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letpairos · 1 year ago

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Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?” he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later.

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh.

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly.

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar.

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say.

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee.

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

#fanfic #rereading

7K notes · View notes

letpairos · 1 year ago

Note

i would loveeee a loki x ofc one shot where she secretly has a thing for how much stronger loki is and how he can just pick her up easily, and one day he notices that she has a strength kink 🫣🫣

Strong

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Words: 9.5K

Warnings: A teeny bit of smut

Story Rating: Explicit (kind of), 18+ only

Chapter Summary: You have a thing for your new boyfriend and he has a thing for you.

A/N: This is my first short story so please bear with me. Enjoy this 20 page treat since there's not much romance going on in F&F yet. IDEK how I came up with all of this from a “I want strong Loki to pick me up” ask 😂. Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

You and Loki met at a small, cute Italian bakery. You were working there as a part-time pastry chef while in school, but you ended up working close to full-time hours as the bakery needed more help and you needed more money to be able to afford to stay in school while living in New York City.

He would come by the shop every once in the blue moon, his god of thunder brother almost dragging the grumpy dark haired man behind him. You could tell that he didn’t want to be there, always grumbling to Thor and avoiding any kind of human interaction. If anyone dared to ask him a question, he’d throw a severely menacing look their way and they were out of the door in a heartbeat. He never spoke to anyone who worked at the shop, and barely even glanced your way.

You were okay with that though, as you weren’t bothered by his presence as much as he was bothered by everyone else's. As long as he wasn’t hurting anyone, he could do whatever he wanted.

Then he started coming by the bakery without Thor. You were surprised to see him there by himself, catching him sitting at a table in the corner by the window on slow evenings. He even came by on the wildly rainy days when there was a lack of customers because of the bad weather.

He never ordered anything and you never asked him to because you didn't want to bother him. He seemed to be at some sort of peace when he was left alone.

After several weeks of him frequenting your little shop, one day you gathered the courage to speak to him, cautiously walking up to his table and asking him if wanted a sample of the mini strawberry muffins that were left for the day. He was staring outside of the rainy window as if in a trance, brows set in a slight furrow.

You didn't know if he was purposely ignoring you or if he simply did not hear you when he didn't respond, gloomy eyes still focused on the outside world. He didn’t move an inch or even acknowledge you. You were usually the type of person who would just walk away whenever customers ignored you, going to the back of house to lick your wounds, but this time you tried again, calling out to him.

“Sir?” you repeated and he finally tore his gaze away from the glass and focused on you, glancing at you as if he’s never seen you before which was strange because you were usually here every time he visited.

He observed you with a guarded expression but you could see the curiosity floating about in his jade green eyes, causing you to push the tray closer to him and ask again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you. I just have a couple of samples left for the day and wanted to know if you’d like to try some before they’re gone.”

He finally tore his gaze away from you and glanced at the small golden tray you held out in front of you. He looked at it for a few more seconds before meeting your smiling face once again. When it looked like he was going to pass on your offer, you were persistent.

“If you're worried about these being old, I promise you they aren’t. I just took these out of the oven so they are as fresh as can be.” You assured him.

His eyes narrowed slightly before he raised a brow, “Did you not just say that they were all that was left for the day? If that is so, how can these have been freshly made.” He eyed the tray, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, they, um, were the last batch made.” You stammered.

“How long ago?”

You scratched the back of your head. “Um, about 15-20 minutes.”

He smirked and you sigh, feeling bad that you got caught in a lie the very first time you’ve spoken to the man.

“Fine, they're not samples. They’re freshly baked. It's a slow day and I was just trying out a new recipe. You’re the only person here besides me,” and your napping manager, Marc, in the back. “and I thought it may lighten up your mood on a rainy day.”

You cursed inwardly when he narrowed his eyes at you, realizing how that sounded. “Not that you were in a bad mood or anything like that. I just know rainy days can be a bit of a downer.”

He hummed before pivoting his head towards the window again. “I find it quite relaxing.”

You nodded. “Yeah, me too actually. It’s kind of like a peaceful melancholy.”

His head turned back to you, an indiscernible twinkle in his eyes. “You are a strange creature.”

You blinked and sent him an unsure smile. “Um.. thank you?”

He smirks and eyed the muffins that still sat on the tray you held. Grabbing one, he bit into it and chewed for a bit before lightly humming. Before you knew it, the muffin was gone, only the small colorful paper wrapper remained and you took it from him.

He looked at you and nodded before turning back to the window. You stood there for a few more seconds, not being sure what to do next, wondering if he liked it or not. Deciding that you’ve invaded his space for long enough, you backed away and retreated to your spot behind the counter, satisfied with how the first interaction went with your mysterious customer.

After that day, he continued to visit the shop to your relief. You had hoped that the small interaction you had with him did not run him off, as you heard he was not much of a fan of humans, or Earth, or much of anything. He even started to visit several days in a row now, when before he would only visit a couple times a week at most.

Though he rarely ever made conversation, but sometimes your eyes caught and you would send him a polite smile. Usually he’d simply look away and pretend that he did not see you. Other times you thought you’d catch a ghost of a smile on his lips.

