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You sat in the windowsill, the glass cold against your back in the spring night. Your tail flicked lazily side to side, though each movement felt restless, a silent betrayal of your attempt to find calm. Your ears lay flat against your head, mirroring the tension that coiled in your chest. You stared at your reflection in the glass, unable to look away. You would never get used to the sight—the scar running jaggedly across your face, the fur that covered you like a prison you couldn’t escape.Reaching up, you traced your reflection’s scar, as though hoping that she—the girl in the glass—might find solace in your touch. Maybe she deserved comfort more than you did. You traced the line again and again, forward and back, your furry fingertips gliding smoothly over the cold pane. The silence of the night wrapped around you like a heavy blanket—comforting in its stillness but isolating all the same. You lowered your hand and looked past your own haunted eyes into the world outside.From this height in Stark Tower, New York City stretched out before you like a living thing—vibrant, chaotic, alive in ways you couldn’t seem to be anymore. The lights from office windows glimmered faintly in the distance; cars crawled through congested streets like veins pumping life into a body that didn’t know you existed. It was surreal how much life carried on without you. It always had. And yet here you were—stuck in this form, stuck in this endless cycle of self-loathing and regret.Your tail flicked back and forth over the edge of the windowsill like a pendulum. You ran your fingers over the dark stripes in your orange fur on your exposed thigh, long healed wounds with Tony’s nanotechnology, but the color remained. It had faded from black to a dull brown, and you had picked up the habit of plucking it out, hating the way it made you look – beaten. I just want to be happy, you thought bitterly, pulling at the hair until it came loose with a sting. Something deep inside screamed back: You don’t deserve it."Ironic, isn't it?"The voice startled you out of your thoughts, and your ears twitched upright instinctively as you turned to see Loki standing behind you. He was dressed casually—grey sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt—but there was nothing casual about his presence. He seemed to fill every corner of the room without trying.“What is?” you asked softly, closing your eyes for a moment as if bracing yourself for whatever he might say.“A cat in a windowsill,” he replied with a faint smirk.You chuckled under your breath—a hollow sound that held no real mirth—and shifted slightly on the ledge, curling closer to the cool glass as if it could shield you from his gaze.“Sit with me,” you murmured after a pause, not looking at him but feeling his presence move closer anyway. From the corner of your eye, you watched him settle into the nook across from you. He didn’t speak right away; he didn’t need to. He knew why you were here—why this particular window held your attention tonight. It wasn’t just about watching the city or losing yourself in its distant hum of life. It was about that hospital visible just beyond the skyline—the one where someone who had once mattered so much to you had breathed their last.Because of you.Loki watched you intently. Wordlessly, he reached over, his hand upturned and waiting patiently. You glanced down at his hand, then up to his eyes. He stared right back into yours, expression unreadable. You hesitated only briefly before placing your hand in his; his skin was cool against yours, colder even than the glass behind you. He squeezed gently—a silent acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you—and together, you turned back to stare out at the city.The silence stretched on for what felt like hours but might have only been minutes. Your legs folded up at some point—one knee pressed tightly against your chest while the other leg dangled over the edge of the sill, matching the swaying of your tail—and when you adjusted your athletic shorts, Loki’s gaze flicked down briefly before he sighed deeply.“How much longer are you planning to wallow in self-pity tonight?” he asked finally, his tone light but tinged with something heavier—concern disguised as exasperation.You didn’t flinch at his words; they were too familiar by now. “As long as it takes to make my heart stop aching,” you replied numbly.“And what makes it ache so?” His question was soft—not prying but offering—and yet it cut through you like a knife all the same.You swallowed hard and looked down at your lap where his hand still rested over yours. What made it ache? Was it grief? Guilt? The memory of your friend’s face twisted in fear just before everything exploded? Or was it something deeper—the gnawing certainty that no matter how hard you tried or how much time passed, you would never be enough?Your breath hitched as memories clawed their way forward—the flashback playing out vividly behind closed eyes: It had been an accident—a moment of panic when everything spiraled out of control before you'd even understood what was happening. One second he was standing there—your best friend smiling softly at some joke you'd made—and then... light erupted from within you like a bomb detonating without warning. The heat scorched everything around you; his face twisted into something unrecognizable before he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.You’d screamed his name—for help—for anyone—but it was too late. He died because of you. Because you were weak and out of control. The memory left an ache so deep it felt carved into your very bones—a wound that would never heal no matter how many times Tony assured you it wasn’t your fault or how many nights Natasha sat beside you while tears soaked into her shoulder.“I don’t belong here,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Not with them—not with any of them.”Loki tilted his head slightly but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.“They pity me,” you spat bitterly, pulling your hand away from his as anger flared in your chest. “They look at me like I’m some broken thing they can fix—or worse… like I’m dangerous.”“And are they wrong?” Loki asked quietly—not accusingly but with an honesty that stung nonetheless.Your breath hitched as tears welled up unbidden in your eyes. “I killed someone,” you whispered hoarsely, voice cracking under the weight of those three words. “Someone I cared about… someone who trusted me.” You looked down at your hands—at claws that had once been human fingers—and clenched them into fists. “How can I ever be good enough after that?”Loki’s expression softened slightly as he leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee while studying you intently. “Do you think I haven’t asked myself that same question?” he said finally.You blinked at him through tear-blurred vision but didn’t respond. You thought back to that night in the library, probably only a week ago now, when you had your panic attack in front of him.
“I’ll take care of you.” He let you pull back for a second, allowing you space to breathe.
You sniffled, rubbing the snot off your fur with the back of your hand. “It’s rotten work.”
“Not to me.” He brushed his hand lightly over your cheek, and you reached up to keep his hand there. The look in his eyes was soft. “Not if it’s you.”
