Hi everyone! Finally, it is here. After 20 parts, this is the master list.
I had such a blast putting this list together and re-reading many of my favorite fics. As many fics as there are on here, this is just a sample of some of the awesome works out there! There are a ton of other great Loki/Tony fics.
Thank you to all of the amazing Frostiron writers out there! You have made this fandom so fun. You’re all incredibly talented and it is a joy to read your fics! They are some of the best I have read in any fandom.
As always, remember to read the tags! Some of these are smutty, dark, or not friendly to certain characters. If there is something you don’t like, don’t read it!
Enjoy!
Part 1: Asgardian Tony
Part 2: No Powers AU
Part 3: No Powers AU (2nd part)
Part 4: Alternate Universe
Part 5: Alternate Universe (2nd part)
Part 6: Soulmates/Soul Bonds
Part 7: Soulmates/Soul Bonds (2nd part)
Part 8: Time Travel
Part 9: Epics
Part 10: Epics (2nd part)
Part 11: Fluff
Part 12: Fluff (2nd part)
Part 13: Diplomatic Marriage
Part 14: Canon Divergence
Part 15: Canon Divergence (2nd part)
Part 16: Canon Divergence (3rd part)
Part 17: Canon Divergence (4th part)
Part 18: Smut
Part 19: Smut (2nd part)
Part 20: 5+1
Again, thank you to the amazing Frostiron writers! I am tagging some of you here. I wish I knew everyone’s tumblr urls! @rabentochter @amidnight--dreary @quietlyapocalyptic @dls-ao3 @securitybreach @lailyn @mcfiddlestan @kimmycup @arabesqueangel @dendrite-blues @teadrinkingwolfgirl @scottxlogan @the-ice-sculpture @honestmischief @wnnbdarklord @salamanderink @tinydragontony @favreaus
Also tagging some people that like Frostiron and may be interested in reading these fics! @wspaceblog @lostchildofthenewworld @rennemichaels @lokislonelylady @trinityvampire (read their fic Alibi)
If you want to be tagged or want me to remove your tag, let me know!
i think one thing that bridgerton s2 does well is establish why kate and anthony gravitate to each other. so many romance stories flop because they cant convince you what the deal is but bridgerton is like well they are both eldest siblings they are both patronizing and overbearing they are both control freak know it alls. put them in a jar lock them in a room. haha
like here are two characters who are dead set on denying themselves everything they want for the sake of duty and propriety haha what do you think would happen if they meet and want each other. and the answer is fingers in his mouth wednesday (crowd cheering)
sorry sorry but i also like how the source of their self denial & fixation on duty is similar but not identical — kate feels indebted to her mother for treating her like a “real” daughter and so feels like she owes both her and edwina total devotion at the cost of her own happiness, whereas anthony thinks the best way to avoid subjecting others and himself to the inevitable grief that is the price of loving people is to merely like them instead of love them. & they both suddenly lose a (loving) father and have to support their mother through their grief but he takes it as “ok ill just never love my partner then” and she takes it as “ok ill just never have a partner then.” i love romance when its good?
bran’s aspirations for knighthood and the kingsguard specifically and how their stories were music to his ears and how he romanticizes them and how it is repeated over and over again in his chapters that those dreams were crushed due to him being crippled is one of my favorite tragedies in the series. he was robbed of his dreams by the man that became as vile as he is primarily because of his experience and disillusionment with those same heroes that he romanticized very similarly and the corrupt moral and ethical frameworks they exist within. i also like it in terms of emotional weight and how terrible it makes jaime’s act. he was the one that killed the boy this time. he killed “the boy that wanted to be ser arthur dayne.”
Ironstrange prompt - Stephen has had visions and/or can see spirits since childhood.
The visions start indistinct, easy to dismiss when morning comes.
Then he dreams of Donna hurt in the cornfield. The next day, Donna’s foot catches in a groundhog’s burrow. The leg fracture is not terrible and she heals quickly, but Stephen knows.
Three years later he refuses to let her go the the lake just beyond the farm. She argues, but eventually concedes. The next night Stephen dreams of her older and smiling. He’s never dreamt of her this old before and knows she’ll live.
She is the only one he ever tells the truth.
Sometimes he dreams of the future in terms of days, but sometimes… he sees a man in the mirror and knows that someday gray will touch his temples and his hands will shake, scars lining his fingers.
