What's a God to a Barista? (Loki x Reader)

Three - Overthinking

The stormy weather had gotten worse. Thunder had accompanied you through the constant questioning and scared calls you had received throughout your day. You had made it on the news, and word of Loki's visit back to Earth spread too quickly for your liking.

From what you had heard, after Loki had attacked New York, he was taken to an ultra-protected cell on Asgard that clearly wasn't ultra-protected enough. Loki had somehow slipped through his magical barriers and ended up in your town, and your cafe. That was all the context you got, and that wasn't enough.

But, Loki had been apprehended. And Thor was apparently on his way to make sure Loki didn't slip through the grasp of Asgard again. So everything was under control.

Right?

It certainly didn't feel like it.

You rolled over in bed, facing the window of your apartment. Your roommate was out for the week. You couldn't have pets in the building. You hadn't talked to your family in days. Needless to say, the feeling of loneliness began to sink in as you stared out the foggy glass.

Normally, you would have been fine with being alone. Most of the time, you preferred it. But, between the attack and the effects it had on your day, you weren't exactly yourself that evening. The rain came in little waves, throwing droplets against your window and then going silent only to start it's pattering again a minute later. At some points, it got louder, almost completely blocking out every other noise in your (already painfully quiet) apartment.

There was one more reason you would have preferred to not be alone that particular night. Everything you had seen that day was still etched into your brain with perfect detail, burning into the back of your eyelids. You tossed over a few times, as if it was going to help you shake the images away. You were, in fact, trying to get rid of one specific image.

When you had asked the guards to help you out, you hadn't expected them to be so forceful. Scratch that, you hadn't expected Loki, who had once ridden into New York, to be so easily taken down. Letting you, of all people, capture him was an entirely different story. At least, you assumed that he had "let" you take him down. If he could survive getting thrown around by the literal hulk, he could survive getting tugged on by you; he also shouldn't have given into the police so easily. The image of them grabbing him up by the hair throwing him under every chain imaginable was now locked in your memory. Maybe he was a murderous alien god, but yeesh, that was disturbing.

What made it worse was the way he had looked at you as you threatened to stomp the life out of him. It sounded harsh, and you knew it, but with the adrenaline rush you had gotten, that was all that was going through your head at the time. Right up until his sea-green eyes locked with yours. Maybe it was the way his eyebrows furrowed. Or the way he clenched his blood-stained jaw. Something about him looked... off.

Scared. He looked scared. Facing the window once more, you finally figured it out. He was genuinely concerned about having a mortal overtake him. But you knew there was nothing particularly different about you that would have made him so nervous. So you had one more question for the day.

What was wrong with the space god? What the hell was making him so scared?

The thunder had returned, and it was now directly over your apartment. It didn't help that you lived so high up - it only made the raging booms seem louder. You contemplated if you had the answer right there; was he scared of his brother? It made sense. Thor had managed to defeat him before, so, why shouldn't he do it again? But that thought seemed a little too tame. You squeezed your eyes shut, groaning in annoyance. Your brain desperately needed to work, and you had nothing. You had almost given up on the whole thing and succumbed to sleep.

Until there was a bang from your living room.

You barely heard it. Between the walls and the raging storm outside, it was muffled, but still loud enough to make you jump. Slowly, you slid out of bed and made your way across your bedroom floor. You attempted to keep the noise as low as possible, but ultimately decided it was useless with the storm outside anyway.

When you finally reached the door, you let your hand rest on the handle for a second, questioning what to do next. You hadn't exactly planned out what you were going to do. You didn't even know what had caused all the ruckus. Maybe one of the windows popped? Nah, you thought, the storm would be even louder by now. Ugh, think, y/n, think!

Now or never, you decided. You were done with the overthinking. At that point you were already running on impulse. What was one more bad decision?

You realized the consequences of that thought as soon as you opened the door, only to be greeted with a flash of emerald green in the darkness.