Debugging Mischeif (lokixfemale!reader)

Chapter 9

(y/n) nearly choked on her own saliva. She could feel a hot, tell-tale flush creeping up her neck. "What? No! Don't be ridiculous. It's not like that at all." Her voice had jumped an octave. Panicked, she glanced toward the counter to see if Loki had noticed their conversation. Thankfully, Loki simply caught her eye and tilted her head in a silent question, a warm, unknowing smile gracing her lips. (y/n) managed a weak, frantic wave in return before snapping her attention back to her smirking best friend.

"Oh, it's not?" (y/bff/n) pressed, her grin widening. "So you don't get all quiet and focused whenever she's explaining something? You don't light up like a pinball machine when she praises your work? And you definitely didn't just spend the last five minutes staring at her with a soppy grin instead of, I don't know, actually playing your now-perfectly-functional game?"

(y/n) opened her mouth to deliver another firm denial, but the words died in her throat. She replayed the last few weeks in her head. The easy camaraderie that had settled over their coding sessions. The way she found herself looking forward to the moment Loki would finish her shift and slide into the chair opposite her. The genuine, heart-thumping thrill she felt when she managed to impress her with a clever bit of logic. The way she'd started noticing the specific shade of green in Loki's eyes, or the exact way she laughed—a low, melodic sound that felt like a secret.

"We're just... a really good team," (y/n) said, her voice softer now, more uncertain. She was trying to convince herself as much as (y/bff/n). "She's brilliant. You have no idea. It's... inspiring."

"Uh-huh. 'Inspiring,'" (y/bff/n) repeated, waggling her eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Stop it," (y/n) muttered, taking a long gulp of her latte to hide her face. But the seed had been planted. It was a tiny, terrifying, exhilarating little thing, now taking root in the fertile soil of her mind and spreading tendrils of doubt and possibility through her every thought.

For the rest of the afternoon, she found her focus completely and utterly fractured. Every time the café door opened, her eyes flicked towards it, her heart giving a little jolt of either anticipation or disappointment. When Loki moved behind the counter, she found herself cataloging the effortless grace of her movements—the precise tamp of the coffee grounds, the artistic swirl of milk foam, the way she listened to customers with a patient, focused intensity that made them feel like the only person in the room.

Was (y/bff/n) right? Was this... more than just professional admiration? The idea was a seismic shift in her personal geography. She'd never really considered... women. But now, faced with the walking, talking, code-debugging embodiment of one, the concept didn't feel foreign. It felt... startlingly obvious.

Later, as she packed her laptop away, her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. Loki chose that moment to approach her table, wiping those capable, elegant hands on a dark green apron. Damn it, not the hands again, (y/n) thought, her brain unhelpfully supplying an image of those same hands gently fixing her hair. The intrusive thoughts were getting louder and more specific.

"Making progress?" Loki asked, her voice that same low, melodic tone that always seemed to settle something in (y/n)'s chest, even as it set everything else aflutter.

"Yeah," (y/n) said, her smile returning, easier this time. "Thanks to you. That dragon encounter is over and now we can move to the next village. You're a lifesaver."

Loki's lips curved into a small, pleased smile. It was a look (y/n) was starting to live for, a look she'd happily debug a thousand more dragons to see. "It was a trivial error. You did the hard part—building the dragon. I merely... adjusted a wing."

You're beautiful. You're brilliant. You're the most fascinating person I've ever met.

(y/n)'s brain slammed into a wall of pure, unadulterated panic. Nope. Not finishing that thought. Abort. Abort.

"Well," she said, swinging her laptop bag over her shoulder, her cheeks burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the café's temperature. "See you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here," Loki said, her gaze holding (y/n)'s for a moment too long, a flicker of something unreadable—amusement? curiosity?—in her green eyes before she turned back to the counter.

(y/n) walked out into the cool evening air, but it did nothing to quell the fire in her veins. Her mind was racing, a frantic, looping script of questions and half-formed realizations. The question (y/bff/n) had planted was no longer a seed; it was a full-blown, screaming inquiry, echoing in the suddenly vast and confusing landscape of her own heart.

Could she be right?

She didn't have an answer. But she was truly, deeply considering the question. And the possibility itself was enough to send a jolt of something electric and entirely new straight through her heart.

WC:1501