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mochie85 · 1 year ago

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I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room. Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought. “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

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endless-oc-creations · 2 years ago

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Mimi's Mobile Oc Masterlist

Updated 12/6/2023

Horror

Misc.

Mystery/Investigation

Marvel

Stranger Things

Superheroes

Important note: I used to be guardiansofheroes I changed my URL to endless-oc-creations. I did the same thing to my main URL that I follow and follow back from. delicateblackrose is now @endless-hoppington

💕 Forever Taglist: @bravelittleflower @sunlitscribe @eddysocs @raith-way @waterloou @decennia @hiddenqveendom @aaronhotchstuff @foxesandmagic @booty-boggins @asirensrage @connietheecunning @lucys-chen @arrthurpendragon @daughter-of-melpomene 💕

Want to be added? Shoot me an ask!

Coloring Credits for all headers: Prairie by Irwinbae on Deviantart

#Heeeeyyyy it's finally updated!#mimi masterlist #mimi tag list #marvel ocs #horror ocs #misc ocs #superhero ocs #mystery ocs #stranger things ocs

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lonewolflupe · 1 month ago

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DAY 10 | Commander Fox for @peggy7447 <3 Advent Calendar and some ramblings below the cut (:

Dear Peggy,

Who would I be to deny you all some Fox content on the 10th day of my Advent Event?!? So here’s a soft Fox especially for you, Peggy! <3 You’re always so kind and wholesome, thank you for being such a sweet friend! This somehow reminded me of Clark Kent? So have a Fox Kent superhero to save you whenever a day isn’t too kind on you! Thank you for helping me see The Light and falling for this caf-addicted Commander, I am most grateful to you (I don’t want to sound dramatic but I can’t imagine my life without him now)! Also I absolutely love your OC Lasha and can’t wait to find out how her story continues!

Happy Holidays!

Love, Lupe

day 9 | ↓ | day 11 Advent Event info | Advent Event Masterlist

#tcw fox #commander fox #commander caf #coruscant guard #advent calendar #lonewolflupe #lonewolflupe draws #lonewolflupe's advent event

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amethystarachnid · 27 days ago

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CLINGING TO CHRISTMAS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Request: Please, "Time Together" with Tony/f!reader, because it's my dream to share a quality time with him! Spend some time in bed in the morning, cook breakfast together, watch movies cuddling on the couch, eat some snacks, visit a coffee shop in the afternoon, walk on the streets admiring the Christmas decorations and of course buy some decorations for their house 💖 you can add all the fluff you want, love! Thank you! 💖 (@little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing pure fluff

ᯓ★ Sorry if I'm not posting much, I didn't expect this period of the year to make me so busy :(

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The morning light filters into the penthouse through curtains half-drawn, painting soft, golden streaks across the room. The December chill whispers against the glass, but none of it reaches you. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and luxury, you stretch lazily, your toes brushing against the silk sheets and your back pressing into the solid warmth behind you.

Tony Stark, self-proclaimed genius billionaire and undoubtedly the clingiest man alive, has you locked in his arms. His chest rises and falls against your back, his nose buried somewhere near the curve of your neck. It’s a miracle you can breathe at all with how tightly he’s holding you, as though the world might steal you away the second he lets go.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with an unmistakable softness. He doesn’t lift his head, just tightens his hold and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Actually, scratch that. Let’s stay in bed and make it an all-day kind of morning.”

You laugh softly, your breath visible in the cool air of the room. "We both know you can’t stay still for that long."

Tony’s lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Challenge accepted. If you try to move, I’ll just make a counter-play and pull you back.” His hand, warm and strong, splays across your stomach as he shifts to kiss the side of your jaw. “How am I supposed to work when this—” he gestures vaguely, as if encompassing you, the bed, and the whole moment—“exists?”

“You’ll survive,” you tease, but you don’t make any move to escape his embrace.

It’s rare to see him so utterly unguarded, his usual whirlwind of energy and rapid-fire wit replaced by this tender, sleepy version of himself. You suppose that’s what the holidays do to him—or maybe it’s just what you do to him.

The penthouse feels different this time of year. Warmer. Cozier. The massive space, which you used to think was too cold and impersonal when you first moved in, has been transformed by the simplest of touches. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, its branches adorned with lights and ornaments you picked out together last week. Tony had grumbled through most of it, claiming he could’ve just hired someone to do the decorating, but the way his face lit up when you found the perfect star for the top told you he didn’t regret a second of it.

“You know,” he says, his voice interrupting your thoughts, “I don’t think I’ve ever really done Christmas right. Not like this.”

“Not like what?”

“This.” He props himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes meeting yours. “With you. The tree. The... not-hiring-a-company part. It’s new, and I like it.” He leans down, his nose brushing yours. “But you’ve ruined me, you know that? Stark Industries is going to fall apart because I can’t focus on anything except this face.”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his compliment. “I’m sure Pepper would argue that you’ve been distracted long before I came along.”

“True. But now it’s your fault, so congrats.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and you melt into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his already-messy hair. The taste of coffee lingers faintly on his lips, even though he hasn’t left the bed yet—an early morning habit, courtesy of the automated coffee machine he designed to deliver a steaming cup to his bedside at 7:00 AM sharp.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his grin boyish and carefree. “So, what’s the plan today? More holiday cheer? Gingerbread houses? Are we making a wreath? Stringing popcorn on a garland?”

