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lokisjmw · 3 days ago

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I love Loki’s internal conflict at wanting to be himself and give in and trying to be patient to get out of his prison! (Also you’re so right he would definitely speed 🤣)

Also gutted for Charlotte she went through all that effort to be anonymous…although I’m sure he would have sniffed her out anyway!

LYHOM: Ch 2: Unsettled

Summary: Charlotte attends her first class with Professor Laufeyson. Loki reflects on returning to his new routine. W/C 3k

Warnings: None

LYHOM Masterlist

It was Tuesday, and Charlotte paced in her tiny bedroom in her pajamas, already caffeinated and worried about her first class of the morning. A Study of Asgardian History and Culture was starting in an hour, and she was already worried about Professor Laufeyson.

As a girl, her favorite books had always been about mythology: Greek, Persian, Native American– but Norse had been her favorite. But the reality of dealing with the actual Prince Laufeyson, God of Mischief, when he was already pissed at her, was unnerving.

With a deep breath that did little to steady her nerves, Charlotte recalled the flash of his icy gaze from their last unpleasant exchange. She regretted letting her temper get the best of her.

She needed to learn to be more like Kate. Kate had it figured out— she just didn’t let anyone get to her— she had an admirable unflappable demeanor, an easy grace under pressure. But that was a skill that was hard for Charlotte to practice when someone really pissed her off. And Professor Laufeyson really pissed her off. His arrogance was infuriating— how did other people tolerate it?

Looking in her dresser, Charlotte planned out what to wear— she wanted to blend in as much as possible in his class. Sweatshirt and leggings? No, too casual, he may chide her for that. She grabbed the blandest oversized sweater she had (curse her flair for bright colors) and jeans. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her? That was stupid, of course he would.

Idiot, she thought to herself.

What could he really do? Would he go so far as to kick her out of class? She hoped he wasn’t that petty. Charlotte had been anticipating this class as soon as she was accepted to the school, brimming with enthusiasm to learn about ancient civilizations from an actual former god. She took a deep breath and tried to shrug off her worry as she got dressed.

Charlotte timed her arrival perfectly with the rest of the class and headed towards the back row of the room, nervously scoping out her spot for the rest of the semester. The view wasn’t great, but that was for the best— she didn’t want her arrogant, unnaturally sexy professor distracting her.

Yes, unfortunately, he was sexy. Charlotte had noticed that fact like every other person in that coffee shop. His otherworldly aura combined with his perfect physique and perfectly sculpted face and perfectly styled hair had made their encounter even more infuriating. She suppressed her momentary attraction and observed the bustling around her.

As the other students shuffled around and took their seats, she noticed that the women and men in this room were nearly overdressed. Students in this school, from what she had seen in yesterday’s classes, were normally dressed very casually. Sweatshirts, joggers, even one young woman had worn pajama bottoms. But in this class…she could tell they showed up looking their best for Professor Laufeyson. Oh, he must love that, she rolled her eyes.

A tall, lanky young man in a flannel clambered in next to Charlotte, taking the seat beside her with a nod and a warm smile. She smiled back as she pulled out her old laptop and prepared for class.

A quiet hush fell upon the room as Professor Laufeyson walked in. He was dressed in a dark black suit with a white shirt that that popped against the black tie, making him look like he stepped off of the runway, rather than into a classroom. His confident walk and the regal air about him made Charlotte really want to like him more. He was so crush-worthy. Sexy and smart and he knew it. Then she thought about how he talked down to her in the cafe and she quickly soured.

“Welcome to A Study of Asgardian History and Culture. You will find this course to be challenging, but rewarding,” Professor Laufeyson said in a friendly, welcoming tone as he swiftly set his bag down at his desk.

“The university has made a requirement that I confirm attendance at every class. I will do so this morning, but going forward you’re to sign in at the sheet near the front door. I will only spend thirty minutes reviewing the course rules and syllabus today, and then we will jump right into the course material,” he sat at his desk, pulling out the class roster.

Charlotte felt a lump in her throat, tension building in her chest. She couldn’t escape— he would immediately identify her. All her hopes of maybe going a few weeks without him recognizing her were dashed in a fleeting moment.

Calm down, you didn’t do anything wrong. She tried to assure herself as he went through the “A”s. And maybe he won’t recognize her— there’s always a chance?

“Charlotte Baker,” he called out, looking around the room with an inquisitive scan of the class.

Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice.

“Here,” she called out, trying to even her voice as much as possible despite her heart racing.

He surveyed the room, his eyes passing her for a moment, then going back to her. His eyes narrowed in recognition.

“Charlotte. Baker.,” Professor Laufeyson repeated, and she nervously nodded. A small smirk pulled at his lips, and he looked back down at his list and continued to read more names aloud.

As he finished roll call, Charlotte sunk into her seat, a wave of dread settling over her. He remembered her. She felt like a bug caught in a spider’s web. It was one thing to confront him in her place of work, but now she was in his classroom, at his mercy. She sighed and took another deep breath, trying to concentrate on him instead of spiraling.

“And now I will begin the class by reviewing a list of frequently asked questions. I will be answering them in this session only, and will not be discussing further,” the professor stood to address the class.

“Firstly— what am I the former god of? I have been known by many names: the God of Evil, God of Lies, God of Mischief…,” he smiled proudly as he looked over the class.

“In this class, you do not need to address me in any way other than Professor Laufeyson. But do know, though now I may seem subdued in nature, I still have a predilection towards these other natures. And I will still know when you’re lying to me, so don’t bother,” he claimed sternly, looking around the room.

