#thor: -_- you shall celebrate!!

[worstloki]

The comedy of brodinsons dragging random cultural biases with them from Asgard is so fun. They should be sexist to people's faces and roll their eyes when anyone says anything about it

[lokisgoodgirl]

In the Bleak Midwinter [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found. (w/c 3.4k) Warnings: None, really. Fluff. Bit of angst. Brief reference to erotic fantasy. Loki in his Christmas feels. A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Season's Greetings my loves❤️ I hope all your days are merry & bright. 🎄

Loki’s hands dug deeper in his pockets with every methodical crunch of his boots into the snow.

The outline of the church was visible; the kind reproduced on a hundred greetings cards which had landed in Loki’s fanmail these past weeks. The cards, at least, he could ignore. Tony Stark’s ‘Olde Christmastime getaway’, it seemed, he could not.

The small church had a thick, proud steeple; old uneven walls arranged on either side in a way he was sure his brother would imminently compare to a cock and balls.

"Brother," Thor chittered madly beside him. "Doesn’t the dwelling yonder resemble—?"

Loki yanked a hand from his pocket and brushed it along a low wall running adjacent to the path. He lobbed a clutch of snow into Thor’s ruddy face and kept walking. He was in no mood for japes.

His eyes stung from the sharp, needling cold. The night was clear, and only his breath fogged the view of this place the gaggle of Avengers who insisted on ‘involving’ him hadn’t stopped wittering on about for months. Soon, they would realise he only spoiled the occasion. A perennially cracked door sending a draught through their warm surroundings.

A carol concert, he mused bitterly, shaking his head for the third time since leaving the toasted seclusion of his armchair at the lodge. Of all things he did not wish to partake in this weekend, the carol concert occupied prime position on Loki’s list of grievances.

I will go, he’d decided as Thor had forcibly manoeuvred Loki’s coat onto his body. But I shall not make merry. Loki of Asgard would not be caught dead engaging publicly in festive frivolities of any kind. Of that, he was resolved.

A soft, amber glow pulsed at the criss-crossed windows of the church. With a swell of hope, he wondered if the building was, in fact, unsalvageably ablaze. Perhaps, there would be no carol concert after all.

A vision of the cup of spiced wine he’d been rudely separated from flashed through his mind. Perhaps, it would still be steaming on his imminent return. Thor yanked his arm roughly towards the wooden doors with one thick mitten emblazoned with crudely stitched glazed hams.

"Un-hand me. This is Armani, you cretin."

"We’re already late, and I don’t want to miss a second. Besides, there are candles. You love candles."

Loki sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Thor had fallen for this seasonal, mortal farce. The fact that they were once worshipped and celebrated thus in their own realm had escaped Thor in a way it had not escaped Loki. It was to be expected, but still, as his cheeks pinched against the cold, it grated.

Behind wood and stone, an organ groaned to life and a low chorus of unsure voices rose.

“Once in Royal David’s City, Stood a lowly cattle shed…”

Thor yanked harder and Loki felt his feet unroot from the crushed ice. The voices were stronger now, coming together as one, melodious snake slithering against his iced eardrums.

Thor paused with one mitten on an iron knob, the other fastened to Loki’s Armani. Snot dangled from his nose. “Try and be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” His brother’s eyes narrowed and he relented. “Courteous, at least.”

Thor’s lips pinched. “You know what I mean…Festive.” Loki would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t sure they were frozen. He released a snort of fogged air from his nose instead. “Open the door lest we both expire in this winterous wasteland,” he said, and Thor’s face brightened.

“That’s more like it.”

The church was warmer than he’d expected. He stood at the threshold and brushed a dusting of snow from his cuffs as Thor lumbered down the aisle and made a cartoonish, indelicate attempt to sidle his bulk into a row; a boisterous whispering of apologies clashing with the turn of the organ.

“When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around…”

Loki flinched as the voices tapered and the organist released a crescendo of bone-shuddering notes. And then, he stumbled.

“Norns,” he growled, a little too loudly in the incense-heavy silence.

He regained his balance and looked down at the small child looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. They were holding out a booklet with curled, yellowed edges. Shoddy workmanship, Loki thought as he took it with a curt nod and turned it over.

St Barnabas Church Carol Concert, it read, accompanied by a garish cartoon holly faded to a light beige. The years below it, beginning at 2002, had been scored out until whomever was in charge gave up in 2014. He sniffed, observing the child with suspicion. "I don't have any coin, if that is what you seek.”

The child’s hand was touching his hand; her small fingers like matchsticks curled around his own. She wore a sheepskin jacket that was a size too big. Not tailored, clearly, and the collar hid her mouth—yet he could tell she was smiling. He glanced to the side, noticing for the first time that every member of the audience was staring.

Natasha hung out of a row halfway down, a black fur hat low on her brow, and beckoned to the little girl. “He’s with us,” she hissed. The organ burst to life with some other musical hokum in defiance of the interruption.

Loki looked back to the little mortal. She said nothing, just led him at a glacial, imperious pace down the aisle and stopped at the correct row. Her auburn curls shimmered in the low light, bouncing.

“Oh, guess there’s no room at the inn…” Natasha winked. “Go behind.”

Loki met his brother’s smug grin one row back. He knew that smile: the plotting smile.

The small pocket of warmth that had been growing in his belly extinguished. And then, he noticed who stood beside him at the end of the row. Loki swallowed.

Thor had all but climbed over you in order to ensure it would be he, Loki of Asgard, standing beside you like a stiff, tuneless, merryless fool. His eyes slid back to his brother, sucking in his cheeks, wondering if punching out a sibling’s teeth was considered ‘festive’.

“There’s room, don’t worry…” you whispered, shuffling your gloves further along the scratched, wooden pew. The smile playing on your lips made Loki want to carve out his own heart in longing.

He edged gingerly into place, staring at the booklet in his hands. And then, your fingers were touching his, moving the pages, your woody perfume thick in his nostrils. He closed his eyes, willing the stir in his groin to cease. His brother would perish for this.

“Your hands are cold,” you whispered, giving his knuckle a brief rub with one, elegant finger. Like my heart. Loki swallowed again, observing the attendees and trying to ignore the unmistakeable correlation of your hot breath skating his neck to the twitch beneath his trousers.

The church was packed. Families, lovers, white-haired humans swaying and their creaking voices tumbling with the rest; the booklets resting unopened. They knew every word.

He fixated on the stone altar, the golden casket behind it glittering in the light. It reminded him of the Tesseract, and with that memory came a familiar twinge of guilt like the slip of a knife between his ribs.

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie... "

He moved his lips out of time, faintly recognising the music. As much as he’d tried to avoid it this year and last, the songs playing from your room in the Tower come December 1 were hard to ignore. And perhaps, if he were honest, he hadn’t tried very hard.

You always sang along to them when your mind wandered. It was the only part of Christmas he’d come to favour. And the candles: those too.

“Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by…”

Your finger traced along the lines of the book you shared as if he were a child. He should be insulted; and yet there was something about the tender movement, and your shoulder pressed to his that made him want to nest in this moment and never leave. Your voice was different here. It had a meeker cadence, as though you were stifling the volume and its capabilities to as not to embarrass the quality of those around you.

I’ve heard how she really sounds, he thought smugly as he cast a quick glance at his brother. Perhaps I’m the only one who has.

Thor held the booklet at arm’s length, a millimetre from the back of Stark's head, the baritone of his singing rivalling the organ. His neck swivelled slowly towards Loki. He winked.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light…” Loki inhaled sharply, before fitting the words into the repetitive notes with a whisper. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” he sang quietly, voice hoarse. “Are met in thee tonight.”

You squeezed his bicep, the heel of your palm resting on his forearm. Loki stiffened, missing the start of the following verse. He turned fractionally, meeting your eyes glittering in the light of a hundred candles flickering. Gods, you were so beautiful.

He tore away.

Stop it, he chided, letting his eyes focus and refocus on a thick, white candle dripping rivulets near the altar.

He couldn’t afford the weakness that sentiment brought. One had to be wary of sentiment at this Christmastime of theirs. It was too easy to be tricked by the lure of cinnamon and the twinkle of lights like stars; drunk on new beginnings and the gluttony of temporary happiness. Loki knew what came of such things for him. He didn’t intend to make the same mistakes. Not here.

The carols began, and ended. And with each one, Loki felt the itch of sweat grow beneath his armpits, seeping into the fine cotton shirt. Five carols ago, the god had to ban himself from touching his hair like a senseless virgin. It was intolerable; to have you so close, to smell the linger of spiced gingerbread latte on your breath as your tongue shaped across each lyric, and do nothing. And what would you do? Kiss her? Force yourself upon her like an animal? He stilled the fidget of the hand hanging at his side.

You were kind, that was all. Pleasantries. Courtesies. You wanted him no more than he wanted to be at this godsforsaken carol concert.

The hand balancing the booklet began to tremble as intrusive thoughts formed in his mind of you and he curled under a blanket, barely watching those Muppet creatures he’d seen in passing, your soft whimpers as he sank inside you and rocked your curves gently against him. If the spiced wine grew cold then, he would not mind so much, perhaps.

His grip tightened on the booklet. “O’ Come, all ye faithful…” “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his brow scrunched. Your grip on his arm loosened. “Joyful and triumphant…” “Are you okay?” The journey of his gaze to your face seemed to take an age. Half of your skin was bathed in a soft, orange glow; the other shadowed as the chorus of voices grew louder; happier. A line had formed across your forehead. Concern? Maybe. Fear? Most likely.

Most of your hair was tucked under a hat, and yet he knew every strand beneath it. He’d envisioned the texture beneath his fingers more times than he had admitted to anyone. Even his Judas of a ham-fisted, scheming brother.

“I have to go." The flap of his overcoat hit the pew in a swirl and his boots were clicked on the bare stone floor towards the doorway. Eyes followed him, but he paid them no heed. They were better off without him. Within the small vestibule at the exit, a stout old man arranged a tray of mince pies. He turned just as Loki thundered past. “Oi,” the man hissed in a broad, Yorkshire accent. “Don’t forget yer pie.”

A foil-bedded pastry was thrust up towards Loki’s face as he fumbled with the door.

Loki paused, looked at it, and then the man. He had ragged, grey hair and a face carved with a thousand frowns. A worthy adversary.

Loki briefly considered making the pastry explode in a shrapnel of raisons, sighed, and thought better of it. As though they were not his own, his fingers plucked the small comestible from the old man’s hand.

“Wife made ‘em,” he said proudly, searching Loki’s face before his lips stretched in a smile over crooked, tombstone teeth. “Merry Christmas.” Loki mumbled something, twisted the knocker and fell out into the cold, crisp air. The god’s pulse pounded in his throat as he crunched down the path towards the crumbling gateposts; wind playing at the sides of his coat with delicate hands. At the boundary, he stopped. Loki steadied on a gatepost, head drooping. Hair fell around his face, fluttering against his flushed skin. “Are you going to eat that?”

He jumped, twisting around. There you stood, resplendent in moonlight from above and the glow of fresh fallen snow below. Your jaw worked; half a mince pie clutched in the hand not buried in your pocket. “They’re really good actually,” you said, pastry scattering from your lips before covering your mouth with a shy eye roll.

Loki’s lips tweaked. “Clearly. I wasn’t going to but now…I’m not so sure. It seems a valuable boon after all.”

At that, you nodded, crunching closer as you popped the remainder of the mince pie into your mouth. He spun around, gazing up to the sky, rolling his lips. She loves Christmas. Do not destroy it for her.

And then, you were at his shoulder. “So, about that mince pie…” There was a slyness in your voice that made him want to pin you against the gatepost and kiss you until you felt faint; until you couldn’t remember your own name, only his. He cupped a hand protectively over the pie, looking at you beneath his lashes.

“And what if I won’t part with it?” You shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll rethink my gift.” His heart sank, ill-gotten confidence fading. Loki had made it very clear last Christmas that he would not partake in the Avengers gifting foolishness. Had you forgotten? His stomach joined his heart somewhere around his boots.

“I…was not expecting a gift,” he said, curling a wedge of hair behind his ear. As he did so, the pie lost balance and fell with a pathetic plop to the snow. The two of you stared at it. “Norns,” Loki said, bereft. You burst out laughing as he began rooting in the hole. “I thought gods were supposed to be nimble, suave—all that stuff.” “Have you met my brother?” “I thought you were different.” The strange slyness was back in your voice. “I thought you were a bit more…”  Loki looked up, breath evaporating from his lungs as moonlight bounced off the fake jewels woven into your hat. She deserves every jewel in the nine realms. And then, you shrugged.

In a move he was sure he would later haunt him as he failed to fall asleep, Loki held the small, snow-laden mince pie aloft. An offering of contrition. Your lips flickered, and to his surprise, you took it. “My sincere apologies,” he mumbled. “It’s just a mince pie, Lokes.” “Not for that…” He sighed. “Were you speaking true about a gift? Because I…” You flapped a hand. “Everyone knows you don’t do gifts, you don’t like Christmas, yadda-yadda. But that’s not the point of gifts. I just…it belonged to you. For when you’re ready. Just…promise you won’t make it explode.”

Before Loki could think of a response, you’d produced a small box wrapped in brown paper from the depths of your jacket. His gaze lingered on it for longer than it should have before he said, “Ah.” Your eyebrows rose. “Are you going to open it?” “Should I?” He turned it over in his hands and your eyebrow rose. “It’s not a trick.” At that, his lips drew to the side. If it was a trick, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right frame of mind to deduce it. Loki’s heart pounded between his ribs, a sharp tang nestling in the back of his throat as he stared at the tightly curled ribbon hanging from the box. He wondered if you’d wrapped it here, or in the Tower, with him next door, lying in bed to the sound of your sporadic singing over Nat King Cole.

Your fingers covered his and tugged the ribbon gently. Loki’s breath hitched, eyes meeting. “Open it,” you ordered, and a hot shiver ran down Loki’s spine.

He pulled the ribbon free, then paused. “You should know…I don’t hate Christmas.” He searched your face. “It’s everything I love, you see. Or at least, I used to. Family, closeness, warmth, the feeling of hope for Spring, sprouting under the joy of light and feasting, the music…”

A lump grew in his throat, and he bit the inside of his lip to stifle it. “I find it easier to forswear, you see. It’s better for everyone that way. It seems that what I love has a habit of turning to ash.”

He didn’t realise he’d been fixated on the box under a gentle touch landed on his arm. When he looked up, you were waiting with glossy eyes, lips parted. “You don’t need to be apart from it, Loki. You deserve it…the same as any of us do.” “But—”

Your finger pressed to his lips, silencing it. “Open the box,” you said again, and the finger slid away. He did as he was bid. Inside was a Christmas bauble, polished to such a sheen he could see the sharp outline of his jaw reflected.

The base was a deep forest green, and on it, gold threads traced runes like frost clinging to spiderweb. “For when you’re ready,” you repeated, softer, as liquid heat flooded his chest. “You belong with us, Loki. I…we, love you.”

“It’s beautiful…I…” He licked his lips, making them tingle in the chill. A grin spread across your face.

“You really like it?” “I love it,” he said, not breaking eye contact. Boldness swelled inside him, lighting up the dusty corners of his frigid heart. You looked away, pulling your jacket tighter. Inside the church, the final flourish of 'O’ Come all Ye Faithful' blared.  He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your puffy bicep.

“You mean it? If you don’t, I can return it…” “I really do.” “Good, because it’s custom, and I can’t return it.” Loki laughed at the same time you did, noting the sparkle of your eyes. He drew you into his arms, memorising the way your bodies slotted together despite the layers, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I fear I must buy you a gift after all…” he said quietly. You pulled back, looking up at him with absolute sincerity. “What I want doesn’t come from a shop, Loki,” you said, breathless. Your eyes dropped to his lips as you cupped his face, the warmth of your skin sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. “I just want you to be happy, and I want…I want…”

Your words grew faint as flecks of snow began to fall. And with that, his resolve exploded.

The first kiss was tentative, skin brushing over skin as he waited for you to pull away. But your arms were thrown around his shoulders, clawing at the back of his Armani coat, pulling his mouth to yours with the ferocity of a winter sea.

Hot breath seared his throat, desire and adoration so thick it held weight bursting from the secret places he had boarded up and forgotten. All he wanted was you, and this, and Yule—wherever it was, and however it was celebrated. As long as he had you.

Eager lips slid together as one kiss broke and launched into the next. Something sharp and iron was poking into his back from the gatepost, but he didn’t care. It could rip a hole in the coat for all he cared.

As your delicate moans heightened, and your fingers knotted tighter into his hair, the applause started.

The two of you broke, twisting as one towards the band of a dozen Avengers making their way down the path. Natasha had her arms spread; eyes wide. Thor was frozen in place, mittens pressed to his cheeks with a soundless scream of glee. Scott was passing money to Sam, and then Tony, too. “It’s a Christmas…miracle,” Thor screeched.

"Sweet baby Jesus..." Stark muttered, fingers jammed in his ears as Loki drew you tighter to his chest, not caring if you felt the leap of his heart through thick wool. Your hand slipped through a gap, drinking the warmth of him, and when your eyes met; Loki couldn’t breathe. “When we return to New York, I shall need a Christmas tree to hang my gift,” he whispered, placing a kiss above your ear. You giggled into his snow dusted collar. “You can always start next year- no pressure.”

Loki cast a glance over the smiling figures bundled in bobble hats and thick scarves, to the amber-lit windows, to the snow stretching over hills and faintly glowing homes scattered across them.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured. And then, to the sound of cheers louder than the organ, he kissed you again.

Tags in comments 🎄✨

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Birthday Blues (Thor)

Summary: you're feeling crappy and alone on your birthday.

Warnings: just a sad reader,but fluff otherwise, i think?

WC: 570ish

A/N: today is my birthday (I turned 31!) But i've just been feeling so miserable and lonely and sick all day so i wrote this instead of wallowing in self pity.

Read on Ao3!

--

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city, but the light felt distant to you. Today was your birthday, a day that once brought you joy, but now it felt like a weight pressing down on your heart. You sat on your bed, surrounded by half-wrapped gifts and colorful decorations that seemed to mock your mood.

You stared at your phone, watching as friends sent their cheerful messages, but the words felt hollow. It was hard to celebrate when you felt so empty inside. You missed the laughter, the excitement, the feeling of being cherished. Instead, you found yourself wrapped in a heavy blanket of melancholy.

Just then, a soft knock echoed through your apartment. You didn’t move at first, unsure if you wanted company. But the door creaked open, and in walked Thor, his presence filling the room with warmth and light.

“Greetings, my friend!” he boomed, his bright smile instantly brightening the atmosphere. “I have come to celebrate with you on this most special day!”

You managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Thor. But I’m not really in the mood for a celebration.”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing with concern. “Nonsense! Every birthday deserves a celebration, even if it is just with one friend.” He stepped closer, his large frame towering over you as he knelt down to your level. “What troubles you?”

You sighed, looking away. “It’s just… I thought I’d feel different today. I thought I’d be happy, but I just feel… sad. Like I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Thor’s expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It is understandable to feel this way. Birthdays can be bittersweet reminders of time passing and changes in our lives.” He paused, searching for the right words. “But know this: you are not alone. You have friends who care for you deeply.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you shook your head. “I know, but it feels like everyone is moving on with their lives, and I’m just… stuck.”

Thor’s eyes sparkled with compassion. “Sometimes, we all feel lost, even among friends. But remember, it is okay to feel this way. It does not define who you are or diminish your worth. You are strong, and your journey is unique to you.”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his reassurance wrap around you like a comforting blanket. “I just wanted today to be special.”

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Then let us make it special together! We shall feast, and I will share tales of my adventures. We can laugh, and I shall remind you of the beauty in the world.”

A genuine smile began to break through your sadness. “You really think we can turn this around?”

“Absolutely!” He stood, extending a hand to you. “Come! We shall summon a feast worthy of the gods!”

You took his hand, feeling the strength of his spirit seep into you. As you stood up, the weight on your heart began to lift, and you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe today could be different after all.

As you walked out of your room, Thor led the way, his laughter echoing through the halls. In that moment, you realized that even on your saddest days, friendship could shine a light, reminding you that you were never truly alone

[societyfolklore]

The Golden Yule Hunt

Title: The Golden Yule Hunt Pairing: Loki x Asgardian Female Reader

Summary:   Asgard holds its annual Yule Hunt, a festive competition involving enchanted beasts and snowy landscapes. Loki and the reader team up to win- but Loki has eyes on another prize.

Word Count:  3.2k

Warnings:  Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, SMUT, Finger, Hunting Refs, Uprotected Sex (Don’t), Pet Names.. No Beta read..

A/N: Entry for @lokisgoodgirl  Winter Warmers collection

The great halls of Asgard glittered under the light of a thousand enchanted candles, casting golden reflections that danced across the walls. The annual Yule feast was in full swing-long tables laden with roasted meats, honeyed fruits, and overflowing goblets of mead and spiced wine. Laughter and music filled the air as Asgardians celebrated the season, their joy echoing off the palace’s gilded arches.

At the center of it all sat Odin, his lone eye scanning the room with measured authority. Thor laughed heartily beside him, a tankard of mead raised high as he regaled the table with one of his grand tales.

And then, there was him-Loki. The God of Mischief lounged lazily in his high-backed chair, emerald eyes sharp with amusement as he sipped from a goblet of wine. He seemed content to observe the revelry rather than partake, his black and green robes pooling elegantly at his feet.

You caught his gaze for only a second as you passed by, and even that brief look sent a chill down your spine. Loki’s smirk was faint but unmistakable, as if he were already scheming something-or perhaps he was just bored.

You took a steadying breath and turned your attention back to the feast. Tonight was not just a celebration; it was the eve of the Golden Hunt, an event as old as Yule itself.

The rules were simple: teams of two would be sent into Asgard’s enchanted forests to track and capture one of the legendary creatures blessed by the season. The winning team would earn a blessing said to bring prosperity, fortune, and love for the coming year. It was a test of wit, skill, and-if you were partnered with someone like Loki-a test of patience as well.

You had not expected your name to be paired with his.

“All hunters are to be chosen at random,” Odin’s booming voice declared, silencing the room. Scroll in hand, he called out the teams one by one, and your heartbeat faster with each name announced.

When Odin spoke your name, you stood quickly, your hands balling into nervous fists at your sides.

“And you shall hunt with…” Odin’s eye paused on Loki, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Loki, Prince of Asgard.”

The room fell eerily quiet for a moment before whispers began to ripple across the crowd like wildfire.

Loki, still lounging with an air of disinterest, raised a brow as if mildly inconvenienced. He looked at you, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Ah, what fortune. I’ve been given a charming partner.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And I’ve been saddled with the trickster.”

A few quiet snickers rose from the table. Loki stood with all the grace of a predator rising from its rest and approached you with long, unhurried strides. He towered over you slightly as he stopped, hands folded behind his back.

“Try to keep up, darling,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl only you could hear. “The forest is no place for the faint of heart.”

“Then you’ll have no problem keeping up with me,” you shot back, unwilling to let him get the last word.

Loki chuckled softly, his smile sharper than glass. “We shall see.”

The forest at night was alive with magic. Snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, undisturbed save for the faint shimmer of starlight that scattered across its surface. Massive trees loomed overhead, their branches heavy with snow and twisted with golden Yule wreaths that glowed faintly, enchanted to mark the hunting grounds.

You pulled your cloak tighter around your shoulders as the air grew colder. Beside you, Loki moved with quiet confidence, his dark silhouette blending into the shadows. His long coat swayed as he walked, the faint hum of his magic pulsing faintly around him, an invisible thread of energy that made the hairs on your skin prickle.

“Do you always walk like you own the place?” you muttered, your breath misting in the air.

Loki turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Darling, when one has earned their power, one doesn’t hide it.”

You rolled your eyes. “And yet, you’ve managed to lose every ounce of humility along the way.”

Loki smirked. “You’re lucky I find your insolence amusing.”

Before you could retort, a faint noise cut through the stillness-something soft, like the crunch of snow beneath hooves. You froze, and Loki’s gaze snapped forward, the teasing nature gone in an instant.

The two of you crept closer, weaving between snow-covered trees, your footfalls light against the forest floor. Emerging into a small clearing, you saw it: the Golden Hart

The Stag stood tall and regal, its fur shimmering like spun gold, its antlers glistening with frost. Its eyes glowed faintly, as though it were watching and waiting. The prize of the Hunt.

“I’ll go left, you go right,” Loki murmured, his voice low and sharp.

You nodded, circling around as Loki mirrored your movements. The creature watched you both but didn’t run, its head tilting as though considering its opponents.

Closer now.

Your pulse quickened as you reached out, ready to act.

Suddenly, the Hart turned and bolted, its golden glow vanishing into the darkness.

“Blast it!” Loki hissed, his illusion magic crackling in his palms as he spun to follow it. “Come on!”

Without hesitation, you tore after him. The chase was wild and chaotic-the Hart’s glow darting between trees like a living star as the two of you gave chase. Loki’s magic flashed ahead of you, forming illusions to corral the beast, but it was too clever, slipping past his tricks each time.

You sprinted faster, adrenaline roaring in your veins. Snow flew up around you, catching in your hair as you dove over a fallen log. Ahead, Loki leapt, his coat whipping around him as he skidded to a stop-too late.

You crashed into him, the force sending you both tumbling into a snowdrift.

