lokirarepairbigbang - Tumblr blog

lokirarepairbigbang · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Vampire! Stephen Strange x Lust Demon! Loki

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Minors, ageless, blank & non-updated blogs will be blocked immediately.

Word count: 9,487 words

Plot: Stephen Strange is a newly turned vampire, and he would do anything to become human again. Even if it means selling his soul to a Prince of Hell. This is a prequel to Gimme Danger.

Warnings: Purposeful (vampiric) starvation, continual body horror, slight angst, drinking and alcohol, violence and bloodletting, swearing, blasphemy (Loki is a prince of Hell after all), sex- including bloodplay, degredation, BDSM and dom/sub dynamics, anal and oral sex, Stephen and Loki's brattiness, monsterfucking, pain play, magic used for sexy times.

Notes: Part of the @lokirarepairbigbang! This challenge is a very exciting writer-artist collaboration, and I'm very excited to have artwork by the wonderful ManyManyMonsters! Make sure to visit her AO3! It took several months to write, but I am proud of this little prequel.

Beta’d by the always wonderful @boop-le-snoot!

Chapter Music:

The ancient book hit the wall with a hard thud. Another failure, another dead end. Stephen breathed heavily as his scarred, shaking hands curled into fists.

Despite the warm, sunny day, his bedroom was cast in a shadow of his own making. Angry whispers spoke around him, their words obscured.

Stephen clutched his hair and screamed out in frustration, shuddering in pain as wings extended from his back. He looked around in fear, sharp blue eyes widening at the chorus of voices and creeping darkness. It was happening again.

“Stop!” he sobbed, covering his face with his hands. “Please. Stop. Not again.”

The room was bathed in light once more. He stalked to the window, watching outcasts and poor families walk by. He could sate this impossible hunger, drain them all dry.

His fangs lowered at the thought, the storm in his eyes growing. He fantasized about leaving his sanctum, stalking through the Village and engaging with a frenzied dance of death with everyone he met.

He snarled, closing his eyes. No, he couldn’t. He could never do that. Do no harm, his permanent oath, even in this desperate, abject state. Not even when he was slowly starving to death.

Stephen slowly made his way downstairs, weakened by lack of blood. How long had it been? Weeks, he supposed. Over a month. The knocks on his door had finally stopped.

He was beginning to look like a ghoul. He wouldn’t last much longer. He was covered only by striped pyjama bottoms and a now oversized dressing gown.

“So much for the renowned Dr Stephen Strange,” he muttered bitterly as he stumbled into the parlour.

He went to the bar cart and poured a glass of port, wincing at its sweetness. He could taste every note on his tongue now, thanks to his affliction. It wouldn’t help, but perhaps he could manage to die in the warm haze of a drunken stupor.

He descended once more into the basement. This is where he held his hidden library, filled with esoterica and the forbidden. Stephen’s colleagues would have been horrified to discover that their prized surgeon was also an occultist.

He had fallen into this unusual hobby during his student days at Columbia. Most of the Ivies had secret societies, but none so secret as the Nocturne Society, or as they deemed themselves, the Midnight Sons.

Surrounded by the privileged sons of industry, he hid his rather humble beginnings as a poor farmer’s boy in the midwest. His brothers would have cast him out had they known. He reimagined himself as the son of a family made rich from oil, nouveau riche but still cultured enough to be acceptable.

With his eidetic memory, he became a natural at learning the black arts, though it remained theoretical rather than practical. His brothers were less scholarly, using the society for more decadent pleasures. Not that he wasn’t an enthusiastic participant himself.

Stephen smiled at the memories of his exploits as he moved through the dark. They were such glorious youth. But that was all so much dust.

He felt haunted. By his past, by a future ripped so cruelly from his grasp. He stumbled, holding himself up on the cold, brick wall as he released a shuddering sob. He could still feel their teeth and cold, firm grip on his limbs. Could still hear their hungry growls as they killed him slowly.

He still remembered how much he wanted it. Lying broken in the mud, unable to move, to save himself. The horror of his murder turned into a pleasure that burned through his veins. The air filled not with cries of pain, but moans of bliss.

He was turned by vampires, and he didn’t even fight. It filled him with revulsion. With shame.

He wouldn’t do that to anyone else. He wouldn’t strip them of the choice to say no, to die a natural death. He had to become human again, no matter what it took. He’d happily pay any price.

He moved into his hidden library, one of many hidden rooms in the basement. There were things here that couldn’t be found by anyone else. Things that could possibly destroy this reality if placed in less competent hands.

With a shaking hand he turned on the lights. The low amber light showed the map of silvery scars that decorated his hands and snaked across his limbs. Death hadn’t removed the trauma of that night from his skin.

Why did he have so much to drink? Why did he drive so quickly? A series of quick, foolish decisions had led him to this moment. This choice. He would never be able to back out.

“Is it worth it, Strange?” he muttered. “Damnation for the sake of your humanity?”

He raked his greying hair back, undoing the Brylcreem hold that kept it neat. His blue eyes were silver in the light. There were too many shadows in the room, many moving of their own accord. They followed him. He rubbed his beard as he searched his shelves.

“It must be here, I know that it must.” His low, deep voice filled the room. It gave him an odd sense of comfort. He was still here, still trying. It must mean something.

He smiled fleetingly as he saw it. The Grand Grimoire. The first occult book he’d ever purchased. Considered a book of the damned, or a fake depending on who you spoke to, it was a slender volume on summoning demons.

He had no other options. He would make a pact.

He chose the first name that didn’t seem connected to an awful or painful demise. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have read more carefully, or turned back from what was surely folly. But he was hungry and desperate.

He rolled up his rug from the expensive wooden floor. Moved his furniture out of the way. With an expression of grim determination, Stephen drew the complicated circle, adding the demonic sigils needed to reach Hell. He added the necessary protective measures around the circle and hoped that they would hold.

He lit five red tallow candles in quick succession, muttering the proper incantation. The bright flames turned black, moved by an unseen wind. The shadows around Stephen grew in anticipation.

Stephen shut his eyes and began his incantation from memory. His affinity for classical languages had finally served a purpose. His voice was clear and assured. The wind increased until he could feel it encircle him. It cut like daggers across his skin, chilling him to the bone. It knocked books from their perch, but the candles remained lit.

He knew it was a warning to turn back, to stop. But he was always so stubborn. He finished the final lines.

<<I call upon thee to enter this realm, o’ wicked Prince of Hell! Your most humble servant seeks thine unholy might to grant my desires! Thou art invoked! Appear Dark Prince, bring forth thy corruption!>>

Stephen walked up to the circle though the growing gale. He bit into his wrist and held it up to the inner circle. He walked carefully around the drawing, letting his blood fall. A moment later, the wound closed. He did it again and again, until there was enough.

He stepped back. The room had gone dark. He could feel the nothingness of his shadows around him, pulsating with the breaths he took only out of habit.

He waited.

The black flames shot up into the air, forming a roiling canopy above the circle. Stephen wondered if everything would catch alight, whether he would be consumed. He became filled with despair. Perhaps it was for the best.

The flame formed a vortex in the centre of the circle. He watched as his blood was pulled into the flame. He growled in pain as the heat filled his veins, as though he was close to the fire.

He held up his arms. Even in the dark, he could see his veins become more pronounced, the soft blue darkening to black. He was pulled against his will towards the circle.

He struggled, his vampiric strength proving no match. This had been a terrible mistake.

The pillar of flame ceased. The candles were bright and cheerful once more. A figure stepped out of the darkness. They were taller than any human, their curved horns scraping the ceiling.

They were slender, yet strong. Their skin was a chilled blue that became inky black on their sharply clawed fingers and feet. Their skin was covered in ridged markings. They were barely covered at all, hidden only by a silken loincloth. A dark tail thrashed dangerously.

Stephen stared up in horror at this immense figure, though a small part of him felt pride that he had done it. Curious, blood red eyes stared back at him, before they narrowed.

The figure moved towards him and Stephen stepped back. The figure moved out of the circle, treating his protective measures as nothing more than a small annoyance.

The demon picked him up, holding him up to their face. Stephen became numb with terror.

The demon was beautiful in a way that was thoroughly inhuman. Black waves curled softly around their angular face. Their dark horns resembled blackened bone, with smooth curves that Stephen wanted to touch.

He frowned. He didn’t want to touch this beast. This wasn’t him, wasn’t his feelings. He struggled against the demon’s hold.

“Let me go!” he cried out.

The demon looked on in amusement. What a strong human to resist their lure. No. Not human. A vampire. One that wasn’t doing too well for himself. A proud, handsome face made gaunt by hunger, his body frail. What a waste.

“Who dares call forth Loki, Prince of Lust and Wrath, heir to Asmodeus the Wise, Protector of the Palace of Depravity? Who dares risk such painful ruination?”

Loki’s voice was surprisingly soft and intimate, their words caressing his skin. But Stephen could see their teeth, large and sharp, waiting to slash and rend through fragile flesh. It filled him with dread.

“My name is Stephen Strange. Of, er, New York.”

“Why should I allow you to live, Stephen Strange of New York?”

Stephen’s eyes widened as he tried not to panic. The shadows crept closer, the whispers starting their discordant song again.

Loki tilted their head. Interesting.

“I summoned you, you can’t kill me!”

Loki laughed derisively, the sound rich and warm. They didn’t bother to disguise the menace underneath. Their grip tightened.

Stephen grunted in pain. He looked furiously at the demon, his face flickering. Loki watched as his eyes shifted and increased, before returning to pale blue.

“Release me.” His voice was a guttural growl. Wings and claws pushed against Loki’s palm. They dropped Stephen unceremoniously, a smirk on their full lips as he fell in an inelegant heap.

“You have my attention, little vampire. Tell me why you have summoned me?” Loki noted how his hand trembled as he tried to stand with some dignity.

Stephen pulled his robe closed and looked up at the demon, a fierceness still burning in his eyes. “Make me human again, and I will give you my soul.”

Loki roared with laughter, the sound echoing in the dark basement. Stephen couldn’t help the anguish that flickered across his face.

“Help you? Even if I could do such a thing, why in the Dark Lord’s name would I ever help such a miserable wretch? You hardly have any life left in you.”

Crimson eyes regarded Stephen coldly. “Besides. Vampires are soulless, the very idea would have me laughed out of Hell. You ask for my help while remaining ignorant of your own existence. I should kill you for wasting my time.”