“Second: no, I did not, in fact, have sex with a horse. That was a fun story courtesy of my brother, Thor. Theoretically, it’s possible. But if it’s animal fornication that you’re interested in, may I suggest speaking with our resident Greek pantheon expert, Professor Berman, down the hall,” he quipped, and the class laughed a little too loudly.

“Third: no, I don’t talk to Thor. Or the Avengers if I can help it. I won’t be answering any questions about them,” a bitterness tinged his voice.

“Also, a lot of myths that Midgardians like to tell of us and our lives are often false or grandiose. So leave what you thought you knew about us at the door, and assume what you know is false.”

Professor Laufeyson continued to walk back and forth, slowly, deliberately. Charlotte admired his ability to command attention in the room. She glanced around and there wasn’t a single student distracted by their phones or taking notes. All eyes were on their professor.

“Questions often come up revolving around New York,” he continued, his tone now taking a darker edge to it. The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

“I will not be discussing it. If you ask anything about my time in New York, you will be kicked out of my classroom,” his eyes were serious, menacing as he surveyed his audience.

A shiver ran down Charlotte’s spine— he was so intimidating. She was suddenly reminded that he had once been a serious villain, conquering worlds and taking what he wants.

“Now, let’s discuss Yggrdasil, the World Tree, and how everything you humans have believed is wrong,” he cheerfully changed the subject, heading to the blackboard on the walls.

Professor Laufeyson spent the next hour explaining the world tree, the other realms, and the Asgardian time periods. He assigned a paper for the class— to analyze and compare the Asgardian ages to humankind ages.

As their teacher dismissed them, Charlotte felt excited again. Listening to him explain these new concepts, worlds that humans had never known existed, was thrilling. Professor Laufeyson’s enthusiasm for his people was contagious. She was beginning to feel that her anxiety over the incident was in her rear view, and that both her and her professor would move past it.

“Wow, a paper already, huh?,” Charlotte joked to the guy next to her as they packed up their things.

“Yea, Laufeyson’s a tough professor. Rumor is no one’s ever gotten an ‘A’ in his class,” he responded with eyebrows raised.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, “Well I’ve already met him once at my work and he was terrorizing the staff over macchiatos, so I guess that tracks.”

“Really? I need to hear that story! My girlfriend is so jealous I got into this class, and she wants any gossip I can bring her. My name’s Ryan by the way,” he gave a small nod, as he shoved his very expensive laptop into his designer bag.

“Nice to meet you Ryan, I’m Charlotte. As soon as we’re out of earshot I’ll tell you all about it,” she grinned as they walked down the stairs and towards the classroom exit.

With a casual glance over her shoulder, Charlotte caught sight of her professor, now distant and detached from the world around him. He sat behind his desk, fingers deftly turning the pages of an old, leather-bound book, his focus absolute.

She wondered why that book held his attention so thoroughly, but only for a moment. With a shake of her head, Charlotte turned away, letting the door close behind her with a soft click. It was time to push Professor Laufeyson to the back of her mind, at least until the next class. For now, she had a new friend to commiserate with.

The faculty parking lot shimmered in the late afternoon sun, heat rising from the asphalt in lazy waves. Loki strode through it with purpose as he checked his watch— four thirty-seven, and he was finally free of student stares and administrative tedium. The first week of the semester always drained him in ways that were uniquely mortal.

The parking lot was emptying steadily now. Faculty members with families hurried to their sensible sedans, rushing home to dinner and domesticity. Loki observed them all with detached amusement. He was contemplating an evening of solitude— perhaps some Wagner accompanying a glass of bordeaux while he read.

“Hey Loki, how’s the first week going?,” a familiar voice asked cheerfully from behind Loki as he walked towards his car.

The tension in Loki’s muscles released in increments as he recognized the voice. Nathaniel Berman— predictable, kind Nathaniel with his rumpled tweed and endless supply of jokes. A dear friend.

A warm smile spread on his face as he turned around. “It’s going surprisingly well,” Loki responded, greeting his friend with a pat on the back. He looked slightly harried, Loki noticed— more so than usual.

“Oh good, glad to hear it! Listen, I’ve gotta jet and get home, want to meet up for drinks next Friday?,” he asked, a little out of breath, obviously in a rush to get somewhere important, but wanting to make sure he carved out time for his friend.

“Sure, that sounds like a plan,” Loki nodded and unlocked his car— an Aston Martin coupe, sleek and black, with fully tinted windows— a car so out of place in a faculty parking lot that it might as well have been a spaceship.

“You also said you’d let me drive in that thing this year,” Nathaniel pointed to Loki’s meticulously clean vehicle as he walked backwards.

Loki chuckled lightly, “I said no such thing, but I admire your bravery to lie to me.”

“I’m going to keep trying!”, he waved and walked towards his rough looking SUV across the lot.

Loki smiled to himself as he opened his car door and sat in the perfectly molded seat, the interior greeting him with the scent of fine leather and subtle cologne— a cocoon of luxury.

As Loki pulled out of the parking lot, he sighed with relief at the day finally ending. Today had actually gone better than he had anticipated. He had expected at least one significant confrontation. Last fall’s return had featured an overeager freshman who’d asked for a selfie “with the alien invasion guy.” The spring before that, a visiting professor had cornered him at the welcome reception and subjected him to an interminable monologue about Norse mythology’s “fascinating misrepresentation in popular media,” apparently oblivious to the irony of lecturing Loki himself on the topic.

The engine purred as he picked up speed, leaving the mid sized town and merging onto the highway towards the property where he lived. The coupe responded to his touch like a well-trained horse, sensitive to the slightest pressure, allowing him the luxury of minimal effort as he left the campus behind. Loki adjusted the sound system, allowing soft classical music to fill the interior as the day melted away.

