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

Two - Mishcheif Not Managed

Mentions of guns and slight violence

As soon as he said it, all hell broke loose.

You ducked behind the counter before he spotted you, leaving just enough room for you to catch a glimpse at him. Porcelain skin, lined with jagged cuts, and a face framed with hair to match the dark roast. He was decorated in strange, outer-spacey emerald robes, in similar color to his shadowy eyes. Yep, that was definitely Loki.

The god of mischief, and the brother of the famous Thor, who had left New York in ruins just weeks before. He looked less greasy now, you noticed. Now, he just looked perfect for the role of "bloodthirsty villain." The only thing you had left to figure out was why the hell he was standing in the middle of your coffee shop.

You saw on the news that he had done something similar in Germany. However, when he did it then, it was at a black-tie gala filled with rich people. What would he want with a cafe full of broke college kids, smack dab in the-middle-of-no-where, New York? You knew it wasn't a robbery. Something told you that he was past that kind of thing. Was there something going on that you didn't know about? Some sort of resistance?

Well, clearly, that option was off the table, because everyone in the shop, staff or customer, was kneeling now. Except you. You were just sort of... awkwardly crouching on the ground behind the bar, trying not to hyperventilate. That wasn't an easy task, because your heart was practically pounding out of your chest, and your every muscle was shaking. Your eyes still peeked just above the counters, granting you enough vision to see Loki.

An indulgent smirk graced his lips, sending shockwaves of fear into the very pit of your soul. "They deem me unfit to be a king, and yet this is the effect I have?" Loki began, gravitating slowly across the shop. "You fall right into submission. You were made to be ruled."

"Oh really?" You whipped your head around, and so did everyone else, to see the woman standing over the crowd, gun in hand. Veronica, the owner of the cafe and your manager. "Not being ruled is kind of our whole thing."

Dammit, you thought, why do you have to be so American? The tinge in her voice told you that years of dealing with unhinged Karens and crazy customers had left her stone-cold in the face of an alien criminal. The gun in her hand, however, shook just a little in her grasp.

"Well, well," the god chimed condescendingly. "We have an actress here." He stepped towards the bar, footstep reverberating around the cafe. "You act unbothered. But I have a knack for seeing when people are lying." He leaned in closer, locking eyes with her. "And you, my friend, are terrified. For yourself. For everyone in this pathetic little shop." He turned his back on her to face the crowd again. "Which is exactly my point - you, Midgardians, are naive little weaklings in desperate need of ruling."

Veronica's next move was exactly what you were terrified she would do. Aiming the gun at the back of his head, she rested her finger on the trigger. Without any hesitation, the god whipped around, smacking the gun out of her hand and letting it slide across the hardwood floor. He tilted his head to the side, watching her with a sort of curious expression as she froze up, her hand still outstretched.

Then, he grabbed her wrist, and a second later he had bodyslammed her to the floor. She was out cold, draped across the floor. Screams erupted from the patrons all around you, and your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

Fortunately, the god had another challenge.

The local cops must have caught sight of the situation, because the shop was surrounded by uniformed guards holding the same weapon Veronica had.

"Stand down!" One of them called.
"Put your hands up!" Another one shouted.

Loki's eyes trailed to the ground beside him, where the gun had slid across the floor. One of the guards caught him.

"Do not attempt to pick up the weapon!" He demanded.

Loki ignored the order. "What could this little thing do?" He said with an almost mocking tone. "Nothing to me..." in a flash, he picked it up, flaunting it around in front of each of the guards. "But what about you?" At that moment, your knees didn't give out beneath you. Instead, they lifted you up.

Turns out, the gun couldn't do much damage. Because it was never fired. Instead, you had trapped the god by the shin, pulling him back and sending him face-first onto the floor. Now, you stood over him, your boot resting on his throat.

—

You quickly realized that you had no idea what you were doing.

Were you insane? You were standing on top of a god! He could easily reach up and suck the life out of you in some sort of effortless punishment. On the other hand, your foot was hovering above his neck, and if you stepped down... but you didn't want to kill a man! Not to mention, it would probably put you on extremely bad terms with Thor himself. You didn't know if you could deal with that. Still, you had evidently dealt with his bother pretty well.

Loki's nose was dripping crimson down his face, and his blood was dangerously close to getting on your boot. It made you shiver, but you didn't have time for that. Not while everyone had their eyes digging into you. You took your eyes off his face, looking up at the guards. "Erm..." you managed to squeak out, "Can you take him?"