It stayed like this for a while, for about another month or so. Him keeping you company by being the only patron in the shop on slow evenings, and you mustering up the courage to go ply him with free treats every once in a while.

This was your little routine until one day when your boss's boss, the district manager, had randomly decided to visit the store. You didn’t know exactly when she would arrive, but you knew that this was around the time of the season when she would drop by for a brief visit and had hoped that your boss would be here when she did, but he just so happened to be out running errands at the time.

Loki was the only patron in the shop when Melissa stepped in, already having had a sour look on her face. She was a middle aged woman with brunette hair fixed into a slick updo and glasses. Her short heels clacked loudly against the floor as she walked towards the counter, grabbing your attention. You were in the back collecting the ingredients for the vanilla bean scones you had to bake tonight but quickly trotted to the front when you heard the familiar noise of someone coming into the bakery.

“Good Afternoon ma’am, how are you doing today-”

“Why was no one behind the counter?” Were the first words that came out of her mouth. “I expect a greeting as soon as I walk in. Every customer should be greeted before they even step both feet through that door.” She snapped.

You blinked, taken aback by her strong demeanor before you gathered yourself, fixing your face and standing up straighter. “Oh, I'm very sorry. I was just working on the pastries that are due by the morning while my manager is out, but I'm happy to-.”

“That’s absolutely no excuse. You should be on alert for customers every single second you're here. Anything less and it’s considered bad customer service.” She sneered, taking a moment to look around the mostly empty cafe.

“And why is it so vacant here? Where are all your patrons?” You frowned, thinking she must have not seen Loki sitting in the corner.

“Well it’s much later in the day now, and weekday evenings are not our busiest time. We usually have many customers during our peak hours from seven to three.” You carefully explain.

“Maybe you’d have more customers in the evenings if you had better customer service.” She sourly retorts, scrutinizing you with disdain.

Loki had been half listening to your conversation up until the point where the woman was questioning your work ethic. His gaze slid over to where you both stood, you behind the counter with a shocked look on your face and the judgy bit-.... woman on the other side. He knew you could hold your own against grumpy customers that popped into the shop every once in a while.

He never felt the need to interject, as it was not his place. He even started to grow a tiny bit of admiration for how you handled every single one of the bad interactions with kindness, and never let them change how you spoke to them in return. You somehow even managed to get him to talk to you, which was a feat in itself as he despised humans and did his best to avoid them at all cost.

However, there was only so long he could stay within the vicinity of the Avengers, as he couldn’t stand being around them, not even his own brother. Odin had sent him here with Thor as his babysitter in order for Loki to grow an appreciation for humans, hoping that he’d accept the Midgardians as they are, and in turn have a better relationship with them for the sake of peace and camaraderie in the nine realms.

The Midgardians were getting stronger in their technology and space exploration, causing Odin to have conjured up this idea for purely selfish reasons. Loki thought this plan was ludicrous, as he would never get along with or willingly share the same space with mortals and there was no need to pretend otherwise. He was just waiting out his time on this rotten planet until Odin allowed him to return back to Asgard. It could be years until that was decided, meanwhile Loki did his best to avoid Thor and any human on this planet until it was time for him to go home. He had patience.

Of course it seemed odd for him to be out in the city alone in a small bakery of all places, but he found himself being more at peace here than anywhere else. He absolutely hated being around the Avengers and despised being in the tower or the ridiculous expansive compound that was hidden in upstate New York. He’d rather pass the days somewhere where no one would be able to find him easily. Thor was the one who introduced him to this place, but it was completely by accident. Anything sweet and sugary could capture the golden brute’s attention, and the scent that wafted through the open doors of the cafe when they were passing by on a chilly fall day basically pulled Thor through the entrance, Loki reluctantly following behind. They came to this shop together a few more times before Thor got too busy to spend his time eating at every bakery in NYC, leaving Loki to navigate things on his own to his relief.

From then on he decided that this place wasn’t so bad, as you generally left him be, allowing him to stew in his despair alone, like he preferred to. Your presence was only background noise to him, but that was nothing against you, as he avoided interacting or paying attention to most people around him. That was before you finally came up to him one day, offering baked goods that smelled like heaven, pretending as if you were only trying to get rid of them like he had not heard you fiddling around in the back kitchen making them.

He didn't know how to feel about the arbitrary gesture, or how to feel about your sudden boldness. He was used to being a natural human repellent without having to try very hard. He did not hear you at first, your voice being as soft as a feather when he was used to it being louder and stronger whenever you spoke to anyone else. You had caught him off guard, dragging him away from his daydreaming and focusing on you fully for the first time.

He quickly took you in, noticing your nervous smile, the pale baby pink nail polish painted on your fingernails, your ruffled hair, kind eyes, the all black uniform with the blue apron tied around your waist and the way you kept biting your lip as you waited for his response. The last thing he noticed was the tray of freshly baked muffins in your hand.

He was tempted to refuse, wanting to treat you like he did everyone else and run you off, but he knew that was a bad idea for a couple reasons. One, he liked coming to this small little place, considering it a hidden gem where he could hide away from most people. If he upset you, then you would most likely make his time uncomfortable here, or at the very worst kick him out of the establishment.

