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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Be With You Everywhere

A short drabble for Little Lies (and a set up for Thor's spin off)

You check your phone for the nth time. You're getting tired of waiting. In fact, you're ready to leave.

You feel like a sore thumb sticking out. Sat on the high stool with your empty martini glass, a satin top and the tight pencil skirt making you chafe for a pair of leggings and loose tee. The gin would go better with some Netflix and pillows.

You sigh and rub your cheek. You're used to the inconvenience of knowing Loki but it doesn't mean you enjoy it. You hook your heel on the crossbar and rest your chin in your hand. Another martini would ease your impatience.

You signal to the bartender, all the way at the other end. You lean forward impatiently, running your fingers up the stem of your glass.

"Martini?" A man drawls from beside you, "sounds good."

Before you can react, the man claims the stool next to you. As the bartender finally heads down in your direction, the stranger raises two fingers, "dos for us, sir."

The bartender takes away your empty glass as you thumb the ring on your finger, making a show of the gesture, "I'm waiting for someone."

"No need, he's late," he insists, "and what kind of bozo would leave a woman like you waiting?"

"My husband," you retort, "I appreciate the attention but I'm flattered. And married."

"Happily?" He muses, "I've watched you half the night, staring at your phone and scowling. A man worthy of you wouldn't leave you all alone for so long."

"Does that line usually work?"

"I to be fair, I don't usually approach married women," he smiles at the bartender as he brings your drinks. He asks him to put the order on his tab, "they usually approach me."

"Sure," you scoff and stir the toothpick in the gin, "thank you for the drink but divorces are costly."

"I can put that on my tab as well," he leans an arm on the leather trim of the bar as he angles to face you, "James. Conrad."

You shake your head and smile. You give your name and slide the olives off the toothpick into the gin, "my husband is known to get jealous. And slightly violent."

"Sounds kinky," he intones, "I've been known for a similar habit, I confess."

You look at him. He has brilliant blue eyes and a charming crooked smile. He almost reminds you of Loki, but not so uptight. A tee shirt under his slim blazer, and a pair of dark jeans. His posture suggests military, likely ex.

"It's his least endearing quality," you rebuff, "I'm not much for angry men and their egos."

"Angry? I find it fun," he raises his glass and sips.

The tap of soles crosses the floor and you turn in time to greet Loki as he strides up, phone in hand as he fixes his tie, "darling, sorry I'm... late. Pardon, I was unaware we were having company. A friend?"

"Not your friend," James chortles, "but I admit, the lady is rather friendly."

"The lady. My wife," Loki snarls as he tweaks a brow, "darling, is this man bothering you?"

"I'm keeping her company as her husband remains errant. How sad," James takes a healthy gulp of gin, "now, we've just got our drinks and I never leave one unfinished--"

"Would the both of you let me get a word in?" You sneer, "I was just informing this kind stranger that I am indeed married."

"Yes, very married," Loki intones.

"Ahem," you give him a pointed look, "and he was kind enough to congratulate me on our recent nuptials with a martini."

"Perhaps if you'd been on time, I'd have got a full round," James smirks, "I do wonder how long a marriage can last with such discord."

"Eh," Loki narrows his eyes as he steps closer, hooking his arm around you, "I have a word of advice, yes? There are plenty of single women to be found in this sort of place, not hard to spot. I can point you towards a few."

"None half so gorgeous," James winks at you, "but glad to know you've such a keen eye. Always on the lookout, yes?"

"Please," you roll your eyes, "James," you stand and take your martini, "thank you for the drink but I am much too tired to argue all night. You have a lovely evening," you grab your purse and hit Loki's stomach with it, "let's find a table, Lo."

You strut past him. He doesn't budge at first but before you can turn to chide him, he relents. You choose the table against the wall and sit, placing your purse at the side as you nurse your drink. He sighs as he lowers himself across from you, his eyes still on the bar.

"I rush across the city and find you flirting with other men," he scoffs.

"Lo, you kept me waiting nearly an hour and are whining like a baby," you reproach, "for the time being, I'm going home with my husband. Don't make me change my mind."