He can avoid it, the way he avoided Donna’s death. The dreams change, showing time undone. He doesn’t understand, but he stops planning.
He’s twenty-four when the man enters his dreams, always dying. Stephen’s heart breaks in his chest every time; he knows the pain will never go away.
He will never fall in love, he decides. Love might break him.
Donna decides she’s going to change the world. Stephen hasn’t dreamt it, but he believes her. He smiles when she applies to a charity outreach program.
She comes home to the little apartment they share, smile bright. She’d met the man who founded the charity and impressed him, she tells Stephen. She’d been hired on the spot.
His name is Tony Stark.
That night, Stephen dreams of the dying man—younger, vibrant. Stephen’s heart pounds in his chest, beating with a love that Stephen doesn’t yet feel.
Love will break his heart and Stephen refuses.
In his dreams, the man smiles at him and Stephen’s determination wavers.
bran’s aspirations for knighthood and the kingsguard specifically and how their stories were music to his ears and how he romanticizes them and how it is repeated over and over again in his chapters that those dreams were crushed due to him being crippled is one of my favorite tragedies in the series. he was robbed of his dreams by the man that became as vile as he is primarily because of his experience and disillusionment with those same heroes that he romanticized very similarly and the corrupt moral and ethical frameworks they exist within. i also like it in terms of emotional weight and how terrible it makes jaime’s act. he was the one that killed the boy this time. he killed “the boy that wanted to be ser arthur dayne.”
Something I'm working for @the-elle-kat! A Sugardaddy A/B/O in which Tony (omega) ran away from home at 19 when he was pregnant, and since then has been leaping from crappy part-time jobs to make ends meet.
Stephen (Alpha) a famous, and rich, neurosurgeon has been looking for a caregiver for his mother, who is paralysed from the waist down after a horse riding accident.
When Tony turns up to interview for Beverly Strange's caregiver, Stephen immediately wants to turn him away, especially when Tony brings his young daughter with him.
I'm hoping to have this 70k turned 120K word story up in the next month or two!
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Stephen grumbled to himself as he dug his fingers into the tight knots on either side of his neck, considering booking himself in for a massage, he stopped at the threshold of his living room, eyes narrowing when he saw who was sitting at the dining room table.
The child.
She was writing something into a book, humming gently under her breath with her small feet swinging. He could go into his bedroom to work, back to the hospital, any other room that didn’t involve a small child invading his personal space, but this was his home and he wasn’t going to let himself be chased out by a child.
Circling the table whilst keeping an eye on her movements, he saw the moment she noticed him. Her feet stopped swinging as a tiny hand reached out to clutch a soft toy perched beside her book.
Carefully, as if she were a rabid animal or something, Stephen placed his patient files down at the very corner of the table, waiting for her to strike, to say anything, before he silently pulled his chair out, still watching her.
Don’t make any sudden movements.
Taking his seat, he spread his papers out, careful not to invade her little corner of the table. Peeping up at him through the bangs of her hair, she bit her bottom lip in curiosity as she watched him.
He should’ve offered her a smile, been kind to her like he was with his child patients, but he couldn’t make himself do it, staring at her until she backed down, returning to her workbook. Appreciating the silence, Stephen began writing notes in the margin of the files, losing himself in test results, CT scans, treatment plans, focused on nothing other than how he could help the people under his care.
After a long while, Stephen placed his pen down, shaking out his hands and looking around for his clock, pausing his movements when he saw the girl still working, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she concentrated.
He’d completely forgotten about her.
Begrudgingly, Stephen could admit she was cute, and she hadn’t caused him any issues since they’d moved into his penthouse.
With a start, Stephen realized he couldn’t remember her name, that he knew nothing of this small girl who had been living with him for over two months now. Her toys didn’t spill out into the rest of the penthouse, nothing had been broken by her hand, she was a ghost in his home.
Getting to his feet, he caught the slight flinch from her, and he froze, horror trickling into the pit of his stomach in frigid droplets.
She was scared of him.
Quickly coming to a decision, he left the room for the kitchen, leaving the adjoining door open so she could see him. Placing a mug beneath the coffee machine and searching his cupboards, smiling to himself when he found what he was looking for. While he waited for his coffee, he shot fugitive glances over his shoulder, wondering if fear would make her flee.