Another reason why it was not wise to cause you to dislike him is because you did not do anything for him to treat you badly. Yes, you were a bit too nice, and even odd sometimes but you had done nothing to disrespect or cause him to be annoyed. So he obliged, taking one of your treats and having a short exchange of words with you before turning back towards the rainy window.

He did not plan on speaking to you much again after that, only entertaining you every once in a while when you needed a guinea pig for new recipes. He was always there and you never bothered him any other time, so the least he could do was eat a few freshly baked pastries here and there to placate you. You never tried to make conversation with him, and if you did it was only about what you had just made. Nothing stupid like asking how he was doing today, and you didn’t try to pry into his business. If he had to deal with any Midgardian on a regular basis he was okay with it being someone like you.

You were pretty, very much so, and he noticed that but pretty didn’t immediately grab his attention. It never has. It was the way you treated people that first piqued his interest. The way you always gave them a gentle smile, not too big or flashy, just pleasant. Or the way you tried to help them at any chance you could.

If they were a picky eater you were willing to modify something even though he knew it went against company policy. If they needed to use the restroom five minutes before closing, you obliged and rushed them there so they could relieve themselves for way longer than the time allotted. If someone was being unnecessarily rude to you, you would take a good look at them and soften your voice, keeping eye contact while telling them that you understood and would do your best to make up for whatever they were complaining about, even if you weren't at fault or had no control over it.

At the end of the interaction most customers would realize how much of a jerk they were being and speak to you in a less aggressive manner than they had before, while the stubborn ones just grumbled at you and stormed out of the shop in embarrassment. It was sort of entertainment for Loki, seeing how petty humans could be.

However, this woman who was currently spewing nonsense at you seemed to be neither type of customer that you were used to. Loki turned his head and watched as you continued to try and placate her but she was not having it, continuing to find something wrong with everything you were doing. After he heard her negatively comment on your appearance, he knew that her irritation had nothing to do with your professionalism. It was about you.

She was showing either jealousy or prejudice, and Loki couldn’t put a pin on which one it was. However, none of that truly mattered when the hag started to raise her voice at you. His full attention was now focused on the interaction, body turned away from the window as he heard every foul thing the woman was spewing at you. He finally saw enough when he noticed tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

Before he knew it he rose from his chair and stalked over towards the counter. The woman that was currently berating you did not see or hear him coming, but you did. Your eyes widened and a mixed look of alarm and embarrassment washed over your face. When the woman noticed that you weren't paying attention to her anymore, she looked behind her and there was Loki, sending her a look that would make most people cower.

The woman straightened her face, transforming from a deep scowl into something more pleasant as she looked up at the man before her, ignoring the warning signs of his irritation.

“Hello sir,” she purred, fluttering her overdone mascara eyelashes. “Do you need anything? I’m here to help.” She flashed him a bright smile and he grimaced.

“Yes, in fact, I do need something.”

“Is it a pastry? Or no, let me guess, a coffee. You look like a large black coffee kind of man.” She snapped her head towards you and frowned.

“Have you not asked this customer if he wanted anything the whole time he's been here? I have no idea how you got this job. Marc would’ve had better luck pulling a random New Yorker from off the street. He needs a coffee and a bagel, stat.” She turned back to a quietly fuming Loki, bright red painted lips pulling into a grin. “It's on the house.”

When you did not move, instead looking back and forth between Loki and Melissa, the district manager, she noticed and turned to fully face you.

“What are you doing still standing here? I told you to get him a coffee and a bagel.”

You swallowed nervously. “Yes, I know but he d-”

“Right. Now.” She demanded and you jumped to do what she ordered but paused when Loki spoke up.

“No.”

You looked back at him in wariness and Melissa sent him a reassuring look. “It’s alright honey, like I said, it’s on the house.” She glared at you. “Most likely will be siphoned from her paycheck.”

“I do not need for you to provide me with anything.” He said while glaring down at the woman. “What I do need is for you to shut your boisterous mouth and leave this establishment immediately.”

The woman’s smile turned into a frown as she tried to understand what Loki was saying.

“What?”

“Leave.” Loki repeated himself. “Now.”

She huffed and looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t tell me what to do. I am not just another regular old customer. I am the district manager and this is my job. What I say goes.”

Loki’s face twists in disgust. “I have been sitting there listening to your conversation since you've walked in, and you have been doing nothing but berating this young woman since you arrived. She has done nothing to deserve your nastiness, yet you continue to make her feel as if she’s doing everything wrong when you are the problem. You are no manager, as I do not see any managing going on here. Does your job entail you being an overbearing vindictive shrew? Because if so I should reward you myself.”

The woman's face was beet red by the time Loki finished his rant. “How dare you talk to me this way?”

“What way? I am simply providing you with the same treatment that you've been giving her.'' Loki smirked, nodding his head over to you. The woman's eyes narrowed on your stiff body as you watched their tense interaction, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Her?” She screeched. “You're doing all this because of her? A cashier?”

