Prompt: Wait, my hero’s secret identity is… you? To be honest, I’d always kind of hoped…
Fantasy AU, sfw, and long enough for a cut!
As far as this situation is concerned, Loki knows three things with certainty.
One: his new and already favored blacksmith has been flirting with him. It’s subtle, but quite clear. And though Loki has been spending far too much gold on custom daggers and mail and bits of armor that he’s never bothered with before (as though any self-respecting sorcerer would wear it), Thor hasn’t even offered him dinner and drinks, much less his bed. Not after dozens of compliments, not after he’d had started wearing his breeches tight enough to be uncomfortable, and not even after Loki had enchanted his forge to maintain its own temperature totally free of charge.
But the interest is there. He’s sure of it. It’s just a matter of finding out what’s holding the man back.
Two: this Mystery Knight everyone’s aflutter over is tall, broad, and wears some of the most beautifully crafted armor Loki has ever seen. He’s only had the one glimpse, but it was quite telling, the fine details of his plate and winged helmet standing out like a beacon, and the fact that the knight wields a hammer is just too much for coincidence.
(Also, and most intriguing of all, Loki’s heard from three different young ladies that had had the good fortune to be rescued by him that all attempts to thank him with affection and special favors had been politely but firmly rejected. “He told me that my beauty was prodigious,” one had told Loki, still heartbroken, “but he could never love a maiden in such a way.”)
And three: provoking a dragon in order to be saved by a masked hero who’s secretly the new blacksmith in town in order to bed the new blacksmith in town was a terrible idea.
So… if they want Thanos to be the new Darth Vader… can’t we have at the end of Avengers 4 a big feast in Wakanda with everyone safe and sound getting drunk and dancing around the fire like the one at the end of “Return of the jedi”? …no? Well a girl can dream…
I imagine old Thor to grasp Loki’s hand every time they are together cause he’s afraid that his brother would slip away leaving him forever so he squeezes hard and never lets go. Sometimes Loki doesn’t mind this gesture and holds Thor’s hand back.
And what if one day, as they are both sitting like in the picture, Thor squeezes Loki’s hand and then it relaxes his grip, so Loki looks at him with a smile because he’s in a teasing mood, only to find Thor’s eyes meeting his, unfocused, still. Loki’s smile vanished and swallows, squeezing back, waiting for a response, anything. Thor’s hand feels limp in his grip, and he knows.
Thor has left him.
But Loki, being Loki, gives a final sigh of relief as he lets go of the last of his seidr, all that’s been tethering him to life for centuries now, knowing that finally, in death, he and Thor will never be parted. This one last act of selflessness has guaranteed him his place next to Thor in the afterlife. The Universe is in balance at long last…
This was beautiful… my heart is hurting and I need a hug
Prompt: We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair
Damn, I’m a sucker for bed-sharing.
Being royalty should afford them certain privileges, Thor would have said with certainty yesterday evening, but when the owner of the inn had shown them to a tiny room in the attic with one bed and a pail in one corner to catch the rainwater leaking in through the roof, he’d been forced to reevaluate.
Thor had protested, then threatened, and when neither of those worked, Loki had attempted flattery and charm, but the innkeeper had only waved a hand at them dismissively, said, “Take it or don’t—I’m going back to bed,” and shuffled back down the stairs.
Now, with the morning light filling the room and his brother’s elbow lodged firmly in his side, Thor stirs with a groan and attempts to settle onto his back. But the bed is narrow, and as soon as he shifts, Loki’s shoving back and mumbling curses under his breath, still half-asleep. It takes some doing (and some pinching), but Thor manages to scoot him over without sustaining serious injury, and once Loki has grumbled his way onto his stomach and given up on vengeance for being disturbed, Thor lies back with a sigh.
It’s early yet, judging by the soft light, and Thor gets lost a moment watching the dust particles in the air while he slowly wakes up, following one tiny speck of fluff as it floats down in a meandering path and settles in Loki’s hair. It’s a bit of a mess, dark curls spread over the pillow, and knowing that Loki will correct that the moment he wakes up, he appreciates the sight of it while he can, and the way the sunlight turns it into a halo when Loki turns his head.
“What?” Loki says, yawning. His eyes are heavy-lidded with sleep, but Thor finds himself fascinated with the play of light on his lashes, the hint of pale green behind them.
Loki is beautiful. He’s always known this. But up close, with his guard down, a hint of stubble on his chin, and parted lips, Thor’s unable to look away.
His tongue appears between his teeth then, a flash of pink as he says Thor’s name in question, and Thor follows it, leaning up and pressing their lips together before he can reconsider.
That Loki only hesitates half a second before responding should tell Thor something very important, but the feel of his brother’s mouth on his, the slide of Loki’s tongue over his lips and hands slipping up his chest, is plenty for now. The way that Loki hums when Thor gets a handful of dark curls and pulls Loki over on top of him is even better.
Loki is the Philosopher King 