Loki expected the strong wave of terror that normally followed such proclamations.

Stephen released a small breath. He balled his fists. Fury and despair wrapped around him as he marched up to Loki.

“You’re lying, demon. Of course I have my soul, I’m still me, damn you!” His voice was frantic. Of course he had it, he would know if he’d lost something as intrisic to him as his soul. Wouldn’t he?

Stephen pushed the thought away. He needed to solve this problem. The demon was right, he didn’t have much time left.

“You can help me regain my humanity. I know you can. Whatever deal you want me to make, I’ll do it. I’ll become your willing servant. I’ll do anything. Just-”

Stephen sank to the ground, exhaustion setting in his weakened limbs. “Please. I don’t want to die like this. But I can’t- I won’t hurt anyone.” His voice was hushed.

Loki could feel the truth of his words. What an absolutely odd creature. A vampire who went against their very nature? In a millennia of their existence they had never heard of such a thing. But as amusing as this diversion had been, this wasn’t their problem.

“No demon will be able to help you, Stephen Strange of New York. Any who say otherwise are only taking pleasure in your torment. Desist with such an unnatural quest and submit to your nature.”

Loki knelt down, putting a claw under Stephen’s chin. They smiled at the stubborness in Stephen’s guant face. Obnoxious tiny creature.

Again Stephen felt the sway of a lust that didn’t belong to him. Such strong magic. How powerful was this demon?

“Heed my words, little one. This is the only kindness I will grant you. If you summon me again, I will rip out your spine and feed your worthless corpse to the hellhounds.”

Loki dissppeared into a column of flame.

Stephen wished that he could still hyperventilate. Anything to release the heavy weight that had settled in his breast.

He looked around his treasured library, now in complete disarray. Books, tomes and artefacts were strewn on the floor, mocking his disastrous encounter. He stood and quickly began gathering everything in his arms.

He sagged into the strong walnut shelves, clutching the vestiges of his old life to his chest. Red clouded his eyes as he bowed his head and sobbed. Rough laughter surrounded him in the shadows.

All was lost.

The weeks passed. After a few more dead ends, Stephen stopped his attempts to regain his lost humanity. He stopped doing anything at all.

His bed became his world as he waited for the end. The shadows crept ever closer as the days melted into a continual twilight. He began to hope that death would make a swift entrance.

“My, you do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you, Strange of New York?”

Stephen sat up, his sunken eyes searching the dark for the mysterious voice. A stylishly dressed woman appeared in front of him. She was tall and slender, with an elegant, pretty face. Her dark hair was curled into a wavy pageboy that rested above her shoulders. Amused red eyes looked back at him.

Her low heeled shoes clacked against the floor as she walked to the window, obscured by velvet curtains. With a flourish she opened the curtains, allowing light to pour in.

Stephen shrank into the shadows. The light hurt his eyes. His entire body had begun to feel like an exposed nerve when touched by the light.

The woman whirled around, a pleased smile on her face. She pouted when she saw Stephen’s appearance.

“I told you to stop your quest for an unnecessary demise. And yet here you are, defying me.”

“Loki?” Stephen’s voice had degraded into a hoarse croak. Was he hallucinating?

“Of course. I was already in this pitiful realm, so I thought I’d observe your progress.” She looked around the room. “It’s even drearier than the last time. How utterly boring.”

Loki could feel his irritation. That was promising. There was still some life in him.

“Are you here to torment me before I die, fiend?”

“Hardly, you impertinent wretch.” Loki’s low voice was jovial.

“I have much better things to do, in fact. There is play that I simply must see, I hear that it is truly divine. Then I have an appointment with a dashing young actor. I will treat him to a wonderful night on the town before taking his soul. His poor mistreated wife begged me to make it painful, and I live to cause suffering.”

Stephen could barely follow Loki’s cheerful monologue. This was a massive shift from the last time he saw the demon. For one, she seemed almost human. And she was a she. His head felt as though it was full of cotton wool.

Loki interrupted his thoughts. “I am simply here to prevent you from looking even more like Max Shreck’s understudy.”

“What are you saying, demon?”

“Nosferatu, my dear boy, though I suppose that you weren’t in Berlin in 1922 to watch its premiere. It did terribly if I remember correctly.”

Stephen looked at her with growing confusion. She sat on the bed next to him. The shadows receded in respect.

“It is 1935, vampires no longer have to hide away and skulk in the shadows. Though a vampire is nothing when compared to the might and perfection of a demon, you are a powerful creature nonetheless.” She watched him thoughtfully.

Loki removed her tailored jacket, revealing the clean lines of her knitted dress. She placed it down gently beside her. She extended her arm. Stephen could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. It called out to him.

“I have decided to be a magnanimous prince and bestow you with the greatest gift- myself.” She grinned at Stephen. “Drink from me, little one.”

Stephen felt nothing but despair. “No. I can’t- I don’t want to harm you.”

Loki snorted inelegantly. “As though a mortal could ever hope to harm a god. Don’t be rude, I am providing you with a meal, on a silver platter as it were.”

Stephen moved closer, embarrassment heating his pale cheeks. “I, er. I’ve only done this once. And I was near delirious at the time.”

Loki looked at him in disbelief, bringing her hand to her breast. “Did the one who sired you not think to teach you properly? How scandalous!”

Stephen looked down. “It was a- a pack. I was in a car accident, completely defenseless. They fed on me, then turned me into this. I haven’t seen them again.”

Loki didn’t need demonic powers to feel Stephen’s bitterness. It made her pause. She sighed.

“Well, that is unfortunate. It is more instinct than technique, though that will come with time. I will make it easy for you.”

Long fingers transformed into dangerously sharp, black claws. Loki sliced into her arm without flinching. Blood the colour of midnight rose to the surface, marring her unblemished skin.

Her heartbeat grew louder in his ears, drowning out the restless chatter that constantly plagued his waking hours. Her blood sang to him. Stephen looked at it longingly.

“Do not keep me waiting, Strange. Very few have had the honour of tasting sacred blood.”

Stephen’s eyes lightened as his fangs extended. The monster in him rejoiced. But the doctor still wasn’t convinced.

“Why? Why show me such kindness? Why care about my life at all?”

Loki rolled her eyes. Her dark lips curved into a dark smile. “You offered me your servitude when we met, and I am in need of a new toy to break.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. Charming.

Loki continued airily. “Besides, I am a Prince of Hell. I would be amiss to not encourage more mayhem in this most debauched of metropolises. So do quit being such a wet blanket and drink before I heal completely.”

Stephen had an internal battle. Was it better to die with his principles, his humanity, intact? Or should he live as a monster, in servitude to a capricious demon?

The monster won out.

Loki hissed in pleasure as Stephen delicately tasted her, lapping her blood from her skin. He held her arm gently, afraid to hurt her. Loki’s blood ran thick and smooth down his throat. He looked at her with wide, startled eyes.

“Zounds.”

“How do I taste, Strange of New York?” Loki’s voice was a low purr. If he was less than complimentary, she would slit his throat.

Loki had performed many a depraved activity, some done that very morning, but she had never tried bloodplay. At least, not on herself.

He smiled slowly, it was oddly charming. “Like heaven.”

He wondered if this is how Persephone felt when eating the seeds that damned her to Hades. Each drop quenched a hunger that he didn’t know he had. She tasted like the sweetest summer memory, though the aftertaste was darkly rich, deeper than his finest wines.

He felt reborn. He was hooked.

Feeling more secure that the demon wasn’t playing some sort of trick, Stephen went further. His grip tightened, and his fangs roughly punctured soft flesh.

He moaned as blood poured freely into his hungry mouth. He would do anything to have this again. He would gladly be her plaything, her slave.

Loki watched as his intelligent eyes slowly became empty of all thoughts save one. A jolt of desire flashed through her when he growled as he feasted.

She hadn’t expected it to be so, well, intimate. Being a lust demon meant that sex was many things- pleasure, a chore, work, responsibility. But it was hardly ever an intimate act. That required vulnerability, and a prince could never be vulnerable.

She allowed herself to savour the quiet of the moment, the mixture of pleasure and pain as her body provided life.

Another first.

Loki let Stephen have his fill before stopping him with kind, yet firm words. “That is enough. If you drink any more of me, you will make yourself ill, little vampire. I must be savoured, not guzzled like cheap gin.”

Stephen’s cheeks were flushed. Dazed eyes looked at her with open disappointment. She laughed cruelly at his obvious desire for more.

“Already so needy, like a mindless beast. So easily you forgot your earlier pleas of redemption.”

Stephen flinched at her perceptive words. He looked down, unable to look at the face he knew mocked him. Loki feasted on the torrent of his emotion, the disgust and anger laced with shame. How perfectly exquisite. She had made a fine choice.

“Well, you will have to work for your future meals if you intend to maintain this foolish pretense of humanity.”

Stephen frowned at her, already regretting his decision. Why would he ever entrust his future to a succubus?

“And what do you want from me, demon?”

Loki leaned forward, her red eyes aflame. Her long, split tongue licked her blood off his lips. She smiled, revealing sharp teeth once more. Her husky voice was low.

“Oh Stephen, darling. You foolish thing. I want all of you. And I will have it.”

She vanished in flames that hurt Stephen’s overheated flesh. He fell back into his bed. This had been a terrible mistake.

But still he savoured the taste of her on his tongue as he laid there, humming Anything Goes. Damnation tasted ever so sweet.

He was growing hungry again. Loki’s blood only sated him for a week, and two had passed. He turned to books to keep him busy.

Perhaps he had gone about this all wrong. Perhaps there was a way to create a source of food that didn’t require him to feed. He’d begun to feel a dangerous spark of hope.

Stephen sat in his study, dragging his tongue across his fangs as he stared ahead, lost in thought. Could alchemical texts provide some illumination of a lost process, some idea he hadn’t considered?

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

A prickling feeling danced along his spine. He jumped up in alarm, wild magic dancing along his fingers.

Loki appeared, more demonic than in his last visit. His curved horns had reappeared, along with claws and tail. But he was dressed like a bohemian socialite, his hair and face still as artfully styled as any starlet.

“So alert, darling. Those vampiric senses are clearly improving. But oh my, you must be starving. Unless you have finally decided to give in and feast on some hapless human.”

In a moment Loki had pressed Stephen against a panelled wall. Stephen was overwhelmed by Loki’s scent, the memory of his blood gathering on his tongue. The demon smiled widely, his red eyes hooded.

