#i feel like i may have gone overboard here

[roszabell]

how do you choose what art you reblog and like? I want to tag my art more effectively so it gets seen but no matter what I do it doesn't really work

do you like scroll through the tags or only look at what your mutuals reblog

hmm...ill try to give an answer on how i use tumblr but really every person is different!

for tags, make sure youre looking at the popular tags/system of the fandom/space you're in. for example, i tag things mostly as "hws [character]" because people dont really use "aph" anymore--but if i want my work to be seen more, ill tag it as both, because there still are people who use and view the "aph [character]" tag and then ill reach all audiences.

while tagging systems are important, i think the biggest thing is viewing tumblr not as a content-consumer website, but as a place to make friends and share work. SO, my biggest reccommendation is just to reach out to people! it can be scary, but find ppl who have similar likes/ideas/interests as you and make a connection! not in a "i like your stuff so now please share my art too" way, but being genuine friends with people and wanting to engage in the fan space!

if you're not looking for that kind of answer, ill answer your question more directly; I personally reblog and like things from the people i follow and are mutuals with that are on my dash (which is how i think most people use the site instead of tag searching.) but ill be honest, im rarely scrolling the tumblr dashboard (i do my doomscrolling on tiktok instead lmao). most of the things i interact with are things that my friends here create or share with me (hence making friends who have your same interests!) i do look at tags occasionally, but only when I'm looking for something specific or i'm really in the mood to see a certain character/type of art and want to filter the dash.

lastly, and please forgive me if this sounds preachy i really dont mean it that way, you seem like a young/beginner artist (not a bad thing! im proud of you for posting and wanting to be seen!) or maybe your interests aren't common/are rare. the hard truth is not everyone is going to connect with your art, and thats okay! genuinely i promise that the numbers dont matter, just seek out genuine connections and HAVE FUN and you'll be just fine!

[goaskangel]

nanami really loving you on valentine's day!

cw : aggresive, perv nanami, groping, dry humping, breeding(?), alcohol mention, yummy asfff

word count : 1.8k

you may have gone overboard with the cleaning. your apartment doesn’t look lived in, more like an IKEA showroom. it’s not like nanami’s an inspector, he’s your boyfriend. new though, you’re not very close and it’s only been a couple of months but he was manly enough to ask you to be his valentine, how could you resist!

he’s just so perfect, you daydream while flattening the creases of the couch’s pillow. golden and groomed blonde hair, ironed suits, old fashioned manners. how his voice goes softer when he’s speaking to you, his strong teeth and subtle smile only coming out for you. it feels like you’ve won a national prize every time you break his calm and collected attitude and manage to make his pale complex warm up. you dimmed the living room since you planned a casual movie-night with him, hopefully not too casual for him. 

god knows he’ll show up in his signature suit and sit up-right while you play a stupid rom-com. that would be kind of nice. finally all alone, together, on a comfy couch. you could crawl onto his lap, tug on his tie, lick on his collared neck. kiss him like you mean it, no fear of the public. 

you squint at your suddenly changed thoughts and get up with a sigh, knowing him, he might not make a move. but he’s only a man…?

you wait for the door’s bell. when it comes, you give yourself a few seconds and fix your hair before walking to the door. you can’t make it seem like you’d been waiting, that’d be ridiculous. suddenly your thoughts of changing your clothes because it’s a bit too chilly pass your mind when you see him. like lava streams in your blood, you warm up to a casual nanami. a pretty man dressed in a gray sweatshirt that painfully compliments his skin showed up timely to spend time with his girlfriend on valentine’s, you could faint!

“hello. picked up flowers on the way, these are for you.” he tilts the bouquet, your favorite, towards you gently, grinning warmly, making his eyes squint. you swear you could eat his face. 

“thank you, thank you!” you’re handed the flowers as he steps closer to you, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead as you take them, inhaling the floral aroma mixed with his peppery and woody cologne.

“i love them, but you didn’t have to, really.”

“it’s valentine’s day and the least i could do.” same soft smile on his lips. 

you smile, too hard, at his gesture and move to the side to let him in. he kicks off his shoes as you quickly close and lock the front door, placing the flowers on the kitchen counter. 

“it’s not too hot in here, i hope.” 

“it’s just fine,” he offhandedly observes the room, an appreciation for what you’ve done to the place. he tugs at his sleeves and rolls them up, revealing strong forearms. jesus christ. you snap out of your gaze and rush to sit at the couch, a thick blanket and a couple of fluffy pillows decorated the comfy space. rich chocolate and drinks already set at the coffee-table, and his favorite desserts from a bakery? you pat at the spot next to you and hold back a giggle when he sits next to you. his black pants spreading neatly over his thighs, your eyes carefully wandering to the seam of the zipper, your mouth pooling. 

“here, get comfy.” you toss the large pull-over on the both of you, taking in the sight of him, shuffling closer to you and warming up to the blanket around him. 

“quite a fine home you’ve got, it’s extremely cozy.” he throws an arm over you. 

“i try. it’s not usually this… tidy.”

“what? you’re trying to impress me?” he teases. 

“it’s your first time over, i wanna make you feel good an’ comfy.” 

“well, it’s working.” he smooths his hand over your hot cheek, the metal of his ringed index finger brushing over you.

you spend the remaining time opening chocolate and bakery boxes, feeding each other and occasionally kissing while a movie plays in the background. you hope for any move during the time he’s with you, any move at all. maybe a lingering kiss. it’s so distracting the way the shadows of the dark room and light source from the tv brighten his sharp features. you’re leaning into his warm chest as his fingers graze over your exposed thighs, sipping the wine you bought that he surprisingly, and thankfully, really enjoyed. 

another scene of the characters just talking and spilling lore, he sets the half-full glass down and focuses on you. eyes on the screen but his palm has splayed to soothe and grope over your thigh. he notices your obedience, spreading your legs just by the tiniest bit. his slips his hand into your inner thigh and that’s where you roll your body slowly. 

his eyes are now on you, and your bodies mingled under the sheet as you watch the movie. mmm, thank god you wore thin shorts and a random t-shirt. you feel as his fingers graze over your thinly covered cunt, tips coming down to rub your clit. your gaze stays straight but you don’t focus, you’re unable too.

“c’mere,” nanami fixes your slouched posture so you sit with your back on his chest, your legs open and pliable for him to touch and grope at your body. 

“kento.” you mumble, dazed, when his hand slides underneath your damp panties to tease at your folds. 

“mhm, you’re so beautiful.” he sniffs at your hair as his other hand grips under your bra to hold and fondle your breast. the wine was really getting to you both. a sudden pulse at your lower back as he grinds gently into you, how tight had his pants gotten? 

finally, finally, he got his hands on you. even under a blanket, you look down to watch the fabric move in waves as he rubbed your most sensitive parts, the alcohol heightening your senses. skilled hands pacing gentle but greedy circles on your buds as you gripped the remote. you appreciate his sexual activity, it’s just so much more aggressive than you thought he ever could be. his sweet words and gestures all hid his intrusive and perverse actions.

“god, i need to feel you.” he highlights his eagerness with an extra squeeze. you pathetically push the blanket off the couch and with trembling hands, you move yourself to face him. he lays himself down as you sit on his lap. you moan quietly when you feel him against your soiled shorts, bucking your hips down to get more of the twitching sensation below his belt. humping the fat chub under his pants, you craved it more than anything.

“uh-huh, that’s good. baby, you’re so good to me. that’s it.” his hands hold a bruising grip on your hips as you grind slowly but firmly on his hard cock. 

“couldn’t stop thinking about this,” he groans when you rub your fat cunt directly on his tip, “this pretty body on mine, you’re so fucking hard to resist.” his cursing going right to your achy clit. you hop off and watch him violently take his belt off, switching your spots and filling the void between your legs with his hips. pulling his sweater off and tossing it as you do the same with your top. his pale skin so handsome and soft with his softer muscles and a layer of fat on his stomach from eating all his favorite breads. so sexy, you wrap your legs around his waist. you shake your head at the condom he pulls out from his pocket. 

“needa feel you, your cock in me, please. don’t want anything between us, kento, please please. it’s valentine’s, let me do this for you.” 

“perfect girl, you’re gonna kill me.” but he complies, gladly tossing the latex and pulling the confinements of his cock down. you whine at his contents. big and hard, the first time you’ve seen this part of him. you love it, he hasn’t even fucked you and you already love it, love him. 

you nod aggressively when he lines his chubby, weeping tip against your soppy pussy. letting it catch a few times as he rocks back and forth, the moves of his sexy hips making you throb. he fulfills his own fantasies of his raw cock on his beautiful girl’s wet cunt whilst she begs for him to fill her up and make her his. 

“you want it, sweetheart?”

“more than anything, yes yes yes.” 

“no protection, nothing protecting you? you sure, love? it’s risky.”

“don’t care. i’ll have your babies if you want to, if i have to – jus’ give it to me.” 

“mmm, babies, huh… you sure that’s not the wine talking?” sick, even if it wasn’t the lust from being slightly tipsy, he wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop himself.

you could cry with all the teasing he’s doing but you lose your breath when he pushes himself into your perfect, tight cunt. all his. he takes your limp and delicate upper frame to his advantage and undoes your bra. nanami rolls himself deeper into you as he watches your pretty tits bounce with every move. 

“so good, ken, thank you..!” as he presses himself into the depths of your cunt. you're unbelievably tight and so warm when he bottoms out as far as he can without really breaking you in. 

he’s slow, eager and certainly not collected as he usually is but he takes his time to fuck you. you’re so drunk on lust and sex that you just agree to whatever he says. his pretty girl wants to be all his? have his kids? marry him and be taken care of and fucked so good daily? you nod and babble to all of it. as he speeds up, his sloppy kisses and skilled tongue on your nipples slow and he concentrates on making you both come. the movie ended a while ago and the rooms filled with groans and moans, sloppy and slippery squelches and slaps. 

his kisses his thumb wet and massages little circles into your sensitive clit. you writhe at not only the delicious friction but how you tighten up again around his cock, stretching you out all over again. 

“close, i’m close. keep fucking me, kento, yes, mhm. yesyesyes..” you jump at the overwhelming, intense orgasm and milk out every single ribbon of creamy cum into you. growling and furrowing his dark brows as he creams directly at your cervix. 

“good, good girl.” he snaps through his teeth as he finishes inside you. smoothing his hand over your pelvis and under your naval. gasping and panting as you both collect yourselves. he sinks down to rub his sweating face into your neck, kissing you gently again as you pull and stroke his blonde locks. ending such a day with all his love! <3

happy valentine's day you FREAKS

masterlist

[verysium]

attractive things bllk characters (unintentionally) do?👀

i received this ask and decided to write this entire thing through a caffeine-powered fever dream. may have gone a little overboard. please pray for both your sanity and mine. thank you anon for your strong sense of imagination (or delusion, whichever you prefer.)

nagi lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and you accidentally (or not so accidentally) get a good look at the droplets running down his abs and v-line. he also does the doorway lean while waiting for you to get ready. since he's so tall, he puts his one arm up on the top of the door frame while scrolling through his phone. when he feels drained of energy, he clings to you like a koala, face buried into the crook of your neck.

rin pushes his hair back when his bangs get in the way, and it shows off his ridiculously sharp side profile. sometimes you have to pause mid-conversation because the direct eye contact gets too intense. he has the brightest turquoise eyes in existence, and they stare right into your soul. pair that with the height difference and him towering over you. hang onto your ovaries because this man is about to snatch them. if isagi or sae are anywhere remotely close within your vicinity, he will personally drag your chair closer over to him. you know, the whole nick jonas chair pull thing? he also unintentionally clenches his jaw when pissed, the vein popping out and everything.

barou is polite to his elders. he holds the door open for others. he tips extra at restaurants. he is kind to service workers. he's just a gentleman overall even though he likes to act tough. he rolls up his sleeves while cleaning or cutting up vegetables, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearms. wears those form-fitting aprons where you can see the outline of his waist and the muscles in his back. he is not immune to raging pit bull moments, but he will calm down immediately when you ask him to.

kaiser requires physical touch to function. all concept of personal boundaries goes poof in his little ego-driven brain. he holds your chin so you look up at him while he's talking. also has that husky growl when he wakes up in the morning. he speaks german. what else is more attractive than that? if you stroke his ego, he will puff his chest out like an emperor penguin and flash that movie star smile. does not slow down his pace for you, and will laugh at your expense when you trip in heels and fall. but then he feels guilty about it and begrudgingly picks you up and carries you home. however, before that he will make you swear on everything holy to never tell isagi about his moment of weakness. (tbh kaiser is a menace and has some serious self-esteem issues. pls avoid dating a man like him in real life until he is fully mature. i still love him tho.)

reo mansplains but not in the condescending way. he does so in the "omg i'm so excited to finally get to share something with you and you're never going to believe it" sort of way. rambles on and on about his interests and gets that little glint in his eye when he's passionate about something. also not sure if this counts but he gets extremely depressed when you don't message him back within five minutes. what do you mean you were busy? he was out here dying from a literal famine. he needs your affection to survive. last but not least, he is good at styling. he knows what colors work best for you, and he will put together three new looks for you in record time.

hiori dreams that you left him for good and wakes up crying with his arms around you. will refuse to let you leave the bed even if it is just to get a glass of water. his rare moments of emotional vulnerability are what gets to you.

shidou does not condone any of your bad decisions. you want to get shit-faced and party until early morning? no complaints from him. you want to wear sexy outfits to the club? say less because he's about to enjoy the view and knock out the front teeth of every guy who dares to ogle you. i don't know if this qualifies as being attractive, but he would never be the controlling type. you can dress and act however you want. unfortunately for you though, this is also a textbook case of the blind leading the blind. if you get horrendously hungover, so does he. if you get pulled over, he's going to be too blackout drunk to even comprehend the officer's words. you can count on him for a good time, but not anything else. do not take any of his advice at face value.

oliver likes to show you off even if he doesn't notice it himself. any talk with his team, and he will find a way to make the entire conversation about you. at this point, the entire u-20 team is done with him. they placed bets that you two wouldn't last more than a month due to his philandering reputation, but the universe seems to think otherwise because you and oliver hit the six-month mark and are still going strong.

ness guards your drink with an unnecessary amount of protection. while you left to go use the restroom, he was looking left and right, and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling every time someone even came close to your cup. he also shoos away any person who opens their mouth while standing next to your drink because apparently the condensation from their breath could be dangerous. definitely covers your cup with both hands even if it has a lid. no suspicious shit is happening on his watch.

yukimiya is well-read, and he wears glasses. he has a copy of every single classic out there in existence and will fangirl along with you over your virginia woolf collection. he was written by a woman with two cats and a wine glass. not much else to say.

loki absolutely clears the entire carnival/arcade game. you want that giant teddy bear that costs over three hundred ticket points? say less because he's about to win the whole damn pot. of all characters, i would say he's one of the only green flags. like celery green.

isagi always looks for you when he enters the room. intentionally or not, he always seeks your presence. if someone says a funny joke, he turns to you to see if you're laughing or not. also does that somewhat creepy stare thing where he just looks at you quietly while you do mundane tasks. internally he is screaming cus what do you mean you actually like him?

chigiri gives you that thankful little smile whenever you stand up for him. i feel like people don't understand how goofy he can get as he's canonically good at doing impressions/impersonations. also has the prettiest laugh. if he ever cuts his hair, i think i'm going to get a nosebleed.

noa unconsciously says yes to every question you ask of him. he'd be giving bastard münchen a hard time (and denying isagi's requests) but then immediately once you come over, he's automatically acquiescing to everything you say. the rest of the team is low-key shocked you can win him over so easily. when they confront him about it, he just shrugs and goes "y/n is always right."

kurona's entire existence is attractive. he's just perfect. nothing is ever wrong with him. will let you check out his shark teeth and lightly pokes your finger to leave an imprint. hopefully you'll always remember him that way. he's also quiet so he will listen to everything you say and give ample weight to your words.

sae is my baby girl so he gets a whole section dedicated to himself:

absentmindedly plays with your hair. when you're sleeping in his lap, he'll gently run his fingers along your scalp. sometimes in the morning when you're sitting up on the edge of your bed to do your makeup, he'll come up from behind you and brush back your hair. might also press a kiss to the back of your neck.

helps you put on your face mask. when he's shopping, he will buy you lotion along with his own skincare products. says that it was just a convenient store run but you know he personally made sure to get you the best quality ones.

this is canon because i said so: when he gets out of the shower, he slings the towel over his neck or his shoulder. he also involuntarily flexes his biceps when he bends down to grab something. has the world's most defined deltoids.

when you're stuck in large crowds at the airport, he puts his hand in your back pocket to keep you two from getting separated. if the TSA pat-down is anywhere too personal for his liking, he will openly glare at the officer once you've passed the security checkpoint.

bonus point: when you two brush your teeth early in the morning, he has that little bed head where his shorn-off bangs stick up in cute little tufts here and there. will have a dead look on his face, but his eyes soften when he catches your gaze through the mirror.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Get Unready With Me - Drunk Edition

In which Lando takes care of you after a night out.

Pairing: Lando Norris x FeminineGirlfriend!Reader Warnings: Drunk reader. Tooth achingly sweet fluff tho. Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

“Lando! I’ve lost my keys!” You cry, opening the flap on your vintage Chanel bag in an attempt to dump the contents out on the floor of your flat’s empty hallway. 

“No you haven’t, you muppet.” He scolds, tugging the purse out of your hands before anything beyond your Charlotte Tilbury lipstick can clatter to the floor. “You gave me your keys after your fifth vodka cran. ‘Lan baby, be my hero and hold my keys so I don’t lose them!’” He mocks, pulling out your keyring from his pocket. 

Your eyes light up, a drunken giggle slipping off your lips as you lean your whole weight onto your boyfriend as he attempts to open the apartment door for you. “My hero!” 

“Besides,” He tuts, slipping the key into the keyhole. “We live together, my keys are your keys.” 

Lando swings the door open, ushering you inside before closing the door behind him with a soft snick of the lock. You look back at him, a bit more unsteady on your feet than you’d like. The pair of you are just getting back from dinner and dancing with a few of the other drivers and their significant others to celebrate the end of the season and you may have gone a bit overboard with the drinks portion of the night.

Flinging your stilettos off your feet, you groan at the relief of feeling the cool tile on your toes, only stumbling a bit when you try to stand up straight. It’s quite the miracle you made it up from the garage to your tenth floor apartment in those heels under your own power really. “I think my feet might just fall off.” 

Lando follows behind you as you stumble towards the couch. “Baby, shouldn’t we just go to bed? It’s late.” 

“My feet don’t work anymore. Carry me?” You pout, reaching for him with grabby hands. You are quite needy when you get this drunk but honestly, Lando doesn’t mind one bit. You’re quite independent, refusing to allow him to pay for much despite his multi-million dollar contract and endorsement deals. In fact, for the first year of your relationship you had refused to move in with him because there had been no way you could afford to split the rent in his posh apartment in Monaco. So when you get needy like this, which isn’t as often as he’d like, Lando likes to take full advantage of it. He likes to feel needed, especially by the woman he is absolutely smitten with. 

“I think your feet work just fine, but I will carry you to bed anyway, pretty girl.” He coos, scooping you up in his arms. 

You wiggle a little against him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck before breathing in his scent deeply. “You smell so good.” 

“I smell like sweat.” He laughs, walking down the hall towards your shared bedroom. 

“It must be the pheromones then. You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty.” You giggle. 

Lando chuckles, knocking the light switch with his elbow as he enters your room. The yellow glow from the lights overhead illuminate your face as you look up at him. In the alcohol induced haze, the thought of how lucky you are to have him flickers through your mind. You two had met a few years ago when you had been attended the British Grand Prix with your uncle Jenson Button. He had literally swept you off your feet when Fernando Alonso had nearly taken you out in the paddock with his scooter. You liked to joke that Lando had literally been your knight in shining armor that day, so of course you fell for him quick and hard. 

“Here you go, love.” Lando gently sets you down on the bed, your eyes already droopy with exhaustion from the day. “Lets get you out of that dress and into something comfy.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lando Norris?” You slur. 

“No, I’m trying to get you into bed because you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep and I don’t want to cuddle you all night with that scratchy dress on.” Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He helps you shimmy out of the tight dress, pulling it over your head so you were left in only the skimpy McLaren papaya colored lingerie set. 

“This is new.” He says, slipping a finger under the strap of the lacy bralette that has him biting his bottom lip. You looked so cute sitting there on the bed, dressed only in his team colors. 

“I wore it to surprise you but now I’m too drunk to fuck you.” 

Lando can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of him. Despite you being 3 sheets to the wind, you know his rules: No sex while one of you is drunk and the other is sober.  And Lando is very sober right now, wanting to maintain some control over you as you tend to get a little wild and adventurous (read: you like to wander off) when you’re partying. “We can have a rot in bed day tomorrow and you can wear it then, okay love?” 

Your bottom lip sticks out in a pout, “Fine.” 

“Now, lay down. I’ll go get you a t-shirt and we can go to sleep.” 

You follow his instructions and watch as Lando bustles around the room, first getting changed himself and then pulling a t-shirt out of his closet for you. 

A few moments later, Lando pulls his t-shirt onto your body and tucks you back into bed before going to get some aspirin and a glass of water for you, knowing you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow. He hates to see you in pain, but a part of him is pleased that you’ll be unable to do much tomorrow so he’ll be able to wait on you hand and foot. Being needed is absolutely one of Lando’s love languages. 

As he goes to switch off the lights, finally ready to get into bed beside you, suddenly you sit up. “Lando!” You gasp, smacking him on the shoulder as he sits down on his side of the bed. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” 

“My makeup! If I don’t take it off and wash my face, I’m going to break out and I will not be your pretty girl anymore.” 

Lando rolls his eyes, “Seriously? Can’t you just skip it this one time? You will always be my pretty girl, breakout or not.” 

In addition to being extra needy when you’re drunk, you are also extra stubborn. “I need to do my skincare, Lando.” You whine. 

“Fine.” Lando is quite certain there is no way you’d be able to do it by yourself, judging by the state you’re in though. “Let’s go, I’ll help you.” 

You blink up at him as he rounds the bed to stand before you, offering you his hand. “Really?” 

He looks down at those big eyes and pouty lips of yours and really wants to break the whole ’no sex while only one of us is drunk’ rule. “Yes, really you muppet. Come on.” 

Despite the fact that just a few minutes before you had been insisting your feet were about to fall off, you suddenly find the ability to walk and pad behind him into the large en suite bathroom. It’s a luxurious place, with a large jetted tub and huge shower with two shower heads. You find yourself sharing a shower with Lando more often than not. On the other side of the white and black tiled bathroom are his and hers sinks, yours more cluttered than his with various skin and hair products. You may be independent when it comes to asking for help, but you are certainly not low maintenance when it comes to your hair or skin.  

Lando stands in front of your sink, eyeing the various jars and tubes with a bit of skepticism. “I hope you’re sober enough to tell me what goes first because there is no way I can do this on my own.” He mumbles.

“You watch me do this all the time, baby.” 

“Doesn’t mean I know what any of this is. Now, hop up on the counter and let me take care of you.” He says, kissing the tip of your nose. 

A fire burns in your belly at his order. Secretly, you do love when he takes care of you like this. You just hate to admit it. Being raised by a single mom who was never the biggest fan of the male species, you had always been wary of asking for help but being with Lando had healed some of that trauma and mistrust in you and the longer you were with him, the easier you found depending on him. 

“What’s first?” 

“The micellar water.” 

Panic flashes across Lando’s face. “The what?” 

Giggling, you kick your feet like a toddler and point to the large bottle with clear liquid in it. “That. Put some on a cotton ball and…” 

“Wipe off your makeup. I know, I’ve seen you do it, I just don’t know what goes when.”

Lando squirts some out on a cotton ball like he’s seen you do a thousand times and begins to wipe off the makeup in long, slow strokes. The alcohol makes your brain fuzzy but the way his face is so focused on his task, brows knit together in concentration, has you squeezing your legs together. He can’t quite believe how many cotton balls it takes to get everything off, but eventually most of your makeup is gone. 

“Now is when you use the soap, right?” 

He looks so eager to be right your heart squeezes a bit. “Yes, that bottle right there.” 

Lando continues on with your skincare routine, listening to your every step and following it exactly as described. It takes a little longer than usual, but neither of you mind. The way he so gently rinses the soap off your face and then applies your moisturizer is strangely one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done together. 

Finally, everything is done and you’re bare faced and freshly moisturized. Lando hands you your toothbrush, already prepped with your toothpaste, and the pair of you brush your teeth together. He gently helps you down off the counter and you follow him back into the bedroom, hand in hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” You coo as you slip under the covers, watching as Lando switches off the bedroom lights, plunging the bedroom into darkness. 

“I love taking care of you.” He murmurs when he joins you under the heavy duvet, your warmth radiating towards him in waves. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” 

“I love you too, pretty girl.” 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

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[unconventional-lawnchair]

Could you please do a poly marauders+lily with reader having to take some time off of school due to poor mental health/stress! This could be with an eating disorder or just simple depression or something like that. Feel free to adjust this however you like! Love your writings btw💙

AN: Thank you!! 💕 This is so cute I may have gone overboard.

Loving You is Easy

Marauders + Lily x fem!Reader

Summary: Being younger than all your respective partners was never a big deal; until they graduated and you were left behind. As your mental health declined and their lives started without you, a break was needed.

WC: 5.7k

CW: Mentions of Practice kissing, reader gets babied.

The morning light filtered through the large windows of James’s bedroom, the soft warmth of the sun brushing against your skin. Normally, this room was filled with life- James’s laughter, Sirius’s sarcastic remarks, Lily’s quick wit, and Remus’s calm steadiness. But today, it was just you, cocooned in the comforting scent of them, sinking deeper into the bed that had become your refuge.  

James’s Quidditch jersey was bunched in your hands, the fabric soft from years of wear. You’d slipped it on at some point last night, the oversized garment brushing against your thighs as you curled tighter beneath the blanket. Lily’s pillow was tucked under your head, her faint floral scent surrounding you.  

You knew you should get up. But the thought of facing anything beyond these four walls was suffocating. You had already overstayed your welcome- you should be at Hogwarts. In class. The winter hadn't even ended yet and you caved in on yourself.

The door creaked open, and James peeked his head inside, his messy hair sticking up at odd angles. He was always the first to notice when something was off, his intuition as sharp as his loyalty was- unwavering. 

“Hey, love,” He said softly, stepping into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb your cocoon of blankets. “You’ve been in here all morning. Feeling stuck?”  

You nodded faintly, burying your face deeper into Lily’s pillow.  

James gave a heartbroken coo, his hand reaching out to smooth your hair. James's hand lingered in your hair, his fingers carding through the strands as if it might untangle the weight pressing down on you. He tilted his head, a soft, lopsided smile curling his lips despite the crease of worry in his brow.  

“My little brave fox,” he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a secret he was sharing just with you. “You’ve got no idea how much I love you, do you?”  

You didn’t reply, but your fingers tightened slightly on the jersey bunched in your hands. James’s eyes caught the movement, his chest aching at the sight of you clinging so tightly to anything that might bring you comfort. And it was a piece of him.

“I should really shower,” he said, his voice low, almost to himself. “I’m a right mess after that run.”  

But he made no move to get up. Instead, he leaned down closer, brushing a kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there as he exhaled. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He murmured, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and awe.  

Finally, he forced himself to pull back, though his eyes stayed locked on you. “All right,” He said, his voice soft and coaxing. “Here’s the deal: I’ll go shower, so I don’t stink up the place, and then I’m coming right back here to hold you until you’re ready to take on the world- or until Sirius bursts in and tries to steal you away. Sound good?”  

Your nod was barely a movement, but it was enough to make his heart clench painfully.  

“Good,” He said, a grin breaking through despite the worry etched into his features. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah? Not that you’d want to. You’re in my bed, after all. Best spot in the whole manor.”  

His teasing earned him the faintest twitch of your lips, and his grin widened, his chest swelling with a bittersweet kind of pride.  

“Be right back, love,” He promised, pressing another kiss to your hair before reluctantly standing and heading for the door. He paused in the doorway, turning back for one last look at you, his hand gripping the doorframe as though he couldn’t bear to leave.  

“I mean it,” He said softly. “Bravest little fox I’ve ever known.”  

And with that, he disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.

It wasn't long before Lily came in, her soft footsteps barely audible on the carpet. She carried a steaming mug of tea, the soothing aroma of chamomile filling the air.  

Lily placed the tea on the bedside table with careful precision, as though even the smallest noise might disturb your fragile peace. Her green eyes softened as they took you in- curled up in the bed, buried under layers of blankets, clutching James’s jersey like a lifeline. She crouched down, bringing herself to your level, her voice gentle but purposeful.  

"My sleepy girl," She murmured, her words carrying both affection and worry. “You’ve been working so hard, sweetheart. Too hard.”  

You didn’t respond, but the slight movement of your shoulders, as though trying to disappear further into the bed, told her enough.  

Without another word, Lily stood and walked to the windows. With a flick of her wand, the heavy curtains drew themselves shut, dimming the room to a soft, cozy glow. The harsh winter light was replaced by the flickering warmth of lanterns, which she conjured in the corners of the room, their golden light soothing rather than overwhelming.  

She paused, surveying the space with the critical eye of someone determined to make it perfect. Another flick of her wand, and the fireplace roared to life, its gentle crackle filling the silence.  

When she returned to your side, she adjusted the blanket around you, tucking it under your chin with the utmost care. “There we are,” She said softly. “That’s a bit better, isn’t it?”  

You nodded faintly, though your grip on the jersey didn’t loosen.  

