A/N: Hello! It's been a while! I must update The Trickster and the Spider, I'm aware of that. In the meantime, enjoy this little one shot full of Blackfrost fluff, inspired by folklore by Taylor Swift! The songs used here are "august", "seven", "the lakes" and "invisible string"

Words: 1562

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Salt air, and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

Whispers of "Are you sure?"

"Never have I ever before"

Loki stirred, blinking twice and feeling his limbs numb after a whole night of rest. Something unusual, to say the least. It was not uncommon that he barely slept five hours a day, ghosts of his past haunting him. All the screams, the void, Thanos…

A soft whimper and warm skin by his side startled him. Yet, a smile crept into his features as he observed the sea of fire hair spread on the white sheets. She was covered with her arm on her side. Her plump lips were half open. Her chest moved with each breath, calm, steady. She felt safe there, he knew that.

The God laid on his side and the fingertips of his right hand caressed her creamy skin, smiling even more as she groaned softly, shifting but not turning. Yet. She smelt like vanilla and he loved that. To him, it was like home. Really home.

Asgard had never been his home. Not really. He was always a shadow, living in the shade of Thor's greatness. Even his own "father" compared them. Everybody did. Except Frigga. She loved both her sons equally. She was the one that had taught Loki how to use magic, how to fight in a different way than his brother.

Thor's style was more related to pure strength. A way to prove himself worthy. To prove himself to be the biggest, the more brute of them all. Obviously, that was part of the Asgardian tradition. Fighting for honor. Loki was more about subtlety. Magic. Tricks. And above all, diplomacy. His brother opened his mouth in the most unfortunate of the times and he had proved to be a decent king.

But all of that had faded. He was a king without a crown. And she was his queen, even if he had refused to acknowledge that over the time they had been dating, claiming she was no royal nor she wanted to be.

It didn't matter to him. Frigga would have loved her. Sif and she were close enough to teach each other new fighting techniques. Loki still remembered the first time the mighty warrior had used her most famous movement against Thor, pinning him to the ground. They all laughed, of course.

The sun was coming through the windows, soft breeze rocking the curtains. It had begun to set light. Soon they would be required to their daily tasks. They would be forced to leave the bubble that was their bedroom. In that room, there was no need to pretend. The masks, the lies…it was all left behind.

"You're tickling me" her voice, hoarse from her sleep. His lips curved into a smile before he leant to press a kiss to her bare shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and he wished she would open them. He wanted…no, needed to see those green eyes that bore into his, almost as if a single look could decipher all his deepest secrets.

Maybe she could.

"That could have been my intention, don't you think, my dear one?" he chuckled as he peppered kisses all over her uncovered skin. He followed a scar on her left arm. A new one, as the skin was still tender and pink. Scarred. A knife. Not a neat job, to say the least.

"Keep bothering me and I'll kick you out of this room. Besides, you know that nickname is"

Loki laughed again and turned her, so she was facing him. She had opened her eyes and they were fixed on his features. The God felt his chest heaving. Could a mortal leave an Asgardian God powerless? Because if so, she had done.

And I think you should come live with me

And we can be pirates

Then you won't have to cry

Or hide in the closet

And just like a folk song

Our love will be passed on

"How should I call you then, my beloved Natasha?"

The Widow laughed softly and circled his waist with her own arms, placing her chin against his bare chest, observing him. His locks were disheveled, some falling to his features. Natasha placed them behind his ear and Loki closed his eyes as her skin touched his. Her hand cradled his cheek and he leant against his touch.

"Well, let me think…Natasha when we are in public…" he snorted and smiled, leaning to kiss her nose, watching as she wrinkled it, an adorable gesture he loved. Especially when it was because of him. "Agent Romanoff when we are in a mission. Love, but only on especial occasions"

"And what should I call you when I am cross?" Loki replied with a chuckle. "Tasha?"

"No!" she replied, her shiny eyes on his. Soft hands caressing bare skin. She smiled at his words and shook her head. "You may only call me "Tasha"... when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy"

Loki paused briefly to observe her. That woman. That devilish woman who had been witty enough to win him on years ago. A glass barrier separating them. Two intelligent and sharp minds against each other. If they had met before they wondered if things would have been different. If she had been on his side, causing chaos and havoc around them.

The God of Mischief and the Black Widow. What a powerful combination.

It hadn't been easy, though. Trusting each other, being two skilled liars as they were. Nor they didn't want to give in their feelings. She was still distrusting of him, no matter how hard he tried to earn a name in the Avengers. To them, he would always be the God who had attempted to conquer Midgard.

And yet, they had fallen. Unable to resist, they had found comfort and forgiveness in each other's arms, while the world didn't trust them. But they did.

Loki ran a hand down her soft curls, watching as they fell down her shoulders. Red on white skin. He curved his lips into a soft smile, shaking his head, pressing her flush against his body, enjoying her warm body. Fire and Ice, like Robert Frost's poem.

Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks looklike a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

"Then tell me how you are feeling now…Tasha" he whispered, caressing her cheek with his thumb before pressing his lips on her forehead. Loki felt her smiling and imitated her. "Tasha…" Another kiss, this time on his nose. "Tasha…" He muttered, stopping with their lips almost touching. The God could feel her trembling, trying to restrain herself from getting closer. His fingers moved down her naked arm and laced their fingers together. "Tasha…" he whispered one more time before he kissed her.

It was lazy, a morning kiss full of feelings and love. His free hand cupped her face and Natasha moved closer, burying her hands in his dark locks. Their eyes closed. Their hearts beating together at the same time. Soft plump lips. Delicate biting. Hands moving to trace her spine. Loki separated when he felt the need to breathe, observing that she was as affected as he was.

Loki knew better than to get delusional. The world could be cruel, and it took everything from you in one second. Yet, when he was with Natasha, he felt everything else disappeared. He still felt astonished that he could never get tired of her lips, her kisses. Her laugh. Norns, how he loved when he made her laugh. She was so natural, so…free. When had Natasha felt free in her whole life?

"You have bewitched me, Tasha, body and soul" he whispered, leaning to get another kiss. Yet, she moved away, staring at him with a frown and a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Have you been reading Jane Austen's books?" she asked with a smirk.

"In my defense, it's your fault for introducing me to Midgardian literature. Besides, she's quite a talented writer. Does it bother you?"

"Oh, no. I actually like it. But don't you dare to use her quotes like your own again. Or else…" she left the threat in the air and Loki smirked, knowing that she could kick his ass if she wanted to.

"Fair enough"

"Now I realise you're like Mr. Darcy"

"Because I'm handsome?"

"Because you're unsufferable"

Loki pretended to be annoyed at her reply, observing as she put on her best innocent face. That woman. Damn Widow. She could convince anyone of anything. He growled and pressed her against him.

"You break my heart"

"Oh, did you have one?"

"Oh, no. You crossed the line now, agent Romanoff"

He rolled and started to tickle her, hearing Natasha's laugh as they were both tangled between the sheets. The sun was rising, and they had a long day ahead. Yet, they wanted to enjoy every single second they could get together.

Some might think the Black Widow and the God of Mischief didn't have a heart. And yet, they found each other, cared about the other.

The world didn't matter in that room. For they had each other.

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?