“There is an orphanage nearby. No one will notice if a foundling or several disappear. You would be doing those poor waifs a favour-”

Stephen growled at him, rage coursing through him. His eyes became serpentine. “I told you no, damn you! I will not harm children!”

The very thought repulsed him. Especially because a darker voice urged him on, a voice which distressingly sounded like his own.

Loki laughed merrily. “Such beautiful anger, little one. The strength of your emotions is a gorgeous hors d'oeuvre. Please, protest more, your rage makes my cock hard.”

Stephen made a noise of disgust, roughly pushing Loki away. He left his study, still frustrated by Loki’s quips and his own intrusive thoughts. He marched downstairs, his dressing gown fluttering behind him. He needed a good, stiff drink.

“Is the poor dear too cross with me to feast? I thought that you enjoyed tasting me.” Stephen could hear Loki’s pout without looking.

He exhaled slowly before turning around. “Fine, demon. I wish for this visit to be short-lived.”

Loki smiled wryly. “How upsetting, I was hoping to enjoy your company for the remainder of this evening.”

Stephen’s face became stormy. “It will not take that long for me to feed, you fiend.”

“You are being unforgivably selfish, Stephen Strange.” Loki sauntered over to him. “What about my needs? You think that taking from a god comes without cost? Are you truly that arrogant?”

“I won’t harm anyone for you,” Stephen said quietly. “I don’t care what torments you unleash on me. I won’t do it.”

Loki growled in warning, the lights around them flickering and dimming. Stephen watched the theatrics with a raised brow.

“I’ve seen things in the darkness that were never meant for mortal eyes. Your tantrum doesn’t move me, demon. I find that having you in front of me has, in fact, suppressed my hunger. So please, feel free to return to the pit from whence you came.”

Stephen turned away, eyes narrowing. Where had he left his glass?

Loki was on him in a second, returned to his true form. He slammed Stephen onto the floor. The demon openly gloated at Stephen’s shock, his tail thrashing viciously.

“You contemptible whelp. Never forget that you live only because I allow it.” Loki’s hellish snarl rattled Stephen’s bones. “Perhaps I should show you how truly worthless your life is, little vampire. An eternity in my pit should quell that tongue of yours!”

Stephen looked up at him with eyes full of tumult. He could hear Loki’s heartbeat, the study thrum growing louder. Desire washed over him, only partly due to his hunger.

“I’m- I’m sorry.” His words were choked and hoarse. He hated himself at that moment.

Loki’s hold around Stephen’s neck eased only a fraction, his face beset with suspicion. He shrank to a more human size. “You are sorry?”

“I spoke out of turn. Regardless how I feel about you, you saved my life. Your act of mercy-” Stephen couldn’t help himself- “no matter how conniving, allowed me to live. So I’m in your debt. But once that debt is paid, I never want your presence to darken my door again.”

“That can be arranged, my dear.” Loki released him. He noted that Stephen took shuddering, unnecessary breaths.

They considered the other in the dim light.

The vampire reached up, tracing the curve of Loki’s neck. “I hope you know that I despise you. I regret ever allowing you into my home.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp. “You may lie to yourself, Strange, but you cannot lie to me. I have awakened something in you. Eventually, you will give in to your urges.”

Stephen pulled Loki close to him. He spoke softly in his ear. “I hope this hurts, you damnable creature.”

He roughly sank his teeth into Loki’s neck, holding the demon tightly. Once again he lost himself in the act. In his demonic form, Loki’s blood was more potent, more alluring. Stephen’s touch became almost loving as he swept the demon into an embrace.

Loki moaned with pleasure as he was used. He could feel Stephen’s anger wash away into pure animalistic need. Stephen’s body curved into Loki’s as the vampire grunted and sighed.

Loki’s smile was devious. Oh? This was unexpected.

Stephen’s tongue caught every wayward drop, refusing to let anything go to waste. His harsh words were washed away in a sea of all-consuming hunger. He wanted it all, he wanted, he wanted.

Loki sat up, grinning as Stephen grew exasperated. Loki looked with interest at Stephen’s dishevelled appearance. He no longer looked like a wraith, though his cheekbones remained pleasantly sharp. It would take more time and much more blood before Loki could discern how he truly appeared.

“Come here, demon.” Stephen’s voice was a low, commanding growl. His eyes were predatory.

Loki stood gracefully, his gaze imperious. “You forget your place, little one. It is I who own you.” His tail traced a path from Stephen’s neck to his cock, which twitched in response.

He used his magic to lift up Stephen. “Now, Strange of New York. I want you to return to that dreary study of yours. And I insist that you remove your clothes.”

Stephen couldn’t think in this state. “What? My study?”

“Yes. Now. I am going to fuck you until I am sated. You do not want to make me impatient.”

Stephen looked at Loki, aggrieved. “I will do no such thing!”

“You will, servant. I am a Prince of Lust. I require high levels of emotional energy to survive. Why waste my time with feeble humans when I can use you? I can be so much rougher with your body. Even if your mind breaks, your body will continue indefinitely.”

Stephen watched him guardedly. Loki did not bother to wear his mask of haughty amusement. Unlike Stephen, he was proudly a monster. Serious red eyes stared unblinkingly.

“I-” Stephen balked. It had been a long time since he had last been with anyone. A few drunken fumblings at cocktail parties, sure, but his line of work made bringing someone home too risky. Besides, he was always so busy, and he enjoyed the solitude.

He had assumed- what exactly? That becoming the undead had made sex an impossibility. He was barely more than a revived corpse. He’d refused to think about the deep feeling of loss that had settled in his heart.

Stephen shook his head. Why think of this now? He certainly did not want to fuck an incubus. It was ludicrous, an absurdity. Was he now expected to barter his body for sustenance like the boys outside his door?

But as repellant as he is, does the demon not also deserve survival? You owe him, and you said that you would do anything. He will not break you, Stephen thought. Well, he hoped. Uncertainty curdled in his stomach.

“Fine, you blackguard.” He slowly returned upstairs, trying not to think too hard about his circumstances. Or how he had trembled at Loki’s touch. That was demonic magic. That wasn’t him.

Loki smiled at the turbulence that poured from his upset little vampire. Such a delicious morsel. He wondered if the reason for the enhanced strength of Stephen’s emotions was connected to the darkness that shrouded his mangled soul, the wings, claws and unceasing chorus. It was all so intriguing.

He couldn’t wait to taste every inch of him.

“Why must you defile my study? I work here.” Stephen’s tipsiness was coming to an abrupt end and he wasn’t happy about it. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, glaring at the demon sitting in his chair.

Loki’s mouth thinned in annoyance. This repartee was becoming quite tedious. “As dashing as you look, I told you to remove your garments, Strange.”

“Answer me first, demon.”

Loki sighed as he stood up. He caged Stephen in, pinning him against the desk. The demon leaned in, until their mouths almost touched. He consumed Stephen’s growing panic.

“My dear boy.” A clawed hand reached out and lightly dragged a wayward strand of hair behind Stephen’s ear. Loki glanced down as he placed a hand on the vampire’s chest, tracing the tightly knit material of his sweater vest.

He spoke his next words quietly onto Stephen’s lips, his voice honeyed poison.

“Do not forget your place. And never make me wait. I abhor waiting.”

Stephen looked down in horror as Loki’s delicate tracings became encased in fire. His shirt and vest burned away, though his skin was unharmed.

“Must I continue with the remainder of your clothes, old thing? Or are you once again capable of following commands?”

Stephen glared at him, though he quickly removed his trousers and undergarments without further protestation.

Loki gave an appraising look at his latest conquest. The vampire was thin, but the bagginess of his clothing made it clear that he was normally more muscular. He was pleasingly hairy and well-formed, his arms and legs heavily scarred.

The darkness that lurked within him was nowhere to be found on his frame. Loki looked downward. He smiled, his red eyes filled with fiendish delight.

Stephen could deny it as much as he wanted, but his lust wrapped around him, as thick as incense. Loki removed his royal breechcloth.

Stephen swallowed, forgetting his own nervousness for a moment.

By the hoary hosts. It was indisputable that the incubus was beautiful. So Stephen thought it best to not say anything at all.

His cock twitched, and he was filled with an ache that made him worry that Loki had perhaps ignited him after all. He turned away, focussing on his books, his trusted sole companions.

“Do what you must, demon. I won’t-” he hesitated. “I won’t stop you.”

Loki chuckled. As if he could possibly stop him. His voice was a sultry drawl. “Look at me, darling. I know that you want me, that you need me. Kiss me, Stephen. Let me taste you.”

Stephen looked at him, his proud face contrasting with his uncertain eyes. Loki held him close, tilting his chin upward. Looking into his blue eyes, Loki smiled before kissing him.

It was a dance that Loki had done countless times, and Stephen allowed him to take the lead. Loki’s kiss was softly assured. There was no need to rush, he intended to relish the evening. He could feel Stephen letting go, as he knew he would. They always did.

Stephen’s touch was desperate, his mouth needy. His hunger only grew as he felt Loki’s hard length against his thigh. He stopped caring if this was Loki’s doing or his own. He was simply happy that he could still feel something. Even if it was with someone he detested.

Loki pulled away with a smile that Stephen found infuriating. The demon tilted his head. “So quickly I was able to silence your tongue, little one. You are not so different from the rest. Easily subdued.”

Stephen’s face shifted as he growled in anger, fangs gnashing as his eyes glowed. His wings expanded, dark and forbidding.

Loki’s laughter filled the room. “Such bluster! Oh, my pet, was that your attempt at striking fear in my heart!”

He turned away, throwing his hand theatrically onto his forehead. “Oh ho! I am struck numb with terror, Mr Strange! Your vampiric prowess is overpowering!”

Stephen’s face flushed. “It’s ‘Doctor’, actually. You irritating bastard.”

He reached out to once again push Loki away, but the demon held his hands fast.

“I grow tremendously bored with your sharp tongue, doctor. I can think of much better uses for that mouth of yours.”

Stephen felt himself being restrained by magic. His arms were firmly placed behind his back. A golden leash appeared around his neck. Loki pulled him to his knees.

“Perfect. You look rather fetching like this, darling.” Loki’s smile was cocky.

Stephen’s jaw began to hurt as he ground his teeth. “Fuck you, you fiend.”

He could see Loki’s amusement. The demon jerked him forward, taking him to Stephen’s favourite chair, his first purchase in his home. Loki sat down, legs spread wide. He wrapped the leash’s chain around clawed fingers. He looked down at Stephen, a sneer on his pouting lips.