I'm more than a cashier, you thought to yourself but wouldn't dare say it aloud. She glanced sharply between you and Loki before her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, are you two dating? Is that what this is about?” She turned to point at you. “Are you flirting with your customers?” Your mouth dropped and before you could say anything Loki stepped in yet again.

“No, she is not. She does her job perfectly well and does not need to stoop to low levels in order to get people to like or respect her. Maybe she can teach you a few things on how to be a bearable human.”

The cafe went quiet as the woman continued to gawk at your introverted but apparently very observant customer. He raised a dark brow at her and she huffed, sending you one last withering look before straightening her suit jacket and storming out of the bakery.

When the door slammed shut you closed your eyes in both relief and dread.

“Shit.” You whispered, hand smoothing over your hair. You opened your eyes, staring down at the tiled floor in horror. “I’m gonna lose my job.”

Loki eyed you for a few seconds, taking in the distressed look on your face. “If your superiors are idiotic enough to fire you, then maybe it is for the best.”

You scoffed at him. “What? That would be horrible for me. I really need this job. It’s all I have right now. It's helping me pay this crazy New York City rent as well as the expensive tuition for pastry school.” You shook your head.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “They cannot fire you if you weren't the one attacking that woman. She clearly came after you, and I was the one to put her in her place. This is not on you.”

“Well, that doesn't really matter. She's the district manager. The boss of my boss. There's a reason why she's in that position. She has the power to influence people’s decisions.”

Loki scoffed, crossing his arms. “Who in their right mind would listen to that woman?”

“People who want to keep their jobs, like me.” You respond matter of factly, pacing about. Then you stopped, taking in a deep breath. “But who knows, Marc is nice and understanding, maybe I can just talk to him when he comes in today. Explain the situation and all.”

You nodded your head then looked back to the familiar stranger. “Oh, and um, thanks for doing that. You know, standing up to her for me and all? You obviously didn't have to, but it was very kind of you.” You graced him a warm smile.

Loki nodded stiffly. “It was nothing.” He said, then headed back over to the table he normally occupied by the window.

He had no clue why he did that. He never stood up for anyone before, certainly not a mortal. He just assumed that he had to get out his frustrations with being stuck on Earth, and that termagant woman was the perfect excuse for him to let off some steam. No, he did not care about the mortal baker woman. That would be obtuse for someone like him.

As Loki returned to his usual spot in silence, you went back to work, doing your best to shake off the last half hour and get back into your routine. But when Marc returned to the bakery, walking in with a solemn look on his face, you knew you were not going to like what happened next.

******

You were done. Fired. All because of a misunderstanding of some sorts. After all the time and work you put into growing the small little bakery, you were let go all within a few hours. When Marc pulled you into the back and gave you the news, you were devastated.

You knew that he felt bad and said it wasn’t his decision, that it was over his head, but you knew he probably could have fought harder for you. They already had a replacement baker that was set to pick up your hours, making your head spin from how fast everything was changing.

You quietly finished the rest of your shift, planning to close an hour early so you could pack up the rest of your things. Loki left at his usual time without saying a word, and you closed down soon after. After cleaning and stocking up for the next day, you gathered your belongings, handing in the keys to the cafe and giving a swift goodbye to Marc before heading out.

You were slowly walking to your car, shoulders drooped and hands full of stuff as your mind thought about how you were going to fix the current situation you found yourself in when all of a sudden you saw a figure walking your way from the opposite direction.

“Sir?” You greeted him in surprise. “I thought you left already?”

He nodded. “Yes, but I came back to speak to you.” He admitted and you blinked.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Strangely enough I feel this sense…. guilt for you losing your position. Even if that woman deserved a verbal lashing, I would not have done it if I knew you would suffer the consequences.” Part of him felt strange and unusual for apologizing to a mortal for something he should not care about, but another part of him felt as if you deserved it.

You grimaced. “Oh, you heard that?” You thought Marc had been quiet and discreet about your firing, but apparently not. You waved the free hand that you had. “That was not your fault. I don’t think it was really anyone's fault. Well, maybe except hers.” You let out a humorless snort. “Regardless, it’s over with and I need to move on. But feel free to come back to the shop whenever you want. I’m sure they’ll still appreciate your presence.”

“Why on Earth would I continue to give attention to such a poorly managed place?” He frowned. “They just willingly lost their only decent employee.”

You smiled at him. “That sounds like a bit of a compliment.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “Yes? Well, don’t get used to it, it is the only one you’ll ever get from me.” Then his face turned serious. “But I think I can provide something better. Something that would be of use to you.”

You tilted your head in curiosity as he continued to explain and before you knew it, you found yourself at the Avengers compound, standing behind a small little cart filled with pastries in the lobby.

Loki had given you Tony Stark's contact, which blew your mind. You never would have expected something like that, not from a random customer at the shop at least. This had shocked you and you thanked him numerous times, taking the rest of the evening to update your resume and cover letter before sending it to Stark’s email. You also included a list of relevant, trustworthy references, now adding Loki Laufeyson to the list of names.

The very next day Tony Stark had called you, the first question coming out of his mouth being How in the world do you know Loki?

