You were walking down the streets of New York, finding the nearest coffee shop to your apartment. It was a busy morning and you just woke up, you forgot to buy stuff at the grocery yesterday, so going to a coffee shop was your only chance to have a breakfast this morning.
Entering inside, the warm smell of coffee instantly enters your nostrils, filling it with such good aroma.
A man dressed in a black suit— all black, ties, shoes, coat, shirt, socks— caught your eye.
He looked like he was going to a funeral.
His eyes were blue, and his raven hair was long, hanging freely as it waves when he walks.
You snorted out a laugh, making fun of the ‘funeral boy’ you've just seen inside the shop, as he glared at everyone.
It was your turn to order now, heart racing as you don't actuzally know what to order. There are a lot of choices but you can't still seem to pick anything. At a blast of a shooting star, and a lightbulb in your head flashed immediately, you ended up with a grande caramel macchiato frappe, two orders of cheesecakes, one was oreo and the other one was plain simple, a croissant and a muffin.
In the midst of drinking your beverage and taking a bite on your wonderful croissant, the guy who you're making fun of earlier, sat in front of you with a devious smirk on his face.
“You, oh Mortal. I saw you earlier, looking and laughng at me. What's the matter, may I question you?" He questioned seriously, lips pressed and his brows furrowed at you.
You can't take anything seriously, instead of putting on a straight face, you laughed at him.
“Funeral boy.” You laughed.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked, brows still furrowing as he clenched his jaw, along with his fist.
“You looked like you're going to a funeral. Why are you dressed like that? Or maybe you're heartbroken and someone dumped you.” You snorted as he pointed his long, slender, index finger at you.
“I am a god, you dull creature. You are not worthy to make fun of a highly god like me.” He sneered at you, making you burst in laughter as his temper had risen up.
“What's your name, oh God of Black Clothes and Accent?” You imitated his accent as he gritted his teeth.
“I am Prince Loki of Asgard, the God of Mischief, the rightful heir of the throne.” He spoke highly of himself, feeling righteous as he looked at you with such might and power.
“Prince Loathy of Iceberg? What are you, a fucking bear?” You laughed at him again, not understanding his name because of his accent and you seemed to enjoy mocking him.
“One last time, Mortal. My name is Prince Loki of Asgard, the God of Mischief, the rightful heir of the throne. You should bow to your God.” He repeated as you tried to understand his name, again.
“Oh, okay. I now understand your name, the so-called God and the rightful heir of Assbarg.” You rolled your eyes at him, taking a bite of your croissant.
"Well then, Mortal. Say my name, obey my order.” He smirked at you.
He was confident that you're going to repeat what he said right, but instead, this happened.
“You're Prince Logie of Asstard, the God of Mischief, the rightful heir of the throne. It's spelled L - O - G - I - E, right? Your name?” You said, still confused as he pressed his lips together and pointed his finger at you.
“It's Loki. Loki is spelled as L - O - K - I, darling. Do you want me to repeat it like I'm instructing a toddler, you Mortal?” He corrected you, eyes squinting as he took your croissant off your hand.
“Hey, give me back my croissant, Loki!” You tried to reach the croissant on his hand as he said, “Nah-ah-ah.” while waving his fingers up in the air.
“Well if you're a God then prove it.” You challenged him, as his frown turned into a smile.
He held your hand, and you two both disappeared into thin air. He teleported the both of you into your apartment.
Still amazed at what he did, you looked at him with such gleam in your eyes and punched his shoulder.
“Fuck. That was awesome.” You breathlessly stated as he raised his brows at you, smiling.
“But it still doesn't prove that you're a God.” You pointed at his face as he frowned and crossed his arms.
“You're really getting on my nerves. What do you want me to do?” He asked, rolling his eyes at you, annoyed as fuck.
“If you're a God, take me to the place you're talking about. What was it again? Ashtray? Astgart? Stuttgard?” You couldn't recall the name of the place, it was kinda hard for you since you were making fun of everything.
“Oh, Mortal. Why did I even talked to this mindless fool?” He sighed and muttered to himself, fixing his greasy hair.
He took your hand and teleported to that goddamned place.