case, as one of the Fallen, he’d only been able to roll over and go to sleep since Nora, but he’s always enjoyed lounging about in bed despite that.

But now….

Oh now….

Not only were the members of his court blissfully snoring away - well, not actually snoring, since none of them breathed but the metaphor was good - but Loki was aware of how far the sleeping quiet stretched out.  Far beyond the iron doors of his redoubt and deep into caverns of Dis and further.

“Uh, oh.”

“What?” Nora asked, turning to look, wincing slightly since he was still in her and she had to be raw.

“Do you remember when we fucked Chicago to a standstill?”

“Best snow day ever,” she said.  Then she turned back to look at him, wide-eyed, “No!”

Loki looked into her bright brown eyes and nodded, knowing he should be concerned but not able to stop himself from smiling and nodding with pure arrogance, “Oh, yes.  Yes, we did.  Everyone is asleep, everyone is having a moment of rest.  Of respite.   Thanks to the dare I say halo effect from your magnificent cunt.”

“Oh, man…” carefully extricating herself from him with more winces and groans, Nora stood, her boots echoing loudly in the unnatural silence. “We better get out of here before we get in trouble.”

Loki wanted to laugh at that, but she was right, or rather, belatedly right.  They were already in terrible trouble.  For one, it was rather well past his expiration date for leaving Hell.  He was stuck in his little corner of the Pit for nearly a millennium, maybe more.  Even worse, asleep as the Damned and the Damners may be, there was one creature other than the two of them that was awake within Perdition.  

“Gelusael.”

The voice was not loud, for it needed not to be.  Had Loki blood in his veins rather than ichor it might have frozen solid or burned away to steam.  Since the Fall only Nora had called him by his true name and hearing it in the voice of a fellow Angel was an agony that he refused to show.

“Is that… Lucifer?”  Nora asked, not turning to look towards the now open door to his throne room, but covering herself with an arm across her breasts and a hand shielding her sex.  Her short hair drifted in the cold winds that came from those opened doors and, debauched and smudged and covered in red marks and bruises from their attentions to each other, her eyes resolute, she was more beautiful than he could bear.

Loki flicked his eyes over her, dressing her in her favorite plain black dress and a witches hat with a brim broad enough to shield her from the sight of heaven, had it not been too late for that.

“I wish.  Lucy’d be a piece of piss by comparison.”

Turning on his heel, and changing into a pine velvet court suit from the 18th century since it would best show off his cloven hooves - which he found he had rather missed once he had them back, though they did limit one’s choice of shoe - he took off his feather trimmed tricorn and executed a bow elaborate enough to be insulting.

“Welcome to Hell, Michael,” he said to his Brother Angel, “I haven’t seen you since you tossed me out of heaven.  How was the trip?”

The Golden Favoritest Boy of their Father (after pretty Lucy had become such a disappointment) frowned mightily, “I have words for you Gelusael.  Words that cannot be spoken in this place.”  

Nora moved next to Loki, and took his hand.

Lifting his spear, he tapped the butt end down, the visible waves of  sound echoing and echoing and echoing through the slumbering Caverns of Gahanna.  And when they fell silent, they were standing in the living room of Nora’s little bungalow, having missed Halloween yet again.

Incubus!Loki and the rest of the Gang will be back in A Grimoire for the Holidays. See you then....

Let me know if you are interested in being added to my taglist!

​

@caffiend-queen​ @myoxisbroken​ @joyfullymassivewhispers​ @just-the-hiddles​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @toozmanykids​ @someillplanetreigns​ @piggledy-higgledy​ @dianamolloy​ @catsladen​ @lokislastlove​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @is-it-madness​ @ransoms-sweater-holes​ @mischiefmaker76​ @evieplease​ @clove-pinks​ @nerdygirl203​ @perksofeatingbacon​ @ladyacrasia​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @latent-thoughts​ @redfoxwritesstuff​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @servent-alearika​ @mariwild​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rauko-art​ @reileth​ @lokiestorch​ @wrathkitty​ @undecidedsworld​ @lokiperfection​ @mfluderesq​ @wolfsmom1​ @incurablyromanticsblog​ @pigilene​ @mdemontespan1667​ @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​ @oddlymurderousplant​ @huntress-artemiss​ @arch-venus25​ @i-stand-with-loki​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @kikster606​ @gigglingtigger​ @mischief2sarawr​ @sylviefromneptune​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ ​

[mikkeneko]

Loki cleared his throat. "I've never," he said. "I've never fed a man his own legs."

