Cleave | Loki x Reader

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Before I could fire back, I found myself unceremoniously swept off my feet. Almost tumbling to the floor with her on top, I managed to catch myself, and her too, for that matter.
So there we stood in my deserted hallway, locked in an embrace amidst the watchful portraits of my ancestors.

To my surprise, and hugging me even tighter, she exclaimed, 'Happy name day, Mischief!'

And just like that, the one woman who had succeeded at it before had once again rendered me utterly speechless.

'Name day? Not once have we celebrated my name day before,' I remarked, gently pushing her back by the shoulders so I could meet her eyes. They were shining.

'That is a shame in itself, indeed. But Loki! It's your 9th century!'

'And that's special becauuuse...?'

And although her arms were no longer caging my neck, I felt unwilling to let her retrieve all of herself from me. And so I held onto her waist.

'Becauuuse, dummy, in human terms, you're now officially regarded a man.'

'Ah, so on Midgard I must have been a horse up until now. Got it, thank you.'

I let her have the light slap to my cheek my snide tease had resulted in. I rather enjoyed the sting.

'No, you oaf,' she chided. 'In many a Midgardian culture turning eighteen marks the transition from boyhood to manhood. It's a significant milestone!'

'And so you've decided to celebrate me?' I asked, undecided how to feel about that. 'And you've decided nine hundred makes me eighteen again.'

'Obviously!' she beamed, her smile as radiant as ever, adamant to ignore my latest tease.

As endearingly simple as her answer was, still it stirred quite an extreme reaction within me.
Had she done this for Thor too? Not that I know of.

'But by the Norns, we need to be off! Else, the plan I so - I dare say - brilliantly concocted for your first present might just never come to fruition!'

'What present?' I inquired, yet again as perplexed as I was endeared by her wit.

'Your cake,' she revealed, as though nothing could have ever been more obvious.

'A cake? You baked me a cake?'

'No. My plan does not go as far as offing you.' She threw me a wink and I felt my veins buzz with that familiar spark of electricity.

'We will have Madame Agnetha bake one for Odin's second born,' she said, matter-of-factly.

'How in Valhalla's Halls are we to manage that in the middle of the night? Besides, she despises me! I've pilfered far too many grapes and pastries from the kitchens in my nine hundred years of life for that,' I pointed out, stoic skepticism saturating my words.

'As I just explained: She will bake one for Odin's second born. All it takes is for Odin to assign her with the task.'

There lay a mysterious glimmer in her bright, shining eyes, and before the 'how' could even leave my lips, it had dawned on me just how.

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As we waited in the corridors leading to the kitchens, Y/n put a finger to her lips. I hadn't uttered a single word, but never mind, I complied.

'Madame Agnetha takes up her work at the hour of the wolf. She'll be here any second now,' she whispered. With her focus on the hall around the corner, her eyes met mine not once.