“I don’t know.” You whispered. Loki squeezed your hand, looking at you.“I have done things far worse than what haunts you,” he continued quietly, his voice steady despite its weight. “And yet here I am—still breathing… still fighting.”“But why?” The question escaped before you could stop it—a desperate plea for understanding.“Because there is no other choice,” Loki said simply. “We carry our burdens because we must—not because we deserve forgiveness or redemption but because giving up would mean letting them win. Don’t allow your heart to ache without a reason.” Loki leaned in closer, wiping away another tear. You sniffled, looking deep into his eyes, searching for the answer, for why you were in agony. Your breath hitched again as fresh tears spilled freely down your cheeks now—not just from guilt but from fear: What if Loki was no different? What if he didn’t really care about me at all? Why would he? What if I was just another pawn—a means to an end?But then his hand cupped your cheek gently—his thumb brushing away one tear before leaning forward until his forehead rested against yours. In the moonlight shining softly through the window, his face was full of understanding, of sympathy. And for once, you accepted it.“My biggest fear,” You started, pressing your face into his hand, the one not holding his in your lap coming up to your cheek to intertwine your fingers from behind. His hand on your face, your hand on the back of his, melded perfectly together, “is that you will eventually see me the way I see myself.”“And what way is that?” He asked quietly.You closed your eyes. “A monster.”You felt him falter, silently feeling like you knew this would happen. You knew deep down he would pull away once you said the words, once you were finally honest.“You are no more a monster than I.”Something inside cracked open at those words—the walls you'd built around yourself trembling under their weight—and when his lips brushed yours moments later, it felt like falling into something warm and safe for once instead of endless darkness.For one fleeting moment… everything felt okay.You laughed weakly, grateful. Loki opened his mouth, as if to say something, before shutting it again, still staring into your beautiful golden eyes. Your heartbeat slowed, a calm washing over you as you finally felt peace, like you were at home only with him.Loki breathed your name faintly, your ears flicking slightly to catch the sound. You closed your eyes, breathing his name back. He was less than an inch from you, having slowly moved closer during your quiet conversation. The window was cold against your arm, and the moon watched as you shared your first kiss.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You sighed as you flipped the "Open” sign on the crystal shop's door, the weight of another day's financial worries settling on your shoulders. The rent for your tiny studio apartment was due soon, and sales had been slow. Again. Part of you wondered if today would be the day you finally admitted defeat, closed up shop for good, and went looking for a "real" job. But the thought stung. Your crystal shop was more than just a business; it was your passion, and the thought of letting it go felt like losing a piece of yourself.The Mystic Grove was a narrow storefront wedged between a laundromat and a bodega in the bustling city of New York, its windows cluttered with crystals and sun-faded posters. Inside, mismatched wooden shelves sagged under the weight of eclectic inventory - some professionally displayed, others looking like they'd been arranged in a hurry. Handmade signs with slightly crooked lettering marked different sections: Tarot, Herbs, Crystals, Books. A small space heater hummed in the corner, competing with the soft background noise of wind chimes and a vintage CD player playing low-volume world music. The smell was a mix of sandalwood incense, old paper, and something vaguely herbal - not quite pleasant, but not unpleasant either. Dust danced in the light filtering through windows that could use a good cleaning.As the morning progressed, a steady trickle of customers came through. There was Sarah, a young Wiccan practitioner looking for a new athame for her altar. You helped her choose a beautiful obsidian blade, its handle inlaid with moonstone. Then came Mr. Chen, an elderly gentleman who swore by your special blend of calming tea. His wrinkled face lit up as you handed him a fresh batch.Just before noon, a group of giggling teenagers wandered in, drawn by the crystal display in the window. You patiently explained the properties of different stones, steering them away from the more expensive items towards some lovely, affordable tumbled agates.On your lunch break, you slumped back in your worn-out office chair, the glow of the laptop screen reflecting in your tired eyes. Ordering new inventory for the crystal shop was always a tedious task, especially when funds were tight. You meticulously scrolled through the online catalog, searching for affordable books on crystal healing, tarot, and aromatherapy – the usual bestsellers.As you clicked on a link to a metaphysical book distributor, a brightly colored advertisement suddenly popped up, vying for your attention. Usually, you'd close them immediately, but this one caught your eye. It featured a striking cover image of Norse gods, their faces etched with wisdom and power. The title blared in bold letters: "Myths and Legends of the Norse Pantheon."On a hunch, you added a dozen copies of the Norse mythology book to your cart, along with a few introductory guides to runes and some books on Viking history. Taking a bite of your sandwich, you clicked "Confirm Order," and sat back, staring at the ceiling.Running the shop wasn’t hard, and you did enjoy doing it, but it wasn’t profitable enough. Impulse purchases like this were exactly why you were going under, and you chided yourself as you took another frustrated bite of your sandwich. Glancing at the time on your laptop, you sighed and stood up, heading out your office door to open the shop back up.After unlocking the door, you leaned against the counter of your shop, absently polishing a piece of smoky quartz. The store was quiet, as it often was on Tuesday afternoons. The scent of sandalwood incense hung in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of herbs and the faint mustiness of old books.Your eyes smoothed over the familiar shelves lined with an eclectic mix of items: intricately carved wooden runes, colorful tarot decks, delicate crystal pendulums, and well-worn tomes on various pagan traditions. While business wasn't booming, you took pride in the loyal community you'd built over the years.Just as you were considering tidying up the herb section, the bell above the door chimed. You looked up to see Margaret, one of your regular customers, enter. Her silver pentacle necklace glinted in the soft light of the shop."Blessed be, dear," Margaret greeted you warmly. "I'm in need of some more mugwort for my dream pillows. And perhaps a new candle for my Hecate altar?"You smiled, grateful for the familiar face and the small but steady stream of income your regulars provided. "Of course, Margaret. I just got a new shipment of black beeswax candles that would be perfect for Hecate."As you helped Margaret gather her items, you couldn't help your mind from wandering. The shop was your passion, a labor of love that allowed you to serve the pagan community. But the financial reality was always there, lurking in the background. Rent was due soon, and the stack of bills in your back office seemed to grow taller each day.You rang up Margaret's purchases, exchanging pleasant small talk about her upcoming full moon ritual. As she left, waving goodbye, you felt a mixture of gratitude and anxiety. Your regulars kept you afloat, but just barely. You wondered, not for the first time, if you should expand your offerings or try to attract a broader customer