“Come, good doctor. I require satisfaction. If you meet my standards, I may let you feed when I’m done.”

Stephen looked at Loki’s cock in dismay. Loki felt a sense of pride over Stephen’s worry, and the hard-on produced at the sight of him.

“Yes, it’s quite impressive. Will you be bested so easily, darling? I did not take you for a prude.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “Prude is not a word that’s ever been used to describe me, beast. But my adventurousness didn’t extend to supernatural carnalities.”

“Well, consider this the first of many lessons, doctor.”

Stephen didn’t have time to feel annoyed about Loki’s mocking use of his title. The demon pulled him forward by the hair, until his tip rested on Stephen’s lips.

“Open wide, darling.” His voice was dark with lust.

For the first time, Stephen simply obeyed. Loki’s cock felt hot and heavy on his tongue, and even with his mouth wide, he had trouble taking all of Loki’s girth. He cautiously took more of him until he fell into a rhythm.

“Such a good servant,” Loki moaned, his lids heavy. “That’s it, look at me while you suck my cock.”

Stephen withdrew, earning a warning hiss from Loki. He explored the demon’s cock with his tongue, refusing to give him full satisfaction. He teased him as though it was his life’s purpose, sucking on his tip enough to rile him up before stopping. His eyes burned with a deep hatred.

“Enough! Unless you want to starve for a few more months.” Only Loki was allowed to be a tease, it was his royal right and he excelled at it.

Stephen supposed he should just get on with it. He was only delaying the inevitable. Loki’s head fell back as Stephen deep-throated him, taking as much as he could. His eyes watered.

“Such a good boy. You look so handsome with your mouth stuffed.”

Stephen was just as surprised as Loki when he moaned softly. That was unexpected. And embarrassing.

Loki was every inch the debauched prince as he smiled at his conquest. His tail wrapped lazily around Stephen’s cock as he shoved the vampire’s head forward.

He gorged himself on Stephen’s pleasure and humiliation, it was a heady mix. Stephen repressed his gag reflex as the demon’s shaft reached the back of his throat. He was thankful in that moment that he no longer breathed. He refused to give Loki the satisfaction.

Drool pooled in Stephen’s mouth as Loki used him. He hadn’t realised that he’d begun to thrust into Loki’s tail, which tightened its coil only slightly. Loki mocked him with glazed eyes and a low drawl as his movements became more punishing.

“Such talents! Truly you were wasted as a doctor! Perhaps I will drag you to Hell and make you my whore.”

Stephen groaned, though it was unclear whether it was in arousal or frustration. It didn’t matter. A burning heat gathered in Loki’s loins. This had been a wonderful meal. This vampire would fuel him for years to come, if he didn’t drown in despair.

He held Stephen’s head close as he came down his throat in thick spurts. Loki smiled as Stephen moved away, sputtering and coughing as come dripped from his lips. He truly was handsome like this.

Stephen looked at the demon plaintively. His deep voice was rough. “You’ve had your jollies, Loki. Now I need to feed.”

Loki gazed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Hm. No, I think that you have yet to earn such a gift.” He pulled Stephen to his feet and kissed him roughly, delighting in their filthy intimacy.

“I told you, darling. You’re mine for the night, and I intend to spend that time well.” Loki lazily waved his hand, placing Stephen on top of his desk.

Stephen sat up, rubbing his now free hands. “A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he muttered.

Loki appeared on top of him. His dick was still painfully hard, glistening with spend and spit. The flames in his eyes burned merrily. He stroked Stephen’s shaft, his movements deliberately slow.

Stephen gasped, his eyes needy. Loki had his way with him, kissing a meandering path down the vampire’s body as his tail teased his cock. He played with him until Stephen’s head became a jumble of emotion.

Loki sighed in contentment as he feasted. He murmured a spell onto Stephen’s cool skin. Two dripping fingers entered Stephen slowly, preparing him for what was to come.

“Must you torment me, hellbeast?” Stephen managed to grunt.

Loki said nothing, placing his tail in Stephen's mouth to silence him. He uttered a lewd moan when Stephen bit his tail roughly. He loved a bit of pain, it gave such clarity to his pleasure.

“So forward, pet! Clearly you need more attention.” He stuffed his tail down Stephen’s throat as sharp teeth and long tongue teasingly dragged against skin.

Stephen’s groans were muffled. He felt as though he was engulfed in flame. Every sensation was stronger than the last. He was a natural sensualist, but this surpassed anything he had felt as a human. His back arched as he became overwhelmed.

Loki entered Stephen slowly, allowing him to feel every inch as he was stretched out. Stephen’s eyes rolled back as Loki fucked him for what felt like an eternity. Every time he attempted to jerk off, Loki stopped him with a sharp slap of his tail.

The demon wrapped a clawed hand around Stephen’s throat, both their faces rapturous. Loki debated whether he should break the vampire’s mind now or play with him for a bit longer.

“So pathetic and weak. All you needed was my sinful touch to become dumb and cockdrunk, little one. But your holes are the perfect vessels for my sacred spend.”

“By the hoary hosts, do you ever shut up, demon? Fuck me and stop talking!” Stephen grunted crossly.

He pulled Loki forward by his horns, kissing him into a stunned silence. Stephen put his anger into the act, the kiss becoming bloodied and dominating.

No one had ever touched Loki’s horns and survived. It was too intimate an act for unworthy mortal hands. And yet this frustrating whelp of a vampire had the audacity to stroke such a sensitive part of him, to nuzzle his neck so softly before piercing his flesh, to moan so deliciously as he had his fill.

To cry out Loki’s name with voice full of sex, blood and need. It was intolerable.

It was paradise.

If there was a point in the future where Stephen thought about when the monster merged with the man, this would be this night. Limbs tangled with a demon, being fucked ruthlessly as Loki came over and over again until he felt like he was being ripped apart.

His monster and the monster on top of him grunting and moaning as they desperately reached out for each other, leaving bites, bruises and bloodied marks in their wake. Taking their frustration and rage out on the other and knowing that they could without consequence.

His thoughts and those damnable voices quieted as he fed. The horror of what they were doing was so arousing that he came all over his chest and stomach. Feeling Loki’s spend leak out of him when the demon pulled out. Crying in ecstasy as the prince of lust slowly cleaned up every drop of seed with a hellish tongue.

It lasted all night. He let Loki do everything he wanted, lust winning out over dignity. But all good things must end, and drunken debauchery could only last for so long.

Stephen sobered. He quickly put his boxers back on as Loki magicked his previous outfit. Loki leaned against the desk, his smile full of mischief.

“See, darling? A deal with a devil can be so very pleasurable. And you survived the encounter.”

Pain passed across Stephen’s face. He was developing a headache. “Please leave me, Loki. We can’t do this again. I’ll find another way.”

Loki laughed gently. “No need to feel shame, little doctor. You gave into your urges, which is natural. And I will allow you yet another kindness, for I am well-fucked and well-fed. I will stop my visitations when you finally feed on a human.”

Stephen snarled, feeling suddenly impotent. “I can’t believe I let a demon touch me!”

“And you will again, Strange. You need me.” He kissed Stephen’s cheek.

“And to answer your earlier question, I used your study because in this modern age, men no longer worship gods. You worship productivity and industry.” Loki looked outraged at the thought.

“And you do work so very hard. So I always make it a habit to fuck you on your new altars, to remind you that you will happily throw away your modernity and new idols for a taste of my cock and cunt. Remember this, Stephen Strange, we are beasts all. Always. Give in.”

He licked a bruise forming on Stephen’s neck. It would disappear soon. “Goodnight, darling. I will see you quite soon.”

When Loki vanished, his cold laughter echoed harshly. Stephen looked at his desk, still covered in the result of their debauchery.

He clenched his jaw, ignoring the ache that still wound through him at the thought of the demon. He would find a solution. He was brilliant. It was just a matter of time.

1945

Loki’s visits continued. Weeks became months, which quickly became years. Stephen tirelessly tried new formulas and spells to find a humane alternative to his bloodlust.

On one brisk autumnal evening, Loki found Stephen in his secret lair, slouched defeatedly in an armchair. Stephen’s hatred of Loki had begun to burn less brightly. But the demon was still an irritant, using his home as a lodging house for longer and longer stays.

This room had bore witness to their dalliance, as had every other surface of the decaying Sanctum. When they wanted more of a thrill they moved into churches, parks and the thriving underground of supernatural nightclubs that existed around the Village.

Though he still refused to kill humans, Stephen had found other ways to sate his hunger. New York was filled with new erotic possibilities.

And despite his reluctance to admit it, Loki was a comfort. The demon was his saviour and the closest thing Stephen had to a friend. But he’d never say it aloud.

“Good evening, Stephen, darling. What has made you so cheery?”

Stephen looked forlornly at Loki. “It isn’t working.” There was no need for him to explain further. This had become his life’s work.

Loki’s eyes softened. She moved next to him, sitting demurely on the chair’s arm. She stroked his hair. “I told you that it wouldn’t, darling.”

“No, you don’t understand. The spell worked. I’ve created a substitute that quells my hunger and allows me to survive. But-”

Loki chuckled. “Your thirst remains?”

She understood that there could never be a true replacement. Stephen needed to hear the frantic beating of a heart, the first hot spurt of blood on his tongue, the soft moans of his conquest beneath him. He needed to feed that monstrous instinct.

Stephen looked defeated, the shadows around the room increasing. “It isn’t enough. There is no life in it, no bliss.”

Loki stood, her eyes darkening. “Say it, little vampire. Tell me what you want.”

He looked up at her haughty face, the shame long gone. He rubbed his scarred hands. “I need you. Loki, I crave you.” He only needed her blood, of course. Nothing more than that.

She smiled at his easy confession. They were building such trust. “Then, my dear, you shall have me.”

Stephen rose, holding her close to him. They stood near to where Loki had first emerged in shadow and flame. The space now held a bar cart and record player that Loki had purchased to keep him up to date on new music. She’d also attempted to buy him new clothing, but that was proving to be a much more difficult battle.

Stephen used his magic to turn on the record. Billie Holiday’s soulful voice emerged above a low warm crackle.

I’ll be seeing you, in all the familiar places…

Loki had been right, he adored her. She understood pain, it buried itself in each note and inflection. She was a fellow traveller in sorrow.

