Can’t stop, won’t stop. More Thorki fills
http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5758.html?thread=6353278#t6353278
Mine is the longer fill, When Loki Wins, and When the World Burned. Third part will be posted if there’s interest.
There is no excuse for this. This is what happens when you leave me in a room all day with nothing but Disney music. I get all weird and lovey-dovey and EVERYTHING turns into a Disney princess flick.
This is a mixture of Eidolon Loki, that one kinkmeme prompt about Cinderella and being saturated in Disney all day long. Which is the way I would have it everyday. Huzzah.
Okay. This makes me want
Something ridiculious.
Like a Thor/Loki wedding where everything is unnaturally happy and glorious and free of chargin or despair.
And I know everyone likes to angst till their eyes fall out but honestly? Happy!Loki and Happy!Thorki are my most unfulfilled kinks in the history of all things kinky. Don’t tell me it’s not a kink. Just because I want to see two people in the theroes of complete and total joy with no muss or fuss about how they got there, just with their happy-jams on to the tune of feel-good with no interruption, just all smiles and warm promises and sweet everythings instead of nothings, doesn’t mean it’s not a kink. It is. And it may in fact be the rarest of all kinks because I NEVER FUCKING SEE IT HAPPEN.
If someone could make a fic like this
where they just
are brothers
and are lovers
and are married, with happy!feels for everyone (which doesn’t mean everyone fucking magically approves of course there are bitter motherfuckers and jealousy and envy and fucking shame and spite, all of which are welcome because then they get to be tromped into the ground)
Excuse me while I proceed to sob.
(Not my art! Help me source the pic? Posted to avengerkink here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5102.html?thread=5665262#t5665262)
Tony Stark is rich beyond reason. Really. He has outrageous amounts of money and with said money has purchased every luxury available, including mattresses with silk from egypt stuffed with feathers of birds from the endangered species top ten list. He has the most costly blankets money can buy, with threads from India and embroidery so delicate it physically hurts to think of abusing it, the most comfortable sheets, and in spite of all this, probably directly due to this very fact, no one ever uses Tony’s sheets.
The six of them are clumped together on some nameless brand of futons from Wal-Mart, sharing three mismatched blankets decorated by necessity with hideous fraying patchwork, limbs akimbo in a great graceless sprawl.
There was a general order decided long ago but mostly they take the magnet approach; Thor lies down first, and everyone lies down around him after. The demi-god’s arms are broad and big enough to be pillows for at least four other people.
Steve likes to curl against the big guy’s side so he doesn’t crush anyone if he happens to roll over, and this generally works out since they’re the biggest guys in the room. Whenever Steve gets nightmares he is literally in Thor’s arms and can be tamed back to calmer dreams.
That, and both he and Thor drop off before anyone else, and make good starting points for a pile.
Either Banner or Stark slip in after, sometimes at the same time, still exchanging quiet murmurs all in their own language (usually plain english disguised as physics).
They used to fall asleep forehead to forehead, still murmuring in the dark. Stark has a habit of sprawling, though, and after a few ruinous accidental slaps to Banner around 1am, he’s banished to the other side of the pile. He can sleep-slap Steve all he likes and Steve doesn’t even twitch.
Sometimes he misses and hits Thor, and wakes up in the morning with a bruise on his hand.
Natasha and Clint are last into the pile and last to leave in the morning. No one really knows when they slip between Thor and Banner. Tony claims he saw them one night at 2 AM when he got up for a glass of water. Natasha denies everything and Clint denies nothing, making one of them the liar, but no one cares enough to figure out which of them it is.
They cleave to each other in sleep, usually with Natasha’s head nodding into Thor’s abdomen and Clint’s arms around her waist or hips, but always with his back to Banner. It’s some unspoken agreement that it’s best for Banner to remain on the outskirts of the pile in case anyone sleep-wallops him in the face, but Clint is a rock when he’s unconscious, and Banner has found the unmoving muscle wall of Clint’s back a secure place to rest his own.
There are some nights, though they are erratic to predict and incredibly rare, when Thor gets up gingerly, apologizing to everyone in a gentle rumble like thunder rolling in the distance, and takes just his cape to the roof.
No one needs to ask why he goes, and Tony usually doesn’t forget to tell JARVIS to cancel the alarm.