base.The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. You restocked shelves, answered a few questions from a nervous newcomer about choosing their first tarot deck, and did a quick cleansing of the shop's energy. As closing time approached, you found yourself standing before your personal altar in the back room, lighting a candle."I'm grateful for what I have," you murmured to the flickering flame, "but I could use a little help here. Any deity listening, I'm open to guidance."As you locked up for the night, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. Whether it would be for better or worse, you couldn't say. But in the world of magic and spirituality you'd immersed yourself in, you knew better than to ignore such feelings.You took one last look at your beloved shop before heading home, hoping that tomorrow might bring the spark of inspiration - or the influx of customers - you so desperately needed.The next morning, you arrived at The Mystic Grove earlier than usual, driven by a strange sense of anticipation. As you unlocked the door, a gust of wind rushed past you, scattering leaves across the threshold. You paused, wondering if it was a sign, but shook off the thought and stepped inside. Don’t be silly, it’s just wind. Not everything is a divine occurrence, you thought, flipping the “Open” signAs you went about your opening routine, odd occurrences kept piling up. First, you found a crow feather on the counter, right next to your Morrigan statue. "Ah, the Morrigan's reaching out," you mused, placing the feather reverently at the statue's base.Later when the postman stopped by with your orders, a shipment of crystals arrived with an extra stone - a piece of red jasper shaped eerily like a flame. You displayed it prominently, knowing it was no mistake. “Brigid, how thoughtful,” you murmured to yourself.After lunch, you turned to water the plants and nearly dropped the watering can. The ivy you'd been struggling to keep alive for months had suddenly sprouted new growth, its tendrils forming an intricate pattern that looked suspiciously like a rune. "Freya?" you wondered aloud, thinking of the Norse goddess's association with growth and fertility.Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the divine attention, you decided to do a quick divination. You reached for your trusty rune bag, but as you did, your elbow knocked over a stack of books. They fell open to pages about tricksters and chaos. "Oh, Eris," you chuckled, "I see you're in a playful mood today."Throughout the day, more strange events occurred. A customer's card reading was interrupted by a sudden gust of strong breeze from the ceiling fan that rearranged the cards. "Ah, Hermes must be feeling mischievous," you explained to the bewildered client.You were tidying up the shop, still puzzled by the strange occurrences of the day, when the bell above the door chimed. A tall, slender man with shoulder-length black hair and piercing green eyes stepped inside. He wore a sleek black suit that seemed slightly out of place among the mystical items surrounding him."Welcome to The Mystic Grove," you greeted, trying to hide your exhaustion from the day's events. "Is there anything I can help you find?"The man's lips curled into a subtle smirk as he glanced around the shop. "Oh, I'm just browsing," he said, his voice smooth and refined. "You have quite the... interesting collection here."As he meandered through the aisles, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him. He picked up a crystal, turning it over in his long, elegant fingers. "Tell me," he said, "have you noticed anything... unusual today?"You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal to a stranger. "It's been an odd day," you admitted cautiously.The man's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Odd how?" he pressed, setting down the crystal and moving closer to the counter where you stood."Well," you began, "there have been some strange signs. I thought they might be messages from the gods, but I can't quite figure out which one."The man's smirk widened into a grin. "How fascinating," he said, leaning against the counter. "And what gods did you think might be reaching out?"You recounted the day's events, mentioning your guesses about the Morrigan, Brigid, Freya, Eris, and Hermes. With each name, the man's expression grew more incredulous, a mix of amusement and exasperation playing across his features.As you finished your tale, the man pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "My dear," he said, his voice a blend of frustration and amusement, "I believe you've missed the rather obvious answer." With that, he strode out the door, leaving you even more confused than before.After a quick offer and prayer at your alter, you locked up for the night and went home.The next evening, the same man from the night before sauntered in with an air of casual superiority. "Ah, the delightful aroma of false hope and overpriced minerals," he quipped.You raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you find anything specific this time?""Oh, I doubt it," he smirked, green eyes glinting with amusement. "But do entertain me with your... expertise."Despite his sarcasm, you found yourself drawn into witty banter as he perused the shelves, making clever observations about various items. He left without buying anything, but promised to return.On Friday just before closing, true to his word, he reappeared. "Still peddling cosmic solutions to mundane problems, I see," he greeted you.You couldn't help but smile. "And you're still here, so clearly we're doing something right."He chuckled, picking up a book on Norse mythology. "Interesting choice of inventory," he mused, flipping through the pages. "Though I daresay the authors have taken some... creative liberties."As he continued to visit, you noticed he seemed particularly interested in items related to trickster gods and chaos magic. He'd often make cryptic comments that left you puzzled, and strange occurrences seemed to follow in his wake - books falling open to specific pages, crystals rearranging themselves when your back was turned.Sunday evening, just as you were about to close up shop, he appeared once again. "Tell me," he said, leaning against the counter, "have you figured it out yet?"You furrowed your brow. "Figured what out?"He sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you were perceptive. No matter, I suppose the game continues." With a wink, he turned to leave. "Until next time, my dear. Do try to keep up."As the bell chimed behind him, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were missing something obvious. But what it was, you couldn't quite grasp.After a rather odd dream and even more odd signs from throughout the week, you spent the day rearranging the shop, creating a new "Chaos Corner" filled with items related to various trickster and chaos deities. Loki's section was particularly well-stocked, featuring small statues, rune charms, and altar items you'd hastily ordered. As closing time approached, you felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness.Right on cue, the bell chimed, and your enigmatic customer strolled in. His green eyes widened slightly as he took in the new display."Well, well," he drawled, sauntering over to the Chaos Corner. "It seems you've been busy. Quite the... eclectic collection you've amassed here."You watched as he examined a small Loki figurine, his long fingers tracing the horned helmet. "Interesting choice of focus," he mused, a smirk playing at his lips. "Though I must say, the likeness is rather... lacking.""Oh?" You replied, trying to keep your voice casual. "Are you particularly familiar with Norse mythology?"He chuckled, setting down the figurine. "You could say that. I find the subject endlessly... amusing."As he perused the other chaos deity items, you couldn't help but notice how his gaze kept returning to the Loki section. He picked up a rune charm, turning it over in his hands.