He gently placed an arm around Loki’s slender waist. She held his free hand as they danced slowly, Stephen’s steps unsure.

“I am afraid that you cannot include dancing as one of your formidable talents, my pet.”

His mouth quirked as he made a noncommittal noise. “I hope you know that I still detest you, fiend.” Even if she did look fetching in wide legged trousers and a button-down shirt that was scandalously unbuttoned.

Loki smiled at the fondness Stephen didn’t attempt to disguise in his voice. “You are becoming dreadfully sentimental. I cannot feed on sentiment.”

Stephen dipped her low, his smile wicked. “Then I will become deeply maudlin, just to watch you suffer.”

Loki’s laugh was soft. “Such a cad.”

Stephen spun her around, humming to the music. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, smiling at the steady pace of her heartbeat. He softly kissed her warm skin, rose pink moving across wintry blue.

He fed from her as they swayed to the music, Loki’s soft gasps lost under the swelling orchestra. His grip tightened as his bright eyes stared ahead, unseeing. The demon could feel his hardened length rub against her.

It has been years since she last used demonic magic to enhance his arousal. Now, he simply desired her.

Stephen’s tongue licked the length of her long neck, the heaviness of his desire sending a path of heat down her core.

She whimpered his name, her cheeks aflame. He hadn’t been the only one to change over the ensuing years. Loki’s cruelty had mellowed. She still enjoyed tormenting him, loving how easily he became riled up, and how roughly he claimed her.

But he was no longer her reluctant servant, but something approaching a- she wasn’t quite sure. She’d never in all her years fucked a mortal and allowed them to live, much less formed a long-term arrangement. She found it all terribly thrilling.

Especially when he took control, which now happened regularly. Loki was startled the first time Stephen had claimed her fully, a few years after they’d met. He’d been having awful luck with a series of complicated spellwork. Unused to not excelling instantly, he was a bundle of nervous energy by the time Loki had begun teasing him.

It took the incubus by surprise when he was shoved onto Stephen’s bed, his fine clothes ripped off and Stephen’s anger, frustration and desire to control raging through him. His kiss demanded submission, his touch sought out aching moans and soft cries.

With none of Loki’s brattiness, he firmly dismantled the demon with quietly commanding words and expert touch, ever the doctor. He was obsessive and relentless. Loki emerged a changed demon. As much as she loved the taste of Stephen’s sorrow, his confidence was a heady flavour that made the demon’s mouth water.

Stephen sighed, content with his fill. He moved away from Loki, turning off the record player. Loki tried not to think about the fact that the ghost of his touch still remained on her skin.

He poured two glasses of sherry and looked around the room. Much had changed in ten years, so much was changing. He moved back towards Loki, placing an arm unthinkingly around her waist. He passed her a glass.

“Shall we go upstairs and celebrate the last night of the Sanctum as a Strange residence?”

Disturbed by his sanctum’s gradual decline, Stephen took matters into his own hands. Posing as a distant family member, he drafted a false long-lost will bequeathing his home to the historic trust and delivered it to them. He hoped that they would be able to preserve what he could not.

Tomorrow would be the first of many official visits to explore and categorise the mysterious mansion. To make it public property. But that meant withdrawing to the confines of the basement and its hidden depths, away from prying eyes. Away from the opulence to which he had grown accustomed.

He still remembered his joy when purchasing it. From farm boy to big city surgeon, even though a respected doctor buying a property in the bohemian Greenwich Village was seen as scandalous. But that was all in the past. That Stephen Strange was well and truly dead. He had to move on.

“I can taste your sadness, my dear. Are you quite alright?” Loki spoke with a careful softness, unused to feeling concern.

Stephen looked at her, startled. Not due to her insight- that was expected- but for the gentle care in her voice. When had the prince of lust ever cared whether he was sad or not?

“I’m fine, Loki,” he reassured her. “Just reminiscing. Let’s sit outside, it’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the garden.”

Loki tilted her head, watching him closely. “After you, darling.”

The duo moved upstairs, lost in their own thoughts. They made a path towards the spacious living room. Stephen flung open the large french doors, the stained glass windows sparkling in the bright moonlight.

He shut his eyes, smiling as the cool air danced on his face. Such small moments always calmed his restless mind. Loki glided past him, towards a small bench surrounded by pale ivy. He watched as she sat down, her movements graceful.

Stephen looked out at the city, the moon shining off the towers of chrome and glass in the distance. New York never hesitated in its forward momentum, never considered whether it should remain in the past. It simply continued hurtling toward an uncertain future. Perhaps he should as well. Better to be an incautious traveller than a forgotten remnant.

He sat on the bench next to Loki. He leaned against her shoulder, trying not to think about the meaning behind his action. They didn’t speak, choosing instead to listen to the nocturnal songs of the city. He closed his eyes once more, listening to her heartbeat.

Loki put an arm around Stephen’s shoulder, the movement hesitant. He nestled more closely, drawing his smoking jacket closed. He opened his eyes, not looking at the demon who had barged so rudely into his life.

He sighed. “I’m never going to get you out of my house, am I?” His voice was hushed. He tried and failed to hide the tenderness that coated every word.

“Of course not, my dear. You would perish from hunger and boredom without me to amuse you. Even now, I can feel how you ache for me. And it is no longer your house.” Loki didn’t dare to look at him.

Stephen responded with a snort, but it didn’t stop him from slowly turning Loki’s head towards him. His wry smile gave way to something more gentle. He shook his head.

“You are entirely too frustrating, demon.” He stroked her cheek with a scarred thumb. The soft gesture bordered on tender.

Loki grinned, taking his hand and kissing his palm. Her lips moved to his wrist, her touch playful and feather-light. She looked at Stephen from under long lashes. The demon moved closer to the vampire, her red eyes eager and hopeful.

When they kissed, it was filled with a rawness that slowly transformed into affection. They held each other tightly, afraid that things would return to normal if they let go.

Stephen laid Loki onto the bench, his gaze filled with wonder and an emotion Loki couldn’t quite understand. He kissed her again, erasing her questions.

They remained in the garden for the rest of the evening, enjoying the comfort of each other’s touch. Occasionally they stopped to laugh softly at their ardour. They were becoming something new, together. If the city had any thoughts on this, it kept them to itself.

The sounds of their pleasurable discoveries joined the urban chorus that surrounded them, creating for the briefest of moments, the sweetest song of the night.

Series Masterlist.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be removed):

@violettevictrix @late-to-the-party-81 @silver-tongued-bby @saccharinekisses @wickedmuse @geeky-politics-46 @boop-le-snoot @fa-me

#lrbb2022 #ship: loki x stephen strange

23 notes · View notes

lokirarepairbigbang · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Roommate!Valkyrie x Roommate!Loki

Word Count: 6,743 words

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Minors, ageless, blank, & non-updated blogs will be blocked immediately.

Plot: Loki and Brunnhilde are flatmates, sparring partners and best friends (with benefits). When they have unexpected guests one morning, it brings up painful reminders of Loki’s past that they would rather keep hidden.

Warning: For 18+ readers, hurt/comfort which contains swearing, continual misgendering (which may be triggering), parental neglect and controlling behaviour, discussions of character trauma, depictions of anxiety and depression, family conflict, and a brief sexual scene (mostly very heavy petting). Please heed the warnings and possible triggers.

Notes: Part of the @lokirarepairbigbang! This challenge is a very exciting writer-artist collaboration, and I'm very excited to have gorgeous artwork by the wonderful @yavannie! Make sure to visit her blog! It was beta-read by the lovely @nagisaunicorn-blog (thank you!)

Part of the Disaster Flatmate AU series. Loki is genderfluid and uses they/them.

Chapter Music:

“Hey dickhead, I’m back! I picked up more of that sourdough bread you like, and a new cafetiere and some fancy coffee.” Brunnhilde struggled as she opened the door, her hands filled with large canvas bags. Why did she always have to overbuy?

Their other flammate had left to go on a family holiday, leaving them alone for a few days. Brunnhilde and Loki did what they always did, fluctuating between closeness and quarrelling, usually at the same time.

Things had changed with another person sharing their space, but the dynamic remained. It suited them, it was a comfort of sorts, even if it confused everyone else.

She pushed the door open further with her hip, swearing as a bag slowly slid from her fingers. “A little help here would be lovely- oh.”

Two unrecognisable figures sat with Loki at the large dining table. They looked at Brunnhilde as she carefully put down the bags. She took off her oversized sunglasses and placed them in her pocket.

One was an older man who seemed imposing even while seated. He made their secondhand chair look like a throne. A quick glance showed that he took great care in his appearance. His clothes were understated, but clearly expensive.

His silver hair and beard were neatly trimmed, revealing a handsome, craggy face. He stared at Brunnhilde coldly with one stormy grey eye. His other eye was covered with a black eyepatch.

He seemed strangely familiar, though Brunnhilde couldn’t place him.

The other figure was a massive blonde man who seemed slightly older than them. Piercing blue eyes watched her guardedly. He gave her a fleeting, hesitant smile. He seemed more casual than the older man, in both dress and demeanour. His sun-bleached hair was messily tied in a bun.

“Er, hello. Sorry, didn’t realise we were expecting company, would’ve swore a bit less just then.” Brunnhilde looked at Loki questioningly. They barely met her gaze.

She frowned. They were hunched over and looked miserable, which was very much unlike them. Even when they were in the midst of a low day, they stood with their head held irritatingly high, an impish, knowing smile always threatening to appear on their lips.

“Brunn, this is-” Loki began quietly, before being cut off.

“I am the landlord. I suppose that you are Loki’s girlfriend.” His accented voice was deep, commanding. Possibly Scandinavian? Clearly someone used to being obeyed. Unfortunately for him, Brunnhilde had issues with authority figures.

Brunnhilde’s frown deepened. He had no right to ask that. Her voice was chilled. “We’re friends and flatmates, I’m one of your tenants. Is there a reason why you’re here, Mr-” she waited for him to tell her his name.

The flat was amazing, but everything surrounding it had always been hazy. Loki dealt with the landlord, they had been the one to secure the immensely cheap rent. They’d both been struggling so much to make ends meet a few years ago, it had been a miracle.

Things had been so wonderful that Brunnhilde never bothered to think too hard about it.

She realised belatedly that she should have asked more questions. What had Loki been hiding from her? She looked sadly at her friend. Oh, Lo. What have you done?

