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.
2. We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other
AU: The events of Thor 1 never happen. Thor ascends to the throne, with Loki as his closest confidante and highest advisor.
“Thor,” Loki hisses, tugging weakly at the King’s grip ‘round his wrist. “This is ridiculous. You have women to court–”
“The women can wait for one measly song,” Thor interrupts, pulling Loki farther onto the dance floor. “Besides, who says I cannot take my first dance as King with my Grand Vizier? Come on, Loki, just one song. It will be like it was when we were boys.”
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
Greed! I like it! Excellent combo provided by greed.
Prompts: I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth, and Oh, my God, I thought you were going to die. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.
The two of them are on Vanaheim, and should be enjoying what was meant to be a leisurely climb up through the mountains in search of a rare herb for Loki’s potion stores, but it had taken a turn for the worse when Thor had ventured out onto a narrow ledge above a sheer drop, lost his footing, and fell out of sight with a shout.
After the initial shock, Loki hadn’t been too concerned (they’d gotten into worse scrapes, after all), but then he’d seen Mjolnir still sitting on the ground next to their campfire where Thor had left her, and waited… and waited… and when she made no move to return to Thor’s hand, the panic had crept in all at once and sent him running to the edge, calling after his brother frantically but unable to see him. Five gut-wrenching minutes had gone by this way, and Loki had nearly decided to start climbing down himself, but then he’d heard a pained grunt and a thud, and Thor had appeared over the edge a moment later, dirty and bleeding from a scrape along his forehead, but whole.
Now, after Loki has dragged Thor to his feet, shoved him up against the side of the cliff, and told him off for being a reckless idiot and scaring Loki half to death, his heart rate has begun to slow and even out, and he lets his gaze fall to Thor’s mouth, where his bottom lip has been bloodied.
“It’s alright, brother. I’m fine,” Thor says for the fifth time, and Loki ignores him, reaching up to dab away the blood with the edge of his sleeve, but the skin beneath it is unbroken.
“It’s just from my head, I think,” Thor tells him, voice low and quiet, lips brushing against the heel of Loki’s hand as he speaks. “I’m alright, Loki. I promise.”
His anger and anxiety have faded into background noise, but the adrenalin still has him lightheaded and giddy, and so he decides to blame that when he removes his hand kisses Thor soundly.
He supposes that Thor must be feeling the same rush, since he wastes no time in kissing him back.
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.
Thor looked him up and down. He was skinny, pale, too young and too fragile to be in a place like this. He was pretty too, with his pouting mouth and large green eyes. He’d look even better after a shower with the grime and grease washed out of his hair.
“Yeah? Because there are a lot of guys in here who are going to want to break your ass in.”
The kid stiffened, but he didn’t let his haughty look drop.
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
Thor patted the spot next to him on his bunk.
“I won’t hurt you. I don’t want anything from you. I’m just offering you my protection. It’s what I’m good at.”
“I heard,” the kid said, but he slunk down next to Thor, pulling his long legs up to his chest like a shield. “You were an enforcer, right? For the Odinsons? The guard told me.”
“You’re chatty,” Thor said.
It wasn’t a compliment.
He manhandled them so they were lying on the bunk, his chest pressed to the kid’s back, his hips to the guy’s ass. Then he grabbed the blanket and threw it over them. Anyone who looked in would think Thor was making use of his pretty new cellmate.
“What’s your name?” he asked. He couldn’t keep calling him the kid.
“Loki.”
“So, you know what I did Loki, what did you do?” Thor asked.
Loki turned his head, looking at him over his shoulder. His smile was disquieting.
“I killed my boyfriend,” he said, so casually that it made the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand on end. “Took over his operation. Brought in more drugs, more girls. Ran it all through this nightclub, Sakaar.”
His green eyes sparkled as he looked at Thor.
“You know, I could use a man like you, Thor. I am going to own this place and you could be my right hand man.”
“And what are you offering in return?” Thor asked.
Loki ground down against him, pushing his pert little ass right up against Thor’s cock.
Thor remembers this. His actions are the same now, storming forward to grab hold of Loki, cupping the back of his neck and stopping his brother from struggling free from his grip. Loki goes pliant under his hold.
This time Thor’s intentions are different. He hasn’t traveled through time to repeat his previous mistakes. He isn’t about to plead with Loki to come back to Asgard, isn’t about to risk losing him again.
He isn’t going to let Thanos kill his brother again.
They land on the mountain top and Thor doesn’t argue with Loki this time. He crowds into his space, looming over him and forcing Loki back against the rocks.
“I know,” he says. “I know who sent you here. I know what he plans.”
Loki says nothing. His mouth opens and he stares at Thor, but he doesn’t speak, rendered mute by his fear.
“Yo,” Stark calls, landing behind them and Thor doesn’t bother looking at him. “Look, I’m sure you’re thrilled to see your boyfriend here, but he kind of killed some people so we gotta take him in.”
“This is my brother,” Thor snarls, finally sparing Stark a glance.
So I was going to work on cosplay stuff instead of writing today but I woke up with a miserable cold and didn’t feel like getting off the couch so here’s this! These tropes should have wound up with something light and cute but this is me we’re talking about.
OK, now I really want to know how this turns out. I mean, I’ve sort of worked out an ending in my head, but I’m curious as to how you envisioned things turning out.
Here is one of the pieces I’ve been dilly dallying on for three months! ^^’’ I’m quite happy how it turned out, though! And it pacifies my love for witchcraft.
Loki is the Philosopher King 