“None of those things, because you don’t have the patience for them,” you tease, laughing when he huffs in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an incredibly patient man when it comes to—” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Actually, never mind. You’re right. But I’ll be an excellent assistant. You’re the boss of Christmas around here.”

You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I could put you to work.”

Tony smirks, his hands trailing down to your waist. “Put me to work. I dare you. I’m excellent at manual labor. By which I mean supervising while you do all the hard stuff.”

“Exactly what I thought,” you reply, poking him in the chest. “Lazy.”

He grabs your hand before you can pull it back, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Not lazy. Just very efficient at conserving energy for important tasks—like keeping you warm.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” You laugh as he pulls you back down into his arms, burying his face in your neck again. The scratch of his stubble makes you squirm, but you don’t mind.

Outside, the snow begins to fall in lazy flurries, dusting the balcony and the tops of skyscrapers. Inside, the world feels smaller, quieter, and infinitely more perfect. Wrapped in Tony’s arms, the chaos of the world seems a million miles away, and for once, neither of you is in any rush to bring it back.

“Alright, Mr. Efficient,” you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence as Tony’s thumb lazily traces patterns on your hip. “Time to get up.”

He groans dramatically, tightening his arms around you like a human bear trap. “Nope. Hard pass. The bed is warm, you’re here, and there’s no world-ending emergency—why would I leave this paradise?”

“Because you need to eat,” you counter, trying to wiggle free. “And I’m starving.”

“I have protein bars for that,” he says, burying his face further into your neck. “Energy-efficient, calorie-packed, no mess.”

“Tony,” you scold, though you’re laughing. “That’s not breakfast.”

“It can be if you eat it in the morning,” he retorts, smug as ever, and you can feel his grin against your skin.

You twist around to face him, your hands braced against his chest. “What if I promise pancakes? You love pancakes.”

Tony’s eyes crack open, a flicker of interest sparking to life. “You’re not wrong. Pancakes are a pretty compelling argument.”

“And we can make them together,” you add, your voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “It’ll be fun.”

He narrows his eyes at you like you’ve just proposed an evil plot. “Fun, or me getting roped into some sort of ‘domestic bonding experience’ that ends with me covered in flour and you laughing at me?”

“Both,” you admit shamelessly. “But there will be pancakes.”

Tony sighs like a martyr but sits up, the sheets falling from his shoulders. “Fine. But if I’m going to embarrass myself, I reserve the right to wear the apron. The manly apron.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “The one that says ‘Genius at Work’?”

“It’s the only acceptable choice,” he declares, climbing out of bed with a dramatic stretch before extending a hand to you. “Let’s go make the kitchen regret its existence.”

The kitchen, with its sleek, state-of-the-art design, looks more like a high-tech laboratory than a place where anyone actually cooks. You rummage through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients, while Tony stands by the island, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re really going to make me do this, huh?” he asks, leaning on the counter.

“It’s just pancakes, Tony. Flour, eggs, milk—basic stuff. Even you can’t mess this up.”

“First of all, rude,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Second, I don’t see you factoring in my wild card genius. You might end up with... I don’t know, a soufflé by accident.”

“Pretty sure pancakes aren’t supposed to turn into soufflés,” you reply, laughing as you hand him a mixing bowl.

Tony takes it with exaggerated caution, as though it might explode. “Alright, boss. Tell me what to do.”

You start instructing him step by step, trying to keep it as simple as possible. Crack the eggs. Add the flour. Measure the milk. It seems to go well at first—until Tony decides to get creative.

“Shouldn’t we add something extra?” he asks, glancing at the spice rack. “Cinnamon? Nutmeg? A splash of whiskey?”

“Whiskey? It’s eight in the morning,” you say, snatching the bottle out of his hand before he can pour it into the batter.

“Never too early for innovation,” he argues, grinning as he sets the whiskey down. “Alright, no booze. But we’re definitely adding chocolate chips.”

You roll your eyes but let him sprinkle a handful of chocolate chips into the batter, which he does with far too much enthusiasm. His “help” becomes increasingly questionable as you move to mix everything together, his hands finding more excuses to end up on your waist, your shoulders, or brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Tony,” you warn as his arms snake around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “If you don’t let me stir this, you’re not getting pancakes.”

“But you’re doing so well without me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “I’m supervising.”

“Your supervision is going to make me spill this everywhere,” you say, laughing as you try to keep the bowl steady.

“I’d argue that’s part of the fun,” he counters, but he relents, stepping back just enough to let you finish mixing.

When it’s finally time to cook, you heat the griddle and ladle the batter onto it, the sizzle filling the air. Tony insists on flipping the pancakes, despite your skepticism.

“Just watch,” he says confidently, spatula in hand. “I’ve seen a hundred YouTube videos on this. I’ve got the wrist action down.”

You cross your arms, watching as he slides the spatula under a pancake and attempts to flip it with a flourish. The pancake arcs through the air—almost gracefully—before landing halfway on the griddle and halfway on the counter.

Tony stares at it for a moment, then turns to you with an unapologetic grin. “See? Perfect.”

“Perfectly disastrous,” you correct, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess. “Let me handle the flipping.”

“Fine,” he says, stepping back. “But only because I don’t want to overshadow your skills.”

By the time you’ve finished, the kitchen looks like a flour bomb exploded. There’s batter smudged on the counter, chocolate chips scattered across the floor, and Tony has somehow managed to get a streak of flour across his cheek.

“You’re a menace,” you say, laughing as you reach up to wipe the flour from his face.