“Brunnie, this is my father, Odin Borson. He owns this building. And this is my brother, Thor Odinson. Father, Brother, this is my dearest friend, Brunnhilde Cooper.” Their tone was formal, their voice becoming even more clipped. Loki only did that when they were nervous.

Brunnhilde looked at them with wide, surprised eyes. She’d never met their family in over a decade’s worth of friendship. The Odinsons had existed on the periphery of their lives, their absence a current that constantly threatened to drag Loki down.

She didn’t know much about them other than the basics. Loki was naturally secretive and didn’t like speaking about their childhood. She knew that Odin was cold and distant, even more so after Loki’s beloved mother Frigga died. He had a global business empire, which Brunnhilde now knew was Borson & Co Properties. Thor, the middle child, was the heir to the real estate throne.

Loki never spoke about their older sister Hela. Whatever happened, it hadn’t been pretty and they hadn’t recovered. Loki was the next black sheep, too feminine and tumultuous for their father to abide by. Too much like their bohemian mother.

When Frigga was buried, Odin quickly shipped them off to boarding school, away from Norway, their friends, and everything that they had ever known. They were thirteen and completely alone. They later found out that they were adopted, their real family lost to time. Brunnhilde still remembered the day when Loki told her.

The pair sat on Loki’s small bed in their residence hall. It was a bank holiday, but they had nowhere to go. Loki rested their head on Brunnhilde’s lap as she checked her phone aimlessly. Loki wrung their hands, looking forlornly at their wall full of models and band posters.

“Father probably wanted a spare in case Thor couldn’t handle the pressure. That’s all I ever was to them, insurance that the family business would continue.” They shut their kohl-rimmed eyes, trying not to cry.

“Aw, Lo, that can’t be true.You told me how close you and your mum were. She loved you, she wanted you.” Brunnhilde spoke firmly as she stroked their hair.

Loki wiped away angry tears as Brunnhilde put down her phone, looking down at them worriedly. She laid down next to Loki, hugging them tightly.

“I don’t even know where I came from. Father said that I was possibly originally from Iceland, but I could be from anywhere. I have no past, no history. I can’t believe Thor never told me.” Their voice was barely above a whisper.

“Your dad’s a wanker, Lo. And your brother probably can’t remember. He cares about you, he’s just under a lot of pressure. Besides,” she kissed their forehead, “you’ve got me, idiot. You’re my best mate, and you’re stuck with me.”

Loki rolled their eyes, a cheeky smile growing on their lips. “Lovely, fantastic. As though my life wasn’t difficult enough.”

Brunnhilde pinched their arm. “You’re such a prick, little prince!” She knew how much Loki hated the nickname.

“Ow! You’re such a brute! I don’t deserve such cruelties!” Loki rubbed their arm.

Brunnhilde rubbed her nose against Loki’s before kissing them sweetly. “I’ll always be there for you, Lolo. Love you, mate.”

Loki smiled gently at her, taking her hand and tracing squiggles in her palm. “Love you too, Brunnie.”

Loki hadn’t seen them since they’d started uni. They had rejected their family fortune, trying to survive on their own terms. Or so she’d thought.

Brunnhilde knew that above all else, she hated Odin Borson. Hated him for casting out his child at such a vulnerable moment. Hated him for creating a wound in her best friend that she couldn’t heal, no matter how hard she tried.

Loki jumped up from their chair, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m truly sorry, my dear. Where are my manners? Please, let me help you.”

They joined Brunnhilde in the kitchen. She couldn’t help but see Odin’s displeasure at Loki’s outfit, an oversized cardigan over a slinky maxi dress. Their dark hair was in milkmaid braids, a few tendrils framing their pale face. They clearly hadn’t expected company.

Brunnhilde was also dressed casually in a pair of holey, baggy dungarees and a crop top with the name of her local rugby team, the Walthamstow Valkyries. A tattooed hand reached up and nervously smoothed back her curly hair, tied in a messy ponytail.

“Er, uh. Didn’t realise you were in town.” Her voice was unsure. She didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t be full of vitriol.

Loki busied themselves with unloading the bags. Brunnhilde placed a supportive hand on their shoulder, which was gracefully shrugged off. She tried not to feel hurt at the rejection.

Loki flinched at her pained expression. They never wanted to hurt her. But they felt a cord of dread around their throat that choked them. All contact made their skin ache.

Brunnhilde turned back to Loki’s family, trying to be nice for her friend’s sake. She would make it work, and hoped that they would leave sooner rather than later.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, I always wanted to meet Lo’s family.” Her voice was syrupy sweet as she told a necessary lie. “So are you here for business or pleasure? If you’re staying for a while I can make us a brunch.”

Thor smiled softly at her effort. “Thank you for the offer, Brunnhilde. But that is not necessary, this will be a short visit. We just wanted to see how Loki was doing.”

Brunnhilde gave a small shrug, the minimal gesture clearly saying suit yourself. She caught Loki’s scowl and too bright eyes as she turned. They were trying not to cry. Her heart sank.

“You alright, Lo? Want me to fuck off?” she whispered.

“Please stay,” they responded, glancing at her. Their palms were sore, turning an angry red from the constant scraping of their trimmed nails against soft skin.

Loki hurriedly placed the last of the groceries away as Brunnhilde opened the fridge. She took out a protein shake, she had practice later and needed an extra boost.

Odin leaned back in his chair, frowning as it squeaked. He looked around the spacious, brightly-lit room with barely disguised loathing. It was filled with secondhand furniture and political, risque artwork. Hardly befitting an Odinson.

“It seems that my youngest son isn’t doing as well as hoped. I hoped that sending you to Harrow and St Andrews would have transformed you into a respectable young man, but it seems that you insist on living like an eccentric itinerant, even when provided with luxurious surroundings.”

Brunnhilde choked on her drink. Loki scoffed, resting against the counter. “Wonderful. I see that we’ve skipped the false niceties this time.”

Thor hid his smile behind a large, calloused hand.

Brunnhilde crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, Mr Borson, but Loki is an amazing writer, and their bookshop is practically a local landmark. I’m an engineer and our other flatmate is a teacher. We’re all doing well, whether or not you like our design choices.”

She almost added that most of their furniture was lovingly picked at vintage fairs, but she let it slide. Loki smiled at her gratefully.

“Why are you here, Father? It can’t simply be to critique my appearance and possessions, though I know both are favoured pastimes. Despite Thor’s words, I know you aren’t here solely for the pleasure of my company.” There was venom in Loki’s studiedly bored drawl.

“Truly brother, it’s been a long time since we last spoke. I thought that we might catch up while we’re here. I would like to see your shop.” Thor’s face was earnest.

Loki looked at him sadly. He looked so much like Freya in that moment, so open, so loving. It pained Loki that while they had their mother’s tics, her joie de vivre, Thor would always carry her memory on his body. There was still a closeness that not even death could separate.

They put their head down, shutting their eyes. Despite everything, Loki still loved their older brother more than anything. They wanted to believe him. They missed him.

“And you, Father? Do you share Thor’s wish for a tender family reunion? Shall we sit and weep with joy at each other’s good fortune?” Loki watched as Odin frowned at their jibe. Their family died when Freya did. They were now just branches on the same rotting tree.

For most, Loki always waited for the lie to come, for an untruth to tip carelessly from their lips. They had an uncanny knack for knowing when someone was lying to them. There was always a tell. Not with Odin, though, never with him.

His lies were so much worse, because he saw them as truth. And he used truth to bludgeon everyone into submission.

“I tire of your sharp tongue, Loki. I have given you everything and still you remain ungrateful!” Odin looked at them with barely contained indignation. “Without this family you’d be some poor wretch in some godforsaken hinterland!”

Loki flinched, their eyes widening. Brunnhilde moved closer to them, her stance protective. Loki clutched their dress, a few tears falling on their flushed face. Thor protested at his father’s words, his face dismayed. This wasn’t what he wanted.

Loki did a low, sweeping bow. “Thank you, Father, for a life of wealth and privilege. Truly. Thank you for stripping me of my family, life and culture, and making it so that my mother tongue sounds strange on my lips. I am so terribly, terribly grateful.” Their low voice shook with anger.

“Must we listen to this lament again? It grows more tiresome with each retelling.” Odin’s voice was weary, his face turning away from his youngest child.

“My therapist thinks it best that I express my feelings,” Loki snapped, angrily wiping their tears away. They hated allowing Odin to see that he got to them. They hated revealing any emotion other than contempt.

Brunnhilde looked at Loki with concern. How often did this happen? How had all of this been kept from her? Why was this kept from her?

Odin leaned forward, his eye as hard as flint. “We’re here because I want my wayward son to help lead our expanding London office. Thor is moving here permanently and will need assistance. It is time for you to claim your birthright and stop these childish fantasies.”

“They aren’t fantasies! I am already running a business, I will not throw my life away for your empire! Hire some young upstart who dreams of gentrification en masse. I won’t do it.”

“Father, this isn’t what we-” Thor straightened his broad shoulders as Odin interrupted him, his protestation dying on his lips.

“I do not need your input, Thor! Still your tongue!”

Loki’s laugh was brittle. “Ah yes, is this to be our lives, constantly silenced by you until we simply give up?”

“You knew the agreement when I allowed you to live in this building at such a cheap rate. You knew that you would have to work for me.”

“Lo, what the actual fuck!” Brunnhilde exclaimed. Loki looked back at her, chagrined. They shrugged their shoulders.

“I thought that I’d be asked to do something distasteful like act as the manager for this building. Not walk away from everything I’ve built.”

Brunnhilde shook her head despairingly. You absolute idiot.

Odin guffawed. “Built? You’ve built nothing! I am offering you a legacy, a chance to make a name for yourself and you’re willing to throw it away for some paltry shop? I will not have my son-”

Loki’s temper frayed. They had had enough. “I am not your son, not in any sense of the word! Stop misgendering me in my own home! It is not simply some shop, it’s my dream. And I have created a legacy, on my terms. Mother understood these things, she would be proud of me.”

Their voice wavered and cracked as they looked down at the kitchen’s tiled floor. “I know she would.”

Thor leaned back, his face saddened. “Of course she would be proud, br- sibling. I’m- I’m proud of you.” He was met with Loki’s hesitant, watery smile.

A door slammed in the hallway. Brunnhilde could hear a child's delighted laugh. A train rumbled in the background. The air was thick with tension. It was unbearable.

