Loki X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

Secret (Almost) Lovers (Part One)

"Sorry, I'm later than usual." Y/N nudged the door closed with a well-practised elbow, her hands being busy supporting the weight of several carrier bags. "I had a meeting."

Loki stood from the chair he'd been reading in with a smooth unfurling of limbs. His face had lightened with a grin upon the sound of Y/N's footfalls outside his lodging's door but fell into a moody scowl at her explanation of why she'd arrived over an hour past her usual visiting time. "One of those 'So-What's-The-Prisoner-Been-Up-To-Recently?' meetings? Did you tell them I've been a good boy? That I eat all my vegetables and I always remember to brush my teeth?"

Y/N started unloading the groceries she'd brought, handing them to Loki so he could put them in their correct places. That was her job, technically. She'd been hired as a housekeeper, of sorts---to change his bedsheets, buy his food, do his hoovering, however, he seems to prefer to do all that himself. Maybe because he knows her real purpose is to keep an eye on him; shop for him so he doesn't buy anything he shouldn't (weapons, ingredients to make a bomb); clean for him so he doesn't stash things he shouldn't (those weapons or ingredients to make a bomb), etcetera. Maybe he just prefers to be in control of whatever small parts of his life he can grab. He is, after all, being held here against his will. Choosing what shelf he stores his Oreos on is probably one of the few reservoirs of pride left for him.

Electing to ignore his (admittedly justified) contempt: "They don't ask about that sort of stuff." Her cheeks coloured slightly as she admitted, quietly: "Well, Thor does. But the main point of those meetings is to make sure you're, you know...happy"

Loki put the last of the shopping in the fridge, glad it was out of the way because now he could take its place in Y/N's arms. His lips tugged into his trademark smirk, all irritation washed away with Y/N's touch like sandy footprints under a wave. "And what did you tell them?"

Y/N took his hips as soon as he'd come close enough to do so, hooking her fingers with the belt loops of his black jeans. It had taken a lot of persuasion to get Loki, Prince Of Asgard, out of the blood-stained armour he'd arrived in and into casual wear but, man, it had been worth it. Not only had he grown to love them, he also looked staggeringly, breathtakingly gorgeous.

Y/N remembered the day she brought Loki a pair of Levi's and he had taken them to his room to try on, holding them at arm's length like they might infect him with some kind of disease. He'd emerged moments later, frowning like a petulant child, but also looking like a sinfully attractive man. Y/N had only been working at Stark Tower for a day---her first assignment actually being to fetch the god some decent clothes to change into---and she was already regretting sending in her resume. How was she supposed to remain professional when the man she was charged to wait on was possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen? Surely every day would be a struggle.

Luckily, she hadn't needed to stay professional for long; a friendship had quickly blossomed between the two, and now here they were; embracing in Loki's little kitchenette, the smile returning to Loki's lips as he kissed the top of Y/N's head fondly.

"I told them you're content."

Encompassing her body in his long, strong arms, and saying wearily: "Did you tell them why I'm content?"

"No. Should I have done?"

Y/N had been doing that every now and again, recently; bringing up the idea of making their relationship public. Not pushing him to, not at all, just gently nudging, because it was getting harder and harder for her to resist him. And she had to resist him. She has to check out of work at seven at the latest, then back in again at ten the next morning. If she stayed the night at Stark Tower, people would know. And every time they got close to...doing anything during her shift, Loki would stop all of a sudden and backtrack so fast it made Y/N wonder if he'd even been touching her at all, or if she'd dreamed it.