After briefly explaining your strange relationship with the man in question, Stark hummed in thought, telling you that he was hesitant on calling you because you listed the Asgardian’s name, and that he was not willing to trust almost anyone that would list Loki Laufeyson as a reliable reference. But after speaking to you on the phone and seeing your impressive resume and skills, he mentioned that he had been thinking about opening up a small food and beverage cart in the compound’s lobby, where most employees moved about. He invited you for an interview and said that the decision would be made from there.

To your extreme luck the interview went very well, as Mr. Stark took a liking to you, but still questioned you multiple times on how you were able to get Loki to do something nice for once in his life. You had shrugged, as you honestly didn’t know.

You started off with the little cart, standing behind it with a big smile watching everyone walk pass. After a while, you caught the glances of many hungry employees, and they eventually started to line up at your cart one by one. Your goods were warm and smelled delicious as you baked them fresh every morning at 5am and placed them in the warm cart when you arrived at the building.

Not only were the quality of your pastries bringing you repeat customers, but so was your knack for natural conversation. You knew when and when not to make conversation, as you were good at reading people. Loki would stop by every once in a while and you’d send him a welcoming smile, always giving him his purchase for free. However, you eventually noticed that the tip jar was getting fuller everyday, finally realizing that Loki was most likely the culprit.

About two months later your little cart was transformed into a slightly bigger kiosk, then five months later into an actual store. Your business was so in demand that Tony had a small little shop built right there in the large lobby, with custom built storage units, shelving space and racks, three large ovens, all the baking equipment and utensils you’d ever need, and a top of the line POS system. To have a brick and mortar while you were still in pastry school was an absolute dream come true.

You hired the necessary staff, most people you have had worked with before and possessed extraordinary skills. Your shop was open for about a week when Loki came by, complimenting you on your hard work and congratulating you on the new bakery. You were thanking him when you noticed he had an odd look on his face.

You walked from behind the counter and led him to a table where you both sat.

“What is it?” You asked, knowing that he sometimes needed some encouragement to speak when something was pressing him.

He looked at you with an annoyed gaze. “Stark thinks that I need to make myself useful. He is forcing me to take part in community service, or whatever that is.”

You blinked at him. “Oh, that’s great. Community service is a way to give back to the community, hence the name.”

Loki gave you a deadpan look. “I do not desire to take part in anything that goes on here. However if I do not listen to him, I will find myself having a longer stay on this rock.”

You nodded, humming in thought until an idea popped into your head. You turned to him, biting your lip. “Well we could always use some extra help around here. What do you think about joining our team? I know it’s not exactly community service but we could still keep you busy.”

He looked at you, eyelids lowering in thought. “I supposed that would not be horrible. There are far worse ideas.” He drones and you smirk.

“Exactly, that’s the spirit! Now go tell Mr. Stark and I’ll print out some forms for you to fill out for your ‘community service hours’.

From then on, Loki had become a familiar face in your bakery. All of your chefs were extremely professional, so they did not bat an eye when you told them he’d be joining. Some of the customers on the other hand were a bit apprehensive about Loki being there, but you assured them that he was just helping out, and that he wouldn’t be stirring up any trouble. He was of no harm.

Though he could not hold back his various facial expressions, Loki listened to your every word and followed your every instruction. You were even starting to think he was enjoying being a part of the team. Everything was going great, until it wasn’t.

Not for the bakery, for you. A couple months into him working there, you were starting to notice things, things you have never noticed before. Like how glossy and shiny his bouncy jet black curls were, or how long and thick his dark lashes were. The black apron that he adorned on his lean yet sinewy figure was starting to look less out of place and more a part of his attraction.

You caught yourself eyeing the muscles hidden under his long sleeve shirt, sometimes catching a glimpse of them unobstructed whenever he rolled the sleeves up. While you were secretly salivating over him, Loki was none the wiser.

You had made an attempt to keep your feelings, or whatever it was building up inside of you in check. You were not only a professional, but you were now Loki’s friend and didn’t want to run him off all because you had found him attractive.

It had been so long since you dated anyone, years even. You were bad at romantic relationships and still bad at it now. So you had no business being in a relationship. But apparently that hadn’t truly been able to prevent you from thinking about Loki almost every second of the day. He was everything you never realized you wanted. Tall, dark, handsome, charismatic, funny, intense, and to put the icing on the cake he was so incredibly strong.

You tried not to pay attention to the way his muscles moved when he walked, the way he carefully grabbed your arm or touched the small of your back when he passed from behind you, the ease in which he lifted heavy boxes and equipment like they’re simply pillows made out of feathers. The way he towered over you, over most people. His height had the potential to make you feel small, vulnerable, and intimidated, but instead you felt safe and protected.

You had a huge crush on him and it was getting stronger each day that passed. However, you didn't know if he felt the same way. If he could even feel the same way about you. You witnessed how both women and men alike would notice him and change their whole demeanor. He looked so out of place helping out at your little bakery, but it made him look even more attractive. Damn him!

You continued working with him for a few more months until you couldn't take it anymore. You had stopped going on inventory runs with him and stopped hanging out with him outside of work altogether. And when you did work with him, you tried to avoid his touch at all cost, jumping away whenever he brushed by you, causing him to throw you a funny look. He would even call you some days when you were off work and you'd send him straight to voicemail. You felt extremely bad for doing these things but you honestly didn't know what else to do.