“Frigga made you much too soft. She encouraged this weakness in your character.” Odin stood and paced as Thor watched on darkly.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Brunnhilde stepped forward, clasping Loki’s hand. This time, they let her. “Look, I don’t know the specifics of what you and Lo agreed to, but I’m sure something can be arranged that’s a bit more amenable to everyone’s busy schedules and actual lives.”

Years of coaching had allowed Brunnhilde to hone a commanding yet diplomatic tone. This needed to be deescalated quickly.

“Your presence is not needed here, Ms Cooper. This is a family matter, and you are not his family.” Odin barely spared her a glance, his voice sharp.

Brunnhilde grimaced, letting go of Loki’s hand. Her dark eyes narrowed as her fingers curled into fists. “What did you just say to me?”

Loki and Brunnhilde had met during Freshers Week at university and quickly became inseparable. It was an unlikely friendship on the surface, the posh intellectual and the working class jock. But it worked.

They supported each other through every twist and turn. When Loki came out as genderfluid, Brunnhilde was there to listen and take them to support groups to ensure they weren’t alone in their journey.

When Brunnhilde struggled to fit into the hallowed halls of their prestigious university, Loki was there to make her feel deserving. When relationships failed and life became hard, teary nights were spent in each other’s arms and beds.

Her rambunctious family had accepted Loki without question, not caring about their past. To them Loki was an honorary Cooper, worthy of their love and support. Loki never said it, but this outpouring of kindness had saved their life.

Loki winced. They didn’t want their best friend to suffer their father’s cold dismissiveness. Not on their behalf.

“It’s okay, Brunnie,” they said softly. They rubbed her arm before moving towards their father, their movements quiet in socked feet. They stood proudly in front of him, smoothing their loosening braids.

They could see every hard-won line in his face. So often they’d tried to get that face to soften in recognition of their accomplishments, in some approximation of love. So often they’d failed.

“That’s where you are sorely mistaken, Father. She is my family. Brunnhilde has always been there for me, including every instance that you chose to pretend that I didn’t exist. I will not allow you to speak so rudely to her.” Loki’s voice was firm, their honeyed cadence hardened in defiance.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Odin said softly. Loki looked relieved. Maybe their father was mellowing somewhat in his old age. Odin continued.

“Perhaps you aren’t my child. So easily do you place others above your own family, so easily do you ignore our legacy, our lineage. You are such a disappointment, Loki. Perhaps it would be best if we part ways.”

Loki let out a wounded cry as they staggered back, eyes wide. Such easy rejection. So quickly were they cast out. Did Odin truly care so little?

Thor looked at his sibling’s stricken expression and jumped up, knocking his chair over. He rushed to Loki’s side, as did Brunnhilde.

“That’s enough, Father. Some words cannot be unsaid. I think it best that this conversation ends now.” Thor’s cheerful visage had become grave. Startling eyes the colour of a clear winter’s day, his mother’s eyes, looked at Odin in harsh judgement.

Odin couldn’t bear it. He looked away.

“You’re a fucking terrible dad. You don’t fucking deserve them, you know that? And Loki doesn’t need you, they have people who actually care about them. Get the fuck out! Now!” Brunnhilde’s face was a mask of rage, her voice seething. She resisted the urge to throw something at Odin’s head.

Loki hid their face as Thor hugged them tightly, just like he used to do when they were small. He was their big brother, their protector. And yet he hadn’t fulfilled that role in a very long time. Too long.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” he murmured, rubbing their back in soothing circles. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry that you felt alone. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Loki whispered.

Odin walked to the door, refusing to look at his children. “Come along Thor, we have meetings to attend and they cannot be delayed for petty squabbles.”

He paused. “You should both begin looking for new residences,” he said coolly. And with that, Odin opened the door and left.

“What a fucking prick,” Brunnhilde exclaimed, tugging her hair in frustration.

“Dear old Father, never a care about the devastation he leaves in his wake,” Loki muttered,their voice wobbling. They moved away from Thor, picking up the felled chair and sitting heavily. They felt lightheaded, their limbs filled with a strange electricity.

Loki laughed, a breathless sound tinged with hysteria. “I guess this means that you are now an only child, brother.”

“Don’t say that!” Thor snapped. “I won’t have him do this to our family, not again. I’ll speak to him. I never realised-” He looked down, filled with shame. “I hadn’t realised that he still treated you so poorly, sibling. Why did you not reach out to me? We could have devised a plan. I could have done something to help.”

“Why did you not contact me?” Loki asked frostily. “You weren’t interested in being anything other than Odin’s golden child, the one proper heir. I don’t need your pity now.”

Brunnhilde leaned against Loki’s chair and draped her arm over their shoulder. She looked at Thor sadly. This family was a fucking shambles.

“I’ve made mistakes and I want to right them. I’ll speak to Father. I will ensure you stay in your home, even if I have to purchase it myself.” His face was filled with purpose. Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. Unbelievable. Fucking rich people.

“And you will always be my sibling, Loki. No matter what happens. I want to be a part of your life again- that is, if you want me to.” Thor looked hopefully at Loki.

Loki considered their brother for a moment. They gave a dramatic sigh. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Though do try not to look at me with such oafish eagerness, brother. It turns my stomach.”

There was no venom in their words. Brunnhilde slapped their shoulder anyway.

“Ow, Brunnie! Save your violence for rugby!” Loki looked up at her with sad doe eyes.

Thor couldn’t help the deep chuckle that rose from his throat. He looked fondly at his sibling. “Thank you for taking care of them, Brunnhilde. I’m glad that Loki has someone who cares about them.”

Brunnhilde’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh, don’t be so fucking soft, Odinson. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Thor grinned. “Let me depart before I embarrass myself further.”

Loki stood and walked Thor to the door. They scratched their palm, looking down at the floor. “There’s a cafe nearby that serves an adequate lunch, if you would like to visit one day.” Their voice was soft, hesitation causing their words to tumble into nothingness.

Thor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled brightly. He gathered Loki into a tight hug. “Yes, of course.”

Loki allowed themself to be crushed for a long moment before extracting themself. “Mustn't keep Odin waiting too long, brother, he is quickly running out of children to disinherit.”

Thor’s smile fell as his face sobered. He gave Loki a firm slap on the arm and waved to Brunnhilde before rushing out.

Loki and Brunnhilde stood in silence for a moment, the afternoon’s events washing over them. They might possibly be homeless soon. What would they tell their flatmate?

Brunnhilde laid down on the sofa. “Fuck!” she screamed, breaking the quiet.

She waited for her outburst to bring relief, but it made her feel worse. She really wished that she still drank.

Loki soon joined her and they shuffled around the sofa until their limbs were tangled together. Loki rested their head on Brunnhilde’s chest, their braids finally loosened completely. They didn’t speak.

Brunnhilde’s arms slowly made their way around her friend, holding them close. She distractedly stroked Loki’s hair, staring upwards at the ceiling.

Loki could feel their heart racing. They counted each stroke silently, trying to match their breathing to Brunnhilde’s gentle touch. They desperately wanted to control themself, to make a sly joke that would remove the weight that threatened to crush their heart.

But they simply couldn’t. The pain ripped through their veins, trampled on their lungs, and all they could do was expel it as quickly as possible to maintain their sanity. Loki sobbed brokenly, their body shaking with each gasping breath.

Brunnhilde held them tightly, rubbing their back. “S’okay, Lo, I’m here. Let it out. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” She murmured soothing words until they were spent, their tears wet on their too-hot skin as they struggled for sobbing breaths.

“W-w-why does he hate me?” Loki hiccuped. Brunnhilde wiped away her own tears, hot and angry. She hated how fragile they sounded. No wonder Loki never talked about their family.

“I don’t think he does, honey. From what I just saw, he’s selfish and wants the perfect legacy, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Loki asked, their green eyes now scratchy and red.

Brunnhilde hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. But Thor seemed kinda nice.” Dim, but nice, she thought. “Do you really want to meet up with him?” I don’t want you to get hurt again, she bit back.

“There was a time when Thor and I- when we were inseparable. I was forever getting him into trouble, and he was always getting me out of it.”

Brunnhilde snorted. “I fucking bet.”

“I’m not sure I can forgive him for not fighting for me more. I know it’s foolish, he was only eighteen when I left, still a child himself. And I’m sure it was difficult seeing how disposable we all were to Odin. But still-” Loki stopped talking.

The rage and betrayal still burned bright with them. When Loki was first sent away, they waited patiently for Thor. Waited for him to write, to call, anything. They needed their big brother again, needed to come home. But they were met with silence until they gave up.

“I want to know why he stopped talking to me, why Father’s legacy was more important than being there for me. I want-” They took a deep, shuddering breath. “I want him to know how much I missed him. How much I still miss him.”

They threw an arm over their face.”It’s so pathetic. I am thirty and still I pine for my idiotic family.”

Brunnhilde shushed them as she wiped away their tears. “It’s not stupid. I don’t know what I’d do without my sisters, especially when I was younger. I idolised them. And you’ve dealt with a lot, idiot. You can be sad. Spoiled brat or not, you deserved better than that wankstain of a dad.”

She chose her next words carefully. “Thor said he wouldn’t let it happen again. Is that- is that what happened to your sister?”

Loki curled into Brunnhilde’s body. They let her scent envelope them, the warm spice of her perfume, her mango hair oil as comforting as a blanket.

“When I was young, Hela was a force of nature. Wildly intelligent and ambitious. She was ten years older than me, the product of my father’s first marriage. Strangely, we looked alike, dark hair and intense eyes. Everyone thought so.”

Loki had a dreamy expression on their face as they spoke. “She had no reason to accept me as her brother. But she did. She doted on me, and I loved her. She was almost my second mother.”

Brunnhilde smiled at the thought of baby Loki and their big sister.

“She was Odin’s daughter, through and through. The true heir to the Empire. But she wanted more than what he could give. She wanted to conquer the world in her own way. It infuriated Father. So after one bitter argument, he threw her out. I saw it, hidden away on the stairs. Thor and Mother fought to change his mind, but-”

They scoffed. “Well. You saw. He cast her out then and there. She wasn’t allowed to say goodbye. She wasn’t allowed to take anything with her. To Odin, he no longer had a daughter.”

Brunnhilde drew a sharp intake of breath.

“Mother managed to help her a little. Gave her enough money to get on her feet, rescued her most treasured possessions. She was twenty, still at university. I never saw her again. I tried to locate her years later, but she’d disappeared.”

“Christ,” Brunnhilde whispered.