He had been gone all summer, so it would be nice to get back into his routine. Nice? No, comforting. No, boring, Loki scoffed to himself.

His mind drifted as he passed the other drivers effortlessly, his speed much higher than the limit, and he reflected on the week so far. Despite the day going relatively well, Loki couldn’t ignore the tension in his shoulders. Though his students seemed satisfactory, his thoughts wandered to the impudent young woman who had annoyed him in the coffee shop, and now was in his class.

A fleeting, sensual thought about her hazel eyes and feisty attitude crept into the back of his mind like an invasive vine. Had this been another time, another place, their interaction may have been more pleasurable…the flash of her attitude interrupted his abstraction, bringing him back to reality.

She must’ve known he would be her professor. And yet, she mouthed off to him.The realization intensified his irritation, adding a layer of calculated disrespect to what he had initially dismissed as just a poor temper.

Just like everyone else, her voice echoed in his mind. Loki’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her comments hitting a nerve. He is a Prince. A God. Or he was…

She had no idea who she was messing with. He was going to make that woman’s semester a living hell, no matter how good of a student she was. The thought brought a cold smile to his lips— this was the smile of the old Loki— the trickster, the chaos-bringer, the one who ensured that disrespect never went unpunished.

No— that was the darkness calling him again.

He was here to do a job— teach the Midgardians, not torture them. A low grumble emitted from Loki’s chest as he pushed down on the accelerator, nearly clipping a minivan as he smoothly passed it.

The vengeful thoughts were a seductive, familiar territory that felt more authentic than the restrained academic persona he’d cultivated. They whispered of power and control, of putting mortals in their place, of asserting the superiority that was his birthright. But he recognized the danger in that siren call, the path that had led him to this punishment in the first place.

Stop thinking about the irritating students. Keep your focus.

He had to be good. This could be the year where he finally gets off of this planet. That was the hope that made this exile bearable— that it was temporary, that proper behavior would eventually earn his release, that compliance now would lead to freedom later.

If Loki was anything, he was patient. Centuries of existence had taught him the value of strategic waiting, of allowing events to unfold according to their own rhythm while positioning himself to take advantage when the moment was right.

He could endure this exile a while longer. He could ignore the petty annoyances of inferior people, disallow them from tarnishing his thoughts.

With a deep sigh, Loki changed his negative thoughts towards something he was pleased to think about: dinner. What would he cook tonight? One thing he had learned to appreciate was the variety of humans’ cuisine. In Asgard, the feasts were mainly a giant hunk of roasted meat with roasted vegetables and sometimes fruit. But the wide variety in ingredients and spices on Earth spoke to Loki. The limitless combinations, the subtle interplay of flavors, the precision required for certain techniques— these aspects of cooking satisfied his intellectual curiosity and his appreciation for both structure and creativity. Cooking was not unlike making magic potions and spells.

Contentment washed over Loki as he overtook someone in a ridiculously modded Civic and planned out his meal for the evening. Tonight, he decided, would be a good occasion for coq au vin. Then a good book, perhaps the book on the last years of the Roman republic that Nathaniel had loaned him. Yes, it would be a good night.

He could do this for another year. He just had to focus and ignore the troublesome urges, the whispers in his head telling him to abandon the pretense of compliance and embrace the chaos that still lived within him. Loki reassured himself again, knowing that he was able to will himself to do anything, even if it meant being boring.

Loki’s car pulled into the parking lot of Belvedere’s Fine Foods, the upscale grocer near his house. He easily parked, taking up 4 spaces that he considered entirely reasonable given the value of the vehicle and the general carelessness of Midgardian drivers.

As he stepped out of his small sports car, Loki felt the traces of his earlier frustrations vanish in the early evening air. Ahead of him lay his house, his kitchen, his evening carefully arranged according to his own preferences with no interference. For now, it would have to be enough.

Chapter 3 (released on 27 Jun)

LYHOM Masterlist

LYHOM Playlists

Buy me a coffee 💚

#lyhom #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #prof!loki #loki

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lokisjmw · 4 days ago

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Ahhhh I’m so excited for this!! 😍😍

I love the reasoning behind him being a lecturer and Thor helping him out!

Also lmao at the trigger, I used to work in the busiest coffee shop in the city (and many bars before that, the weeds know me and I know the weeds) and I was like pfft how accurate can it be…oh boy you nailed it!! Felt like I was back at work 🤣 the first time I’ve ever thought that a hospitality job has been described realistically! Remaking an oat milk/regular milk debacle is particularly *chefs kiss*

Really excited for the rest! I don’t know if you have a tag list but please can I be added to it if so?

💚

LYHOM: Ch 1: The Menace

Summary: Now that summer is coming to an end, Loki returns to campus in preparation for the new school year. Charlotte meets Professor Laufeyson for the first time. W/C 6k

Warnings: TW for anyone who's been in the weeds working in a restaurant 😂

Masterlist

Five Years Ago.

Loki stared out of the window of Stark tower as rain pelted and dripped down the sides of the glass building. Not twenty four hours ago, his silhouette had dominated the skyline, a commander before his chitauri legion, every muscle coiled with purpose and determination. Determination to make Thor suffer. Determination to conquer and rule. This planet was to be his kingdom. Now it would be his prison.

Yes, his fate could’ve been worse, but that didn’t stop the dread inside. The resentment that had simmered about Thor, that unshakable conviction of superiority over the mortals of Earth, now seemed like the remnants of a dream. His mind drifted in a haze of internal conflict, the sharp edges dulled by shame and the sting of powerlessness. The magic that had been an extension of his very essence was now gone; it left him exposed, raw in a way that pained him more than his physical wounds.