You were going to continue on with this until there was a knock on your apartment door one night. You paused in stuffing your face with potato chips. Not expecting anyone to be arriving, you looked out of the peephole on the door, spotting the last person you expected to see at your door at this time of night. Your eyes widened and you quickly backed away from the door.

“I know you’re in there.” His deep tone called out from the otherside of the door. You tiptoed around the apartment, turning the lights off just in case he decided to look through the windows. You froze in your steps when you heard him calling your name in a stern tone.

“Switching off the lights will not deter me from speaking to you. I will stand outside of this door for hours on end until you let me in. You should know that I will do exactly that.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inwardly cursing before sighing, switching the lights back on. Loki did not look happy when you finally opened the door.

You stepped to the side as you let him in, already familiar with your apartment after visiting a few times. You shut the door, turning to smile at him. “Sorry, I was taking a nap. Want some tea? I bought more of that one brand you like so much.”

He stayed giving you an unamused look, crossing his arms while eying you. “No, I do not want tea. What I want is for you to tell me why you have been acting so strangely for the past while. I noticed your odd behavior months ago but it has gotten increasingly so since then.”

You gulped, trying to play it off as if you were clueless. “Strange? I don't know what you mean. I may have been a bit tired lately but that's all.”

“Don't lie to me.” he frowned deeply. “What is wrong? Have I done something to make you despise me?”

Your eyes widened. “What? No! I don't despise you at all. I like you a lot, Loki. You've been such a great friend.” He raised a skeptical brow. “Is that so? This is how you treat your friends? Avoiding and ignoring them at all cost?”

“Of course not. I-I just-.” you sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. “I'm just going through some things that I can't really explain. That's all.”

His eyes grow concerned for you. “Well whatever it is, you do know that you can tell me, right?. Especially if it is causing you to act so unusual.” He says, stepping closer to you. Your body lit alit, noticing his close proximity. Here he was with you in your tiny little apartment, towering over you with all his muscles and pretty green eyes, begging you to speak to him.

You took a small step back from him, a force of habit you recently picked up on, causing him to look at you strangely. He huffs out a breath of disbelief. “It is me.” He mutters. “I am the problem.”

“No you’re not.” You protest.

“If not, explain why you are backing away from me like I am carrying some contagious disease? You have barely looked me in the eyes since I stepped through that door.” He fumed.

You swallowed, meeting his gaze. You wanted to gasp at the strong emotion he held in his eyes. He looked… hurt, as if what you were doing was taking a toll on him. As if what you did mattered to him.

When you didn't respond, only looking back at him dumbly, he took a deep breath and nodded his head, lips pursing.

“I think I understand.” He said with finality in his voice, eyes guarded as he turned around, walking towards the door.

You quickly followed after him. “Wait, Loki. Don't go, please.” You beg.

He emitted a frustrated noise, turning his head to send his sharp gaze towards you. “You are repulsed by me yet do not want me to leave?” He laughed humorlessly. “I did not believe that you were like all the others, but I guess I was wrong.”

“No, it’s not like that.” You said, placing your hand carefully on his arm. He eyed it and you quickly removed it, not wanting to make him more upset and confused than he already was.

He turned to face you, irritation building up on his face. “I will ask you this one last time.” He states with all seriousness in his voice. “What is it?

You sighed, briefly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before blurting it out. “I like you.”

He narrowed his gaze and you continued. “I like you. Like, like you like you.”

At that, he looked even more confused than before.

“Speak English, woman.” He demanded.

You glanced around the room in embarrassment. “I have feelings for you.” You breathe.

The room was silent for a moment before you met his gaze again. His expression was unreadable causing you to feel sick to your stomach. All of your worst fears were starting to cloud your head. Was he going to be uncomfortable? Sad? Angry? Hate you and never want to be around you again? If so, you couldn’t go down without explaining.

“I-I… I never wanted it to come to this. I tried my best to avoid it but nothing worked, especially when I found myself being around you all the time. It got to the point where I could barely keep myself together when working with you, which was a lot.” Tears started to gather underneath your eyelids. “I couldn’t stand witnessing all of those people flirt with you, and see you flirting back with them. I couldn’t stop looking at you whenever you were distracted enough not to catch me. And I know you must think I’m stupid to even think for a second that you’d return my feelings, that’s why I had to separate myself from you.” You shake your head, looking down at the floor. “I just needed some ti-.”

Before you could say anything else, a strong hand had lifted your face upwards and a pair of soft lips met your own. You gasped into the kiss but quickly pressed your lips into his the moment you realized what was happening.

Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach and your heart started racing. Your hands found his broad shoulders and his other made its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer into the kiss.

His smooth lips moved against yours in an unhurried pace, making your head spin. You were fairly confident that if he didn’t have one arm around you, would have fallen backwards onto your ass. Your breath was taken away when you felt his tongue slide against your lips, requesting access. You granted the request.