You groaned as you pushed yourself upright, only to realize that you were pinned beneath Loki, his weight holding you in place. Snow clung to his dark hair, the faint moonlight catching the edges of his face.

Loki blinked, as though startled by the proximity, his green eyes locking with yours. His breath misted faintly in the space between you, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before snapping back to your eyes.

“Comfortable?” you asked, your voice dry despite the fluttering in your chest.

Loki’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Immensely.”

You shoved at his chest, your gloved hands sinking into the fur-lined coat. He relented with a low chuckle, rolling off of you and into the snow.

“Are we done falling all over each other now?” you muttered, brushing snow from your cloak.

“Perhaps,” Loki replied lazily, propping himself up on one elbow. “Though I must admit, I’m starting to enjoy it.”

Loki’s words hung in the air, laced with teasing, but there was a darker glint in his eyes, one that made heat pool in your stomach despite the biting cold. You shot him a glare, determined not to let him get under your skin, but he only smirked wider, his gaze drifting over you in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Perhaps we should get back to the hunt,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended, as you pushed to your feet and began brushing snow from your cloak.

But Loki remained where he was, lounging in the snow like a satisfied cat. “Why rush?” he drawled, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “The Golden Stag isn’t going anywhere. And besides...” His eyes met yours, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “I find myself rather taken with... other prizes.”

You froze mid-motion, his meaning sinking in as he rose fluidly to his feet, brushing snow from his coat. Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you in the dim light.

“Other prizes?” you echoed, your voice wavering slightly as your pulse quickened.

Loki tilted his head, studying you with that predatory intensity that always left you unsteady. “The kind worth savouring,” he murmured, his gloved hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your cheek. His touch was featherlight, yet it sent a shiver down your spine, and not from the cold.

“Loki, we’re wasting time-”

“On the contrary,” he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped closer, backing you against the rough bark of a frost-covered tree. “I think this is the most productive use of our time.”

Your retort died on your lips as his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. His thumb brushed your cheek, his eyes searching yours for the barest hesitation. When he found none, his lips descended on yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

The kiss was searing, a stark contrast to the cold air biting at your skin. His hand slid from your jaw to your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue swept over your bottom lip, demanding entry. You granted it without hesitation, your gloved hands gripping the fur of his coat as the kiss deepened.

“Loki,” you gasped against his lips when he finally pulled back, his breath warm against your skin. But whatever protest you’d been about to voice dissolved into a shuddering moan as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your pulse.

“You’re far more captivating than any golden stag,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as his hands roamed over your body, tugging at the clasps of your cloak and letting it fall to the ground.

His lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear, drawing a soft cry from you as his hands slid over your curves, deftly finding the fastenings of your armour. His touch was deliberate, almost reverent, as though unwrapping the most precious of treasures.

“You’re insufferable,” you managed to say, your voice breathy as his hands found bare skin, the chill of the air soon forgotten under the heat of his touch.

“And yet,” Loki replied, his lips curving against your collarbone, “you’re not stopping me are you?”

Your only response was a gasp as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazing the edge of your tunic before he pulled it free, leaving you exposed to the icy night air. But the cold was forgotten the moment his hands found your skin, his long fingers skimming over your waist and hips before gripping you possessively.

The world around you seemed to blur as Loki lowered you onto the snowy ground, the chill seeping through your layers countered by the heat of his body. His coat fanned out beneath you as his lips reclaimed yours, his hands continuing their exploration with a hunger that left you trembling.

“You’re mine tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with possession as his knee nudged your legs apart. “The stag can wait.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your words dissolved into a moan as his hand slipped between your thighs, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you his long fingers sliding along the wet flesh between your legs.

“Loki...” you whispered, your voice raw with need as your fingers tangled in his raven hair, holding him to you. “Please.”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as his lips captured yours once more, his fingers teasing and tormenting until you were arching against him, every nerve alight with sensation. “Your far easier game then the stag my darling..”

You felt his fingers brush against your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before sliding inside. The invasion was slow, deliberate, and utterly devastating. “uh-ah..”  Your body arched against him, your hips tilting upwards as his fingers slid deeper, filling you with a sense of fullness and completion, walls fluttering and gipping his fingers.

“Oh yes, a far better prize” 

His breath hot against your skin as he felt your response. His fingers began to move, stroking and caressing the slick inner walls, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You felt your muscles clenching around him, trying to hold him inside, but he was relentless, his touch expert and unyielding. “One I’m going to enjoy claiming.”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing gentle circles around the sensitive nub as his fingers continued their slow, sensual assault. You felt your body begin to build, the tension coiling inside you like a spring, waiting to be released.

"Loki- oh Gods," you whispered, your voice barely audible as his fingers worked their magic. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as your body trembled and shook.

His response was a low, husky whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

"Come for me my little doe," he murmured, his fingers stroking and teasing, pushing you closer to the edge. "Let go, my love. Let me feel you come apart."

As he spoke, his fingers quickened, his touch growing more insistent, more demanding. You felt your body respond, the tension building to a crescendo as his fingers drove you closer and closer to the edge. And then, in a burst of sensation, you were over, your body shattering into a thousand pieces as you came, Loki's fingers still deep inside you, his lips still locked on yours, his eyes blazing with triumph and desire. “Mmm, perfect.” You were still coming back to yourself when your barely made out the noise of Loki undoing his own hunting tunics, and you felt him back pressed upon you again, him taking his place back between your legs.

“Look at me Doe.” His eyes locked on yours as he filled you completely, it was slow and deliberate. The stretch of him was exquisite, a perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you gasping his name. His movements were unhurried at first, savouring the way you clenched around him, but the need burning between you soon took over. “You feel better than I even imaged,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with reverence and possession. “Thought of nothing but this since I saw you in the hall.” As Loki's eyes locked onto yours, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His gaze was intense, burning with a fierce desire that seemed to sear your very soul. You felt his hips press against yours, his cock filling you to the brim, and you couldn't help but gasp at the sensation your breath letting out little puffs of steam into the fridged air. “Do you feel that, little Doe?” Loki’s voice was a low, velvety rasp, each word laced with dark satisfaction. “How perfectly you fit me? Like you were crafted for this-for me.”

The stretch of him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. It was as if he was claiming you, marking you as his own, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought. His movements were slow at first, deliberate and sensual, as if he was savouring the feel of you around him. “Loki…” you gasped, your voice trembling with need, “I-”

The snow crunched around you both as his weight held you under him,  his pace quickened, his hips thrusting against yours with a growing urgency. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you, the friction building to a fever pitch as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and all-consuming, his tongue probing the depths of your mouth as his hips pounded against yours. “I need you,” you gasped, your body arching into his as a wave of pleasure rippled through you. “I need all of you.”

His lips curved into a wicked grin against your skin. “You already have me,” he murmured, his pace growing rougher, each thrust sending sparks of heat cascading through your body. “Every piece of me is yours. And you…” He paused, his hand tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to lift your gaze to meet his. “You’re mine.”

You felt his hands on your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you, his fingers digging deep into your skin. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect combination of pain and pleasure that left you gasping for breath. “Let the whole forest know who owns you.”

As he fucked you, his movements grew more intense, more primal. You felt his cock slamming into you, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing through the forest like a primal drumbeat. The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a sea of sensation and desire.

“Yes,” you choked out, the intensity in his emerald eyes making your breath hitch. “I’m yours, Loki.” Loki’s rhythm grew rougher, more frantic, as though trying to imprint himself on every part of you. His name spilled from your lips in a chant, your nails digging into his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge. The sounds of your shared pleasure mingled with the crackle of distant frost, the only witnesses to your union the silent trees and the distant stars.

You cried out as his movements became even more urgent, the friction between your bodies building to an unbearable crescendo. “Loki, I-oh gods-”

When release finally overtook you, it was blinding, a wave of pleasure that left you trembling beneath him. Loki followed soon after, his hips snapping against yours as he spilled into you, his head falling to the crook of your neck with a low, satisfied groan. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice both tender and unyielding as his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss. “Now, little Doe. Be mine.”

The words pushed you over the edge, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy surged through you. “Uah!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the stillness of the forest.

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your skin as his own release followed, his body tensing above you as he spilled into you with a shuddering breath. For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound your laboured breaths mingling in the icy air. Leaving puffs of steam in the air around you. Then Loki raised his head, a wicked smile curving his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your flushed face. Your breaths slowed, your fingers still tangled in his hair, you met his gaze, the raw intensity in his eyes making your heart race all over again

“I believe I’ve found my prize,” he said, his voice low and rich with satisfaction.

You laughed softly, your chest still heaving. “I hope it was worth it.”

“Oh, it was,” Loki replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned down to kiss you once more, the warmth of his lips chasing away the cold of the night. “Always next year.”

[anika-ann]

Ochranuj me (Protect Me) - S.R.

Part 1/2

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; a part of this pseudomedieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,6k

Summary:  Your practice of magic is punishable by death. Your love is forbidden by law; and yet it has been blessed, more than he knows.

When the crown prince is poisoned, Knight Steven Rogers is faced with a choice: will he risk a war or the love of his life?

And what of you? If asked… shall you risk it all? For the lands where you live… for your knight?

Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, blood, mentions of death, polytheism, mentions of pregnancy (reader/OFC), Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Ochraňuj mě (Protect Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a ň in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; fits after the events of the previous instalments

A/N 2: This is one less smut and more plot, forgive me 🤭 I hope you'll enjoy anyway. Yes, the Merlin inspo is real here. Inspo also from Bílá laň by Vesna. For music, check it out here, for visuals here.

Chodila, chodila za tebou bílá laň lásky se napila navzdory všem přísahám. Prosila pány lesa ať ji pustí za tebou zažít si, jaké to je jít za srdce ozvěnou.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Jako bílá laň svoji duši chraň, ať záři neztratíš.

Tady je tvůj háj, tady je tvůj ráj, jinam nepatříš. Tak ať nepotká tě kříž. (kříž, kříž, kříž) - Bílá laň by Vesna

Boisterous laugh. Wine poured in gallons painting cheeks nearly just as ruddy as the warmth of the torches illuminating the high halls of the Starkerbürg castle painted the walls. Rich aroma of butter, oils, meats and spices flowing in the air, clinking of the most precious silverware and a distant sound of flutes as the musicians tasked to raise the already high spirits could be barely heard over the noise of the feast.

Under the watchful eye of the gods or the only God it was now believed there was, a celebration of peace was raving, everything but peaceful and serene; loud and overwhelming instead, a whirlwind of emerald green threaded with gold welcomed by the steady colours of rich crimson and gold. An anniversary of the peace made between the kingdom of Asgard and Starkerbürg, a party led by Thor Odinson, the king of the lands, honouring the deal his late father King Odin had made right before his passing.

The high table with King Howard sitting at the centre, his son Anthony, the crown prince, by his right, along with the woman he was courting, Pepper of the Potts; on her right, King Howard’s daughter, Princess Morgana. On the king’s left, the guests of honour; King Thor, his wife Queen Jane, and his brother Prince Loki. Knights and warriors of the highest ranks, lords and ladies of nobility joining the celebrations, servants all but running around the hall to tend to everyone’s needs.

Then, a sound of a chalice hitting the stone floor, one that would have been met with more laughter, had it not fallen from Prince Anthony’s hand, suddenly scarily pale and trembling. Cold to touch too, a terrifying contrast to his burning forehead glistening with sweat. Body sliding down the chair, barely even faint frantic motions to his chest.

Brief, deafening silence.

The traitorous calm before a storm would hit and leave nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

Chaos.

Swords drawn.

A wave of threats of violence.

A thundering voice of the King of Starkerbürg himself.

Calls for the royal physician Banner.

Images of peace and joy shattered; a single inconspicuous calm face among the sea of others in the face of a tragedy in making.

“Poison. I cannot determine what kind as of yet. Carry His Royal Majesty to his chambers!” the physician called out, not bothered by the fact he was ordering around knights and other nobility. “At once! There is no time to spare!”

Knights practically tripping over each other to tend to their prince, to their future ruler, to their brother in arms even as by rank he stood high above them. Rustle and grunts; a whisper of skirts as the culprit slipped away in the midst of disarray and cries of fear for the prince and the future of both kingdoms alike.

To think that an attack at the crown happening during the presence of a party of another kingdom – one similarly strong – was but a coincidence, would have been foolishly naïve.

Oh there were no such coincidences; this was but the first step towards a war.

And the perpetrator would be treated with that in mind.

“Aconite, most likely,” sounded the verdict, the words solemn on the physician’s lips as he fearfully raised his gaze to the King hovering over his shoulder as he inspected the second most important patient of the kingdom at the royal chambers.

The dark note in Banner’s voice snapped Steven from the haze as he, Sir Barnes, Sir Barton and Sir Wilson stood along the walls of Anthony’s chambers, tall and menacing, but just as helpless as Prince Anthony’s betrothed seated in the corner.

Whatever poison the physician was talking about, it was not known to Steven; but the message written in Banner’s expression was clear as day and terrifying like a night to be spent in the woods with rumoured presence of ghouls.

Inevitable death.

It was true that King Howard Stark might have yet to comprehend, despite his long years of ruling his lands, that one might catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, gain more by threading his actions with kindness than by spitting threats of violence; but he was no fool. He perceived the solemnity of the announcement and received it with a shadow over his already distorted features.

“This… aconite, Banner. What kind of a poison is that?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, but not bending. Not under the weight on the crown on his head, nor under the weight of the tidings he might be scared to receive. His face was but a mask of stern indifference; a silent warning to Banner to choose his next words carefully.

As if stating the patient’s condition was a choice, Steven thought darkly, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage as he exchanged glances with his best friend standing by his side. When he looked back at the physician, he could see him swallow dryly even from the several feet distance. Yet, the brave man faced the King with his head held high and his expression filled with sorrow.

“A deadly kind, Your Royal Majesty,” Banner said slowly. Rage flashed on the King’s face, Steven’s stomach dropping at both the sight and the worst tidings brought. Death. “It is made from the nectar-filled blossoms or the tubers of the Aconitum lycoctonum flower. There is… no cure known to man.”

A sniffle sounded in the corner of the room, completely ignored except for Sir Barton’s compassionate glance towards the woman who was on the brink of despair at the mere thought of the man she had clearly already learned to love leaving this world forever.

The King beckoned to the guards standing by the door, making them instantly step forward with their spears ready, heading for Banner menacingly.

Steven’s feet twitched as he wanted to step forward to protect the physician, outrage rising at the injustice even as fear twisted his stomach.

Sir Barnes brushed his hand discreetly to stop him.

Steven gritted his teeth, but stayed put for now, watching the scene unfold with disdain.

Sir Barnes was correct in one thing: Anthony being poisoned and having his life hanging on a thread was horrible enough, and rash decisions and actions such as standing up to the King would only make it worse.

A raging man was an unwise man; and the King was only a man too, even as he compared himself to various deities and had nearly as much power as them – which only rendered him more dangerous. There was no point in scaring the physician to death or even hurting him, but such was the King’s power. Such was his God-given right to punish whoever as he pleased. It mattered little that Banner could barely be blamed for-

-for the crown prince’s impending death, apparently.

“Then I advise you, Banner, to find one fast,” King Howard sneered as the guards stood behind the physician now. “Otherwise, you shall meet the same fate as whoever of Asgard dared to try and rob me of my son.”

The guards grabbed the man’s shoulders and Steven’s hand instinctively went for his sword again; and he was not the only one. Still, the knights stood, hesitant to disobey their King even in the face of the glaring injustice, fighting an inner battle between honour and goodness of heart and the oath they had taken. Their loyalty was to the kingdom and the King represented it most of all, after all; even if he seemed to threaten it the most of all, too, at the moment.

Well, not on Steven’s watch.

“Wait!” he called out as he stepped forward, earning a hard glare from the King himself that should have told him to keep quiet and fall in line, but he could not. Not even for Bucky’s audible sigh behind him. Not when-

“Is there anything we can do for him as of now, is what we are trying to ask,” Sir Wilson spoke up before Steven could, moving to stand next to him.

Steven took a deep breath as his gaze flickered to his comrade, finding his face arranged in a carefully crafted humbleness – as it should be in the face of the ruler even when he was addressing the physician.

Banner’s words were kind, his voice firm and regretful.

“I am afraid there isn’t, good Sir.”

“The Royal Guard and all the knights have a clear mission given by the crown, Sir Wilson,” the King barked as he gestured for the physician to be dragged away, the poor man allowing it without a protest. King Howard’s gaze fell on his son’s pale face as he lied on the bed with nothing but soundless whimpers on his lips, before he snapped back to the four knights present. “Arrest all servants and nobility of Asgard. I shall have the King and his brother for myself. And should my son meet his forefathers, I shall have their heads on a spike by tomorrow.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and stepped out, his leave abruptly followed by Anthony’s wife-to-be rushing to her betrothed’s side, cheeks damp with tears.

Steven regarded the scene unfolding, frozen with horror and unease greater than anyone.

He feared the death of his friend, naturally, as they had just dragged the one single person with any chance of curing Anthony in the whole kingdom away from his bedside.

But Steven feared a lot more deaths too. Should Prince Anthony die, King Howard would unleash pure hell on Asgard and as a consequence, on all Starkerbürg as well.

All the knights knew that; everyone knew that. They all had a heavy feeling in their stomach at the mere thought, their feet slow and unwilling as they left the chambers one by one. Yet, Steven’s heart was heavier.

The thought had occurred to him when he had wondered what exactly the King was expecting from Banner.

To turn back time so the prince had never got poisoned?

To pray to the gods for a miracle?

To perform a miracle himself and cure what was considered uncurable?

The last idea had squeezed his heart in an icy fist, nausea clawing up his throat.

He knew someone who could achieve things as close to a miracle as possible in this realm. He had felt such miracle in his own blood, tissue and cells; he had felt the wonders strong magic was capable of when in the hands of the kind-hearted. He was still breathing solely because of it; and he knew the person who could achieve this closely, intimately even, mind, body and soul, the depth of the goodness of her heart.

Perhaps you would be able to replicate the feat of saving Steven from certain death.

Perhaps your magic was powerful enough to save thousands lives by saving one. Powerful enough to prevent a war.

But hope and miracles were not to be trifled with. Magic was not to be trifled with. Being seen practising magic meant a definite death sentence.

But would it? If it saved the future king’s life?

Surely, he couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t risk your life. Of all the things he had seen in his life, of all the things he had ever had the fortune to hold, you were the most precious one to him. If he brought you here, he could lose you. He could lose you, by his own hand no less, and that would be the highest price to pay for peace he did not even know would settle or not in the end.

No.

That was the one price he couldn’t pay. He’d much rather pay with his own life – but not yours. Gods, never yours.

But if you only could… knew a potion, could do anything at all…

As he marched with his comrades to arrest the innocent – for it could not be the work of all Asgardians at once – his jaw was tense, the dilemma occupying all his thoughts, feeling like it might tear him in half.

Until it hadn’t.

If he did nothing, the war was be inevitable. If he did nothing, he would lose you anyway.

A raging man was a dangerous man and King Stark would burn the world in the wake of his anger and grief, heedless of whoever would burn with it.

Steven stopped dead in his tracks, Sir Barnes nearly colliding with him as a result.

“Steve, what the-“

“I must go,” Steven said in a hushed voice, swiftly changing direction; or attempting to. Sir Barnes’ hand was quick to grab onto his elbow, stopping him, heedless of other knights continuing their path.

“Steve, what in heavens do you mean by that?”

“I must fetch someone. I believe she could help.”

Sir Barnes bewilderment would perhaps be almost comical had it not been for the dread pooling cold in Steven’s gut.

“…she? What—the woman you have been sneaking off to see?” Sir Barnes enquired, causing a startled and utterly confused expression to appear on Steven’s face, a small alarmed sound pushing past the man’s lips despite his effort to remain composed.

Hold on, hold on-- Bucky knew?!

The look Steven received back was unimpressed at best – of course Bucky knew. He knew Steven almost better than he knew himself.

“Save the surprise for another day. How could she possibly help? Is she a physician’s assistant? Or even an apprentice for some insane reason?”

Had Steve had the capacity, he’d glare at Bucky for the offensive tone with which he had asked the question; however, he did not have it and in the brief moment he spent pondering, he realized that Bucky was not opposed to the idea itself. It was simply the ways of Starkerbürg: to try and take a woman as a physician’s apprentice was insane indeed. King had the God-given right to appoint physicians – and King Howard would certainly never approve of a female one.

But that didn’t matter, because that was not who you were.

“She’s… she is a healer.”

“A healer?” Sir Barnes echoed pointedly, doubt colouring his words. “What does than even mean? We do not have time for this.”

Steven huffed, trying to tug his arm free from Sir Barnes’ grasp as his impatience grew along with the number of doubts whether it was ever a good idea to consider your aid; but there were no options. No time to search for them. No time to waste and no time for finesse. He needed to go and he needed Bucky to understand – and more than that.

“She saved my life, Bucky. Back when I fell from the crags into the river… when you thought I was dead-“

“You must have been lucky, fell into deep water. You had superficial injuries. This is a poison. One the best physician of the court claims to have no antidote for.”

Steven swallowed thickly, the heaviest of feelings in his stomach as he chose to reveal his greatest secret as to make a point and be released to act before it’d be too late. “Bucky, I had much more than superficial injuries. She… she helped then. She might be able to help now, but… I will need your help with protecting her should it come to it.”

Bucky looked at Steve as if he had just grown a second head, glancing around nervously as guards and knights alike kept passing them, casting strange looks at them for their stillness. Sir Barnes lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper.

“Are you saying you were wounded much worse and yet she was able to tend to you? In such short time that you were missing then? And that she might be able to help here, now, with a poison that has no known cure?” Sir Barnes demanded hastily, bewildered and clearly irritated. “Are you hearing yourself, Steven? What kind of a healer would she have to be to-“

The almost sardonic voice suddenly fell silent, all blood draining from Sir Barnes’ face when the horrifying realization finally dawned to him. His hand fell limp, finally releasing Steven’s arm.

“Steve, this is not a subject for joking.”

Steven swallowed heavily, heart thundering in his chest, blood pounding in his temples. He shouldn’t have told – but he had to. He had to, right? Bucky needed to understand-

He sighed quietly, whole body strung tight in expectation of his friend exploding in rage – rage he had no time for.

“I am not joking. And you are right, we are losing precious time, I should-”

The sudden grip on Steven’s his shoulder, appearing as to stop him from leaving, was much more brutal than the hold on his elbow had been, fingers digging into flesh even over the layers of clothing.

“You— have you been… lying with a--”

Steven’s voice was quiet, but as sharp and dangerous as the sword resting in the sheath on his hip. “Choose your words carefully, Bucky. That is the woman I love and owe my life to. I would die for her, and I would not have been standing here had she not healed me.”

“That could be exactly what she wants you to think!” Sir Barnes sputtered. Steven fought the urge to roll his eyes – the absurdity of such statement was glaring.

“Oh for heavens-- I might be a fool sometimes, but I am not an idiot-”

“Debatable!” Sir Barnes whispered as madly as if he was in fact yelling. “As you’re proving it this very moment!”

Steven shook his head, the feeling in his gut growing more gnawing by the second, every frantic beat of his heart feeling like a waste of precious time.

“Bucky, you said it yourself – we do not have time for this! I must go. I will get her, but… please. Help me protect her if the King is blind to the fact she uses--- it to do good.”

Sir Barnes simply stared back, the halls empty by now as much as his gaze, however inquiring.

The grip on Sir Rogers’ arm loosened.

Silence stretched. Precious second ticked by, grains of sand in hourglass no one could turn back falling; and with each and every one, Steve’s stomach tightened further with creeping horror.

Surely his most precious, most loyal friend, having been standing by his side since childhood, would not abandon him now? Surely he would not betray him in moments that might be deciding his fate, the fate of his beloved, of the whole kingdom?

“Bucky, please. I swear-- I’m begging you. I need to-- I need to protect her. At any cost.”

“What of your sword?” Sir Barnes asked dully, appearing indifferent to Steven’s desperate pleas.

What of your knighthood? Are you willing to give up that, if you are forced to leave in the darkness of the night and never return to bring your beloved to safety? Are you willing to leave the path of the honorary knight to become a lawless fugitive?

The smile which found its way to the corners of Steve’s lips was soft; sad and torn, for it was the greatest honour to serve, to protect, to help. He had been and always would be grateful for the rare chance he had got.

But there was no greater blessing of the gods themselves than you having entered his life and taking it by the most beautiful of storms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything and anyone in this world and that was what he would not even dream of giving up.

He didn’t respond with words; and yet, the exasperation on his closest friend’s face told him he did not have to. Sir Barnes understood from Steven’s expression alone. He always had.

“Gods, Steven Grant of Rogers, of all stunts you could have pulled to get yourself hanged, you truly had to go and chose the most foolish one. My God- Steven…”

Most foolish one? Echoed in Steven’s head, the words absurd. No. The most gorgeous one, the purest one, the most blessed, he allowed himself to muse. The most honourable one too, no? Love. Where was justice, if love, the purest emotions of all, was considered a crime? Did the new religious teachings not speak of love being kind, patient, knowing no dishonour and wrongs?

That was how he loved you. Wholly and entirely, kindly, patiently, even if passionately.