Loki could feel the cold emanating from Thor’s posture in the chair across from him. His brother’s presence was like a statue- immovable, severe- a stark contrast to the warmth that usually radiated from the God of Thunder. Not that it wasn’t warranted– Loki had just yesterday killed a dear friend of Thor’s and the Avengers, plus countless other civilians.

“The Avengers and SHIELD want you to stay on the Eastern seaboard, so that they can easily keep an eye on you,” Thor’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cool.

“Great, I’m homeless on this godforsaken planet and I will be under surveillance by those who could never understand our ways,” Loki muttered to himself in a bitter tone, sighing as his eyes focused on nothing in the grey skies out the window.

“You know that Father was lenient. It’s only because of Mother that you were given this sentence, and not death,” he said, his tone more patronizing than Loki had ever heard it.

“And what of Thanos? Odin said nothing to the truths I laid out for him!,” Loki spat.

“Father will do what needs to be done. But you cannot deny your place in this scheme. What you have done. The lives you have taken in vain!,” Thor’s voice raised, echoing in the modern room.

Loki didn’t respond, he was done discussing this again with his family. Instead, he sat with the weight of the situation he had found himself in. That he had put himself in. He could almost taste the tang of his own pride as it fought against this imposed humility.

Thor shifted in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath his large build. He remained silent, the lines of his face taut with unresolved tension. The space between them was filled with the weight of yesterday’s tragedy, the lives lost lingering like specters in the air.

“Now we just have to find out what kind of Earth job suits you, and that Father would approve of,” he began, his voice echoing Odin’s edicts. “‘You must put in the work, help the Midgardians. And prove to them that we are not savages who have no regard for life on other realms.’”

The words hung between them, a gauntlet thrown at Loki’s feet. To labor among these mortals, to be judged by their standards and confined within their borders– this was his penance.

“How could you make amends to the people of Midgard? Through the arts? Hmm…an actor? You are dramatic and love to lie. You could probably make a fortune doing that if you wanted,” his voice dripped with irritation as his eyes bore into Loki.

Loki let out an almost inaudible snort and rolled his eyes while he continued to try to ignore Thor’s anger. He had thought the lowest point in his life was his falling from the rainbow bridge. But this was more public– a loss for all of Earth to witness. The humans saw him as a monster, a being woven from darkness and chaos here to destroy their world- just as the Frost Giants of his bedtime stories. Maybe the accusations of his heritage were right.

And yet, Thor was still helping him. A small pang of guilt surfaced– remorse for the lives lost, dreams shattered. Yes, they were mere mortals, but he had seen their courage, their capacity for love and sacrifice. In his heart, he knew what he had done was wrong. Even if there had been coercion, and magical forces, he had still committed atrocities.

“Perhaps there is some way to channel this penchant for knowledge you possess. You do love to read books…what about a librarian?,” Thor suggested to Loki, his annoyance growing at Loki’s refusal to participate.

Loki’s gaze snapped back to Thor, a flicker of irritation crossing his features, agitating the cuts on his face that mirrored his injured ego. “A librarian?,” he echoed, the word tasting like ash on his tongue. “You suggest I spend my days shuffling parchments and hushing children?”.

“An annoyance, I know,” Thor replied, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl into a smile. “But it would be an environment suited to your talents. And it may serve as penance of sorts.”

“And how exactly will that ‘improve our relations with the people of Earth’?” he drawled, the imitation of Odin so spot-on it bordered on mockery.

Thor’s patience, hanging by a thread, finally snapped. He stood abruptly, the chair beneath him screeching in protest against the polished floor. Loki felt himself jump slightly, surprised at Thor’s sudden movement.

“Loki, you best try harder,” Thor barked, his tone sharp. “As I’m doing all of the work and I am sick of the sight of you. You need to help me find the answer so we can end this.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths and the shadow of deeds that could not be undone. Loki felt the sting of Thor’s words deeper than he cared to admit. He truly was in a dark place, and his brother was ready to be rid of him. The pang hit unexpectedly, a sharp twinge that resonated somewhere deep within him– a place he rarely dared to explore. It was more than the sting of humiliation; it was a profound sense of loss.

“Thor,” he began, voice softer than he intended, “I know my actions have caused you pain.” The admission cost him, his pride chafing against the humility of the words.

Thor’s eyes snapped to him, searching, perhaps for a glimmer of the brother he once knew. Loki held that gaze, offering a silent pledge to try– he couldn’t erase all he’d done, but he could do this for him– help Thor with this decision.

“Let us consider this... fate,” Loki replied sullenly.

“Very well. A healer? Or a Doctor, as they’re called on Earth,” Thor suggested, his voice infused with a forced optimism that clashed with the tension that gripped the room.

“What, and work with humans when they are their most disgusting? No thank you,” Loki replied, folding his arms over his chest. Thor ignored Loki’s response, and walked over to a bookcase, running his thick fingers over the binds.

“I’ve got it! A teacher!,” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out like a revelation as he turned around to look at Loki, a proud smile starting to form on his lips.

Loki’s eyes met Thor’s in a glare, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, you’d be perfect! You could teach humans about Asgard!” His voice carried a note of excitement.

“And since you won’t have your magic, you’ll be relatively…harmless,” Thor’s brow furrowed as he drifted off in thought for a moment, knowing that wasn’t entirely true.

“I do not think I am the person to be teaching children,” Loki commented dryly.

“No, not children– they study as adults here, as well. Think about it– you’re fulfilling Father’s order to give back. And you’re so knowledgeable. Plus you could hold court and be the center of the room’s attention– you’d love that!,” a sad smile pulled at the corner of his mouth wistfully.