Wei Wuxian drank. Harrow frowned into her glass. "Does it count if it was my leg?"

"...No, but now I'm intrigued yet disturbed," Loki said.

---

Happy Halloween! Have some cross-fandom crack.

[bushs-world]

Trick-or-Treat! I have come knocking on your Tumblr door asking for a treat. You can answer with a meme, a bit of art/fic, a fic recommendation, pictures of candy, or something else! Then go to your mutual’s Tumblr door and ask them for a treat! Happy Halloween! 🎃👻 (don’t answer until October 31)

I have the perfect answer to this ask. Two fanfic recommendations

Trickster or treatster: A choose your own adventure halloween collab where Loki, Sylvie, Love and Thor go around town trying the different Halloween activities in New Asgard

The person in the mirror: I originally wrote this for Friday the 13th but it will work for halloween too. Sylvie is being chased around by her variant

Happy halloween to you too

[wwwdotstardotnet]

I got bored so here's a little get-to-know-you tag game I think could be fun :3

Name(s)

Pronouns

Star sign

# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any)

# of pets & their names

Fandoms

Favorite color

Favorite song

Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!)

Hobbies

Favorite fic type

Favorite holiday

Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!)

Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share!

────────

Name(s): Loki (highly preferred), Elye

Pronouns : they/them mostly, he/she okay too

Star sign: Pisces

# of siblings: I've got 2! An older sister and a younger sibling. The fun fact about them is that they're also both queer; in fact, my mom is too. The only non-queer person in my immediate family is my dad.

# of pets: 4 cats! Phoebe & Frankie are our girls, Lenny and Murray are our boys :3

Fandoms: MCU (kind of), BSD, OFMD, Ranboo (does his fanbase count as a fandom?)

Fav. color: Don't have one

Fav. song: Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon

Fav. author: Alice Oseman

Hobbies: singing, acting, drawing, writing, procrastinating

Fav. fic type: Fluff, definitely. I am a sucker for well written coffee-shop and flower-shop aus, too. Smut's fine, but only if it's romantic. I can't do angst if there's no comfort.

Fav. Holiday: Hanukkah or Halloween! I love autumn and winter

Partners?: Yes! I have a girlfriend (queerplatonic) who I love very much, and a boyfriend (romantic) who I love very much :]

Fun facts:

- Even though I'm a cat person, I really, really want a dog.

- I actually used to play sports. Because I don't do gendered leagues anymore, I don't play, but I've been looking for mixed/gender-neutral/queer sports teams. Baseball and basketball specifically!

- I started questioning my identity in 2019; I'm no closer to finding a label now than I was then. The difference is, now I don't want a label. I just am. :]

tags: @neonganymede @cha0ticlesbian @x-chiara @exceleo @brinnybee @autistic-katara @gandalfthemorallygrey @ohboyanotherlokiblog @roachandrenfri @ourflagmeanslokius @exceleo @edettethegreat @swiftlyspidey

[autumnvine]

Tom Hiddleston Fiction

Loki Fiction

[liminalpebble]

Another Unhinged Gathering (Spooky Edition) 💚🎃💚

My dear sweet lovely thirsty whores I have gathered you together today to have another unhinging thirstfest and celebrate the most magical season (and the near return of our collective horned boyfriend).

We're all sitting around a fire pit with hot drinks, wearing lovely soft blankets around our shoulders (and costumes!) . What is yours? I made pumpkin scones. What are you bringing to the potluck?

Oh here's Johnathan Pine, coming out the door in his crisp little three piece suit asking if all of us "lovely ladies" are enjoying our stay at this lodge and will gladly prepare the hot tub for us later.

