Marvel Boyfriend Scenarios

Loki Laufeyson

There is nothing friendly about the snow outside; it falls thick and fast enough to blind any traveller by foot or vehicle. The gale whips each flake, so pretty on its own, into a projectile that hurts unguarded skin. The sky above has none of the light that noon-time should have, so thick are the black clouds. And the sound, dear God, the sound, like one wind-chime taking the force these almost hurricane force winds. 'Blizzard' hardly seems an adequate enough word for the apocalyptic nightmare of the outside world. So I draw the curtains shut and pad over to the fire, a fuzzy (F/C) blanket drawn tightly around my shoulders. The wood-fire, blazes cheerily in the ample fireplace, sending its warmth and light far out into the room, flashing red reflections in the curiously twisted bars of the brass fireguard - casting long and crooked shadows around me. Flicking on the TV, my legs give out and I collapse into the pile of pillows - focusing on the crackling voices of Finn and Jake on the long cancelled show's reruns. The windows moan and groan from the pressure of the wind outside, I duck further under my blanket defence.

Loki said he'd be here by now. I stare at the closed curtains and take in every stitch, every plant-like embroidered pattern on their otherwise bland cream expanse. I then avert my gaze to the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. They alternate between glowing and dimming, creating constantly changing spatters of rainbows across the walls. It reflects off the cheap plastic used to form each bristle that coats the metal wiring, banded together on tiers - each wider than the last.
"I thought I said to get a real tree this year, fake ones are just . . . tacky." a familiar voice sneers, I jump to my feet and frantically search the room; my (E/C) eyes finally land on a pair of glistening green ones. His eyes are more than plain old green. They are the green that brings the earth back to life after an unforgiving cold. The green that revives grass from the harsh conditions of winter. The green that, even in the darkest times can be that light that shows you the way home. The beacon of hope in the dreariest of days. And here, in this moment. I know the true answer. I have already found my home. For now, I have figured it out. Home is wherever I can find it. Home is with him, "Well are you just going to stare at me all day?" he sasses.
"Well~" I tease; he just rolls his eyes and stalks over, sweeping me off my feet in one swift motion - spinning us round and then placing me down again. His chilly breath tickles my cheeks as it splays across my face, tingles shoot down my spine at the gentle caress of his fingers as he brushes a few strands of (H/C) from my eyes.

Though his lips are pretty, it is the feel of them that sends my mind into a sensual state of intoxication. That's why I reach toward his face and touch them lightly before the urge to kiss him takes over. He knows that once he kisses my neck my resistance will crumble. I feel a cold breath on my neck, then the tender brush of lips. Somehow burning as they make contact with my neck. A hand runs through my hair, as the kisses become harder and more urgent. Another hand slides around my waist, and pulls me close to his thin but strong body. His kisses travel to my shoulders and in my hair. I gasp at his touch, but suddenly he breaks away and rests his forehead against mine. I take in the scent of sun-warmed woods and hay, a touch of leather, a hint of woodsmoke. It's a very 'golden' scent that reminds me of wind blowing over open fields on a sunny day in late summer; baffling considering his heritage. From this angle I absorb every detail: from his porcelain flesh to his hair that shines like the sea at night, the black strands utterly white where the rays of light from the tree over yonder fall. As he moves, so do those brilliant bands, like echoes of the northern lights. My (E/C) gaze wanders upwards to the marvellously glittering golden helmet still atop his head, the long sharp protrusions giving it a majestic elegance yet a threatening intimidatory aspect. The intimidation, however, is negated by the outrageous hot pink bulbs intermingled with the horns, they are emitting an eyesore of an aura - a deep chuckle resonates in my throat developing into an all out cackle; Loki deadpans at the sight. Tony Stark, you son of a bitch.

As spontaneously as it started, my laughter is silenced by the lips I've known for what feels like eons. He drags me to the floor and dramatically swipes my blanket, enveloping us both within its clutches. In the darkness our cuddles are like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. I wish I could extend the night just so I could stay close to him for longer, safe in his embrace. His arms wrap right around me bringing a peace I've never known before, a calming of the storms in my heart. I think it's Loki that gives me hope for the future. In his embrace I start to believe that there is nothing out there to fear, that all there is is sunshine, beautiful trees and kind people - friends to be. But then he leaves, often before the sun is fully risen in the sky and I must stand alone again, be my own person. His cuddles are the only medicine I need, they are the light in the darkness, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky. Hence why I drain the moment of every last drop of love before he's whisked away on another escapade; my grip tightens.
"Don't worry my dear, for tonight I stay. I dare not leave your side for a long time now; yet even when we do part, I remain right here my love." He presses a finger to my chest, lingering over my heart. I know. I can feel you when you're gone, so in a way . . . you're never gone.

Word count: 1064