With a heavy sigh, Loki turned his gaze back to the window, where droplets of rain raced each other down the pane. Loki thought about this proposal, it was the best idea Thor had had. Loki couldn’t be bothered thinking about taking a Midgardian job– they all seemed terrible. But maybe this was the best option. He didn’t want to spend an extra minute here in this tower, in this city. He needed out.

“Great,” Loki muttered under his breath, “a pedagogue to these Midgardians.” He could already picture their puzzled faces as he unraveled the threads of ancient lore. Despite his frustration with his brother’s suggestion, a part of Loki couldn’t help but appreciate the poetic irony of it all.

Thor, however, seemed deflated, the lines of frustration etched upon his brow as he slumped back onto his chair, “Well, brother, I have tried. I don’t know what else to do, other than having SHIELD pick a job for you. And you probably would not like whatever that would entail.”

“Okay,” Loki said quietly with resignation as he felt the metaphorical door click on his new jail cell. His voice carried the faintest trace of defeat- or was it acceptance?- as his reality narrowed to the confines of this Midgardian existence.

Loki didn’t need to turn to know Thor’s eyes were upon him, searching for signs of sincerity or perhaps the glimmer of rebellion. “Thank you,” Loki murmured, almost too soft to hear over the drumming rain. “For your... persistence.” His admission hung between them like a delicate truce.

“Of course,” Thor responded, his tone carrying a hint of surprise. “You are my brother.”

Loki nodded, wrestling with the discomfort of his own vulnerability as he continued to look into the rain clouds outside of the window.

Now.

The slight breeze pulled the recently fallen leaves across the dark pavement of the parking lot with a skitter. It was a cool day for August– a promise of what was to come in the New England fall. Charlotte sighed contentedly as she looked at the apron thrown in a haphazard pile in her passenger seat.

Today marked her third shift at The Mudd Puddle, the quaint coffee shop that had quickly taken a spot in her routine. Nestled near the heart of the university, it was a sanctuary for over-caffeinated students and sleep-deprived professors alike.

Charlotte had arrived early for her shift and lingered in the sanctuary of her car. With the windows down, she let the sounds of distant chatter and the rustling of trees fill the space around her, a white noise backdrop to her wandering thoughts. For a few moments, her mind drifted to the recent months that had led up to her sitting in this car, in this parking lot, far away from home. All of the studying, all of the hard work– it brought her here, to this moment.

While she could’ve taken a gap year after she graduated with her bachelor’s, or entered the workplace, she had decided to start her masters program immediately. She’d be the youngest in the program, a fact that filled her with a mix of pride and trepidation. But this was her dream, crystallizing into reality at this very university. This anthropology program was one of the best in the country, and there was also an added bonus: Asgardian History and Culture with Professor Laufeyson.

In fact, his class was the reason she was here. Her mind danced through a montage of moments spent hunched over her laptop, replaying the few interviews Loki Laufeyson had given. His voice, filtered through speakers, had been a siren call to her hunger for knowledge.

Before she had arrived, Charlotte had envisioned the upcoming lectures– the gateways to worlds very few humans knew about. Loki Laufeyson, the handsome former God of Mischief turned professor, would be her guide through the tapestries of alien traditions and ancient stories. The very thought sent shivers down her spine.

Everything she had idealized for the former god as her teacher had come crashing down when her new boss, Kate, told her about how he really was. The reality being: Professor Laufeyson was a dick. And he was a repeat customer at the place she had coincidentally gotten a job at.

“So, you know “Professor” Laufeyson, right? The asshole who invaded New York and the Avengers had to stop?,” Kate had asked on Charlotte’s first day at The Mudd Puddle. Charlotte nodded, recalling how her heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name that had been echoing through her mind for months.

“Macchiatos are his thing, but he’s super particular,” Kate had continued, her brows knitting together in annoyance. “We called him the ‘macchiato menace’, and now he’s just the ‘menace’. He made one barista quit when he went off on her a couple of years ago.”

Charlotte remembered the shock that had bolted through her— the juxtaposition of her excitement over the lectures she yearned to attend and this unexpected revelation of his cruel nature.

“Really?” she had managed to say, trying to keep her voice light despite the unease coiling in her stomach.

“Yeah, but don’t worry too much. Just...be precise with his drinks, okay?,” Kate nodded reassuringly.

“Got it,” Charlotte had replied, more to herself than to Kate, not ready to tell her she would be in his class in a few weeks.

Now, sitting alone with the echo of that conversation playing in her mind, she refused to get worried over something that hadn’t happened yet. Who knows, maybe he would be nice to her?

Charlotte was thankful that at the very least she had decent people to work with. Her co-workers had been mostly friendly, and she had been enjoying the training with the owner of the shop, Kate. Kate was an amazing barista, and had even competed and won awards in her field. She was also a great boss, who was reasonable and level headed– something you didn’t always get in the restaurant industry.

An alarm went off on her phone, signaling to her it was time to head into the coffee shop. With a smile on her face, Charlotte pulled her chestnut colored hair into a ponytail and grabbed her apron, making her way inside. As she entered the small cafe, she was surprised to see how busy it was as she pushed past the crowd. Kate greeted her with a relieved face, “Boy am I glad to see you! Che called off, so it’s just you and me until relief comes at noon!”.

“Alright, let’s do this!,” Charlotte replied, her tone cheerful and determined despite the rush. She tied her apron strings with nimble fingers and joined Kate, ready to tackle the wave of customers.