You peek over at James and raise your glass in a toast as you grin. Loki snarls and leans over the table, "don't, darling. Traffic was horrible, I swear--" He hisses and sits back, smoothing his shirt, "besides I didn't even get to break the good news."

"Oh, amazing news, I'm sure," you sling one legs over the other, playing deliberately with the lacy hem of your shirt. He's distracted for a moment before he can't right himself.

"It is," he chimes, his tone striking you as unusually chipper, "my brother is to be married."

You nearly choke and put down your glass heavily, "Thor? Really? Your mother must be thrilled."

"Mmm," he leans back as he considers you. The toe of his leather shoe meets your calf and runs up as he pokes out the tip of his tongue, "and you. You must be elated to accompany me back to Asgard once more. Countess."

"Ugh, don't call me that," you grimace, "yes, lovely memories call us back, do they?"

"Darling," he purrs as he drags his hand down his lapel, "you've never seen Asgard in the spring..."

"I've never wanted to."

"Well, you're mine now, you have to," he says and aims a look toward James. You don't bother glancing over, you know he's still there.

"I am, so quit being such a child," you warn as you finish your martini, "I could use another drink."

He grins and his eyes wander down to your empty glass, "you could," he hums lowly.

"Mmm," you nod and brush his ankle with your toes, "you know you're a lot easier to bear with some alcohol around."

"Yes, dear," he plucks up your glass, "but you know, so are you."

#dark loki #loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #little lies #drabble #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Little Lies 1

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss throws your comfortably dull life into chaos. (Boss AU)

Characters: Loki

Note: Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead an post this first part. Thoughts very much welcomed.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like the Gingerbread Man loves gumdrop buttons. Take care. 💖

In all your life, you’ve been barely seen and rarely heard. Those qualities praised as admirable or even absolutely innate for success elude you. You’re not especially interesting, nor extraordinarily intriguing. You are not too much of anything, just there.

That’s all you need to be in your job. There. Though one could even forget your presence, it is constant and consistent. A perfect complement to your errant and often erratic boss.

One moment, Mr. Laufeyson could be charming though never close to cheerful, then he was mercurial and malicious. You weather the storm as you have any.

You’re used to things happening around you and not to you. He never quite seems to direct anything more than his demands at you and those you can handle. His emotions are reserved for others, those more overt, more notable. You get him what he wants and so his chagrin can never be your fault.

You suspect at times that he prizes your menial existence. He doesn’t need to hear or see you, he only knows that you do your job.

He rarely looks up when you enter his office, not for his morning coffee or the latest report still warm from the printer, or those sparse times you do speak. And in those moments you receive only a nod, or at times, another demand.

That morning, you arrive with the usual. His flat white and your herbal hibiscus tea. You set your small cup on your desk, tucked away, out of the way where you belong. His office door is open and you flit in to put his coffee beside his keyboard.

You tidy up the folder left open and roll his chair under. You go back to the reception area, small as the space is hardly busy. Mr. Laufeyson often goes off to meet his clients on location.

As you boot up your PC, the phone rings. You answer reflexively in the voice reserved only for calls.

“Serpent Realty, how may I direct your call?” your hand hovers over the lid of your tea.

“Great, you’re in, I’m at a model home and I need some flowers to put it out for the showing this afternoon.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you answer, “done.”

“Better be.”

He hangs up, the conversation as long as any. Never any question, not even about the impromptu showing not keyed in the schedule. He was slated to be in office otherwise you wouldn’t have wasted the time at the coffee shop.

You go back to his office and take the flat white. It’ll be cold by the time you get to him, you’ll dump it and get a fresh one on the way. You go back and take your tea, your flats slapping on the floor as you angle through the door. You balance the cups and lock up, setting off to pick out a bouquet from the florists.

💚

You take the bundles of long-stemmed tulips from the passenger seat, leaning them on your hip as you reach for the flat white in your cup holder. Your car keys imprint your hand as you crush them against the hot container and close the door with your knee.

You awkwardly head towards the house, careful not to trip on the mosaic of the walkway. You key in the door code with your knuckle, careful not to spill and push down the handle, leaning into it and sidling through.

You pass the wide staircase and come into the large airy space that looks out onto the sparkling pool and green lawn. You put down the flat cardboard box with bunches of pale pink, yellow, and white.