“I’m adorable,” he counters, catching your wrist and pulling you closer. “And you love me.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it, especially when he leans in to kiss you. His lips taste faintly of chocolate, and his stubble tickles your skin. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you forget the mess, the pancakes, and everything else except the two of you.

When you finally pull away, you’re both grinning like idiots.

“Alright,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s see if we actually made something edible.”

The pancakes are far from perfect—slightly misshapen and a little unevenly cooked—but they taste good enough, especially with a generous drizzle of syrup. You sit together at the island, plates in hand, as snow falls softly outside the windows.

Tony nudges you with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I told you we’d make a good team.”

“You mean I made the pancakes and you got in the way?” you tease.

“Semantics,” he says, taking another bite. “The important thing is, we survived. And the pancakes are edible. Mostly.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he leans over to steal a kiss, syrup and all. It’s messy and chaotic and far from perfect, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because with Tony, even the simplest moments—like making pancakes on a snowy December morning—feel like magic.

“Alright, genius,” you say, stacking the plates in the sink and turning to face Tony, who’s leaning casually against the counter, his coffee mug in one hand. “Breakfast mission accomplished. What’s next?”

He sets the mug down with exaggerated importance, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “My turn to pick. Pancakes were your idea; now I get to call the shots.”

You raise an eyebrow, already suspicious. “That’s fair. But if you’re about to suggest working in the lab or something involving an explosion—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No gadgets. No explosions. Just a simple, low-tech activity that even you’ll approve of.”

You cross your arms, trying not to smile. “I’m listening.”

Tony steps closer, his grin widening. “We’re going to cuddle on the couch and watch one of those absolutely atrocious, cliché Christmas movies that are so bad they’re good.”

“Tony Stark wants to watch a cheesy Christmas movie?” you ask, feigning disbelief. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hey, I have layers,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Besides, the movies aren’t for me. They’re for you. I’m just the selfless guy who’ll hold you through the ridiculous love triangles, improbable snowstorms, and overacting.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Blankets, snacks, and no interruptions.”

Tony salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

True to his word, Tony transforms the living room into a cozy oasis. He grabs every blanket he can find, piling them onto the couch with dramatic flair, while you raid the kitchen for snacks. When you return with a bowl of popcorn and a tin of Christmas cookies, Tony is already sprawled out on the couch, patting the spot beside him.

“Get over here,” he says, his tone playfully demanding. “I’m sacrificing my cool reputation for this. You owe me cuddles.”

“Sacrificing your cool reputation?” you tease, settling in beside him. “Pretty sure that went out the window the moment you flipped a pancake onto the counter.”

He narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t argue, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Pick your poison,” he says, handing you the remote.

You scroll through the seemingly endless options of holiday movies until you find one with a laughably predictable title. “How about Snowed In for Christmas?”

Tony groans theatrically. “Do you try to find the most ridiculous ones, or is it just a gift?”

“You said cheesy,” you remind him, pressing play before he can protest further.

The movie is every bit as absurd as you’d hoped. The plot revolves around a big-city journalist who gets stranded in a small, snow-covered town, where she falls in love with the ruggedly handsome owner of a struggling Christmas tree farm. Every trope in the book is present: the meddling townsfolk, the magical snowstorm, and, of course, the inevitable misunderstanding that threatens to ruin everything right before Christmas Eve.

Tony provides running commentary throughout, his dry humor making you laugh so hard you nearly spill the popcorn.

“Wait, wait,” he says, sitting up slightly. “Did she just quit her high-paying job in New York to stay in the town she’s been in for, what, a week? Who does that? Do people not have bills in these movies?”

“It’s called romance, Tony,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow. “Suspend your disbelief.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning back again. “But I’m just saying, if you ever ditch me for a lumberjack with a secret heart of gold, I’m suing Hallmark for emotional damages.”

“Noted,” you reply, laughing as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on your knee.

By the time the credits roll, you’re both in stitches, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “That was… something,” Tony says, shaking his head. “If my A.I. ever wrote a script like that, I’d have to reprogram it.”

“You loved it,” you counter, snuggling into his side. “Admit it.”

“I loved you laughing at it,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “But the movie? Eh, I’d give it two out of five stars. One of those stars is for the accidental comedy.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can argue, Tony grabs the remote and starts scrolling again. “Alright, my turn. Let’s find another one.”

“Another Christmas movie?” you ask, surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, smirking. “I’ve got the spirit now. I’m all in.”

The next movie is somehow even cheesier, involving a magical ornament that grants wishes and an overworked single dad who learns the true meaning of Christmas. Tony is relentless with his commentary, but somewhere around the halfway mark, his snarky remarks grow quieter. His hand strokes lazy circles on your back, and his head tilts until his cheek rests against the top of your head.

“Getting sleepy?” you ask softly.

“Not sleepy,” he mumbles, his voice low and warm. “Just... comfy. You make everything feel... easy.”

Your heart melts a little at his honesty. For all his bravado, Tony has a way of surprising you with these moments of unguarded vulnerability. You turn your head to kiss his jaw, your fingers curling around his.

“Love you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his lips brushing your forehead. “Love you more.”

The movie plays on in the background, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. The world outside the penthouse fades away as you bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment—just you, Tony, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights.

Hours later, when the snow outside has turned the city into a winter wonderland, you wake to find Tony still holding you, his breathing slow and even. The credits of the third movie you didn’t realize you started are rolling, and the room is bathed in a soft, golden glow.