It was only then when Steven snapped from his haze and finally noticed a trace of hurt on Sir Barnes’ face when it occurred to him why Bucky had taken so long to respond. He was cross with Steven; but not as much for the alleged crime, but for having kept it a secret. Keeping you a secret; the one closest to his heart, his beloved, hidden from the one person he had always trusted with anything.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. No one could know. She’s-- she is too precious. I had to protect her,” he explained softly, urgently. “And I still do. I will, with your help or without it. But… please.”

Sir Barnes continued to regard him, stunned into silence still, expression unreadable.

Then, he shook his head; what might seem as disagreement however, Steve recognized as resignation. He had known Bucky for too long to not be able to decipher which shake of a head was a no and which was an expression of indignation and regret at his own choice of a best friend.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

And with those words, Steve took his hasty leave, his minute relief drowned in the sea of worry when he sneaked into the stables to rush through the gates of the castle, claiming to be running a King’s errand.

Seeking his closeness the pretty white doe having sipped at love all despite her oath, she begged the forest spirits to let her go to follow her heart and its eternal song.

Light breeze caressing your hair like the tender fingers of your lover, brushing away a lose strand from your face. Gentle September sunrays of a late afternoon warming your cheeks, long leaves of grass tickling your ankles and your hands as you gathered brownwort, thyme and lady’s mantle, the smell almost too much despite its pleasant notes. Your hand instinctively laying over your belly as the reminder of why you were gathering these particular herbs blossomed in your mind anew, a smile settling on your face. It was not just the time of year blessing people with abundance of these flowers, a nature’s reminder the time was coming to bath in the blessed lake on the Autumn equinox; it was the sweet secret humming under your heart too, growing stronger and more beautiful by day – and slightly bittersweet for for now, it was only yours to keep, your beloved knight none the wiser.

Steven.

The very reason, you suspected, for the heavy feeling in your heart; the reason why none of the kind offerings of mother nature seemed to sooth a jittery feeling you had woken with up from your restless sleep. Unease had been crawling over your skin; a solemnity’s shadows, despite the beautiful weather and the joyful morning realisation that a barely noticeable bump was now showing on your body, a testament to the blessings of love.

The sky was beginning to colour with sunset with no clouds in sight; and yet, you could feel a storm coming, one you did not feel would be of the refreshing purifying kind. The air did not smell of rain; if you breathed in deeply, it reeked of the very death the wind seemed to whisper about in the tallest of birch trees. A warning; a witch’s intuition tuned to the finest hints of the gods of nature and forest spirits. You had tried to sooth yourself, coaxing yourself into peace by wondering if it perhaps was but a new future mother’s anxiety.

Yet, an instinct as old as time whispered to you to know better.

Which was why the wild stomping of hooves nearing your cabin should have not taken you by surprise. But it did.

You rose from your crouch so fast your head span, gathered flowers falling from your hands at the brief faint sensation; you steadied yourself just as Steven’s horse came into view, slowing into a walk as not to startle you or crush all the blossoms on the meadow.

The silent thank you to the gods for seeing your love alive and well left your lips without prompting, followed by your spine tingling with a shudder of power at its base.

Almost as if the gods blessed you for your genuine gratitude and gifted you with strength. Strength you shall no doubt need, for Steven might be living and breathing, dismounting his mare in a thousand-times practised manner, breathtaking as ever, but the distress on his face and the tension of his wide shoulders told you those shoulders carried the weight of the world at the moment.

Feet waking with motion, you met him halfway as he rushed to you, his arms quick to embrace you lovingly but so tight all air left your ribcage for long moments. Steven’s heart thundered against your ear as you hid your face against his chest. Fresh air had washed his clothes of most smells, but sweat and wine and rich spices still enveloped your senses, a tell-tale signs of the feast which he had told you about being interrupted by something vicious.

Yet, you took precious moments of simply breathing your lover in, basking in the comfort his arms offered no matter the circumstance.

He nuzzled his face in your hair, his chest expanding with a generous inhale, a steadying breath which made his heart race faster, as if attempting to outrun the very storm you had felt arriving.

You ran your hands down his broad back, feeling your own heart leaping into your throat as the silence between you, often so sweet and comforting, stretched ominously.

“Steven… love,” you whispered, attempting to shift in his embrace, only achieving his hold growing firmer, his muscles almost shaking with effort not to let go.

Oh Steven… What a terrible feat had been laid upon him?

“What has happened?”

Finally releasing your body, his hands were quick to cradle your face instead, achingly gentle, even as his eyes roamed your face wordlessly, brimming with so much emotion it stirred your unease further.

“Rytier moj?”

Steven’s face softened minutely, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as tenderly as butterfly wings despite the power – or the lack of it – in his grip.

“My love…”

Lips curling in a tiny smile, you mirrored Steven’s affection, reaching to settle your palm against his cheek, fingers of your other hand carding through his hair; your heart fluttered when he leaned into your touch, a wavering breath escaping his lips before they pressed against your palm to sooth the scratch of his beard against your skin.

Despite the dulcet image he made, eyes fluttering close for a blissful moment of nothing but love shared, you felt his body pulse with anxious urgency seemingly seeping into yours through your fingertips.

“I did not sleep well…” you confessed, his already pursed lips turning down. “I had a heavy feeling in me. Now I know the gods had not warned me simply for their own whims. What’s happened?”

Steven opened his eyes again; with a single caress of the breeze, he straightened, his aura of a knight – a fierce protector, a loyal friend, a humble determined servant – returning with its full force as did his worry.

“I need your help.”

A simple plea.

A simple answer.

“Always, rytier moj. Anything,” you promised.

One would expect relief to fill your lover’s features; instead, dread twisted them into a frown of dismay. Almost as if he had been hoping for your rejection.

Why?

The whisper of death among the trees grew louder, haunting, sending such a shudder through your body not even your lover’s warmth could hope to protect you from it, another urgent question scratching at the back of your mind.

Death, the trees seemed to whisper.

Whose death?

“Oh bosorka moja…”

Not Steven’s. Never. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

And not your child’s. You’d claw a throat open with your bare hands had anyone tried to take them away. Take her away. You had dreamed two nights prior, dreamed of a girl with Steven’s beautiful eyes and your hair caressed by the wind, her laughter filling the air as he sat her on his shoulders and she placed the daisy crown on his head-

The image had been so full of hope, so bright, so full of promise; it battled the current scent of death fiercely, one blending into another, and it felt like you were stood in the middle.

Your choice. Your power.

Your victory; or your loss.

You gulped, your gentle hold on Steven’s face growing shaky; with fear or the weight of responsibility, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, love? You are worrying me… come in. Tell me what weights down your-“

“Prince Anthony has been poisoned,” he said at last.

The whisper of the wind seemed to turn into a screech of a gale, even as the tree leaves and grass barely rustled.

The Prince… was he the one whose death you felt impending? It must have been.

In a split second, it became so clear why Steven was so shaken.

An impending death of his brother in arms. Of someone whom he served and appreciated.

Of the future ruler; quite possibly caused by the attempts of the party of Asgard.

An act of war.

Should Prince Anthony die, there would be no stopping at one death. Devastating number of lives could be lost. Including Steven’s.

No. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

But could you stop it?

Stood in the middle. Your choice. Your power.

Could you prevent a war?

Your mind was set into a whirl, various herbs and remedies for different poisonings refreshed in your mind.

“Do you know which poison it was?” you asked urgently, dropping your hands; and confused as why Steven’s remained firmly on your face, his expression speaking of pain greater than before. “Steven, love. What are his troubles? I can send a potion, pass it as a remedy from a physician-”

“Burning feeling in his forehead, weakness of muscles, trembling, cold sweat… he fainted and could not be woken up, only for a brief moment. He had trouble speaking, began to shake, fainted again...” Steven listed slowly, his unease growing with every word.

And so did yours.

Determination bled out from your body drop by drop, replaced by dread, the very weakness your lover was talking about as if settling in your own muscles and bones.

“The physician believes it might have been... aconite?” he added.

You had figured as much, seemingly endless moments before Steven spoke the dreaded word.

Aconite.

The worst nightmare of all living things; the deadliest daydream of those who meant harm and would not stop until their enemy released their last breath.

Death, screeched the breeze in the crowns of the birch trees; the yew trees, the very symbol of passing, joining in.

Death. War. Death.

Your power. Your victory. Your loss.

Your voice shook more frantically than young aspen leaves in the wind.

“Steven… aconite is deadly. I have no potion or salve for this. There is no cure-”

“That is what physician Banner said.”

“But then what…”

Your voice trailed off, words stuck in your throat, air stolen from your chest. A lighting from clear skies could struck you at the very moment and you would barely take notice of such.

It all made sense now. You having lost sleep. The whispers of death. The assumed shiver of power you shall no doubt need. And at last, Steven’s almost palpable dismay when you had said you’d help. That you’d do anything.

He had hoped you’d help.

He was terrified of it all the same.

You could feel blood draining from your face, rushing past your ears; unspeakable horror and determination swept you like the non-existent gale in the tree crowns.

“Steven…”

His grip on your face grew firmer, unsteady but urgent, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes slid shut, his whisper a frantic promise, a confession and a prayer at once.

“I know. Believe me, my love, I know, and I have never been more scared of anything in my whole life,” he said huskily, barely audible over the wild thundering of your heart, the shaky sound of your quick breaths, even as the rest of the world faded into background, all noise ceasing. Or perhaps even the sparrows forgot how to sing, struck by fear for their life.“I would have not asked this of you if I did not fear that Anthony’s death would unleash a war with Asgard and might destroy us all… and if I did not believe I could protect you.”

“Steven-“

A thumb over your lip, gently pressing to silence your protest, Steven guided you to look up to his eyes, every word falling from his lips an oath signed by his own blood.

“Bosorka moja… I shall protect you, no matter the cost. You must know I would lay my life for you. I will, should it come to it. As long as you are safe.”

Consumed by adoration and terror at once, you slipped from Steven’s hold, shaking your head.

He had not the slightest idea what he was speaking of, the reckless fool.

He had no idea.

And he had no idea whom he would be leaving should he deliver on his terrible promise.

“These words are not nearly as comforting as you believe them to be! How would we-- how would I live without you?” you lamented, feeling the fire of power and indignation burn inside of you, chasing the fear away for several beats of your heart. “And I-- I am not even sure I can heal him.”

“You healed me,” Steven offered kindly, encouraging, confusion and the softest trace of hurt at you having escaped his touch twisting his face. He had no idea. He had no idea at all. “You said I was at the brink of death myself-“

“You were,” you spat, not appreciating the reminder – not of his injuries, nor of your past recklessness, as grateful as you were for the latter, not a single regret in your mind for having risked it all to save the handsome stranger with goodness etched into his very soul, having shone so bright it had outshined your doubts and fear for your life. But this was different. So much circumstance had changed. “But I was… I had faith in your soul, saw your good heart. I believed to be safe from you should I be too weak to protect myself after I casted my spells, and for that, I was able to pour all my magic into the healing. And I-- I was much more careless with my power then… “

You made a pause, inhaling slowly, gathering courage in the face of Steven’s features twisting further with distress.

“But Steven… that was before. I-- before we-“

“What is it, bosorka moja? Before what?”

Your lower lip trembled, regret lacing the soft touch of your fingertips to his face.

This was not how you wished for him to find out. You had told him before, erased his memory to ease his conscience and to prepare for the right moment, a moment fit for such joyful tidings; but much like him, having rushed here asking for help despite the unspeakable risks, you had no other option.

You had no choice.

You had no time.

The deep-sea blue with a forest green shade of his irises brimmed with emotion, tenderness and silent question.

With a lump in your throat, you dropped your hands again, curling them around your middle as if to protect the secret and save it for a reverent moment your love and lover – and your child – would have deserved.

Steven regarded your stance with dread visibly climbing up his throat. You could see it in his eyes, the sudden uncertainty, the questions written in his eyes growing frantic and painful.

Why had you stepped back from him? Why had you evaded his touch? Why did you seem taken by sorrow? What secret had you been keeping from him? For you must have had some. You must have not told him something crucial – and in a dark time like this, it shall come to light.

You appeared so shaken; you appeared scared. Of something he had failed to protect you from?

Or of his reaction to the revelation?

You chose your words carefully, speaking them slowly, even though you could feel him hanging onto every syllable.

“It is not only me anymore who needs to be protected.”

Steven did not understand; that much was clear from his expression, from the step he took closer to you only for you to take a step back, etching his hurt deeper into his face.

“I… I do not understand, my love. Do you have—do you know of someone who could help you? Do they need protection too?”

The they tasted of poison much bitterer than aconite; disbelief and profound pain.

You could almost hear it, the absurd questions he seemed to be asking himself. Was there… was there someone else? Someone else who had earned your love more fiercely than he had? More deserving?

The way your love remained hidden, the distance he still had to keep, laid heavy in his mind, always, now feeding his doubt; his fear that someone else now occupied the space he had so selfishly taken up in your heart.

But had only been here mere days ago, yes? Surely you could have not--- you would have not… or had you? No. That wasn’t possible. You were the kindest most loving person he had ever met, loyal to a fault – and he was blessed to be yours, to be loved, unconditionally, more than he deserved for keeping you his little secret.

You could not read thoughts; but Steven’s always seemed to be laid bare in front of you to card through. Betrayal and resignation all at once, jaw tight to mask his hurt, to hide the very doubt you read so clearly. Doubt, but not of you; of him. He had always carried it with him, the guilt of not providing for you as he imagined he should for his beloved.

Doubt, crystal clear in his gaze. It was possible, was it not? The most wonderful woman he had ever met, finally fed up, the goblet of your patience finally having overflowed, deciding to find a man worthy of you, able to take care of you, truly, one you were willing to-

You could not bear his mind screaming anymore, even as you had not heard a single word, a single thought, all of it but achy questions expressed by his gaze alone.

“No, Steven, I do not--- I merely cannot only think of myself now,” you said softly, searching for words to reveal the secret at last, not, not wanting to and craving it all the same. “I… I need to protect us.”

His shoulders sagged, doubt and heartache erased at once, tenderness at your worry for him melting into his smile.

“Do not fret, bosorka moja. I can hold my own.”

The faint smile in the corner of your mouth hurt, tears burning in your eyes.

“I know, rytier moj… and yes, I meant us, but I--- I also meant us.”

The arm you had curled around your middle shifted. Your palm spread pointedly over your belly as you met his gaze with hesitance and silent hope; for as much as you dreaded revealing the source of your worst fear, the tidings were still joyful. And you hoped with the entirety of your heart that Steven would accept them as such, much like the first time.

But first, he had to comprehend them.

Several rushed beats of your heart it took him; but then he finally did.

Suddenly, it was his turn to stand still and rigid as if a lightning from the perfectly clear skies struck him. And it might have as well.

His voice was barely louder than a breath, hoarse, laced with careful hope despite the glaring truth.

“You—we- are we-?”

A crystal-clear memory of those being the very words he had spoken the first time entered your mind, a single tear spilling over; the awe and reverence on his face mirrored his expression all the same as you confirmed.

“Yes.”

“You are with a child? My child?”

It would have been amusing, the questions, if you hadn’t been on a brink of hysteria and hadn’t there been a metaphorical sword hanging above your heads while you indulged in revealing the sweetest secret there was between lovers.

“Yes.”

Countless grains of sand in hourglass fell, Steven simply observing you, his gaze feasting on the entirety of you with newfound emotion that touched your very soul and made it shiver with delight. He observed you with such adoration and devotion you could only imagine he would show to a deity descending to walk the Earth.

And then he was surging forward, falling on his knees in front you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapping around your lower back to keep you close as he laid his forehead on your belly, shaky, slow and careful; nothing short of reverent. Despite the circumstance, all the tears prickling in your eyes found their release – every inch of your body sang, feeling Steven’s love for both you and the life he had a generous hand in creating.

“Oh bosorka moja… láska moja,” he muttered into the fabric before he looked up, hesitant fingers slipping under, to feel the very bump you had only noticed today. His lips parted in mute awe, eyes turning glassy with sheer delight and wonder at the miracle.

You allowed yourself another moment of basking in his love; feeling the delight spreading through every vein, through every bone and nerve, all the way to your very core and source of power. Your hands found gentle purchase of Steven’s hair as his lips pressed to your belly.

But then, the inaudible crackle in the air brought you both from your reverie, the breeze screeching of death instead of new life returning.

There was no choice; dread filled your being along with a haunting whisper of opportunity from a voice speaking in tongues you barely understood and yet deciphered as guidance.

You must go. You must try. Despite the risks.

Stood in the middle. Your power. Your victory; your loss.

Your only hope and your possible doom.

“I shall try my best to help, even as I do not know if I will be able to. But Steven…” you addressed him softly, revealing one more piece, one more source of joy, “our little girl must remain safe at any cost.”

The hands sprawled around your middle twitched, a single tear escaping him as his eyes shone.

“Our--- a girl? How-“

“It is but a feeling,” you admitted, earning a brilliant smile which lasted too shortly.

You smiled tightly in return, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Steven’s hand softly caressed your barely-there bump again, butterflies seemingly to erupting in your stomach, your heart humming.

He rose to his feet with something in his eyes turning steely, his gentle voice once against taking on a heaviness of an oath.

“I will protect you both, even if it should be the last thing I will ever do.”

One wavering breath was all the luxury you granted yourself before springing into action, not allowing yourself to lament at the potential of death weaved into Steven’s promise. You could not afford any more distraction. The hourglass was unrelenting, rushing you.

“I know. We shall get going.”

You could feel his eyes on you, a mute confusion as you ruminated through the cabinets, the fire lit, a small pot placed on it, two handfuls of water, milk thistle, ginseng roots, and sprinkle of uncaria leaves added to the mix.

“You can sit down, love, I shall only complete the potion swiftly and we will be on our way,” you assured him, reaching for a pinch of turmeric to add.

Steven did not, in fact, sit down – if anything, you could feel him grow taller behind you, as if his growing bewilderment added an inch or two to his already impressive height. His stare was firmly set on you, a little burning and slightly insulting since you could almost hear his silent questioning of your sanity.

A potion? But you had said-

You looked over your shoulder briefly, your lover’s body nearer than expected, causing you to need to crane you neck a bit.

“No, there is no potion to neutralise the poison – but this remedy strengthens a body, aids it to fight off an infection and weakness,” you explained, expecting Steven’s face clearing, but not waiting for it do so, busying yourself with reading the mental list of ingredients, recalling every indispensable element. Milk thistle, ginseng, uncaria leaves, turmeric… ah. Yes. Where herbs were concerned, rare or common, that would be all. Only one last ingredient.

A gentle hand on your elbow stopped you as you were turning to the stack of knives, halting your movements tenderly but firmly. Blinking, you lifted your gaze to Steven’s face again, disconcerted by his unreadable expression.

“Is it… safe?”

Had it not been for the large distress he was in, the feeling oozing of him and adding to your own shakiness, had it not been for the tenderness of his touch, you’d feign a slap to chase his hand away at the almost silly question – and at the sudden doubt in your knowledge and power and your reign over it.

“Steven, love, my apologies for the bluntness, but Prince Anthony is on his deathbed, so I cannot very well hurt him further and I shall have you known that this very potion you have drunk yourself-”

“For you,” he clarified, two soft syllables in contrast to your slightly exasperated words, your voice falling silent as sweet worry reflected in his sky-blue irises. Despite the circumstance, your heart seared at the fussing, no matter how groundless and ironic. “I am asking whether it is safe for you and our… our child to prepare that. I know it may seem irrational given why I am here, but-“

It was, you had to admit. And yet. You spent a precious moment, precious grains of sand falling in the ominous hourglass above your heads, placing your palm over his hand, reassuring.

“It is perfectly safe, rytier moj… certainly no more dangerous than rushing to the castle, the very heart of the Kingdom, and attempt to save the prince using the most outlawed practice in these lands,” you added with an unsteady cheekiness, earning an exasperated glare; and a full body shudder he couldn’t hope to contain.

The same tremble ran through your body; and yet, the whisper for caution was overshadowed by a tingle of energy unknown, a wordless encouragement. Almost a haunting promise from the Fate itself that bravery shall be rewarded.

But if that were true, where would the ever-present whispers of death and upcoming end fit in the mosaic then?

Shaking your head as well as the overwhelmingly bewildering sensations off, you charmed a soft smile for your lover and love – for the father of your child, already caring so deeply for the life to be born out of your love – and let your hand fall, turning back to your work as stream began to fill the cabin.

One last ingredient; a life essence to help maintain life.

You cradled the handle of the blade carefully in your hand, turning your other palm against the tip; the knife was out of your hand before you could comprehend how, pressed flat to Steven’s thigh, shielded from your touch.

“I’m sorry. I--- is that necessary?” Steven asked with a painful edge to his voice, his continued concern causing your heart to tremble.

“Yes… it is but a drop of blood, my love, I promise. A speckle of life essence to maintain life.”

His frown deepened as you reached for the knife again, fingers brushing his soothingly as you grasped at the handle. So many emotions played over his features; hesitance, concern, guilt. He must have realised you had used your blood before to cure him before you had even learned his name, another sacrifice having been made aside from having left yourself completely vulnerable to him when you had drained your magic and body alike to bring him from the death’s doorstep where you had found him at.

Then, an almost shy question, as if he felt too bold to even suggest such heretic thought.

“Life essence… would mine suffice, then?”

Where his implication was shy – that his mere mortal, human blood could match yours, the blood of a born witch – his determination was not.

He met your eye, a brilliant satisfied sparkle lighting up his irises when he read the truth in your hesitant gaze.

“Yes… it would. But-“

Your knight offered his left palm outstretched, no further questions. The bottomless trust in his gesture and in his eyes caused a lump to grow in your throat; the mere idea of cutting him, even if it was to only be but a scratch, had ache sting deep within your ribcage.

“Are you cert-“

“Would you rather I lead the cut myself, love?” he asked, his voice tender upon your hesitance, understanding the action would cause you pain – as if you were to hurt yourself instead.

And you might as well.

Your hands were made to heal his wounds, not cause them; your hands were made to erase his aches, not bring them; your hands were made to love, not hurt.

Your read in his gentle gaze as he nearly read in yours: I despise the thought of hurting you, rytier moj; It is but alright, bosorka moja.

You shook your head.

“I-- no. I may do it. I apologize, we do not have time for-“

A hand grasping your jaw, soft lips silencing your apologies; your eyes fluttered close despite seeing right through the trick. You felt the pressure of his hand against the blade, the silent sound of protest earning you a deeper kiss, a softer caress of his lips against yours, tasting sweeter than summer breeze, so achingly tender.

“There you go, bosorka moja…”

With his retreat, Steven ran his thumb over your cheek, smiling; then, he moved his injured hand into yours, leading you above the pot.

Slightly dazed and exasperated still, you sighed and carefully squeezed his wound to indeed only spare a drop of his precious blood.

As you pressed your lips to his fingertips in a thank you, you let your healing power flow through your touch, closing the cut your body should have worn.

“This had better be the only blood spilled today,” you whispered; and prayed too. You met your Steven’s stormy gaze as the contents of the pot sizzled, sweet coppery aroma rising in the air.

“It will, bosorka moja. It will.”

He sealed the deal with a kiss, sweet and desperate and bruising.

And falling on deaf ears, whisper in the crowns of the birch trees, his and your words echoed the very same song.

Blood had better be spilled…

Today, today, today…It will, it will, it will…

Next part

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Endearments used: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine)

I hope you liked this - let me know your thoughts!

May your November be sweet and cosy ✨

[imnothulk]

The Odinson-Banner Ceremony.

(I wanted to begin by apologizing, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this. @thir-0dinson )

It was a beautiful day in Iceland, it wasn't too cold, thanks to the invisible dome Tony fabricated, The northern lights were bright and colourful. The gold decorations accentuated with purple flowers (thanks too Iyla) made it quite a sight to see.

Bruce was nervous, but excited. His best men, Pietro, Peter and of course Tony, stood behind him. Thor's best woman Valkyrie and groomspeople Fenrir and Darcy stood on the other side of the altar. Everyone was still waiting on (the other) groom to appear.

The crowd was big, they really went all out on the invitations. He could see his kids in the first few rows. He could see his friends and family, everyone gathered for the special occasion.

Suddenly the crowd quietened, the piano started playing the wonderful wedding melody. Bruce turned to see his beautiful fiance at the end of the isle, his sister Hela by his side and walking him down the isle as they approach him.

When Thor stood before him, Loki began to speak.

"We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of Bruce and my brother Thor. We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends."

Pietro stepped forward and handed each groom their respective ring.

"Now as we begin, please face each other and declare your vows, Brother you may go first"

Thor smiled and began to speak

"Bruce.

I am- very old, i have seen galaxies rise and fall and thousands of empires play their course. I have seen the most beautiful of collapsing stars and gods and temples and buildings that would blow a mortals mind. I have seen the beauty of the edges of space.

And yet, none of that compares to what i see when i look into your eyes. They are like a thousand stars, as large and comforting as my fathers castle and yet as small amd comfortable as being in your arms.

I thought the day you said yes to marrying me would be the happiest day of my life. I was wrong. It dosent even hold a candle to this day, this day that we will be joined together forever. I may outlive you, but i will ensure your memory outlives time. I will ensure i leave a monument to our love for future species to find and think "Oh. Those men were in love. Those men loved each other with a love that survived the ruins of galaxies.

I wish nothing more than for you to be my eternity."

Bruce was crying by the end of it, Loki wiped a tear from his cheek and cleared his throat "Wow okay, Bruce you may declare your vow"

He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Thor,

When I was young I always dreamed of one day finding someone and falling in love, it was one of my greatest dreams. Then the gamma thing happened, and I thought that dream was no more.