Watching the coffee percolate, he was transported back to his own childhood, the way he used to tiptoe around his father, hiding beneath his bed when he could hear him downstairs in one of his moods, swearing and slamming doors.
His original distaste of their whole situation, her unqualified parent working for him had nothing to do with her, and yet he’d been punishing her for it, refusing to interact with her despite his mother obviously being smitten with her.
It hadn’t been difficult to put together a mosaic of understanding from the pieces of information he knew about them, could remember how his chest had ached in sympathy at her limited amount of possessions, how excited she had been about having another book to add to her meagre collection.
The pair of them were here to stay for the foreseeable future, did he really want her terrified of him?
Memory made him lift his hand to touch his cheek, a phantom tingling sensation of where his father used to slap him, where Stephen’s excitement and pride at receiving high grades had been slowly worn down into shame and eventually resentment.
Looking through the door, he watched he look around the living room with wide frightened eyes, looking over her shoulder to the door to the hallway, listening for something before she looked back down at her workbook, clearly torn.
He was treading his father’s footsteps.
Bringing his drink back to the table, he stretched out and placed a mug in front of her, smiling as her huge eyes looked at him.
She has beautiful eyes, just like Stark’s.
He’d never wanted kids, didn’t know how to interact with them, struggled with children of patients, his own juvenile patients, but looking down at this small girl now, her eyes brimming with tears, all he could think of was himself being frightened of his father.
‘It’s warm milk, would you like something else instead?’ He made his voice as low and as soothing as he could make it, smiling at her when she shook her head. ‘Sure? I might have some cocoa powder around here.’
She perked up at that, the tears fading as a small smile touched the corner of her lips.
‘Please,’ she whispered, offering him back the mug.
‘No problem, do you like marshmallows?’
‘What’s marsh allows?’
‘Give me a minute, and I’ll show you.’
Rummaging through his cupboards, he found what he was looking for, a gag gift from Wong that he’d stashed at the very back, the packet dusty. Checking it for the best-before date, he opened it, popping a few in his mouth as he stirred the cocoa powder into the milk. When was the last time he’d had cocoa?
Stephen couldn’t remember, the only memory he could recall was sitting in front of the fire back home with Donna, sipping at their drinks as they watched cartoons one morning. Making a decision, he pulled down another mug from the cupboard to make a matching drink, sprinkling a generous number of marshmallows into both.
‘There you go, let me know what you think.’
‘They’re pink,’ the girl told him, scrunching her nose.
‘You don’t like pink?’ Stephen asked, leaning back in his chair as he blew over his drink.
‘Yucky,’ she told him, taking the mug in both hands and copying him, her breath creating small ripples.
Didn’t I ask for the spare bedroom to be decorated in pink? Stephen tried to remember. He’d ignored the expense as it came in at the end of the month, uncaring of how the child’s bedroom had been kitted out. Stephen didn’t understand why she hadn’t said anything, why Stark hadn’t said anything.
‘They’re squishy,’ she told him delight, giggling to herself and doing a happy wriggle in her chair.
‘I’m glad you like them. I’ll keep an eye out for white marshmallows next time. What are you working on?’
‘Letters,’ she told him with an enormous sigh, placing her drink down and offering him her workbook.
Morgan.
Her name was Morgan.
‘Those look really good. I can see you’ve been working hard at them,’ he told her, genuine with his praise, his smiling stretching wider at the very faint blush he got.
Hunching over her drink, she sipped at it, eyes going wide at the taste before she tried to drink more, sticking her tongue out as she inevitably burnt it.
He chuckled, before holding his hands up as she glared at him, trying to show he wasn’t trying to be cruel.
‘You look like a little gremlin like that,’ he said, laughing out loud at her frown.
‘Gemmin,’ she chuckled to herself, nodding to herself.
‘Did you just call my daughter a gremlin?’
He hadn’t heard the omega in the doorway, couldn’t scent him, and he felt himself tense at the accusation. Ready to defend himself he glanced up, lips parting as he took in the man watching them both. He was smiling, gaze soft as he watched his daughter, but it was the t-shirt he was drowning in that caught Stephen’s attention, the sharp jut of collarbones, the damp curling hair around his ears.
‘Daddy!’ Morgan squeaked, holding her mug out and using her hand to point. ‘Arsh allows.’