Lily reached for the tea again, this time bringing it closer. “I made this just for you,” She said, holding the mug carefully. “Chamomile, with a touch of honey- exactly how you like it. You don’t have to drink it all right now, but just one sip, love. For me?”  

Her voice was so patient, so kind, that you found yourself leaning up slightly to take the mug. The warmth seeped into your hands, grounding you as you took a small sip.  

“There’s my girl,” Lily cooed, her smile soft and encouraging. “You’re trying, and that’s all I could ever ask of you.” 

Lily didn’t linger with physical affection- she knew you needed space today. Instead, she moved around the room, her actions deliberate and filled with purpose. She tidied the bedside table, arranging your tea and the stack of books James had haphazardly left there. She straightened the extra blanket at the foot of the bed, ensuring you had everything you might need within arm’s reach.  

“Sweetheart,” She said as she worked, her voice gentle but firm. “I need you to hear this. You are not overstaying your welcome. This is your home, just as much as it’s ours. And there’s no clock ticking down on how long you’re allowed to rest.”  

Her words hung in the air, a balm for the guilt you hadn’t been able to voice.  

“You give so much of yourself,” She continued, turning to look at you. “To your studies, to your friends, to us. It’s time to let us give something back.”  

Once the room was to her liking, Lily returned to your side, settling into the chair James kept beside the bed. She didn’t press you to talk or move, simply grabbing her abandoned knitting project and watching you with the kind of quiet determination that made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.  

“You don’t have to face everything today,” She hummed, looking down at her project and after a while, her voice grew soft- steady. “Some days are for fighting dragons. And some days...” She gestured to the bed and the blankets enveloping you. “Are for letting us do it for you.”  

You didn’t reply, but when she reached for the tea again, you took another sip without hesitation.  

“That’s my good girl,” She whispered, her smile returning. “Just take it one sip at a time, love. I’ll be right here.”  

Sirius burst in next, his energy as uncontainable as ever, though it softened the moment he saw you curled up in the bed. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.  

“Well, aren’t you a sight,” He teased lightly, though there was no bite in his tone- still earned him a glare from Lily. “What’s the excuse today? Too good for the rest of us? Or is this just another one of your ‘I’m not enough’ days?”  

The humor was sharp, but the tenderness in his voice cracked through your defenses. You peeked out from beneath the blanket, giving him the smallest of glares. 

“There she is,” He chuckled with a smirk, hands on his hips. “You’re lucky you’re adorable, you know. Otherwise, we might get offended by all this moping.”  

Sirius strode over, his smirk fading into something softer as he crouched down to your level, his dark eyes searching yours. There was mischief there, of course, but also something deeper- concern, a kind of devotion that made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and overwhelming.  

Before addressing you again, Sirius turned to Lily, catching her hand and pressing a dramatic kiss to the back of it. “Don’t look at me like that, Evans,” He murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to help, not to make trouble. Mostly.”  

Lily arched an eyebrow, but her lips twitched with a smile. “Be good,” She warned lightly, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her.  

“Always,” Sirius replied, leaning forward to kiss her properly this time. It wasn’t quick or casual- it was intense and full of the kind of passion that made you look away instinctively, even though you were used to seeing it between them. When he pulled back, his grin had returned, brighter now.  

“Merlin,” He sighed, turning his attention back to you. “Beautiful things you are. How’d I get so lucky, hmm?”  

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Sirius Black, the eternal flirt, wasn’t supposed to be this soft. And yet, here he was, looking at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.   

He settled himself on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands as he regarded you with a lopsided grin. “You know, you’ve really done it this time,” He chuckled, his tone light but warm. “Stolen James’s jersey, taken over his bed, and now hoarding Lily’s attention. Such a spoiled girl.”

Sirius's grin softened as he leaned down, his lips brushing over the blanket-covered curve of your shoulder. His voice dropped to a whisper, rough with affection and sincerity.  

“I bloody love it,” He murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours. “Such a pretty girl, even when she’s hiding from me.”  

Your breath hitched, though you quickly averted your gaze, burying your face further into Lily’s pillow. Sirius chuckled, the sound low and warm, as though your attempt to retreat only endeared you to him more.  

Lily cleared her throat pointedly, her knitting needles clinking together as she worked. “Sirius Black,” She said with mock severity, though the softness in her voice betrayed her. “If you’re going to flirt, at least make yourself useful.”  

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her, leaning back with that ever-present smirk. “Flirting is useful, Evans. Keeps her smiling, doesn’t it?”  

Lily rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, her gaze flicking back to you. “You’re insufferable,” She muttered, though her lips twitched with a smile.  

Sirius turned back to you, his hand brushing against the blanket as if silently asking permission to stay closer. “She’s just jealous,” He teased lightly. “She can’t stand how good I am at making you smile.”  

When you didn’t reply, his voice softened, and his grin faded into something more vulnerable. “I mean it, though,” He murmured, his tone low and sincere. “I love seeing you get what you deserve. Everything. And I don’t care if you want to hide away in this bed forever, I’ll be right here with you.”  

Lily paused her knitting, her expression softening as she glanced at Sirius. “You’re not as hopeless as you let everyone believe,” She said quietly, the hint of a smile on her lips.  

“Don’t let that get out,” Sirius replied with a wink, though his eyes remained fixed on you. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for just a moment. “It’s our secret, yeah, love?”  

Only then did you give a shy nod.

Remus entered the room quietly, his presence like the gentle warmth of a winter hearth. His amber eyes swept over the scene- Lily perched in her chair, Sirius lounging on the bed with a familiar smirk, and you cocooned in the blankets, clutching James’s jersey like a lifeline.  

He crossed to Lily first, his movements unhurried, his focus unwavering. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, the simple gesture filled with quiet affection. Lily looked up at him, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile as she reached up to touch his hand briefly before returning to her knitting.  

Sirius, never one to be outdone, groaned dramatically from his spot on the bed. “Oh, come on, Moony. Where’s my kiss?”  

Remus sighed, his lips twitching in amusement as he turned toward Sirius. “You’re relentless,” He muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his fondness. He leaned down and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Sirius’s lips, earning a pleased hum from the man sprawled beside you.  

“There. Happy now?” Remus asked, his voice tinged with dry humor.  

Sirius grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Ecstatic. Don’t let it stop there, though.” 

You stayed quiet, sinking further into the blankets as you watched the interactions unfold. Remus hadn’t looked at you yet, hadn’t even acknowledged you, and the knot of guilt in your chest tightened. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was upset with you- if your inability to pull yourself out of this slump was finally wearing on his patience.  

Lily must have noticed the way your fingers tightened on the jersey because she glanced at Remus pointedly. “Moony,” She said softly, her tone a mixture of gentle affection and subtle reprimand.  

Remus’s gaze snapped to you, his amber eyes widening slightly as if realizing his mistake. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that soothing tone he used when he wanted you to feel safe.

He crouched beside the bed, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the blanket. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any trace of hurt. “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”  

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you glanced away, feeling foolish for thinking he’d been upset.  

Remus reached out, his hand hovering near yours before settling gently over it. “I could never be upset with you,” he said, as though he’d read your mind. “I promise.”  

His touch was warm, grounding, and you felt the knot in your chest begin to loosen.  

“You’ve been so strong,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “But you don’t have to be. Not with us.”  

Sirius leaned back, watching the two of you with a faint smile that lacked his usual mischief. “Told you,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re not going anywhere.”  

Lily set her knitting aside and stood, crossing to place a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “She’s been feeling like a burden,” she said quietly, her green eyes meeting his.  

Remus’s brows furrowed, his expression pained. “Love,” He whispered, turning his full attention back to you. “You are never a burden. You’re ours, and we’re yours. That’s all that matters.”  

His words wrapped around you like a second blanket, his steady presence chasing away the lingering shadows. When you finally met his gaze, the soft smile that broke across his face was enough to bring tears to your eyes.  

“There she is,” He murmured, reaching up to brush a tear from your cheek. “That’s my girl.”  

You sniffled, your lips trembling as you whispered, “I thought you were mad at me.”  

Remus shook his head, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “Never,” he said firmly. “Not in a million years.”  

Lily bent down to kiss your other cheek, her voice gentle. “See? You’ve got us, love. Always.”  

James emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and unruly, wearing nothing but his Quidditch shorts that clung low on his hips. He ran a towel through his hair, a casual grin already forming as he took in the scene: Sirius sitting on the bed beside you, Remus crouched at your side, and Lily perched back in her chair with her knitting. The room was soft with warmth, but James immediately noticed the slight redness in your eyes and the protective way everyone had positioned themselves around you.

“Oi, what’s this?” James said, tossing his towel onto a nearby chair. He crossed the room with his usual exuberance, his hazel eyes flicking between all of you. “You’re all hogging her. My bed, my girl, my jersey- where’s my share of the attention?”

Lily raised an eyebrow, though a small smile played on her lips. “Potter, don’t start.”

James frowned, his gaze finally landing on you fully. His teasing faded the moment he saw the way you were curled into yourself, the oversized jersey swallowing your frame as you clutched it tightly. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning closer. “Hey, what’s going on?” His voice was softer now, full of concern. “You okay, love?”

Sirius leaned back, his playful smirk replaced by a rare seriousness. He exchanged a glance with Lily and Remus before turning back to James. “She’s having a rough one,” Sirius said, his voice low. “Feeling like she’s not enough.”

James’s brows shot up in shock before knitting together in confusion. “Not enough?” He turned his full attention to you, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? You- ”

He cut himself off, as if the thought was too absurd to finish. Instead, he shuffled closer, placing a hand over yours where it gripped his jersey. “Why would you ever think something like that?” His voice cracked slightly, the intensity of his feelings bleeding through. “You’re- Merlin, love, you’re everything. Don’t you know that?”

Your eyes welled up again, and you averted your gaze, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of their care. “You’re all out there, doing amazing things,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Graduated, working, making a difference. And I’m just... stuck. Still in school, not knowing what I’m doing with my life. I feel like I’ll never catch up to any of you.”

James looked like he’d been physically struck. He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked around at the others for help. “Did you hear that?” He finally asked, addressing the room as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “She thinks she’s not enough. Her.” He gestured toward you, his expression almost comically outraged. “How’s that possible?”

Lily sighed, placing her knitting aside. “We’re working on it, James,” She said gently. “But maybe you could use less dramatics and more comfort?”

James blinked, then seemed to deflate. He turned back to you, his hand now cradling your cheek. “You listen to me, and you listen good,” He said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “You are the bravest, kindest, most wonderful person I’ve ever met. You make every single one of us better just by being you. And I don’t care if you’re still in school or taking a break or deciding to be a bloody Muggle librarian- whatever you do, it’ll be brilliant, because you’re brilliant.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh despite yourself, and James’s eyes lit up. “There’s my girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “No one’s allowed to make you feel like you’re not enough, love. Not even you.”

Sirius snorted, though his grin was soft. “James Potter, defender of self-esteem. Who would’ve thought?”

Remus reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he gave James a knowing look. “For once, I’m not going to argue with him,” Remus said softly, his hand lingering against your cheek. “He’s right, you know. We wouldn’t be us without you.”

Lily leaned forward, her green eyes warm with affection. “And we’re not moving forward without you. You set your pace, sweetness, and we’ll match it. Always.”

James looked between them, then back at you, his grin returning. “See? We’re a package deal. You’re stuck with us, love. No escaping it.”

You couldn’t help but smile through your tears, the warmth of their unwavering love wrapping around you like a shield. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

“It's not too much?” You muttered, sinking into the sheets as James' arm wrapped around your middle. Muttering something to the others about hogging you. 

“What's that, my sweetness?” Lily furrowed her brow at you as you shied away from her look. 

“Having to.. do this. Dote on me every time even the slightest thing goes wrong.”

James froze, his arm tightening around you slightly as he processed your words. His hazel eyes widened in genuine confusion, and he blurted, “What?”

Sirius snorted, his smirk quickly turning to a full-on grin as he lounged back against the headboard. “She’s lost it,” he declared dramatically, waving a hand. “Thinks she’s a burden. Absolute nonsense.”

Remus gave him a mild look but didn’t disagree. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his hand still resting on yours. “Love,” he said softly, his voice carrying that calming steadiness you always found comforting. “Why would you ever think that? We want to take care of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tightening on James’s jersey. “It just feels like too much sometimes,” You admitted hesitantly. “Every time I feel like this... every time something goes wrong, it’s like you have to put everything on hold for me. I don’t want to be that person.”

Lily set down her knitting with deliberate care, her green eyes narrowing slightly- not in anger, but in the kind of determination that made it clear she wasn’t letting this go. “Sweetheart,” She said firmly, leaning forward. “Do you remember the first time we really talked? Before all of this- before we were close?”

You blinked at her, startled by the question. “I... kind of?”

Lily smiled faintly, though there was a bittersweetness in her expression. “It was in our dorm, during fifth year. I had just gotten a letter from Petunia.”

The memory slowly surfaced, and your heart ached at the thought. You remembered that night vividly now: Lily sitting on her bed, trembling with silent tears as she clutched a crumpled piece of parchment. You’d found her there, completely undone by her sister’s cruel words.  

“She’d written to tell me how much she hated me,” Lily continued, her voice soft but steady. “How I was a freak for being at Hogwarts. That I’d ruined everything for her. And I- I believed her, just for a moment. It was awful.”

You remembered sitting down beside her, your heart breaking for her pain. “I- I stayed with you,” you said quietly, piecing the memory together. “I hugged you, I think? And we talked for hours?”

Lily nodded, her smile softening. “You did more than that, love. You made me tea- awful tea, by the way, but I drank it anyway. And you told me stories about your family, about how proud they were of you, just to remind me that I had people who cared about me. You stayed up all night with me, even though I told you to go to bed.”

“I remember,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes again.

Lily reached over, her hand warm as it brushed against your knee. “You didn’t think it was too much then, did you? Taking care of me when I needed it?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not. You needed someone.”

“And now you do,” she said simply. “And we’re here. Just like you were for me. That’s what this is, love. It’s not about being too much. It’s about love.”

Remus’s soft chuckle broke the silence that followed Lily’s words, drawing your teary eyes toward him. He was leaning back slightly, his long fingers absently running along the edge of the blanket near your hand.

“Since we’re doing memory lane,” He began, his voice calm but with a faint note of regret, “do you remember that time in the boys’ dorm? It must’ve been third year. It was just us, and I snapped at you over- what was it? Something stupid. A book, I think?”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to place the memory. Slowly, the image came back: the two of you in the quiet of the boys’ dormitory, Remus unusually tense as he rummaged through his belongings. You’d picked up one of his books, curious, and asked an innocent question about it, only for him to lash out sharply- so unlike his usual gentle self.

“I remember,” you murmured softly. “You were really upset.”

“I was a complete prat,” He huffed, his amber eyes meeting yours with a mix of apology and gratitude. “It was a couple of days before the full moon, and I was already on edge, but you didn’t know that. Hell, none of you knew yet. And instead of being angry with me- or worse, scared- you stayed.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the rawness in his voice. “You looked like you needed someone,” you said simply, echoing Lily’s earlier words. “I could tell something was wrong.”

Remus’s lips quirked in a small smile, though his eyes shone with unshed emotion. “You didn��t just stay. You sat with me, kept asking gentle questions until I calmed down. You even brought me one of James’s chocolate frogs- though you tried to hide the wrapper like you hadn’t nicked it.”

A small laugh bubbled up from your throat, the memory vivid now. “I thought he’d notice if the stash got too low.”

“He definitely did,” Sirius interjected with a grin. “He’s still salty about it.”

Remus ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “The point is, you stayed when I didn’t deserve it. When I wasn’t kind, when I didn’t have the words to explain what was really wrong- you stayed. You always have.”

He leaned forward, his hand brushing against yours again, grounding you. “And now, it’s our turn. You don’t have to say the right thing or be the strong one. You don’t have to do anything but let us stay with you. Just like you did for me.”

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Instead, you nodded, your fingers brushing against his in a quiet acknowledgment. 

Sirius let out a low whistle, cutting through the quiet moment as he stretched out on the bed beside you. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was a softness to his expression that tempered it. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but tinged with something deeper, “if we’re sharing stories of how this one”- he nudged your arm gently- “has saved our sorry hides, I’ve got a good one.”

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Sirius smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m talking about how you pulled off the impossible- getting me and Regulus to talk without trying to hex each other.”

The memory came back slowly, hazy around the edges but vivid in its heart. You and Regulus had become friends in your third year, a surprising bond that Sirius had always half-envied, half-admired. Regulus had refused to speak to Sirius for years, his bitterness over his brother’s rebellion cutting deep. But on Sirius’s birthday in your fifth year, you’d orchestrated something you hadn’t even told him about until much later.

“You mean when I gave Regulus your gift?” You asked hesitantly, a flicker of guilt crossing your face. “I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do.”

“Didn’t know?” Sirius scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Love, it was brilliant. You handed him the gift and said- what was it again?” He snapped his fingers, grinning. “‘This doesn’t have to mean anything, but it might mean everything.’”

You flushed, your fingers tightening on James’s jersey. “I was just trying to make him see that you cared.”

Sirius’s grin softened, his voice dipping into something warmer, more sincere. “And he did. Merlin, he did. That was the first time we actually talked without shouting at each other. He came to me that night, you know? Told me about the gift- about you giving it to him. Said he’d been wrong about me.”

Your eyes widened. “He never told me that.”

Sirius nodded, his expression serious now. “He wouldn’t, would he? Too much like admitting he was wrong. But he did. And you- ” He leaned closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You were the one who made it happen. You gave me my brother back, even if it was just for a little while.”

You felt the sting of tears again, but Sirius’s grin returned, lighting up the room like it always did. “So don’t you dare think you’re too much, yeah? You’re just enough. Always have been.”

James, still holding you close, huffed dramatically. “Honestly, at this rate, we should start writing all this down. ‘A Hundred Ways She Saved Our Sorry Arses,’ by the Marauders and Co.”

Remus chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Might be a bestseller.”

James cleared his throat, his cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink as he glanced around the room. “Erm, well, like when she, uh, helped me with- ” He coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding everyone’s gaze.  

Lily perked up, her eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “Helped you with what, Potter?”  

“Nothing!” James blurted out quickly, his voice rising an octave. “Nothing at all! Definitely not learning how to- ”  

“Oh, this I’ve got to hear,” Sirius interjected with a wicked grin, sitting up straighter. “Come on, Prongs, out with it. What was it? Dancing lessons? Your terrible piano skills?”  

Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but said nothing, letting Sirius poke and prod instead.  

James groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before finally peeking through his fingers to look at you. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”  

You grinned softly, the smallest flicker of amusement breaking through the fog that had weighed you down all day. “Not a chance.”  

James sighed dramatically, throwing himself back against the headboard. “Fine! She- ” He paused, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself for impact. “She helped me learn how to kiss, all right?”  

There was a beat of stunned silence, followed by Sirius’s loud, delighted laughter. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. “You- what?” he choked out between fits of laughter. “She gave you kissing lessons? Oh, this is brilliant!”  

“Shut up, Padfoot!” James snapped, his face now a deep crimson. He turned to you, his hazel eyes pleading. “You’re not going to let him tease me forever about this, are you?”  

You bit back a laugh, the memory of that day rushing back to you like a warm breeze. “You were hopeless,” You said lightly, a teasing lilt in your voice.  

James groaned again, covering his face with both hands. “I wasn’t hopeless. I just... needed a bit of practice!”  

“Hopeless,” You repeated, grinning now as Lily let out a soft laugh.  

“What’s this about practice?” She asked, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.  

You leaned back against the pillows, feeling lighter than you had all day. “It was fifth year. James had this huge crush on someone- ”  

“Lily,” Sirius supplied gleefully.  

“Shut it!” James hissed, his ears turning pink now.  

“- and he was panicking because he’d never kissed anyone before,” you continued, ignoring James’s protests. “So, he asked me to help.”  

Sirius looked like Christmas had come early. “And you said yes? Oh, Prongs, you’re lucky she’s nicer than me. I would’ve hexed you for asking.”  

You laughed softly, your voice growing more confident. “It was actually really sweet. He was so nervous. I had to practically drag him to the Astronomy Tower so no one would see us.”  

“I’m right here, you know,” James grumbled, though his lips twitched with a reluctant smile.  

Remus chuckled quietly, his amber eyes warm as he listened. “So, how did it go?”  

You smirked at James, enjoying his obvious discomfort. “He was a fast learner. By the end of it, I think I told him he’d do just fine.”  

“You did,” James muttered, finally lowering his hands to reveal a sheepish grin. “And then you told me to stop panicking and just talk to her like a normal person.”  

“And did you?” Lily asked, her tone both amused and affectionate.  

James grinned, turning to her. “I think it worked out, don’t you?”  

Lily rolled her eyes but leaned over to kiss his cheek, her smile softening. “I suppose it did.”  

Sirius shook his head, still grinning. “Unbelievable. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re out here getting kissing lessons. Prongs, you’re a menace.”  

James shrugged, his grin widening. “You're just jealous I got to her first.”

Remus leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “And you didn’t charge him a single Galleon for the service? You’re too kind.”  

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It was worth it just to see him blush this much.”  

James groaned again, but the warmth and laughter in the room were undeniable, wrapping around you like a blanket. For the first time in a while, you felt lighter- like maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

As the laughter settled, you found yourself leaning into James’s embrace, the warmth of your loves surrounding you like a safety net you hadn’t realized you needed. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers yet, but with them by your side, you knew you’d figure it out- one day, one step, one laugh at a time.

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Headcannons: Nightcrawler // Sex

a/n: I'm almost out of ideas for headcannons, I wanted to pump out a few more just because they're easy for me to write and get used to writing specific characters. I promised more of our favorite blue teleporter so, here he is. These are fairly basic, for more descriptive or specific things they won't be in this format, more as actual fics instead of quick headcannons. Written as a gender-neutral reader. I hope you enjoy <3 Not edited please ignore grammar mistakes.

Minors DNI. 18+ under the cut.

Whether it's your first time in general or not, the first time sleeping with Kurt is something he takes very seriously. He wants to make sure you enjoy yourself, and he wants to make sure he doesn't hurt you.

He likes to make sure the set up is all done before you even come into the room. He goes all out for your first time, no hasty habits. He will keep in mind any preferences, but he will probably do something along the lines of candles or any scents you like in the room, soft mood lighting, and making sure everything is perfect.

"I did my best, liebling. Perhaps I have gone overboard..." he would mutter, a little embarrassed, but it was from the good of his heart.

Kurt likes to take his time with you, he begins with massaging you, wanting you to completely relaxed with him. His hands are soft yet firm and know just the right amount of pressure to do when he rubs you. "Relax, I will make sure you enjoy yourself tonight...just melt into me, ja?"

When he turns you on your back, he will lean down, softly kissing you. His lips are gentle and slow, feeling yours without the need to rush. Sensual kisses fill your senses as he continues to press into yours, his tongue shyly caressing your bottom lip before he pushes it inside.

His tongue explores your mouth, your tongue fights his with little force, you let him take the lead. He smiles against your lips as you try to playfully press against his tongue, finding it cute.

When he pulls back, those kisses increase and begin to travel down your body. He leaves hot kisses along your jaw and neck, suckling and biting lightly where he can, but being mindful of his sharp teeth.

The foreplay lasts a long time, he makes sure you have at least one orgasm before moving on to the main event of the night.

His cock is beading, gently rubbing himself up and down your entrance. "Are you ready for me?" he questions, placing a kiss to your temple, his cock head positioning and slowly pressing into you.

He inches slowly, hissing at the tightness, his cheek pressed against yours while his arms hold onto you. His tail cradles you as he sheaths himself to the hilt, he twitches and throbs inside you.

"Ah - mein Gott! You are squeezing so tight..." he rasps softly into you, his hips staying still for a few seconds so you can adjust to him before he pulls back and experimentally gives you one thrust. When he hears you moan, he takes that as encouragement and continues his thrusting at a steady speed.

His hands caress your hips and hold them as his own snap into yours. He lets out soft moans and pants, his thrusts are slow enough for you to feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. The feeling of him stretching you as he moves at such a perfect speed is intoxicating.

He leans over you, his legs press into the back of your thighs as his hips are driven a bit more, his cock pushing inside at a slightly rougher pace. He will go rougher and a little harder after a few minutes, or if you as him to.

"So needy, you have a gluttonous hole, you swallow me..." he looks down and watches himself disappear with each thrust. "You know, mein kleiner schatz, gluttony is a sin~"

He grins as he finds himself driving more and more into you, "Fret not, for I am a priest and I am more than capable of forgiving you of your sins..." he purrs, his fuzzy body gently grinding into yours as his thrusts increase.

He may flip you to a new position, he may not, depending on how intense the sex is becoming. For the most part, he does like to watch your face contort in pleasure, watching you blush and whine for him. He also likes getting the opportunity to kiss you whenever he can.

He makes sure you cum first. He will rub you or jerk you however he can. His hands gently massage your body and find those sweet spots that make you jerk beneath him. He goes until those pretty whines come from your lips and then he keeps it up until you are shaking through a powerful orgasm.

When he finally orgasms, he buries himself inside you and releases there, his jaw slack and his curly hair messy atop his head, his indigo cheeks blushed purple. Those pretty yellow eyes barely open as he stiffens with his orgasm, his back straining as he becomes rigid.

Two panting bodies, he looks down at you and smiles. His nose brushes yours as he shows you affection and love. "Ich liebe dich." he whispers, slowly pulling out and wrapping his arms around you, carrying you to the bathroom.

After some heavy clean up, he gives you a moment alone to do anything you might want privacy for, and he will make sure to ready the bedroom and clean up anything.

"This way, liebe...you were so wonderful...let me take care of you now." he whispers, guiding you to a clean bed and laying you down. He loves to hold you after everything is done, his hands rub up and down your body, any sore muscles taken care of by his gentle massages.

He can be quite fussy after sex, asking if you need a drink or something to eat, if you're comfortable, if you need anything at all. But you like how he is, it makes you feel all the more loved.

Eventually, the evening ends with you two sleeping with one another, you are tucked into his body as he holds you, his arms keeping you cradled against him, his nose buried in your hair or crook of your neck, and of course that tail is always wrapped around you somehow.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[angelremnants]

A Christmas to Cherish, A Yule to Remember l L. Laufeyson

summary : When tasked with organizing a holiday cultural exchange between Midgard and New Asgard, you face clashing traditions and unexpected connections. To foster goodwill, you plan a hybrid celebration that blends Christmas with Yule, inviting world leaders and dignitaries to experience Asgard's unique customs. However, hosting off-worlders, especially a skeptical Loki, proves challenging. His sarcasm only more adds tension as sparks begin to fly between you, testing your growing connection. As Yule and Christmas traditions collide, an unexpected kiss under the mistletoe might just be the season's most surprising twist.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, cultural clashes, emotional vulnerability, sarcastic banter, mild angst with eventual heartwarming fluff, some hurt/comfort, teasing, suggestive flirtation, references to holiday traditions, references to norse lore and traditions.

word count : 18.3k

author's notes : Ho ho ho! You didn’t think I would pass up the chance to write an Asgardian Christmas story, did you? I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard with this fic. What can I say? Santa’s spirit inspired me greatly. Well, this and jschlatt's christmas album.

Like my first ever Loki fic, this is loosely connected to the A Tales Of series (though in an AU way?) but can definitely be read as a stand-alone. This narrative is somewhat like a Hallmark movie, but let’s be honest: who would turn down a feel-good story, especially featuring our dear god of mischief?

As Gossip Girl once said, have a holly jolly Christmas, xoxo.

(ao3 version)

The snow-dusted village of New Asgard glimmered under the pale light of a crisp winter morning. Nestled along the rugged Norwegian coast, the settlement was a patchwork of old-world Asgardian charm and Midgardian practicality. Wooden houses stood sturdily against the biting wind, their roofs lined with faint traces of frost. Small boats bobbed gently in the harbor, and the faint hum of activity filled the air as Asgardians went about their lives. For you, this place was no stranger—it felt like stepping into a world both ancient and familiar, a realm that had become something of a second home.

Your arrival this time lacked the fanfare of your first visit. You stepped out of the rumbling helicopter onto the cobblestone square, the crunch of your boots against the frosty ground drawing a few curious glances from passersby. You adjusted the scarf around your neck, the chill of the air biting your cheeks as you scanned the familiar faces awaiting you. Your attire was both practical and stylish: a dark wool coat cinched at the waist accompanied by equally dark thigh stockings and combat boots, a deep burgundy scarf, and black gloves to ward off the cold.

Ever the picture of poise and authority, Brunnhilde stood at the forefront, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She wore a sleek leather jacket lined with fur, a modern touch to her otherwise warrior-like appearance. Beside her was Thor, his golden locks catching the sunlight as he waved enthusiastically, clad in a thick knit sweater that somehow managed to look regal, and slightly behind them, Loki, who looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Dressed in a dark green cloak over his tailored Asgardian tunic, his expression was one of perpetual exasperation.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Midgardian diplomat,” Brunnhilde called out, her voice carrying easily over the chatter of the square. “Welcome back, sweet cheeks.”

“Favorite? Or just the one who causes the most trouble?” Loki quipped, his tone dry as he adjusted his green-and-gold cloak. His sharp eyes lingered on you momentarily, taking in your wind-flushed cheeks and bright smile.

“Missed you too, Mischief,” you shot back with a grin, brushing past him to greet Brunnhilde with a brief hug.

Thor clapped a hand on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance with his exuberance. “It’s good to see you again, Lady [Y/N]! Come, you must be freezing. We’ve prepared a feast worthy of a returning friend.”

