Loki X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

(MATURE VERSION) Secret Almost Lovers ((Final) Part 6)

No one answered so Y/N pushed the door open.

A narrow beam of light cut the hallway in half, the glow coming from the basic little bulb on Loki's bedside table. Tony really hadn't tried very hard with what was to be Loki's 'home' for the foreseeable future, had he? ---If he'd even had any say in its decor at all. He'd probably just sent some employees he didn't know the names of down to Ikea with the instruction to purchase only the bare essentials.

How Loki would choose to decorate, had he been given the chance?

Said god was, as predicted, stretched out on his bed, a book held open before him with one large, slender hand. He didn't look up, his eyes just continued to slide back and forth across the page. Y/N could tell he wasn't really reading, though. His gaze had faltered as she took a few more steps into the room, his hazy daydream-riddled look falling away like a badly-fitting mask.

He's paying attention but trying to look like he isn't.

Y/N put her hands squarely on her hips. "What's gotten you so sulky?" She teased, hoping it would make him look up or move or something.

Scoop her up in his long, strong arms, like he usually does.

Catch her bottom lip for a kiss that makes her knees as weak as wet spaghetti, like he usually does.

Give her his full attention, like he usually does.

"Nothing." That's the least convincing lie he's ever told. Frankly, its quality was embarrassing, for The God Of Mischief.

"Well, something's wrong, obviously." Y/N came closer to the bed, stopping when her knees bumped into the mattress. She didn't have the nerve to climb onto it with him, although she wants to. She really wants to.

Once, she came to tidy his room before he had gotten up, and the sight of him messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, surrounded by rumpled duvet, had been so endearing it had taken all her strength not to climb under the covers with him. To cuddle or ride him, she didn't really care. Both, not in that particular order. Loki must have known this, or had similar fantasies about sliding his arms around Y/N's middle and enveloping her in the bedsheets because every day after that he'd been up and dressed by the time Y/N knocked at the apartment door.

Loki's bed had always remained sort of unspokenly off-limits. Y/N is allowed on it, she's just avoided it. Being anywhere near that mattress was too tempting. Kisses were always stopped, desires reeled in before they had ever gotten far enough to start a disorganised stagger to the bedroom. Y/N had rarely been in Loki's bedroom at all, to be honest. Her visits were all strictly professional; to sort his clothes into draws, remove his sheets for washing, etcetera.

'That's not my job anymore,' Y/N realised with a dulled sort of surprise. She'll never be doing that again---washing, tidying, cleaning this apartment---Y/N knew Loki would somehow make sure of that. Maybe a new cleaner would be hired. Or they'd do the housework together---as he'd sometimes begged her to let him do; spreading sheets between themselves and coming together to fold them, racing to see who could find the corners of the duvet fastest. Housework. The faintest hint of a grin ghosted over the lower half of Y/N's face at the mental image of her and Loki being all domestic.

"What if they're right?"

Y/N knew who Loki was referring to, but blinked a few times all the same, her eyelids like windscreen wipers neatly sweeping away mental images of him making breakfast in pyjamas, Googling how to fix a clogged sink, them arguing about who gets The Good Pillow. Loki's voice had caught her off guard, his lips barely moving as he spoke, the sharp angle of his nose still pointed squarely at the bottom left paragraph.