This shift had been particularly difficult, and nothing like her first weeks here. While Charlotte tackled the register, the crowd got busier and ruder. It was back to school season, and the bustling crowd had become impatient this morning. A forced smile had quickly plastered on her face as she treated each customer like they were her favorite just as Kate had taught her. An hour flew by in what felt like minutes.

Charlotte’s fingers danced across the register keys with a deftness while the coffee shop buzzed, each customer’s voice stacking atop another in a cacophony of demands. The queue snaked out the door, a relentless stream feeding people into the cramped space. Yet, somewhere amidst the bustle, Charlotte managed a smile and found solace in the rhythm; take an order, give a muffin, smile, repeat.

“Hey, Char, can you grab another box of chai tea bags from the back?,” Kate’s voice cut through the commotion, her tattooed arms flexing as she steamed milk with precision.

“Got it, Kate,” Charlotte replied, darting to the storage room and back with a nimbleness that surprised even her. She was learning, adapting, and the curveballs thrown by the crowd were no longer daunting.

“Thank you! Have a great day!,” she chimed to another satisfied customer. Today’s shift would not defeat her.

The atmosphere subtly shifted, like the hush that falls over an audience before the curtains rise. A tall figure materialized at the back of the line, his presence alone a silent command for attention. Whispers began to weave through the throng of people. Younger students craned their necks, some daring to giggle and point as they turned on their heels to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

Charlotte’s breath caught as he began to move, the crowd parting with reluctant awe. He strode forward with an air of entitlement and grace, bypassing the waiting patrons. She felt herself stiffen, the surprise etching itself across her expressive features as Professor Laufeyson approached, cutting through the line to stand before her.

“Excuse me! There’s a line!” someone called out, their protest feeble against his confident advance. The professor ignored it.

Charlotte found herself tempering her expectations about Professor Laufeyson as he stepped up towards the counter, towering over her in a finely tailored black suit and a placid look on his face. Should she tell him she’ll be seeing him next week? That she couldn’t wait to start his class? No, that’d be a weird thing to do. It’d be better to act like she doesn’t know who he is.

She couldn’t believe how handsome he was in real life. Like, stunningly so. She was not prepared for that. Sunlight from the window caught the angles of his face, casting light and shadow over the high plains of his cheekbones. His hair, the color of a raven’s wing, was pulled behind his ears; shorter than she’d seen it before. It suited him. The sexy curls of his hair framed his jawline, and danced above the lapel of his suit, which hugged his form with the precision only bespoke tailoring could afford. His appearance in the humdrum coffee shop seemed out of place.

“Good morning,” her cheerful voice clung to the professionalism that had served her well throughout the morning rush.

Keep it together, she mentally chastised herself for the nervous flutter in her stomach. Her fingers betrayed her composure with a slight tremble, an involuntary reaction to the man who now demanded her attention.

“Good morning,” Professor Laufeyson gently smiled, his blue eyes nearly sparkling.

“What can I get you?,” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’d like a macchiato, please,” he calmly requested, his eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than necessary.

She replied, “Sure thing!,” and put in his order, trying to focus on acting like this was no big deal. He paid in silence, his attention turning towards the crowd behind him with a smile. With the transaction complete, Professor Laufeyson acknowledged Charlotte with a nod and then turned and strolled towards the serving area where his order would soon appear.

That wasn’t so bad. He seemed to be in a good mood.

Charlotte watched him go, admiring the confident set of his shoulders, the effortless way he navigated the bustling space. As he disappeared from her line of sight, Charlotte exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her pulse still raced, but she found solace in the small victory of having handled their interaction with outward poise.

“Excuse me, hello?,” a voice jolted her back to the present, and she turned to face the new wave of customers.

“Good morning!,” Her self assuredness returned in full force as she greeted the fresh-faced group before her– a gaggle of freshmen flanked by their equally eager parents. They crowded around the counter, bright-eyed and buzzing.The order was very complicated, and she struggled to take everything right. Double shots, extra shots, no foams, the ticket for the 6 drinks was ridiculous.

Charlotte’s hands hovered over the register, her fingers fumbling as she tried to focus on the screen in front of her. Her concentration was tested by the crowd’s discussion of Professor Laufeyson, who stood casually at the pickup counter, reading his phone.

“Isn’t that Thor’s brother?,” someone murmured, a ripple of excitement passing through the crowd.

“Looks way younger than I thought,” another voice joined in, edged with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“I can’t believe the school lets a terrorist teach a class,” an older man gruffly commented.

“Well, if the Avengers approved it, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s been teaching here for years, and nothing’s happened,” a father in the group contributed with self assured authority.

Charlotte hit the wrong button, then another, and with a sigh, deleted the drink from the order for the third time. She could feel her cheeks flush warmly with a blend of embarrassment and frustration.

“Sorry,” she mumbled more to herself more than anyone else, re-entering the details yet again. She could feel the impatience growing in the line as she nodded thanks, looking towards the next in line.

The next order was also a group– more complicated requests, and it took Charlotte three tries to ring them up correctly. Doesn’t anyone just order regular coffee anymore??, she thought to herself.

Kate, usually easy going, was now a portrait of strained patience, her arms moving in a blur as she crafted drinks as quickly as possible. “Damn it,” Kate exhaled, the sound barely audible over the grind of coffee beans and the hiss of steam wands. Charlotte glanced at the clock: thirty minutes before help was to arrive.

They were officially in the weeds, and Charlotte was still new, so she didn’t know how to help Kate make the orders she had just taken.

Three teenagers walked up, one of them with Instagram open and a picture of a coffee drink. She knew they were about to order some random concoction that had become viral. Just what she and Kate needed.