"Tell me," he said, his tone deceptively light, "what inspired this sudden interest in chaos deities?"You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Just a hunch," you finally said. "Something told me it was time for a change."He raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eye. "A hunch, you say? How... fortuitous."As he made his way to the counter, you noticed a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, my dear," he said, placing the rune charm on the counter, "it seems your... hunch may pay off after all. I'll take this. For now."As you wrapped his purchase, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were still missing something obvious. But what it was remained frustratingly out of reach.A few days passed, and the impeccably dressed man didn't return. You found yourself glancing at the door more often than usual, a strange sense of… something… fluttering in your chest. It wasn't quite disappointment, maybe more like a restless curiosity. You quickly dismissed it, attributing it to the unpredictable nature of retail."He was probably just a bored rich guy with a penchant for sarcasm," you told yourself, rearranging a display of amethyst geodes. "No need to get all worked up over one eccentric customer."During the day, you focused on your other customers. You helped a young woman choose a crystal to calm her anxiety, offered guidance to a student struggling to interpret tarot cards, and shared brewing tips with an elderly witch seeking the perfect yarrow tea. You enjoyed these interactions, the genuine connections you made with people seeking comfort and guidance in the mystical.In the evenings, after closing up shop, you'd retreat to your apartment, pouring over Norse Mythology for Smart People and various translations of the Eddas. You found yourself drawn to the character of Loki, his complexities and contradictions resonating with something deep within you. He was a trickster, a shapeshifter, a bringer of chaos, but also a catalyst for change, a force that challenged the status quo."Okay, so he's more than just a bored rich guy," you conceded one evening, as you highlighted a passage about Loki's role in the creation of Thor's hammer. "But that doesn't mean I miss him or anything."You slammed the book shut, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I just... appreciate his appreciation for my carefully curated selection of chaos deity merchandise," you muttered to the empty room. Determined to put the enigmatic customer out of your mind, you brewed a cup of chamomile tea and settled in for an early night.Needing a change of pace, you decided to host a tarot reading night after several customers had inquired about it. You created a simple but eye-catching flyer advertising "Mystic Grove Tarot Night: Unveil Your Future in 15 Minutes!" and taped it to your storefront window. The response was better than you'd anticipated, and soon you had a full evening of back-to-back appointments scheduled.On the night of the event, you transformed the back of your shop into a cozy reading nook. You draped a velvet cloth over a small table, set out your favorite tarot deck, and lit some sandalwood incense to set the mood.Your first client was a nervous college student named Jake. As he sat down, you could see his hands shaking slightly."First tarot reading?" you asked gently.He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I'm... I'm not sure what to expect."You smiled reassuringly. "Just relax and keep an open mind. The cards are here to guide, not to frighten."As you began the reading, Jake's nervousness melted away. The cards spoke of academic success and new friendships. By the end of the session, he was beaming."Thank you so much," he said as he left. "I feel... lighter somehow."Your next client was a middle-aged woman named Carol. She had a no-nonsense air about her, but you could see worry lines creasing her forehead."I'm at a crossroads in my career," she explained. "I need some direction.”The cards revealed a need for bold action and embracing change. Carol nodded thoughtfully as you explained the spread."That... actually makes a lot of sense," she admitted. "I've been playing it safe for too long."As the night progressed, you read for a diverse array of clients: a young couple seeking relationship advice, an artist looking for inspiration, a retiree wondering about a potential move. Each reading was unique, and you found yourself energized by the connections you were making.As you were about to lock the door after a long evening of tarot readings, a familiar voice called out."Leaving so soon? And here I thought you'd be eager to practice your newfound skills."You turned to see your mysterious client, impeccably dressed as always, leaning against the door frame with a sly smile."I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about us," you replied, trying to hide your surprise and the flutter in your chest.He chuckled, stepping inside. "Forget? Never. I was merely... occupied. But I find myself in need of your services tonight. How about a private reading?"You hesitated, glancing at the clock. It was well past closing time, but something in his green eyes made you reconsider."Alright," you conceded, relocking the door. "One last reading for the night."You led him to the reading nook, then settled into your chair, trying to calm your nerves as your strange customer sat across from you. The air felt charged with an energy you couldn't quite place."Shall we begin?" he asked, his green eyes twinkling with amusement.You nodded, shuffling the deck with practiced hands. "Focus on your question or concern in your mind," you instructed, though you had a feeling he didn't need the guidance.As you laid out the cards, a chill ran down your spine. The Tower, Death, the Ten of Swords - cards of upheaval, endings, and painful transformations dominated the spread. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the gravity of what the cards were revealing.You looked up, meeting his expectant gaze. For a moment, you considered sugar-coating the reading. After all, he was a valued customer, and you didn't want to frighten him away. But something in those piercing eyes made you reconsider."The cards..." you began hesitantly, "they're warning of significant disruption. There's a sense of impending chaos, perhaps even danger." You pointed to the Tower card. "This suggests a sudden, potentially destructive change."His eyebrows raised slightly, but his smirk remained. "Go on," he encouraged.You swallowed hard. "The Death card here isn't literal death, but it does indicate a major ending or transformation. And the Ten of Swords... it's often associated with a painful ending or betrayal."As you continued to explain the spread, detailing the challenges and potential hardships ahead, you watched his face carefully. To your surprise, instead of fear or concern, his smile only grew wider."Chaos and destruction, you say?" he mused, leaning back in his chair. "How utterly fascinating."You blinked, taken aback by his reaction. "You're not... worried?"He laughed, a rich sound that sent shivers down your spine. "My dear, chaos is where I thrive. But tell me," he leaned forward, his eyes boring into yours, "do you truly believe in what these cards are telling you?"You hesitated, suddenly unsure. There was something about this man that made you question everything you thought you knew. "I... I'm not certain," you admitted. "But I felt it was important to be honest about what I saw."His smile softened slightly. "Honesty. How refreshing." He stood up, straightening his suit. "Well, this has been most enlightening. I do believe I'll be seeing you again soon."As he turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd just passed some sort of test. But what the consequences would be, you couldn't begin to imagine.