Adam is lurking in the treeline. Leaning moodily against at a tree. He's thirsty and thinks we all look delicioussss.

Hux is quietly sipping tea and stroking Millicent the cat...but ohhhh does he have plans.

Eddie's just pulled up with a cheap six pack and a lunchbox full of "magical herbs" for our enjoyment. He even made brownies. He's already running around and jumping into piles of leaves while singing Black Sabbath. He loves Halloween, and wants to snuggle up with all of us later to watch horror moves.

We're all wondering where Loki is, but of course, he's probably running fashionably late. I wonder what kind of spectacular entrance he'll make? Do any of you see him?

There's a figure out there by the water as well with a lovely blue sweater, scarf, and wind-tussled curls. Is it a ghost? Is it the fabled ghost of Mr. Sharpe or Reverend Ransome haunting the grounds?

Oakley is surely around somewhere being a little shit (probably swiping Eddie's special brownies).

So let's pour that spiked cider, enjoy our basic bitch lattes, eat some apple pastry, be hot as fuck in our Halloween costumes and thirst in unison.

@acidcasualties @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @holdmytesseract @infinitystoner @smolvenger @tripleyeeet @take-everything-you-can @leelei1980 @unlucky-number-13 @unfocused81 @sweetsigyn @veemoon @loz-3 @little-wormwood @littlespaceyelf @glitchquake @viv-annelore @lokihiddleston @peachyjinx @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @marcotheflychair @mochie85 @muddyorbs @sunflowerdaydreamer @sailorholly @holymultiplefandomsbatman @thedistractedagglomeration @hellfirenacht @thenerdyoldersister @alexakeyloveloki @lemongingerart @eddiethehunted @fanfic-collection @girl-next-door-writes @fictive-sl0th @mischiefmaker615 @icytrickster17 @ladyofthestayingpower @sarahscribbles @anukulee

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Marvel Masterlist

Hey, hey! Welcome to my Marvel Masterlist!

Here is the link to my Main Masterlist and My Navigation

And my requests currently are CLOSED

And I no longer write for these characters or this fandom for personal reasons (I still enjoy the show, but I just don't read or write fanfics for it anymore)!

Last Updated On: 11|12|23

All Characters (MCU & XMEN)

Ghost of Them (🥀)

MCU

All Characters

Do They Give Good Hugs/How Often Do They Hug You (❤️)

The Avengers Reaction To You Slapping Them (❤️🤷‍♀️)

Morning Sweetheart (🥀)

I Once Asked If It Was Between Me and Him, Who Would You Choose?: Part 1 (🥀)

And They Chose Him: Part 2 (🌹)

I Killed Them (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Bucky Barnes

Embraces (🌹)

I'm Sorry (🌹)

They Forgot, But That's Okay (🌹)

Loki

All You Need Is Love (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

High? Hi (Gender Neutral Reader) (🤷‍♀️)

Just Sleep (🌹)

Loki Come Down (🥀✨)

You’re An Idiot, But I Love You (Trans-Male Reader) (🌹)

Got You (🌸)

Soulmate AU: Version 1 (🌹)

Soulmate AU: Version 2 (🌹)

Those Are Mine (🌸)

Hanahaki Disease AU (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

Everything Changed (🌹🥀)

Being With Him Includes (❤️)

Another Life (🥀)

We'll Get Through (🌹)

I'm Lonely Without You (🌹🥀)

Stupid For You (🌹)

Soulmate AU (🌹)

Wait For Me To Come Home (🌹🥀✨)

You Tried (Peter’s POV) (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Peter's Reaction To The End of S7EP12 Of The Clone Wars (🌸)

Your House: Part 1 (🥀)

We Weren't Perfect: Part 2 (🥀)

I'm Happy For You: Part 3 (🌹🥀)

Unexpected (🤷‍♀️)

My Yellow (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

Here (Male Reader) (🌹)

Worst Couple (🥀)

Happy Halloween (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

I'm Fine (Stark!Reader) (🥀)