Panic started to creep in, as the front door bell went off again, and Charlotte saw the line now going out the front door. She felt her chest tighten as she tried to concentrate on the customers, and ignore the eyerolls in the back of the line.

“Can you add an extra shot to that latte?,” asked an annoyed man in a crumpled suit, phone wedged between shoulder and ear.

CRASH. Charlotte jumped as her head turned towards the sound of the calamity, and saw Kate had dropped a mug on the floor, sending porcelain shattering everywhere. The crowd quieted for a moment. Charlotte told the next couple in line to hold on a moment as she checked on the mess.

She took the brief moment to take a deep breath as she walked over to Kate. “Is there anything I can help you with?,” she asked hopefully, while Kate pulled blonde strands of hair behind her ear and reached for the broom and began to sweep up her mess.

“Keep the line moving, Char. I’ve got this,” she reassured her.

“Ummm excuse me- I ordered oat milk- this tastes like regular milk,” a young teenage boy no older than thirteen claimed with a condescending tone to Kate from the pick up counter.

Charlotte wanted to reach over the counter and smack him– she knew Kate wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. This morning was getting more intense by the minute, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was assholes. As the boy tapped his foot impatiently, a surge of protectiveness washed over Charlotte. Her cheerful facade wavered, the edges of her smile hardening into something less inviting.

“Oh, it’s oat milk,” Kate replied with a sickeningly sweet tone as she bent over and picked up the big shards on the floor, not looking at him.

“Shit!,” she muttered under her breath as she stood up to look at Charlotte.

Charlotte saw the red seeping out of Kate’s finger, a cut from a piece of porcelain. Kate dumped the last of the mess into the trash, and shot Charlotte a “Can you fucking believe this??” look. She wrapped her cut finger in a paper towel.

“Can you just redo it? It tastes funny,” the teen replied to anyone who would listen, rolling his eyes.

“Of course, dear, I just need to go clean myself up first,” Kate walked up to Charlotte, lowering her voice.

“I’m going to tell the people at the register it’s going to be a few minutes, and try to calm them down before they start flipping their shit. Can you make that little asshole’s cappuccino? Oat milk,” she sarcastically saluted Charlotte.

“Uh– yea, I can try,” Charlotte nodded, heading to the cappuccino machine.

Out of her periphery, she saw Professor Laufeyson walk up to the counter, standing next to the teenage boy. She shook her head, dreading what could possibly happen next.

Charlotte completed the drink and delivered the coffee to the teen, “OAT. MILK.,” she enunciated, forcing a smile as much as she could, but she was sure appeared more like a sneer.

Then came the voice, deep and unamused, slicing through the coffee shop chatter like a blade, “This macchiato is not up to acceptable standards.”

Charlotte looked to her new teacher and saw a look of disapproval on his perfect face and tried to bring herself to smile at him, but she wasn’t sure if she was pulling it off.

“Yea we’ll get to it in a minute, the line’s backed up, and–”, Charlotte tried to placate him while internally she felt like she might snap. This shift had been too much, and dealing with “The Menace” was the last thing she wanted. Her fascination with him from his arrival quickly vanished, and annoyance began to set in.

“I do not have time. You will remake mine now, as I was here first.” His tone grew more stern, and his brows furrowed.

“Yes, sir, I get it, but we’re understaffed and I’m new. We’re trying.” She tried to hide her irritated tone unsuccessfully as she looked around at the chaos unfolding in the entryway. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks, the frustration and embarrassment of not being able to do her job getting to her. She hated feeling like this.

“Trying? Well that’s not good enough, is it?,” he shot back at her, setting his cup down on the counter with emphasis.

If there was one thing that really bothered her, it was treating service workers like shit. Charlotte’s heart pounded a furious rhythm. His words were a slap to her pride, a dismissal of her efforts. She felt herself snap.

“Look- I don’t know how to make one,” she could feel her blood pressure rise with anger as her voice raised and she met his steely blue eyes with a glare, the professor’s haughty attitude getting under her skin.

“Hey- are we going to get some help down here??,” a man at the register yelled down to Charlotte. She looked back over to see the line of customers looking mad, some throwing their arms up in the air.

“You’re just going to have to wait, like everyone else,” Charlotte said to her professor, venom appearing in her tone more than she had planned as she gestured to the situation unraveling around them.

“Excuse me?? Do you know who I am?,” Loki’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at the small woman, stepping closer.

“Yes I do, and like I said, I literally don’t know how to make your damn drink, so you’re just going to have to wait!!,” her raised voice cutting through the air, sharp and reckless, as her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a battle drum urging her on.

Professor Laufeyson’s face was a canvas of barely restrained fury, his eyes darkening like storm clouds over an ocean. His stature loomed, a tower of indignation. Charlotte could feel every eye upon them, and her chest tightened with a cocktail of rage and mortification as she tried to ignore it.

The look in his eyes grew meaner. “You’re incredibly disrespectful for someone who can’t even make a simple coffee at her coffee shop job!” Professor Laufeyson snapped, his voice now threatening.

Is this the part where I'm supposed to cower? Fuck that!

The corners of her mind whispered defiance, but aloud, nothing came– only the sound of her own breath, ragged and quick.

“Heeyyyy….,” Kate’s melodious voice interrupted the tension between them as she quickly sidled up to Charlotte.

“Finally, someone competent. You will re-make my macchiato, and this time, you will be less heavy handed with the milk,” he demanded, his focus shifting to Kate.

“Absolutely, Professor. I’ll get on that right now,” Kate’s hand gently pressed against Charlotte’s back, pushing her away from impending disaster.

“Girl, what are you doing? He’s not the one to mess with,” she whispered as she ushered Charlotte away from Laufeyson.