“I’m sure it’s as subtle as ever, big guy,” you teased, raising a brow. As you followed them towards the grand longhouse, you turned to Thor, a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “I thought you’d be off-world with the Guardians of the Galaxy. What brings you here?”

Thor shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Even the god of thunder needs a break, and what better place to rest than home? Besides, someone has to make sure these two don’t kill each other.”

“That’s reassuring,” you said dryly, earning a chuckle from Brunnhilde. “But I’m not here just for feasts. There’s a little diplomacy to be done too, remember?”

The newly appointed Allfather led the group toward the longhouse that served as New Asgard’s central hub. “We wouldn’t dream of letting you forget your duties. Though, knowing Thor, he might try to bribe you with ale and roasted boar.”

“Would it work?” Thor asked, grinning as he held open the door.

Inside, the longhouse was warm and inviting, its timber walls adorned with carvings that told stories of Asgardian history. Intricate designs of Asgardian history and the nine realms stretched across the beams, illuminated by the flicker of firelight. A large hearth roared at the center of the hall, its heat radiating outward and mingling with the smell of spiced mead and freshly baked bread. You let the warmth seep into your bones, feeling a sense of comfort you rarely found elsewhere.

You took a seat at the long wooden table, its surface polished to a high shine, the grain of the wood still bearing marks of its Asgardian craftsmanship. As you settled around the long wooden table, the conversation shifted naturally, the camaraderie among them making you feel like part of the family.

“We’re honored you could join us again,” Brunnhilde said, pouring you a cup of mead. “Especially so close to your Midgardian holiday—what is it called again? Christmas?”

“That’s the one,” you confirmed, taking a sip of the sweet drink. “It’s a huge, worldwide deal here. Lights, trees, gifts, food—basically everything Thor loves, but with more glitter.”

Thor laughed heartily. “Glitter sounds like a fine addition to any celebration!”

“Hardly,” Loki muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. “Leave it to Midgardians to turn a perfectly good winter solstice into a gaudy spectacle.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “You’re telling me Asgardians don’t have their own version of an over-the-top winter celebration?”

Loki exchanged a look with Thor, who chuckled sheepishly. “We do,” the blonde admitted. “It’s called Yule. But it’s not quite as… excessive as your Christmas. It’s more about tradition—feasting, storytelling, honoring the turning of the seasons. We celebrate every five years, given our longer lifespans.”

“Every five years?” you repeated, your brows lifting in surprise. “That’s… really long and sad to hear.” You mulled over the information before your eyes lit up as you sat straighter, as if struck by lightning. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. The United Nations and New Asgard have been strengthening ties through mutual aid, cultural exchange programs, and even security. But diplomacy shouldn’t just be treaties and meetings—it needs moments of connection. What better way than inviting emissaries from Midgard to experience Yule with you?”

Thor beamed, slapping the table. “Now that’s an idea worthy of Asgard!”

Loki’s scoff was almost immediate. “Ah yes, because what we need is another excuse for Thor to hang glittering baubles everywhere.”

“Don’t tempt me, brother,” Thor replied, his grin widening.

Ignoring Loki’s grumbling, you pressed on. “I’m serious. Think of it: world leaders, ambassadors, and cultural experts all coming together to witness your traditions while sharing ours. It’s symbolic—a reminder that Earth is now your home too. It’ll also facilitate recognition of your country’s borders from the neighboring countries, and God knows how much you need it for the UN to get off your asses.”

Brunnhilde nodded thoughtfully. “It would certainly help foster goodwill. But it’s not without its challenges. Hosting off-worlders isn’t exactly simple. Though organizing something like this would take effort. And volunteers.”

“I’ll handle the logistics,” you offered. “We’ll make it a hybrid celebration—Christmas and Yule, blending the best of both worlds. Think of it as creating a new tradition for New Asgard. We have three weeks at most for this, I’m sure we’ll manage to come up with something nice.”

Loki let out a soft, sarcastic laugh. “How charming. Perhaps we can also write jingles to serenade these dignitaries.”

Thor, however, seemed genuinely excited. “Brother, you must admit—this could be grand event. We can show Midgard our hospitality while learning from them in return. You should participate with us, especially considering your probation status.” He said brightly, clapping his brother on the back.

Loki’s expression darkened immediately. “I will do no such thing.”

“Oh, don't be such a wet blanket,” you teased. “Think of it as a way to get back into everyone’s good graces. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing?”

His sharp gaze met yours, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to crackle. “If I agree to this farce,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate, “it will not be because you’ve managed to guilt me into it.”

“Of course not,” you replied sweetly. “It’ll be because you secretly enjoy a good challenge.”

Brunnhilde leaned back in her chair, smirking as she watched the exchange. “Well, it’s settled then. [Y/N], you’re officially in charge of Christmas diplomacy. But don’t expect Loki to be helpful.”

Loki sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will end in disaster.”

“Only if you let it,” you said, your tone light but your eyes sparkling with determination. “Besides, a little festivities never hurt anyone.”

“You’re delusional if you think this will go smoothly,” he retorted, earning a laugh from Thor and a pointed look from Brunnhilde.

As the conversation wound down, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling inside you. This was going to be a holiday unlike any other—a melding of traditions, cultures, and worlds.

⠀

The royal library of New Asgard was a marvel of timeless craftsmanship and quiet grandeur. Its towering, vaulted ceilings bore intricate carvings of Asgardian myths, the golden threads in their design shimmering faintly under the glow of enchanted lamps. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves, brimming with ancient tomes and fragile scrolls, stretched upward as if reaching for the heavens. The air carried the faint scent of aged parchment and polished wood, a comforting reminder of centuries of preserved knowledge. Warm light illuminated the dark, ornately carved furniture, casting soft shadows that danced with a gentle flicker. It was a sanctuary of wisdom and serenity—and, at present, an arena of subtle conflict.

You sat at a large, circular table, its surface strewn with papers, notes, and an assortment of books ranging from Midgardian holiday traditions to Asgardian histories. You tapped your pen against the notebook in front of you, glancing across the table at Loki, who looked entirely unamused. He lounged in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, absently flipping through a book as if he couldn’t be less interested.

“This is supposed to be a brainstorming session,” you said, breaking the silence. “Not a sulking session.”

Loki didn’t look up, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “I assure you, I’m doing neither. I’m merely tolerating this… exercise in futility.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You mean the logistics for what could be one of the most culturally significant events New Asgard has hosted since its founding?”

“Culturally significant?” Loki echoed, finally looking up. His emerald eyes glimmered with amusement, though his tone remained dry. “You’re combining gaudy, Midgardian frivolities with centuries-old Asgardian tradition. Forgive me if I fail to see the ‘significance’ in that.”

“Excuse me—gaudy?” you repeated, mock-offended. “You say that as if Asgardians don’t have a penchant for drama and grandeur themselves. I’ve never seen more divas than you guys, actually.”

Loki smirked but said nothing, instead closing the book he had been flipping through with an exaggerated snap. He gestured to the pile of materials on the table. “Very well, enlighten me. Which Midgardian traditions are we meant to subject ourselves to this time? Ugly sweaters? Marshmallows floating in heated milk?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “First of all, ugly sweaters are iconic. Secondly, you can’t tell me that enchanted ale or Thor’s thunderous feast presentations aren’t Asgard’s version of over-the-top. It’s practically the same thing.”

“That’s debatable,” Loki tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll concede that Thor’s idea of revelry is... boisterous. But at least our celebrations have history, tradition, and dignity—unlike your chaotic, candy-cane-laden spectacles.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Oh, sure. Because nothing says ‘dignity’ like smashing a barrel of mead over someone’s head when you’ve had too much.”

He couldn’t suppress a chuckle, the rich sound echoing in the quiet library. “Touché. Still, I doubt you’ll find a single Midgardian festivity that rivals the elegance of an Asgardian Yule feast.”

“Well, then,” you said, leaning forward with a teasing glint in your eye. “Let’s make sure this one does. What do you say we blend the two? Grand Asgardian feast meets Midgardian charm.”

Loki tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if studying you. “If we are to make this ‘blend’ of yours work, it will require proper execution. I refuse to let Midgardian cuisine overshadow Asgardian delicacies.”

You smirked, folding your arms across your chest. “Who said anything about overshadowing? I’m just saying the two can complement each other—if you don’t insist on being so stubborn about it.”

“I am simply being practical,” he countered, feigning offense at the remark. “Your realm’s fascination with things like marshmallow-topped casseroles is... baffling.”

“Okay, first of all, not every dish is like that,” you retorted with a laugh. “Secondly, maybe you just haven’t had the right Midgardian food. Let me handle it, and you’ll see.”

Loki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugged at his lips. “Very well. If you’re so confident in your culinary abilities, I’ll leave the Midgardian fare to you. But don’t expect me to lift a finger if it turns into a disaster.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” you teased, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ll manage the Midgardian menu and decorations—after all, I’ve got experience with this sort of thing. And you can handle the Asgardian side of things. Deal?”

He regarded you for a moment, his emerald eyes gleaming with intrigue. “Deal. Though I expect nothing less than perfection on your part. Our reputation depends on it.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same to you,” you shot back with a grin.

Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s settled. I’ll curate a feast that embodies the grandeur and tradition of Asgard. You... can figure out how to make your chaotic cuisine somewhat palatable.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your laughter. “Whatever. We need to make this event big enough to fund itself. That means inviting not just the locals but foreign envoys, dignitaries, and even some of the press.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. “Ah, commercializing a solstice celebration. How very... Midgardian of you.”

You shrugged. “Well, we don’t have unlimited resources. Unless you’d like me to request funds from the treasury—and deal with Val’s budget lectures?”

“Perish the thought,” Loki muttered.

“Exactly,” you said, smirking. “So, we’ll sell tickets for the main events and some of the smaller ones leading up to the big day. Maybe even have booths with crafts and snacks. People love that kind of thing. You’d be surprised how much they’ll pay for something with a story behind it.”

“Fascinating,” he said dryly. “You’ve turned a festival of tradition into a marketplace.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you teased. “It’s just good planning. Besides, someone has to oversee the sales and ensure we don’t turn this into complete chaos.”

Loki arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “And naturally, you’ve decided that someone is you?”

“Of course,” you replied with mock seriousness. “I happen to be very good at multitasking. I’ll handle the ticket sales, the booths, and the Midgardian side of things while you can focus on maintaining Asgardian traditions. A win-win.”

“Convenient,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair. “You delegate the tedious work to me while you run your little market empire.”

You grinned. “It’s called playing to our strengths, Loki. And besides, don’t pretend you’re not secretly thrilled to have complete creative control over the Asgardian portion.”

Loki chuckled softly, his gaze sharpening with intrigue. “Very well, but if I’m to oversee Asgardian traditions, you’ll have to prepare yourself for customs far richer—and far more theatrical—than your quaint Midgardian charm.”

“Like what?” you challenged, leaning forward.

“For instance,” he began, his voice slipping into a storytelling tone, “the Wild Hunt. A tradition led by Odin himself, where ghostly riders swept across the skies in search of lost souls. It’s a spectacle of power, mysticism, and awe. Imagine recreating it, with shadowed steeds and ethereal warriors galloping through the night.”

You blinked, your expression shifting between amusement and concern. “You mean you want to reenact something that, if I recall correctly, terrified Midgardians for centuries? Sounds... subtle.”

His smirk widened. “Subtlety is overrated. The Hunt would remind everyone of Asgard’s grandeur, a symbol of tradition and strength. Besides, it’s far more engaging than watching mortals sing around a fireplace.”

“Oh, speaking of fireplaces,” you interjected quickly, “what about the Yule log? That’s one tradition I can get behind. A cozy fire, some mulled ale—it’s charming.”

Loki rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “The Yule log is passable at best, but it pales in comparison to the Wild Hunt’s grandeur. Imagine thunder rolling in the heavens, spectral figures cutting through the sky, and Odin’s name whispered in awe.”

“Yeah, because holiday cheer is guaranteed by scaring the wits out of everyone,” you replied, crossing your arms. “How about this—we tone it down? Maybe we could turn the Hunt into something interactive, like a quest. A game for everyone, where they follow clues and complete challenges to ‘join’ Odin’s riders or uncover their secrets. It keeps the mystique but makes it fun rather than terrifying.”

Loki tilted his head, considering your suggestion. “An interactive quest... intriguing. It could preserve the spirit of the Hunt while appealing to the masses. But I insist on weaving in Asgardian lore—stories of valor, wit, and cunning—so it isn’t entirely watered down.”

“Fine by me,” you said with a grin. “And while you’re at it, I’ll make sure the Yule log has its rightful place. Even if it’s not as ‘grand’ as the Hunt, some traditions are worth keeping simple. Maybe the quest could end with everyone gathering around the fire to share stories and rewards.”

Loki gave you a sidelong glance, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If we must. But I reserve the right to oversee every detail of this quest. If it fails, it’ll be because of your Midgardian ‘simplicity.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Speaking of Midgardian traditions, what about something for the children? Maybe they could write letters about their wishes for the new year. It’d be a way to honor the spirit of giving—and maybe a subtle nod to Odin. After all, he was considered a Santa-like figure back in the day.”

Loki’s expression darkened slightly, his teasing smirk fading. “A ‘Santa-like figure’? Is that how you choose to remember the All-Father? As some mortal caricature who doles out trinkets?”

You softened your tone. “It’s not about reducing him to that. It’s about creating a memorial that’s accessible to everyone—something heartfelt for the people, especially the children.”

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the table. “Children don’t need to write frivolous letters when they already have the tradition of storytelling. It was one of the few times we, as a people, passed down something meaningful. Stories that carried wisdom, courage, and strength.”

You noticed the melancholic edge to his voice, the faraway look in his eyes. “You miss it, don’t you? The way things used to be.”

Loki didn’t respond immediately, his fingers tracing the edge of a page in one of the books. “Asgard was flawed, but it was home. These traditions... they’re all fragments of a life we can never fully restore.”

You reached across the table, your hand brushing his. “Then let’s make sure those fragments shine as brightly as they can. We might not be able to bring back everything, but we can honor what mattered—and maybe even create something new along the way.”

His gaze lifted to yours, a flicker of gratitude softening his features. “You’re unbearably persistent, you know that?”

“And you’re unreasonably dramatic,” you replied with a teasing grin, leaning back in your chair. “Now, about those stories...”

You went on like this for nearly the entire evening, your playful banter echoing through the quiet halls. One idea led to another, each suggestion sparking either spirited debate or begrudging agreement, until most of the tasks were neatly divided between you. Somewhere along the way, it turned into a friendly competition—Midgardian ingenuity versus Asgardian grandeur. Loki, ever the perfectionist, declared that his half of the event would be a masterpiece of tradition and elegance, while you, with a teasing grin, promised to bring charm and creativity to yours. By the end of it, your rivalry was set, and the stakes were clear: whoever’s contributions won the most admiration during the celebration would earn the undeniable right to gloat.

Three days after the council meeting, New Asgard had been buzzing with excitement. Word of the upcoming celebration spread like wildfire, and the entire realm was invested in the planning. Everyone—from the youngest child to the oldest elder—had some part to play in bringing the festivities to life. The atmosphere was electric, filled with anticipation for the grand feast, the traditions, and the merging of Midgardian charm with Asgardian grandeur. The excitement was contagious, and for a brief moment, the people of New Asgard felt united in their mission to make this event unforgettable.

With only two and a half weeks left to pull everything together, things seemed to be running smoothly. The decorations were coming along, the entertainment had been secured, and the Midgardian food vendors had been booked. However, the first hiccup came when you checked in with the cooking team about the feast’s food supplies.

You walked into the grand kitchen, where the chatter of the chefs and cooks filled the air, the scent of spices and roasting meats already beginning to mingle in the warm atmosphere. You neared a table where several of the Asgardian head chefs were organizing inventory, noting down large quantities of food on a parchment. You could already smell the fragrant aromas of roasting meats and simmering stews. You had heard murmurs of excitement as they prepared the grand feast. However, when you glanced over the inventory list, your stomach dropped.

“Ah, my lady, good to see you,” said Thorvald, the head of the Asgardian cooking team, a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh and a fondness for rustic dishes. “We’ve made sure we have plenty of meat, and the roasts are looking excellent for the feast. Odin Allfather, bless his soul, would’ve approved of this spread!”

You scanned the numbers on the parchment and furrowed your brow. “This is... a lot of food, Thorvald. Too much, in fact. The quantities are well over the planned budget.”

“Ah, you worry too much, my friend!” Thorvald chuckled. “We want to give the people of New Asgard a true taste of our heritage, yes? We shall not scrimp on food—especially not when it’s for such an occasion!”

“That’s the problem, Thorvald,” you sighed. “We don’t have the funds to support all of this. I was told that the Asgardian part of the menu has far exceeded the budget we allocated for food. It’s going to require cuts—somewhere. And we can’t afford to cut corners with Midgardian elements just because the Asgardian offerings are more expensive.”

Thorvald blinked in surprise. “Cut some of our dishes? That is... not an easy thing to ask of me, my lady. I’ve spent weeks perfecting these recipes for the feast. These dishes are the soul of Asgardian culture!”

“I’m aware of that,” you replied, your tone strained. “But we have to balance the budget. You can’t expect the Midgardian side to be neglected. I’m going to have to speak to Loki about this.”

You left the kitchen with a heavy heart, your mind racing as you made your way to the main hall. As you passed through the stone corridors, you wondered who had approved such a large quantity of food. You assumed it had to be Thor—he had always been more enthusiastic about showcasing Asgardian culture, after all. But when you entered the hall, you spotted Loki deep in conversation with a few council members—Thrain and Freya. That’s when it hit you.

Of course. Loki.

Your steps slowed as you approached the trio. Loki glanced up as you neared, his usual sly smile spreading across his face. “Ah, darling, what a pleasant surprise. How are the preparations coming along?”

“Mischief,” you said, keeping your voice steady, “I just checked the food inventory. You’re over budget. The Asgardian portion alone is far too much. We’re going to need to cut back on something.”

Loki’s grin widened, though there was a glint of something almost mischievous in his eyes. “And what exactly is the problem?”

“You’re blowing the budget,” you said bluntly. “The quantities are ridiculous. You’ve put us in a bind, Loki. I can’t go back to the Midgardian vendors and explain that their share of the food is being cut so we can accommodate your... extravagance.”

Loki’s smile never faltered, and he leaned in slightly, as if savoring the moment. “Everything is permitted when it comes to Asgardian feasts, don’t you think? I had to make sure our food was sumptuous. If we’re going to impress our guests, we must do it right.”

You blinked, incredulous. “You did this? I thought it was Thor who went overboard with the food. But you—you—decided this was appropriate?”

“Indeed,” Loki replied, his tone light, yet his eyes sharp. “Thor is far too busy with other matters. He’s off delivering invitations to the world leaders. Someone had to make sure the Asgardian side was flawless.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “Loki, I don’t think you understand the issue. This isn’t just about impressing people. We have to balance both sides. If the Asgardian dishes are more expensive, we’ll have to trim something else to stay within budget.”

Loki’s expression hardened slightly, though he kept his composure. “I already told you—everything is permitted. The Asgardian food will be nothing short of magnificent. If that means cutting a corner somewhere else, so be it.”

“This isn’t a game, Loki!” you snapped, your patience thinning. “We agreed on a budget, and I won’t let you push the Midgardian side aside for your grandiose plans.”

Loki’s lips curled into a small smirk. “Very well, then. We’ll trim a few corners where it pleases you. But I’m telling you, it won’t be the same. Asgardian feasts are a tradition. And traditions don’t come cheap.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you make decisions like this,” you warned, your tone firm. “This is your best chance at redemption, Loki. Either we figure this out, or the entire celebration could be in jeopardy. I won’t let you sabotage everything.”

Loki held your gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, he gave a barely perceptible nod. “Fine. I’ll speak with Thorvald and see where we can adjust things. But don’t think this is over, [Y/N]. You’re too concerned with rules and budgets for your own good.”

“Rules and budgets keep everything in line,” you countered. “Without them, chaos follows. Just remember that when you try to pull off another stunt like this.”

With one last look, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving Loki standing with a sly smile, no doubt enjoying the brief conflict. As you left the hall, you knew the next few days would be even more challenging. But one thing was certain—you wouldn’t let him derail the celebration, no matter how much he tried to push his agenda.

⠀

It had been a few days since the food fiasco, and you had hoped the worst was behind you. Yet, when it came to the holiday festivities, a new challenge emerged. You had been put in charge of the decorations, a task you had anticipated would bring joy, but you hadn’t expected the clash of cultures to be so pronounced.

The Asgardians, with their love of grandiose displays, had created decorations featuring intricate carvings, golden accents, and shimmering lights. The Midgardians, on the other hand, had opted for a more homey approach: a mix of soft pastels, tinsel, and small handcrafted ornaments. It was a cacophony of styles that left the hall looking more like a battlefield than a festive wonderland.

You stood in the center of it all, rubbing your temples in frustration. There were a few standout pieces—like the Runestone Ornaments, which you had suggested to add a touch of Asgardian culture. The beautifully carved runes for good luck and blessings were meant to bring harmony, but they were far too overpowering against the gentle hues of the Midgardian decorations. Some of the Asgardians had even insisted on sun-shaped ornaments to bring a sense of warmth and light, while others had complained that they clashed with the more subdued Christmas tree lights.

But the real problem didn’t come until you began unpacking a box of mistletoe. You had seen the tradition in Midgardian homes and thought it would add a charming touch to the festivities. After all, kissing under the mistletoe was a beloved tradition for good fortune, something light-hearted to bring the Asgardians and Midgardians together.

You hung the first mistletoe up near the doorframe, stepping back to admire your handiwork. That’s when it happened.

Asgardians walking by froze in their tracks, staring wide-eyed at the sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently overhead. A few of them stiffened, exchanging uncomfortable glances. The tall Asgardian warrior and member of the council, Thrain, quickly turned and muttered something under his breath, visibly distressed.

“What’s going on?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“You... My lady, you’re hanging that?” Thrain asked in a low voice, his expression grim. “You do know what it means, don’t you?”

You blinked. “The mistletoe? Yeah, it’s a tradition where I come from. You kiss under it for good luck and good cheer during the holidays.”

Thrain’s face turned pale, and a few of the others stepped back cautiously.

“Bad luck, Lady [Y/N],” Thrain said with a sigh. “That’s not just a decoration. It’s a symbol of misfortune in Asgard.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Misfortune? How can a sprig of mistletoe be a symbol of misfortune?”

Thrain glanced around as if to make sure no one else could overhear. After a moment, he leaned in closer to you, his voice lowering. “It’s a long story... but the mistletoe reminds us of an event that happened many centuries ago. It all goes back to a farce Prince Loki pulled on one of our greatest commanders, Balder the Brave.”

You furrowed your brow. “What happened?”

Thrain glanced around again and then began telling the story. “Oh, he’s quite the trickster. This one wasn’t as bad as some of his other schemes, but it certainly caused a ruckus. It happened during a festival many years ago.”

You frowned. “I don’t doubt this behavior coming from him, but I still fail to see how a simple prank would create a ruckus over some plant.”

“One evening, during the midwinter festival,” Thrain continued, “Balder, one of our finest commanders at the time, had just returned victorious from a long campaign. Everyone was celebrating in the Great Hall. Prince Loki, as always, couldn’t resist a chance for a little mischief.”

You frowned. “What did he do?”

“He enchanted a sprig of mistletoe, knowing that Balder, proud as he was, would never let anyone get the better of him. He tricked him into standing under the mistletoe, and as the tradition goes, whoever is beneath it must perform a challenge or take on a task.”

You tilted your head. “A challenge?”

Thrain nodded. “Yes. The challenge was a bit harmless—nothing like what you’d expect. But Loki, ever the trickster, made sure it was something unexpected. He enchanted the mistletoe so that whoever stood under it would be compelled to challenge the nearest person to a game of strength, wit, or skill.”

You laughed. “That sounds fun, not dangerous.”

Thrain smiled but his eyes darkened a little. “It was comical... until it got out of hand. Balder, in his pride, ended up challenging Hodr, his brother, to a contest of wit. But because of Loki’s enchantment, neither of them could back down. The game grew more and more intense—what started as a harmless wager soon escalated into a full-on competition, with the entire hall watching them argue over the silliest things. The game became a battle of pride and ego, and by the end, it nearly caused a rift and a blood battle between the two brothers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A game of pride? Over mistletoe?”

“Exactly,” Thrain said, sighing. “It became a symbol of misplaced warfare rather than cheer. And since then, the mistletoe has been associated with that... heated contest. It’s seen as a bad omen for anyone who might fall into the trap of too much pride or too much competition.”

You frowned, considering the tale. “I didn’t know it had such a backstory. But I still think it’s a nice tradition. It’s about bringing people together, not creating rivalries.”

Thrain shook his head with a smile. “I suppose it’s not all bad. But many of us are cautious when it comes to mistletoe, considering its history.”

You smiled warmly, standing your ground. “I understand, but I’d like to carry on with the tradition. Maybe this time, it won’t be such a surprise. After all, it’s all in good fun. And, it’s a way to bring the Midgardian and Asgardian sides together.”

Before Thrain could say anything more, Loki casually strolled by, his ever-present grin spreading across his face as he overheard the conversation. He looked at you standing beneath the mistletoe, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, well,” Loki drawled, “looks like someone is trying to bring some of Midgard's cheer to Asgard, hmm?”

Thrain narrowed his eyes at Loki. “You’re the one to blame for this mess. You do remember what happened with the mistletoe and Balder, don’t you?”

You looked from Loki to Thrain. “So you don’t mind? I mean, you’re the one who started it.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping across his face. “I never said I minded. You’re more than welcome to give it a try, darling [Y/N]. I’ll just be here to watch the chaos unfold.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the grin from spreading. “Don’t act so smug, Loki. I’m just trying to bring some cheer around here.”

Loki leaned in a bit closer, his voice low and playful. “Oh, I’m sure it’s all in good fun. But if you’re going to hang mistletoe, you must be prepared for the consequences. After all, I did start this tradition with a bit of mischief. Who’s to say what might happen next?”

You gave him a pointed look, not backing down. “I’m not scared of a little mischief, Loki. And if anyone’s at risk of causing chaos around here, it’s you, not me.”

Loki’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, leaning in just enough for his voice to drop further. “Ah, but you’re the one daring enough to carry on the tradition, aren’t you? I’m just here to watch... and perhaps enjoy the show.”

Thrain raised an eyebrow at the playful exchange, clearly amused but also a bit wary of what would happen next.

You shot Loki a playful smile. “Well, I hope you found a good spot because everything is going to go as smoothly as a baby’s bottom. Just wait and see.”

Loki chuckled, stepping back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll be watching, indeed. But don’t be too disappointed if things don’t go exactly as planned.”

You didn’t back down. “We’ll see about that. And just so you know... I do like a bit of trickery in my holiday traditions.”

As Loki walked away, still laughing softly to himself, Thrain shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I see now... you’re not just abiding by mere traditions. You’re leading to misconduct.”

You grinned and hung the mistletoe with a flourish. “Maybe. But it’ll be fun. Besides, what’s a Christmas holiday without a little bit of naughtiness?”

With that, you carried on with your task, hanging the mistletoe, while Loki strolled off, still grinning as he watched from a distance.

⠀

As you walked briskly down the hall with a bundle of fairy lights in hand, you tried to shake off the growing frustration gnawing at you. It had been a long day filled with last-minute details, and the pressure was starting to mount. The grand hall was coming together with decorations now adorning every corner, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When you passed by the table where Loki was supposed to be organizing the gifts for the prestigious guests, you nearly stumbled.

The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks.

On the table laid haphazardly a collection of... unusual objects. You blinked, certain you had misread the situation.

The gifts were mismatched and meager, hardly fitting for the prestigious guests who would be attending the feast. They were strange—vastly different from anything you could imagine giving at such an important event.

There were intricately carved wooden figures, but they weren’t graceful or beautiful. One was a grotesque hybrid of a raven and a wolf, its features stretched and contorted as if trying too hard to be intimidating. Another was a stone, awkwardly shaped, with jagged edges and no real discernible design. You couldn’t tell if it was meant to represent a mountain, a fortress, or just... a rock.

Then, there were the vials—delicate glass tubes filled with what appeared to be tiny, glittering shards. There was a strange metallic sheen to them, as though they were meant to be potions. But it wasn’t something you could imagine anyone actually using. Certainly not the dignitaries they were expecting.

Your irritation bubbled up to the surface. You couldn’t imagine how these would be seen as a suitable gift, especially not for the dignitaries of Midgard.

“Loki?” you called, your voice a little sharper than you intended as you approached the table.

Loki glanced up from the strange wooden carving he was inspecting. His eyes lit up with that ever-present mischievous gleam, but his smile faltered when he saw the look on your face.

“Darling. I see you’ve found the gifts,” he said smoothly, clearly pleased with his work.

“Yes,” you said, your voice tight. “I have. And I’m... not sure what to make of them.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “What’s wrong with them?”

Your jaw tightened as you glanced from the wolf-raven hybrid to the glass vials, each one looking more out of place than the last. “Loki, these—these are not what I imagined. They’re... off-putting.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself but failing. “These are not appropriate for the guests we’re inviting. These are—” you pointed at the grotesque wooden figures “—bizarre.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting from playful to defensive. “I don’t understand,” he said, his tone cold now. “What’s wrong with them? They’re authentic Asgardian craftsmanship. I thought the Midgardians would appreciate such unique offerings.”

“Unique?” you snapped, your frustration spilling over. “These aren’t unique, Loki. They’re strange. Midgardians have a different taste in gifts, and you’re not exactly showing the best of Asgard here. Look at this! This is not something you give a king or queen!”