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The air in the bathing alcove hummed with the subtle scent of citrus and sage, a calming blend that teased your senses. A large, carved basin of pale stone dominated the space, filled with steaming water that swirled with iridescent blues and greens from dissolved bath salts.I’m going to kill that insolent prick. You stepped inside, the cool, smooth flagstones a welcome contrast to your homicidal thoughts. And the flour. Gods, the flour. A fine layer of it coated your tunic and trousers, a testament to the disastrous prank Loki had pulled on you just a few moments earlier. You hastily brushed at your clothes, still seething internally as you send a small cloud of white dust puffing into the air.Out of all the pranks he could have pulled, this was the most juvenile, halfhearted, and idiotic of them all. A bag of flour perched above a cracked doorway. It was so absurd and beneath him that you obviously hadn’t expected it, and his delight at your misfortune was driving you insane. I’m definitely going to kill him. You ran your fingers through your hair, attempting to dislodge the worst of the flour clinging stubbornly to the strands. It was a losing battle, but you managed to get some of it out before solidifying in the steamy air. With a frustrated grunt, you unfastened the worn leather straps of your tunic and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of your trousers the same way and discarding them without care. I’ll just burn these, you thought with agitation, it’ll be easier than trying to wash them. You tested the water in the basin with your toes, adjusting to the temperature until it was just right. Then, you slowly sank down into the swirling depths, the warmth enveloping you like a gentle embrace. The water rose up to your chin, and you tilted your head back to wet your hair.A sturdy, wooden bucket hung suspended above the basin, filled to the brim with clear, cool water. Tiny droplets clung to its sides, catching the light filtering in from the high, narrow window. Next to you, nestled on a smooth river stone, sat a vial of amber colored oil.Reaching for the vial, you carefully uncorked it and inhaled deeply. The scent chased away the lingering tension in your shoulders, sage and lemon filling your nose. You tipped a few drops of the oil into your palm, rubbed your hands together, and began massaging it into your tired muscles as the water gently sloshed with your movements. The warmth spread quickly, easing the aches of having to deal with that insufferable prince.Why did it have to be me? You thought, groaning at the unfortunate situation. Three months ago, you were assigned to be Loki’s personal keeper. You had been trying your damnedest to make light of the circumstances, but the Trickster god was making things difficult. You were his new play thing, and your torment was his entertainment. I swear he gets off on making me miserable. This is just fan-fucking-tastic. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back against the cool stone edge of the basin and let the tension melt away. For a few moments, you simply soaked, breathing in the calming aromas and feeling the water work its magic.You pictured his face, the way his lips form a mischievous smirk. That stupid smirk. The time he cast illusions to change the layout of the corridors, making you run into walls that weren’t there, and the time he had enchanted the ice sculptures for the winter solstice celebration to melt, then refreeze in the shaped of you, mid-sneeze. He had that stupid smirk every time he had tricked you, and you kept falling for it.But flour? It was so... simple. So elementary compared to his other pranks. A sinking feeling made your stomach drop - He wasn’t done. The flour was only the start.You groaned at the thought, sinking deeper into the water and submerging yourself completely. You had to find a way out of this hell.When you were ready, you reached for the rope that was attached to the bucket above. With a gentle tug, the bucket tipped forward, and a rush of cool water cascaded over your head and down your back. You gasped, the shock of the cold a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bath. You scrubbed your scalp, almost as if manually tearing your thoughts out to rid yourself of them. You repeated the process, reveling in the invigorating sensation.As the last of the water drained away, you felt refreshed, renewed even. The aches in your muscles were gone, replaced by a pleasant tingling. Stepping out of the basin, you grabbed a thick, linen towel and dried yourself, the oil’s scent clinging to your skin.You stepped out of the bathing alcove, the linen towel wrapped securely around you, still warm from the now-cooling flagstones. You padded softly down the hall toward the main room of the women’s servants' quarters, expecting to find it empty, as usual, at this hour. It was dinner time, and you were famished.Instead, your breath caught in your throat. Lounging on your bed, amidst the simple, hand-stitched quilt, was Loki – dark hair swept back, emerald eyes gleaming with amusement, clad in his signature dark green leather tunic and black trousers. And in his hands, your heart plummeted – your diary.He looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you're back. Enjoy your bath?” His eyes flicked down to the diary, then back to you, a silent invitation for you to panic. You could’ve sworn you watched his eyes trail up your body, and you clutched the towel tighter as your mind raced.How did he even get in here? What does he want? And, most pressingly, what has he read? "Loki," you managed, your voice a strained whisper. "What are you doing here?"He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Is it not obvious? I'm simply enjoying a bit of light reading. Although,” he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I must say, your writing is far more… colorful than the Asgardian sagas I'm accustomed to.” He gestured with the diary. “That baker you've been mooning over? Intensely relatable.”You took a step forward, torn between snatching the diary and demanding he leave. “That's private!” you said with alarm. Not good. Not good at all. “Indeed,” Loki replied, not moving. “And yet, here we are.” He closed the diary, marking the page with a slender finger. “Tell me,” he started, his voice dropping to a dangerously soft murmur, “what other secrets are you keeping?”You took another step forward, your hand outstretched. “Loki, please. Give that back.” Your voice wavered as anger rose within you, coloring your cheeks a dark red. You considered making a move to snatch the diary back, but seeing how you were literally naked under the towel, you hesitated. He noticed.Loki's smile widened as he lazily lifted the diary just out of your reach. “Now, now. I'm not finished yet.” He flipped through a few pages, eyes skimming the contents. “My, my. What interesting thoughts you have about the stable boy.”Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and frustration. “Give it back!” you yelled, lunging forward, trying to take back the diary, but Loki smoothly rolled to the other side of the bed, keeping it away from you.“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “Patience is a virtue, little servant.”“This isn't funny!” you snapped back, your voice rising. You made another grab for the diary, but Loki stood quickly, holding it high above his head. You were acutely aware of how ridiculous you must look, clutching your towel with one hand while reaching up with the other.“On the contrary,” Loki smirked, that stupid shit-eating smirk- “I find it highly amusing.”Your frustration boiled over. “Give it back!” you shouted, not caring who might hear. How far did he read? your mind reeled at the thought of him reaching one of the more recent entries. You had taken up the habit of writing down your dreams along with your daily life, and you had written a passage you would rather anyone read but him.You tried to circle around him, but he kept pivoting, always keeping the diary just out of reach. As your attempts grew more frantic, Loki's amusement seemed to increase. “Such passion,” he mused. “I wonder what other hidden depths you possess.”Your heart raced, a mix of anger and panic coursing through you. You were torn between maintaining your dignity and retrieving your diary. “Loki,” you pleaded, your voice cracking slightly, “please. Those are my private thoughts. It's not right.”He stared down at you, eyes darkening with glee and something else you couldn’t quite place. “And what entertaining thoughts they are,” he chuckled, watching you struggle with what to do next. Loki opened back up the diary, still well above his head, and started to read aloud.