Charlotte turned quickly, plastering on a sweet smile again for the irritated man at the register. She could feel her hand shaking as she rang him up, her mind racing about what had just transpired. Even though this customer was also an asshole, he only annoyed her. Professor Laufeyson’s attitude and entitlement genuinely made her want to fight.

As her Professor, finally satisfied, left the cafe without a look in her direction, Charlotte knew one thing for certain: she was not looking forward to class with him next week.

Loki, irritated about the incident at the coffee shop, loudly slammed the door to his office. The insolence. He shook his head as he thought about the young woman who dared to give him attitude. He couldn’t believe the audacity of such a simple human brashly arguing with him like that in the coffee shop he had been frequenting since he’d moved here. Loki huffed, trying to push her out of his mind as he sank into the large brown chesterfield couch in his office.

He sat quietly for a moment, refocusing his attention on his surroundings. Naturally, he had been able to get himself the best office on campus. After thousands of years, humans were still easily manipulated into giving him what he wanted. His office was tucked away in the library building, where it was quiet. It was also huge, with large windows overlooking the south quad. Loki hated to admit that the view was gorgeous, and that he had started to get attached to this space. This had become his sanctuary when he was on campus. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his head rested on the back of the couch.

Five years down. They had been the longest in his life. And he still had no idea how much longer he’d be here. Twenty years? Fifty years? While the time should go quickly for the former god, the days were feeling longer, and a sense of restlessness had taken hold of him.

He would’ve preferred jail to this. He could just sit and read. Instead, he was made to get a job. Like a peasant. Odin knew exactly what he was doing when he delivered this punishment.

On top of the mundane life that Loki now led, he felt bound up not being able to use his magic. It was as if someone had tied his arms behind his back– the feeling of the phantoms of magic tingling his fingertips, never to truly form. Yes, he still knew his spells. He still had the innate knowledge of a divine magic user– but Odin had stripped him of the ability to use it. It was as useless to him as it was to mortals.

A new fear had begun to creep into the back of his mind over the past few months– that he would never have his magic returned. That he may remain mortal forever. That fear was the worst that plagued Loki, and he pushed it away to the farthest reaches of his mind, locked tight in a box he tried to ignore.

His dreams of late had taken him to previous battles, or chaotic cosmic events where he was able to truly be himself. But the reality of his life now was that there was no excitement, no thrills that satisfied him.

He had tried to fill this void when he first arrived by partying and fucking nearly half the city. Debauchery had been a great distraction, but that enthusiasm waned over time. Then he started joining dojos and trying to get accepted into local weapons clubs. He was quickly kicked out of all of them– mortal men do not like being shown up by a 1200 year old former god. And Loki wasn’t challenged, it was just too easy. He briefly missed Thor– he was a formidable opponent to spar with.

Whenever Thor was on Earth, he would text Loki, reaching out to check in. Loki ignored those texts. It was bad enough that the Avengers would sometimes send someone to check in on him, showing up nonchalantly and disrupting his class. It was a reminder that he was in prison, and they were his jailors. Loki sneered a look of disgust thinking about their patronizing attitude. Everyone– Thor, the Avengers, SHIELD– was waiting to see him fuck up. Make one mistake, then he’s done. Odin would have no qualms with bringing Loki’s life to an unceremonious end.

But Loki had stayed here this long, and one day, he’ll be out of here. He just needed to ignore this new, clawing feeling of agitation that had begun to grow in the last couple of months.

Loki had also changed a small amount since he had been banished here, and he knew it. Softened. He had even begun to enjoy some of the student’s conversations last year. So maybe the growing feeling of unease was because he knew he was changing? Or was it the mischief– calling to him, urging him to cause disruption again? He had walked the straight and narrow for years…it was exhausting fighting against his own nature constantly. And boring.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself as he relaxed in the warm yellow glow of the room, picking up the class roster and reviewing the list of names. Twenty five students, full class again. At least half of them would be gone by the end of the semester. They normally started off the year excited, asking him a bunch of inane questions in the beginning (this year he was going to start the first class with an FAQ to get those out of the way).

But once they saw how rigorous the class was, and learned about Loki’s high standards, most dropped the class. Last year he was lucky to have a few very enthusiastic students who seemed genuinely interested in Asgard. It was often a mix of students who just wanted to brag about being there, those who were trying to fuck him (or trying to fuck Thor somehow), or lazy students who were taking the class because their parents made them.

Loki stood and walked over to his record player, pulling out a favorite recording of Caprices of Paginini, and put it on, sighing. He stepped over to his large mahogany desk and opened his laptop for the first time since school had let out in May.

He had spent the summer as he did every year on Midgard– exploring the far reaches of the planet. He figured that if he was stuck here, he may as well approach this realm with scholarly zeal. The planet had pleasantly surprised him in its range of biomes, cultures, sights, and foods. Somewhere along the line, Loki began to appreciate parts of living on Earth. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but there were some things he truly enjoyed that humans had produced.

He spent a few minutes reviewing his emails, nothing of much importance that he had to respond to. They wanted him to do another speaker night, of course. That was a big donor night. And the librarian, Ms. Warren, who had a very obvious crush on him, informed him of the new literature they had stocked for the year. Nothing interesting there.

Loki unceremoniously closed the computer, bored with its contents. His thoughts drifted again to the young woman in the coffee shop, spitting attitude and disrespect towards him. He felt his irritation building back in his chest. She was a nobody, and she dared to speak to him like that. Why did it bother him so much?

Chapter 2

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#loki fanfic #dom!loki smut #lyhom #professor laufeyson #prof!loki #professor loki

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