You gestured toward the awkwardly shaped stone again. “A rock? Really? And these vials—” you picked one up, nearly dropping it when the tiny shards inside shimmered in the light “—what even is this?”

Loki’s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Well, perhaps you Midgardians are more accustomed to giving mundane things like jewels or soft fabrics. But these gifts are symbolic of our realm’s might and history.”

You let out an exasperated breath, rubbing your temples as your stress levels rose. “Loki, gifts are about more than just showing off. It’s about connecting with the person you’re giving it to, about meaning. You can’t just throw a bunch of random objects together and call it a gift. They need to reflect the people you're giving them to—something personal, something that makes them feel seen. Not just... intimidating displays of power!”

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. “Are you telling me these aren’t worthy of Asgardian guests?” His voice was laced with mockery, but there was a hint of genuine confusion beneath it.

“Not worthy—appropriate,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin. “They need to fit the occasion! We need to think about the people we're giving them to, not just impress them with how ‘mighty’ Asgard is!”

Loki was silent for a moment, staring at the table of strange objects. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it doubt? No, it couldn’t be. But something about your words made him pause.

Finally, he exhaled slowly and raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you suggest I do? I am not accustomed to the delicate, personal gifts you Midgardians are so fond of.” He made air quotes around the word ‘personal’, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stood your ground, your voice tight. “For starters? Hand-carved wooden jewelry boxes, a set of hand-blown glass ornaments, fine, elegant cloaks, scrolls with inscriptions of peace and goodwill, or something more symbolic. Something that shows you’ve thought about the person receiving it, not just what’s flashy and ‘impressive’.”

Loki leaned against the table, crossing his arms, his gaze unreadable. “Hm. So, you want me to take all these—” He motioned toward the array of oddities. “And turn them into something bland and safe?”

“I want you to make something thoughtful,” you retorted, your voice sharp. “I’m not asking for ‘bland’. I’m asking you to take a moment and actually think about the people who’ll receive these gifts. Just because they’re from Asgard doesn’t mean they’ll automatically be appreciated.” You were starting to feel more and more on edge, but you didn’t back down.

Loki studied you for a long moment, his lips curling into that familiar, teasing smile. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I shall reconsider my gift choices. But I must say, I do find your attitude a bit... aggressive for something as simple as gift-giving.”

You didn’t smile. You glared at him, your chest tight with both frustration and exhaustion. “Maybe it’s the pressure of this entire event that’s making me a little on edge, Loki,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm. “You know, considering I’ve got a million things to handle, and your weird-ass gifts are not helping.”

Loki tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, so you admit you’re a little... stressed?” he teased, his voice dropping an octave.

You forced a smile, your tone sharp but controlled. “Stressed? No, irritated, and you’re the reason why.”

Loki laughed softly, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Well, I shall do my best to improve the situation. As you so kindly suggested.”

You shot him a final glare before turning on your heel, muttering under your breath. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Loki, still grinning, watched you walk away, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure you will, darling. You’ll see.”

⠀

The days were growing shorter, and the pressure was mounting. You had barely slept in the past few days, and you were starting to feel the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. As you stood in the hall, supervising the lights and sound systems for the grand celebration, you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming anticipation in the air. The event was drawing closer, and there were still so many things to check off your list.

You were adjusting a speaker, ensuring it was positioned properly, when you couldn’t resist. The temptation to hear the music was too much, so you quickly branched the speaker and connected your device. A soft click and then—Christmas carols filled the air. You smiled, satisfied with the sound quality, as the cheerful tunes resonated through the room. But your satisfaction was short-lived.

The room grew suddenly quieter, and a few Asgardians who had been nearby shot you disapproving looks. One of them, a stern-faced woman, crossed her arms and approached with a disapproving glare.

"You... put this on?" she asked, her tone tight. "This is not how we celebrate our Yule. This... commercialized nonsense. What is this Midgardian tradition you’ve chosen to impose upon us?"

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean? It’s just Christmas carols... The song is about goodwill and joy. It’s part of the festivities."

The woman shook her head sharply, clearly upset. “Yule is a sacred time for Asgardians. We do not need the influence of Midgard’s festivals to ruin it.” She turned on her heel, walking away, muttering something about traditions being lost.

The sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention, and soon you were surrounded by a small crowd of disapproving Asgardians. Your stomach sank as their frowns deepened. The more they gathered, the more agitated they became, and soon voices were rising in frustration.

“This is not the way we do things here!” one of them exclaimed. “You can’t just commercialize our holiday!”

“I never agreed to this,” another voice chimed in. “This is a travesty to our sacred traditions!”

Your pulse quickened, and your mind raced, but the words felt like they were getting jumbled in your head. You tried to speak, but the frustration in the room was suffocating. The weight of their disapproval settled heavily on your chest, and you felt the first stirrings of panic. You had tried to make everything perfect, to blend the two worlds, but it seemed you had miscalculated, and now you were drowning in the pressure. You took a deep breath, but it felt shallow, and your hands trembled slightly. This was going wrong. Everything was going wrong. You were failing—again. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Enough."

Brunnhilde, with her ever-present calm and authority, stepped forward, her eyes scanning the crowd with quiet dominance. The Asgardians fell silent, and though they clearly weren’t pleased, they respected the king's presence. She turned to you, offering a small, sympathetic smile before addressing the group.

“We are guests in Midgard’s customs, and we are also here to celebrate Yule,” the Valkyrie said, her voice firm. “You are welcome to honor your traditions, but we must also respect the customs of the land we are in. Lady [Y/N] meant no disrespect, but there are many ways to celebrate, and it’s important to find balance.” She glanced over her shoulder. “If you have concerns, I am happy to discuss them with you. But for now, let us all move forward in the spirit of the festivities. There is no need to argue further.”

The Asgardians grumbled but eventually nodded, dispersing with a few sideways glares. Brunnhilde turned back to you, her expression softening.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” she said quietly, once the crowd had broken up. “And I know it’s not easy. But you can’t let every little mishap break you down. You’re doing the best you can.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you again. “I just... I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Everything’s falling apart, Val. I thought this was going to go well, but—” You paused, your voice catching. “It feels like everything I try only makes things worse.”

The Valkyrie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not perfect, sweet cheeks. Of course you’re going to make mistakes. And you’re in charge of something that’s never been done before—of course, things will get complicated. But you can’t let it get to you like this. You have less than a week to go, and you need to pull yourself together. You can’t keep running to me for help every time something goes wrong. You’re more than capable of handling this.”

You gave her a strained smile, trying to hold back the frustration and exhaustion threatening to spill over. “I’ll do my best,” you said, though your voice was tired, worn. “I just want it to go well. For everyone.”

The Valkyrie's expression softened further, a knowing look in her eyes. “I know you do. You’ve put so much of yourself into this, and it won’t go unnoticed. But if you don’t take a moment to breathe and trust in your abilities, you’re going to burn out. So please, just... take a step back when you need to.”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in her words, even if you weren’t entirely convinced. “I’ll... I’ll try. Thank you, Val’.”

She gave you a warm smile, her eyes full of understanding. “That’s all anyone can ask for. You’re doing great, even if you don’t feel it. Just don’t forget to keep breathing.”

With a final pat on the shoulder, she turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, a little more grounded. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You had a week left—you could do this. You had to.

It was supposed to be the highlight of the festivities. The Christmas tree. Everyone had been looking forward to it—the centerpiece of the entire celebration. You had spent weeks planning for it. You had found the perfect tree—a towering Asgardian pine, with thick branches that would hold the glowing lights and ornaments just right. It was going to be the perfect way to end all the planning, a moment of beauty and unity.

But when you arrived at the hall that morning, ready to supervise the decorating, you froze in horror. The spot where the tree had once stood was now empty.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed through the room, looking everywhere, even behind the columns, but the tree was nowhere to be found. You moved faster, your panic growing.

“Where is it?” you muttered to yourself, voice rising with panic.

You turned the corner and saw a scene that made your stomach drop. The tree was... in pieces. Cut into sections, dragged across the floor, and stacked near the Yule log, ready to be burned. Your breath caught in your throat. The beautiful tree that had taken so long to pick, to care for, was now destined to be turned into kindling.

You stood frozen for a moment, staring at the pile of branches and needles.

You began to ask around, stopping the first Asgardian you saw. “What happened to the tree?” you demanded.

The person looked confused for a moment before answering, their voice careful. “Oh, the orders came down this morning. The tree was to be cut down and used for the Yule log. It’s been taken to be prepared for the fire tonight.”

Your blood ran cold. “What? No, that was the Christmas tree!” you said, your voice rising in disbelief. “Not for the Yule log. That was for decorating—”

Before you could finish, another Asgardian approached quickly, clearly out of breath. “The treasure hunt,” they said urgently. “It’s gone. It’s disappeared.”

The words hit you like a wave crashing over you. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted in horror, and your vision blurred as panic surged in your chest. You turned back toward the pile of cut branches and needles, but this time, you couldn’t stop the overwhelming flood of emotions.

“No! No, no, no…” you whispered, almost choking on the words. You couldn’t do this anymore. Your hands shook as you looked from the missing tree to the empty space where the treasure hunt should have been. You had worked so hard on every detail, every tradition. And now it was all falling apart.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized just how much was slipping through your fingers. The pressure, the endless demands, the mistakes you couldn’t control. Everything you had worked for—everything you had poured your energy into—was unraveling before your eyes.

Without thinking, you screamed in frustration, the sound of it echoing in the empty hall.

“This is insane!” you shouted, your voice breaking. Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you fought to keep yourself from completely losing it.

As your outburst rang through the room, you realized a small crowd had gathered. They were watching you, exchanging glances. You could see the looks of confusion, even pity, but it was too much. Too much to bear.

You spun toward Loki, who had appeared in the doorway, clearly having heard the commotion. The sight of him was the last straw.

“You!” you yelled, your eyes blazing with fury. “This is your fault, isn’t it? You’re the one who gave the order to cut down the tree, aren't you?”

Loki didn’t flinch, his expression calm as ever, though his eyes narrowed slightly at your tone. “How kind of you to assume it originates from me,” he answered smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a tree. It wasn’t going to last anyway.”

“No!” you snapped, your voice cracking. “It was supposed to be the Christmas tree! This was supposed to be the centerpiece of the entire festival, and now it’s—gone! Everything is falling apart!”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused by your outburst. “I’m not sure what you’re upset about, darling. It’s just a tree. We have plenty of others.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “And as for the treasure hunt... perhaps it’s just better you move on.”

The words felt like a slap to your already fragile state. You were barely holding yourself together. “You don’t get it! Do you even know about how much effort I’ve put into this?” you cried, your voice shaking with frustration. 

Before you could continue, the Asgardian who had spoken earlier came rushing in again, their face full of urgency. “The treasure hunt—there was another problem. The maps and clues were taken. We can’t find any of it!”

You stood there, your mind reeling, your entire body trembling as the weight of everything you had been carrying finally broke through. You were suffocating under the pressure.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, voice barely audible. Your chest heaved as tears began to burn at the corners of your eyes. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness—it all collided inside you, and you couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Loki, standing calmly in front of you, regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You need to calm down, [Y/N]. It’s just a few mistakes. We’ll fix it.”

“You don’t get it!” you shouted at him, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re the one who screwed this all up!” You were shaking now, your entire body trembling from the storm of feelings threatening to consume you. “I’ve been working so hard to make this perfect, and you—you just came in and ruined everything!”

Loki’s calm demeanor didn’t change, though there was a flash of something like annoyance in his eyes. “Enough,” he said simply. “You need a break.”

Before you could respond, Loki encased one of your arms with his hand, and suddenly, the world around you disappeared in a rush of swirling light. The noise, the chaos, the pressure—all of it vanished as you were transported far from the hall, away from the mess.

Thor, who had just returned from handing out the invitations, stepped into the hall, ready to greet the others and take in the progress. His cheerful mood faltered however when he saw the tension in the air. Brunnhilde stepped in front of him quickly, her presence a calming force.

“Thor,” she said softly, “don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. The tree and the treasure hunt will be set right.”

Thor frowned but nodded slowly, trusting her judgment. “What happened?”

“Leave it to me,” She replied with a reassuring smile. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Just give us a little time, and everything will be in order.”

Thor sighed, his face softening. “Alright. Just... make sure everything is alright.”

The valkyrie gave him a firm nod. “It’ll be fine. We’ll handle it.”

⠀

The sudden rush of magic had barely settled when your power surged inside you, raw and untamed. Your emotions, a swirling storm of anger, frustration, and fear, acted like a catalyst, and without warning, your armor materialized around you—jagged and radiant, the energy radiating from you like a tempest.

The environment was eerily quiet, isolated from the hustle of the main celebration preparations. The corner they were in was a secluded stretch of rocky outcrop nestled between tall, jagged trees that seemed to protect the area from view. The ground beneath them was soft with moss and small, scattered leaves. A few low stone walls were partly overgrown with ivy, adding to the sense that this was an untouched space, perfect for moments away from the prying eyes of others.

Your frustration boiled over. “You!” you screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki. “This is your fault!” Your voice was raw with rage, and the air around them crackled with your energy as you lunged at him.

Loki blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden eruption of power. He barely had time to react before you lunged at him, your armor glowing with destructive energy. “I told you to take it seriously!” you yelled, your voice hoarse, as you swung an energy-charged fist toward him.

Loki, still calm despite your fury, sidestepped the attack easily, but he wasn’t expecting the ferocity of your movements. “For Norn’s sake, calm down,” he exclaimed, dodging another strike, his voice measured. “You’re losing it!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you spat, your energy only intensifying. You launched yourself at him again, this time in a flurry of punches and energy blasts that tore through the air. Each time Loki parried, it only made you angrier, and you screamed in frustration, the energy from your armor flaring brighter. The surrounding trees shuddered in response to the intensity.

Loki’s face hardened with determination as he blocked your energy with his seiðr, deflecting your blows. “You need to stop this,” he said, barely dodging another attack. His voice tinged with something more serious than usual. “I know you’re angry, but this won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t care!” you shouted, charging forward again, your movements fueled by raw, uncontrolled power. Each punch you threw left ripples in the air, crackling with auroral energy. The moss beneath their feet quivered under the force, and distant birds flew away in alarm.

Loki, his expression tightening, continued to dodge your strikes, his calm demeanor beginning to crack. “You don’t need to do this. Control yourself, you’re letting your emotions take over.”

“Everything is falling apart!” you yelled back, your eyes blazing with power. “I worked so hard for this and it’s all crumbling! I don’t even know what to do anymore!”

The wind picked up around them, swirling the fallen leaves into a frenzy. Loki's stance grew more defensive, his magic weaving through the air to deflect your blows. “I understand that, but lashing out won’t make it better,” he countered, his eyes flashing as his powers met yours in the charged atmosphere. “Destroying yourself over this won’t help either.”

You recoiled slightly, eyes wild, but there was a flash of uncertainty in them now. Another blast of energy shot from your hands, missing Loki only by a hair. But this time, the force of your attack wasn’t matched by the fury you had before. The anger was still there, but it was beginning to dissipate, replaced by sheer exhaustion.

Your attacks slowed, and you found yourself dropping to your knees, the heavy weight of your emotions finally catching up to you. You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving. The power surrounding you flickered and began to fade as your energy drained. Your armor seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only your trembling form.

You pulled your knees to your chest, your body curled inwards as your arms wrapped around yourself. Tears started to fall, hot and fast, as everything you had been bottling up poured out in sobs. You didn’t even try to stop them. You felt broken, like all the pressure and expectations had crushed you, and there was nothing left but this overwhelming, suffocating exhaustion.

Loki watched silently, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you. You had been so strong, so determined, and now you were crumpled in front of him, vulnerable in a way he had rarely seen before.

“Darling,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual edge. He took a step forward, his tone gentler than it had been all day. “I didn’t want you to get to this point. But you’re not alone. You never have to be alone in this.”

You sniffled, your voice breaking as you spoke through your tears. “Shut up. I tried so hard… But—But nothing is going right and—and I can’t keep pretending like I’ve got everything under control.”

You sat quietly, your head resting on your knees as the last remnants of your armor faded away. The hum of the distant festivities was a dull echo compared to the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you moments ago. Loki remained beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving you, watching you carefully as if gauging when to speak.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they were both taking a breath, letting the tension of the moment settle before moving forward.

Finally, Loki shifted slightly, lowering himself to sit beside you. He rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his usual playful demeanor absent for once.

“You know,” he began softly, his voice a comforting murmur in the quiet space between them, “I’ve seen many things in my time—more than most can fathom. But there is one thing about Yule that has always amused me.”

You glanced up at him, the exhaustion in your eyes still clear, but there was a small flicker of curiosity and apprehension in them as you met his gaze. Loki smiled faintly, leaning back slightly to get more comfortable. He seemed to take a breath before he began, his tone easing into something reminiscent of a tale he had long since retold to himself.

“When I was younger, and Asgard still celebrated Yule in its true, ancient form, there was a tradition... one that many might call ‘foolish’ now,” he began, a glint of mischief creeping into his voice. “We used to have a grand competition every year—a Yule feast, yes, but with a twist. It wasn’t just about who could decorate the best or bring the finest gifts. No, it was about who could make the best ‘Yule pudding.’”

You looked at him with a raised brow, unimpressed. “Yule pudding?”

Loki nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he continued. “Yes. It was an Asgardian delicacy, made from all sorts of strange and exotic ingredients—some of which were better left unspoken of. The twist, however, was that everyone’s pudding had to be kept a secret until the feast began. The idea was that the other competitors would be surprised, even horrified, by what they found in their bowls.” He gave you a playful, knowing look. “And trust me, some of the ingredients were... less than appealing.”

You slightly tilted your head up, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “So... did anyone actually win?”

“Oh, yes,” Loki chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a familiar mischief that was comforting, even in the current tense atmosphere. “But not in the way you’d expect. The prize was a crown, yes, but the true victory came from seeing the faces of the other competitors. You know, nothing is more satisfying than watching the mightiest warriors of Asgard choke down something so vile... all for the sake of tradition.”

You couldn’t help but let out a scoff at the image he painted, the tension in your shoulders easing for the first time that evening. “I can’t believe you used to get people to eat that stuff,” you said, shaking your head, though the corners of your lips twitched into a small smile.

Loki’s grin softened at the sound of your laughter, and he leaned a little closer to you, resting his arm across his knee. “I may have been a bit of a... troublemaker,” he said with a small shrug. “But the real lesson was the spirit of Yule itself—not in the feasts or the gifts, but in the laughter and joy that followed. Even in the worst moments, there is light to be found.” He glanced at you, his voice dropping to a quieter, more serious tone. “Even now, during times like this. What matters is not how perfect everything is, but how we come together, despite it all.”

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in, but it was the warm look in his eyes that made your heart settle. It was an understanding you hadn’t expected, and for the first time since the pressure began to mount, you felt a little less alone in your frustration.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your breath steadying. The soft comfort of his presence, the closeness, and the warmth of his energy settled the lingering chaos inside you.

Loki’s posture stiffened for a moment, surprised, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself a small smile, his fingers lightly brushing against your forearm as if offering silent reassurance. “Better?”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment as you nodded, allowing yourself to rest in the calm space he’d created. “Yeah. Thank you, Mischief.” You paused, your voice quieter. “I’m still angry with you, though.”

He chuckled, though there was an apologetic undertone in his laughter. “I know,” he replied softly, his hand finding hers, the contact warm and comforting. “And… I apologize. I should have thought more carefully about how things would turn out, but as you know, I never could resist pushing your buttons.”

You gave a half-hearted smile, your eyes still closed as you rested your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, I noticed that alright. I guess I’ll have to be more careful around you in the future when it comes to important duty stuff.”

“I’ll consider this a compliment,” he said with a sly smirk, though the softness in his tone betrayed his true feelings. “I never did well with being ignored.”

You let out a small laugh, your shoulders relaxing fully now. The tension you’d carried for so long seemed to ease with each word he spoke, each breath he took. “I could’ve never have guessed,” you said teasingly, lifting your head to glance at him. Your gaze softened as you looked into his eyes. “But truly, thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Loki’s lips curled into a small, sly smile as he looked at you. “I suppose even I, the magnificent and benevolent god that I am, cannot resist the allure of your stubbornness,” he said with a mockingly grandiose tone.

You stayed seated, the world around you hushed, save for the gentle rustling of the snow and the occasional sound of distant footsteps. The snow blanketed everything in serene stillness, creating a peaceful atmosphere that made it feel as though you were in a world of your own, far removed from the stress of the impending festivities.

Loki, still holding your hand without realizing it, gently rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. The touch was comforting, soothing in its quiet rhythm, as if trying to calm the lingering tension in both of you. You didn’t speak for a while, content in the peacefulness of the moment.

You sat there, side by side, the stillness of the world around you filling the space between you with an unspoken connection. The flakes of snow continued to drift down around you, their quiet dance a gentle reminder of the calm you shared.

You glanced at him, your heart beating a little faster than usual. You weren’t sure if it was the cold, or something else, but your cheeks felt warmer, and when you looked at Loki, he seemed to be feeling the same quiet shift between you. Your fingers remained intertwined, a small, unnoticed act of closeness that neither of you questioned.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both content in each other's company as the world around you continued to fall into the winter stillness. The silence felt comfortable now, and neither of you was in a hurry to leave it.

As the minutes passed, you felt the cold slowly creeping back into your bones, a shiver running through you. You glanced at Loki and saw that his eyes had softened, watching you carefully. He felt it too, the quiet coldness in the air.

Loki, still with his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, looked at you for a moment before speaking again. “I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome here. Let’s get you back before someone else decides to accidentally destroy something.”

You let out a small laugh, this time free of the weight you’d carried for so long. You felt lighter—easier. You stood up and offered him your hand, which he took with an ease that made the whole moment feel just right. “Can’t wait to see what other problem awaits us,” you answered sarcastically, a small smile on your lips.

You had said "us"—a small word, but one that meant a lot in this moment. The connection between you, the quiet bond you shared, felt even more solid in the simplicity of it.

When you finally stood, neither of you noticed how your hands were still clasped together. It was only when you began walking back toward the hall that the warmth of your intertwined hands made you realize just how natural it felt. Neither of you spoke of it, but both knew that something had shifted. Neither of you knew if your cheeks were flushed from the cold, or from something else entirely, but neither of you minded.

The sound of your footsteps blended with the soft echo of the falling snow as you made your way back, the world around you still and serene, leaving you alone in your thoughts and the shared comfort of each other's presence.

The first thing you noticed upon waking the next morning was the soft, golden light spilling through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The warmth was a welcome contrast to the cool air of the hall you’d fallen asleep in, and you slowly stretched, your body sore from the events of the previous day. Your mind was still clouded with memories of the chaos—broken decorations, missing trees, disorganized gifts. A faint sense of panic clawed at your chest, but as you sat up, you realized the quiet hum of activity had returned to the castle.

You wiped your face with the back of your hand, trying to shake off the weight of the previous day’s exhaustion. It was hard to believe it had all come to a head the night before—one misstep after another, and yet, here you were, still alive and breathing.

When you pushed yourself up from the bed and stepped into the hallway, you found it quieter than usual. The usual hustle and bustle of the Yule preparations had faded into the background. Your feet carried you instinctively toward the great hall, but when you stepped inside, your breath caught in your throat. The hall had transformed overnight.

Where there had been scattered remnants of undone decorations and unfinished projects, now there were beautifully decorated trees, glowing with twinkling lights. The large, grand Yule tree, full of shimmering baubles and sparkling tinsel, stood proudly near the center of the hall, towering over the tables. Garlands of holly and ivy draped across every surface, and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and roasting meats filled the air.

But despite the stunning transformation, your heart still raced. You looked around with wide eyes, trying to take in everything, but it only seemed to make your nerves flare up.

“Where is everything?” you muttered under your breath, mostly to yourself, but the words were tinged with a hint of anxiety. Had they truly fixed everything? The tree looked perfect—tall, regal, and sturdy—but was it the right one? You had been so frantic, you hadn’t even stopped to look at it properly.

Your footsteps quickened, and you moved to the table where the feast had been laid out. Platters of food, colorful and hearty, were stacked in layers of decadent variety. The bread, the pastries, the meats… everything looked impeccable. Had they managed to get everything right? What if something had been missed?

“[Y/N],” came Valkyrie’s voice, drawing your attention. You looked up to see her walking toward you with a teasing grin. “Good morning. I see you’re already making your rounds.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to appear calm as you turned toward her. “I just—I just want to make sure everything’s in order,” you said, though your tone was strained. “The tree... it’s the right one, isn’t it? And the feast—did we get everything? We can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”

The Valkyrie arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got a lot of fretting to do, don’t you? You need to take a break. Everything is done. The tree is perfect, the decorations are all set, and the feast... well, the Asgardian delicacies are sure to make an impression. Relax.”

You hesitated, eyes scanning the room again, but the weight of the last few days, added to your constant sense of responsibility, didn’t allow you to settle so easily. “But what about the gifts? Did Loki handle everything? And the—the treasure hunt?”

Brunnhilde gave a small chuckle. “Oh, the treasure hunt is a... success,” she said, the way she said it making you feel slightly apprehensive. “Though, I must admit, I didn’t expect the children to raid the chocolate stash as thoroughly as they did. I’m still trying to figure out how the entire chest went missing, but they found the treasure in the end, and I think that’s what matters.”

“Wait, the chocolates—” you froze, then sighed. “Of course. Of course, they ate it all.”

She smirked. “At least they found it,” she added with a shrug. “But that’s all handled. You’ve done your part. Now, you can rest.”

“I can’t rest,” you muttered, glancing over at the corner of the hall where a few last-minute touches were still needed. “There’s still the lights to check, and the candles—what if they’re uneven? What if the guests don’t like the decorations?”

The Valkyrie watched you for a moment, her expression softening slightly. She walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice becoming more serious. “Listen to me, sweet cheeks. You’ve been working nonstop for days. Everything is taken care of. It’s all ready. All that’s left for you to do is enjoy it.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. You knew you were overthinking everything, but it was hard to shake off the anxiety that had built up during the previous days. You had put so much pressure on yourself, and the idea of something going wrong—again—made your stomach twist.

But Brunnhilde was right. Everything was perfect. You had helped put it all together, and now all you had to do was step back and enjoy it. No more fretting.

With a deep sigh, you finally nodded. “You’re right. I just... I can’t help it.” You rubbed your temples. “I’ll try to rest for a bit.”

She grinned and gave you a playful shove toward the seating area. “Good. Now go take a break. Everything is in order. We’ve got this.”

Your steps slowed, and you made your way to the chairs near the fireplace, feeling lighter with each step. It was hard to let go of the responsibility, but in that quiet moment, with everything taken care of, you could finally breathe a little easier.

As you sank into the warmth of the chair and allowed yourself to close your eyes for just a moment, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The rest of the day would be filled with festivities, joy, and laughter. The Yule festival was coming soon. And this time, you could enjoy it without the weight of worry on your shoulders.

⠀

The royal library had been deemed a perfect spot for the traditional storytelling to take place. The shelves lined with ancient tomes and scrolls seemed to add an air of mystique to the already enchanting setting. Children crowded around Loki, sitting cross-legged on the floor, their eyes wide with curiosity. Even a few of the adults had gathered, drawn in by the sheer magnetism of his presence.

You stood near the doorway, watching quietly from the sidelines. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you—Loki, the formidable god of mischief, captivating the room with his magic. His voice was deep and resonant, laced with humor, as he began weaving his tale.

“And so, there I was,” he began, gesturing dramatically with one hand, “standing atop the great peak of Jotunheim, facing down an entire army of giants. The cold bit at my skin, but did I flinch?” He paused, his lips curling into a playful grin. “Of course not. I am Loki, the trickster god, the one who—”

The children erupted in giggles, and Loki’s grin widened. With a snap of his fingers, the air around him shimmered with a faint green glow. He conjured an illusion of a massive ice giant, towering above the group, its icy form glowing ominously. The kids gasped in awe, eyes glued to the spectacle.

“Fear not, young ones!” Loki’s voice boomed as he summoned another flick of magic, and the giant began to shrink. “I wasn’t about to let a little thing like that scare me. With one swift move, I tricked them into thinking they’d already won. I am a god, after all.”

As he spoke, his illusions shifted with every word—mighty warriors battling against beasts, massive serpents coiling around towering castles, and fire-breathing dragons soaring across the sky. The magic seemed to come alive with every flick of his wrist, each new image more mesmerizing than the last.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. It wasn’t just the magic—though it was impressive—it was the way Loki moved, the way he commanded the room. There was something about him in these moments, his charm and wit flowing effortlessly, drawing even the adults in.

His eyes met yours for a fleeting second as he continued his tale, and you felt your heart skip a beat. There was something oddly endearing about watching him perform for the children. He was so... alive. His usual smirk softened in these moments, replaced by a deep sense of contentment as he captivated his audience.

“You know, the trick to deceiving giants,” Loki continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially as the children leaned in closer, “is not in strength, but in the art of persuasion. They believed me when I said the sun had risen on their kingdom. But I knew better. The sun? It wasn’t even close to rising.” He chuckled darkly. “I’ll spare you the details of the real trick, but let’s just say... they learned to always listen to Loki.”

A few of the children laughed and clapped, clearly entranced by the story, while the adults looked on with amused smiles. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him from your position by the doorway, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest.

“That was quite the tale,” Brunnhilde said, stepping up behind you with a playful grin. “I didn’t realize you were so captivated by Loki’s antics.”

You turned quickly, caught off guard by her teasing. “What?” you asked, your cheeks heating slightly as you tried to hide the warmth spreading through your chest. “I’m just... enjoying the story.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation. “Mm-hmm, enjoying it quite a lot, I see. You know, if you’re really into the storytelling, you could always go sit on Loki’s lap, like the Midgardian children do with Santa. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” She smirked, nudging you playfully.