"Call catering," Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he enters from the kitchen, "we'll need a proper spread by noon."

"Yes, sir," you near him and offer his cup.

He takes it without gratuity and your keys slip with his curt swipe. You bend to retrieve them as he's already turning away. You take out your phone and grab the empty vase from the triangle table in the corner. You wait for the line to dial as you pick out stems for the first bouquet.

"Ivory Catering and Cookery," Maria's voice greets you as usual.

"Hiya, it's Serpent Realty. I know it's last minute but we're having a showing in Hawkshaven, we would like our usual set up. Preferably by eleven?"

"I'm certain we can make that happen for our most loyal clients," Maria answers, "do we have approximate numbers."

"Nothing more than average, finger foods for wanderers and such," you turn the vase and check the arrangement. It's presentable.

"We'll charge the account and notify you when delivery is on its way," she chimes, "thanks again for going Ivory."

You hang up and focus on the flowers, searching out several more vases and filling them. Mr. Laufeyson is his usual shadow, pacing the polished floor and wandering out into the yard. The man could be right beside you yet a thousand miles away.

You don't mind him. Your former bosses were overly chipper, in your face, and constantly looking over your shoulder. His aloofness shows his trust in you. It's comforting even as you never consider a job a social encounter and he doesn't treat it as such.

"Did you order sugar in this? It's rather sweet," he enters again and places the cup by the empty box of loose leaves.

"No," you answer, "only your regular order."

"Dump it," he leaves it there and backs away, "showing will run till 3."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson."

You chance a peek at him. He arches a brow but his gaze doesn't linger. It's the closest you get to approval.

"Park your car off property as well," he adds.

You take the cardboard tray and cup and disappear to do your usual walk of the house. Everything has to be to his standard and those you know inside and out. If you know little otherwise of the man, you are all too familiar with his eye for detail.

💚

With the food set out, the flowers arranged, and some last minute dusting and tidying, you retreat to your car. You drive it down to the street and take a spot behind a luxury sedan you could never aspire too. It's a waste of time and gas to go back to the office only to return again at three.

You take out your tablet, windows down as you fold out the thin keyboard case. Cars pass as people arrive for the showing. It seems to be going well but you wonder at the spontaneity. Laufeyson is a creature of planning, rarely acting on a whim.

The sun passes it peak and its ascension eases the heat that smothers the small compartment of your car. It's not an unusual day of work, often you find yourself hanging around to clean up after your boss.

Cars come and go and at quarter to three, you fold away your tablet and drain the last of your water. You'll wait until after three to head up but first a break, rarely taken or enjoyed. You chew on granola as tinted windows refract past yours.

Twenty after and you leave your car on the street, walking up instead as the sun peeks around the rustling shadows of trees. At least it's warm and dry, a good day.

There's only Loki's porsche and another white car left behind. You punch in the code and let yourself in. You'll have to wait until the last buyer is gone to start cleaning up but it likely wouldn't be long.

You stop short as you hear a noise from the east wing. Through the archway, another moan floats on the air and you see Laufeyson's pale hand gripping the back of the sofa, his dark head bent beside that of a platinum blond, his face buried in her shoulder. You blanch and spin back, mortified. Oops.

"Shit," Loki hisses, too late to run.

He clears his throat and you hear the low gasp of the woman. He whispers and a heel clicks on the floor.

"Where are you going?" Laufeyson asks tersely, "there is much to be cleaned up."

"Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I was… I didn't…" you slowly turn back as the woman fixes her peridot satin dress.

"Irena," he ignores you as he turns to the woman, "I'll be in touch."

She gives you a sharp look before smiling at him, "of course."

She kisses his cheek and struts around the sofa. You step aside and watch her go.

"Well?" Loki claps his hands as the door snaps shut.

"Uh, yes," you flinch and shuffle back.

You go to march away as he turns his back to you. You glance over as his finger bends and you watch him fish black lace off the sofa. He smirks and tucks it in his pocket. You quickly scurry off before he notices your observation.

You pack up the leftovers onto one tray, focusing on your work as the tension nips at you.

Laufeyson's propensity for women isn't unknown to you but never has it been so plain. You manage his date book, the names often changing from week to week, but never think too much of it. Why wouldn't he be the type? Rich and objectively handsome.