I Love You 10,000 (Stark!Reader) (🥀)

I'm Just--I Know (Stark!Reader) (🌹)

Hanahaki Disease AU (🌹)

Let Me Help (Stark!Reader) (🌹)

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield)

He Just Did (🥀)

I'm Sick And Tired Of It All (🌹🥀)

Natasha Romanoff

Happy Birthday (Romanogers!Reader) (🌹)

I Love and Miss You (🥀)

Something Like That (🌸)

Pietro Maximoff

Hanahaki Disease AU (🥀)

Sam Wilson (No Longer Write For)

My Daughter? (🌹)

Steve Rogers

Soulmate AU (🌹)

Little Things That You Do That Steve Loves/Finds Cute (❤️)

I Thought You Left Me For Good (🌹🥀)

Happy Birthday (Romanogers!Reader) (🌹)

Hanahaki Disease AU (🤷‍♀️)

Something Like That (🌸)

Thor

I’m Sorry For Ignoring You (Male Reader) (🌹)

Tony Stark (No Longer Write For)

Hanahaki Disease AU (🌹🥀)

XMEN

All Characters

Do They Give Good Hugs/How Often Do They Hug You (❤️)

Liar! (🥀)

I Want To Go Back! (🥀)

It’s All My Fault (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

The X-Men’s Reactions To You Slapping Them (❤️🤷‍♀️)

Alex Summers (Havok)

Yeah, In A Cowboy Hat (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

Friends or Lovers? (🥀)

You're Jealous (🌹)

Take It and Go (🥀)

But You’re Not Mine (Gender Neutral Reader): Version 1 (🥀)

But You’re Not Mine (Gender Neutral Reader): Version 2 (🥀)

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

All So Sudden (🌹)

Early Morning Watch (🌹)

Hank McCoy (Beast)

You Weren’t The Only One! (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Jean Gray

I Love You (🌹)

Warmth (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

It's Okay Jean (Platonic!Reader) (🤷‍♀️✨)

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

You Are Doing Amazing (🌹)

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Thank You (Gender Neutral Reader) (🌹)

Peter Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Everything Will Be Fine (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

5 More Minutes (Gender Neutral Reader) (🥀)

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

All I Have Are Flashes (🤷‍♀️)

[divine-knight-hand]

I am simultaneously excited and scared to release the second work of my Halloween Triple Feature this weekend… 😅

I’m not gonna go into specifics here, cuz I don’t want to turn anyone off from reading it.

All I’m saying is, I really hope you all like it when it gets here! 😅

(Also, I accidentally had it planned for Loki month, so I think that’s a good sign! 😼)

[eddiesxangel]

tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better!!! ty for the tag Bby @cooliestghouliest 🩷

- favourite color(s): pink, purple, green

- last song: give yourself a try the 1975

~currently reading: flawless Elsie Silver and all the fanfics

- last movie: Halloween Town

~ sweet/spicy/savoury: savoury and sweet

- currently working on: rockstar!eddie x pop!princess part 2, communityservice!eddie x receptionist reader, perv!eddie x perv!bestfriend reader 😈

No pressure tags: @allthingsjoeq @onegirlmanytales @oneforthemunny @eddieschains @lokis-army-77 @queenimmadolla @screammunson @reidsbtch @lilthbunny

[nildespirandum]

For Kinktober.  Tags on AO3.  Absolutely 18+.

Part of this series -  https://archiveofourown.org/series/1179989

Incubus Loki and his witchy wife have a very naughty anniversary

Ignoring the order given to her to stay still, Nora pushed her sopping hair away from her eyes, wiped the back of her hand on her wet lower lip, and looked up.

“You are a very contrary creature, witch.”  

The voice was as clean and smooth as the facet of a diamond, save a little purr at the end.  As if it was pleased that she has been disobedient.  Or, rather, as there would be pleasures to be found because she had disobeyed.