When his warm appendage entered your mouth, you let out a soft moan, hands squeezing his shoulders tighter. He emitted a deep groan that traveled straight to your core, making you shudder in his hold.

Before you knew it, you were being lifted into his arms and your arms wrapped around your neck. Your heart leaped in your chest, and if you weren’t kissing him right now you'd be panting like a dog in heat. You have never been lifted into anyone’s arms before, let alone the very man you had a huge crush on. It felt amazing. It felt absolutely perfect. Feeling his strong arms wrapped around you, you could do nothing but run your hands down his chest as your mouths fought each other for dominance. He was winning at the moment because you were completely out of breath.

Noticing your lack of air, Loki reluctantly pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as he did as well. Staring into each other's eyes as your foreheads gently pressed together.

“Woah,” You breathed once you could finally speak again, and because you were utterly shocked by what just happened, you started giggling.

Loki raised a brow at you with a light smile on his face. “What? Is my show of affection humorous to you?”

You shook your head. “No, no, it’s just that… I didn’t expect that. Like at all.” You said biting your lip and his eyes trailed down to your mouth.

“So um, I'm guessing that you like like me too.” You smiled when he rolled his eyes. “How long?”

His brows furrowed in thought. “Well I believe I have always held a fondness for you, even if I did not know it at the time. But my stronger feelings for you have been here for months now.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head. “Months?!” you exclaim. “And you’ve never said anything?”

He frowned. “Of course not. Loki Laufeyson, future king of Asgard and rightful king of Jotunnheim cannot be caught expressing his affections for a mere mortal.” You sent him an unamused look and he chuckled.

“In all seriousness, I did not think that you would return my affections, that you would harbor no feelings that exceed simply being a companion.”

You looked at him as if he were insane. “Why would you think that?”

He sent you an adorably shy look. “Well, it is obvious, is it not? You are what I am not. Kind to all even when they do not deserve it, including myself. Considerate of others' struggles and situations. Always lending a helping hand even when you have more than enough to deal with on your plate. I cannot fathom why anyone with characteristics such as these would desire to be with a being like myself.”

You sighed, placing a hand gently on his face. “Loki, of course I would want to be with someone like you. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re more than what you have done in the past. You were put here on Earth as a second chance to change things for the better, and that’s what you have been doing this whole time. You have grown and will continue to do so. I think anyone that’s willing to go through all of this trouble to better themselves deserves all the love in the world.”

He sent you a soft smile. “My dear, you are sweet, but unfortunately I was shipped here by the Allfather. I did not willingly come here on my own.”

“No, but you could have protested, made everyone’s lives miserable here, but you decided not to. Whether that was initially for selfish reasons, I believe you’ve moved on to more purer ones. Don’t you think so?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment and you could almost see the growing affection and adoration.

“I suppose so.” He quietly admitted.

You gave him a gentle, encouraging smile and he looked as if he was about to lean back in for another kiss before he blinked.

“I have just had the realization that I have been holding you for this entire time. My apologies-.” He chuckled, beginning to lower you to the ground but stopped when you protested.

“No! It’s okay. I kind of like being held by you. But if I’m beginning to get too heavy you can put me down.” You said and his brows raised before he smirked at you.

“Never.” He muttered before pulling your face towards him, granting you with another searing kiss.

******

You and Loki’s relationship only grew from that day on. You were both extremely happy to be with one another and not have to hide your true feelings anymore. He had been a bit worried about what the Avengers would think about your new relationship considering he did not have a great track record with them. His concern was not based on approval, it was more like he didn’t want them to run you away from him. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation, but you didn’t care, continuing to encourage him and assuring him that everything was going to be okay.

And surprisingly, you were right. The team took the news better than expected. Of course there were some skeptical faces in the bunch but overall it was received quite well. You started to hang around in other parts of the compound more, enjoying the company of the rambunctious but extraordinary people. They were all kind to you, maybe a bit too kind in Loki’s eyes. He swore that he would catch Bucky looking at you strangely from time to time, which would then raise his blood pressure a bit. But you denied it, telling your boyfriend that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. No one was trying to come on to you, and if they did you would shut it down right away. Bucky was probably still trying to wrap his head around how you willingly decided to date someone like Loki, as he was still new to normal everyday life after being a Hydra super assassin for so long.

Anytime you were with the team, so was Loki. Any time he had to show up to those godawful events that Stark threw together, he would drag you along with him as his date. He loved the way you looked. It didn’t matter if you were in your work clothes and apron covered in flour and sugar, or at home in your comfortable pajama pants and cute shirts, or just clad in jeans and a t-shirt. But whenever you got dressed up to go as his date for these stupid parties, he found himself having to close his mouth so he didn’t start drooling in front of everyone.

You were absolutely gorgeous and didn’t even have to try. The light makeup accentuated your already stunning features, and the dress you had chosen would seem as if it was created just for you. Molding to your body as if it was custom tailored and not straight off the rack from some random store you found. Loki would grab you by the waist and spin you around the dance floor all night long, ignoring everyone else and just bask in your presence, wanting to make sure you always had a good time.

More and more he found himself wanting to whisk you away and take you somewhere no one would be able to find you two, just so he could have his way with you. He didn’t know this, but you also felt the same way, wanting to jump on him and tear off his clothes whenever you both were alone.