“’I made a fool of myself. Again.’” he began, his voice smooth and unwavering as he read, a gleam in his eye as he continued to turn and stay out of your reach, “’Practicing my curtsy for the visiting lord - utterly ridiculous, I know, but Mara dared me.’”You wanted to throw up, fresh tears pricking in your eyes as you desperately tried to snatch the journal. Why was he so fucking tall?Loki evaded your attempts easily and continued, mirth in his voice as he struggling not to laugh, “’Thomas from the bakery walked by right as I did a particularly wobbly bow. He saw everything. He smiled. I think I actually squeaked. I’m moving to the desert. Goodbye, world.’”Tears fell as you were now in full blown panic mode. He was two entries away from the worst page. You made a mental note to burn the book after you got it back. “Loki, please! Stop!”Loki laughed, keeping your diary a safe distance away from your grasp, but paused ever so slightly against your struggles. “What’s this?” he murmured, and your heart dropped. He had seen his name on the page, his eyes quickly scanning through it.Fuck my dignity, he can’t read that! You let go of the towel to grab his arm and hoist yourself up in a desperate lunge to grab the diary. Loki obviously wasn’t expecting that and wasn’t quick enough to block you. You wrenched the book from his grasp and threw it clear across the room so he couldn’t take it back, but the damage was already done. He had read the passage of your steamy dream involving him (which was completely involuntary as you were unconscious) and now here you were, literally naked and panting, clutching his arm.“Well, well,” Loki purred, his voice low and teasing. “It seemed the little mortal has quite the... vivid imagination.”“It was just a stupid dream,” you muttered, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Your face burned with embarrassment, refusing to even look in his direction as you made a move for your towel which had pooled around your feet. His hand caught your wrist, and you could feel his eyes roaming over your naked back.Loki grabbed ahold of your chin, forcing you to look at him, moving closer. Too close. “Was it?” he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Or was it a desire you'd been too afraid to admit?”You bit your lip unconsciously, your breath hitching as you stood there, trying not to cry as shame clawed its way up your throat. “You’re cruel,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “you had no right-”“Now, now, don't be shy,” he chided, his grin widening. “I had no idea you harbored such... intense feelings for me. Though I can’t say I blame you.”A wave of pure, unadulterated mortification washed over you. You wanted to cease to exist, to burrow a hole in the floor and crawl into the sweet oblivion of the earth. Every cell in your body screamed in protest, begging for the universe to rewind time, to erase this moment from existence. You could picture your obituary: “Died of Embarrassment: Had steamy diary entry read aloud by Norse God.”
To whatever gods are out there that put me in this position, you’re all assholes.
The shame was a tangible thing, a suffocating blanket that threatened to smother you completely. Tears slid silently down your face as you refused to meet his penetrating gaze. He jerked your chin again, commanding your attention. You gasped slightly at the movement.His eyes darkened, gaze predatory. You could feel the heat radiating off of you, the fingers holding your chin and wrist tightly were surprisingly cool. You felt utterly helpless, naked and afraid and... something else you would never dare to admit. It was bad enough he had read about your dream (in graphic detail).He looked into your eyes, locked onto your face, and recited your entry from memory. His voice was slow and sensual, enunciating every word. “’His cool fingers traced a path down my spine, igniting a fire I never knew existed...’” He paused, releasing your wrist and snaking his arm around you to your exposed back, gently trailing his fingertips from between your shoulder blades down to the small of your back. He watched your face intently, still holding your chin firmly, drinking in every reaction.You had never been good at hiding your thoughts on your face, and shivered at his touch. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, feeling that very real fire burn inside of you, leaving a trail of destruction along your spine. This cannot actually be happening, you thought, I drowned in the tub and this is the afterlife. He seemed satisfied, as if confirming something for himself and smirked. “’His touch was maddening, and when he went further,’” he moved his hand down over your hip and traced small circles on the back of your thigh, eliciting a small gasp from you, “’I couldn’t help but feel the need for release.’ My, how poetic...” He purred, watching you squirm under his ministrations, deeply enjoying humiliating you.“Bastard.” You hissed at him, venom in your voice but secretly your resolve was wavering. At least you were spot on in your writing.“Oh,” Loki chuckled darkly, a threatening edge to his voice, “you don’t know the half of it.” He released your chin and allowed you to take a small step back, his other hand moving to trace mindless, featherlight patterns on your hip that made your head spin. With a small flash of green light, suddenly your diary was back in his free hand. What the hell?! That’s cheating! Loki towered over you, his emerald eyes glinting with mischief as he saw your mouth open in disbelief. He held the diary high above his head, just out of your reach once again. Your heart raced, a mix of embarrassment and something else you didn't want to name as you felt his fingers trail from your hip to the small of your back. Your breath caught in your throat, gods not this again.“Let's play a little game, shall we?” he purred, his voice low and dangerous. “If you manage to get your diary back from me, I will cease all pranks, right here, right now.”You eyed him warily, knowing there had to be a catch. An offer like that was way too good to be true. “And if I can't?”His grin widened, predatory and thrilling. “Well, we can leave that as a fun surprise.”You swallowed hard, torn between the mortification of him using you like a play thing and the thrill of his proposition. Either way, you were in trouble. You needed to think this through, to find a way he would lose focus, catching him off guard. The touches on your back that were slowly trailing up your spine were making it hard to think properly. You just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his pretty face-Bingo.You had figured out the perfect way to throw him off his game, get your book back, and cease his endlessly torture once and for all. With a determined breath, you made a desperate lunge for the book, which he expected and held it even higher. Your bare breasts pressed against his body as you stood on your toes to try to reach for the book, and he very clearly enjoyed the view. You could feel his growing arousal press up against your stomach as you continued to struggle for the diary.But then you crashed your lips onto his in a hard, sloppy kiss.Loki faltered, clearly taken by surprise, and his hand tightened on your back, fingers splayed out to hold his balance. Your hand grasped the book firmly and yanked it away from him, and just as you pulled back to announce your victory, his now free hand quickly moved to the back of your neck and pulled you deeper into the kiss.Your mind fogged over as he hungrily devoured your mouth, claiming your lips like you were the only oasis in the dessert. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your face upwards for a better angle. You didn’t even hear the diary thud against the hard stone floor, only focusing on his rich taste, your knees feeling weak.It was almost desperate the way the hand on your back slid down and cupped your ass, firmly kneading your backside. You moaned lightly into the kiss, and he all but growled back, pulling you against his solid chest with a possessive eagerness that made your stomach drop in a delicious way.It was just like in your dream, but so much better. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, fingers sliding into his silky raven locks and tugging him forward, needing him closer, harder, more- In an instant, the world around you vanished. A fleeting sensation of pressure enveloped you, followed by a dizzying rush that left you gasping. Before you could process what was happening, reality snapped back into focus and you found yourself in an entirely different place, your senses reeling from the abrupt change. Confusion flooded your mind as you struggled to comprehend the sudden shift, breaking his kiss.Your heart raced as a wave of nausea washed over you, but it was quickly replaced when Loki shoved you backwards. You fell unceremoniously onto a large bed, the silky soft dark green sheets sliding delicately under your body.