You flushed, rolling your eyes as you tried to cover up your flustered state. “I’m fine where I am, thank you,” you said, though your gaze lingered on Loki at the center of the room. Your heart fluttered a little as you watched him, and you quickly turned away to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

As the story continued, Loki’s hands wove through the air, creating glowing, animated figures with his seiðr. He made the children laugh, gasp, and even squeal with excitement as dragons flew overhead and kingdoms were overthrown. Each tale he told seemed to be tailored to his young audience, but you couldn’t help but notice how the adults—yourself included—were just as mesmerized by him.

You shifted slightly, and your eyes caught on one of the floating illusions—a massive serpent coiling around a castle tower. For a moment, you thought it looked almost... real. You blinked and glanced at Loki, noticing the slight tilt of his head as he continued to spin his tale.

Your heart skipped again.

“So,” The Valkyrie said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “What do you think? Still not interested in the man behind the magic?”

You shot her an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?” you hissed under your breath. “I told you, I’m just here for the storytelling.”

“Sure you are,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, but deep down, you felt a quiet warmth in your chest. Brunnhilde's teasing aside, there was something undeniable about the way Loki commanded the room. You were captivated, and you didn’t think there was any shame in admitting it.

Finally, after several more stories, Loki ended his performance with a dramatic flourish. The children clapped, their cheers echoing through the grand library.

“At ease,” he said, bowing slightly, “I hope you all enjoyed the tale. It’s not every day you get to hear the true version of events, after all.” He gave the children a wink before turning toward the adults. “Now, my dear friends, it’s time to take a break and prepare for the real festivities to begin.”

You stepped back as Loki turned toward you, still basking in the glow of the applause. He caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly. He seemed so at ease in his element—charming, playful, and utterly captivating.

The Valkyrie’s teasing voice broke through your thoughts again. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club to be a part of,” she whispered with a sly grin.

You could only chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, hush."

But as Loki’s gaze met yours once more, you felt something stir in your chest—a connection you couldn’t quite put into words. For all his mischief and tricks, something was endearing about the way he made the world around him brighter, even if it was just for a moment.

⠀

The grand hall was alive with the soft hum of conversation and laughter, but amid the lively atmosphere, you found yourself quietly drawn toward the Yule tree. Its towering branches were adorned with delicate glass ornaments, shimmering ribbons, and lights that cast a soft, magical glow throughout the room. You stood before it, mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

But as you stepped closer, your attention was caught by something unexpected. Among the glittering baubles and tinsel were small, folded papers tied with delicate strings, hanging just like ornaments. At first, you thought they were part of the decorations, but as you leaned in to examine them, you realized they were letters—each one carefully placed with intention. Curiosity piqued, you gently plucked one from the tree and unfolded it.

The first letter was simple, the handwriting of a child: I wish for a pet dragon, even if it’s small. You smiled softly, your heartwarming at the innocent wish. You moved to the next one, your fingers tracing the fragile paper. I wish for snow to never stop falling, so I can play forever. Each note seemed to carry with it a small, pure hope, a wish that felt timeless and untouched by the complications of the world.

You let out a quiet laugh, glancing at another letter. I wish for more sweets at the feast tomorrow. That one made you grin wider—something about it felt so wonderfully human, so relatable in its simplicity.

“You seem to be enjoying those.” The voice startled you, and you turned to find Loki standing just behind you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was a certain softness to his gaze as he watched you, a subtle pride that he didn’t always show.

You raised an eyebrow, still holding the letter in your hand. “What is this? Some sort of... Yule tree tradition I wasn’t aware of?”

Loki’s expression shifted, and he looked almost bashful for a moment. “It’s new. After the storytelling, I thought it might be a good idea for the children to write down their wishes. I gave them the task of hanging them on the tree, hoping the magic of the season might make them come true.”

You blinked, surprised. “You—did you get the children to do this?” You shook your head, your tone softening as you looked at him in a way you hadn’t before. “That’s... a really thoughtful gesture, Loki.”

“I may have a flair for splendor,” Loki admitted with a small shrug, his voice laced with both humility and pride, “but even I can recognize the value of sincerity. Not everything must be a grand display of power.” He gestured toward the tree, his gaze lingering on the little letters. “Their wishes deserved more than a fleeting moment. Why not bind them to the spirit of Yule? A reminder that even the smallest dreams can take root and grow into something magnificent.”

You looked back at the tree, your heart feeling full as you saw the wishes swaying gently in the breeze. For a brief moment, the disarray of the previous days, the stress, and all the uncertainty melted away. It felt peaceful, in a way you hadn’t expected. The simplicity of the wishes, the hope behind them, made everything feel just a little bit more magical.

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked softly, the weight of your words more sincere than you’d meant. “I didn’t expect this side of you. You’re a bit of a softy in disguise.”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with a playfulness that only he could pull off, though a hint of warmth remained in his tone. "I am many things, but I would hardly call myself soft. My genius is unrivaled, my charm is clearly undeniable, but I am far from sentimental."

He paused, the playfulness momentarily fading as he regarded you with a softer look. "But even the most enigmatic of gods can have their... moments," he added quietly, his gaze lingering on you before quickly flashing back to his usual impish grin. "Don’t tell anyone, though. It would ruin my reputation."

You tilted your head, your gaze softening as you considered his words. There was something in the way he spoke, something unguarded that made you pause. You gave him a small, knowing smile, your tone teasing but with an underlying sincerity. "I guess you do have your moments of wisdom, after all," you said, your voice warm. "I always thought you were all about grandeur and spectacle, but I guess even someone like you knows the power of the little things."

You leaned in just slightly, your smile still in place, but there was a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "It’s funny," you mused, your words soft, "I didn’t expect this side of you. I guess we all have our layers, don’t we?"

Loki smiled, a touch of pride in his eyes, but it was a softer, more genuine pride than you were used to. “You’d be surprised how much thought I put into things sometimes.” His voice lowered a little, almost as though he was sharing something personal. “Not everything has to be grand or spectacular to matter. Sometimes, it’s the simple gestures that can mean the most.”

You turned back to the tree, your fingers lightly brushing the edges of the next letter you picked. “This is really special, Loki.” Your voice was quieter now, almost reverent as you took in the sight of all the letters hanging on the tree. “You’ve given them something to look forward to and to believe in.”

Loki stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the tree. “I suppose I’ve learned a few things over the years. Not everything has to be perfect for it to be meaningful.”

As you pulled away from the tree, your eyes lingered on the sparkling ornaments for just a moment longer. You turned to Loki, who was still standing nearby, his hands lightly brushing the branches as if contemplating something deeper. There was a warmth in your chest, a quiet understanding of the thought and care that had gone into making this Yule truly special.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice full of sincerity. "I don’t think I ever would’ve thought of this. It’s perfect."

Loki glanced at you, his gaze softening. Before he could respond, you stood up on your tiptoes and, without thinking, placed a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise, the briefest of blushes flickering across his cheeks before he masked it with his usual playful composure.

"If I’d known something as small as this would grant me such a delicacy, I would’ve done it sooner," he teased, his voice still carrying the usual mischievous undertone, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something a little warmer, a little softer.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile as you stepped back, your face a little flushed. "Don’t push your luck, Mischief," you replied, the hint of a challenge in your tone.

He chuckled, raising a brow. "Oh, I never push, darling. I simply nudge… gently," he added with his signature smirk returning, as if he hadn’t just been caught a bit off guard by the unexpected tenderness.

As you shared that moment, something unspoken passed between you—an understanding, a shift in the air, but nothing too bold. Yet, both of your hearts seemed to beat a little faster, and the space between you felt just a little more charged than before.

The royal courtyard had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Strings of golden lights intertwined with frosted branches, casting a warm glow across the snow-covered ground. A towering evergreen stood at the center, adorned with shimmering ornaments and glowing runes that pulsed faintly with magic. Tables laden with Asgardian delicacies lined the perimeter, and a faint melody floated through the air, played by an ensemble of musicians stationed near the tree.

As the first portal shimmered open, Jane Foster stepped through, pulling her coat tighter against the chill. Her expression lit up at the sight of Thor, who bounded over with his usual exuberance. “Jane!” he called, his voice booming even in the open air. “At last! Welcome to Asgard’s Yule celebration!”

“Thor,” Jane laughed as he enveloped her in a bear hug. “You’re going to squash me before I even get to enjoy the festivities.”

Before she could say more, another portal opened with a soft hum, revealing a group of familiar faces. Tony Stark was the first to step out, his eyes immediately scanning the scene. “Interesting,” he drawled, tugging his scarf tighter. “Looks like someone’s been raiding the Hallmark aisle. Did you do this, Reindeer Games?”

Loki, who had been leaning casually against one of the pillars at the edge of the courtyard, arched an eyebrow. “Ah, Tin Man,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “I see your sense of fashion is as middling as ever. And no, I don’t sully my talents with mere decorations.”

“Sure you don’t,” Tony shot back, already making his way toward one of the tables. “But I’ll bet you were in charge of the drinks. Let’s see if they’re as pretentious as you are.”

Steve Rogers stepped through the portal next, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He took a moment to take in the scene, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This is… something alright,” he said quietly.

Thor clapped him on the back with enough force to make him stagger slightly. “Is it not magnificent? Tonight, my friends, we celebrate in true Asgardian style! Food, drink, and merriment for all!”

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton followed close behind, their sharp eyes surveying the courtyard. “This is cozy,” Natasha remarked dryly. Her gaze flicked to Loki. “I’m surprised you’re not sulking in a corner somewhere or plotting mischief.”

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Agent Romanoff,” Loki replied smoothly, his smirk just this side of smug. “My mischief is already in motion.”

You, who had been overseeing the final touches on the feast, approached the group with a welcoming smile. “Glad you all could make it, guys,” you said, your breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “I wasn’t sure if Asgardian traditions would be your thing.”

“Oh, traditions are fine, Skittles,” Tony replied, already holding a goblet of mead he’d managed to acquire. “But I’m here for the food. And maybe to see if Frosty over there pulls off anything entertaining.”

Bruce Banner shuffled over, his smile soft and unassuming. “Thanks for having us,” he said. “It’s… nice to get a break from everything.”

As the group began to mingle, the dynamics unfolded naturally. Jane and Bruce struck up a conversation about the science behind the glowing runes on the tree, with Thor chiming in enthusiastically about the enchantments. Natasha and Clint drifted toward the weapons display near the courtyard’s edge, their interest piqued by the craftsmanship.

Tony, meanwhile, found himself circling back to Loki. “So, puny god,” he began, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s the over-under on you pulling some kind of elaborate prank tonight?”

Loki’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smirk. “Stark, if I were to indulge in such trivialities, you would not see them coming. But I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight. I’d hate for you to feel… out of place.”

You, who had been listening from a few steps away, couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Don’t encourage him, Tony. He doesn’t need the help.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging him, Tinkerbell,” Tony replied with a grin. “I’m just testing his limits.”

Steve, who had been quietly observing, walked over to Thor and gestured toward the massive Yule log near the tree. “So… what’s the story with that?”

Thor grinned broadly. “Ah, the Yule log! Its lighting marks the official start of the festivities. A sacred moment, my friend. You’ll see soon enough!”

Nearby, Jane sidled up to you, her tone curious. “This is your first Yule celebration, right? How are you holding up?”

You smiled, glancing toward Loki, who was now demonstrating his seiðr for a small group of curious onlookers. The green-hued magic danced in the air, forming intricate shapes that captivated everyone watching. “It’s overwhelming,” you admitted. “But it’s magical. I can see why this means so much to everyone.”

Jane followed your gaze, then smirked knowingly. “And I’m sure a certain dark prince has nothing to do with that sentiment?”

Before you could reply, Brunnhilde appeared, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Oh, she’s smitten, no doubt about it. But don’t worry, sweet cheeks, I’m sure brooding stuff over there will find some way to complicate things before the night’s over.”

“Val’,” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

“What?” she replied with a grin, lifting her goblet. “It’s Yule. A little mischief and romance are practically mandatory.”

The playful banter dissolved into laughter, and soon the courtyard was alive with the sound of merriment as more guests continued to arrive, setting the stage for a celebration no one would forget.

⠀

Soon enough, the air in the courtyard hummed with anticipation as the gathering crowd turned toward the massive Yule log stationed near the towering evergreen tree. The log, carved with intricate patterns of Norse runes and adorned with garlands of evergreen and holly, rested on an iron stand at the heart of the celebration.

Thor stood before it, Stormbreaker gripped tightly in his hand, his broad figure illuminated by the golden glow of the surrounding lights. The faint crackle of his lightning echoed in the air, a promise of the power about to be unleashed. Beside him stood Brunnhilde, her presence commanding as ever, a goblet in one hand and her other resting on the pommel of her sword.

The chatter of the crowd quieted as Brunnhilde raised her hand, signaling the beginning of the tradition. She stepped forward, her voice carrying with a regal authority that silenced even the most boisterous of guests.

“Friends, family, and honored guests,” she began, her tone strong yet warm, “we gather here tonight, under the light of the Yule tree and the vast expanse of the stars, to celebrate the turning of the season and the bonds we share. Yule is not merely a time of merriment—it is a time to reflect, to honor the past, and to look toward the future with hope.”

She raised her goblet slightly, her eyes sweeping across the crowd. “Tonight, as we light the Yule log, we kindle the fire of community, resilience, and renewal. Let this flame burn bright, a beacon in the dark, reminding us of the strength we find in each other. Let it mark the start of a celebration worthy of Asgard’s legacy.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, raising their own goblets in response. Brunnhilde stepped aside with a small, satisfied smirk, gesturing toward Thor.

“Now, who better to light the way than the God of Thunder himself?” she added, her tone laced with humor.

Thor grinned broadly, stepping forward with his usual swagger. He lifted Stormbreaker high, and the skies above seemed to darken just slightly, as though the stars themselves leaned in to watch.

“Let us welcome the light, and may it guide us through this season of joy!” He bellowed, his voice resonating through the courtyard.

With a sharp crackle, bolts of lightning arced from the axe, striking the Yule log with an explosive burst of light. The log ignited instantly, flames leaping to life and casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd. The fire danced and flickered, its light reflected in the awestruck faces of everyone present.

The warmth of the fire spread through the courtyard, both physically and metaphorically, as the crowd erupted into cheers once more. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and the celebration officially began.

You, standing toward the edge of the crowd, couldn’t help but smile in childlike wonder at the sight. The sheer spectacle, the sense of unity, and the magic of the moment were overwhelming in the best way.

Loki appeared at your side, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the scene with a faint smirk. “Thor does enjoy his dramatics,” he remarked lightly, though his tone held no malice.

You glanced at him, your smile widening. “I don’t blame him, it’s tradition,” you replied. “And it’s beautiful.”

Loki tilted his head, his gaze softening as he watched you instead of the fire. “It is,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd.

As the music picked up and the guests began to drift toward the dance floor near the Yule tree, Brunnhilde raised her goblet once more, her voice cutting through the joyous commotion.

“Let the festivities begin!” she declared, her grin wide and infectious.

With that, the courtyard came alive with laughter, music, and the sound of feet moving to the rhythm of the dance. The Yule celebration was officially underway.

⠀

The flames of the Yule log crackled and danced, casting warm golden light over the courtyard. The lively music of flutes, strings, and drums filled the air as the guests, Asgardian and Midgardian alike, joined in the festivities. Around the grand fire and beneath the glittering Yule tree, people swayed, twirled, and laughed in a joyous dance that blurred the line between realms.

You stood off to the side, catching your breath after spending most of the evening immersed in the revelry. Your cheeks were flushed from dancing—both the lively Asgardian traditional dances you had eagerly learned and the familiar Midgardian waltzes that had followed.

Your earlier conversations with the various United Nations diplomats and Midgardian guests had been engaging yet intense, requiring a level of charm and tact you hadn’t entirely realized you possessed. Between discussing Asgardian culture and bridging gaps between worlds, you had barely had a moment to yourself.

Several guests had gone out of their way to compliment you on the gifts they had received earlier in the evening. Each one was uniquely tailored: intricate wooden carvings of Yggdrasil that doubled as ornate keepsake boxes, filled with an assortment of Midgardian delicacies and Asgardian mead, or beautifully crafted quills forged from Asgardian metals, paired with sleek, modern Midgardian ink sets.

You had been stunned by their enthusiasm. The gifts, which you had initially seen in their raw, almost haphazard state under Loki’s supervision, had clearly undergone a transformation. What had once seemed overly extravagant and mismatched now carried a thoughtful elegance, seamlessly blending the traditions of both realms.

Your gaze instinctively sought Loki in the crowd. He must have changed them, you realized, your surprise mingling with an odd sense of pride. He had somehow taken what could have been a garish display and turned it into something meaningful—something that resonated with both Asgardian and Midgardian sensibilities.

Now, as you leaned lightly against a table laden with mulled wine and pastries, you allowed yourself to take it all in. The flickering light painted everything in a magical glow—the Yule tree adorned with shimmering ornaments and glowing letters, the Yule log blazing brightly, and the joyous crowd swaying in a beautiful, chaotic harmony.

You watched as an Asgardian couple paused beneath a sprig of mistletoe, sharing a quiet kiss before bursting into laughter and rejoining the dance. The sight brought a small smile to your lips, though it also sent a flutter through your chest.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there,” Loki’s voice came from behind you, smooth and teasing.

You turned to find him standing just a step away, his emerald-green tunic catching the firelight. He looked every bit the god tonight, regal and effortlessly captivating, though there was something softer in the way his eyes met yours.

“Taking a break,” you said lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, even I need a moment to breathe after dancing with half the delegation and learning to not trip over myself in your people’s traditional dances.”

Loki’s lips quirked into a sly smile. “I’d expect nothing less coming from you. You managed it to make it surprisingly effortless.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Flattery, Mischief? You’re slipping.”

“Am I now, darling?” Loki replied, stepping closer, his tone low and playful. “Or perhaps I’m just warming up.”

You tilted your head, curious. “And why would you need to warm up?”

Loki smirked, offering his hand. “Because the best dance of the night is yet to come.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “I’m not sure I trust you on this one.”

“Wise,” Loki said with a mockingly serious nod, “but not nearly as fun. Come, indulge me.”

Despite your wariness, you placed your hand in his, and he led you toward the center of the dance floor. The lively music shifted into something slower, more melodic, as you joined the other couples. Loki’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch surprisingly gentle, as you began to move.

As you swayed to the rhythm, you couldn’t help but glance around the crowd. Your eyes landed on Thor, Jane, and Valkyrie standing off to the side. Thor was grinning broadly, lifting his mug in a mock toast, while Jane stifled a giggle behind her hand. Valkyrie, however, made no attempt to hide her amusement, smirking as she gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up.

You rolled your eyes but felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. “The Justice League is watching,” you muttered, tilting your head slightly toward the trio.

Loki followed your gaze and sighed dramatically. “Of course, they are. Discretion has never been their strong suit.”

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “I think they’re enjoying this more than they should.”

“Let them,” Loki said with a smirk, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “We’re far more interesting than whatever ale-induced tales Thor was spinning moments ago.”

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” you said softly as you swayed together, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Am I?” Loki arched an eyebrow, his smirk teasing but his gaze steady.

“You are,” you confirmed. “I know about the gifts—thank you for listening to me, by the way. This… whole thing; this isn’t what I expected from you.”

Loki chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying close enough attention. I’m more than just mischief and chaos, you know.”

As the song came to an end, you felt the faintest tug on your hand. Loki had led you just a step away from the tree, where another sprig of mistletoe dangled from its branches.

You glanced up, realization dawning as you looked back at him. “Seriously? A mistletoe prank?”

Loki’s lips curled into a sly smile, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze. “Oh, I assure you, this is no prank,” he replied, his voice smooth as ever.

You narrowed your eyes, your arms crossing over your chest. “If this is about everything—about me pushing you into putting all of this together—then you can save the theatrics. I know you probably still want to argue about it, but I won’t engage in some pitiful argument of pride. We both did well.” Your tone was firm, though there was an edge of exasperation beneath it.

Loki’s expression shifted, his usual air of mischief melting into something gentler. “You think I went through all this trouble merely to settle a disagreement?” He took a step closer, his voice quieter now, almost earnest. “This isn’t about proving a point or one-upping anyone. It’s about—” He paused, his gaze steady on yours. “You.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “Me?”

“You, who somehow managed to coax an entire realm into celebrating something most would have dismissed as frivolous,” Loki said, a rare softness coloring his words. “You, who demanded I find meaning in the smallest of gestures, who taught me that joy doesn’t always come in grand schemes or victories but in shared moments like this.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, you were unsure of what to say. Loki took your silence as permission to continue, his hand lifting to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “This mistletoe isn’t some clever ploy or a prank,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s a reminder. A way to say ‘thank you’ for showing me that despite everything, even I am capable of something... good.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your earlier irritation melting away under the weight of his words. “Loki...”

“Now,” he murmured as he brought you closer to him, his gaze dropping to your lips and then back to your eyes, “are you going to kiss me, or shall I be forced to endure yet another smug grin from Thor when he realizes I failed?”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I am,” Loki replied, his smirk softening into something more sincere as his voice lowered, “and I dare say I’ve been patient long enough. Now, I demand my gift for my good behavior.”

Unable to help yourself, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was hesitant at first, testing the waters. But as Loki’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and your fingers brushed the back of his neck, the kiss deepened, warm and unhurried. It was as though the world around you had melted away, leaving just the two of you beneath the gently falling snow, surrounded by the golden glow of the firelight.

The moment stretched, but just as you parted, the sound of raucous cheers startled you both. Loki sighed, glancing over his shoulder to see Thor lifting Jane into the air triumphantly, having spun her around in an exaggerated display of holiday spirit. Jane, laughing but apparently exasperated, swatted at Thor to put her down, which only made the crowd cheer louder.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temple as if pained. “Leave it to my oaf of a brother to ruin a perfectly good moment.”

You laughed, your eyes bright as you leaned in and kissed him again, this time quick and playful. Pulling back, you smiled at him, your voice soft as you said, “Merry Christmas, Mischief.”

Loki’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile, his eyes alight with something tender. 

“Merry Yule, darling.”

⠀⠀

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[insane-arcane]

Yandere Jayce X Reader X Viktor

You'd just made a breakthrough in your work and Sky had taken you out to celebrate. After a few drinks too many and a couple fun appetizers you made your way home. She offered to walk you but you could hold your liquor and weren't worried about getting back to your apartment which was relatively close. Walking her back to the Academy making sure not to stumble so she wouldn't worry she pauses at her dorm buildings door. Her eyes glance to the left then the right as her hand stays latched around your wrist. She asks if she should call a carriage or security to escort you to your apartment but slipping your hand away you wave her off with a confident smile.

The walk home was pleasant. It was a warm night with a gentle breeze blowing and as you walked you took everything in with a happy glow. The drinks somehow make the world a much brighter place. You wished you were this optimistic all the time. We're the gardens always this beautiful? We're they always missing so many blooms?

Entering your home with a slight giggle you hum confused staring at your furniture. Had they been moved? Figuring it was the alcohol you shrug it off but then you hear something. Eyes narrowing you regret not taking Sky's offer as a heavy feeling of dread settles in your stomach. Creeping to your kitchen careful not to step on any loose boards you look for a weapon.

Eyes scanning the tools you grab a meat cleaver off your kitchen stand before you pause. You still had time, if there was an intruder they had no idea you were here. You could leave and get security downstairs but what if you were wrong? What if you hadn't heard anything? They'd think you were Crazy or a Drunk. You might get in trouble for nothing and you couldn't afford the rumors it might cause.

Deciding to bite the bullet and hope for once you were wrong you kick your bedroom door open. Holding out the knife you pause.

Your favorite smell wafts through the air and you suddenly feel calmer, your shoulders dropping almost instantly. Your pounding headache begins to fade and you wonder where it's coming from and if you left a candle on. Blinking you close your eyes before you put a hand to your head. Taking a deep breath you're finally able to focus on the disarray of your room and who was inside.

"Viktor! Jayce! What the fuck?" You demand as you stand in your doorway Meat Cleaver ready to be used. Viktor was leaning against Jayces shoulder tired but hearing your voice he slightly stirred.

"Ahhhh (Y/N) your here!" Jayce states getting up off the bed and walking away from Viktor. He claps his hands before gesturing to the well decorated room. Viktor makes an annoyed sound at being disturbed but simply grabs his cane and slowly stands up when he sees it's you.

"Yes. I live here. What are you doing here?" You demand pointing your knife at them. Your brain buzzed and you were a little to tired for all of this. How did they get into your apartment? Why were they in your apartment? A million questions buzzed through your brain.

"See I told you it was a bit much? Ja?" Viktor says as he pinches his nose before he uses his free hand to wipe at his face trying to wake up. He looked at you with a sleepy grin and you roll your eyes in disbelief.

"No it was romantic." Jayce defends as he turns to look at Viktor making you groan. Jayce would think that wouldn't he, delusional as he was?

"I admit we may have gone overboard." Viktor states as he sees your displeased look. "But only with the best intentions love, nothing sinister see?" He questions and you hum noticing the melted candles and rose petals.

"How... How did you get into my house?" You question staring at the romantic setup with a confused and slightly worried look.

"Technicalities don't matter. Do you like it?" Staring at all the romantic pros you take a deep breath and press your hand to your forehead as you felt another much stronger headache coming on.

"I... Yes it's nice. Viktor did you break into my house?" You question slowly. You didn't want to insinuate anything since he was from the Undercity but your door being unlocked and them being in your apartment told you they'd somehow snuck or otherwise broke in. You were very specific about your lock routine not wanting any research or valuables to be stolen from you since you spent a majority of your time in the lab.

"Do you really want to know lovley?" Viktor teases and you close your eyes again. You were too tired and too drunk, honestly you didn't. You really didn't. You just wanted to collapse on your bed and sleep.

"Did you pick my lock?" You question softly. It's not an accusation, more of a hypothesis but you already know the answer before either answer. Viktor gives you a sheepish smile and shrugs as if to say who knows. But you made your own assumptions and you knew exactly how they got in. Golden eyed cheeky bastard.

"Were getting off track." Jayce interjects as he steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders before he turns you towards the bed.

"Okay I'll bite. What is all of this?" You question not letting go of the meat cleaver as he walks you closer to your bed.

"A romantic gesture." You stared at all the flowers, rose petals, candles, and chocolate covered fruits in trays.

"... Romantic is not the word I'd use. Unnecessary perhaps." You respond making a face as Jayce urges you to sit.

"(Y/N) you wound me so." Jayce states pouting. Humming in acknowledgment you stare at your room, at what they'd done for you. At the mess you'd have to clean later.

"I'd offer you a glass of wine but it seems you've had your fill." Viktor suddenly says looking concerned, perhaps annoyed. You weren't entirely sure what laid behind his eyes in that moment but something you weren't used to. Rolling your eyes in turn for what feels like the hundredth time you place the knife down.

"Oh I'm going to need a glass after all this." You state as you bring your hands up to your face.

“As long as you share.” Jayce responds nuzzling into your neck. Giggling scooting away from the affectionate gesture you whine as Jayces soft lips touch your neck, so different from his calloused hands that wrap around your waist. The inventors crafty hands slip under your shirt and graze across your ticklish stomach. As gooseflesh rises on your arms your eyes flutter and Jayce hums clearly enjoying himself.

Viktor chuckles watching you get flustered. “Where were you?” He questions as he sits on the other side of you tilting your face towards him. As you smile leaning into his warm hand he smirks slightly, enjoying the contact. “(Y/N)...?” He hums lips hovering over yours as he waits for an answer.

“Celebrating with Sky. I wanted you both to come but couldn't find you.” You respond and he nods satisfied before leaning in to close the gap. As Viktors lips touch yours Jayces hands begin to fiddle with your clothes.

“You found us.” Jayce teases and you shiver as Viktor deepens the kiss and Jayce continues to gently grope you. Their hands only getting more desperate as they squish you in-between them.

You did indeed. You found something you didn't even know you were looking for. A fact they seemed to be forgetting. As their lips crash against yours and their hands feel your body you whine. They shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be doing this. But the more they kissed you and the more you sunk into your sheets with their sweet words whispered in your ear the less you cared. Slightly hazy from the alcohol but enjoying the feeling none the less you wonder if life has always been this colorful. If it was the alcohol or the thrill of it all. And when you woke up would it still be this colorful entwined in their arms?

Or would the harsh truth of their breaking in ruin the morning mood? You're not sure and as they continue to kiss and hold you, only getting more desperate for you after waiting for so long, you realize that's a problem for tomorrow. For now it's colorful.

[cheriewoo]

Bathbombs & Little Deaths | Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 02 : Praise, Body Worship

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What do bath bombs and little deaths (orgasms) have in common? When they burst, the aftermath is heavenly and ultra soothing. And HongJoong is here to give you both. Will you survive what Joongie has planned for you in the warmth of the bathtub, or experience a little death in the process?

Word Count : 2.4k Genre : Idol Au, Smut, Angst. Pairing : Boyfriend! HongJoong x F.Reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, oral (fem recieving), bathub intimacy, use of jewelery (rings), dom/ sub undertones, multiple orgasms, bodyworship, praise, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, angel ), mentions of alchol consumption, aftercare, nipple play.

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 2 is here, ma chéries, and it’s a HongJoongie fic day! I’ve always wanted to write something involving a bathtub, so here I deliver. I may have gone a bit overboard with the word count, staying up late at night, so I hope you enjoy this pieceand shower it with alot of love.