The dim light from candle sconces high on the walls that had been carved too straight and too true out of black stone did Nora’s merely human eyesight the favor of leaving most of the demonic creatures that writhed in perfect silence around the massive space to her imagination

Or perhaps not.  Her imagination had always been a bit too wild for the good of her sanity, particularly at the moment.  That she could see the suggestions of motion, could smell the musky, smoky, meaty funk coming from them, feel the rising temperature from body heat and bodies in heat, made her mind fill in all sorts of terrible details that may or may not have been worse than the reality that was only barely visible to her in the reddish air.

Worse, she hoped silently, I really hope what I am thinking is way worse.

The only properly illuminated spot was where the Master of the Revels sat, where she kneeled before him.  

Lounging upon a throne made of rusted iron and bones of things that Nora couldn’t name and draped with a thick, black fur, he leaned forward, one elbow resting on a right knee that was unnaturally far spread from the left, while his back was bowed forward slightly too far.  As if his hips, his pelvis, and his spine were subtly different than that of other human ish beings, as if to allow for wider ranges of motion than were typical.

His head cocked to the left to take her in.  Very far to the left, again, showing a more than typical range of possible movements.  Unblinking, he lifted and stretched out his left leg very, very slowly, so she could see each effortless play of muscle in his bare, pale blue torso, in his thigh that was covered in thin leather.  Not needing to stretch, his legs being very long, eventually, after enough time that Nora’s knees hurt, her entire body ached in conflicting ways, the tip of his shining, cloven hoof touched the soft place under her chin, lifting it higher, prouder, until she had to raise herself up, so her knees barely touched the ground to keep from being pierced.

Twisting his ankle from side to side he turned her face to the left and right, humming a bit.  

A bit of blood, no more than a thread’s width, rolled down her neck and down his hoof.

Her thighs burned.

“You are not the prettiest witch I’ve had on her knees, yet you are fetching.  In your way.”

In that beautiful voice, now smoky with thoughtfulness, what he said was both an insult and a compliment.

Quicker than a viper, he pulled his leg back and Nora fell onto her hands, barely catching herself before her lips brushed the place where his lower, goat’s leg met his hoof.

The rough stone floor scraped her palms.  

That was it.  She was irked now.

Standing up, arms akimbo - and hiding a wince from those abraided palms slapping onto her hips - Nora met his burning eyes.  “Alright, Loki, can we stop fucking around and go home now?”

He laughed, not the low, ratcheting laugh she knew but an opened-mouthed howl of cruel mirth.  “Oh, little witch, the ‘fucking around’ never stops here,” he waved a loose hand about at the masses.  “At least, until those doing the fucking stop entirely.”

It wasn’t a little game, she realized then.

“Oh for Gods’ sakes!  What is this?  Memory loss?  Wasn’t this bad enough when it happened to me?”

The laughter stopped, “I don’t care for that kind of language, my little wife,” he snapped.

Not memory loss, then.  Something weirder.

Something worse.

In that same instant of realization, all of the sounds from around her that had been silenced by his earlier command recommenced.  Moaning, gasping, slapping, screaming, crying, begging, pleading, wet sounds, impact sounds, broken sounds, sounds that she feared what made them and other sounds where she feared even more what caused them, deafened her but even above that discordance, Loki’s unraised voice was perfectly clear.

“Take her.”

Nora couldn’t count the number of hands that pulled her into the mass of bodies.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days earlier…

It was almost Halloween, a time of both celebration and trepidation in Loki and Nora’s household.

Halloween had brought them together, more than once. They had fallen in love on Halloween, or at least had consummated the part of their relationship that had gone from physical to metaphysical.  Nora had proposed to him on Halloween. They had married on Halloween.  

Yet it had also caused any number of problems for them.  Loki’s failed return to his pre-lapsed state.  Nora’s near-permanent memory loss.  That thing with the goblins…  The fire.  The other thing with the other goblins…

The last few years had been peaceful enough.  No unwanted visitors or burning.  Just far too much candy since sadly for Nora, most of the children in their neighborhood were too afraid to come to their door, even with the enticement of full-sized chocolate bars and elaborate little Japanese toys for the allergic, a few witchy rituals, and a great deal of slow, ceremonial sex magic in the flickering glow of the horror movie marathon Loki personally curated every year.  