You shift slightly, and Tony stirs, blinking sleepily. “Mmm. Did we win Christmas yet?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“You fell asleep during the movie,” you tease, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Only because you’re too comfortable,” he says, pulling you back down into his arms. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere. I’m holding you hostage for the rest of the day.”

You smile, resting your head on his chest and letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into contentment. If this is what being held hostage by Tony Stark feels like, you’re more than happy to surrender.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the city in quiet magic, you can’t think of a single place you’d rather be.

When you finally stir from your cozy spot on the couch, the afternoon sunlight is already streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The snowy city below looks like a scene straight out of a Christmas card, and the twinkling lights of the decorated streets are just beginning to glow as dusk approaches.

“Alright,” you say, stretching as you stand. “We’ve been lazy long enough. Let’s go out.”

Tony, still sprawled out on the couch like a contented house cat, raises an eyebrow. “Out? In this weather? Have you seen what’s happening out there? There’s snow, Y/N. Cold, wet snow.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “It’s December, Tony. Snow is kind of the whole point. Besides, you owe me.”

“For what?”

“For all the Christmas cheer you’ve been soaking up without lifting a finger,” you tease, pulling on his hand to get him to sit up. “Come on. We’ll stop by that coffee shop you like. They’ve got peppermint mochas.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously, but you can see the faint flicker of temptation. “You’re using coffee as bait.”

“And it’s working,” you counter, grinning as you toss him his coat. “Get dressed, Stark. We’re going.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re walking hand-in-hand through the snowy streets of Manhattan, the air crisp and cold but not unpleasant. True to your promise, you stop at Tony’s favorite coffee shop, where the barista greets him with a starstruck smile and immediately starts preparing his usual order.

“I have to admit,” Tony says as he takes a sip of his peppermint mocha, “this is a solid bribe.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, your own cup warming your hands as you lead him down the street.

But as you take a turn onto a quieter, festively lit avenue, Tony slows down, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. This isn’t the way home.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, your voice innocently cheerful.

He stops in his tracks, glancing up at the string lights crisscrossing above the cobblestone path ahead. The street is lined with rows of wooden stalls, each one festooned with garlands and wreaths. The scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of Christmas carols being played by a nearby quartet.

Tony looks at you, a mix of amusement and betrayal in his expression. “You tricked me.”

“I prefer to think of it as gently guiding you toward holiday spirit,” you say with a grin. “Come on. It’s just a Christmas market. Think of all the overpriced, handmade trinkets we can buy.”

“I’m not carrying bags,” he warns, even as he lets you tug him forward into the bustling market.

Despite his initial protests, Tony doesn’t seem to mind as you wander from stall to stall. The two of you weave through the crowd, pausing occasionally to admire the glittering ornaments, intricately carved wooden figurines, and colorful knitted scarves on display.

Tony keeps a protective hand on your back, steering you gently through the throng of people. Every so often, someone stops to ask for a selfie with him, and he obliges with surprising patience, though not without a few snarky comments.

“See?” you whisper after the third fan walks away, beaming from their encounter. “The Christmas market isn’t so bad, is it?”

Tony gives you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “It’s tolerable. Mostly because of you.”

You beam at him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll take it.”

As the sky darkens and the market’s lights grow brighter, the atmosphere becomes even more magical. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, landing softly on Tony’s dark hair and your scarf. You stop at a stall selling mulled wine, and Tony buys you a steaming cup, his free hand still intertwined with yours.

“This is suspiciously romantic,” he remarks, his voice teasing as you take a sip of the warm, spiced drink.

“Suspiciously?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” he says, smirking. “It’s almost like you planned it.”

“Almost?” you tease back. “Tony Stark, are you implying that I orchestrated an entire romantic outing just to make you enjoy Christmas?”

“I’m saying it’s diabolical,” he replies, leaning in to kiss the tip of your cold nose. “And I’m impressed.”

As you continue strolling, you stop in front of a stall selling Christmas decorations. The display is dazzling, filled with glass ornaments, sparkling tinsel, and miniature wreaths. You let go of Tony’s hand to pick up a delicate, hand-painted ornament shaped like a snowflake.

“This one’s pretty,” you say, holding it up to show him.

Tony eyes it, then glances back at you. “We already have a tree. We don’t need more decorations.”

You put the ornament back with a sigh, turning to face him. “Tony, the tree is literally the only festive thing in the entire penthouse. It’s sad. Like, single-guy-who-forgets-it’s-Christmas sad.”

“I was a single guy who forgot it was Christmas,” he points out.

“Exactly!” you exclaim, grabbing his arm. “But you’re not anymore. We live there together now, and I want it to feel like home—not just for me, but for you too.”

Tony hesitates, his expression softening as he watches you. Finally, he sighs in mock defeat. “Alright, you win. But I’m not carrying boxes of decorations.”

“That’s what delivery services are for,” you reply, grinning as you pull him toward the stall.

An hour later, the two of you are laden with bags containing everything from garlands to fairy lights to an assortment of quirky ornaments you couldn’t resist. Tony insists on buying a ridiculous set of baubles shaped like miniature Iron Man helmets, claiming they’re “for balance.”

As you make your way back home, you can’t help but smile at the sight of him carrying one of the bags, his usual swagger intact despite the snow and the festive chaos around him.

“You’re smiling,” he notes, glancing down at you.

“You let me drag you to a Christmas market and convinced you to buy decorations,” you say, leaning into his side. “I think I’ve earned a smile.”