That was until you came into my life once more, not only as a friend and work collegue but as more.

You changed my life and showed me how to love again and for that I owe you everything, you make me happy like no one has before, I'm smitten for you.

I spend hours everyday researching and learning and studying different areas of science, lately it's mostly astrology. I've seen countless pictures of stars and suns and countless wonders, but none of it compares to the beauty I see when I gaze at you.

I am the luckiest man alive, and I will continue to be as long as I have you."

Thor smiled brightly and wiped the tears from his eyes. Loki gave the pair a second before continuing.

"Beautiful vows, wonderful. Now, Brother you shall take your ring and place it on his finger as you repeat after me, 'I Thor Odinson, take thee Bruce to be my husband' ".

Thor places the gold ring on Bruce's finger uttering the words "I Thor Odinson, take thee Bruce to be my husband".

"Now you Bruce, take your ring and place it in his finger and repeat the words "I Robert Bruce Banner, take thee Thor to be my husband".

Bruce holds Thor's hand and places the ring on his finger "I Robert Bruce Banner, take thee Thor to be my husband".

Loki smiles at both of them "Now by the powers vested in me by myself, I now declare you both husband and husband, you may kiss the groom"

Bruce moves forward, kissing Thor sweetly. The room erupts in cheers for the newly married couple.

It was truly a day to be remembered.

//Everyone @theironcan @official-pietro-maximoff @reallyreallyspiderman @iyla-difransisco @bisexualswordlady @fenrir-lokison @yeahimdarcy @agent-maria-hill @agent-maria-hill-ofshield-blog @blackwidow-nat-official2 @buckybarnesoffical @clintbarton-thearrowguy @capt-carter-mostly-official @capn-america @deadpool-wade-wilson @daredevil-isnt-catholic-or-blind @friday-the-ai @harleykeener69 @hawkeye-jr @i-am-not-a-toaster @iyla-difransisco @king-ofwakanda @kamala-msmarvel-khan @littlemsbumblebee @midtown-news-official @mysister-isstillaposer @midtown-news-official @natasha-rogersbarnes @nothawkeyeofficial @okoye-general-official @official-buckybarnes @officialscottlang @reallyreallyspiderman @stephenstrange-md-phd @starlordofficial @spidey-official @that-punk-from-brooklyn @therealbuckybarnes @unofficial-non-poser @vpotts-official @virginia-pepper-potts01 @moongirlwidow @midtown-news-official @definitelynot-peterp4rker @mini-green-goblin @goddessof-death @loki-laufeychild

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 17

Revelations In Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Thor accompanies you and Loki back to Tønsberg and a warm welcome from the Asgardian court. A far cry from the golden luxury of the The Golden Palace of the gods, but certainly more homey. The villagers get to know you better and secrets are revealed.

Warnings: 18+ for language & sexual content. Dirty talk, prince/princess kink? (is that a thing?), p in v to make up for the parental issues I'm exorcising in this fic. Rated D for Daddy issues and C for cosy.

A/N: what do you mean it's summer? No I obviously didn't slip on my timeline for posting by like 6 months I don't know what you're talking about.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics , @reveriesources and me.

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Your second journey by Bifrost was no more bearable than the first, leaving your head swimming and your stomach roiling as you came to a stop. 

Thor laughed heartily and slapped Loki on the back, exchanging jovial words about your trist at the Golden Palace, no doubt. The god seemed to have no filter and no qualms about discussing your private life, even in the open square of Tønsberg. 

With a gentle hand on your back, Loki led you forwards, your eyes still on the cobblestones while you attempted to get your bearings without being sick. 

“Welcome back!” Brunnhilde’s voice carried across the harbour and you finally took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. In your haste to get away from the Avengers you had forgotten what had happened the last time you walked along the sea front of Tønsberg and suddenly it all came swimming back. The queasy feeling in your stomach intensified. “I worried we’d never see you hear again,” she strode across the sea soaked front, her arms wide and welcoming, “but we are happy to welcome you back.” 

Thor opened his arms in return, beaming and ready to embrace the King of Asgard, but she bypassed him entirely and wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you away from Loki and lifting your toes off the ground with the ferocity of her embrace. 

“It’s good to see you as well, Brunnhilde.” The panic that had begun to rise ebbed away, and then there was another pressure at your back and Thor enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you into Brunnhilde. 

“Loki’s little trouble maker, back in Tønsberg, I am so happy.” He thrilled, resting his cheek on top of your head and rubbing your arms. “I always wanted a sister-” he paused, “well, a sister that didn’t want to destroy everything -” You both went still as you remembered the prophecy left by Frigga. Thor floundered for words. “Anyway, we shall feast and drink and celebrate your return, I am sure. You are most welcome.”

“That’s quite enough,” Loki coughed, finding your hand again and guiding you, now slightly ruffled, back to his side. You stood on your tip toes and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, nuzzling him with your nose. 

“Don’t be jealous,” you teased, and his arm around you tightened. 

“Jealous? I am not jealous, I am concerned. I left you here once and -” 

 Jealous 

You allowed the thought to float to him and watched as his eyes darkened. 

I am not jealous of that oaf, merely protective. Surely that is allowed after two kidnapping attempts. 

Brunnhilde’s eyes drifted from Loki to your face, watching as it dropped and your shoulders tensed, “-let’s not concern ourselves with the past. Let’s look to the future, come inside we just finished a council meeting so the hall is empty.” She turned and led the way towards the long hall, pulling her suit jacket tight around her middle against the biting wind whipping from the sea. While it’d been cold in America, here it was icy, but before you could shiver you felt the ring of Loki’s magic and a navy blue peacoat engulfed you, the inside already warm. You looked over at Loki, surprised that he wouldn’t put you in his own colours, and he merely smiled, looking out on the sea and pretending he hadn’t noticed your new attire, but you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of emerald green in each shining button. 

You looked out too, seeing the waves on the horizon cresting and falling, the gulls circling the frothing water and steadied yourself to take in Tønsberg with fresh eyes. 

At your first visit, you’d visited Brunnhilde’s cottage, tucked away two streets back from the harbour, inconspicuous and modest. Now she was leading you towards the long, low building that stood in the centre of the main thoroughfare opposite the harbour. Above the door there was a symbol, tall lines forming a pyramid in a strangely familiar way. 

Asgard’s Palace 

Loki looked up too, taking your hand, this is the new symbol of Asgard and our rebuilt court. Welcome, Princess. 

Princess. You hadn’t considered your role here either, that you weren’t just a visitor, but a royal visitor, at the pleasure of the Royal court, small as it was, modest as the Long Hall appeared. And your heart swelled with pride and belonging. Loki squeezed your hand again, the same pride reflected in his eyes. 

You looked around again, viewing the village with fresh eyes. 

Behind the village itself, building work had started on further homes and the dock, which on your previous visit only held a few fishing boats, was full of tourist vessels bobbing next to wooden row boats. 

Thor opened the door of the long building, waving his arm for you to enter.

“Welcome to the Asgardian Court, Princess Estrid.” Thor bowed as you passed and you heard the unmistakable sound of Loki smacking him playfully on the back of the head as he followed. 

Inside the hall was reassuringly simple and looked very much like the village halls you had seen once or twice during your time in London. The noticeboard was full of flyers for music lessons, hobby groups and items for sale, a few images of a village fete and a sign up list for organising events had a few scrawled names, but no contact details. You sighed in relief, half expecting to be thrown back into the excess of the Golden Palace alongside its rules and regulations. But life in the Long Hall seemed much more relaxed and familiar.  

A few people were moving chairs around, stacking them at the edges of the room, calling to each other as they worked. The smell of brewing tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted from the open hatch to the kitchen where a group of older Asgardians carefully placed doilies on trays and arranged mugs. 

The only out of place item was a blue and gold velvet curtain that decorated a dais at one end of the room. Even in the winter light the floor to ceiling windows let in enough light to make the gold brocade shine. 

“Sorry, it’s - King stuff, you know?” Brunnhilde shrugged, almost embarrassed by the pdecadence of the set u[, and waved to another Asgardian in the kitchen, holding her hand up and mouthing drinking, a chorus of ‘just a minute’ responded and before you knew it there was a table set in the middle of the hall, drinks and food covering the surface. 

“By Loki’s face I’m assuming this is more than a social call,” Brunnhilde asked, pouring a large cup of tea into a pint sized mug with Authentic Asgardian Mead printed on the side. 

“Wise as ever,” Loki smiled, “we have come to ask you more questions about Estrid.” Under the table he took your hand, twining your fingers together. “We met another god, claiming to know her, he attempted to kidnap her and - we heard a prophecy.” 

Brunnhilde lent into her chair, rocking it on its legs while Loki described your encounter during the Avenger’s mission and raising an eyebrow at his admission that a prophecy was involved. 

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, I thought she’d keep you out of trouble, not get you into more of it.” She grinned and Thor laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder. 

“She surely is Trouble,” Thor smiled indulgently, ruffling the top of your head. 

“But Loki says he couldn’t see him, he was tall, he had this spear -” suddenly it all bubbled to the surface and you had to get it out, everything you’d seen, what had happened. Between sips of the tea that appeared in front of you, you told Brunnhilde everything. 

“Lugh,” Brunnhilde said, thoughtfully, “it was a five pointed spear, correct?” 

You both nodded and Brunnhilde rocked her chair again, “definitely Lugh, and he knew your mother? And that you should go with him?” She raised an eyebrow again before looking away thoughtfully. 

“He said it over and over, he wanted me to go with him, and said it wasn’t safe for me.” The legs of her chair hit the floor with a thump. 

“And now tell me about the prophecy.” 

Loki took the marble from his pocket and placed the halves together again, releasing the voice of his mother into the room. The Asgardians fell silent, those still tidying from the council meeting stopped and bowed their heads at the memory of their fallen Queen. 

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a singular lamb frolicked in its midst, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.” 

“Frigga,” Brunnhilde whispered, “she had many visions but, I can’t understand why you think this pertains to you?” She turned to you, studying your face. “We have no idea why Frigga sent this to Lugh, if you are the lamb mentioned or the girl. I do not see why he should be involved or concerned with you at all.”

“They were friends, were they not?” One of the villagers said from the kitchen, leaning through the hatch, “Lugh and Brigid, they were firm friends, often talking at the events. Frigga knew Lugh by associate as well. Perhaps that’s why?” 

“Yes, yes,” another agreed. “He was always chatting to the women folk, a kind, gentle man, never married himself mind.” Another dropped off a plate of kanelbulle, the deep scent of cinnamon wafting down the table. 

“Perhaps it’s time the girl heard all,” the time roughened voice came from behind you this time but there were many nods and noises of agreement throughout the room. 

Brunnhilde looked uncomfortable, but settled in her chair nonetheless. “Your mother was married to a man called Bres, a god of sorts who joined with your mother’s pantheon, he even became King, for a time. He was a Midgardian god as Odin was, residing in a place called the Otherworld. He was deeply unpopular, I didn’t want to upset you, when you visited before, you and Loki looked so happy I - I’m sorry. I should have told you, he was not a well liked God, but I wanted to spare you. Your mother though,” a ripple of happy sighs and murmers fluttered around the room and you were instantly self conscious. “She was very well liked, she visited Asgard many times.” 

“So… why did she marry this Bres? Is he my father?”  

“They didn’t love each other did they?” Tears welled in your eyes, for all your fears that you’d be sold into a loveless, political marriage, it had never occured to you that this fate had already befallen your mother. 

“No, I’m sorry, I believe that your mother, Brigid, loved another. Though I’m not sure who. But Bres is not your father, your mother was already pregnant, you see, when the marriage was arranged and you were born just before the ceremony. Your mother was a free spirit, she liked to travel and make friends, she brought back floral and fauna, stories and trinkets, art, crafts and, after a longer journey. You.” 

The four of you sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what Brunnhilde had said. Bres really should have been your father and, officially, he was. But your mother didn’t love him and they weren’t married when you were born - your head swam with new information. 

“I remember.” A voice coughed behind you, stuttering through the passages of time, the stooped Asgardian shuffled around the table. Thor stood and offered her his seat, sliding the chair back into place and standing regally behind it. 

“Please,” you reached your free hand across the table towards the woman, considering Loki was easily two thousand years old, the woman must have been ancient, her face creased with memories, her skin paper thin. “I remember you,” and the memory lit up her eyes, “Estrid, Brigidsdotter, you brought so much joy to the palace, small one. And your mother loved you very much, so much that she brought you many times to spare you from Bres.” At his name the woman looked angry, her lips pursing. 

“She did?” Your eyes welled with tears, you had wondered why you were left on Asgard so much, how you’d come to know the Princes so well if your mother had loved you. 

“My dear small one, you are young, you will learn, sometimes loss is its own kind of affection, she took that burden for you, to protect you.” She paused to cough and you offered her a cup of tea from the pot. “Thank you, always so kind - He was not kind though, he came to you once and there was such shouting as you have never heard, the palace rocked with the sound of it - and in the morning,” she coughed again, “you were gone, small one, the boys, they had forgotten it all.” She reached a hand up and Thor took it between his palms as gently as if he held a small bird. 

“We forgot?” He asked.

“You all forgot, she made you, the Queen, it was for the best for you to forget, so that it would not hurt you to be separated. Especially you, Prince of Mischief.” He eyes twinkled as she smiled at Loki. “I assumed it was to hide you from Bres again, but then Odin sent out a party to search for you.” She hummed, eyes closing a second longer than necessary when she blinked.

“He wanted her back? Safe?” Loki asked.

“He wanted to imprison you I suppose.” She coughed and brought a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan. “You,who had brought so much joy and so much trouble to his doorstep, he was afraid of you.” She laughed but it turned into another wet, painful, cough.

Loki shook his head, “how can that be, the Allfather, afraid of a girl -” he turned to you quickly, “no offence meant, my Darling,” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. 

“No, of course, he is, was, the Allfather, how could he have feared me.” Confusion crossed your face and the old lady patted your hand. 

“Small one, full of power, so much power you could not comprehend. The prophecy, it was about you and he feared you would bring Ragnarok if you stayed, you would burn the city with your magic and dance in the flames.” She shrugged, her cardigan sliding on her thin shoulders, and then took a draught of her tea, smacking her lips and reaching for a biscuit when she was done. 

“But Ragnarok happened already, that’s why we’re here,” Loki scrunched his brow, “and it was Hela, it was nothing to do with Estrid.” 

“Well maybe it was wrong, what do I know.” She patted Thor’s hand. “But I do know,” her eyes twinkled and if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was the same spark of mischief that Loki possessed, “I do know that Lugh,” she said his name like a sigh, one hand over her heart, “he was a kind man to all, and he loved your mother, so very much, that he would protect you, even now. He didn’t know how, of course, but he visited you once and Bres - well - as I say, it shook the palace.” 

Tears were threatening again, you couldn’t help it, it was all too much, should you have gone with him? Trusted him? Had he kidnapped you or was it another? Your mind raced.  

“I’m sorry, small one, I grow very weary, I am not as spritely as I once was.” 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You reached across the table to hug her, your senses filling with an instant calm, a forgotten memory of the Asgardian nursery, the school rooms billowing with chalk dust and the grey teacher who watched over your work. “Thank you.” 

“Oh small one, it is my pleasure to see you so well again.” She smiled back, but tears didn’t come, instead her eyes looked milky and unfocussed, “I - Princess Estrid, what in the Nine Realms are you wearing - and Prince Loki, do unhand the young girl - I was - I was - look at the board -” she made a half turn, stumbling into Thor’s arms, “I must -” 

Thor tucked her tiny arm in his and kept her upright, “I shall escort her home, I know the way.” He nodded at you all, “I trust we shall discuss this later?” 

“Yes, of course brother, later.” Loki touched his elbow as he passed while you stared at the noticeboard again, silent tears spilling down your cheeks. 

When you’d helped to tidy away the table and the other Asgardian ladies had fussed over you awhile, Loki decided it was time to retire and discuss all that had been revealed to you. He had watched you working, leaning against Brunnhilde’s throne, while they spoke in hushed voices about the prophecy.

Outside of the tall windows the night had drawn in quickly, the sun already below the horizon despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon. In the lamplight you could see thick flakes of snow passing in and out of the light. 

“My darling,” Loki cooed, arms curling around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, “you work with my people is much appreciated, but I believe we should leave now, we have much to discuss.” 

You nodded in agreement and said goodbye to your new Asgardian friends. They were friendly, happy people, relaxing into their new life as much as they could with the weight of their loss still hanging heavy over them. You remembered snippets of life in Asgard, but the sheltered palace and walled grounds were a world away from the casual court of this new land, and you had to admit you enjoyed it.

At the door of the long hall Loki waved his hand, alongside your coat, a matching hat and gloves appeared. His own fell around his knees, accentuating the long lines of his body, and he lifted the collar against the chill breeze shifting the airy snow across the doorstep. 

Naturally, you fell into step next to each other, your arms linked and shoulders bumping together. You passed the turning for Brunnhilde’s road and suddenly your heart hammered, you had made it this far last time. You had walked from Brunnhilde’s home to the harbour’s edge, you’d watched the boats, far fewer boats then, bobbing in the waves, and now you were watching them creak against the crisp wind, snow icing their edges. 

“You have nothing to fear, Asynja,” Loki assured, putting his arm around your waist instead. You had to walk slower, but you did feel safer this close to his body. 

“I know -” you took a deep breath, watching it mist in the air as you exhaled, “I was alone before.” 

“Though I’m truly sorry, beyond any words, that I was not here to escort you before, that isn’t what I meant.” He stopped you then and your heart beat wildly. The cottages were lit up in the darkness and you longed to be safe inside. “You have nothing to fear, anything out here stalking you now -” you hitched a breath, “- not that there is,” he cupped your cheeks, tipping your chin up. “There is nothing out here that your power cannot match, nothing that you cannot beat, you have no reason to fear, they should be afraid of you.” His eyes were ablaze, firm and proud. 

“I don’t know about that, Loki, I-”

“Darling, you are Princess Estrid, daughter of Brigid, this is a magnificent lineage all of its own. I’ve seen what you can do, what your raw magic can create, you have nothing to fear.” 

“Okay,” you weren’t entirely convinced, but Loki’s surety made you feel as if you could take on the world anyway, just as long as he was by your side. 

“It seems I need to prove it to you further,” he stepped away from you, taking the coat he’d conjured with him and a chill ran up your spine, the flare of magic was as natural as the shiver itself, a heavy cloak and fur collar fell about you, fluffing up behind your neck to protect you from any further cold. 

Loki smiled, the predatory smile he employed when he had been proved right, “without thought, my darling, you look truly regal, as you deserve to be.” He approached you again, holding his hand out and, as it touched yours, he allowed himself to exchange his modern peacoat for a matching robe. 

“Do you believe me now, Princess?” He teased the question against your lips, pulling back when you leaned into him. 

“Yes, I believe you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Good,” Loki’s cold lips met yours, as all consuming as his belief in you, you tipped your head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together, noses brushing and the snow falling like glitter around you. 

You stumbled over the threshold of Loki’s Tønsberg home intending to take in the details of his cottage, to learn more about him, to talk over the new information revealed at the long hall. But his lips on your neck, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor where it billowed into glittering magic at your feet, the overwhelming scent of him as he slammed the door behind you both and pressed you into the wall. You were incapable of thinking of anything else, of this god before you, a Prince, and you felt every inch the Princess he believed you could be. That sensation alone filled you with a burning desire. 

“Loki,” you moaned and he groaned against your lips. 

“Say my name,” he growled, “say it again.”

“Only if -” you panted, pulling away to drag your sweater over your head, “only if you call me Princess again.” 

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile feral as he loomed over you, one hand braced against the wall, his body hovering over yours, barely touching, the other traced your ear, down your cheek, to your lips. “You like when I call you Princess?” he purred, dragging your bottom lip with his thumb and you latched onto it, drawing the digit into your mouth and nodding. “Then who am I to deny you, Princess.”

“Ugh, Loki,” you sagged against the wall, reaching for his lapels and drawing him back into your kisses.

“That’s a good girl,” he swept you up in his kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Candles flickered as you passed, illuminating the room in a golden glow. 

Loki’s bed was huge, taking up a large portion of the room with its posts and swathes of emerald velvet. He’d placed you on an equally luxurious blanket, but you could feel the cold slick of silk behind you. 

He prowled towards you, crowding you backwards into the pillows and crushing your lips together again. Your hands sought the hard planes of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt and revealing the dips of his muscles to your hungry eyes. 

“I need you so badly, fuck -” you dug your hands into his hair, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Darling,” his chest rumbled with each breath, his kisses deep and languid. 

You weren’t sure whose magic removed the rest of your clothes, but you knew when you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh that this was exactly where you needed to be, where you had always belonged. You canted your hips against him, trying to gain any friction to quell the aching between your legs. 

“My Princess,” he looked down at you, his eyes full of emotion and lust, blurred together into an intoxicating cocktail, you shivered again, your own slick mixing with the precum leaking onto your leg. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, nosing at the sensitive spot on your neck, licking over the pulse. 

“Do you want me to be good?” You teased back, wrapping your legs around his hips.

It took him a moment to answer while he took in your prone form, spread below him in the candlelight, sparking with magic, before he met your eyes again, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“No, I don’t,” he grinned. “I want you to be bad, I want you to be naughty, my Goddess, my Asynja, I want you to be wicked and cruel and ruthless. I want you to take exactly what you want from me." 

You clawed at his back, leaving red tracks on his porcelain skin while he snarled with lust, sheathing himself inside of you. 

He was animalistic, growling as he set a punishing pace, his forehead pressed to yours. 

You gripped his hips, using them to pull yourself closer, rolling your body to meet his with every thrust. 

“Loki - ugh - My Prince!” You cried out, your stomach tightened, clenching around his hard length. 

That feral smile returned and he slowed his movements, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until you were seated in his lap, his cock, so deep, you could swear you could see the outline of him. His hands found your waist again, urging you to begin moving. 

“My Prince,” you panted, squeezing your eyes closed at the sheer bliss of being so close to him, so connected you could feel his heartbeat inside of you. 

“My Princess,” Loki sat up to kiss you, his muscles flexing, sweat dipping into each rivulet, “I want you to take your pleasure, my darling, let me be your throne, tell your court your wicked desires.” 

With a moan you kissed the smile from his face, devouring him, his words like a match to tinder in your veins. And you moved. So slowly it was almost painful, teasing the length of him from your body, feeling the drag of each deliciously, thick inch against your fluttering walls, before lowering yourself again, hands on his chest, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy. 

“That’s it, use my body for your pleasure, sit upon your throne.” He cried as he came hard inside you to the feel of your pulsing walls and tightening fingers. 

As he rolled you over again you were sure you could get used to being a Princess. 

<<Chapter 16

Chapter 18 >>

[brunchable]

The Morning After

Part I || Doctor Strange × f!reader × Steve Rogers

Word count: 7.5K Characters: Black Widow Reader, Strange, Rogers, The Avengers Summary: You wake up in Stephens bed after drinking the Asgardian Ale Thor brought from Asgard. Warning: One night stand, Love Triangle? A/N: The photo ain't mine, I saw it on pinterest and I thought. . . what if y/n woke up in Stephen's bed? Also inspired by this song lol. I think all of my fics is inspired by a song. HELP. This is a multiple part story. I hope you enjoy.

PART II [R18+]- Coming soon.

“Gather 'round, friends, it’s Thor, the God of Thunder, here to tell the tale of one fateful evening—a night when the legendary Asgardian Ale, brewed in the heart of the golden city. A brew so potent, it has brought down the fiercest of warriors, now, this tale is not of epic battles or heroic deeds, but rather of a night where this very ale claimed yet more victims from among the finest heroes of Earth.”

"Now, let me set the scene: it was a grand feast in the tower of the Man of Iron, where Midgard’s greatest heroes gathered to celebrate their triumphs. The mood was joyous, the laughter loud, and the drinks… well, the drinks were stronger than even the mightiest of Asgardians would dare admit!”

"Enter Doctor Stephen Strange, master of the mystic arts, and Y/N, the ever-resourceful Black Widow. Brave, cunning, formidable—yet even they were no match for the enchanting pull of the Asgardian Ale. Oh, they thought they could handle it, that it was just another drink… but little did they know, the ale had other plans!”

"And so, as the night wore on, the ale did its work. It loosened tongues, softened hearts, and—most importantly—muddled minds. By the time the moon had set and the sun was ready to rise, these two found themselves in a most… shall we say, unexpected situation.”

"For when the morning light crept through the windows of the Sanctum Sanctorum, the good Doctor and our dear Black Widow awoke to find themselves in a predicament that no amount of sorcery or spycraft could easily explain. There they were, side by side, both equally confused and—dare I say—horrified by the night’s unforeseen outcome!”

"What follows, dear friends, is a tale of confusion, awkwardness, and a series of events that might just lead to something more… or, at the very least, a very, very interesting morning."

× × × ×

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the ornate rugs and ancient relics scattered around the room. Doctor Stephen Strange stirred, his mind still foggy from the remnants of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar weight on his arm. 

The silk sheets, usually cool and comforting, felt oddly warm and heavy. He shifted slightly, the soft rustling of the fabric the only sound in the stillness.