There was no better version of Dracula , or even Night of the Living Dead , than the ones that had been given his special touch.

That very peacefulness was what gave Loki pause.  The two sides of his being both believed that on a day of questionable omen if things had gone well for a certain frame of time then it was a certainty that they would also go wrong for an equal frame of time.  

Or worse, they would make up the difference all at once.

Nora had waved away his concerns, mostly because it was a busy time of year for her and the Witch’s council and she had asked him to decorate, probably to keep him occupied so he would not brood or worry.  As if he were unaware of her pitiful attempt at subterfuge, and as if he could not brood and worry and design perfect decor all at once.

What manner of creature did she think she was married to?

Still, Loki thought as he sat down for a well-deserved rest after letting his angelic half go mad with cleaning and decorating their bungalow for All Hallow’s Eve, it was their anniversary and that alone meant that even though he knew he was right he also knew they needed to celebrate.

A glass of purple-red wine appeared in his hand as Loki surveilled his good work.

He’d chosen a mid-century theme this year, which meant entirely new furniture, with a half-circle sofa of black with orange pillows, a kidney-shaped coffee table covered with a few pillar candles and a streamlined sculpture of a cat with an arched-back carved from obsidian.  The thick center rug was patterned with a few large, fall leaves broken down to geometric shapes and matched the curtains.

Here and there a jack-o-lantern carved with wicked faces dotted the various surfaces, a drinks cart was entwined with bat wings, and around the ceiling were perfectly straight lines of lights shaped like classic ghosts.  Even the tv had been replaced with a Philco-tv, though of a size never dreamt of in the era of the cathode-ray tube.  

Loki snapped his fingers at it and the Vampira show - unseen by mortal eyes since 1954 - flicked on.  Now there was a woman he rather missed having the opportunity to pleasure, back when his cock was available to anyone other than Nora.  

Upstairs he could hear Nora enacting a ritual over Zoom, her low, musical voice perfuming the air.  Out of doors, the scent of leaf fires and the tossing of brightly bedecked tree branches pleased the angelic side of him, whilst the idea of dressing his treasured witch in Vampira’s costume and fucking her against the cabinet hi-fi whilst -

There was a knock at the door.

A single knock.

Firm.  Not loud.  Not heavy.  On the wood and not the glass.

Loki stood and turned towards the door which swung open.  

Nothing was on the other side of it.  

Not the porch, not the yard, nothing and nothing within that nothing, which he calmly strolled into, the door closing behind him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who was th-”

Nora stopped on the stairs, almost falling as her tennis shoes skidded on their weirdly slick surface.

She grabbed the railing.  It was freezing.

More than freezing, it was covered in ice.  

She thought she’d heard someone at the door while they were at the highest point of the ritual.  If they were a normal household it might have been kids fucking around in anticipation of the holiday, but not even the brattiest kids or annoying or dangerous ones in their neighborhood came to their door.  It could have been a delivery, with their seventh anniversary approaching they’d been getting a lot of packages.

No one they knew in the mystical world wanted to miss a chance to suck up either one of them.

The living room, which Loki had almost been done decorating when she went upstairs, was freezing cold.  Far colder than it was outside.  Cold enough that a thin rime of frost covered the windows, the floor, every surface, stepping into the living room even the rug crunched under her feet.  

Everything was gray with frost and the room felt empty despite the evidence of Loki’s work.

“Loki?”

She called out, going into the kitchen.

He was not there either.  But the frost was.  And that empty feeling, even though Claire the Cat had been sleeping on the kitchen table.  She woke with a stretch, then yowled at the cold and jumped into Nora’s arms, burrowing into her sweater.

“Loki?” Nora called out again, even though she knew she wouldn’t be answered.  

Pulling out one of the chairs from under the table, the sound of its legs cutting through the frost loud in the empty-feeling space, Nora sat down hard and hugged Claire to her, telling her everything would be fine.  

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