He enters and picks at the tray of bruschetta on barley brushes with olive oil. He eats without speaking as you work around him. You'll drop what's left at the shelter as usual.

There's another showing in two days, you'll refresh the water in the vases and make certain to do so again on the day of. Your thoughts rush ahead of you as you try not to think of your unwitting interruption.

"When you finish here, I have a suit at the cleaners," he intones as he wipes his fingers on a black serviette.

"Sir."

He narrows his eyes and his brows shoot up in surprise. He slides his phone from his jacket pocket and sighs at the screen. He doesn't excuse himself as he strides out of the room.

You continue to stack the empty trays, his rich tone seeping in and rising so his words are more discernible.

"I am not having this conversation again, I told you I would– no, no, I have been busy– well I have my work and–" another sigh and he voice lowers again.

As you go around with a pitcher to top up the vases, he finds you in the dining room.

"I need a flight arranged, the details are in your inbox, I expect a confirmed itinerary tomorrow."

"Sir."

His lips thin as he stares at you, pensive yet unfocused. He's not seeing you.

"And you should arrange to accompany me. I will require assistance. Use the company card."

"Yes. Mr. Laufeyson."

He blinks and his gaze come back to the world. This time, he truly is looking at you. He tilts his head.

"Very well."

He waves you off with his fingers and slithers away.

Business trips aren't unexpected, though you've often remained behind to manage the office and even his house. Make sure his maid checks in and all that. The prospect is exciting if not intimidating, but when is work ever easy.

💚

You bring Laufeyson his suit that night. You have his gate code and a key to his house. You let yourself in, he's expecting you. Along with the suit bag slung over your shoulder, you also have a paper bag of groceries to replenish his fridge. A task not out of the question for your longer days.

You hang the suit on the hook where you usually do. He'll grab it later. You go to the kitchen and set the bag on the counter with the keys.

The house is quiet, as it often is. Laufeyson has a dinner and should still be at the restaurant. You open the fridge and begin to unpack, tossing an expired container of Greek yogurt from the shelf. You'll take the trash on the way out, even if that's the maid's work.

You finish and crumple the bag, shoving it into the bin and tying up the liner. You pull it out and check the time. You'll have a late dinner at home. Doesn't take long to shove a tray in the microwave.

As you take your keys, you cry out at the silhouette watching from the doorway. Your boss leans on the frame as he watches you. His hair is slightly askew as his shirt is unbuttoned to his chest and hangs over his trousers.

"Always so dependable," his compliment sounds like a taunt.

"Sir," you grip the liner as you face him.

"Quiet, too."

You don't know what to say. You just round your eyes.

"Lokiii," a squealy voice comes from behind him.

Irena the tall blond appears behind him and wraps her arms around his back. She kisses his neck as his jaw clenches. Her eyes flick up as she senses the tension and her lashes bat.

"Oh, I thought you were getting wine, I didn't think the mouse was here," she giggles.

He pats her arm gently as he watches you. As if he expects a reaction. It's awkward and you want to squirm but you don't.

"When you're done with the rubbish, you might leave a bottle of sauvignon outside the bedroom."

You swallow and nod, "sir."

He smirks and turns back to his guest, "darling."

He taps her rear as she turns to guide him away and you shake your head. You wait until their voices fade and lug the garbage outside to the covered bins. You drop it in and return to the house.

As demanding as he can be, Laufeyson rarely treats you in a demeaning manner. Thus the task is somewhat unnerving. It's the first time you've felt like 'the help'.

You go to the rack mounted on the wall and check the labels. You find the aforementioned sauvignon and slide it out.

You tread quietly upstairs. You've never come up there but you can guess where the master lays. The noises certainly give it away.

You near the door at the end, deep growls and plucky giggles rising from the other side. A shrill cry of 'Loki' into another high-pitched laugh.

You plunk the bottle on the corner table beside the door. Humiliated, you retreat with soft steps in your usual habit of invisibility.

You don't believe he's unaware. He knows what he's doing. He's punishing you for some slight, embarrassing you.

But why? You only ever do what he tells you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #au #boss au #thor #avengers #little lies

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