As he blinked his eyes open, the grogginess quickly gave way to sharp clarity, and he was greeted by a sight that immediately jolted him awake: You, the Black Widow, your tousled auburn hair splayed out on the pillow next to his. The vivid auburn strands created a stark contrast against the deep blue of the pillows, and the way the sunlight caught the strands made them seem to glow. 

His movements woke you up, your eyes, wide with shock, were locked onto his, mirroring the panic that he felt.

Stephen’s mind raced, trying to piece together the events that could have led to this surreal scenario. The faint scent of your perfume, mingled with the familiar, comforting smells of the Sanctum, filled his nostrils. The warmth of your body next to his was both foreign and startling, a stark reminder of the unexplainable situation he found himself in.

Simultaneously, you both glanced down at the sheets, lifting them cautiously. The sight underneath made your eyes widen further. 

You exchanged a horrified look, your faces a mirror of disbelief. Quickly, you dropped the sheets, looked at each other again, and then, as if needing confirmation, peeked under the sheets once more.

"AHHH!" Stephen screamed, jerking away from you.

"AHHH!" You echoed, scrambling to sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest. "What the hell, Strange?! Look away!"

"What the hell, Y/N?!" Stephen shouted back, equally horrified but with his head turned away from you. "Why are you in my bed?!"

“Your bed?!” You looked around, recognizing the distinctive décor of the Sanctum Sanctorum, “Why am I in your bed!?"

“Shit.” Stephen rubbed his face, still trying to wake up fully.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkward silence, the sound of Wong humming a catchy tune as he walked past the door with a tray of breakfast pastries resonated into the room. He paused, glanced into the room, and then continued on his way without a word, though his eyebrows were raised high enough to practically touch his hairline.

"This is not happening.” Stephen groaned, running his hands through his hair. 

You remained quiet, looking traumatized while staring into space, forcing your brain to form any recollection.

"Last thing I remember, we were having that ridiculous amounts of Thor's Asgardian ale. Then we. . . we—”

Suddenly Thor laughing in ridicule echoed in his head. You Midgardians truly are a delicate lot, he said.

“We what?!”

“Underestimated it. . .?”

Just then, Wong finally walked in, this time holding a tray with teapots and cups. He paused mid-step, his eyes darting between the two of you. 

"I see the Doctor is taking 'house calls' a bit too literally now," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Wong, this is not what it looks like!" Stephen exclaimed, scrambling to his feet, the sheets tangling around his legs and causing him to trip while trying to cover his bottom half. He flailed, grabbing onto a nearby chair for balance, only to have it tip over, sending him crashing to the floor.

"Very graceful.”

Wong shook his head, setting the tray down on a nearby table. "I've seen strange things in this Sanctum, but this... this takes the cake. Breakfast is ready, by the way.”

"Wong, I swear, I don't know how this happened.” Stephen managed to extricate himself from the sheets and stood up, his face a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. 

"Sure, you don't. Just like you didn't know how the Eye of Agamotto ended up in the fish tank last week?” Wong raised an eyebrow. 

“That was a magical mishap!" Stephen protested.

Wong chuckled, heading toward the door. "Well, whatever happened, you two might want to get dressed before the rest of the Avengers show up for the morning briefing. Can't wait to hear the explanation for this one.”

Without a word, Stephen quickly conjured a portal to another room, vanishing through it in a swirl of golden sparks to get dressed and, more importantly, to escape the awkwardness.

You hurried to get dressed as well, eager to avoid lingering in the uncomfortable silence, and made your way to the meeting room. 

As you head to descend the grand staircase, your mind is still racing, seeing Stephen without his clothes—an image you've never dared to imagine before. You turned a corner and—thud!—collided directly with Stephen, who had just stepped out from his portal.

"Whoa!" you both exclaimed simultaneously, your voices overlapping in a jumble of startled sounds.

There was a moment where you both froze, staring at each other, shocked to see each other so soon when you planned to avoid Stephen the rest of the day. . . or indefinitely. 

Stephen recovered first, awkwardly adjusting his cloak as though it might somehow smooth over the situation.

"Uh, sorry, I—didn't see you there," he stammered, trying to step aside and give you space.

"No, no, it's fine," you replied quickly, waving it off with a forced laugh that sounded more nervous than casual. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

You both tried to continue walking as if nothing had happened, but in your haste to act normal, you ended up sidestepping in the same direction, then awkwardly shuffling the opposite way, only to block each other again.

"After you," Stephen said, his voice a bit too high-pitched with forced politeness.

"No, no, you go ahead," you insisted, waving him forward, though your hand gesture came out more like a nervous flail.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long moment of shuffling and half-smiles, you managed to move past each other, continuing down the stairs at a brisk pace, trying to put as much distance as possible between yourselves. 

You both knew you'd failed miserably at playing it cool, but neither of you dared to look back or acknowledge it. As you reached the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the meeting room, you couldn’t help but wonder if this day could get any more embarrassing. Judging by the start, it seemed likely. 

× × × ×

As you entered together, Tony Stark was already there, phone in hand. He didn't say a word, just snapped a photo the moment you both walked in.

"Morning, lovebirds," Tony said with a mischievous grin.

You groaned, shaking your head. "Seriously, Stark?"

Tony laughed, pocketing his phone. "Oh, this one's for the highlight reel. Don't worry, I'll send you both a copy."

As you took your seats, trying to ignore Tony's teasing, Thor walked in, grinning broadly. "Well, well, looks like my ale claimed a couple more victims. Didn't I warn you about its strength?"

Stephen groaned. "We might have underestimated it a bit."

"A bit? I think I need a new liver." You grimaced, rubbing your right side.

"Next time, perhaps you two will heed my warning. Asgardian ale is not for the faint of heart!” Thor laughed heartily.

You rolled your eyes, still in a grimace. You didn't remember him giving an actual warning, "Thanks, Thor. We'll keep that in mind."

"Next time, we're sticking to the lightweight stuff. Like water." Stephen added.

"Wise choice. But where's the fun in that?” Thor shrugged.

Just then, Barton sauntered in, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, I heard we had a slumber party at the Sanctum last night. Everyone had fun?"

"What did I miss?” Wanda raised an eyebrow.

“Oh these two here tasted the might of my Asgardian Ale!" Thor declared proudly, slapping Stephen on the back so hard it nearly knocked him out of his chair.

You and Stephen exchanged a quick glance. "Something like that," Stephen said.

Thor nodded, grabbing a seat. "Ah, the joys of revelry. Once, I woke up in a field surrounded by screaming goats. No idea how I got there.”

"That sounds... interesting, Thor. Thank you for sharing." You say with your best sarcastic tone.

“You’re welcome. The best stories come from the nights you can't quite remember. Especially when you wake up in unusual company.” Thor laughed with cheer, obviously taking a jab at the situation.

Steve, who had been quietly observing with a smile at the corner of the room, suddenly narrowed his eyes, sensing the tension.

You sank into your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Tony, what did you do?”

"Sorry," Tony replied with an unapologetic grin, "I think I accidentally sent your highlight reel photo to that unwanted group chat Banner created.”

“Wow, thanks Tony.” Bruce mumbled.

"Great, just what we needed," Stephen muttered, rolling his eyes.

Cap, ever the gentleman, quickly stepped in to steer the conversation back on track. “Alright, since everyone is here, let's focus on the briefing. Stephen, how's the mystical side of things?” 

× × × 

Stephen cleared his throat, trying to compose himself and focus on the task at hand. "Right, uh... mystical threats. So, recently, we've had some minor disturbances in other dimensions, particularly around the... um…”

He trailed off, his mind suddenly flashing back to the previous night. He remembered the two of you huddled in a corner, both of you giggling like kids, as you attempted to teach him how to perform a simple card trick without using magic. You had insisted it was a basic skill every “sorcerer” should know, and despite his vast knowledge of the mystic arts, Stephen struggled with the sleight of hand. Each time he messed up, you would burst out laughing, and eventually, so did he, the two of you caught in a cycle of laughter that seemed endless.

 Stephen blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. "Uh, disturbances... yes. There was an issue with a, uh, pocket dimension, near the, um..." His voice wavered as another memory surfaced.

This time, it was the two of you back at the Sanctum, stumbling through the portal he had opened, both of you laughing hysterically at something neither of you could now recall. You had accidentally knocked over a priceless artifact, and instead of being concerned, you both had fallen into fits of uncontrollable laughter. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, making his heart skip a beat.

He coughed, desperately trying to get back on track. "Right, so the, uh... the pocket dimension. We managed to stabilize it, but there were... complications. Minor, really…”

But his voice faltered again as another memory slipped through. This one was quieter, more intimate. The two of you were sitting side by side on the balcony, sharing a drink. The atmosphere was calm, almost serene, as you both watched the flamingos fly away. You had leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he remembered the warmth of your presence, the soft sound of your breathing in the quiet night. He couldn’t recall what you had said, but he remembered the way it made him feel—content, at peace, and something more that he wasn’t ready to name.

"Doctor Strange?" Steve’s voice cut through the haze, bringing him sharply back to the present.

"Uh, yes, sorry," Stephen stammered, feeling his face flush. "What I mean to say is... the mystical threats are... under control. Nothing major. Just a few minor disturbances that we've, uh, managed to contain.”

As he spoke, his eyes involuntarily drifted toward you, catching your gaze for just a split second before he quickly looked away, his face turning an unmistakable shade of pink. He turned his head abruptly, pretending to adjust his cloak to hide the blush that had crept up his cheeks.

"You sure everything’s alright in the mystical world, Doc?" Tony asked, the teasing tone in his voice barely concealed.

Stephen nodded quickly, trying to compose himself. "Yes, absolutely. Everything’s fine. No major threats. We’re good. All clear.”

But as he finished, another flash of the previous night’s events hit him—a quick, jumbled memory of you leaning in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered something that made his stomach flip. He had no idea what you had said, but the memory of your breath on his skin was enough to make his heart race all over again.

"All clear," he repeated, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. His mind was anything but clear. If anything, it was more muddled than ever, filled with fragmented memories that both excited and terrified him.

Steve, sensing something was off but choosing not to press, simply nodded. “Alright then. If there's nothing else, we'll wrap this up.”

Stephen exhaled in relief, glad the briefing was over, but as everyone began to file out, Tony's grin only grew wider. He had clearly picked up on Stephen's discomfort. 

As you stood to leave, Stephen risked one last glance at you, his heart still racing. You were avoiding his gaze, your expression unreadable, but he could tell you were just as distracted as he was.

× × × ×

After the meeting wrapped up, the Avengers began to disperse, each heading off to their respective tasks. Just as you were about to leave, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Steve Rogers standing there, his usual calm demeanor in place, but there was something softer in his eyes as he looked at you.

"Y/N," Steve began, his voice gentle but carrying that unmistakable authority. "Got a minute?”

"Of course, Cap. What’s up?” You nodded, though you felt your heart skipped a beat. 

Steve smiled slightly at the use of his nickname, "I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… distracted today. Is everything alright?”

"Yeah, just… you know, last night's party and all that. Still trying to shake off the effects.” You hesitated, trying to decide how much to share.

"I understand. But if there’s anything more to it, you know you can talk to me, right?” Steve nodded slowly, but the way his gaze was glued on you made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. 

“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that. Really, though, it’s nothing major.” You offered a small smile, appreciating his concern.

Steve studied you for a moment, his blue eyes holding an intensity that made your heart flutter. He seemed to be debating something internally before he finally spoke again, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Listen, Y/N… I was about to head back to the compound, and I was wondering… do you need a ride?” 

"A ride? On your motorcycle?” 

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I know it’s not the usual mode of transport around here, but I thought you might like some fresh air. Clear your head a bit."

“That sounds nice, actually. I could use a little fresh air.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of riding with Steve on his motorcycle. It was such a classic, straightforward gesture—so very Steve.

“Great,” Steve said, and you could hear the relief in his voice, “Shall we?”

As you walked out toward the front of the Sanctum Sanctorum, your thoughts still spinning from the day’s events, you heard a voice call out your name.

“Y/N, wait,” Stephen’s voice, a little rushed and breathless, echoed through the hallway. 

You turned around to see him approaching, his expression serious but laced with something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Stephen?” you said, your hand resting on the doorframe. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” Stephen hesitated, his eyes flicking from your face to somewhere over your shoulder, where Steve was waiting by his motorcycle. He seemed to be searching for the right words, but they didn’t come easily. His brow furrowed slightly as if he was wrestling with something internally.

You waited, feeling the weight of the silence stretching between you. There was a tightness in your chest, a nagging sense that something important was about to be said. 

You took a small step closer, trying to catch his gaze, but his eyes kept darting away, unable to meet yours for more than a fleeting moment.

“Stephen?” you prompted gently, your voice softening as you tried to encourage him. “What is it?”

He finally looked at you, really looked at you, and for a split second, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a carefully guarded expression, but that momentary glimpse was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“I just wanted to have a quick chat before you head out,” Stephen finally said, though his voice was quieter than before, almost as if he was second-guessing his decision to speak up. “It won’t take long.”

The hesitation in his voice was palpable, and it only added to the growing tension between you. You could see the conflict in his expression—the way his jaw tightened, the way his hand flexed slightly at his side, as if he was holding himself back from saying something more.

You nodded, though a part of you was still trying to decipher the emotions playing across his face. “Sure, no problem.”

As you turned back to Steve, you caught a glimpse of him watching the exchange with a blank, unreadable expression, but it’s obvious that he was paying close attention. The realization that both men were acutely aware of each other’s presence only added another layer into your growing anxiety.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you said to Steve, forcing a smile that you hoped would mask the unease that was creeping into your chest.

“Take your time. I’ll be right here,” Steve replied, his voice steady and reassuring, but his gaze lingered on Stephen for a moment longer before returning to you.

You offered Steve a grateful nod before turning back to Stephen, who had already started walking toward a quieter corner of the main hall. As you followed him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this conversation than either of you were willing to admit.

Once you were alone, Stephen stopped, his back to you for a moment as he seemed to gather his thoughts. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was conflicted, his usual confidence replaced by uncertainty since he doesn't know where or how to place himself.

"I just… I wanted to make sure everything’s okay between us after this morning," he began, his voice careful, measured. "I know things are a bit… awkward.”

There was a pause, and in that silence, you tried to read the emotions flickering across his face. His eyes, usually so focused and intense, were softer now. It was as if he was waiting for you to give him some kind of reassurance, something to ease the tension that had settled between you.

"I mean, everything's been chaotic," you replied, your own voice laced with a nervous edge, "but I don’t want it to make things weird between us either.”

Stephen nodded, though you could see the way his shoulders tensed slightly, as if he was bracing himself for something. "Yeah, I feel the same way. It’s just… I’ve been trying to piece together what happened last night. . .”

His words hung in the air, unfinished, as he hesitated again. You could sense the unspoken question lingering behind his words, the uncertainty that mirrored your own. But even as he spoke, his eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer that neither of you were ready to give.

“It’s pretty clear what happened,” you interjected, your tone firmer than you intended. “I think it’s best if we just leave it as it is. . . My mind is already a mess, I just need some time.”

Stephen’s heart sank at your response, but he tried to hide it, his expression tightening for just a moment before he forced a nod. The disappointment that flickered across his face was subtle, but it was there, and it made your stomach twist with guilt.

He had hoped—needed—there to be more to say, a way to unravel the confusion that had been left hanging between you both, but your words made it clear that you preferred to bury the past, to move on without digging deeper. 

It wasn’t the answer he had wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to challenge it.

“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he finally said, though the words felt hollow as they left his lips.

A heavy silence settled between you. Stephen opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then closed it, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. The weight of unspoken thoughts and unacknowledged feelings hung heavily in the air, filling the space between you with a tension that neither of you knew how to break.

You searched his face one last time, trying to understand the depth of what he wasn’t saying, but his expression had shifted back to that carefully controlled neutrality. Whatever he had been about to say, he had chosen to keep it to himself.

Finally, you took a small step back, glancing toward the door where Steve was waiting. “I should probably go. Steve’s waiting.”

At the mention of Steve, Stephen’s heart gave another uncomfortable lurch, and this time, he couldn’t completely mask the flicker of jealousy that crossed his face. It was brief, barely noticeable, but you caught it.

“Yeah, of course,” Stephen said, his voice more strained than before. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

You offered him a small, apologetic smile, sensing the shift in his mood but feeling it was necessary to draw a line. “Thanks for understanding, Stephen. I appreciate it.”

He gave a nod, though the word “anytime” felt almost like an afterthought, his voice lacking the usual warmth. There was something deeply unsettling about the way this conversation had ended, but you knew that pressing further might only complicate things even more.

With that, you turned and walked out of the room, leaving Stephen standing there, his thoughts a chaotic mix of regret and uncertainty. 

He watched as you joined Steve outside, noting the way Steve’s face lit up slightly when he saw you. The two of you exchanged a few words, and then Steve handed you the helmet with a warm, reassuring smile.

Stephen’s heart twisted painfully as he watched you climb onto the motorcycle behind Steve, your arms wrapping around his waist as you settled in. The sight of the two of you together, so close and comfortable, stirred a deep sense of jealousy within him—something he hadn’t expected to feel so intensely. 

He had kept his feelings hidden for so long, not wanting to complicate the dynamic between you, but seeing you with Steve, even for a brief moment, made him wonder if he had waited too long.

As the motorcycle roared to life and sped down the street, Stephen stood there, alone in the quiet Sanctum, grappling with the realization that he might have missed his chance to tell you how he really felt—a part of him couldn’t shake the thought that maybe forgetting wasn’t the best idea after all.

And as Steve drove, he glanced briefly in his side mirror, catching a glimpse of Stephen standing in the doorway, watching you both leave. Steve’s grip on the handlebars tightened slightly, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to focus on the road ahead. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the ride back to the compound had become far more complicated than he’d anticipated.

While the motorcycle sped down the road, the world around you seemed to blur into a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, guilt, and something deeper that you weren’t ready to face. 

You tightened your grip around Steve’s waist, trying to ground yourself in the present, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the look on Stephen’s face, the things you didn't give him a chance to say. And with each passing mile, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice—or if you were leaving something important behind.

× × × ×

The motorcycle roared down the winding roads, the wind rushing past you as you clung to Steve’s solid frame. The world around you blurred into streaks of color—trees, buildings, the sky—yet the rush of the ride did little to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

You should have felt the thrill of the ride, the freedom of the open road, but instead, all you could focus on was the conversation with Stephen. The way he hesitated, the way his eyes darted away from yours, as if he was hiding something—no, not hiding, holding back. The tension in his voice had been undeniable, and now, as you sped away from the Sanctum, you couldn’t help but wonder what he had really wanted to say.

Being Black Widow, you were trained to compartmentalize, to push emotions aside when necessary. But the events of the morning, combined with the tension between you, Stephen, and Steve, made it hard to keep everything neatly locked away. Stephen’s hesitation, his guarded expression, and Steve’s quiet concern—these were things you couldn’t easily ignore.

Your thoughts were interrupted as Steve turned slightly, his voice carrying over the noise of the motorcycle. "You okay back there?" he asked, his tone gentle, but with an undercurrent of concern.

You realized you’d been holding your breath and quickly exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering tension. "Yeah," you called back, forcing a smile that you knew he couldn’t see. "Just… a lot on my mind."

Steve nodded, though you could feel the way his body tensed slightly beneath your grip, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced by your answer. He knew you too well; he could sense when something was deeply weighing on your mind. "If you want to talk about it…"

His offer hung in the air, but you didn’t respond right away. What could you say? That you were torn between the memory of a night you couldn’t fully recall? That you were struggling to untangle your own emotions, not knowing if you should pursue them or let them go?

The motorcycle continued down a long, empty stretch of road, and you assumed you were headed straight for the compound. But after a few moments, you noticed Steve taking a turn down a road that didn’t lead in the direction of the compound. It wasn’t the familiar path back—this road led toward the outskirts of the city, a more secluded area.

"Steve?" you called, a note of curiosity creeping into your voice. "Where are we going?"

Steve didn’t answer right away, his focus on the road ahead, but you could sense the deliberateness in his actions. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm but with a hint of something more—something determined. 

"Thought we could use a detour. Clear your head a bit before we head back. I think you need it”

Steve continued down the road, the city slowly fading away behind you. The landscape became more open, with rolling hills and patches of forest lining the sides of the road. It was a route you hadn’t taken before, and the unfamiliarity of it was oddly comforting—a break from the routine, a moment to breathe.

After a while, Steve slowed the motorcycle, turning onto a narrow, tree-lined path. The air was cooler here, the dense foliage creating a canopy overhead. Eventually, he brought the bike to a stop in a small clearing by a quiet, shimmering lake. The water was calm, reflecting the sky and the surrounding trees in perfect stillness.

Steve cut the engine, and for a moment, the silence was overwhelming. You both sat there, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. It was peaceful, almost surreal, after the whirlwind of emotions and confusion you’d been dealing with all morning. He took off his helmet and dismounted, looking back at you with a soft hesitant smile. 

"I figured you might need a break. This place… it’s always been somewhere I go when I need to think."

You followed suit, removing your helmet and stepping off the bike. The ground felt solid beneath your feet, and the cool breeze off the lake was refreshing, grounding you in the present moment. 

"It’s beautiful," you said softly, taking in the serene surroundings. "I didn’t know a place like this existed around here."

Steve nodded, his gaze fixed on the tranquil water. "Not many people do. It’s kind of a hidden spot, but it’s been here for as long as I can remember. I come here sometimes. When things get… complicated."

You glanced at him, his words resonating more than he might have realized. "It’s peaceful," you acknowledged, though your tone was still guarded, your mind alert even in this serene environment.

Steve watched you closely, his expression understanding. "You don’t have to talk about what’s on your mind," he offered, his voice gentle. "But I’m here if you need to."

It was a simple statement, but it carried weight. You were used to relying on yourself, keeping others at arm’s length. But Steve’s quiet presence, his never-ending support—it was different. Disarming, in a way you weren’t accustomed to.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when you had harbored a crush on Steve—a deep, confusing mix of admiration and affection that you had tried hard to push down. He was Captain America, after all—the embodiment of everything good and noble, and for a while, you couldn’t help but be drawn to him. 

But you had convinced yourself that his heart belonged to someone else, that he was still in love with Peggy Carter, the woman from his past who seemed to cast a long shadow over his present. You had seen the way he looked at Peggy’s picture, the way he spoke about her with such reverence, and it had made you believe there was no room in his heart for anyone else.

So you had buried those feelings, told yourself it was better to move on, to focus on your work, on the missions. You had even started to convince yourself that those feelings had faded, that they were nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. But now, standing here with Steve, you felt them stir again, refusing to stay buried.

And then there was Stephen. Your growing affections for him had caught you off guard—what started as a mutual respect for his intellect and strength had slowly turned into something more, something you hadn’t quite been ready to confront. 

The way he could be both infuriatingly arrogant and deeply compassionate, the way he had made you laugh at the party, the way his presence had a grounding effect on you—it had all begun to carve out a space in your heart that you hadn’t anticipated.

"It’s not easy to sort through," you admitted, your voice low, almost reluctant. "There’s a lot to unpack."

Steve nodded, his gaze steady. "You don’t have to unpack it all at once," he said quietly. "Take it as it comes."

His words were kind, but there was an undercurrent of something more—a tension that hummed just beneath the surface. 

You met his eyes, and for a moment, the usual defenses you kept so firmly in place wavered. Steve’s patience, his willingness to let you take things at your own pace—it was a kind of understanding that you weren’t used to, and it made the knot in your chest loosen, just a little.

But as the silence stretched on, you couldn’t ignore the way Steve’s gaze lingered on you, the way his jaw tightened slightly, as if he too was conflicted by something. There was something he wasn’t saying, something that made the air between you feel charged, like the calm before a storm.

You felt a pang of guilt as you remembered the way Stephen had looked at you that morning, the way his voice had faltered when he tried to talk about what had happened. 

And now, here you were with Steve, who was looking at you with that same unspoken emotion in his eyes—only this time, it felt different. More complicated.

"Steve…" you began, unsure of what you wanted to say, but needing to break the silence that was becoming increasingly heavy. "I appreciate you bringing me here, but…"

"But you’re thinking about Stephen," Steve finished for you, his voice quieter now, his eyes darkening with something you couldn’t quite place—was it hurt? Jealousy?

You blinked, taken aback by his directness. "It’s not like that," you said quickly, but even as you spoke the words, you weren’t entirely sure they were true.

Steve turned away slightly, his gaze drifting out over the lake, but his expression was tense. "Maybe not. But something happened last night, didn’t it? Between you and him.”

You didn’t answer right away, the truth of his words settling heavily between you. "I don’t know what happened," you finally admitted. "It’s all a blur."

“But it’s on your mind,” Steve pressed gently, though there was a tension in his voice that hadn’t been there before. 

You tilted your head, sensing the shift but not fully understanding its source. "You’re acting a little… weird, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes flicked away from yours, out over the lake, as if gathering his thoughts. "Weird? No, not weird," he said, "Just… trying to figure something out.”

"Figure out what?" you pressed, genuinely confused. You knew Steve well enough to recognize when something was bothering him, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was this time. "Is it about the mission? Or something with the team?”

Steve exhaled slowly, his shoulders tensing as he processed your words. He wasn’t angry—not exactly—but there was a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you now, a mix of emotions that made your heart race. 

"It’s not the mission," he said finally, his voice low but steady. "It’s about you.”

"Me?" you repeated, caught off guard. "What about me?”