Also, "Little Deaths" in French means "Orgasms." They’re called that because they’re so intense, it feels like you die and are reborn as a new person (a reference from Emily in Paris, S1).

Sorry for the long note, but here’s a glimpse of the bathroom (imagine it with more space for your hands) where our Y/N experiences her little deaths!

After the best album release and a power packed comeback..all Hongjoong wants is to relax in bath tub...with you of course.

Saying Hongjoong was on cloud nine would be an understatement. After pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into Ateez’s latest album, the concluding part of their The World series, the leader was incredibly happy and proud to see the album breaking records, winning numerous awards, and charting on global rankings. Most importantly, the Atiny were going loco for their title track "Crazy Form." The group had already celebrated officially with all the team members, but Hongjoong decided to throw a mini party just for the members, inviting their close friends to join in the celebration.

It was 2 in the morning, and finally, everyone had left after having a crazy yet cozy night. You and HongJoong had somehow managed to send San home since our little kitten had gone overboard and gotten a bit too drunk. It took Wooyoung and his girlfriend dragging him out while he babbled about protein, gym and working hard for atiny — our kitten was such a gym freak and fucking adobarble but extremely sincere idol that even in his drunken state, he couldn't stop declaring his love for atiny.

As you cleared the living room, making sure no one had left anything behind, you noticed Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen.You paused for a moment, listening to the quiet house, the faint sound of water running upstairs catching your attention. A small smile appeared on your face, already knowing where Hongjoong is, you made your way upstairs, to your shared bedroom. When you reached the bathroom door, you could see yellow glow of candles peaking through the door, you both loved scented candles and night baths, so having them in you bathroom was a must.

Hongjoong looked up as you entered, his sleeves rolled up while he dissolved your favorite vanilla lavender bath bomb. A soft smile spread across his lips. "I thought you might like a relaxing bath," he said, standing up and walking over to you. His hands slid around your waist, gently pulling you closer.

You felt the tension of the evening start to melt away just from his touch. “You read my mind,” you murmured, your hands resting on his chest.

“After tonight, I think we both deserve it.” he replied.

You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your fingertips, a calming rhythm that matched your own.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he whispered , “let’s get you out of those clothes.”

You smiled, letting him help you undress. His fingers were gentle as he worked your clothes, guiding them down your legs. Once you were both undressed, Hongjoong stepped into the tub first, holding out a hand to help you in. The water was perfectly warm, enveloping you like a soft blanket.You settled between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as his arms wrapped snugly around you, pulling you even closer. The water rippled gently around your bodies, infused with the sweet scent of your favorite vanilla and lavender bath bomb, now fully dissolved, creating a soothing, fragrant haze in the tub.

You could feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing your shoulder with a soft kiss. You sighed and leaned back into him. While his lips decorated your neck with butterfly kisses, his hands were busy massaging your breasts, occasionally pinching your nipples. His cold silver rings added another layer of stimulation, sending sparks throughout your body. Eventually, his tender lips made their way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Thanks for tonight, love. Without your help, this party wouldn’t have been possible,” he whispered, his mouth now kissing the most sensitive spot behind your ear, which instantly turned you on.

“I’d do anything to see you happy, Joong. But if you really want to thank me, I can think of a few ways we could make tonight even better…” Your head leaned back on his shoulder. You were extremely turned on at this point, and the ache between your legs was proof of it.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, slightly biting the skin below your ear. You winced with equal parts pain and pleasure, eventually succumbing entirely to pleasure as Joong’s hand traveled down south while his other hand was busy playing with your left nipple. His rings left a trail of goosebumps whenever they came into contact with your skin.

“Have a few things planned for you, babygirl,” he whispered, his thumb now busy rubbing up and down your entrance, his platinum ring on his middle finger coming into contact with your pulsating core, collecting your slick to gently make circles on your clit. A tremble passed through your entire body. You never knew a few silver rings could stimulate this much. Each touch on the sensitive nub and the cold metal contact had you jolting a little, and you could feel your eyes begin to well up with tears because of the stimulation.

“Joong, please…” your bottom lip was between your teeth, fully flustered by the way his hands and lips were miraculously working on your body.

“Does that feel good baby ?” he asks.

You sigh “feels so good” that last part comes more like a whine.

“You wanna cum, honey?” he asks again, his digits moving faster now, rubbing your entrance, slick juices leaking onto his digits and coating his silver rings. You were extremely wet and desperate for a release, responding to him with a breathy moan. Suddenly, his movements stopped, all at once earning a whiny whimper from you. He quickly took a lick of his fingers, where your juices coated and glistened on his shiny rings.

You twist your body to face him. “Joong, I need yo—” he smashed his lips to yours, hands cupping your face as you melted into the kiss, tasting yourself mixed with his saliva. Your hand traveled to his neck, pulling him impossibly close as you deepened the kiss. Your body twisted fully toward him, never breaking the intense, firework-like kiss you two were sharing.

Breaking the kiss after who knows how long, he took a moment to admire your face. A red blush decorated your flushed cheeks, your puffy cherry-red lips looking more inviting with every passing microsecond, and an angelic glow coated your whole face, causing a volcanic eruption of emotion in Hongjoong’s chest.

The moment not only made Hongjoong’s cock twitch from desire, given how turned on he was at that very fucking moment, but his heart ached with so much love for you. The only way to put this feeling into words was to either write a whole freaking album about you or fuck you till eternity. Only one of these could satisfy the fire blazing through his entire body.

For now, Joong decided to go with the latter, letting his desire take the lead.

“Can you sit on the surface, baby?” he asked, helping you stand and eventually guiding you to lay on the island, your elbows propping up your body. Your legs remained in the water as Hongjoong settled comfortably between them. Gently opening your legs, his lips found their way to your smooth thighs. He had always admired your thighs for how soft they were, but right now, he was needed somewhere else—somewhere very urgent and aching for his tongue.

But Joong planned on savoring you little by little, and sleep was not on tonight’s schedule, so he was in no hurry. His mouth coated the inside of your thighs with gentle kisses, occasionally surprising you with playful bites, reminding you how much of a switch he could be. Sweet kisses trailed their way to your aching core, where you needed him the most. Your world was spinning, and all you could do was encourage him with your needy moans.

He took a micro moment to admire your glistening core, shining and waiting eagerly for him to devour. Wasting no time, he gave a gentle yet thorough lick of your core, just to taste and satisfy his anticipation. The taste short-circuited his brain, your sweet juices inviting him to feast.

He dove in deeper, his tongue exploring your glistening core, savoring the sweet juices that turned him on while his unattended cock hardened with desire. Each teasing flick sent shivers through your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Joong…ahh...oh my god, keep going, please,” you whimpered, urging him to go on. He responded by intensifying the swirling of his tongue over your most sensitive spots and switching to suck on your bud, driving you wild. The world around you faded; all that existed was him and the intoxicating pleasure he was giving you at that very moment.

“Almost there, baby; I can feel you coming,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Give it to me, baby. I want to taste every bit of you.” With one final swirl and a harsh suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped, and you cried out his name as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Your body arched, trembling under the force of your release.

He didn’t stop, eager to drink the last drops of you, his mouth still working its magic. “You taste divine, honey,” he grinned, pulling back to admire your blissful expression. “You’re absolutely perfect, and I can’t get enough of you.” The satisfaction was clear in his eyes as he enjoyed your pleasure drunk face.

Was he done with you tho, heck no…not so early.

While you recovered from the high, he swiftly got out of the tub, grabbing the towels from the shelves and laying them on the bath island for you to get comfortable. As you moved onto the fluffy towel, he made himself comfortable on top of you, not fully crushing you but putting just the right amount of weight to maintain that sensual feeling. Somewhat recovered from your high and realizing the position you both were in, you gently wrapped your legs around his waist. A swift pull brought his lower body entirely onto you, his cock settling perfectly on your core. Your toes curled at the sudden contact with his hardened dick.

He settled his face between your boobs, kissing the center, eventually taking your right boob in his mouth. His hands balanced his upper body while his dangerously skilled tongue swirled around your nipple, sucking and biting, erupting pleasure throughout your entire body.

With each suck on your nipple, soft gasps escaped your lips, your body arching into him as pleasure radiated from your chest. “Oh, Joong, that feels so good,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at his roots and earning a groan from him. His mouth worked its magic, his warm tongue swirling around your sensitive yet now hard nipples, sending electric shivers through you.

He took his time, alternating between gentle nibbles and deep, hungry sucks, each sensation earning soft whimpers from you. “Mmm, just like that,” you encouraged, feeling the heat rise in your core with every tug of his lips. The way he lavished attention on your breasts ignited a fire deep within, leaving you breathless.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his tongue dancing playfully, devouring your soft breasts before pulling away just enough to tease. You felt a rush of heat as his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a mischievous gaze adorning his face.

The weight of his body pressed down on you, the heat radiating against yours driving you wild. “More, please,” you whisper begged, in a sultry tone.

“Want more, baby? Are you ready for me?” he teased while positioning himself at your entrance. “Hold on tight,” he murmured, giving you one last teasing kiss before shifting his weight, his hardened length pressing against your soft skin, ready to push inside you. The anticipation was mind-numbing, and you could hardly contain your excitement.

“Please, Joong,” you whimpered, feeling every inch of him as he hovered at your entrance, desire clouding your mind. “I need you.”

Wasting no time, he slowly began to push inside, stretching you deliciously. A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you, every inch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good, baby” he breathed, sinking deeper and deeper; it was painfully pleasurable.

With a steady rhythm, he began to thrust, each movement earning soft moans from you. “Oh, Joong, yes!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, encouraging him to go faster. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a sultry melody that resembled ATEEZ’s alluring and catchy beats.

He quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, guiding you to the edge. “You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice low and filled with desire. You nodded, lost in the pleasure, the heat pooling in your core.

“I'm close, Joong” you breathed, your vision almost blurry, on the brink of seeing stars, both literally and figuratively. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the tension peaked.

“Cum for me, baby” he urged, his thrusts becoming merciless, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you as you cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him.

With a few more deep thrusts, his release came, a low “fuck” escaping his lips as he spilled inside you, pushing both of you over the edge. Those bath bombs and little deaths truly marked the end of you both, leaving you breathless and satisfied. Hearts racing, you lay together as the world around you faded, leaving only the sweet memory of the moment shared.

You checked the time on the wall clock; it was about 5:30 AM in the morning, the sun almost about to rise. After laying down together for a few more minutes, Hongjoong helped you clean up. The morning rays made their way into the bathroom from the large windows of your bedroom.

As you both stepped out of the bathroom, the morning sunrise greeted you both. Basking in the rays for a few seconds, Hongjoong said, “I love you, baby. I love you so much” as he looked at the sun outside, a warm feeling spreading throughout your body. “I love you too, Joong” you replied, a smile dancing across your lips as you reached to kiss his cheek. He smiled earnestly at you.

“And now we sleep, baby. I need my eight hours to handle Wooyoung’s tantrums in the office” he chuckled as he mentioned his teammate. A menance Wooyoung’s face crossed your mind. Closing the curtains, he dragged you onto the bed, and you both fell into a blissful sleep.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[luckyartdrawer]

MWUEHEHEHE!!! @nightbearsnebula HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

I am your Secret Valentine and here I bestow upon you some Moon cuddles! Who of which is happily feeding ya chocolate hearts, all whilst being surrounded in shadow merchandise! (The DCA may have gone a little overboard in spoiling you)

You mentioned both the DCA and the Sonic franchise in your wishlist in multiple ways and thought this was a lovely middle ground! I personally love Sonic too, so I was more than happy to draw Shadow! Especially after looking through your blog, it seems he's a favorite hehe!

vvv Alt arts and extra yapping below! vvv

Less Effects and No Words Alt Arts

Here's a silly close up of the shadows I drew. They're so cute! (Also those shoes came out so clean uogh I want them to be real)

I sincerely hope you enjoy this! I definitely think this turned out to be one of my best dca arts recently too, so I'm extra satisfied with handing this over to you hehe!

I used your non-human Sona version because I actually struggle a lot with human heads specifically, so I was honestly very happy to see you had this version hehe! Very cute too!!! I love how silly you get with her in your doodles! I hope you don't mind I gave her big ol' eyes with stars in them; I feel like anyone would be so stoked to be pampered like this lololol! <333

It was also nice to draw Shadow again. I always drew Sonic characters even when I was really young, made OCs like CRAZY, but it's been a good while since I have done any sonic art in recent times! It was fun to use my old style tactics while also trying to keep the shadow plushies leaning a little more adorable than serious. Just to fit the vibes~ ✨

That ends my yap sesh! Happy Valentine's day Bear! ✨✨✨

[catcze]

No but ehat if like wriothesley had an s/o or maybe someone hes romantically interested in who he sees mostly in the fortress and then they go outside together one day and he's like "i never realized how beatiful you are in the sun" and hes all cute and blushin and shit OUGGH OUGH OUGH I'VE BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART WRAAAAAGHHSHDH

OUGHHASDAS YOU AND ME BOTH U AND ME BOTH

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

When you set out on your day off, you weren't expecting to run into your boss— certainly not in a cafe, of all places.

"Your grace?" you ask hesitantly, approaching the table that Wriothesley and Sigewinne occupy. There's a litany of small desserts before them, as well as a teapot and two tea cups filled with rather aromatic tea. You run a hand over your top, trying to smooth any wrinkles that there may be. You certainly hadn't been expecting to run into him here! Oh, if you knew you would have dressed a little bit better. As it is, you were just here to hunt down an afternoon snack, and you certainly looked it.

But Wriothesley lights up at the sight of you, a small smile curling the edge of his lips. Sigewinne grins too, waving in welcome.

"Hello there!" She says pleasantly. "We weren't expecting to see you here!"

You chuckle. "Same here."

"But it seems like you've come at quite the opportune moment," Wriothesley says, beckoning you into one of the empty chairs of the table. He straightens a bit, slouching less in his seat, and leans forward on his elbows. That smile is still on his lips, and his gaze hasn't left you for a second. "I'm afraid we may have gone a bit overboard with our order. You'd be doing us a favor by having some." Sigewinne nods in agreement. You feel the blood rush to your face though, turning it warm.

"Oh, I couldn't impose like that, your grace—"

"Sure you can," Wriothesley's smile broadens then, and you get a hint of his canines in his smile. A slight hint of a dimple on his cheek. "I already said that you'd be doing us a favor, didn't I? Besides, you can drop the 'your grace' while we're here. Treat this like... a serendipitous meeting between friendly parties, rather than between coworkers."

And oh, if you thought that your face was warm before, it had practically doubled in temperature now. Not wanting him to hurry you any further, you plop in the seat. Sigewinne giggles, pouring you a cup of tea and handing it to you which you take with a word of thanks.

"Here," says Wriothesley. He gestures for you to hand him your plate, and as you do so, your fingers brush. It sends tingles up your arm, and you damn near drop the plate out of reflex. Wriothesley, judging by how he clears his throat, his ears turning several shades redder, is not unaffected either.

He fills the plate with lots of confectionaries, desserts, finger foods, and sandwiches, and all sorts of other things. Sigewinne points out some things for him to give you on occasion, and he happily takes her suggestion and gives you some. Well. You've certainly got your afternoon snack and thensome.

As Wriothesley hands the plate back to you, he pauses just as you've taken hold of the other side.

"You know... I think this is the first time I've seen you in broad daylight," he muses. His cheeks redden a bit, and he chuckles at himself under his breath. "The sunlight makes you look even more stunning than usual."

And you make an embarrassed noise, because archons, you might just be in need of medical assistance by the end of this, because there is no way the flipping of your heart is normal. You take the plate, looking down and away so he doesn't see your flustered expression, but he has anyway, if his small laugh is any indication.

"If you ever want to come back here, feel free to say so. My treat." Wriothesley offers, gazing at you with his chin resting on his palm. He looks at you like he never wants to look away. "I'd be happy to see you in this sunshine again, if you'd let me."

[lynlee494]

Winterhawk Community Sourced Recommendations, A Master List

This post is a long time coming, but finally I’ve finished a master list from when this fandom really helped me out.

The original post is here:

^ Just in case I have forgotten or skipped over a recommendation, or if more are added in the comments since making this post.

My original plea for help was, for context on the type of recommendations you may find (though delightfully, there are others mixed in):

‘I'm looking for Winterhawk fic recommendations.

Ones where Clint finds/meets the WS (as either Hawkeye or an AU Clint, not picky)

Or ones where it is Winterhawk with a Hurt Bucky or Bucky in Distress kind of vibe.

AU or otherwise, even if it is a full on Clint/Bucky AU.’ I also had asked simply for favorite authors and favorite stories. The answers were plentiful and wide spreading, and I’m still making my through (I am a multishipper as long as one of ‘em is Bucky Barnes – welcome to my hyper fixation. So I jump around).

So, in thanks to so many who took time to dig for the recommendations, I wish to spread the love and make it easier to view what others took the time to dig up for me. It really did help. ❤️

I tried to make it easy and may have gone overboard, but hopefully ‘Ctrl-F’ or copy + pasting the text because I typed this out instead of using image snips (oh my gods the time this whole thing took) makes it easier to search tags.

Hopefully this helps others, and so now, organized for all our reading pleasure: A special thanks to sunny-rants for jumping in to give recommendations sooo fast!

*Please note: I have included tags, but not pairings, for times sake. All the stories are Winterhawk, and I believe there was a Clint/Bucky/Steve as well. *I also did not include archive warnings, etc. so please review the tags at your own risk.

*Also, cause I’m absolutely shameless, if you want to include anymore recs, that would be amazing… just putting that out there. Also, don't worry if you think it may be a repeat, I can always sort it out/organize later. (wink, wink: got any bottom Bucky, angst, long fics, AUs (current fav)? Clint taking care of Bucky etc.?)

'Keep Reading' for the recommendations bestowed upon me in an hour of need, along with summary, tags, and wordcount

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889561/chapters/8697424

Summary:

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Tags: Discussion of Canon Child Abuse; Discussion of Canon Brainwashing; Seizures; Epilepsy; Fluff; SHIELD Agent Clint Barton; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Strike Team Delta (Marvel); Sharing a Bed; Sharing Body Heat; Stranded; Slow Burn Word count: 67k+

(rec by tumblr: @sunny-rants)

___________________

Outnumbered by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954669

Summary:

Bucky Barnes returns to Brooklyn ready to get back into the world, make friends and sleep with Steve's super hot neighbor. The fact that the guy turns out to be a single dad to two-year-old triplets who spend most of their time causing mischief, trouble and mayhem doesn't deter Bucky at all. Steve would like it on record that he thinks Bucky is insane.

Tags: Kid Fic; Parent Clint Barton; Triplets; Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes; Steve Is a Good Bro; Bucky comes home to New York; Single Dad Clint Barton; Deaf Clint Barton; Bucky Barnes Feels; PTSD RECOVERY; Happy Bucky Barnes; Kids; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Clint Barton is terrible at relationships; Insecure Clint; Happy Ending

Word count: 18k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

___________________

Play It Again by sakkakitty

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206579/chapters/35269208

Summary: After a mix-up in a Hydra base, Bucky Barnes finds himself transported to the 21st century.

Tags: Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant; Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant; Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant; WinterHawk Big Bang 2018; Time Travel; Pre-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Deaf Clint Barton; Canon-Typical Violence; Background Stony – Freeform

Word count: 100k+

(rec by tumblr: @sunny-rants)

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Nobody Lost, Nobody Found by ClaraxBarton

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634884/chapters/36306264

Summary:

"Look, dude, I get it. You’re fucked-up. HYDRA fucked you up. I’ve been there. But you’re my fucking Soul Mate!"

“I can kill you. I could kill you without even realizing what I was doing. I’m not fucked-up, I’m a monster. I’m a nightmare. You can’t be here. You can’t- All the people I’ve killed- I will not murder my Soul Mate too. Not after everything else I’ve-”

Clint worked his left hand between their bodies and managed to land a punch to the man’s right side, forcing him to shift his weight, and Clint brought his right hand down on the place where the man’s metal arm met his torso - hidden by the shirt he wore, but on full display in the video Clint had watched.

The man released Clint with a grunt of pain, and Clint pressed his advantage, landing another punch to his abdomen, backing him up against the opposite side of the RV and then pressing the kitchen knife he had pocketed while cleaning up earlier to the man’s throat.

“Like I said, I’m not a Boy Scout. I’m plenty dangerous myself. We clear on that?”

OR:

This looks bad, because it is.

OR:

How Clint Barton met his Soul Mate

Tags: Soulmates; Soul Bond; winterhawk – Freeform; Slow Burn; No I mean the slowest of burns; Canon-Typical Violence; canon divergent/canon meandering starting with Age of Ultron; Smut; eventually I swear; Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Angst; Feelings; Clint Barton Needs a Hug; Bucky Barnes Feels; Steve Rogers Needs a Hug; BAMF Clint Barton; BAMF Natasha Romanov; Oral Sex; Frottage

Word Count: 108k+

(rec by tumblr: @sunny-rants)

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Choose Every Single Day by Noxnthea

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708083/chapters/70385346

Summary:

Clint has once again been wrangled into doing something because Natasha thinks it’ll be good for him; he’s not sure why she thinks she needs therapy too, but he knows better than to question her logic at this point.

Bucky’s doubtful that group therapy is going to do much for his crippling sense of self-loathing (and to be honest, he really doesn’t want the help), but Steve’s convinced it will be beneficial for both of them to learn to deal with the mistakes from their past.

None of them ever expected to have to deal with secret government organizations, eccentric billionaires, or unwanted super powers on top of their personal problems, but then, they are already paying Sam.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting; TherapyCanon-Typical Violence; Clint Barton's low self-esteem; Sam Wilson is a Saint; Everyone Needs A Hug; Deaf Clint Barton; Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot; Group Therapy; Slow Burn; seriously the slowest this is a fic first and foremost about individual growth; Found Family; Misunderstandings; Getting Together; wanda maximoff is everyone's little sister

Word count: 103k+

(rec by tumblr: @sunny-rants)

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Gold On Your Fingertips by Kangofu_CB

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434821/chapters/51074443

Summary:

“So,” he said, unwrapping the foil of the bar, “I’m Clint.”

The Soldier just blinked at him, caught somewhere between confused and surprised.

Which, fair, Clint got that a lot.

But he figured the Soldier hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so quickly, and Clint fully intended to capitalize on that, either in information or opportunity to escape or both.

He flashed a half-smile at the other man, one he’d flashed at a dozen other people in the last few years, one that got him a second look at least seventy percent of the time, and a quickie a fairly significant portion of that. He stretched his arms up over his head and cracked his spine, working the stiffness out of the shoulder that had, until ten seconds ago, been shackled to the furniture.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” Clint said. “Or something to call you by,” he amended.

Or: Clint meets his soulmate.

Tags: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Circus Performer Clint Barton; baby criminal clint barton; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant; or anything after that either; Alternate Universe – Soulmates; Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; Kidnapping; Deaf Clint Barton; Breaking and Entering; Voyeurism; Exhibitionism; Masturbation; wow that escalated quickly; Himbo Clint Barton; Diners; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Bucky Barnes Remembers; On the Run; Canon-Typical Violence; Shooting Guns; bad guys die etc etc; minor descriptions of wounds and wound care; barney barton sucks you can't change my mind; so does Trickshot; hydra also sucks; getting in a brawl with the Avengers was a bad idea; it's not Clint's fault; except for how it kind of is; Protective Clint Barton; Competent Clint Barton; Rutting; Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm; Disappointed Steve Rogers; but he gets over it; eventually; bad jokes and worse ideas; hey kids who wants to be an avenger?

Word count: 27k+

(rec by tumblr: @sunny-rants)

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Like Real People Do by Kangofu_CB

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937667/chapters/37163564

Summary:

And now Steve had brought him home like a goddamn found puppy he wanted to keep.

“What the fuck, Rogers?” Clint asked, his hands itching for a bow, a gun, an anything, but not stupid enough to make any sudden moves. There was no way to casually reach for the pistol he’d tucked into the back of his jeans, not with Steve so close and the Winter Soldier so unkillable.

“He’s not the Winter Soldier,” Steve said in a rush of expelled air, reading the tension in Clint’s arms correctly. “He’s Bucky Barnes.”

Either there were two silver-armed motherfuckers running around - and Clint could believe anything at this point - or this situation was even more bizarre than he’d first thought. And he knew bizarre. He’d been part of a circus.

A love story involving Billboard's Top 100, chopping firewood, and not looking like incognito serial killers when out on the town.

Tags: Cabin Fic; Tropes; Slow Burn; or at least my version of it; learning to be people again; sniper assassin courtship rituals; sniper nerds; Things This Is Canon Compliant With: Nothing; actually not true; possibly canon compliant with Captain America: TFA and also Iron Man; but I'm not positive; Civil War Fix-It; I honestly just wanted to watch these two idiots fall in love in a secluded cabin ok; Canon-Typical Violence; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; FlashbacksPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Canon Disabled Character; Deaf Clint Barton; Texas Two Stepping is a thing; Sorry Not Sorry; tags updated to include country music; winterhawk – Freeform;magic woodland archer cabin; HYDRA supersoldiers; a small selection of violence; Canon-Typical Injuries; a tiny bit of angst; Happy Ending; found family trope abounds; Sex

Word count: 67k+

(rec by tumblr: @sishal01)

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Making Me A Habit by Kangofu_CB

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706253

Summary:

Bucky is a disabled vet struggling with reintegrating into civilian life. He has a routine and a rhythm, and he doesn't like to let anything - big or small - disrupt it. That all changes the day Bucky finds himself inside CATastrophe, the local pet rescue, recovering from a panic attack in the back room of the shop. He’s used to walking by the place, not visiting, but the next thing Bucky knows, he’s hanging signs and being used as a climbing tree for a bunch of freshly-acquired kittens. And he just...keeps going back. First for the kittens, then for the disaster shop owner who rescues actual kittens from actual trees and teaches archery as a side-gig, and eventually because he’s hopelessly in love.

(Clint was in love before Bucky ever walked in the door.)

Tags: Modern Era; War Veteran Bucky Barnes; Amputee Bucky Barnes; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Bucky Barnes Has PTSD; Civilian Clint Barton; Pet Adoption; Kittens; so many kittens; Archery Instructor Clint Barton; Alternate Universe - Pet Store; Slow Burn; Pining; Misunderstandings; WinterHawk Big Bang; Word count: 20k+

(rec by tumblr: @sishal01) (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Look What The Cat Dragged In by flawedamythyst

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084847/chapters/66134170

Summary:

The Winter Soldier was looming over him, dressed in full combat gear and hung all about with weapons. Blood was seeping out of a wound on his arm and there was a smear of it down his cheek that was starting to flake off as it dried. He was staring at Clint with a jaw-clenchingly intense glare and Clint felt every cell in his body freeze up under his scrutiny, expecting pain of some kind.

Instead, the Winter Soldier held a fist out containing Clint’s hearing aids and then, once he’d tucked them in pretty much on autopilot, thrust a cat in Clint’s face and growled out, “Tell me about this kitten,” like he was demanding the passwords to a nuclear weapon.

Somehow Clint ends up co-owning a kitten with the Winter Soldier.

Tags: Bucky Barnes is a Cat Lover; Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug; Bucky Barnes has a sweet tooth; Alpine – Freeform; Clint Barton Is a Good Bro; Just Add Kittens; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Domestic Fluff

Word count: 22k

(rec by tumblr: @sishal01) (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Sing Me That Old Song Again by mariana_oconnor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976866

Summary:

After breaking free from Hydra's control, James Barnes is keeping his head down. Captain America and his team are miles away, and he's better off alone. He's not expecting to be found by an Avenger. An Avenger who proves hard to get rid of.

Somehow, in spite of himself, Hawkeye ends up growing on him, and he realises that maybe alone isn't the best way to be.

But as Bucky's working out his own past, Hawkeye's coming face to face with his. They never should have gone to Budapest.

Tags:

Alternate Universe – Canon; Bucky Barnes's Notebooks; Road Trips; Sort Of; Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant; Winterhawk Reverse Big Bang; Bucky Barnes's Plums; Deaf Clint Barton; Hurt Clint Barton; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Bucky Barnes Remembers; Bucky Barnes Needs a HugWhat Happened in Budapest

Word count: 27k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Warming Up by pherryt

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003336/chapters/45126904

Summary:

The last thing Clint expected when SHIELD went down and he had to make his way to his safehouse was to find the Winter Soldier already using it.

No, maybe the last thing he expected was for all his survival instincts to say screw it, and let him stay.

This couldn't possibly go wrong, could it?

Tags: Implied Tony/Steve – Freeform; Brainwashing; post winter soldier; deaf!cllnt; PTSD; Nightmares; hurt; comfort; bed sharing; tub sharing; Cuddle for Warmth; some violence but not too graphic; First Kiss; Low Self Esteem; Misunderstandings; hurt!Clint; First Aid; Running Away; Artist!Steve; mild to moderate hypothermia; Snowed In; cint's farm; PiningMutual Pining; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; safehouse

Word count: 45k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Sticks and Strings and Christmas Things by PhoukasPenmanship

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433500

Summary:

12 connecting vignettes for the "12 Days of Winterhawk" prompt challenge.

Tags: 12 Days of Winterhawk; Christmas Fluff; Swearing; Slow Burn; A little angst; Family of Choice; deaf!Clint

Word count: 66k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Nowhere You Can Be by jstabe https://archiveofourown.org/works/22012795

Summary:

Sometimes fate gets a little help from FedEx.

Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering; Amputee Bucky Barnes; Deaf Clint Barton; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; References to Depression; Happy Ending; Alternate Universe - No Powers

Word count: 26k+ (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Lucky in Love by dr_girlfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230013/chapters/40516820

Summary: Clint is only a couple of sips into his cardboard cup of coffee, his brain barely out of neutral, which is probably why it takes him so long to realize that some damn psycho is trying to kidnap his dog.