You two still had yet to be intimate. He wanted to take things slow, not wanting to scare you off so soon. Meanwhile you felt the opposite, wanting to be with him but not voicing it because you were too nervous about what he’d think of you.

You had only been dating for a few months at this point and you were almost bursting at the seams. You even started sending him subtle hints here and there, flirting with him more, pressing your body to him whenever you were in close proximity. You had even quit wearing pants whenever he came over to your place for movie night, only choosing to wear a large shirt that covered your body until about mid-thigh, usually one of his that was leftover from whenever he had spent the night.

You almost wanted to laugh when you saw his face after you opened the door to greet him. He had been definitely caught off guard to say the least, but pleasantly so. Nevertheless, you’d spend most of the night cuddling before falling asleep together while holding each other close.

He still came to help out at the bakery a few days a week, but lately he had been coming in more because the shop was getting extremely busy. Business was booming and so you had to hire more people, but even that wasn’t enough. Loki was a huge help with everything, and working there was also helping him in turn. He was becoming better at interacting with people and you could tell that improved his mood a lot.

But as much as you loved him being there, he was still sort of a distraction. Not because of the light flirting you two would throw each other's way, or the looks, or subtle touches. No, it was everything all at once. It was all of him. It was Loki. His swagger and strength was throwing you for a loop, especially so because you knew he was yours now. You had a problem and needed to fix it immediately.

You may have thought that he didn’t notice, but yet again he did because you were an open book. But this time instead of assuming, he paid more attention to your behavior, noticing how you licked your lips or squeezed your hand into a ball whenever he did something basic like lifting boxes. Your gaze would be trained on his hands whenever he worked at kneading dough. Something he recently noticed was that you had started asking him to lift you up on his shoulders so you could reach the ingredients on the higher shelves. You’d never asked this of him before, usually just going to grab one of the many stools you had stored for when you couldn’t reach something. Yet, he obliged happily, not daring to question you about it.

You two were as close as can be but your little thing for his strength was just too embarrassing for you to admit. However, Loki was a bit slow at catching on to you, but not for very much longer.

One evening there was a knock on your apartment door. You opened it expecting to see Loki, and there he was giving you a sexy smile with a bottle of wine in one hand and takeout in another. You ushered him in, going to grab some plates and glasses so you two could sit on the couch and enjoy your dinner together.

When you were both finished, he cleaned up and you lit one of your favorite candles. He sat back on the other side of the couch, eyeing you as you sipped from your glass of red wine. He took in your attire, another big t-shirt that exposed your smooth thighs and legs. Your hair was currently pinned up in a messy, frizzy bun, and your toes were painted a pale pink, your favorite color.

He took one of your legs in his hand, sliding it from under you and onto his lap. You almost choked on your drink when you felt the contrast of his calloused hands massaging against your moisturized leg. You quickly swallowed down the liquid and cleared your throat, looking up at him.

He was already gazing at you with an unreadable look on his face when you met his eyes. “W-would you like some more wine? Or we could watch a movie or…”

You trailed off when his hand started rubbing higher on your leg, moving up your thigh, only stopping a few inches away from your lace panties.

“Hmm, we could do whatever you desire, as I highly enjoy spending time with you. However, what I want is much different from our normal nightly routine.”

“W-what do you want… to do that is?” You squeaked.

He takes a slow sultry look down your alluring body, before meeting your eyes again, pupils so dilated you could barely spot the radiant green color you’ve grown to love.

“You.”

You immediately jumped into action, carelessly placing your glass on the coffee table before tackling him and pressing your lips to his. His back hit the couch cushion as you straddled him, kissing him like your life depended on it, and he did the same in return, deep timbre chuckling at your eagerness which made you want him even more. He groaned in pleasure as his hands rubbed up and down your back.

You lowered your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging on it to hint that you wanted it off. He followed your directions, taking his shirt off as you watched in awe. As soon as it was completely off, you ran your hands down his pale muscled chest and could feel the vibrations as he growled lowly at your soft touch.

He then took hold of your wrists, pushing you back as he sat up, gripping your t-shirt before pulling off of your body.

“Dear god,” he whispered, taking in your body and how it fit in the black lace panties and bra you adorned. “You are such a beautiful creature, and I am a lucky man.”

You smirked down at him. “No, you’re a god, and I’m the lucky one.”

Suddenly, the world spun and you were on your back, while he was on top of you.

“Is that so?” He purred, trailing slow delicate kisses down your neck which made you visibly shudder.

“Well, let me show you what your god can do.”

The rest of your clothes were shed onto the floor, and before you knew it he was pulling you off of the couch without a sweat, lifting you into his arms. You gasped when you found your back against the wall, legs wrapped around Loki’s waist.

He kissed you deeply and slowly before whispering against your lips.

“Allow me to show you how strong your god is.”

Then he sank his length deep into your core, making you throw your head back in ecstasy as you mewled out name.

Several hours late into the night, your neighbor in the apartment next door to you sighed out in relief once the constant pounding from the other side of the wall had finally stopped.

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