Tony chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Fair enough. But just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’ve gone full holiday enthusiast. I’m still the same, cool, non-cheesy Tony Stark.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, smirking.

When you finally reach the penthouse, the two of you dump your bags on the living room floor and collapse onto the couch. Tony kicks off his shoes and stretches out, pulling you down beside him.

“You know,” he says, his voice soft as he glances at the tree in the corner, “you were right. The tree looked a little lonely.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s going to look perfect once we put everything up.”

Tony kisses the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “If it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.”

As the snow continues to fall outside, you sit together, the glow of the tree lights casting a warm, golden hue over the room. For all his grumbling and sarcasm, Tony Stark has embraced the holiday spirit in his own way—and you couldn’t love him more for it.

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atinyjules · 10 months ago

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How To Become A Hero; The Hard Way ft. Mark Lee

<<character introduction>>

"Are you proud of me?"

99 liner

Mark Lee

He is like a human solar panel, his body absorbs the solar energy from the sun to produce power.

With the energy from the sun he can generate heat and electrical energy.

He is like a golden retriever, bright and optimistic (plus he's cute too).

His father wanted to be a hero but chose to raise Mark and his brother instead so Mark strives to achieve his father's dream.

He wants to become strong enough to protect the people from any trouble, whether big or small.

The mini - masterlist for this series can be found here

#kpop fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop ff #kpop masterlist #nct dream #kpop fics #nct #nct dream masterlist #nct dream fluff #nct mark x reader #nct mark x fem oc #nct superhero au #nct dream superhero au #nct 127 super hero au #super m superhero au

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tessa-liam · 3 months ago

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Marabelle

Marabelle Series

Unspoken Words...

Chapter –16-

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist My Complete Masterlist

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Choices/Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating - M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence, terrorism.

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement with sprinkles of Canon

Chapter Summary – After Liam addresses the citizens of Cordonia, a message from Sophie sets his world back on its axis. Liam discovers Sophie’s secret. Hana Lee arrives to attend the ill-fated graduation.

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

Music & Title Inspiration:

Unspoken Words - James Malikey

Words - Bee Gees

Tell Him – Celine Dion; Barbra Streisand

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.

A/N4: Thank you @/artbyainna for your talents! Commission of Liam & Sophie⤵️

University of Cordonia, Capital

Liam’s POV:

“Sir, Lady Sophia has left you a message.” Bastien looked delighted as he held my phone up for me to grasp.

My head spun with a surge of conflicting emotions and energy. Fear and anticipation gripped my heart in an iron fist. Hope was winning out, but only barely. It was a good thing too; otherwise, I could've leapt for joy at those five seemingly innocent words. ‘...has left you a message.’ Bastien knew how desperately I needed to hear those words from him.

I tried to steady my racing heart.

I had to remember how to breathe.

It was impossible for me to think straight knowing Sophie was out there somewhere. It was agony trying to focus on anything else. She has always been brave and resourceful, but she is also no superhero. Anything could have happened to her. I do not want to imagine a world without her, especially if something had happened while I was unable to be by her side. I tried to keep positive and hope for the best, but I wasn't convinced I'd ever get her message. Still, I would have to have patience. I would have to have hope.

Everything in my heart and mind was screaming for Sophie. My soul was empty without her. It is amazing how a little text message, something that took seconds, could instantly bring the world back into focus. Suddenly, everything mattered again.

Her message was beautiful. Even without saying my name, I could see how much she loved me, and how she understood how worried I was. It was clear from her message that she was not upset with me for being gone. She understood my duties to Cordonia. With her simple but thoughtful message, she managed to soothe my aching soul and fill it with love and hope.

"...Don't worry about me. Just focus on what's needed right in front of you. I love you and look forward to seeing you soon."

A shaky laugh escaped my throat. A tear leaked from my eye as I continued staring at Sophie's beautiful message on my phone. My guards glanced at me and kept their distance, knowing me well enough to give me my privacy. Her words had the desired effect that settled me like nothing else would have. It gave me the focus I needed to deal with the mess left behind on the steps of the auditorium.

But I needed to feel her; to reassure myself of her safety.

Malic Motor Hotel/Emergency Safehouse

Liam, followed closely by Bastien and Drake, pushed the hotel doors open, the crisp ding of the door's bell brought all conversation to a halt. The employees and guests of the hotel suddenly stared, but quickly dropped to curtsy and/or bow in respect.

A brief time later, outside the Malic hotel, the sleek royal motorcade stopped at the entrance, under the vigilant gaze of Cordonian Police officers and local onlookers. When the SUV door was pushed open and Liam stepped out, everyone on the street was completely stunned. The paparazzi quickly moved forward in an attempt to capture the rare scene, but the Royal guard moved quickly to keep them at a distance, ensuring Liam's safety and privacy.

For the residents of the area, they know Liam is here for the tragedy, but most of them would never expect that a real royalty would come over at this hour to inquire about the injured. This shows just how concerned and generous the crown prince of Cordonia was for their welfare. It warmed their hearts to see him walking in the direction of the hotel, leaving behind a strong, imposing, and admiring aura.

After being escorted by the hotel concierge, Liam stood in front of the door for room 302. Bastien lifted his hand and rapped on the wooden frame. The hollow sound at once reverberated in the corridor, sounding just like his heart, beating like a drum now, Liam thought to himself.