"You and Stephen," Steve clarified. There was no accusation in his tone, but it was clear that something about the situation was weighing heavily on him. "I saw the way he looked at you this morning. And I saw the way you looked at him.”

"Steve, I—”

"You’re on his mind, Y/N," Steve interrupted, his voice softening, but the tension in his posture remained. "And he’s on yours. I can see it.”

There was no use denying it, not when Steve was looking at you with that penetrating gaze, as if he could see right through you. “Yeah,” you said softly. “He is.”

"I can’t compete with that," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You frowned, still not quite understanding where this was coming from. “Why would you need to compete, Steve, what are you talking about?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. When he finally did, his voice was rougher, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. "I care about you, Y/N. More than I probably should. But seeing you with Stephen… it made me realize that maybe I’m too late. Maybe I should've just been honest from the start.”

The air seemed to leave your lungs as his words sunk in. “Steve..”

“I didn’t want to say anything," Steve continued, his eyes still focused on the water, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I didn’t want to make things complicated between us. But now… I can’t pretend I don’t feel this way. I can’t pretend that knowing that something happened between you with him doesn’t… doesn’t hurt.”

You stood there, stunned into silence. Steve’s confession was the last thing you had expected, and the weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders. You had always known Steve cared about you, but this… this was something entirely different. And it brought all those buried feelings rushing back, feelings you had tried so hard to forget because you thought his heart was already spoken for.

But then there was Stephen, who had slowly, subtly made his way into your heart. The warmth of his smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he could make you laugh even in the direst situations—it all made it impossible to ignore the connection that had been growing between you two. 

And now, you found yourself standing at a crossroads, torn between the man you adore and the man who had become an unexpected part of your life.

"Steve, I didn’t know," you whispered, your voice shaky with the shock of his sudden confession. "I never thought…"

"I know," Steve said quickly, finally turning to look at you. "I know you didn’t. And I don’t blame you for that. But now that it’s out there… I just need you to know. I need you to know how I feel about you.”

The raw honesty in his voice made your heart ache, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly at a loss for words. You had always seen Steve as your rock, your steady, unflappable friend, but now, standing in front of you, he seemed almost fragile, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

"I don’t want to lose you," Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself leaning into his palm, the closeness between you suddenly overwhelming. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. 

"But I don’t want to stand in your way, either. If you have feelings for Stephen… if you want to be with him… I’ll step back. I’ll let you go.”

His words broke something inside you, and you felt tears sting your eyes, though you fought to hold them back. The way Steve was looking at you—so full of raw emotion, so open and unguarded—made your heart twist painfully in your chest. 

"I don’t know what to say— I don’t want to lose you either.” you said, your voice trembling.

Steve’s face was so close to yours now that his forehead touched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of it sending a surge of conflicting emotions through you. 

For a moment, you thought he might kiss you—there was a part of you that wanted him to—but he didn’t. Instead, he just held you there, his hand still cradling your cheek, his eyes filled with an emotion that you thought would look at you that way.

"You won’t lose me," Steve promised, his voice low and full of conviction. But there was a vulnerability in his words, a silent plea for you to understand just how much you meant to him. The weight of it settled heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

Your mind raced, caught between the intensity of the moment and the memories of everything that had led up to this. You remembered the times you’d watched Steve from afar, admiring his strength and kindness, wishing for something more but always telling yourself it could never be. And then there were the recent moments with Stephen—the shared laughter, the way he’d looked at you during the party, the connection that had grown between you when you hadn’t even been looking for it.

"I… I don’t know what to do, Steve," you admitted, chuckling as a way to cope. "I care about you, I really do.”

Steve’s eyes flickered with something—understanding, pain, maybe both. "It’s okay," he said softly, though you could hear the strain in his voice. "I just needed you to know. Whatever happens, I’m here for you. I always will be.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten with emotion. How had things become so complicated? You had tried so hard to move on from your feelings for Steve, to protect yourself from the heartache of unrequited love. And then Stephen had come into the picture, turning your world upside down in ways you hadn’t expected. Now, the idea of hurting either of them made you feel sick to your stomach, but you knew that avoiding the truth wasn’t an option either.

You reached up and placed your hand over Steve’s, still cupping your cheek, and the warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and confusing. 

"Steve, I… I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice shaking with the weight of your own indecision. "I’m so torn right now.”

Steve nodded slowly, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek one last time before he let his hand drop. 

“Take all the time you need,” he said, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes, “Whatever outcome you choose, I won't change, I'll still care for you just like how I do now.”

× × × ×

Stephen paced back and forth in the Sanctum’s main hall, his thoughts tangled and uneasy. The morning’s events had left him shaken, not just because of the unexpected situation he had woken up to, but because of the emotions that had surfaced in its wake. He had tried to push them aside, focusing on the day’s tasks, but every time his mind wandered, it inevitably drifted back to you—your shocked expression, your voice as you insisted that it would be better to forget what had happened, and the lingering warmth of your presence beside him.

He needed to understand. Not just what happened, but to confirm he doesn't want to let this go easy. After last night. . . he thinks he’s now in love with you.

Stephen leaned back in his chair, his thoughts racing. There was a spell he could use—Memoratus Arcanum, a memory recall spell. It wasn’t a spell he used lightly, but this wasn’t a decision he was taking lightly either. 

The spell would allow him to relive the events of the previous night with perfect clarity, to see everything as it had happened, unclouded by the fog of alcohol. Most importantly, it would help him understand the feelings that had been awakened in him.

With a steadying breath, Stephen stood up and moved to a small table in the corner of the room. The study was filled with the familiar scent of old books and the faint, lingering aroma of incense—comforting smells that helped him focus. He gathered the items he needed for the spell: a small silver mirror, an incantation sheet and a candle to help center his thoughts.

He set the items on the table and sat down cross-legged in front of them, the silver mirror resting in front of him. Lighting the candle, he watched the flame flicker for a moment before closing his eyes, centering himself as he began to chant the incantation. The words flowed easily from his lips, a familiar rhythm that calmed his racing thoughts.

As he finished the incantation, the mirror’s surface began to shimmer, the room around him fading as the spell took hold. The mirror now showed the swirling mists of memory, and Stephen leaned in closer, his heart beating faster as the mists cleared to reveal the events of the previous night. . .

[nyxlaufeyson]

Mad Happiness

Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Fluff + Angst

Wordcount: 1,290

Synopsis: Your parents are dead set on having you marry Thor, and forbid you from seeing Loki until they realize you and Thor won't work out.

A/N: This is for @little-diables 15k celebration contest! This fic uses a Hamlet quote which will be in bold and italics.

You paced the room, counting every step and taking calculated breaths. Isabelle, your handmaid, had gone to check the mail. You and Loki were banished from seeing each other, but that wouldn’t stop your communication. 

Isabelle walked in, and you rushed over to her. In her hands lay a golden envelope with the royal stamp. You kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you Isabelle!” 

She simply nodded. While Isabelle was not keen on your insistence to remain in touch with Loki, she could tell that the two of you were madly in love. She loved you like a mother, and wanted to see you happy.

You sat down at your desk, carefully opening the envelope with a letter opener so as not to rip it. The paper inside smelled of tea leaves and your prince. You unfolded it, holding your breath as you began to read.

My Dearest Flower,  It shall not be long until I hear your laugh again. Thor has managed to bring his mortal to Asgard, and Frigga is convincing Odin that they should give the couple their blessing. Once that is done, your parents will be forced to give up on the prospect of you and Thor. His love, Jane, is an interesting individual. I believe you will like her. Remind Isabelle that I am deeply indebted to her for delivering these letters. I feel mad enough as it is without seeing you, if I had no communication at all I would surely die.  Yours forever, Loki

You made your way to your bed with the letter still in hand, laying down on your back. Isabelle watched you blush and smile at the ceiling as she moved to get you ready for bed. 

His love was something you could hold onto, even after your parents forbid you from meeting with him. Isabelle stood at the foot of your bed, trying to get your attention away from the sparkling daydreams that filled your head. 

With a wave of her hand, you came back to the room and gave her a soft smile. “Oh! Loki sends his thanks. He says he is ‘deeply indebted’ to you.” 

Isabelle chuckled. “Smooth talker, that one is. You better keep an eye out for lies.” She talked like she believed Loki to be the dark prince of lies. However, she sensed that he would never lie to you.

You let her help you up, still dazing. “I love him.” You whispered, and she sighed, taking your hand and walking you over to the bath. 

“I know.” She said simply, undoing the strings on your clothes and helping you step into the warm bathwater. 

As she scrubbed you, your mind wandered to the first time you told your parents about your love for Loki. They had looked at you indecorously, calling you mad.

“You're young, you don’t know what you want. You don’t know what’s best for you.” Your mother said.

“We are the only ones looking out for your future, and you repay us with these childish feelings?” Your father asked, shaking his head. “Absolute madness.”

They had already been quite upset, but you made it worse with your reply. “Aren’t we all a little mad? What is love if not madness?”

Your father slammed his fist on the table, dismissing your words. “That’s enough. Go to your room.” You began to protest, but it fell on deaf ears and you were forced to retire for the night into your room.

Even now, with Thor clearly in love with another, they did not give up on trying to get you in wedlock with the crowned prince. No matter how many times you declared that you loved Loki. It didn’t matter that he was still a prince, it wasn’t good enough for them.

They called your love for each other immature. They said that you weren’t thinking clearly, and had tried several times to snap you out of your ‘trance.’They declared your love to be out of a delirious high of happiness that made you throw all of your common sense out the window. 

You couldn’t care less what your parents thought about you and Loki. You had never wanted to marry Thor anyway. Although he was a total sweetheart, he didn’t have your heart. And you didn’t have his. Thor fell for a Midguardian girl that he met during his brief banishment to Midgard.