“Things fell apart after that. I stopped speaking for months. The shock was too great. Mother fell ill shortly after. I don’t think she ever truly forgave him for disowning Hela. None of us did.”

Loki sighed despondently, their voice low. “Odin’s rule was absolute. We all learned a valuable lesson that night. Thor learned to always stay in line. I learned that nothing in this life is permanent, and that trust is for fools.”

“Oh, Lo,” Brunnhilde said sadly. She kissed their forehead, her lips softly touching their skin as if afraid she would hurt them. “I’m so sorry that all of you went through that. Fuck Odin.” She tried to keep her tone neutral. “But after all that, why would you ask him for this place? Why would you ever agree to do anything for him?”

Loki looked at her sadly. “For my entire adult life, you’ve looked out for me, Brunnie. You and your family helped me. I finally wanted to do something good for you. I thought- I don’t know what I thought. That I could swallow my pride for a good cause. That for once he wouldn’t be cruel, I suppose.”

Brunnhilde hugged them tightly, burying her face in soft, curled hair. “You absolute fucking muppet. You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re deeply irritating,” Loki rejoined.

“Love you forever, Lo.”

“Love you too, Brunnie.” Loki’s voice was a whisper. These softly quiet moments were solely for them.

Brunnhilde kissed their nose before her eyes searched theirs. Loki lazily traced the curve of her jaw with the pad of their thumb, their movement exploratory and their eyes needy.

“You won’t leave me, will you?” Loki’s voice was hesitant, hating themself for asking, for needing reassurance.

Brunnhilde’s dark eyes flashed. “Never! You’re stuck with me, little prince.”

Loki smiled, their face softening. “Oh, Brunnie,” they sighed, kissing her deeply.

The flatmates kissed each other passionately, their frayed nerves and worries transforming into lustful ache. They didn’t want to think, only to feel each other, to be close. Loki desperately needed to feel wanted.

Their hands tried to find warm skin, pulling up layers of clothing to find purchase. Brunnhilde gasped and moaned as Loki kissed her neck, their tongue and teeth playfully tasting her.

Loki moved lower, undoing her faded dungarees and lifting her shirt. Brunnhilde cried out when Loki pulled down her bralette, taking a peaked nipple into their mouth. They had done this for so long that Loki knew exactly how to dismantle her. They needed a victory today.

Brunnhilde brought Loki back up to her lips, kissing them with fervour, holding their hips as they grinded against her, their thin dress riding up with their exertions. The air was filled with their heavy sighs and soft moans.

Loki soon continued downward, kissing a path down hard muscle and scars, tracing around her sculpted body with their tongue.

Burning eyes looked up at her, framed by long, black lashes. “Tell me I’m good, Brunnie, please.”

Brunnhilde’s smile was disarmingly gentle. She stroked Loki’s cheek, and their face turned into her hand as their eyes closed.

“I think you’re great, Lo. You’re smart, talented and kind. You’re brilliant. No matter what anyone says, I know you’re good.”

Loki pulled down her overalls, gazing at the dark, small path of her happy trail and the alluring wisps of curled hair that peeked over her low boyshorts. Her thighs were muscular and covered in a light smattering of hair, which Loki knew continued down her curved legs.

She was beautiful, and for today at least, she would be theirs.

Loki shrugged off their cardigan and pulled their dress over their head, shaking out their hair. They wore their favourite matching set in forest green, the dark embroidered flowers of their bra and underwear making them feel pretty.

Their touches began once more in earnest as Brunnhilde held them close, murmuring sighed praises in their ear. “You’re good, you’re good, you’re good.”

When Loki pulled down her pants with their teeth, Brunnhilde covered her face and squirmed away. Her words were heavy in her chest. “No, stop. Stop, Loki. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Loki looked up at her in worry, their voice frantic. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Have I hurt you?”

Brunnhilde sat up and took their hands in hers. “No, honey. I’m okay, everything’s okay. I just- we shouldn’t have sex right now. You’re feeling vulnerable, and we shouldn’t use fucking as a way to deal with this. I don’t ever want to take advantage of you. Especially not right now.”

Loki looked down. Brunnhilde could see their thoughts whirring in their head, the self-loathing clawing its way back in.

Years ago, they both would have fucked to numb the pain, to still their thoughts. They both would have regretted it for days after, wondering what was wrong with them. She was right. They shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t a solution, it was an escape.

“Can we hold each other for a while? Is that alright?” Loki asked, the plaintive notes in their question as sharp as daggers in Brunnhilde’s heart.

“Of course we can, Lolo. C’mere.” She gathered them in her arms once more, pulling them back onto the sofa. She giggled at the feeling of Loki’s erection pressed heavily on her thigh.

“Sorry,” Loki muttered, embarrassed. “It will go down soon.”

“Whore,” Brunnhilde said playfully.

“Says the slut,” Loki laughingly replied.

They laid together for a long time, not speaking, until they drifted off in each other’s arms. Brunnhilde awakened first with a start. She carefully extricated an arm from around Loki’s sleeping form, smiling at how cherubic they looked while dreaming.

Brunnhilde reached blindly behind her until she felt her mobile with her fingertips. She carefully picked up her phone, sending a quick text to her fellow coaches.

Soz, family shit came up, can’t make session today. Lemme know how it goes. x

She placed the phone down and went back to cuddling her friend. She pressed a soft kiss to their forehead.

Loki shifted, their long limbs moving close to the only source of warmth in the cooling room. “What time is it? Isn’t your training soon?” Their voice was still raspy and hazy with sleep.

“Nope, not going. You’re more important to me right now. So, you’re welcome.”

Loki scoffed as they sat up, shivering at the lost contact. Both flatmates quickly got dressed, the events of the day enveloping them once more.

“Want tea or coffee, I got you the fancy stuff,” Brunnhilde asked while stretching. She was getting old. Sleeping on the sofa now left her with niggling aches and pains that required stretches and pained grunts.

“A coffee would be divine, darling,” Loki said gratefully.

Brunnhilde moved into the kitchen, preparing the drinks as she hummed an old song. They’d all tried to make the space more cosy, filling it with fun objects. Loki moved to the small kitchen table, rifling through a small paper bag.

“Oh, you bought danishes! How surprisingly thoughtful of you.” Loki found a patterned plate and carefully made a small pile.

Brunnhilde stuck her tongue out at them as a force of habit. “Sorry. I thought we could have a nice breakfast before this morning’s shitshow.”

The room filled with the warm, rich scents of freshly made coffee, pushing away all negative thoughts. Brunnhilde used Loki’s favourite mug, adding a splash of milk and amaretto. She made a builder’s tea for herself, placing her hands around hot porcelain to warm them.

Loki gratefully took their large mug as Brunnhilde sat across from them, blowing eddies of cool air across the surface of her tea. She looked at them over her mug.

“Do you think Thor-” she paused. Loki raised a well-trimmed brow. “Do you think he’ll actually do what he says?”

Loki shrugged, waving their hand dismissively. “I think that my brother thinks that he will keep his word. Ever dutiful, that Thor.”

Brunnhilde sighed. “Right. Well, that’ll be a fun thing to tell our flatmate. She’s going to be furious.”

Loki smiled, their eyes mischievous. “I’m sure that we can fuck our way back into her good graces, if we work incredibly hard at it. Even if it takes all night.”

The flatmates looked at each other slyly before laughing. It was odd how much lighter they felt after the last giggle ebbed away. They were fine if they could still laugh.

“You’re a brat, but you know I’ll always be here for you, right? Whenever you need me. You’re my family, though I’ll kill you if you tell anyone I said that.”

Loki rolled their eyes. “You’re getting soft in your old age. I can’t abide such- sentiment. But if I must say it-”

“You definitely do.”

“Fine! Yes, you are my family, Brunnhilde Cooper. I am glad we’re friends. Thank you for defending me today.” Loki looked pained at the admission. Wasn’t saying it to their father more than enough for one day?

Brunnhilde grinned sweetly. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Loki glared at her as they bit into their danish. “You are relentless in your cruelty, Brunnie.”

“Uh-huh. Keep being an ingrate, princeling, and I’ll punt you.”

Loki put a hand to their breast, a dramatic gasp leaving their lips. “I’d like to see you try, you absolute boor!”

The friends began their normal bickering, finding a certain relief in the art they had honed to perfection over the years. They spent the rest of the day indoors, enjoying what could possibly be their last days in their flat.

Brunnhilde didn’t bring attention to it, but she was gentle with Loki, holding them close as they watched films. She made sure that they did everything Loki wanted to do without protest, making a hearty dinner for two that was more like a feast. She followed their lead on whether to chat nonsense or listen, always ready with a tissue or cup of tea.

Loki didn’t say anything, they didn’t have to. Brunnhilde could see the appreciation in their eyes as she kept them occupied with team gossip and trash tv, being relentlessly normal throughout the day. They’d work out their feelings with their therapist, but what they needed more than anything that night was to feel normal with their best friend. Their smile was gentle, a sense of wonder building in their face at how lucky they were, despite it all.

They could keep the flat or lose it. Perhaps they would reconnect with their brother, or their budding reunion would crumble under years of mistrust and hurt feelings. It didn’t matter in the end. It would always be them and Brunnhilde. Even when they found other people, even when they turned old and grey.

Loki snuggled closer. Brunnhilde put her arm around them. They suddenly felt overwhelmed by the swell of emotion that consumed them at her gentle support.

“Brunnie?”

Brunnhilde looked at them, her brown eyes filled with curiosity.

“I love you very much, I really do.” Loki’s words came out in an uncharacteristic rush. They needed her to know that. Needed her to hear the weight of their feelings.

“I know, Lo. Love you too, silly sausage.” Her voice was warm with affection.

“And we’ll always be friends?”

“Oh, honey.” Brunnhilde hugged Loki tightly, kissing their cheek. She rested her forehead against theirs. “I promise you, we’re gonna be friends until you have to push me around in a wheelchair and I have to help you find your teeth.”

Loki’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Wonderful.”

“We’re gonna go into the same care home, and when the time comes I’ll make sure to smother you with a cushion.”

“Why must you ruin everything, Brunnhilde!”

“Shh! I’m being sweet. I’ll always be your friend, Odinson. You and I are mates forever. Always.”

Loki closed their eyes, their long fingers winding their way through hers. Their smile was joyful as they gave Brunnhilde a sweetly chaste kiss. “Always.”

#lrbb2022 #ship: loki x valkyrie

53 notes · View notes