Excerpt:

“I’m not some charity case,” Bucky says pugnaciously.

“I didn’t think you were,” Clint answers back readily enough. “I mean, I can tell you’re fucked up for sure, but of the two of us, I’m probably the bigger disaster. My sleep schedule is shit, and I drink coffee straight from the pot. I sing in the shower even though I’m deaf as fuck. I have arrows everywhere because I’m an archer — did I tell you that? And I was raised in a literal circus, so I’m not exactly domestic. Let’s see, what else?” He squints down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, I won the building in a poker game with the Russian mafia and every once in awhile they show up and try to take it back, but usually I handle it, no problem. Uh...”

Clint happens to looks up and Bucky’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. Clint’s hand freezes where he’s rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. Yeah, when you put it all out there at once, it doesn’t sound so good.

Tags: Fluff; Romance; Slow Burn; Oh my god they were roommates!; Alternate Universe - No Powers; War Veteran Bucky Barnes; Deaf Clint Barton; Ableist Language; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Mutual Pining; Hurt/Comfort; Touch-Starved; Friends to Lovers; Fraction/Aja Comic-based Clint Barton; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Ambiguous Cuddling; Touch Aversion; I Dunno Maybe a Little Praise Kink?; Circus Veteran! Clint Barton; SHIELD Veteran! Clint Barton; Slow Build; meet ugly; Idiots in Love; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; References to Depression; Not Gonna Tag Every Sex Act Just Trust Me There's Plenty; Body Worship; A Little Gentle Dominance Stuff Maybe?; Edging; Crying During Sex; What Can I Say the Winterhawk Crowd Are Dirty Enablers; #Make Clint Cry 2019; meet cute; Deaf Character Word count: 59k+ (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Battle Born by sian1359

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960690

Summary:

Bucky Barnes decides he needs to come in from the cold soon after the events that happened in DC. He can't go to Steve or Natalia, as both would have expectations of a man he cannot ever be again. So he turns to someone who wouldn't have any expectations: Clint Barton.

Tags: Slice of Life; Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant; Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant; Angst with a Happy Ending; Relationship(s)Aftermath; Hydra (Marvel)Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Word count: 22k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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The Anthem of a Dead Man Walking by EVVS

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962379

Summary:

“I’m Clint,” he says again, knowing that he’s going to have to force this if he’s not going to go insane in here. He lasted this long, but knowing that there’s someone else? Someone else who he could talk with? No, he needs that right now. So badly. Someone who isn’t Tasha coming in to update him on the real world. Someone else who’ll help him make fun of the guards and maybe who’ll harmonize with him to Bohemian Rhapsody. He’s not looking for a new best friend, just someone who’ll commiserate. “I’m gonna call you John.”

There’s some movement. Sounds like someone’s head bumping the wall. “Why John?”

“Since you aren’t giving me your name to work with, you’re a John Doe to me, right? So I’ll just… call you John.”

Tags: Prison; Suicide mention; alcohol mention; Courtroom Drama; Crayons are involved; Not Canon Compliant; Marvel Universe

Word count: 14k+ (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Outnumbered by sara-holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954669

Summary:

Bucky Barnes returns to Brooklyn ready to get back into the world, make friends and sleep with Steve's super hot neighbor. The fact that the guy turns out to be a single dad to two-year-old triplets who spend most of their time causing mischief, trouble and mayhem doesn't deter Bucky at all. Steve would like it on record that he thinks Bucky is insane.

Tags: Kid Fic; Parent Clint Barton; Triplets; Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes; Steve Is a Good Bro; Bucky comes home to New York; Single Dad Clint Barton; Deaf Clint Barton; Bucky Barnes Feels; PTSD RECOVERY; Happy Bucky Barnes; Kids; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Clint Barton is terrible at relationships; Insecure Clint; Happy Ending

Word count: 18k+ (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Falling Off the Face of the Earth by Teeelsie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951468

Summary:

Cap relaxes his hold, but he stays where he is, still looming over him. “Clint. The compound’s been breached,” Rogers whispers urgently, then finally sits back and lets go of him.

There’s another explosion, closer this time and throwing more light. He turns his head sharply and sees Bucky Barnes hovering near the door, looking… off. Clint pushes Rogers and he finally stands up so Clint can scramble out of the bed and grab some clothes. He’s wearing only boxers because it’s fucking hot in Wakanda, and he catches Barnes’ eyes flicking across his body.

Clint long ago stopped being bothered by people’s reactions to the many scars on his body – not that that many people actually see them - but that doesn’t mean he appreciates when they stare. “Like what you see?” he asks with a hard edge as he pulls on his shirt. Barnes turns his head, at least having the decency to look embarrassed for being caught staring.

Rogers looks at them both impatiently and quickly switches gears. “Clint, I need you to take Bucky. Get him out of Wakanda and somewhere safe.”

OR Bucky and Clint fall into each other. Bad shit happens. Then it all works out in the end.

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie); On the Run; BAMF Clint Barton; BAMF Bucky Barnes; Developing Relationship; Slow Build; Brainwashing; Mind Control; Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Clint!Whump; Hurt/Comfort; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Angst; winterhawk – Freeform; Winterhawk Reverse Big Bang; WinterHawk Big Bang; Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant; Long Live Feedback Comment Project

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

(author rec by tumblr: @jinxquickfoot)

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Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889561Summary:

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Tags: winterhawk – Freeform; sniper bros; References to PTSD; Therapy; Recovery; Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery; Avengers Family; Avengers Tower; Bonding; Drinking; Alcohol; Steve Feels; Protective Steve; Tony Stark Needs a Hug; Tony Feels; Deaf Clint Barton; Clint Is a Good Bro; Bucky Barnes Feels; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Ceiling Vent Clint Barton; Humor; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; do not copy to another site

Word count: 67k+

(rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Broken But Mending By Lissadiane

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782863

Summary:

Bucky's not sure what he expects when he picks up the free local paper in his therapist's office, but it's not advice on losing things in his butt, that's for sure.

In which Bucky Barnes is a recovering war vet with a whole bunch of issues, none of which can be solved by a small time sex advice therapist, no matter how pretty his smile is. Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; War Veteran Bucky Barnes; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Amputee Bucky Barnes; Discussions of Asexuality; sex advice columnist Clint; Panic Attacks

Word count: 15k+ (rec by tumblr: @effervescentaardvark)

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Silhouette by mariana_oconnor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956760/chapters/18197191

Summary: After a mission in Mexico goes wrong, SHIELD Agents Barnes and Rogers are given the job of hunting down the notorious Hawkeye and the Black Widow, the only problem being: no one even knows what they look like.

On the other side of the law, Clint's enjoying messing with their new SHIELD shadows, especially seeing how close he can get to Agent Barnes without him realising, but he makes the mistake of getting attached, and that makes everything more complicated. Tags: Alternate Universe; SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes; SHIELD Agent Steve Rogers; Assassin Clint Barton; Assassin Natasha Romanov; Slow Build; very slow build; WinterHawk Big Bang; winterhawk – Freeform; Natasha Is a Good Bro; Mission Fic; A lot of people get assassinated; Torture; Mentions of past brainwashing; epic bromances; Deaf Clint Barton; Identity Porn; Steve Rogers is a little shit; Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro;

Word count: 105k+

(rec by - tumblr: @itsalinski; note from itsalinski: ‘Silhouette is such an awesome fic, with a cool flip where Clint is the assassin and Bucky is the SHIELD agent’)

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All My Mistakes by ClaraxBarton

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774933/chapters/34171013Summary:

Next job I’m taking is going to be south of the equator, Clint promised himself as he finished zipping up his down coat. He wished he had another. He was already wearing a black balaclava and a black beanie, thermal underwear under his clothes and two pairs of pants, but it was freezing on the rooftop.

The wind and the fine, misty rain that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be snow, ice or rain definitely didn’t help matters.

Clint hated the cold.

He didn’t understand why millionaire criminal masterminds couldn’t meet in exotic, warm locations to do their deals.

If he was a millionaire criminal mastermind, he sure as hell wouldn’t do deals in London in February.

-o-

It's February, 1999, and Clint Barton is about to encounter the Winter Soldier

Tags: Pre-Canon; or well pre-Avengers; Clint still doing his solo assassin thing; Smut; Adventure; Action; Angst; plumbing; Coffee; Spanking; jumping off roofs; shooting bad guys; Movie References; winterhawk – Freeform; Word count: 10k+ (rec by - tumblr: @itsalinski; note from itsalinski: ‘All My Mistakes is actually exactly what you were asking for, with Clint running into Bucky when he's still the winter soldier’)

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The Other Man out of Time by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004771

Summary:

Also known as Time Travelling Clint Wrecks the Universe.

Due to The Time Stone having a great day screwing around the fabric of reality, Clint finds a copy of himself thrown back into Normandy, 1944. Cue Clint 2.0 meeting Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos and a pretty different version of Steve.

Tags: Time Travel; Author has messed with timelines again; Dubious Science; The Time Stone; World War II; WWII Bucky Barnes; Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Clint Barton-centric; Deaf Clint Barton; Bucky Barnes Feels; The Asset remembers; Original Character Death(s)Falling In Love; Angst and Hurt/Comfort; Humor Word count: 97k+

(rec by - tumblr: @itsalinski; note from itsalinski: ‘And, The Other Man Out of Time is one of my absolute favourite Winterhawk fics’)

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Hope It Leaves a Mark by thepartyresponsible

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762500

Summary: A collection of short fics inspired by the 2020 whumptober challenge.

Tags: Canon-Typical Violence; Fluff and Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Word count: 72k+

(rec by - tumblr: @itsalinski; note from itsalinski: ‘Also 'Hope it Leaves a Mark' is just a collection of truly awesome short fics that I wish were each long 100k fics, they're all that good and interesting (even the ones that aren't even Winterhawk, the author just writes so well and does such awesome things with Clint, Bucky and Frank’))

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Americana is for Lovers by ccbytheseashore

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10129133/chapters/22524080

Summary: Please tell me you are still alive, read Steve's text.

In Virginia, Bucky replied.

The hell are you doing in Virginia?

Would you believe me if I said trying to find a foam sculpture of Stonehenge?

Tony said to make sure his car comes back in once piece. Please don't shoot each other.

Clint and Bucky set off on an adventure to find an infamous work of Americana history, but find literally everything else (including love) instead.

Tags: Road Trips; Americana; Sexual Content; Developing Relationship; Getting Together; monstrous abuses against perfectly good bedframes

Word count: 8k+

(rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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Bent by jstabe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413493

Summary: “My name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

He felt Clint’s lips curl up where they were resting at his temple. “Yes.”

“I am an Avenger.” Which was frankly ridiculous and impossible to believe sometimes, but it was true so it went on the list. Tags: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Past Rape/Non-con Word count: 3k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907085/chapters/4113102

Summary: Yes, Clint is avoiding the other Avengers. No, he does not want to go back to New York. But then again, he didn't exactly want to be kidnapped by the Winter Soldier either. Really, he just wants to go back to bed. Tags: Kidnapping; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Canon-Typical Violence; Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Where the hell was Clint Barton; Bucky Barnes Feels; Clint Barton Feels; Depression; Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery; Implied Relationships; Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark; Panic Attacks Word count: 110k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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A Little Less Bloodshed Would Be Nice by youcancallmearrow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972900

Summary: Clint Barton may be a human train wreck, but when it comes to befriending ex-mind controlled assassins, he's pretty much the best there is. Unfortunately, he's not nearly as good at being kind to himself. Lucky for him, Bucky's got it covered. Tags: Fluff with Feels; pizza dog – Freeform; Mind Control; Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery; You Will Pry Jarvis Out of My Cold Dead Hands; Falling In Love; Domestic Avengers; Dog Cops; WinterHawk Big Bang; Angst; Comfort; Tony Is a Good Bro

Word count: 8k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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A Thistle Cannot Grow by ccbytheseashore

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956835

Summary: Clint stood at the bottom of the stairs in his boxer shorts and socks with his bow aimed at Bucky Barnes.

Bucky held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn't mean to sneak up on you.”

Clint didn't lower the bow.

“I didn't know you had a kid,” Bucky added conversationally.

“I should shoot your ass on principle.”

Tags: Kid Fic; Deaf Clint Barton; Developing Relationship; Getting Together; Panic Attacks; Mild Hurt/Comfort; WinterHawk Big Bang; Happy Ending; Sexual Content; Frottage; winterhawk – Freeform; Word count: 12k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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Liminal Spaces by thepartyresponsible

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19086175

Summary: “Clint,” Steve says, and it’s that same no-bullshit, do-or-die, I really, really mean it voice he used to trot out in the last few innings of close games in high school. “Bucky’s not gonna fly. He’s not going to drive himself. He can’t— I need you to drive him here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Clint says, and hangs up. Tags: Alternate Universe - Road Trip; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Idiots in Love; Mutual Pining; Exes; Angst with a Happy Ending; Past Child Abuse; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Clint Barton Needs a Hug; Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug Word count: 20k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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Draw, Breathe, Fire by FestiveFerret

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218880

Summary: If Bucky's not the Winter Soldier - not a weapon - anymore, then who is he?

And who is this smart-mouthed, cocky, flirty, pushy archer, Clint Barton? Tags: Bucky Barnes Recovering; Falling In Love; Get Together; Romance; Flirting; Banter; Hurt Clint Barton; Clint Barton's Bow & Arrows; Bucky Learns to Archery; Bucky Barnes Has PTSD; First Kiss; Sexual Content; Animal Shelters; Ferrets; Noodle no Noodling; Little bit of angst; lotta fluff

Word count: 14k+ (rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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if god is in the lens by shatteredhourglass

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123954

Summary:

The Asset pauses. He remembers the first few days after dragging St- dragging Captain America out of the water, the aimless emptiness that had filled him, with no mission and no knowledge of what to do next. He’d spent a week staring at the peeling wallpaper in a motel. There had been butterflies patterned on it. He hadn’t known what direction to go in next, because he was (is) scared of Captain America, and he didn’t want anything to do with Hydra, and he’d just… stopped. That’s when he realizes Barton isn’t going to move unless he gives the man a reason to move, something to do that isn’t related to a past he can’t remember or the threat of imminent death. (It’s been burned out of him, the Asset can relate.)

A mission.

He's leaning on the button to the microphone before he thinks about it. “Come with me and you can kill more of them.”

Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie); Recovery; Denial; Brainwashing; Protective Steve Rogers; Bucky Learns To Be A Person Again; Blood and Violence; Deaf Clint Barton; Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship; Bucky Barnes Feels; Psychological Trauma; Angst and Hurt/Comfort; Mostly On Bucky's Part; Clint's Just Like 'Ah Yes This Is My Life Now'; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Hand Jobs Word count: 40k+

(rec by – tumblr: @luredin)

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Got a Heart in Me, I Swear by thepartyresponsible

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846980

Summary: The pictures leak on a lazy off-season Sunday, in that muddled bit of midafternoon Clint never knows what to do with when he isn’t training. He curls up with Lucky on the couch and naps through the end of his whole damn life. And that, honestly, is pretty much perfect.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Baseball; Implied/Referenced Homophobia; Internalized Homophobia; Team as Family; Fluff and Angst; Mutual Pining; Idiots in Love Word Count: 36k+ (rec by – tumblr: @1968bullittmustang: ‘one of my all-time favorite au’)

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Patricia the Superior Vehicle: The Helpfulness Mission by Aelfay, pietray, Sagacity, Twindragons

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42875178

Summary: The Soldier is doing his best. He’s not quite up to trying to deal with Rogers, Steven G. (Captain), but he’s found another way to be helpful: keeping an eye on one Clint Barton. He’s kind of a mess, but that just gives the Soldier more ways to help, right?

Clint is confused about why Natasha keeps following him around – he keeps seeing glimpses of black out of the corner of his eye. The constant presence means he’s a little suspicious of his next mission. Unfortunately, it’s still not enough to keep him from being caught.

In which: Clint sings the disco stick song, Patricia is a Superior Vehicle, and the Soldier buys underwear. A balance of humor and intimacy as Clint and Bucky both recover a little bit of who they are.

Tags: Kidnapping; Cabin Fic; Mission Fic; Hand Jobs; Frottage; Deaf Clint Barton; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Patricia the Superior Vehicle; Disco Stick; Fluff and Smut

Word count: 16k+

(self-rec by tumblr: @alchemistdoctor)

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What Happens in Vegas… by Aelfay, Twindragons

Summary: Clint gets sent to check on a 'friend' of Natasha's in Las Vegas. Only this place is really nice, and her 'friend' is hot as hell. How is he meant to cope!? Answer: he can't. Featuring bunny ears, a fluffy tail, and Clint never quite having enough clothes.

Tags: Pole Dancing; Aerial silks; casino – Freeform; Crack Treated Seriously; Looney Tunes – Freeform; Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship; Natasha Romanov is a good friend; Illustrated; Don't post on another site; Clint Barton loses it when Bucky pole dances; brief masturbation

Word count: 10k+

(self-rec by tumblr: @alchemistdoctor)

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Boys of Summer by Aelfay

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711700

Summary:

Bucky wants a goat. He gets robots, a dog, and Clint Barton.

And the goat.

Tags: Trashcan the Goat; James "Bucky" Barnes; Clint Barton; Steve Rogers; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanov (Marvel); DUM-Ebite-Size; U (robot); Cricket (robot); Hamburger Helper (robot); Fidget (robot);

(self-rec by tumblr: @alchemistdoctor)

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Fair Game by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Summary:

...being courted by a wolf!shifter is hard.

When Clint accepts the Game Warden/Shifter Pack Liaison position in Willow’s Run he thinks he'll be signing hunting licenses and maybe writing a few tickets. He doesn't expect to start a brawl on day one, be claimed by the definitely scary Beta!Wolf Bucky on day two and begin what might be the worlds slowest courtship.

...oops?

Eventually Clint settles into his new role, strikes up a friendship with precocious scientist!Tony and a careful affair with Bucky. He navigates awkward shifter courtship rituals and misunderstandings, surprising romance and increasingly bitey kisses and for a while, all is well in the mountains.

But hunting season brings strangers to the town and when increased tension and broken rules bring up old prejudices and new fears, their quiet life turns dangerous.

Clint has his hands full with aggressive hunters, defensive pack members and a town pushed towards chaos.

Torn between the law and what his heart wants, the Game Warden knows something's gotta give--

--but will that 'something' end up driving Bucky and the pack away?

Tags: winterhawk - FreeformStony – Freeform; Shifter AU; Wolf Shifters; Strangers to Lovers; True Mates; Matt Fraction's Hawkeye; Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship; awkward dating; Werewolf Courting; Hunters vs Shifters; Fluff and Humor; FunnyAngst and Feels; Mild Peril; Falling In Love; Developing Relationship; Awesome Clint Barton; Tony Stark Does What He Wants; Alpha Steve Rogers; Bucky Barnes Feels; Pack Dynamics; Hurt Characters; Hurt/Comfort; sex then feelings; Eventual love confessions; happily ever after guaranteed;

Word count: 139,000k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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if you were a mythical thing by Kangofu_CB

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42952029/chapters/107913444

Summary:

After winding up in hot water with the Ukrainian mob, Clint finds himself relocating to a small town in northern Indiana to work as an elementary school gym teacher, and finds his new home invaded by a series of suspiciously wolfish puppies determined to be Lucky's BFFs, and his life invaded by over zealously friendly neighbors determined to feed him. In a startling twist of events, three of his favorite students happen to be his next door neighbors, along with their ruinously hot single dad Bucky, who proves to be just as enamored of Clint as he is of Bucky.

What follows is a classic rendition of thirsting over the hot neighbor, bizarre small-town behavior, and so many puppies.

Tags: modern suburban fantasy au; Alternate Universe – Teachers; Kid Fic; Werewolves; disconcertingly friendly locals; puppy invasions; bizarre subtle interrogations; roving packs of scheming children; awkward seduction attempts via edible arrangements; a ruinously hot single dad; Werewolf Courting; Werewolf Mates; Oblivious Clint Barton; Protective Natasha Romanov; Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship; Alpha Steve Rogers; Peggy was and remains a spy and it shows; Sam Wilson is a Gift; First Dates; Slow Burn; the things werewolves find attractive are more surprising than you think; SexAnal Sex; First Time; fluff and joy and jokes mostly; No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Word count: 74k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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Lost & Found by mariana_oconnor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230097

Summary:

Clint Barton’s got a bag full of stolen money and a burning desire to stay under the radar. His old friends in the Carnival will be looking for him and they sure as hell won’t be happy. In a desperate attempt to stay off their radar, he ends up in Timely, a small town so far off the beaten track he’s surprised he even found it, and waits for Barney to comes and get him. Because Barney will be coming. Clint knows he will.

But there's something about the town. Maybe it's the strange wolf that watches him from the trees, and the way people finish conversations when he enters a room. Or it could be the bartender, Bucky, who decided to hate him on sight. Something’s going on in this small town, and Clint’s not sure if he’s jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Werecreatures; Werewolf Bucky Barnes; Werewolf Steve Rogers; Werefox Natasha Romanov; Protective Natasha Romanov; Carson's Carnival; Hard of Hearing Clint Barton; Canon Disabled Character; Bucky Barnes Has Issues; People Trafficking; forced cage fighting; dubiously consensual heavy petting; on the part of the petter; Pack Dynamics; Not Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics; But Steve is the alpha; Sheriff Steve Rogers; Bartender Bucky Barnes; Criminal Clint Barton; Werewolves; werewolves mate for life; Clint Barton's Excellent Self Esteem; Barney Barton's A+ Brothering; Barney Barton is not a good bro; WinterHawk Big Bang; Implied past emotional abuse; Identity Porn; Slow Burn; Enemies to Friends to Lovers; Public Sex; Inadvisable attitudes to wild animals; Seriously people; Don't Try This At Home; Clint Barton is not a good role model

Word count: 89k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

___________________ Mokusatsu by shadesfalcon (Wintershieldhawk)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227904

Summary:

Clint Barton has been strung along from abusive relationship to abusive relationship all his life. Not that he would use the word “abusive”. He would argue that, as a sub, he was born to take whatever it is his dom feels like throwing at him.

But even with that attitude, he’s nervous about his current situation. Trapped in a bureaucratically mandated relationship with not one but two doms is going to be difficult and dangerous. Especially since these two doms are both members of the Avengers themselves.

He hopes that whenever he disappoints them, they’ll have at least a little pity on him, even though he knows he won’t deserve it.

Tags: Alternate Universe – BDSM; Dom/sub; Power Imbalance; Communication Failure; and given that power imbalance those communications failures have real consequences; Spanking; Belts; Canes; Bondage; Hurt/Comfort; references to past abuse; accidental abuse; Unhealthy Relationships With Food; self-harming behaviors; Sub Clint Barton; Dom Bucky Barnes; Dom Steve Rogers; Domestic Violence; Sexual Content; Angst with a Happy Ending; Polyamory

Word count: 125k+ (rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

___________________ Speechless by sara_holmes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647540

Summary: It's not that Bucky doesn't want to talk. It's that sometimes (most of the time) he can't. So learning ASL is 50% getting around that slight issue and 50% getting Steve to shut his cake-hole about the necessity of him learning to speak again.

Well, to begin with. Then it's pretty much all about him falling head-over-heels for his incredibly hot - yet slightly tragic - ASL teacher.

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers; Deaf Clint Barton; ASL teacher Clint Barton; Mutism; Bucky Barnes Feels; Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship; Anxiety; Anxiety Disorder; Therapy; Physical Therapy; Mentions of PTSD; Steve and Bucky are ex military; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Happy Ending; Humor; Fluff; Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm; dumb boys; Falling In Love; an incident with an egg; Clint Barton is tragic and adorable and not as dumb as he makes out Word count: 10k+ (rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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Hipsters get Remembered, Legends Never Die by sara_holmes https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471969/chapters/41145935

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a broke millennial hipster and one-armed veteran who somehow ends up as a science project for Tony Stark, a PA for Steve Rogers and a fling for Clint Barton. What even is his life.

Tags: Modern Bucky Barnes; Awesome Clint Barton; Commander Rogers; SHIELD 2.0; War Veteran Bucky Barnes; Canon Disabled Character; Millennial Bucky; Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD; Recovery; Do not repost; Do not post to other sites Word count: 89k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth: ‘this is a different take with hipster!Bucky and he's annoying but in a good way lol’)

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This Just In by Noxnthea https://archiveofourown.org/works/44128362

Summary: George C @dapperdanman if I was Hawkeye this might be the worst day of my life. 1: I get the shit beat out of me. 2: I find out my Soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 3: I pass out while a villain is monologuing at me on live television and the internet makes a meme of me talking about sandwiches in my sleep.

Clint and Bucky are having a rough month, and the whole world has something to say about it.

Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe – Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; Identity Reveal; Light Angst; Humor; Epistolary; Chatting & Messaging; Social Media; News Media; Texting; Twitter; reddit; YouTube; POV Outsider; The Avengers vs their worst foe yet: the media; Clint vs his self-esteem; Slow Burn; Even though the news moves fast; Steve Rogers Rages Against The Machine; Clint Barton Needs a Hug; Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug; Somebody tell these people to hire a PR team Word count: 29k+ (rec by tumblr: @southern-goth: ‘there's social media posts in this fic and it's so well written I could cry’)

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Complications by flawedamythyst https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700921/chapters/15325426 Summary:

Clint's got a plan to retire and go find himself a simple life at his family's old farm. Simple is good, right? Easy to remember. Simple is why he doesn't really mind that his soul-print has never activated, because a soulmate could only add another layer of complexity to his life.

And then the Winter Soldier turns up at his archery range on the Avengers base, and simple slips through Clint's fingers.

Post Age-of-Ultron (minus Clint's wife&kids) Soulmate AU.

Massive thanks to Chucksauce for betaing. Tags: Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie); Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; Main Pairing is Clint/Bucky; Mention of past violence towards children

Word count: 84k+ (rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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A Heart Worth Loving by Kangofu_CB

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34870519

Summary: Fate has it out for Clint Barton.

After a few too many heartbreaks, he's given up looking for his Soulmate; who needs happily ever after anyway? He’s perfectly content with his dog, his job, guarding eccentric billionaires, and drinking Natasha’s contraband vodka. Just ask anyone.

So he doesn’t think anything about inviting a random sex worker home for coffee to get him out of the cold - no need for any special company, thanks - because that’s just the decent thing to do. But when he keeps meeting Bucky again and again, it’s not fate he’s gotta worry about, it’s his heart.

Bucky’s just living his life. He’s got work he doesn’t hate, a degree program he loves, and and a side project out to prove Green Arrow's archery antics aren't possible outside the comics. He’ll meet his Soulmate when the time is right, but for now he’s content to wait.

But then his roommate pulls a Breaking Bad, leaving him caught up in an NYPD investigation, out of his regular work, and scrambling for a place to stay where his demon-cat won’t get them both evicted. Before he knows it, Clint is turning his whole life turned upside down, and Bucky thinks fate shouldn’t be tempting him.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Soulmates; Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; Sex Worker Bucky Barnes; Sex Work; Jewish Bucky Barnes; SHIELD Agent Clint Barton; SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanov; Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; War Veteran Bucky Barnes; Modern Bucky Barnes; Deaf Clint Barton; Past Relationship(s); Concussions; Forced Cohabitation; Miscommunication; Fake/Pretend Relationship; Angst and Fluff and Smut; Tony Stark Does What He Wants; Pop Culture References; Archery; Masturbation in Shower; Clint is emotionally constipated; Poor attempts at seduction; the love is requited but they're both idiots; Sex; (of course there's sex - I wrote this)

Word count: 82k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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something magic, something tragic by squadrickchestopher https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487004/chapters/69802917

Summary:

After making a fatal mistake on a mission, Clint Barton vanishes into the depths of the Midwest.

What he wants is to be left alone for a bit, to take a couple weeks of peace and quiet and get his mind straight.

Instead, he finds himself caught up in a nationwide game of cat-and-mouse with a brooding, metal-armed vampire.

Natasha’s right. He’s got the worst fucking luck in the world.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements; Supernatural Creatures; Vampire Bucky Barnes; Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug; Canon-Typical Violence; Deaf Clint Barton; Competent Clint Barton; some non-consensual biting; because Vampires; Attempted Kidnapping; Sassy Clint Barton; Other Additional Tags to Be Added; Enemies to Lovers; creative escapes; Non-Consensual Blood Drinking; Implied/Referenced Suicide; Drunken Kissing; Torture

Word count: 55k+

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth: ‘supernatural!Marvel’)

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Once Lost (now found) by Teeelsie https://archiveofourown.org/works/35419939Summary:

There’s a beat and then Phil says, “Clint, you don’t have anything to prove.”

And that stings, because, “If you think I’m doing this to prove anything to anyone, then you don’t know me half as well as I thought you did.” He hears Phil sigh on the other end of the comm. “Besides,” Clint tells him, “I’ll have back-up. I’ll have Barnes. Hawkeye out.” He reaches up and clicks off the comm, cutting off Phil’s continued objection mid-word.

Eight days these assholes have had Barnes and he’s not going to let them keep him for another hour, much less another day. He doesn’t have anything to prove, but he sure as hell isn’t going to give anyone any reason to question his actions, either. Tags: Whump; Hurt/Comfort; Blindness; On the Run; Blood and Injury; Self-Sacrifice; Hurt Bucky Barnes; Hurt Clint Barton; BAMF Bucky Barnes; BAMF Clint Barton; Developing Relationship; Rivals to Friends to WinterHawk Word count: 40k

(rec by tumblr: @southern-goth)

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blood on my hands, love in my heart by hawksonfire https://archiveofourown.org/works/33643102/chapters/83604322

Summary: The lines in the Soldier’s forehead are gone in his unconsciousness, leaving a relatively young looking top half of a face. Clint has to put his bow away to get the mask off him, but it slides off pretty easy and he sets it aside.