The lock clicked open, and the handle was turned. Liam could not wait another moment. The moment the door opened, and he saw her, a moment of freezing, timelessness and perfect clarity overtook him. Sophie stood before him in the hotel room. Sophie, with her natural, soft beauty. She looked a bit tired and out of sorts, but she was whole, and in that instant, all was right in the world. His Sophie, alive and safe, stood before him.

In an instant, he knew what needed to be said. What she needed. All other things faded away, the guests in the hall, his security, Drake, Bastien; it was only the two of them.

He looked at her intensely; so profoundly, he could not breathe. With a soft smile, he simply said, "My Love..." and wrapped her tightly in his strong embrace. She could feel every inch of his toned body and feel the tremble of relief and suppressed tears of joy from his soul. His emotions were exposed for her alone, but still, he does not want her to see him cry. Her mind emptied itself of the chaos of the night before and was overwhelmed by the happiness and relief of reunion with Liam. She pressed her face into his firm chest and took a deep breath, letting the intoxicating masculine and his familiar cologne calm her even more. Nothing was said, nothing was needed. The unspoken words between them were loud and clear.

“Never again, Sophie. Never again, do I ever want to be away from you!” Liam’s breath rustled her hair, as he pulled back to gently cradle Sophie’s head in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe the tears away that were now falling rapidly as she cried in relief.

He gently pulled away from her just a bit. Lifting her chin up slightly with his finger, he looked into her deep blue eyes and uttered the words his soul had longed to say, "I love you." The intensity in his eyes was palpable; the raw passion and the deep feeling of utter truthfulness clear.

"I love you too." Sophie’s eyes sparkled as the words softly rolled off her tongue, watching his lips. Liam ran his thumb gently over her bottom lip as his crystal blue eyes swept over hers; the corners of her eyes had a moment of wetness and sadness. The grief and terror of the previous night struck Sophie once again, and more tears slipped down from her eyes. Without hesitation, Liam reached out, and wiped her tears and held her in his strong arms until the quivering and shivers came to stop. His tender look, his warmth and breath comforted Sophie, immediately easing her burden and allowed her to have another moment of calm.

Gently, she finally extricated herself from his arms and the warmth of his body, to allow him into her room. Liam crossed the threshold, stepping forward in a fluid stride, followed closely by Bastien and Drake, never breaking contact with Sophie by lacing her fingers with his.

"Oh!" Sophie started a bit when she realized Hana was sitting on the sofa. "Liam, this is my roommate, Hana. Hana, you have not officially met Liam, this is-"

"...Just Liam. Hello Hana. It is a pleasure to meet you." Liam nodded and smiled.

"It is an honor to meet you, Liam." The words tumbled out of Hana’s mouth as the reality of the situation hit her. The atmosphere and awkward silence were broken swiftly by Drake.

"Hello, Hana." His voice sounded brusque, his brow a bit wrinkled as he sat in the chair furthest from everyone. His eyes traveled over her as he said, "you seem familiar ... but not."

"No! I'm definitely a newcomer." She smiled, a bit embarrassed, but friendly. She noticed that he had looked at her with more than casual interest. Sophie watched them with an air of bewilderment, unaware that Liam noticed the twinkle in his old friend's eye and made a mental note to ask Drake about it later.

"Taylor, it's fantastic that you found a friend. I'm glad you didn't have to spend last night by yourself."

"I just got lucky, Drake; I suppose. Hana was kind and generous enough to help me."

Sophie started telling the story of how Hana helped her and how she was instrumental in getting outside information about the attack with her cell phone. The next several minutes were dedicated to relaying all that had happened at the graduation. When she had finally finished, there was silence in the room. Sophie looked from one person to another.

"What? What is it? Tell me." Sophie asked apprehensively.

"I'm relieved," said Liam, finally, not knowing if she realized the extent of the attack. "It is all we can do at the moment. In the coming days and weeks, the details are going to start trickling in, and we will figure out who, the why and the what happened."

He crossed the floor to the hotel room window and drew the curtains aside. Sophie went over, leaning slightly toward him to catch a view of the sun peeking its way out of the clouds above. The sunlight shone down like a gentle kiss on their faces, reminding them there was hope, even on days such as these. Liam took her hand in his and interlaced their fingers, and for the second time, the only sound they could hear was the reassuring sound of their breathing and the soothing comfort of their touch.

Hana, Drake and Bastien quietly watched their interactions, keeping themselves on quiet standby. Hana was touched and astounded that the crown prince was not shy to openly express his affection for her. Bastien, as King Constantine’s personal guard, had seen Liam as a child and his entire adolescence. He was proud of the man he had become; a thoughtful leader with a profound compassion and loving nature. In the time he had been assigned his bodyguard, he had never seen him care so deeply about a lady as he did about Sophie.

After an extended moment, Liam gently caressed his thumb across her knuckles.

"I'm glad you are safe, my love. However, it is time we got back to work. We need to gather information, plan the next course of action and do our best to make sure something like this never happens again."

"Okay," Sophie replied calmly, feeling a small jolt of reality hitting her.

"But first,” Liam squeezed her hand, looking deep into her eyes. The reddened skin of her injury on her forehead as a reminder. "You need to have the royal doctor examine you. Let's get you some medical attention."

Street level, outside the Malic Hotel

As Sophie walked alongside Liam, her nerves began to settle slightly. She was not looking forward to being poked and prodded by strangers, but she knew, however, that Liam wanted to make sure she had not sustained any serious injuries. Having convinced her new friend to join her, Hana accepted the offer to get checked out as well.

