avengers preferences ✔️

38 ━ work | loki

prompt; "Well you're a shitty person."
warning; third-person? loki's a lil shit. also, psa don't actually let a stranger crash at your house, no matter how british or good looking k
word count; 968

✧

          It was seven in the morning and the clouds were dark and gloomy. The young woman stepped into the only coffee shop that hadn't been destroyed by the alien invasion. She made her way through the crowded café and miraculously found an empty table.

          She pulled out her laptop and began working. She had to have the report done by tomorrow or she'd, as her boss claimed, be fired.

          A waitress approached the table to take her order. The young woman ordered her (favorite hot beverage) and turned back to her screen. She typed away, furrowing her brow ever so often. A few (more than a few) minutes later, she had her drink.

          She checked her watch and sighed in irritation. Only a half hour or so had passed and she was still on the second page. She considered leaving for work but decided against it and continued typing. She took a sip of her drink and allowed the lukewarm liquid and the cacophony of the café to provide inspiration for her to continue.

          After another twenty minutes had come and gone, she dragged herself out of the cozy café and into the chilly streets of New York.

          A cold breeze tugged her hat out of her hands and she sped-walked after it. It fluttered into an alleyway and she froze as she saw a figure waiting. He twirled his slender fingers and the hat followed his movements. Her eyes followed the path of the hat as it dipped and looped.

          She stood frozen in place as she saw the man controlling the hat's movements. His smile was scary, as if he knew something she didn't. She attempted to back away, but for some reason, she couldn't move.

          "Don't you want your hat?"

          He stepped out of the shadows and light splayed on his features. She could see him clearly now. She had expected to see a terrifying beast, but a handsome young man stood before her. His long dark locks were brushed back smoothly and his eyes were a piercing green. Taking a second glance, she saw underlined weariness and anguish.

          She reached out to grab her hat, but it was pulled out of the way, over her head. She tried lifting a foot and, realizing she could move it, jumped up to get the hat. Her fingertips were just out of reach. Realizing that it was hopeless to try, she sighed and turned to the man.

          "What do you want?"

          His smile widened, as if he had been waiting for her to say that, "I. . .require your assistance."

          "Why would I help you?"

          "Because I can kill you right now."

          She frowned, "Well you're a shitty person."

          He laughed, "Yes, I get that quite a lot. You're not the first person."

          "Who are you?"

          "I will tell you, but first you must agree to help me."

          "And why would I do anything for a creepy stranger? I don't even know you!"

          "You generally don't know anything about strangers until you get to know them," he retorted cryptically.

          "That—that is actually a good point. Fine, I'll do this thing for you. But that doesn't mean I trust you."

          The stranger raised his arms in defense, "Very well. I need a place to stay."

          She was stunned at how upfront he was, "I—what?"

          "I am new to this land. I have nowhere to go, therefore I require housing."

         "Yeah, I noticed you're foreign. You from England or something?"

          He gave her a sort of mysterious glance, "No. I am from. . .somewhere else."

          She saw him shiver slightly in the cold. Her heart pounded. This stranger wanted to crash at her place. Too many questions and concerns came into her mind. But something about him felt familiar. She smiled lightly at the man.

          "I have plenty of questions to ask. Instead of standing here in the cold where any weirdo could pop out, you should come to my apartment."

          He gave her a crooked smile, "I thought bringing me back to the apartment was after second base?"

          A blush crawled up her neck. She shook her head and walked off, knowing that he would follow. The wind swirled around her and pushed into her cheek.

          After a few more minutes of walking, her apartment building popped into view. Seeing that the elevator was still broken, she led the man to the stairwell. After several minutes and hiking up the stairs, they arrived at her floor. She led him to apartment 6a and pulled out her keys.

          After they were both inside, she locked the door. She stared at him intensely.

          "What's your name? Where are you from? How do you have powers? Where—"

          He interrupted, answering the questions she shot at him, "My name is Loki, I am from Asgard. And the powers come with the job title."

          "You—you're Loki? Like the bad guy? Thor's brother?"

          He sighed in irritation, "Do not compare me to him. But yes, I am the 'bad guy'."

          "So I'm housing a god? An evil god?"

          "Yes. . .?"

          "But, I can't!" She protested, but secretly she thought it was pretty cool.

          "Why not?"

         "I'm busy! I have work and—wait a minute, WORK!"

          She scrambled up from her seated position. She tugged on her shoes and ran to the door. Before she left, she pointed to Loki.

          "We will address this later. For now, there's some pizza in the fridge. Heat it in the microwave. And don't burn my kitchen!"

          The door slammed and Loki was left to figure out what the hell a microwave was.