The instant he turns back and sees the Soldier’s face, his jaw drops. “Holy fuck,” he says, astonished. “You’re Bucky goddamn Barnes.”

Tags: Deaf Clint Barton; Mercenary Clint Barton; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Not Canon Compliant; BAMF Phil Coulson; Director of SHIELD Peggy Carter; boomerang arrow; Sassy Clint Barton; Sassy Phil Coulson; BAMF Clint Barton; Violence only in the first and second chapter; Home Renovations; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Clint Barton's Farm; Clint Barton's Shitty Childhood; PiningMutual Pining; Sexual Tension; Nightmares; Chickens; Domesticity; Bucky Patching Clint Up; Chickenus Interruptus; Sharing a Bed; Cuddling & Snuggling; Boys In Love; Boys Kissing; Clint Barton's Arms; Hand Jobs Word count: 12k+

(self-rec by @spacey-acey-artemis: ‘this one has Hawkeye meeting the Winter Soldier’)

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blood on my hands, love in my heart by hawksonfire

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33643102

Summary: What if, after Clint Barton was left for dead by his own brother, he didn't become Ronin and instead became someone else? This is the story about the Winter Soldiers, and how they became two

Tags: Winter Soldier Clint Barton; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Pining; Idiots in Love; mentions of torture; Mentions of brainwashing

Word count: 7k+

(self-rec by @spacey-acey-artemis: ‘this one has a fun twist on Winter Soldier Bucky’)

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The Storm Shall Not Wake Thee by dr_girlfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52165594

Summary: Following the events of CA:TWS, the Winter Soldier finds Hawkeye. Clint is still haunted by his own experiences with having his control stripped away, but together they find a way to heal.

Excerpt:

“How did you even … how are you tracking me?” Clint tries.

The question seems to confuse Barnes even further. He looks at Clint, and then somewhere behind Clint’s shoulder, and then back to Clint’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” Barnes says again.

“Listen,” Clint says, taking a step forward, and Barnes flinches back instinctively, stumbling for a moment.

“Whoa,” Clint says. Before he knows it he’s sheathing the knife and grabbing Barnes’ arm, steadying him. Barnes blinks rapidly a few times, wobbling a bit before he seems to find his balance again. His slate-blue gaze, so intent a moment ago, seems a little unfocused.

“When’s the last time you ate? Drank something? Slept?”

“I don’t know,” Barnes says, Clint mouthing the lines along with him.

Christ, Nat is going to kill him when she finds out about this, but there’s nothing else Clint can do.

“Well, c’mon in the house. We’ll get this figured out.”

Tags: winterhawk – Freeform; Canon Divergent; Post CA:TWS; Selkie Bucky Barnes; Selkies; Deaf Character; Deaf Clint Barton; Clint Barton Has ADHD; Demisexuality; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con; Canon Disabled Character; Secondary Relationships are Background; Matt Fraction-inspired Clint Barton; All Characters Outside of Winterhawk Are Very Background; Single POVPOV Clint Barton; Clint Barton Has Self-Esteem Issues Word count: 45k+

(self-rec by tumblr: @drgrlfriendrgrlfriend) (I also love their stuff, so consider this a rec from me as well! - Lynlee494)

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My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42901050

Summary: Four years after the Battle of New York, Clint has created a stable life for himself and his young daughter, free of the dangers of SHIELD work.

The Winter Soldier turned himself in to the Avengers, expecting a death sentence or lifetime of imprisonment. Instead, he found absolution and an invitation to join the team. He is still adjusting to life as an Avenger when he meets Clint Barton and his daughter.

The young man that Bucky Barnes used to be was wholeheartedly enthusiastic about meeting his soulmate, but Bucky is not sure there’s a place for him in his soulmate’s life anymore.

Clint has spent his whole life dreading meeting his soulmate, drawing false conclusions from the hurtful words that were spoken in haste. They are both drawn to each other and are willing to give this a try, but will have to work together to overcome the shadows of their past.

Excerpt:

It’s one of the largest soulmarks Bucky has ever seen. The script in Bucky’s neat cursive handwriting starts at the crest of one shoulder and arcs below Clint’s collarbones to end at the crest of the other shoulder, golden letters that no tattoo ink has ever been able to replicate.

What kind of idiot are you?

Tags: winterhawk – Freeform; AU; alternative universe; Soulmates; Alternate Universe – Soulmates; Soulmarks; Soul Bond; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; Single Parent Clint Barton; Single Parents; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; SHIELD Veteran Clint Barton; Secondary Relationships are Background; Deaf Character; Deaf Clint Barton; Jewish Character; Jewish Bucky Barnes; Picking Through Canon Like a Junkyard to Find the Parts I LikeSingle POV; Referenced Canonical Character Death (Phil Coulson); Mild Derogatory Language (e.g. Idiot and Stupid); Canon Disabled Character; Disabled Character; original robot character – Freeform; Harm to a Child in the Context of a Nightmare; Fluff Word count: 49K+ (self-rec by tumblr: @drgrlfriend)

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Freefall by dr_girlfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36074404

Summary:

It’s a small hunting cabin. It’s unlikely to have heat or electricity, and it looks uninhabited, but it’s shelter, and Clint is beyond relieved to have managed to make it within striking distance. Just a little longer … a little farther …

It takes him long enough that he would be ashamed under any other circumstances, but eventually he gets the lock open and swings the door wide.

“Fuck me.”

It’s a small one-room cabin, dark and dusty, and notable primarily for the fact that the fucking Winter Soldier is inside, straightening up from where he was hunched by the fireplace, drawing his knife. Tags: Discussion of Canon Child Abuse; Discussion of Canon Brainwashing; Seizures; Epilepsy; Fluff; SHIELD Agent Clint Barton; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Strike Team Delta (Marvel)Sharing a Bed; Sharing Body Heat; Stranded; Slow Burn

Word count: 49k+

(self-rec by tumblr: @drgrlfriendrgrlfriend)

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(Tell Me) It'll All Be Alright by Lynlee494

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54368605

Summary:

How do they do it? Boxed in like that. Back to the only open space around you? Sitting around all day. Nothing to do...” Clint’s voice is tinny through the comms. “Ooh, if you see any decent munchies, snag me a few. I missed dinner.”

“Hey, bird brain, focus. If we’re too late getting back, I can’t pick up Alpine from Kate’s till late tomorrow.” Bucky’s voice is low, while the building should be empty, they aren’t able to watch all the entrances from Clint’s angle on the opposite building. A lot of this relies on the element of surprise and stealth.

"Dude, you just walked past a break room.”

“Are you looking for stray guards, or are you looking for snacks?”

“Both, of course.” Clint scoffs on the open mic. “Wait! Nine o'clock!”

Bucky growls but reaches out and grabs a handful of caramels from a desk and puts them in the breast pocket of his tactical vest.

“You’re the best.”

“Shut up, Barton.”

Tags: Missions Gone Wrong; Hurt/Comfort; Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug; Hurt Bucky Barnes; Protective Clint Barton; Clint & Bucky’s Mutual Love for Explosions; Canon-Typical Violence; Clint Barton Needs a Hug; Bucky Barnes Needs A Bandaid; Whump; Clint Barton is a BAMF; Unreliable Narrator; Matt Fraction-inspired Clint BartonClint Barton Doesn't Have A Secret Family; winterhawk - Freeform; sniper bros; Pre-Slash

(self-rec by Lynlee494: *see above reference to 'shameless')

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Barton and Barnes, the Marvelous Ex-Assassins by Lynlee494

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50450977

Summary: It wouldn’t have been so bad, Bucky could have shrugged this off easily once he caught his breath, but he found the more he pulled to free himself the worse it seemed to be. Barnes thinks he hears shouting, but it is distorted and drowned out by the pounding in his ears. Ripping further at the trap that was furthering ensnaring him he found himself snarling and just ripping at it with brute strength and panicked rage that echoed of the Asset’s frustrated rampages through Hydra personnel.

Tags: Hurt Bucky Barnes; Whump; Bucky Barnes Whump; Hurt/Comfort; Whumptober; Whumptober 2023; Day 1 Prompt; Safety Net; Panic; "How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?"; Circus Performer Clint Barton; Circus Has Come To Town; Canon-Typical Violence; Bucky Barnes Recovering; Panic Attacks; Alternative Prompt; Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes; Clint Barton Feels; Dehumanization; preslashwinterhawk - Freeform

(self-rec by Lynlee494: *see above reference to 'shameless')

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I Don't Remember How by AvaKelly (Part 1 of Kitty)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/308049

Summary:

"How the hell did they wash you," he mutters as he raises from the chair.

"Hosed the blood down," comes from behind as the Soldier follows him toward the bathroom.

Clint almost screams right then and there.

Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie); Where Was Clint Barton During Captain America 2?; the farm house; Gif Inspired; Oblivious Clint; there's a kitty; Memory Loss; clint adopts assassins; clint is in denial

Word count: 7k+ (Part 1) (rec by tumblr: @nana-evans) (assistance from tumblr: @therulingqueen)

___________________ Nameless by AvaKelly

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827387

Summary: A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there." Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Past meetings; starcrossed assassins (not really); Memory Loss; Tattoos; jules verne references; Canon-Typical Violence; Hurt/Comfort; Recovery; Infinity Gems; Time Loop; Time Travel; Slow Burn; Action; Rescue Mission; Saving the World; mentions of torture; Tearjerker; Healing; obliviously falling in love

Word count: 101k+ (rec by tumblr: @nana-evans) (assistance from tumblr: @o-kaythislooksbad)

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Author recs:

'Definitely try squadrickchestopher’s and teeelsie’s fics!' teeelsie: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teeelsie/pseuds/Teeelsie/works

(rec by tumblr: @jinxquickfoot)

(rec by tumblr: @broken--bow ) -- squadrickchestopher: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher/works

(rec by tumblr: @jinxquickfoot)

--

Lissadiane: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissadiane/pseuds/Lissadiane

(rec by tumblr: @sishal01)

--

‘I'm shocked that no one has recommended ArtaxLivs yet--particularly the True Colors series; Through the Looking Glass; Both, Both is Good; And the Stockings Were Hung; and The Happiest Place on Earth. The character insight! The inner anguish! The humor! The smut! ’

ArtaxLivs: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtaxLivs/works

(rec by tumblr: @feistygina )

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***I was unable to find the following, however: ‘You should check Ava Kelly's "Kitty" series for Clint finds Bucky, it's awesome! Also, "Nemo", from the same author’ (rec by tumblr: @nana-evans) ***If anyone has a link? I tried to find both author and stories, and failed.

Thank you to @therulingqueen and @o-kaythislooksbad! The above fixed are now at the end, right before the 'Author Recs'!

[just-french-me-up]

#48 for the ask prompts! ❤️

N°8 : A kiss out of habit

Now buckle up for a Dreamling Green Knight AU ! I had to fist fight myself not to go overboard with this!

It had caught Hob off guard, on the first day. The lady of the castle giving him a kiss had had him dread the return of her lord husband, for they had agreed to exchange the day's earnings, and what else had there been to trade, but the kiss he had been given?

The lord had accepted it, stoic against Hob's trembling lips. In return, Hob had been given a story, a tale of the lord's invention that day. His mind worked beautifully, and Hob had watched his lips as they gave life to unearthly tales, drinking each word in like sweet wine.

On the second day, the lady's kisses had gone from surprising to intriguing. Hob had passed them on that very evening, the lord's scent now familiar as their noses had brushed together, trading breath for breath. The lord had been less stoic then. Hob could remember the knock of his heart against his chest as the lord had pressed his lips to his, opening Hob's mouth into something beyond transactional. Less chaste.

Hob had paid little attention to the lord's tale, that night. He had pretended to, of course, nodding his head, interjecting here or there, but his attention had wandered elsewhere. In the sharp line of his host's jaw. In the pale shade of his eyes, where the flames of the fireplace seemed to burn brighter still. He had itched to kiss him again, feel that fervor again. Patience. They had agreed on three nights, hadn't they?

On the third day, the lady's kisses had become a habit. Hob had expected them. Hoped for them. The poor woman's advances remained unanswered, Hob politely refusing anything further. All he could think about was the evening, when the lord would find him and ask for his earnings.

But the lord was late.

Night had fallen, dinner had been served, eaten, plates taken away, and there was no sign of the lord of the castle.

When the hour had become unreasonable, Hob retired to his bedchamber, pacing the fine floors. The morning would see him leave his hosts' care, for he had agreed to meet the Green Knight at the green chapel. He would die then, he was sure of it. A blow for a blow. He would die without having given the lord his due. How could he bear it?

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Hob approached it, apprehension and hope both tugging at his stomach. Could it be the lord? Or his wife, seeking him out to attempt to seduce him once more, in her husband's absence?

Standing at the threshold was his host, his black hair slightly damp. His clothes were perfectly dry, but Hob noticed the mud on his shoes. He must have come here straight away, he told himself, far from indifferent to the implications.

"Apologies," the lord said. "My duties have kept me away longer than I realised."

"I thought so," Hob lied.

"I could send for a servant to rekindle the fire in the hall, so we may trade there."

"The household has gone to bed," Hob countered smoothly, keen on the idea of them there, alone. "Let us not disturb them. Perhaps we may conduct our trade here?"

He stepped back, showing the inside of his chambers. The lord seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed to follow Hob in, closing the door behind them. There they stood. Alone. Hob swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they were. They had stood close before, as one must when kissing another, but this felt... intimate. Illicit, almost, in the most intoxicating way.

"Well?" the lord asked. "What have you earned today, Ser Gadling?"

Without a word, Hob inched closer, his hands behind his back. The lord did not flinch at he leant forward, meeting his lips in a slow embrace. They came apart in a soft sigh, the lord's eyes fluttering open as Hob leant back.

"What else?" his host asked, almost as a challenge.

The second kiss was more daring, earning Hob a few more sighs. He held the lord's chin as his tongue brushed his, hunger pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he stopped himself, pulling back. The man was flushed now, his back almost to the door. Hob could not say he disliked the sight. If anything, it called to him, wild thoughts sprouting in his mind of how else he'd like to see this lord, pretty pink mouth and all.

"Is this how this earning was given to you?" the man whispered. He did not sound angry. He didn't even sound curious, really. Only wanting.

"No," Hob's thumb trailed from his chin to his lower lip, tracing the plump, glistening flesh there, hot breath blowing in his skin, threatening to undo him. "This is how you shape it."

"This was not in the rules," the lord pointed out, though he did not move. If anything, Hob could have sworn he was closer. "Is this all?"

"Not quite."

The third kiss was ravenous, Hob pouring his longing and desires into the embrace, pushing the lord against the door until their bodies were entwined, hands grasping for more, pulling fabric as though to meld them together. They were both out of breath by the time they pulled back, lips inches apart.

"I must be gone in the morning," Hob rasped. "I fear I won't come back. I shall meet my end there."

The lord observed him, almost intrigued.

"Stay," Hob asked, on the verge of begging.

"The trade―"

"Tell me your story in the morning, before dawn. Close the trade then. Stay."

"I can not, for you must receive my end of the bargain tonight."

Hob shook his head, desperate to keep him close.

"Keep it. I do not want it. I want you."

Slowly, the man raised a hand to Hob's hair, cupping the back of his head, and kissed his forehead.

"Have I ever told you my name, Hob?"

Hob stared at him, at a loss. Now that he mentioned it...

"No. You haven't."

"I am Dream, Prince of Stories. Such is the nature of my offering, tonight."

Hob frowned, confused. Prince? His host had always had a regal flair to him, but he could never have imagined...

"Dream? You're offering me a dream? How?"

"It hardly matters."

Dream's hand fell from Hob's hair to his cheek, his caress soft, but clearly meant to break the tension between them.

"Go to bed, Hob Gadling. Close your eyes, give yourself to sleep. I may visit you in more ways that one."

Hob pressed Dream's hand to his cheek, refusing to let go. Such promises could not be. The body against his was flesh and bones, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the touch into his memory, the warmth of his skin. By the time he opened his eyes, the lord was gone, as though he'd vanished into thin air, and he was left cradling his own hand, empty.

Hob stared at the door, dejected. Now that he was alone, what else was there to do but lie in bed, waiting for the morning of his death? How could he sleep, knowing where he was headed? Yet curiosity wormed its way through his despair, making him glance back at the bed waiting for him.

He was to be given a dream. One last dream. And his host had ever been gifted at telling stories. How could he refuse him?

Send me a kissing prompt?

[wriothesleybear]

heyy, it’s the anon that requested for wrio’s spicy massage. No worries at all, I have definitely spent a considerable amt of time thinking about caressing wrio’s thick, muscley, sinful *gets shot*

Needless to say your first write-up still scratched that itch 😳

p.s - looking forward to the new version hehe

lmao ily massage!anon🥹❤️i'm glad you still liked my previous version! i think i have too much of Wrio's cock-..Wrio on my mind. Wrio's on my head 24/7. i can't help it ;-; i hope you enjoy this version as well anon! i'll post it here just for you. i may have gone a little overboard..given the 2k word count. anyways, have a lovely day massage! anon🥰!

~warnings: massage that turns into sex, wrio pampering fem!reader, pussy eating, fingering, overstimulation, mentions of cum and squirting, and some fluff at the end, MDNI!

Word count: 2,247

Wriothesley noticed how stressed you've been lately due to work. The massive amounts of paperwork, the late nights and overtime to finish the work you haven't finish during your work time, having to deal with clients, coming home late and not even having the energy to eat the cold dinner he left for you or even changing out of your clothes into your pajamas. He understands what that is like and you helped him relieve his stress so he wants to do the same for you. When Friday came, you were finally able to catch up with work and leave on time to make it home for dinner with Wriothesley. You wanted to relax and celebrate with him by going out to the surface and having dinner at your guys' favorite restaurant. You couldn't help the excitment you felt when going down the long elevator ride to the Fortress.

Once off the elevator, you immediately head over to your boyfriend's office, wanting to surprise him. You open the door to his office and close it behind you. When you turn around, you notice rose petals all over the floor, leading to your shared bedroom door. You're surprised but curious so you follow the road of rose petals. You open the door to your shared bedroom and gasp when you see the room. The path of rose pedals led to your shared bed, where more pedals decorated the blanket. The room's light is off and is instead lit up by the lavender scented candles surrounding the room. As the smell hits your nose, you immediately feel relaxed. You wonder where your boyfriend is and call out his name. He appears from the other doorway in your room that leads to the bathroom. You notice all he's wearing is his boxers, making you blush, "Welcome home my love," he says as he walks towards you. Grabbing your hand, he kisses the back of it. "I see you were able to make it home on time today." It takes a few seconds for you to gain your train of thought back from admiring his body. Stumbling, you answer him, "Y-yeah. I finished all my work and wanted to come home and surprise you, but I see you already had a surprise for me."

"I know how stressed from work you've been lately and I wanted to help you relieve some of that stress." You blush and smile, touched by the gentle act of your boyfriend. He closes the door behind you and takes you by the hand, guiding you towards the bed. Letting go of your hand, he moves towards the top button of your blouse. He pauses and looks at you, searching for your consent to continue. You smile and nod your head, signaling yes. He smiles back and begins unbuttoning your blouse. It drops to the floor. He gently turns you around, your back facing him as he unclasps your bra, letting that fall to the floor as well. He has you turn back to face him. His hands move down to your skirt, unzipping the zipper on the side and letting it slip down your legs. He holds your hand to steady you as you step out of your skirt. Lastly, he slips his fingers inside the band of your panties, hooking them and slowly sliding them down your legs. Bending down to kneel at your feet, he lifts one left at a time, removing your underwear and tossing it in the pile of your clothes. As he stands up, he slowly glides his fingers, up your legs, your thighs and to your hips and waist, sending shivers down your spine. "Lay down on your stomach." You do as he says and lay on the bed, back facing him. He grabs something from the bedside table and kneels on the bed beside you. You're unable to see what he's doing as you hear a click from beside you and the sound of him rubbing something between his hands.

A few seconds later, his strong hands begin to rub against your back, massaging your tense muscles. You feel the warm slick on his hands from the massage oil. He starts from the middle of your back, slowly moving up towards your shoulders, then back down to your lower back. He gently adds pressure to get the knots out. You let out a moan, letting him know how good his massage feels. You move your head, face in the covers and arms to your sides, giving him better access to your neck and shoulders. He takes the signal and focuses on massaging there. He hears your moans muffled in the covers, making him laugh under his breath. "Does it feel that good?" You lift your head, making it easier for you to talk clearly. "Yes, it feels great Wrio. You're really helping the stress leave my body." He smiles at your praise. His hands massage down towards your hips, to the back of your legs, giving them attention as well. Fingers pushing on the right areas to relieve the tension and built up stress. Once he's done with your legs, he slowly moves back up your thighs, making sure to cup your ass and massage it a bit, then back up to your back. You sort of wished he would go back down to your ass and give it more attention, but then he tells you to flip over. You listen to him and flip over onto your back.

He adds more oil to his hands, mixing it between his hands and goes on to massage your arms. You watch and notice how focused he looks on getting all the knots out of your hands. You smile, knowing how sweet of a boyfriend you have. While lost in your thoughts, your eyes begin to admire other features of your sexy boyfriend. Such as his nice, buff biceps, and his strong, back full of muscles. You think about how nice his chest looks and his chiseled abs. How good his thick thighs look and how delicious his co-

You're broken out of your thoughts by your boyfriend calling your name. "Hm? What?"

"I asked you if you were okay. You looked lost in thought." He asks. "Oh! I'm ok. Just..thinking about how nice the massage feels is all." He only hums in reply, but he noticed how your eyes were scanning his body and how your thighs tighten together. He smirks to himself. He finishes massaging your arms and moves down to your legs, starting from your feet first and slowly moving up. When he finally gets to your thighs, he massages and teases you by rubbing the inside of your thighs, getting close to your core, but never directly touching it. You quietly whimper. His hands glide up your hips, to your stomach, and to your waist. You can tell he's teasing you by missing the areas you want him to touch the most.

Once he's done with teasing you, his hands go to cup your breasts, slowly massaging them. You moan, enjoying the feeling of his strong hands groping your chest. He pinches your nipples, sending shocks down your spine. "Wrio~" you moan his name. He replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking on one nipple while teasing the other. Eventually, his hand glides down your stomach to your pussy. He rubs his fingers between your folds, making sure to massage your clit and tease your hole. The massage oil makes it easier for his fingers to slip into you with ease. He pumps his fingers into you at a slow pace, wanting to take his time with helping you feel good. The tenderness of your boyfriend as he fingers you and sucks on your nipple pushes you over the edge. You moan and spasm around his fingers as you come undone. He continues to finger you through your high until you finally come down.

He finally stops his movements and gets up. He grabs a pillow and puts it under your ass, elevating your lower half. You're about to ask him what he's doing, but soon lose your train of thought as he passionately kisses you. His lips move to your cheek, peppering kisses down to your neck, your chest, across your tummy, and down to your thighs. Laying on his stomach, he lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders. As his warm breath hovers over your core, you shyly ask him what he's doing. "Don't worry. Just lay back and relax. Let me do all the work. I'll make sure all the stress leaves your body by the time we're done." His reassuring words help you relax and you allow him to please you. He licks a stride up your folds, making you shiver. He spreads you open a bit more, giving him better access to eat you out. He leaves a kiss on your clit then circles his tongue over it. His tongue moves down to your hole, teasing your entrance. He wraps his lips around your clit and suckles, sending electricity up your body. You moan and comb your fingers through his hair, moving his fluffy hair out of his eyes. He moves his attention back down to your entrance, thrusting his tongue inside of you. While his tongue explores your insides, his nose rubs against your clit. His pace picks up as you get closer to your second orgasm. Your legs shake as your moans get louder, calling out his name. You finally cum on his face, where he happily licks up your juices. You push on his head when his continuous licking begins to overstimulate you, but he doesn't budge. He instead pushes a finger inside you as he sucks on your clit, shaking his head to add more stimulation. You curse as your hips shake.

It doesn't take you long to cum again, squirting on his face as you cry out from the pleasure. You breathe heavily as he comes up from between your legs. He leans over you and kisses you, pushing his tongue in your mouth and intertwining with yours You taste your essence on his tongue. He pulls away and gets up to pull his boxers off. Kneeling on the bed, he positions himself between your legs, making sure the pillow beneath you is still holding you up, elevating you at the right position for his cock to easy slip into you. He grabs his cock and fists it, covering it with the massage oil left on his hand. Holding your legs open, he rubs the head of his cock between your folds, prodding your entrance. He slowly eases himself inside you, his thick cock filling up your tight pussy. You both moan as he settles deep inside, all the way to the hilt. Slowly pulling his cock out to the tip, he pushes it back inside you all the way. He repeats this, going at a slow pace as he watches his cock disappear inside you. His gaze moves to your face as he begins to quicken his pace, watching the pleasure contort your features. "Faster Wrio." You moan out.

"As you wish." He puts your legs on his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs, holding your legs against him. He thrusts into you at a quickened pace, pelvis hitting against your ass. The new position makes it easier for him to repeatedly hit your most sensitive spot. Your head falls back as you grip the sheets, cursing from the mind-breaking pleasure as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. You cry his name as you cum, body twitching and shaking.

His pace doesn't let up though and he continues pounding into you. You become overstimulated again, but you can't help yourself from wanting more. "Cum in me Wrio." You're barely able to let out those words as your brain becomes clouded with pleasure as you near your next orgasm. But he heard you. He's getting close as well, due to your walls continuously spasming around his cock. He lets your legs go and wraps them around his hips. Wrapping an arm around you and holding you close, he uses his free hand to vigorously rub your clit as he continues to rut into you. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding tightly, in search of finding something to hold onto as the pleasure becomes too much. You gaze into each other's eyes as you both get closer to falling over the edge. You lean into one another, lips meeting for a passionate kiss. You finally cum, squirting on his cock which causes him to follow as well. His cock spurts thick ropes of cum into you, filling you up with his warm seed. He falls beside you as you both try to catch your breaths. You both just lay there, holding each other as you come down from your highs.

Wriothesley eventually pulls his cock out and lays beside you, pulling you close to him. You hear the fast beating of his heart as you lay your head on his chest, eyes feeling heavy. "Thank you for the massage Wrio." You sleepily say. He kisses the top of your head. "I'm glad you liked it, my love. Let's get some food at our favorite place once we get some rest." You smile, giving a quiet 'mhm' in agreement, and nuzzle further into his chest. Soon, you fall asleep in your boyfriend's comforting arms.

[meganegatari]

going to the library with girlfriend ellie.

☆: another random, self indulgent af blurb. i love libraries, and ellie, and drabbles, and writing fluffy things for y'all. this one's definitely not my best work, but i really wanted to put a little something out anyway. there's something so healing about writing fluff.

trek, trek, you hear behind you, as you race through the endless sea of tall shelves, the musty scent of old paper filling your nose. like a machine you scan the aisles, picking up book after book excitedly. you open it, read and decide, yes, this one too! the peace of libraries has always brought you comfort, and hallucinating whilst staring at a dead tree reading has always been your favorite activity. but you’ve run out of things to read which warranted yet another trip to the greatest place on earth. unfortunately for her, you've tasked ellie to be the carrier of all the novels.

"baaaaabe, do you really need this many??" she whines and pouts, as she trails behind you and struggles to keep up.

you turn back to look at her, almost stumbling with a huge stack in her arms which is almost taller than her, it's honestly unbelievable how she hasn't toppled over yet. she frowns at you, earning a chuckle on your part. she's so cute.

"just a little more! you agreed to come with me, els, you knew what you were signing up for. and yes i do need that many, books are my life. books and you, of course."

"but my arms are gonna fall off..." she steadies herself and huffs. "fine, but let's sit down in a few minutes, 'kay?"

grinning widely and and nodding, you take a few of the books from the top to ease the weight, then you skip off happily once more to peruse the shelves, searching for something to grasp your attention, and vaguely convinced you heard ellie tsk-ing behind you. after a bit she goes to sit down on the armchairs in a little corner with a cozy lamp, slumps into the cushions with a grunt, and is relieved she can finally set down the stack she was carrying. you're too absorbed in walking around to notice, but ellie is watching you with a smile from her seat, wondering how in the world she got lucky to have such a curious minded, smart, and loving girlfriend. you meant the world to her. as you scampered around, collecting more and more books, you catch her eye and wave, and her heart just about jumps out of her chest then and there.

when returning to your tired girlfriend, she's keeping herself occupied by checking out the synopses on all the books, with genuine interest.

"i'm back!" you say in a cheery tone, cheeks warming as you add, "may have gone a bit overboard this time, sorry for making you carry it all."

"hey! no, no, i love doing this with you. honest." she smiles warmly back at you, taking half the stack you're carrying in her arms, dividing the entire haul between the two of you. the two of you begin to walk to the desk to check out, until her emerald eyes light up and she remembers, "do they carry comics here?"

"uh, i think so.."

"BE RIGHT BACK-"

she suddenly dashes off with no warning, leaving you with the sighing librarian as she has to take a look to see what they've got.

this little outing turned out better than you had expected. next stop, a hole in the wall cafe for some lunch.

☆: not sure how i feel about this one honestly, but wanted to write a little something. hope y'all still like it! oh also, does the tiny text bother y'all? lemme know and i'll use the regular one, this one's aesthetically pleasing to me, but could be annoying. ellie n her comics own my heart.