Liam and his security team escorted Sophie and Hana to the waiting royal cars. Sophie had never been driven around like a real member of the royal family, but at the moment, she didn't really care. She was far too preoccupied. Liam was with her now, and that was all she cared about.

As the Royal motorcade drove off, Bastien tapped Drake on the shoulder and pointed him to a few police officers in the area. "There, --some of the Cordonian National Guard are among the officers investigating this attack. See if you can gather any intelligence from them and determine if Maxwell or anyone else needs urgent medical attention."

Drake gave a small smile and nodded, "on it." He went over and approached a tall police officer with his Cordonia-issued badge on display. He flashed a smile and clapped the officer's back. "Excuse me, buddy, I heard you were leading the investigation here. I'd like to get your help to search for my missing friend. His name is Maxwell Beaumont. I want to make sure he's alright."

"Yes," the police officer answered succinctly, a bit intimidated to be standing beside someone who seemed so close with the royal guards. Quickly tapping the name into the database, he answered, "room 419.”

The walk along the endless corridor that took Drake, and the officer seemed long. When the police officer wracked his knuckles a on the door. After a few moments, the police officer glanced at Drake. "This is it. Shall I call a paramedic to check on his condition?"

Drake did not hesitate and called out, "Maxwell? Open the door." No answer. Drake raised his voice, "Maxwell? Max, it's me." Still, no sound. Drake turned back to the officer, "Open it now." The officer produced a key card and slid it through the scanner. A series of sounds came from the scanner, then a beep, and the green light lit up and the door clicked, "it's unlocked now." Drake thanked him briefly, then took hold of the metal handle and pushed it open.

"Max?" He called out as soon as he walked in. There was no response. He did a thorough search of the suite but could not find Maxwell or Daniel anywhere.

The officer, waiting patiently in the hallway, "is your friend not in there, sir?" Drake did not have any more time or patience to exchange small talk. He stormed out the door in an intimidating manner as the officer said, "I'll check the CCTV right away. Let's go and I'll show you."

“No need!” Drake answered brusquely. Before that, Drake had snapped up a small sheet of paper that was left in the corner of the coffee table. Written clearly in his friend's familiar handwriting:

'"Danny, going for food. BRB" love, Max.'

***

When the cars arrived at the hospital, the security team ushered Liam and his entourage to a V.I.P. entrance at the back of the hospital. Hana was at once handed off to a couple of doctors, as Sophie watched her hand slip out of Liam's grasp as a man and woman pulled her away. As much as Sophie trusted them to do what was best for her, it was still upsetting to be taken away from Liam. After a few minutes, however, she became very focused on the details of the examination before her.

The doctor led her through some basic questions about how she was feeling. Once Sophie assured them that she had not suffered any lasting damage, the doctors set to checking her for any other concerns. While they ran an ultrasound, an EKG and an entire range of other tests that seemed far too extensive, the nurse called the doctor's attention to Sophie's back. The bruising from her altercation with Neville a few days ago was slowly fading but perked the attention of the nurse and doctor.

She turned to Sophie, who was sitting on top of the examination table. "Dear, this looks like..." she muttered, inspecting it closer.

"It's from a couple days ago. I got a little clobbered during a polo match."

The doctor made a noncommittal sound before glancing over at her colleague. They exchanged a knowing nod, and Sophie could tell that they did not believe her, but thankfully, they decided not to pursue it further.... until they did.

"How did this happen," the doctor finally asked.

Sophie did not give an immediate response; but knew she was not going to tell them that she was attacked. Especially not since she was certain it would probably get back to Liam.

"Just the result of a hard collision. Nothing out of the ordinary in polo," Sophie lied, knowing they must have noticed the bruising on her back and side.

"Does this hurt when I press on it?" the doctor asked, pressing a cold stethoscope on her back. Sophie cringed and had to bite down a yelp of pain as the stethoscope was pressed right onto a deep bruise. "Hm." The doctor made another noncommittal sound and gently prodded a little lower on her back, much to Sophie's distress.

"Oh, oh no ... that hurts," she whimpered. The doctors noted that one of her vertebrae was a bit tender and her muscles seemed pretty knotted up. Sophie could almost cry from the agony of the touch.

The doctors left the room and a moment later the nurse returned to escort Sophie into a private recovery room. After closing the door the nurse left her alone in the room. Sophie closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh. Although she had not sustained any real physical damage from her experience at the university attack, the memory of the encounter with Neville and being apart from Liam drained her energy entirely. For the time being, she should rest and heal her wounded psyche. The wait ended suddenly, and the doctor poked her head in to explain she would talk to Liam, after all, and then a quick wink before disappearing again.

After the doctor left, Sophie closed her eyes for what seemed like only a minute but was likely much longer. She awoke to find Liam in the recovery room with her, holding her hand. He sat beside her and listened intently while she relayed every excruciating detail of what had happened after the polo match. As her story reached its dark crescendo, her emotions got the better of her, and tears threatened to fall. That is when he took her in his arms, and she rested her head on his chest.

It was just the two of them, and the outside world had faded away. Every inch of the worry and fear was exposed, and the next flood of relief swept over each of them with a deep sense of cathartic comfort. Liam caressed her arm, "thank you for sharing this with me, Sophie."

In his mind, Liam wondered why she did not tell him about Neville's attack earlier at the Beaumont estate. But instead of asking directly, he chose to guide her in a more gentle way.