Gods, I can't stand him. Look at that smug smile. Who does he think he is? He's manipulative, selfish, and completely infuriating. So why can't I look away? This is ridiculous. I hate him. I hate everything about him. And I want to fuck him so badly.
Without hesitation, he was upon you - his hands roamed over your body, cool and deliberate as his mouth moved from your lips to your neck, gingerly biting down on the smooth skin there. You shivered as he breathed in deeply, inhaling your scent as he licked his way down. His hand slid up your side to cup your breast as his tongue trailed over the other, finding your nipple and circling it, agonizingly slow, and you felt him smile in satisfaction at your gasp when his mouth closed around it. Your back arching from the feeling, small whimpers fell from your lips as heat pooled in your core.Your head fell back against the sheets as you struggled to hold in your moans, gripping the smooth fabric with all your might. You were breathless, panting beneath him. His touch was driving you mad.“Prepare to be thoroughly and deliciously devoured,” Loki growled, lowering himself onto his knees and pulling your hips forward until you were only partially on the bed, your legs dangling off the edge. With a slight gasp, you allowed him to push your knees apart, feeling him sink his teeth into the soft, delicate skin on your inner thigh.You pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Loki-”Your voice became a strangled cry as his tongue slipped between your slick folds, his gaze mischievous and intense as he looked up from between your legs. Your dream was nothing compared to the real thing, the sight of him licking and sucking at your most intimate area - you could never have imagined a sight more arousing. Your head fell back, moaning as he placed a kiss on the most sensitive part of your body, dragging his tongue along your slit, teasingly dipping it inside of you, tasting you, before moving back to circle your clit. A sudden cry escaped from your lips when he sucked viciously. You glared down at him, but he only chuckled against your wetness, his voice dark and lustful.“Don't be shy - I want to hear every sound you make for me.”Loki was skilled, there was no denying that, and you could no longer hold back the gasps and moans as he kept a merciless pace. Your body felt aflame, begging for release, yet every time the tension inside you tightened, he moved his lips away to place kisses on the inside of your thighs.He knew exactly how to make your back arch, how to make your death grip on the silky sheets even tighter. The third time Loki stopped before you reached your climax you let out an exasperated whine, forcing yourself to look down, meeting his gaze. Had he... had he not once taken his eyes off of you while pleasuring you like that?He grinned, placing another kiss on your sensitive nub, before resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh as his hand kept your leg in place. “Is anything the matter?” he asked innocently.“You know exactly what is the matter, my prince.” You hissed back, your face burning as you bit your lip, his eyes following the movement.There was no doubt he was trying to keep his smirk from growing. “Indeed, I do. But I intend to savor every moment of this. Is that not what you want?” Loki placed another kiss on the soft skin of your thigh, relishing in the little shiver your body gave in response.“What I want is for you to stop teasing me.” You growled.He chuckled darkly. “It amuses me to no end to see how easily I can fluster you,” Loki crawled up over your body, his eyes never leaving yours even when his hand moved down to push your knee to the side, pressing his clothed erection against your sex. “I could bring you to the peak of pleasure, over and over, without ever letting you fall, leaving you yearning for more.”He claimed your mouth, the flavors of his kiss blended with your own sweet essence, and he moved his legs between yours with one hand pulling your thigh up to his waist. You almost desperately tugged at his shirt, needing it off, needing his skin on yours. With the flick of his wrist, the barrier of fabric was gone and you could feel the tip of his hard member ghost over your folds, coating himself with your arousal.“Tonight, I will write a chapter in your story that you'll never be able to erase,” he murmured against your lips. Then he plunged himself inside of you.A single, drawn-out moan, a release of breath and pleasure, escaped you both as he filled you to the hilt. You could feel every inch of him within you, stretching you, throbbing against your walls, the intensity of the sensation made you feel faint.“F-fuck!” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as his hot breath rolled down your neck, groaning at your tightness. He sank his teeth into your shoulder as you whimpered beneath him, the stimulation almost too much to bear.Loki pulled out before pushing back in, rolling his hips into yours, gradually increased the speed even more until he was pounding into you, hitting your sweet spot with every violent thrust. He mapped your neck and jaw with his mouth, the anticipation building until his lips crashed against yours in a possessive, breathless kiss. The motion sent shockwaves through your body and left only pleasure that had you gasping with every breath, and you wrapped your legs around his hips to grant him better access, locking them at the ankles.You arched your back, your breasts pressing firmly against his toned chest as he fucked you into the mattress. His pace became even more forceful, brutal even as he slammed into you over and over, eyes never leaving yours. You held on to his shoulders as if it was the only thing keeping you alive, feeling his muscles move under your fingertips while he buried his entire length inside of you repeatedly, relentlessly, ruthlessly. You moaned out his name, eliciting a low growl, raw and untamed from deep within him.“I’m going to teach you the true meaning of pleasure,” Loki rasped, his voice rough with desire, his eyes burning into yours. “I will push you to your limit, bring you to the edge of ecstasy, until you're a helpless mess beneath me, consumed by need, and all you can do is cry out my name.” Each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust, penetrating deeply within you, causing you to moan so loud it was nearly embarrassing.The warmth in your core began building again, your insides coiling up and tightening with every time his cock rammed deep inside of you. He maintained a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to prolong the exquisite torment and hold you back from the release of pure bliss.“Please!” you begged, pleading with him as your nails scratched long red trails down his back, “Loki, please!” Your body ached for release, your mind drowning in the delicious torture.Loki watched your face, twisted with pure pleasure, smirking devilishly.