It wouldn’t be long until your parents would be forced to accept reality. Once Thor and Jane were married, it would all be okay. You just had to hold on a little bit longer.

~~~~~

A sob burst out from downstairs. It was your mother. You rushed downstairs, finding your mother crying on your father’s shoulder. In his hand was a letter, an envelope with the royal stamp laying open beside him. 

A grin spread across your face, despite your better judgment. You quickly smothered it, not wanting to further upset your parents.

“What’s all the fuss about?” You asked, walking over to them. Of course, you could easily tell that the letter they just opened announced Thor’s wedding with another.

Your mother barely could stop her cries to talk to you. “We-” She managed to choke out. “We have received a royal wedding invitation.”

You let yourself genuinely smile. “That’s wonderful.” You said. Your father scowled at you, although he was not surprised in the least. 

“Now what are we going to do! Our daughter will never become royalty!” You refrained from rolling your eyes.

Walking over to your mother, you took her hand in yours. “Mother, I believe you are mistaken. Remember how there are two princes?” You asked, and she glared at you.

She shook her head, frowning. “Loki does not have the reputation that Thor does, and he will tarnish your-and our-reputation.” 

“Mother, please. Reputation or not, I still love him, and he loves me. Why can’t you see that? Shouldn’t you want nothing but joy for your daughter? He brings me happiness! A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. Deprive me of this mad happiness and I will not be able to function. I may be mad now, but you have not seen the least of just how mad I could be without my beloved.”

Your parents stood silent, stunned by your words. The clearing of Isabelle’s throat made you turn around to find her standing with a gaping Loki. You curtsied, and facing you, Loki recollected himself and regarded your parents. 

They ignored him, much to your dismay, so you turned around to scowl at them. They seemed to recollect their senses and bowed.

Loki gave them a tight smile. “I have come to ask of you to join me as my date to the royal wedding. If that is alright with your parents.” He knew they wouldn’t say no. They couldn’t.

Your father sighed, having weighed his options. Although Loki wasn’t the perfect individual for you, he would have to work now that Thor was off the table. Plus, you were right, he was still a prince. Second in line to the throne, which wasn’t completely undesirable. “Of course, your highness, we approve. Isabelle, how about you fetch some tea for our guest?” 

Isabelle rushed off to get some tea, and your parents left you alone. Loki slowly walked up to you, looking you in the eyes. It took every ounce of self control that you had to not immediately run into his arms and kiss him. “My love.” 

“My prince.” You breathed, and he took your hand and kissed it. You dropped your self control, removed your hand from his lips, and smashed your lips onto his.

TAGS: (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream @iceeericeee

[caffiend-queen]

Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter One: An Unmitigated Disaster Awaits

In which Loki and Mina once again find themselves in the middle of a colossal Avengers holiday fuckup. And who knew the Fey Folk were such assholes?

If there was blame to be assigned for the night that destroyed any charm and mystery left in St. Patrick’s Day, it should really go to The Paddy O’Hoolihan’s, an Irish folk band with a painfully cheesy name. But their music- it was frenzied and delightful, which was why Mina, Wanda, Jane, Pepper, Darcy, and even Natasha were swirling madly in some sort of a jig between each other like a flutter of butterflies, colorful spring dresses flaring out in a pleasing way that exposed a toned thigh or two. They were so fascinating to watch that the rest of the Avengers agreed right then that a Night Out On The Town would be necessary in the hopes of seeing more of this.

“A flutter of butterflies?” Tony blustered. “That can’t be right.”

Loki was seated elegantly on a comfortable chair in the middle of Central Park while most of the other male Avengers were seated in the grass, soaking the seat of their jeans. “A flutter,” he confirmed, watching closely as Mina sent him a saucy little wink. “Known also as a kaleidoscope or a swarm.”

“Swarm isn’t the right word,” mused Steve, still brushing at the green streaks on his pressed chinos. “That sounds like bugs. The girls are definitely butterflies.”

“Butterflies are bugs,” grunted Bucky, eyes closed and soaking in the weak spring sunlight.

“You romantic bastard,” chortled Sam, who was watching Thor capering with the women and getting the dance steps wrong. “I’m gonna go save those ladies from his bigass feet.” 

“That slick son of a bitch,” Tony observed morosely, watching Sam gracefully sweep Pepper under one arm and Natasha with the other.

It was a rare day, a blissful day where nothing was exploding, no one was invading anyone else’s borders, no one was getting kidnapped, and even HYDRA appeared to be taking a long afternoon nap. The Avengers were all lazing in Central Park on an almost unnaturally warm day for March 17th and enjoying a holiday where they were, for once, not urgently needed. Anywhere.

“To St. Patrick’s Day!” toasted Bucky, raising his bottle of Guinness to clink with Steve’s. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Tony pulled another bottle from the specialty vibranium cooler that floated next to him, its propulsion jets hissing softly. “Watch the parade from Stark Tower, say a prayer at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and hit The Dead Rabbit Grocery & Grog. The Dropkick Murphy’s are headlining.”

Loki sniffed, still watching keenly as Mina took the hands of an elderly gentleman so wizened and stooped that he could legally be classified as a leprechaun. “My lady and I will be spending the evening safely at the Tower. I do not understand this keen desire for holiday-based mayhem and disaster, but I assure you we shall not participate.”

“Brother!” Thor’s voice was unfortunately right next to Loki’s ear, and God or no, the roar from the oaf seared through his ear canal and scrambled his ganglia. “You must bring the Lady Mina, she will be terribly disappointed! Darcy has been telling her of the majesty of the Celtic celebrations here. She must pay homage to her ancestors.”

Loki frowned. Mina had Irish blood? He would rather crush his own skull with Thor’s hammer than admit that his brother knew something about his Mina that he did not, so he settled for a haughty sniff. “Why must I be the sole sentinel during every holiday on this benighted excuse for a realm to remind you all that it will always, always invariably result in death and destruction? That there will be some unnatural force that will target the Avengers and endanger all those we love? Why must I be the-”

“Hey, did you hear that?” Tony interrupted happily, “Loki looooves Mina!”

And then the tiresome chorus rose from this pack of imbeciles. Loki rolled his eyes, wondering if he sent a hailstorm of toads down upon this crowd if it would immediately be traced back to him. But then his Mina returned and sat down in his lap. Kissing him on the tip of his aquiline nose, she sighed, “And Mina loves Loki, so all of you hush.”

“Darling, are you indeed of Irish descent?”

Mina looked up from the 3D chemical strain she was modeling for one of Jane’s experiments. “Yes, and Scottish. How did this come up?”

Loki sniffed haughtily. “My oaf of a brother attempted to claim that I must indulge you in a night of drunken excess with the rest of the team as some sort of homage to your heritage. Is this night one that must be dedicated to your ancestors? Is it a sacred rite?”

Giving a very unladylike snort, Mina said, “Nothing sacred about gulping down too much green beer and singing Irish folk songs. But…” Loki groaned internally. His sweet girl had a look of longing as she continued. “But it’s always such a fun night! I get to dance and sing, and the saying is that ‘On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish.’” She smiled up at him sweetly. “Even you, Loki.”

Lip curled, he snarled, “Do not assign me a heritage from this insignificant rock!” Traditionally, this sort of elegant sneer would quail Mina, but this time, she gave him a sneer of her own. 

“Oh, you do not disrespect my people, Loki!” She quailed slightly before seeing his curled lip stretch into a smile. 

“My, my. Look at my fierce little banshee! I would not think of it.” Mina gave him the sort of shameless, hopeful grin that crumbled the God of Lies and Mischief’s will more often than he’d care to admit. 

Sliding her hands over his broad shoulders, admiring the hard muscle beneath, she asked, “Does that mean you might be willing to join the group tonight at the Dead Rabbit?”

His elegant head pulled back from hers, “What a truly bizarre name. Does the proprietor wish to drive people away from his tavern?”

Mina cackled a bit. “We Irish are tough. We like it rough and difficult.” She instantly realized her mistake as Loki’s pupils flared.

“Really…” he purred, his deep tone more like a rumble against her spine. “You like it, ‘rough,’ do you, darling?”

It was a desperate scramble to get away from her God’s ruthless grasp, but Mina found herself pulling on her old plaid kilt and cream Irish fisherman’s sweater after a promise to show Loki later the bit of “rough” that a good girl from the Emerald Isle could handle. “My lovely Mina,” he approved, stepping behind her in the dressing room mirror to straighten his cuffs. She’d just pulled on some warm black tights and her knee-high riding boots. “You have a very delectable ‘upper-crust schoolgirl’ sort of look here. I find myself quite interested in knowing what good Irish schoolgirls wear under their kilts.”

“Well, I imagine a big, strong man like you can find out for yourself,” Mina answered primly, then leaped over the bench with a yelp when Loki made a sudden move at her. Chuckling, he straightened his tie and strolled sedately after her.

It was, of course, vile. Loki sighed in a long-suffering way as he surveyed the crowded bar, one hand securely on Mina’s back. “The sun barely set and here are your countrymen, already intoxicated,” he said, leaning in close so she could hear him over the drunken chorus of “Whiskey You’re the Devil.”

“Oh, look!” Mina shouted back, “There they are! In the Snug.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki raised a brow.

“The Snug,” Mina was the one carving a path through the partygoers, heading for their friends. “There’s one in every proper Irish bar.  It’s the room right off of the bar where the ladies used to go to have a pint or a sherry and not have to worry about being considered loose. Now the bars just rent them out as a VIP space.”

In his usual fashion, Tony had not only bought out the Snug, which had an excellent view of the rest of the pub, but he also had the management re-create the magnificent, shining walnut bar that ran nearly the length of the main room into a private version for the Avengers. When they drew closer, they found Thor in a handstand with one end of a tube in his mouth and the other in a cask of aged whiskey. 

Sam, Clint, Darcy, and the usually shy Bucky were circling the spectacle, shouting “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Thor finished the cask and flipped upright with a flourish, raising his huge arms and roaring in triumph.

“What are you wearing?” Loki frowned, all the men were sporting hideous green plaid patterned neckties, and the more drunken amongst them - namely Clint and Tony - had little green bowler hats perched atop their messy hair.

“It was Tony’s idea, where’s your tie?” asked Bruce, who looked distinctly put out that he’d been forced to wear this itchy novelty neckwear while Loki looked as smooth and perfectly put together as always in an onyx Tom Ford suit.

Loki sniffed, “Ideally, at the bottom of the Hudson River.”

Tony stumbled up behind Loki and Mina, sunglasses askew as he looped an arm around each of them. “Your brother knows how to party, Severus Snape! Let’s tap another cask for you!”

“It is a crime to treat a good whiskey so,” admonished Loki, “and Thor must consume twenty or so of those casks for him to find something even approaching intoxication.” Nonetheless, he found himself relaxing and even amused as his Mina dragged Natasha up on to the bar for a round of Irish Ceili dancing, the Russian gracefully moving along as if she’d performed Irish jigs all her life.

“Man, is there anything Natasha can’t do perfectly?” groused Darcy, watching the footwork until it made her dizzy.

Bucky put his arm around her. “She can’t make that cute little noise you make when I…” She dissolved into a round of giggles and Loki rolled his eyes, looking around the pub. There was a thicket of drunk college students, singing along off-key with the Dropkick Murphys, who’d moved on to “Rose Tattoo.” The main bar was claimed by the regulars, who held court and toasted something new at least every sixty seconds, based on the cheers and clinking of glasses. Small islands of tourists floated through the crowd, gripping a beer mug in one hand and a souvenir Dead Rabbit t-shirt in the other. Irish flags were draped in every corner and the light glowed off the massive selection of alcohol behind the bar, bathing everything in a pleasingly golden glow. And… Loki raised one elegant brow. There was a small group of… small people?

“Little people,” Steve said, leaning in. “The correct phrase is little people.”

“Descendants of a visit long past from a group of lustful and irresponsible Nidavellir,” mused Loki, “the dwarves always eager to spread their seed.”

Steve looked alarmed, “I don’t think you want to be floating that theory, Loki. Especially not here, and not tonight.”

Before the God of Mischief could further discuss Nidavellir sex tourism, he heard a loud “Hellooo, Monty!” from his sweet girl, still tip-tapping away atop the bar.

One of the men broke away from the group and waved eagerly. “Éire go Brách, Mina!” 

Leaping rather gracefully from the bar, she took his small hand, greeting him warmly. “Éire go Brách, Monty! I’m so glad you came.”

The gentlemen had a face like a withered crabapple, all wrinkles and slightly sunken, but when he glanced at Loki, there was a spark of… something in his eye. One trickster always knew another, and he recognized the elderly gentleman she’d favored with a dance that afternoon at the park. “Well, when you promised me another dance, my dear, how could I not?” Monty turned to Loki and bent his head in a courtly gesture, “If your date for the evening has no objection, of course.”

Oddly, Loki did have an objection. The gleam in the small man’s eye was growing brighter, and his own emerald ones narrowed. “And what brings you to New York, Monty? Your accent has all the slurs and ellipses of a Dubliner, born and bred.”

Mina’s new friend threw back his head and laughed grandly, “Ach, you’ve caught me. I am, indeed. But I find that here in America, the Irish celebrate this day with greater enthusiasm.”

Just then the Dropkick Murphys launched into “The Boys are Back” and Mina squealed. “Monty! This is my song, let’s go!” And with a final smirk at Loki, her diminutive beau allowed her to pull him into the crowd. 

He stared after them disapprovingly. The Dead Rabbit was even louder - if possible - than it had been when they arrived and the discordant screech of electric guitar and the accompaniment of the Uilleann pipes rose over the crowd.

The boys are back

The boys are back

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

Standing on the highway, ???

I'm missing my home, and it's killing me

Down the ramp past the jail, I'm feeling alright

Bought roses for my ladies from a corner delight

It's time to get ready for that song and dance

Let's go my friends, it's time to take a chance

We're back in town, we're gonna get it done

We got nowhere to hide, we got nowhere to run

It's been a long time coming,

It's been a long time coming,

The boys are back

The boys are back

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

And in the blink of an eye, Mina and her questionable dance partner were swallowed up into the crowd. “Did he not seem unnatural to you?” Loki asked Tony, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder and wrinkling the perfect cut of his jacket.

Tony stumbled back, “Woah, Lokes, prejudiced much? What’s next, snide comments about the little people always being after your Lucky Charms?” He said the last in a deplorably bad Irish accent, and Loki’s brow furrowed. Tony (partially sober) was just barely endurable. Completely intoxicated Tony was a punishment that could make the strongest Asgardian choose Odin’s dungeons over Stark Tower.

Bucky gently elbowed Tony into a seat, where his head tipped back and a gentle snore rose from his slack mouth. “Ignore him, Loki. What’s the problem?”

“Most pressing,” he said, “is that my dear Mina seems to have disappeared into this drunken throng with a most untrustworthy creature.”

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky agreed, but he refused to take offense, still searching the crowd. Looking around, he frowned. “And where’s Darcy and Jane? And Pepper? And Natasha?” By now the others were closing in. Thor shouldered his way into the knot of drunken, flailing New Yorkers and Clint hopped up on the table.

Pale hands shooting out, Loki sent a silver stream of energy that coiled and ripped around the pub, curling and snaking along, but there was no sign of the women. “By the NORNIR!” he shouted. “Why? Why must it always be the holidays? You Avengers are a curse, I swear it!”

“Huh?” Tony woke up, standing and rubbing his face. “What?”

Loki turned on him. “You will never heed my warning, will you? All our women- they are gone. Gone!”

“Aw, damn,” sighed Steve, "AGAIN?"

Chapter Two is up tomorrow. You know, the one with all the smut.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

@myoxisbroken

@gigglingtiggerv2

@notpedeka

@narnianarcher

@sylviefromneptune

@winterslove1917

@kimanne723

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@stevihj

@lizette50

@jevans2

@wolfsmom1

@devikafernando

@wegingerangelica

@nildespirandum

@alexakeyloveloki

@thebatshitcrazyfangirl

@thehumming6ird

@archy3001

@iheartsebastianstan

@tomstinkerbell

@wolfpawn

@rayofdawnworld

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

@dangertoozmanykids101

@alexakeyloveloki

@nuggsmum

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@inkededucatednnerdy

@nonsensicalobsessions

@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hey, something occurred to me, I once read it on Tumblr but never found it again.

A reader Joan of Arc, who in life fought in the name of God and in the end was burned at the stake, her God did not save her from her tragic death and when she died he did not receive her, even when she was able to talk to him;

Told him: - "Many die in my name, you are not the first and you will not be the last"

That disappointed her and disappointed her faith, so when Brunhilda asks her to fight in Ragnarok she agrees, even merging with her since they are both faithful to their ideals and beliefs, as well as fiercely protective.

In the end she wins the battle and maybe Ragnarok (I think they are saving Brunhilda for last) she wants them to bring all those who died, at the end when everyone celebrates she looks at her God and says:

- "Many died for you, but we will be the last to do it"

Perhaps these gods and humans will be impressed by her bravery and fighting skills, and also by her beauty;

Gods: Possessed, Hades, Thor, Odin, Loki and Heracles

Humans: Lu Bu, Sasaki, Jack and Nikola (Maybe Adam as a platonic father as an extra)

I hope you like the application!

-His words, even years later, still echoed in your mind, “You’re not the first to die for me, nor will you be the last.” It let a bitter taste in your mouth and anger in your heart.

-You begged God to save you when you were being burned at the stake after doing his work, helping France, saving innocents, showing bravery even in the face of death.

-When you died, you were stunned to have not been received by his grace, instead you were surrounded by a group of women, warriors like yourself, Valkyries.

-You felt betrayed by God, as he had not been there, but you were welcomed warmly to Valhalla, many who knew of you became good friends and allies, as they were taken with your bravery and gentle heart.

-When you finally found God, and you asked him why he didn’t save you, why wasn’t he the one to receive you, he told you those bitter words that burned into your very soul.

-Your faith was shattered, until you found solstice with the Valkyries, training with them, and helping others, you were quite popular with the children in Valhalla.

-Ragnarok was something you never thought you would be asked to fight in, but here you were, holding a shield and sword, Brunnhilde by your side, giving you a firm nod as the two of you were partnered in the final fight, everything riding on this one battle.

-She fused and became your armor, forming a winged helmet around your head and a full chest plate and gauntlets down your arms.

-You had never felt such determination and Brunnhilde had never felt such unwavering focus, the two of you were definitely the best match for each as you walked out to the roar of cheers.

-Only Brunnhilde knew you were nervous, as you weren’t showing a lick of it, your eyes focused on your opponent who was, in all honesty, a bit unnerved, seeing that you weren’t scared.

-The battle raged on for what felt like hours, you and your opponent both had traded injuries, tuning the crowd out as both sides were cheering for your respective sides to win.

-When you stood over your opponent in victory, he was not prepared to see you crying, tears flowing down your cheeks as regret filled your body. You didn’t want to kill him, but you had to, for humanity.

-As the winner, you were granted one wish, anything you wanted and without hesitation you spoke, “All of the fighters who perished in this tournament, humans, valkyries, and gods, I wish for them to be returned to life.”

-The stadium was so silent, you could hear heartbeats in those in the stands, jaws were dropped, as your wish seemed to echo throughout the arena.

-Zeus couldn’t help but smile softly, bowing his head to you, “Perhaps we judged humanity too harshly. As your creators, we gods should have done better to guide you all, to help you all more. We shall start that now.”

-With a snap of his fingers, figures reformed all around you, humans, gods, valkyries, Chen Gong, Red Hair, and Lu Bu’s army all reformed as well.

-The cheers were deafening, they were so loud you almost couldn’t hear them as you watched reunions, Zeus hugging his son and brothers, Jack and Hlokk hugging Hercules, the Valkyrie sisters all being reunited.

-You looked around the stadium and saw your God, the one who abandoned you and you didn’t realize the crowd had hushed, realizing you, their hero, was going to speak, “I- no- we may have died for you, but we will be the last.”

-God was stunned by your words, by the fire in your eyes, your anger, you believed in him, and he had turned his back on you.

-You turned and smiled as Goll nearly ran you down, leaping into you arms, hugging you tightly and you finally broke, crying while smile, celebrating your win, humanity’s salvation.

-Poseidon- Had more respect for humanity, shaking Kojiro’s hand, acknowledging him as a strong fighter, and while not all humans were good, he knew that there were many good ones as well. He learned you were the one to bring him back, alongside the other warriors, you could have just wished for humanity’s champions to come back, but no, you wished for all of them to be brought back. He had never met a human, let alone a woman, like you before, you were selfless, but you were also determined and very beautiful. You were quick to catch his eye as you greeted him politely when he came over, offering you a hand and in thanks and he couldn’t help but grin as your face turned bright red as he lifted your hand to his lips, pecking the back of it gently. You were just getting more and more interesting to the Sea God.

-Hades- After getting unburied from his four brothers, the hug led by Zeus, Hades took a long moment, realizing that he almost lost everything, had it not been for you. Zeus told them all that as gods, they would all be taking responsibility now and guiding humans, rather than what they had been doing, something Hades admired, seeing the growth in his youngest brother. That’s when he saw you, getting out of your own cuddle pile of the valkyries and Hades was quick to approach you. He had heard your declaration to your god, and he remembered you, how you pleaded to your god for help, only to be abandoned. Hades thanked you for bringing him back and despite being the winner, you were still so respectful, giving him a small smile, he knew he was going to see you again.

-Thor- He wasn’t one for physical affection but when he saw Lu Bu, the two friends ran to each other and hugged, laughing warmly as they knew they would get to fight again! The valkyries and Chen Gong, even Red Hair, were all rolling their eyes as the two warriors celebrated. Thor found you moments later, hugging Goll tightly as you spun around and he couldn’t help but smile, seeing you so happy to see everyone else so happy. He had never met a person like you before and he was quick to approach, wanting to thank you. Goll hid behind you, a bit nervous but was gawking in stunned awe that Thor was smiling down at you, as he thanked you for giving him back his friend. Your warm smile seemed to make his throat clench, he had never felt such a feeling with a woman before, but Thor decided that he liked it, he wanted to feel it more.

-Odin- You were his opponent, you beat him, and you brought not only him, but everyone else back as well, gods and humans, showing your selflessness. Odin had never met a human like you before, he remembered your tears as he was fading away, you regretted having to kill him. He had been dead for the shortest, only minutes, but still, it was enough for him, but to be given this second chance, he felt a strange feeling in his chest, he wasn’t sure if it was admiration or appreciation. Odin approached you, seeing that you were still injured, and he waved his hand over you, and you felt your wounds healing, surprising you before he smiled softly down at you, “Thank you Y/N, for everything.” You thanked him for healing your wounds and for his kind words and he gave you another smile, wanting to see you again after this, but for now, he was going to enjoy the moment of his second chance.

-Loki- Was overwhelmed with joy, seeing his friends brought back to life, celebrating as he hugged Hercules, who laughed warmly, embracing the smaller god, the two laughing warmly. When Loki saw you, he paused, a strange feeling in his chest, seeing you smiling as Adam ruffled your hair gently, you had just gotten your ass kicked and despite winning, you chose to bring everyone back to life. Loki frowned softly, knowing he probably wouldn’t have done the same; to see you, a human maiden, do it, he had to admire you. Loki shook your hand, thanking you, which did surprise you, but you smiled gently up at him, making him feel happy before he quickly pecked your cheek, dodging a punch from Brunnhilde as you cupped your cheeks, flushing bright red. You were just getting cuter and cuter.

-Hercules- Was plowed down by Jack, Hlokk, and the other valkyries, making him laugh as they were all crying, so glad that he was alive again. You smiled gently as Hercules stood, grinning brightly at the others before he turned to see you, “You’re Y/N, right? Thank you so much for bringing us back to life! I’m so happy that you won and saved humanity!” his hug surprised you, but you had never felt a warmer hug in your life, it was gentle but firm at the same time and you couldn’t help but smile and hug him back as he spun around. He then realized you were still injured and quickly swept you into his arms princess style, which made you flush and he took you to the infirmary, ignoring your bright red face until he sat you down, thinking you were adorable.

-Lu Bu- He wasn’t one for physical affection but when he saw Thor, the two friends ran to each other and hugged, laughing warmly as they knew they would get to fight again! The valkyries and Chen Gong, even Red Hair, were all rolling their eyes as the two warriors celebrated. Chen Gong was the one to find you first, saluting you and bowing deeply in gratitude, which made you smile as the two of you shook hands. When Lu Bu came over, you greeted him warmly as well before Red Hair nudged you from the back, shocking the two men as Red Hair didn’t let anyone touch him other than Lu Bu and you smiled as they both thanked you as well, in their own ways. Your determination made Lu Bu want to get to know you more, wanting to test you in combat, his own way of bonding, but for now, he was content, getting this second chance.

-Kojiro- He had fallen back, seeing you win your match, while sitting in his waiting room, a sense of relief filling him as he knew humanity had won. He was rushing to the arena, so he didn’t hear your wish, but when he arrived, seeing those who had perished, being brought back to life, his jaw dropped and rushed down, celebrating your win with his friends, both who had won and lost their fights. When Kojiro saw you he couldn’t help but laugh, coming over and picking you up by your hips spinning you around, which did surprise you, but his bright grin made you return his smile as he pulled you down into his arms, hugging tightly, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N! You’ve saved us all!” you smiled up at him as he squeezed you, his eyes sparkling brightly in happiness.

-Jack- Seeing Hercules there, Jack felt like a child, for a moment, running towards him, Hlokk right next to him and the two leapt at Hercules who was stunned to be alive again, as he knew he had lost, before catching the two at the last moment, going to the ground hard as they both hugged him. Hercules could tell they had been through a lot and couldn’t help but cuddle them both, glad to be alive. As everyone was thanking you, Jack approached and took your hand, pecking the back of it, some were annoyed, as you were their savior and he was a serial killer, but you didn’t feel afraid of this man as he pecked the back of your hand, thanking you for returning his dear friend. You smiled warmly, telling him you were happy to do so and your colors were so pure, so blinding, Jack had never seen such colors before, you were beautiful, inside and out.

-Nikola- He had been plowed down by his brother and dear friends, all of them ugly crying, so happy that he was alive again before Beelzebub was quick to join, in tears as well. Nikola was laughing warmly, hugging each of them, but felt a sense of relief fill him, he was alive, which meant that humanity had won. When his brother pointed you out, being hugged by Kojiro, Nikola was stunned, you were a young lady, one who shouldn’t be fighting, but there you were, wounded but smiling warmly, seeing all the reunions. He must have been staring because when you looked over at him, you looked away, blushing cutely which made him start before he came over, introducing himself to you, shaking your hand in thanks. You couldn’t help but smile up at him and in a rare moment of impulsivity, Nikola asked you out on a date, which made his brother and friends gawk in stunned awe while you blushed bright red, not hearing the cheers around you.

-Adam- After getting his sons off of him as they had plowed him down, he held Eve tightly as she sobbed into his arms, so happy to have him back. He saw all of the other reunions; the other humans and gods being returned back to life. Zeus stunned him by offering a hand of friendship and partnership, telling him of the god’s new plans to do what they should have done from the beginning. Adam accepted this and turned when Eve spoke, “Oh there’s Y/N, she’s the one who won and brought you all back.” Adam turned, seeing you, a young maiden and he felt anger in his belly, angry that you had been forced to fight, but without you, they might not be there. Adam came over and you, knowing him, bowed your head, greeting him before he stunned you, hugging you tightly, “You never have to worry again, my daughter.” His words meant more to you than he realized as you relaxed into his embrace, smiling softly as you finally relaxed.

[plussizefantasia]

The Black Queen

Summary: An evening at Prince Thor's naming day ball, leaves you with a conflicted head, and heart.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Wordcount: 1k

A/N: This is for @salenorona23 who left me a request. I'm thinking of doing a part 2 but only if people would read it, so let me know in the comments.

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Your very being exudes power. You are a queen. You command armies. You rule an entire realm. This is apparently intimidating to some men; the type of men who demand respect without doing anything to earn it. The ones who want a woman to live in their shadows, the ones who want a maid, not a life partner. 

However you needed a consort, the laws of your realm were very clear and very hard to change, you had tried. So for the past several years of your life, you had been searching, not necessarily for love, you weren’t foolish enough to believe that love was something you’d ever have but you at least wanted someone you didn’t hate. Lords from all over the nine realms had come to attempt to win over your favor. The issue you faced was weeding out the ones who saw you as nothing more than a stepping stone to their own throne. 

Like this idiot. 

“So what other things do you do? Needlepoint? Knitting perhaps,” the snide man whose name you never bothered to learn asks. You were growing increasingly more frustrated the more this man talked to you. You were in attendance for a ball being thrown on Asgard, Prince Thor’s naming day ball as well as a celebration of the Warriors Three’s latest victory. You were dressed in finery, a silken gown in a deep blue color cascading down your body. The dress had sheer scooping sleeves which rested parallel to your collarbones. Running up your forearms were matching arm braces, they were metal and looked entirely decorative depicting the image of shooting starts intertwined with one another, but could be used to deflect a blade if need be. Speaking of blades you had several hidden on your body, and were growing ever more tempted to use one on the insufferable man next to you.

“I think it’s just wonderful that women have found things to do to occupy their time, one must get so bored waiting at home all the time.”

“I’m afraid My Lord, that I do not often have the pleasure of indulging myself in hobbies, I am much too busy ruling my kingdom. But I should hope that whoever I shall marry will have their own ways to occupy their time. When they wait for me at home as you put it.”

Alas, your blades were not needed this time as the man sputtered and excused himself when your words reached him.

“Who needs blades when you have barbs that sharp” a voice called from behind you.

“I take pride in my ability to handle fools, as I’m sure you do as well.” You turned your torso slightly to be able to get a better look at the raven-haired man to your left. “They call you silver-tongued do they not, Prince Loki?”

The Prince raised his eyebrow in your direction wetting his lip with his tongue. “It is one of my titles, yes.” He smirked in a roguish way while making his way towards you. In one hand he held a goblet, full of what you can only assume to be wine. “I seem to recall they call you the Black Queen if I’m not mistaken.” His tone was sultry in a way that sent shivers up your spine.

“I have not heard that name in years, it's a shame, I was quite fond of it.” In a brazen move that you might scold yourself for later, you grab the goblet out of his hand and take a sip. Mead. the sweetness hits your tongue and causes a smile to involuntarily spread across your face. 

“It is lovely to meet someone interesting at one of these things, usually I turn to making mischief to entertain myself.” The raven-haired prince said.

“Well, I’m happy to amuse you, your highness” You responded. “Although I suppose I should be spending my time trying to find a suitor, as was my intention when I arrived.”

He raised an eyebrow at this, “A suitor? But don’t you already have a throne?” He questioned, genuine curiosity bleeding through his words.

“That I do, but the laws of my kingdom are clear, I must find a consort and soon if I were to remain in power.” It wasn’t like you to divulge this much information, especially to someone you had just met. But something about the Prince made him easy to talk to, which was dangerous in more ways than one.

“And who, may I ask, will take the throne if this fails to happen.” He tilted his head to the side and his eyes bore into your own. The green pools full of something mysterious, something alluring, something disastrous. 

“I am my father’s only heir. If I were to be forced to forfeit the throne, the custom in my kingdom is a tournament. The lords will fight amongst themselves with the weapon of my choosing until one is victorius, he will be named king. And as much as I would love to witness the lords fighting to the death, I would much rather keep my crown.” You explained.

“My brother, the blonde oaf fumbling about the other side of the ballroom, is also looking for a suitor. It might be worth pursuing, you both are heirs to your own thrones and while he may be dull, you’ll not find a better option. Besides, he’s not looking for love, only a match that will stop Father from pestering him. I’d imagine you’re somewhat the same in that regard.” Loki’s words caused you to pause. Never in a millenia would you have throught that he would offer Thor instead of himself. From what you’ve heard he was very self-serving. You heard of his play to take the crown and while his attempt had failed you would’ve thought he’d vye for yours once he knew it was possible.

“You seem a strong ruler, I’d hate for you to lose your crown becuase of a foolish law.” He took his goblet out of your hand and began to turn away. You let him

Your mind was muddled, and you had no idea what to think. You could not deny the attractiveness of the younger prince, he was witty and cunning and very very handsome. It also seemed that he respected you, thought of you as a good leader and wished the best for you. In a few short moments he had contradicted everything you had evr heard of him. You were left with one thought reigning over all the others in your mind.

Thor was not the prince you wanted.

[jiliansky-blog]

Wake me up. Chapter 1. Two gods

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1340

From the labyrinth, You came to the beautiful golden palace. There were no guards, no anybody else. No, this man in black. Lord Morpheus. Who was he? A god of dreams? What did he want from me? But he couldn’t find you here. As you hope.

The time in the labyrinth was fun. you remember how you woke up in the dark valley and found your way through the labyrinth until you found Jared. And he invited you to his castle. He was surprised to see you there. He was even wanted to make you his queen. You didn’t think though that you was ready for this.

And then that Morpheus appeared. He was handsome. Tall, thin, with black messy hair, white skin and dark eyes. The eyes that were shining like stars. You shouldn’t think about him. Perhaps, you didn’t see him again. So you continue your path.

“There you are," and suddenly another man approached you. “I was looking for you. Where have you been?

“Visiting a friend," you said. “What? Did you miss me already?”