Her statement is calm, reasonable and meant as an explanation, not an apology. Liam stared at her a moment, remembering the conversation.

"I was planning to ... but couldn’t find the right moment. That night, you were asking me to marry you and ... and then ... then that was the farthest thing from my mind.” She said bluntly, watching his reaction carefully.

Remembering the pure joy on her face in their special spot by the river, remembering how elated she had looked while her words saying "yes" rang through his heart.

He hung his head and let his hands rub along her arms and finally joined around her shoulders to pull her in.

"Yeah, you should have," she quipped. There was a hint of playfulness and teasing in her tone, trying to ease the heaviness in the room.

"I should have taken you to Italy with me," he whispered. His voice full of remorse and regret.

A smile curled around Sophie's lips.

Liam laughed heartily, shaking his head. “My cheeky little monkey.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her as Sophie breathed him in, overwhelmed by the rich smell of his cologne. How it clung to his skin and radiated from his very essence.

"But seriously, Liam. I was able to fight him off and he fled.” Liam contemplated, stoically, how to react. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her. How could he not punish someone who had hurt her? Neville had it out for her ... to attack her in broad daylight and risk harming her in such an egregious manner? But then he paused, thinking about Sophie's perspective. She was a stranger in a foreign land, thinking that she had no recourse or rights. As far as she was concerned, no justice would come.

Sophie extended a hand toward Liam. Their eyes locked and he swallowed hard. His blood began to boil. His intense expression caused a look of concern on her face. The image of Neville attacking her was burned into his brain. A dozen things that he could have done to make sure this would not have happened flashed through his mind.

Liam placed a calming hand atop hers, saying, "That can't happen. You should know that you can come to me for anything. I am always available for you and there will always be a means of communication. Just for you. If you are in distress, please come to me right away. I can't promise what we would do at once, but I would ensure we investigate and take every necessary precaution to avoid it happening ever again. Especially not to the future queen of Cordonia. It is an insult to me and to the Crown."

His words lingered a moment in silence as he locked eyes with Sophie and held her chin up in his gentle touch. He was proud and thankful she told him everything and grateful for her strength to fight. At the same time, it deeply troubled and rattled him knowing how bad and in danger she had been. From someone in his court, nonetheless.

"In my mind, it makes sense, as the future queen of Cordonia ... You need to be protected from any sort of harm. So, I have decided to assign a personal bodyguard as well as putting you under the protection of the crown," he stated, sounding protective and determined.

Sophie didn't respond right away. Her first instinct was to reject the offer, but she paused and let his words sink in. "I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone watching out for me. Someone who could be on my side who I could trust.r"

"Trust me, Sophie. Your new guard will be the best choice for you," smiling at her fondly. "With their expertise, they can ensure your safety at all times. And ... it wouldn't hurt for you to get to know them and learn from them too."

Liam wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "Especially if I can't be there to personally be your bodyguard." He winked and grinned suggestively.

She smiled at his teasing and hugged him back, "thank you for everything, Liam. Thank you for rescuing me, for your unwavering support and for believing in me."

He gave her a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. "There is nothing to thank me for, it is the least I can do. Being able to have a true, loving partner by my side, in sickness and health, to love, honor and cherish above myself. It is my pleasure. I'm only trying to hold up my end of the bargain and you're the woman I want to have a future with ... only you."

Gazing lovingly at each other, Liam drew her toward him, as she nestled against his chest. His hand on her hair, twirling his fingers through a tendril, sending shivers through her. Their faces tilted to face each other again and he cupped her chin in his hand, his eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes, Sophie leaned in toward him and their lips met in the perfect balance between longing, passion and desire. It was just enough and yet not ... in perfect unison.

They did not pull away until the nurse had entered to announce that the Royal doctor was coming to discuss the test results, after which Sophie was all set to go home. Then they exchanged another glance of admiration. Liam tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and caressed the side of her face, letting his fingers wander to her chin where he raised her gaze to meet his.

"I need you to always feel safe and remember, you will always come first to me, and there will never be anything, or anyone, more important," Liam placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist and rested a palm on her cheek, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb.

"I love you so much," she whispered, drawing his lips to hers for another brief kiss. She kept her eyes closed for a moment afterwards, resting in the blissfulness of their private moment together. Then her eyelashes fluttered open, and she was greeted by a pair of blue eyes as bright and brilliant as a winter sky. Liam's hand stroked her cheek softly, brushing away a tendril of hair that had gotten loose in the tumult of the day.

Sophie giggled as the nurse wheeled the EMG (electromyography) machine into her room, breaking their embrace. She frowned, unsure why Liam didn't seem like he'd heard the sound. As she turned, Liam mouthed the words again.

"I love you."

She smiled at him fondly, shaking her head. Everything felt like it was finally returning to normal and now it was just them, taking everything at their own pace.

She couldn't hear the nurse or the doctor's soft comments. It all seemed like white noise to her. It didn't even faze her when the doctor jokingly swatted Liam's hand from her own before they began hooking Sophie up to some more equipment for the nerve conduction study.

All Sophie could focus on was Liam. The fact that he was smiling down at her, the way his hand fell on hers as he absently squeezed and let go in a calming rhythm. Everything was all about him, his presence. Sophie could no longer imagine her life without him. Liam seemed to agree. Everything in his expression was pure bliss. The sight warmed her from within, a warmth that radiated in her core, even stronger than that of the adoration, or perhaps, something more.

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