“As you wish.”He slipped a hand between your sweaty bodies, never slowing his pace as his thumb circled tantalizingly over your clit, pressing harder and harder until it all came crashing down, a relentless tide of arousal flooding through you, your walls squeezing around him as he pushed you over the edge, moaning his name. He groaned, emptying himself inside you, riding out your orgasm and keeping your peak from slipping away until your legs stopped trembling.Your muscles finally surrendered, and you released your hold on him, all the tension leaving your body, letting yourself collapse back onto the sheets in blissful euphoria. He mirrored your movement, collapsing at your side.You lay beside Loki, both of you still catching your breath. The silk sheets clung to your damp skin as you turned to study him. In the soft glow of the antique lamp, you noticed details you'd overlooked before. A faint scar traced his collarbone, barely visible against his pale skin. Your fingers itched to trace it, to uncover its story. His hair, usually so perfectly coiffed, was delightfully mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead.“See something you like?” Loki's voice was low, tinged with a hint of challenge.You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling slightly. That is, until your gaze drifted past him to the ornate nightstand beside the bed. Its dark wood surface was cluttered with a few leather-bound books, and an antique lamp cast a warm glow over the scene. Sitting conspicuously atop the pile of books was your diary.“Why is that here?” you demanded, glaring at him in exasperation. “You promised to stop your pranks.”A mischievous grin spread across Loki's face. “Indeed, I did promise to cease my pranks. However, I never said anything about returning your journal to you.”The air between you crackled with renewed tension. You felt your pulse quicken as Loki's hand ghosted along your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake, renewed heat building in your core. How was he this insatiable? (not that you were complaining)“Want to see how thoroughly I can break you?” he purred, his breath hot against your ear, the words a velvet threat.In one fluid motion, he was above you, flipping you onto your stomach. Loki leaned in close, his body covering yours, pinning you in place with delicious weight. His fingers trailed down your sides, setting your skin ablaze with a slow, burning heat before gripping your hips with possessive intent. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, igniting a fresh wave of desire.“Tell me,” he hummed, “do you want me to stop?”Your answer was a barely audible whisper.“No.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The evening air was filled with a relaxed atmosphere as you lounged on the plush couch in the expansive living room of Avengers Tower. The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was your turn for movie night, and you had chosen to watch Disney's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," a nostalgic favorite.Beside you, Loki sprawled out, his long limbs taking up more space than you anticipated. He wore a playful smirk, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he watched the opening scenes unfold. You sang along under your breath through each of the songs, and as Esmeralda danced gracefully through the streets of Paris, Loki couldn't help but comment, "Is she really that flexible? I mean, come on, who dances like that in public?"You shot him a quick glare, playfully shushing him. "Shh! Just watch!"He feigned innocence, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. But I must say, her choice of attire is rather... revealing for a woman of the church."You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. As Quasimodo's heartbreaking song Heaven's Light began to play, you leaned back into the cushions, trying to immerse yourself in the emotional weight of the story. You were utterly absorbed in the story. Loki, however, was not. He lounged beside you, his long legs stretched out and his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, looking as though he were enduring some great trial.When Frollo appeared on screen (your favorite character), you couldn't contain your excitement. Murmuring the Latin under your breath, you sang along, "Confiteor Deo omnipotenti. Beatae Mariae, semper Virgini. Beato Michaeli Archangelo, sanctis spostolis omnibus sanctis..."Loki looked over at you, incredulous that you could break movie etiquette rules and he couldn't. Dramatically, you stood, mirroring Frollo's entrance into the cathedral as you sang. "Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man, and of my virtue, I am justly proud."Loki watched you, bemused by your performance. You didn't care, continuing just as dramatically, "Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd."His eyes seemed to follow your movements, a faint smirk playing on his lips, obviously thinking you were deranged. Slyly, you turned towards him, a mischievous smirk on your lips, "Then tell me, Maria, why I see him dancing there?" Loki raised an eyebrow at the lyric change, hearing your voice sensually sing the words, "Why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?""I feel him, I see him, the sun caught in his raven hair, is blazing in me out of all control," Something dark glinted in his eyes as you belted out the lyrics, moving your body suggestively as you acted out the scene for him."Like fire, Hellfire, this fire in my skin... This burning desire is turning me... to... sin." He chuckled quietly to himself as you continued your dramatic display, "It's not my fault! I'm not to blame! It is the gypsy man, the witch who sent this flame! It's not my fault, if in God's plan, He made the devil so much stronger than a man!""Protect me, Maria! Don't let this siren cast his spell, don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone! Destroy the Asgardian, and let him taste the fires of Hell! Or else let him be mine and mine alone!" You held out your hand to him dramatically, grinning at your own fake-flirting.Loki grinned, laughing wholeheartedly now. You turned to the side, now pretending to be both the guard and Frollo, swapping between lines."Mistress Frollo, the gypsy has escaped."
"What?!"
"He's nowhere in the cathedral, he's... gone."
"But how, I- Never mind. Get out, you idiot! I'll find him. I'll find him if I have to burn down all of Paris!"You turned back to face Loki, watching you deliver your silly theatrical performance, "Hellfire, dark fire, now gypsy, it's your turn. Choose me or your pyre - Be mine or you will burn!""God have mercy on him... God have mercy on me... But he will be mine or he... will... burn!" You held the note, singing as the tv behind you crescendoed and faded, and you flopped back onto the couch with a hearty laugh.Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well that was definitely something."You couldn’t help but laugh softly under your breath as you turned back to the screen. “Now be quiet or I’ll make you sit through Frozen next.”That earned a dramatic groan from Loki as he slouched even further into the couch. “Kind of hypocritical of you but fine,” he muttered. “But only because I find your devotion to this absurd film mildly entertaining.”Satisfied, you returned your focus to the movie, though you could still feel Loki’s amused gaze on you throughout the rest of the movie.