“I don’t want you to get attacked by frost giants or someone else," he replied. “You know, since you returned to this place”.

Oh, you know, you always want to visit Asgard. And you were upset when it was destroyed by Ragnarok. And you wanted to meet Loki.

“Let’s go”, you said. “Or are we going to talk in the corridor?”

“You looked worried, Y\N”, he said, lifting my head up with a hand. “What did you do, while I was busy? What are you afraid of?”

"Nothing," you smiled. “I just don’t want when someone looks at us. Shall we go, or should I go alone?”

And you drugged him into the room. You hope Morpheus won’t follow you there. You wanted to stay in your room, but Loki has other plans.

“Will you go with me to the banquet?” he asked. "Otherwise, I don’t think I can handle Thor’s arrogance and stupidity”.

“Are you sure, you want me there?” you asked.

“You are the only thing that can make everything better”, he said sweetly.

“Oh, when did you become so sweet?” you giggled. “Alright”.

You said that you needed to change the dress. You hoped that if Morpheus came here, he wouldn’t recognize you in a crowd. Maybe you should dress in something less rich. Or maybe you should dress as a servant? But Loki won’t understand that.

But when you chose a modest dress, Loki returned to your room and looked at you confused.

“Sweetheart, you have better dresses than that”, he said with a charming smiled. “You are going to stand next to me, and you should look like a princess”.

“I don’t want to be in canter of attention”, you smiled.

“That won’t do”, he opened your closet and picked a golden, beautiful dress. “Can you dress this for me?”

“I don’t want to outshine your mother”, you said.

“She won’t be agreeable,", he reassured you.

So you sighed and dressed it. And then some girls came to make your hair. In the last month, you have made quite a home in this world. You don’t want some other god to take it.

“Are you ready?” he asked, taking your hand.

"Yes," you let him take to the feast.

You tried to hide your anxiety when you were at the celebration. You thought that Morpheus wouldn't just leave you. He came to the Labyrinth for you. And then you saw something black among the Asgardians. Was it him, or did you become paranoid?

“What is wrong with you?” Loki hissed. “You look like you saw the frost giant”.

“I don’t feel well”, you said. “I want to go back to my room. Please? And can you stay with me tonight? You don’t really want to be here, I know”.

He sighed as he was doing you a favor and took you to the door. But at least he listened to you. He is not as bad as everyone thinks.  

“Y\N”, you heard a familiar voice as soon as you left the room. “We need to talk”.

“Who is this?” Loki frowned. “The intruder”.

“Leave us alone, Loki, the god of mischief”, said Morpheus calmly. “This is none of your business”.

“Oh no, you won’t tell me what to do in my palace”, Loki smiled. He was annoyed. “And what business do you have for my lady?”

“Your lady," at the moment you were swearing, Morpheus’s eyes shone like stars. “She is not even from your world”.

“I know, she is from Midgard," he said. “And who are you, intruder?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless," he said. “And she is going with me. She shouldn’t be here”.

“Oh, so you are the god of dreams," Loki said. "Anyway, it doesn’t give you the right to come to my castle without invitation”.

“Your castle isn’t even real," he said as he looked at me again. “You need to get over this. Your dreams can damage my entire world”.

“I don't know what you are talking about," you said.

“You know”, Morpheus replied. “You made this place. And Labyrinth. You need to wake up. Humans aren’t supposed to stay here”.

“That’s quite enough”, Loki laughed. And his laugh was tensed. “You need to get through me if you want to get her”.

But Morpheus just raises his hand, and Loki starts to dissolve. You don’t know what to do. And at that moment you heard the noise. You heard screams, and doors opened. Asgardians started to flood out of the corridors. You took your chance to run. You heard steps behind you and hoped that it was Loki, not Morpheus.

“What is going on, Y\N?” he asked, and you recognized Loki’s voice. “How do you know that strange man?”

“He founds me when I was walking before the feast”, you said. “I don't know what it means, but he wants to return me to Midgard”.

“Why?” he asked. “And what he wanted to do with me”.

“I don’t know, okay?” you replied. “My guess as good as yours. He thinks that I can destroy something”.

“He said something about his world”, he said.

“Believe me, I don’t know what he was talking about”, you said again. “And what the mess started there?”

“A little joke”, he smirked.

“I need to go”, you sighed. “Before he came for you again. See you later”.

“Wait!” Loki called you, but you didn’t listen.

You opened another door and went to other world.

Morpheus

I sighed annoyed. This human girl doesn’t know what she is toying with. And how she even does it? How she creates worlds in the Dreaming and walking through them? Even if her dreams are lucid, it shouldn’t be this way? Is she another vortex? She thinks that her dreams are real. So maybe she doesn’t aware that she is dreaming.

Now I need to follow her through the dream of Asgard. She can’t escape forever. I will find her eventually. At that moment Matthew joined me.

“How is it going, boss?” he asked.

“She is trying to avoid me”, I replied. “I can’t understand how she so quickly creates words in the Dreaming”.

“Perhaps, she did before your return”, he said. “I mean, we don’t know for how long she was here. She could make all kind of loopholes”.

“That’s…a good point of view”, I said thoughtfully. “I need to think about it. And perhaps to look into her other places to hide”.

“Don’t be harsh with her, boss”, the raven replied. “I’m sure, she is hiding here not from the good life”.  

“So you think she is hiding”, I said.

“I’m not an expert”, Matthew admitted. “But if she was here for a long time, maybe something happened to her. And she doesn’t want to remember about it”.

“That a good thought too”, I said. “It wasn’t a nightmare. Her hiding is deeper than I thought. I need to find her book. Thank you, Matthew”.

“You’re welcome, boss”, he said gladly. And I decided that I need to learn more about this girl and her fears before face her again

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[mcufan72]

Cold winter days, a lonely woman on a bench, a stranger in the park...

An Encounter in Winter ❄️

Loki and female reader

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

18+/adult themes/talking/flirting/slow burn/fluff/angst/smut (eventually)

Warnings: none but lots of flirting, some lusting for each other and getting more physical, Thor being a nice big brother and some angst in the end

Sitting in the lovely café in the afternoons became a part of your daily meetings, too. One week later, as you and Loki had planned, you visited the art gallery. There were not many people visiting the exhibition today but it was a nice location with interesting and impressive pieces of art.

When you two stood in front of another impressive art object you felt Loki looking intensely at you again.

Most of the time Loki's attention was dedicated to you. His gazes lingered more on you than on the pictures and art objects. You felt him looking at you all the time but you didn't find it unpleasant. Truth be told, you loved it. It was balm to your soul…and you liked that he was so distracted by you. It was cute and he was adorable.

"Something else caught your attention, Mr.Laufeyson?" You teased him, mischievously grinning and still staring at the object.

"Oh..ahhmm..no..yes, I'm..ahhm sorry, I didn't want to stare but you…you are …a piece of art too…a very beautiful one." he stammered and complimented you with reddening cheeks.

His pathetic tries to flirt with you were awkward. He wasn't good at it. Seducing a woman was much easier for him.

You laughed lightly and faced him. You found it quite adorable how he tried to flirt with you.

"I'm absolutely not, Mr.Laufeyson but thank you for that wonderful compliment. Shall we see the next room?"

"Yes, let us go to the next room..and you are beautiful, Lady y/n."

"Stop that, otherwise I'm starting to believe it!" you whispered smiling at him and you hooked your arm with his and went together to the next room.

After visiting the art gallery you two went straight to the café. You were the only guests today and Loki wondered why.

"It's December 24th, the people are busy with Christmas preparations and getting everything ready for Christmas Day tomorrow," you explained to him.

"Oh, okay. I'm just wondering because I'm not very familiar with midga–...with some traditions."

"You don't celebrate Christmas with your family?"

"No…not really and I'm not really into it to celebrate such things. My brother and his friends do. But I wasn't aware that's a general thing here."

"Yes, I get that. I loved Christmas when I was a child. And when I lived in Norway I loved celebrating Christmas together with my then-fiancé and our lovely neighbours. I loved the Norwegian traditions and customs. Especially the tradition on 'Jul Aften' when brooms and mops were hidden to prevent the night trips of the crazy ghosts and evil witches who wreak havoc on Christmas night."

"That sounds awesome and funny, I love me some mischief and havoc-wreaking too," Loki said.

"Yessss, it can be really fun sometimes," and you laughed.

"Are you familiar with such traditions and customs Mr.Laufeyson?"

"I am…no…not really." He tried hard to avoid sounding suspicious.

"I also heard something about Norse mythology when I lived in Norway but didn't delve deeper into the details. I have always been too busy with work. But I found it quite interesting …god of thunder, all-father Odin, the only Norse gods I've heard about…did you know that there are days of the week which are named after them?"

"I…don't know that much about it, no… but it sounds interesting, indeed."

You saw Loki tensing and squirming on his chair and you wondered why. Did you say something wrong? Loki hoped you wouldn't dwell deeper on the subject. Of course, he knew everything about it.

"And nowadays you prefer to be here together with me instead of preparing everything for tomorrow?" Loki asked you, carefully changing the subject.

He tried to relax again. He didn't want to ruin this wonderful date with you.

"There's nothing to celebrate for me and I'm alone as you know. I definitely prefer to sit here with you, it's so much nicer than being alone at home and I enjoy your company so much."

"I like to sit here with you too, Lady y/n and you are absolutely right, it's better than being alone at home," and he smiled and winked at you.

"Good afternoon Madam, Sir, the same drinks as every day?"

The waiter came to your table and wanted to take your orders.

You smiled brightly at Loki and then you looked at the waiter.

"No, today we would like to have two hot chocolates and to be precise two hot chocolates with whipped cream, marshmallows and strawberry-cinnamon syrup please."

"Some time ago you said you would like to taste hot chocolate later on…and I decided today is 'later' ," you said to Loki, brightly smiling at him and he couldn't hide his own very bright smile while he looked down at the table and he sucked the lowerlipbetweenhis teeth.

"Two hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows and strawberry-cinnamon syrup, our Christmas edition, a very good choice, thank you, Madam," the waiter repeated and off he went to prepare your order.

"I can't argue with that," and he approved it with a helpless gesture of his hands, looking at you with puppy eyes.

He was kind of devoted to you already and he loved it. You held a tiny bit of power over him already. Something he would never have expected. Something he would never have allowed anyone else to have over him.

When the waiter had served your hot chocolates, you both took your mugs in your hands, ready to enjoy the sweet liquid.

"Gød Jul, Mr.Laufeyson."

"Gød Jul, Lady y/n."

"You're …pronouncing it perfectly " you wondered and frowned.

"I just …repeated what you said," he answered.

There was something about it, you felt it clearly.

After drinking some sips of the cocoa you both had a seam of whipped cream on your upper lips and you two laughed about it.

Loki looked at you, lovingly, unsure what to do and then within a millisecond without further hesitation he slowly stretched his arm out over the table. He put his angled index finger under your chin and rubbed his thumb tip gently, almost tenderly over your lips, collecting the rest of the cream from your upper lip. His blue eyes were fixed on yours.

Why was he so handsome, so desirable? His touch wandered like a warm wave through your body and it made you shiver. You nearly sucked his thumb into your mouth to lick it clean. Of course, you didn't, you wouldn't dare do it. He was your acquaintance, not your lover.

Your velvety lips felt so soft and warm. It must feel like being in Valhalla to kiss them or to be kissed by you. How much he wanted you to suck his thumb into your mouth and feel your warm tongue licking it clean. Filthy thoughts came to his mind while he licked the gathered cream off his thumb tip and it demanded a certain self-control to suppress these thoughts and the upcoming feeling in his stomach and his crotch.

He should stop thinking about you like that. You were his acquaintance, not his lover.

When he thought he had gained his composure back, you did the same with him. Now you rubbed your thumb tip gently over his lips, gathering the cream off his upper lip, your fingers gently placed at his cheek. His lips were so soft, so kissable and you licked the cream you had collected from his lips off your thumb, your eyes never leaving his.

You thought about how it must feel to be kissed by him, his soft lips on yours, grazing further over your cheeks down to your neck, to your clavicle …you should stop daydreaming, immediately because it would never happen.

You two didn't know what to do now. Was that too physical? Too intimate? Did you overstep the private boundaries of the other? To touch each other like this felt good for both of you and yet you felt shy and you didn't know what to say. What you two just had done was exciting and embarrassing at the same time.

"Do you like it?" You asked him to break the silence.

"What do I like?" Loki was still lost in thoughts about you.

"Hot Chocolate? Do you like it?" You asked him with a quizzical look in your eyes and softly smiling.

"Oh! Yes, yes it's delicious. It's sweet and creamy and warms the soul."

"Yes, indeed, it does. That's why I love it so much," you smiled warmingly at him.

Why did he affect you so much? You were afraid one day you would be completely devoted to him and deeply in love with him. But does it really exist, the deep, genuine, reciprocated and unwavering love?

With Loki it seems possible for you but it would never happen. He would never reciprocate your growing feelings for him. He remained guarded.

After some more chit-chat, time had come to go home. You paid the drinks this time, said your goodbye to Loki and as every day he helped you into your coat and passed you your beanie and your scarf.

"It was a wonderful afternoon, Mr.Laufeyson. Thank you so much!" and you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"My pleasure, Lady y/n."

You crinkled up your nose and smiled, he was so adorable. Loki got you whenever he called you a Lady.

Today you were extremely adorable for him, every cell of his body seemed to tingle.

"Will we meet again tomorrow? I mean …it's Christmas. Maybe you have other plans?"

"Maybe we can have supper together, too?" he asked cautiously.

"I assure you I don't have other plans. Of course, we will meet tomorrow, Mr.Laufeyson. There's nothing better than spending tomorrow's afternoon together with you again."

"Maybe!" You nodded promisingly at him.

"See you tomorrow, Lady y/n. Same time, same place?"

"Same time, same place, Mr. Laufeyson."

His charming smile enchanted you and made it hard for you to leave.

On your way back home shortly after you had left Loki and the café you got a phone call. It was your colleague from work. Actually, the next two days would be your days off but they needed you to come and help them because two colleagues got sick.

"Yes, of course, I can come. A double shift? No, no problem, you know that I won't celebrate Christmas. The day after tomorrow, too…the early shift? Hmmh, yes okay, no problem either. Okay! See you tomorrow, bye," and you ended the call.

And then it hit you. Damn, you were on a date with Loki tomorrow again, in the afternoon as usual and for the first time in the evening, too! But you couldn't let your colleague down either. You should tell him, you had to, he would wait for you tomorrow. You turned around on your heels and you ran hurriedly back to the café.

But Loki was already gone and the café had already closed. What should you do now? You neither knew where he lived nor did you have his phone number. And also there was no one you could ask. He wasn't meeting other people here except…you sighed sadly.

You didn't want to think about him meeting other women to dispel the darkness of the night with amorous activities. But who could blame him, he was extremely handsome, sexy, extraordinarily charming and incredibly hot.

You would try to get away from work tomorrow for just half an hour or so, so you could explain to him why you won't have time to meet him and how much you feel sorry about that. But maybe he wouldn't even care if you came or not. You weren't that important to him, were you?

Loki didn't want to go home yet after you had left the café. His brother and colleagues were knee-deep in final Christmas preparations and he wasn't interested in getting involved. To spend the day tomorrow with you was a completely different thing because it was about spending time with you.

He decided to go to his favourite bar, but unlike before he wasn't in the mood today to take a woman home into his bed to sweeten up his night. He definitely didn't want to.

Two days. You didn't come for two days. Loki was concerned beyond belief. On Christmas day he waited for you in the park like every day. He waited for one hour, two hours, he went to the café but you weren't there either. He was not only concerned, but he was also sad. Didn't you want to see him anymore? Did something change your mind?

Was he too distant and guarded all the time? Or did you feel offended by his touch of your lips the last time you two met? It was quite intimate, wasn't it? Maybe too intimate. But to just not come wouldn't be your style to let him know about that. You would tell him the truth. You would always say what you think, what you like or dislike.

When you didn't come the second day, he nearly panicked. That wasn't you. Something must have happened to you. He decided to go back home after waiting for you for more than three hours and he would look for you tomorrow. He must find you, how was he supposed to not care about you, how was he supposed to be without you ever again? But where should he start to look for you? He neither knew where you lived nor where your working place was.

"Loki, are you okay?"

"What?"

"Are you okay? You seem concerned. Something happened?" Thor asked his brother, while Loki got rid of his coat and his jacket after he returned to Stark Tower and tossed it both on a chair. His scarf followed.

"No..yes…I don't know," and he traced his fingers over his head through his hair and shoved his hands finally into the pockets of his trousers.

Thor furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn't seen his brother like this for a very long time.

"Is it about a girl? Did one of your bedmates become too affectionate?"

"What? No! You know that I know how to avoid that!" Loki snapped.

"So what is it? You seemed happier recently. Youuu… smile more often when you think nobody sees you."

"Don't mock me!" said Loki slightly indignant and walked a few steps towards Thor who took a few steps backwards.

"Okay, okay calm down brother," and he raised his hands reassuringly.

"Tell me. What is it that keeps your mind busy?"

"You're right. It's a woman," Loki started hesitantly to tell his brother.

"We…have been meeting for several weeks now. Daily…every afternoon in a park."

"Daily? Really every day? Are you courting her? I mean, you still meet ladies who mess up your bed sheets …"

"She's none of them. She is…different, and so adorable. She's not that kind of woman who looks for a one-night-stand…"

"But you want to bed her, let her warm you under your sheets?" Thor asked teasingly.

"No…Yes…I…I don't know to be honest."

"So she's not your type?"

"She definitely is my type, she's beautiful and warmhearted and lovable…but as I said, she's different. But… I'm not her type I guess and… she's too good for me. After spending some time in the park we always visit a nice café to talk and drink something. She loves hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows… It's wonderful to spend time with her. It's comforting to have her around me."

Loki smiled with dreamy eyes. He could rhapsodize about you the whole day.

"Ahhh you like her, I mean, you really like her and stuff like flirting with her, holding her hands, smitten looks…" Thor said knowingly and a wide grin appeared on his face.

"Hi, guys! Who loves hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows?" Peter asked while he went past them.

"The girl Loki dates and is in love with." Thor grinned.

"Ah, cool. Is she nice, Mr. Loki? Bring her here though, Nat, Wanda and Pepper could use some female field assistance!" Peter said carefree while walking backwards to the kitchen.

"Stop that, both of you, I'm not courting her and I'm not in love with her. She is…just a good acquaintance," Loki growled angrily.

"Calm down, Loki. But why are you so concerned then?"

"Okay, okay Mr. Loki," said Peter apologizing and vanishing quickly towards the compound's kitchen.

"She didn't come, Thor. For two days now. Neither to the park nor to the café. She lives alone, Thor. I…I'm concerned something may have happened to her. I don't know what to do. If she still doesn't show up tomorrow I'll be looking for her in the whole city, no matter how long or what it takes!"

"So you don't know where she lives? Don't you have her phone number?"

"No, she never let me escort her to her home and we never exchanged phone numbers. Only Hel knows why we didn't. And she doesn't know where I live. I never told her…I didn't dare to tell her…I lacked the courage."

"Try to calm down a bit, there will be a reason for her absence, Loki. She will be there tomorrow. I'm sure." Thor said, convinced.

"I fervently hope you're right, brother!"

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Jul Aften - Christmas Eve

Gød Jul - Merry Christmas

Tags:

@lokisprettygirl @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @fictive-sl0th @huntress-artemiss

[lady-rose-moon]

The Meeting || I Have You || Loki x OFC!Reader ||

A/N: hello everyone and welcome to the first chapter of I Have You! I hope you all enjoy this as it is very dear to my heart.

For people who have not read it, you can find the OFC's introduction HERE to know who the reader shall be through the duration of this story!

↣ MASTERLIST

↣ I HAVE YOU MASTERLIST

Again, welcome to I Have You!

The winter solstice had just ended, and the parties had ceased their music, parents were gathering their children and guiding them home from a long night of celebrating the next change of season, though it shall not happen for the next few months. Asgardians old and young had gathered to celebrate that they were in the deep of winter and spring shall soon bloom. 

In the Asgardian Palace, the Aesir royal family had just finished their evening celebrations with their fellow lords and ladies of the other realms, apart from Jötunheim’s King, Laufey. Asgard and Jötunheim hadn’t had the best track record so it was best that they be left to themselves. The golden walls caught the last fires from the torches that hung from them, showing a slight regality of the now dominant darkness outside. At the head of the large table, King Odin finished his chalice of wine and set it down, rising to his feet to look down the table. Thor, his firstborn, was surrounded by his friends as they discussed the latest battle they had snuck away to fight. Odin admired Thor’s bravery and need for battle but did not approve that he sought out a fight when it was not needed, if he carried on then it could lead to more than just a verbal thrashing from the King and Queen of said realm. The old King sighed and raised his staff, Gungnir, high in the air before bringing it down on the stone floor to make a loud bang which brought all attention to him. 

 “Welcome to newer times of the year, my friends. I hope the next year will be as peaceful and thriving as this one has been,” Odin spoke, and the table listened to him as he spoke, truly enamoured by every word the Allfather spoke, “I apologise for my brief appearance, but I must retire for the night. I wish you all safe travels home, goodnight.” The table chorused a soft goodbye and Odin stood, departing from the dining hall with his wife on his arm.

Everyone resumed their conversations once the doors to the dining hall shut behind the departing King and his Queen. About halfway down the table, a boy sat beside Volstagg and a black-haired girl that couldn’t be much older than himself. This boy was Loki Odinson, second born to Odin Allfather and Queen Frigga. The boy did not look happy to be attending the dinner that his mother had firmly demanded he attend. He had wanted to stay in his room and read all night, watch fireworks from his window and celebrate his own way but Frigga would not allow it. 

 ‘You are almost 1,000 years old now, Loki, you must make a name for yourself.’ His mother had said to him that morning. But Loki had already made a name for himself, he had married young to a giantess, Angrboða. With her, he had sired three children: Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel. Loki loved his children with his heart, he had tried his hardest to keep Fenrir close to him so that Odin could not get his hands on his beloved son but while Loki was in the bath one night, a member of Odin’s Einherjar had snuck into his room and stolen his firstborn. 

Angrboða and Loki mourned the loss of their son and continued to do even after Angrboða informed Loki that she was with child once more. The child had been born strange, an egg instead of a baby. Loki had been confused as he held the bloody egg, but he felt nothing but love as his baby grew inside it. The same happened to his egg that happened to Fenris only this time, it took less time. Angrboða was watching over her egg fondly as Loki was meeting with officials from Vanaheim when a member of Odin’s Einherjar came in from a door behind her and promptly knocked her out, stealing the egg. The next Loki heard of the egg, Odin informed him that it had been thrown into the oceans of Midgard and Loki grieved, grieved for the loss of his first son, for the banishment of his second and for the love he knew he will never receive off Odin now.

When Hel was born, Loki saw her half-dead body and sobbed, resting his head on Angrboða’s chest as his child suckled her nipple for milk. He wasn’t sobbing because he didn’t want this child, he already loved her so much! He cried because he knew she would also be considered a monster by Odin and sent away just like her elder siblings. Loki and Angrboða tried to convince everyone that she had lost the baby, that it had been stillborn but the Allfather had not believed her. Loki had taken it upon himself to keep Hel close and to protect her, he did not leave her in her cradle for a bath, he did not let her sleep away from himself and Angrboða.

 Loki was terrified of losing his only little girl, he had always wanted a girl and cherished her cute giggles and excited squeals whenever he showed her simple magic tricks. Even through all this added protection, Odin had torn his only daughter from his arms and banished her to Helheim. That day came and went, many more passed and soon even Angrboða left him, she had died of a broken heart at losing all three of her children but Odin passed the death off as the flu to his citizens and life went on. 

Then there was a time, three hundred years later, when Loki decided he had had enough of grieving for his family, and he wanted to ruin Odin. Loki decided it would be funny to seduce Odin’s current warhorse, Svaðilfari. It had been all fun and games until she discovered she could not turn back from a mare into her human form, she had used her magic to scan herself and found another little bundle of magic beneath her own. Loki’s heart stopped and she realised she could not stay near Asgard’s palace while she was pregnant with her child and so she ran. Many warrants went up all over the Realm to find the prince and as she was reaching her eleventh month of pregnancy, she had hidden to wait out the rest in the mountains and away from any other life.

When her son, Sleipnir, had been born and she could shift back into her human form, she held her son close to her and looked down at him lovingly, appreciating this blessing from the gods. Sleipnir had been born a foal as she had carried him that way for the whole duration, she watched him change into a normal human as his magic slowly built up over the few hours, she spent holding him. He looked just like her, ebony hair already on his head, deep green eyes, and the cutest smile he’d ever seen since… her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Hel and her smile. Sleipnir had Hel’s smile and she was so proud. 

Two months later, when he was sure that Odin wouldn’t think him to be the culprit of Svaðilfari’s disappearance, he returned to Asgard castle with Sleipnir. Odin had been suspicious of course, but Sleipnir showed no reason to be a threat, so he wilfully ignored the child for once. Loki had been thankful for this, and he had shown his son around the castle with a bright smile, listening to Sleipnir’s cooing and enthusiastic squeals. 

Then they arrived, Queen Serena and her two daughters, Serenity, and Isabella. It was widely known that Princess Isabella was adopted after her father had saved her from her mother and sent her to live with the royal family of Midgard’s moon.

Loki was required to stand with his family, staring boredly at the new royalty that he would have to study about later as he itched to get back to his son safely locked in his chambers.

"King Odin, oh grand Allfather, I present my daughter, Princess Isabella Moon to you and pronounce her my heir to the title of Queen of the Moon Kingdom," Queen Serena announced and Loki raised a curious eyebrow as he took in those words. This Queen is favouring her ward rather than her firstborn, he mused to himself, perhaps I, Odin's second born still may have a chance against my brother if that is so.

"The Nine Realms recognise Princess Isabella Moon as heir to the Moon Kingdom," Odin replied, holding his hand out to Isabella and watching as she took it warily, "Princess Isabella Moon, can you declare with your whole heart that you will honour this title and always respect your mother's choice?"

Isabella's back straightened and she nodded bravely, "I so swear it, Allfather," she replied softly, her voice catching in Loki's ears unexpectedly, igniting a curiosity that had been dulled through motherhood.

Odin nodded and looked beyond the Princess to the crowds, "I present to you, Crown Princess Isabella Moon of Midgard, the heir to their Moon Kingdom!"

The crowd applauded and Isabella smiled nervously as she looked out to the crowd, waving hesitantly as she realised the situation she was in before her younger sister grabbed her hand and dragged her out onto the dance floor.

Despite his interest, he took no notice of Princess Isabella as he was still nursing Sleipnir and recovering from his birth but later in the night when cuddling his already sleeping son, she walked up to him with a gentle smile.

“May I hold him, your majesty? I won’t wake him, I swear,” the girl smiled and looked at him with a curious look in her eye and he reluctantly handed his son to her, watching her carefully as if she would turn away and take Sleipnir from him. She didn’t. She took a seat beside him and gazed down at the young boy in her arms with a soft smile before she began to speak again, “is he yours? Mother had me and Serenity informed of your fluidity to respect you! He’s so beautiful, he looks like you.” 

Loki looked at the girl with surprise evident on his face before he smiled and nodded as he gazed down at his son, “his name is Sleipnir. I love him more than life itself and if something happened to him…. I wouldn’t forgive myself…” He mumbled weakly and smiled gently at her before huffing and wiping his eyes quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m still very hormonal. Mother says it will last a month longer and then I shall be back to normal.” He gently took Sleipnir back from her and smiled lovingly at his sleeping son’s face. 

Smiling, Isabella tucked a bit of hair behind Loki’s ear and watched him curiously, “forgive me, the Allfather spoke of you and said your reputation was horrible, that you cared for no one but yourself and your son.” That made Loki laugh as he looked up from his baby to meet Isabella’s eyes, his heart so full of grief and pain that Isabella could see it so clearly on his face and she reached her hand out and cupped his cheek, flinching back when Loki instinctively flinched away from the contact.

“Please don’t,” Loki mumbled, looking away from her and down at his son, “I’m not at all crazy about contact after what has happened to my family.” He sounded so broken, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears and Isabella hated herself for taking all this time to get to him, to get to her soulmate.

“I’ve gone through many lovers, Isabella, I’ve never been able to hold them. Please don’t think you’ll be the first to try to stay with me, the last one died because of me and my family.” 

Isabella sighed and nodded, giving him a smile before she stood up and moved to kneel in front of Loki and Sleipnir, pushing away some of Sleipnir’s loose hair and she giggled when Sleipnir started to rouse from his sleep, “I suggest we should move him, your highness, if he wakes right now, he shall not sleep the night.” Loki nodded right away and lead Isabella through a side door and down a corridor or two until he got to the grand doors of his chambers, and he turned to her with a shy smile.

The way Isabella’s heart fluttered when she saw Loki’s own smile was indescribable! She had just met the Godling, and she already knew that he was the one she was assigned to by Ymir and the Yggdrasil. Gently stepping back, she gave a small wave to Loki and to Sleipnir’s slowly rousing face before she turned on her heel and left. 

Loki watched her leave with a sad smile before Sleipnir started to get fussy and he laughed, walking into his room and over to his bed after locking the front door and all the windows, “you are a fusspot when you just wake up, sweetie!” Laying Sleipnir down, Loki undressed him from his onesie and proceeded to change him before giving him a new nappy and conjuring up a bottle of warm milk as he paced around his bedroom, smiling down at his son as he watched the young boy drift off again while drinking the milk. Sighing in relief, Loki slipped into bed and laid Sleipnir down beside him and held his tiny hand in his own before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

"Thank you," he whispered into the night, his mind thinking of the Princess he had just met and the promise of a better life.

He had let his guard down. Odin had backed off. Everything was supposed to be fine! He had merely stepped into the next room to grab Isabella and show her that Sleipnir had finally said “mummy”! When he came back, though, his son was gone. His son was gone, along with the last of his heart. Dropping to his knees, he stared at his bed where his child had been not two minutes ago. He broke. His heart was now sawdust blowing in the Asgardian summer. Isabella knelt beside him and rested her head on his shoulder as she tried to hold back her own tears. It had been a year; she had known the broken family for a year and had become quite attached to Sleipnir, so this loss affected her deeply. She watched as her soulmate’s heart shattered and the boy in front of her barely looked like the proud mother, he had been just three minutes ago... He looked so vulnerable, so broken, so helpless and Isabella hated seeing him so. 

“It can’t be so, I just left for a moment! How did... how did he get in here...?” Loki mumbled weakly, more to himself than to the woman holding him so lovingly. He stood abruptly and started pacing around the room, trying to figure out the fateful lapse in his judgement. Why had he walked out on his son? Did his son cry? Did he call for his mummy only to be taken away still? Where had Loki gone wrong in his watch? Why did he look away?! 

“Loki, you’ll burn a hole into the marble if you carry on pacing,” a gentle voice whispered by his side, a warmth surrounding him as Isabella took him into her arms and sniffled, “we will all mourn for them alongside you, but you must remember that I can easily break the treaty with Asgard for this, you know Serenity will agree to my choice when she finds out about this and so will Mother.” Isabella stroked her hand through his silky hair and frowned when Loki shook his head.

“No, this is another of Father’s malicious tests of loyalty. Pull out now and he’ll forbid your return to Asgard the moment the comment leaves your mouth. I can’t lose you too, Isabella, you’re the only one left!” Loki begged her, his weakness shining through now that he had lost all of his children. Isabella helped him cling to her as she shushed him gently, stroking his hair and frowning.

The Demoness knew that she would not be able to forget how broken Loki looked on the day he lost his foal. All of the faith that she had for the Allfather and belief that Loki and Odin might be peaceful someday shattered the moment the first tear rolled down Loki's cheek. Now her loyalty was to Loki and only Loki.

Delicately, she cupped his cheek and smiled lovingly at him as she lifted his head so he could look at her, “I’m never leaving you, I have you, I promise.”

~~~

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[thundcrstruck]

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❝ Ah yes, I can tell! You're a King now, I see, well Congratulations. We should celebrate this joyous news. ❞ He knew Caspian was on his way to taking reigns as King one day. But he didn't know his old friend had already reached that point in his life already. He was extremely happy for him. And Thor always liked to have an excuse to throw a party in Asgard, any excuse. But he truly did want to celebrate Caspian's achievement.

The God of Thunder placed a hand upon his friends shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Moments he got to spend with those he considered blood, were some of the times he cherished. And he could tell by Caspian's face that he felt bad about not mentioning his royal lineage. But the blonde god didn't care, he didn't need his friends and loved ones to always bow to him. Or give him any special treatment. He was just like they were, especially when it came to The Avengers.

Starting to walk forward he gave a slight nudge against Caspian's shoulder. Leading him to the Watering hole, here in Asgard. A round of Mead on him, along with some food and good conversations. ❝ Do not worry so much about my title, you are my friend. You do not need to bow to me, or treat me any differently. And as for The Avengers, they are all doing very well. Tony is still his , arrogant, loving self. Come, let's go to the pub and lay a few back in your honor. And I shall tell you about all the battles I have fought with them. ❞