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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged 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: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Hi.

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson leaves you to wash up the porcelain. You sigh in relief at having space to breathe. You can't decide if he's testing you. You suspect this might be him keeping an eye on you, just as he had before. Still waiting for you to mess up irrevocably.

Thursdays entail a tidy of the second floor. With the carpenter in and the unexpected distraction, your schedule is delayed. You begin your canvas of the upper floor, dragging broom and vacuum along as you go through every room.

You stop before the study and knock. There's no answer. You try again and rap on the wood. Again, nothing. You enter and find it empty.

You wipe down the surfaces, dusting and shaking out the curtains before you run over the carpet and drapes with the vacuum hose. You proceed into the library but there isn't much to do there. You stop as you find your bag waiting in the chair behind the writing desk. You can't recall bringing it up but you must have.

You finish up and ease the door shut as you return to the hall. You hear a low drone, only realising it's a voice as you open the half-bath on the other side. You try not to overhear as Laufeyson's words grow clearer the closer you get. You hide in the bathroom, collecting the towels to replace. You put then in the hall and go down to the linen closet.

"Yes, tomorrow," his insistence pierces through, "I know, I know, we will talk. I... I'm sorry for all that."

He's quiet and you take that as your cue to retreat. You shouldn't be listening. You hang the fresh towels and gather the used ones to take down to the laundry room. As you come back up, Mr. Laufeyson emerges from his room, no jacket over his pressed button-up, as he rolls his sleeves to his elbows. His eyes flit up as you tiptoe along the hall and he nods as you pass.

"Have you gotten to the study?" He asks.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Great, I will require privacy," he states.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you take the broom from against the wall and roll the vacuum towards his room, you pause before you can get there.

There's a click in his throat as his gaze shrouds you, "don't worry, you will have no unseemly scenes from me, today."

The allusion to your unfortunate foray under the bed sets your cheeks alight. You wince and reach for the handle, biting down on your tongue. You push through slowly and set the broom inside. As you turn back, he remains just outside his study.

"A joke," he assures as he presses the door inward, "or an attempt."

He shrugs and disappears. You suck in your cheeks and think. Is he being nice or is he mocking you? You wish he would go back to be the stoic, strict man with the cold words. You're used to spite and while you long for warmth, you're comforted by the familiar.

Too much thinking, you rebuke yourself. Just get on with it.

🧹

Just after noon, you decide to take your break early. You usually wait until at least one but moving and bending and sweeping has left you lightheaded.

You go downstairs and refill your water bottle. You find your way to patio, the sunlight forming rings in your vision. You see the untouched pitcher, the ice melted and the water no doubt warm.

You leave your bottle and take the pitcher. You refresh it and come back out to footfalls on the steps. You look up as Ronan climbs onto the patio, a sheen of sweat across his face and arms, dampening the chest of his shirt and the edges of his sleeves. You smile as you set down the cold water.

"Just topping up," you say.

"Great timing," he sets down the lunch bag in his left hand, resting his other on the back of an iron chair, "do you mind?"

"Uh, no," you look at your water bottle, "actually, I could just go inside--"

"Wouldn't mind the company," he pulls out the chair and sits, "solitary work, I was chatting with the birds."

"Oh," your cheeks pinch.

He laughs at himself, "not really but I was tempted."

He tugs back the zipper and flips up the top of the bag. You lower yourself into a chair and play with the cap of the water bottle. You flip the nozzle up and down, watching the sparrows chirping wildly in the vines.

"Nice day," he remarks, "glad I get to work in the shade though."

"Hm, yeah, it must be nice to work outside," you agree and turn the water bottle nervously. You don't want to be rude and run off but you were looking forward to a quiet moment alone.

He pours himself a glass of water as you chew your lip. You stare off at the green expanse and lean your elbows on the table, still clutching the bottle tightly. As the silence settles, a rumble erupts from your stomach, squeezing your insides painfully. You look down meekly and lean back, drawing your arms back to fold your hands in your lap. You hope he didn't hear it too.

"You know," he says as he rustles a wrapper, "I've been known to pack too much." He takes half the sandwich and slides the other towards you, "wanna help me out?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't--" your stomach roars as if trying to drown you out.

"Really, I can't eat it all myself. Working out in the sun, I'll make myself sick."

"I'm okay, that's really nice of you--"

"I'd hate for it to go to waste," he insists, "you don't like ham and cheese?"

"No, I-- I don't mind it but..." you rub your arm, once more pressing on the bruise hidden under your sleeve, "that's... lovely, thank you."

You sit forward, not wanting to argue. Besides, you are starving. Your head is starting to pound and your stomach is knotting around itself. You accept the sandwich and carefully lift it up, nibbling on the corner.

"I brought some nuts, you think that chipmunk would like some?" He muses.

You can't help but smile, "probably."

"He doesn't really like me. I don't think I've ever heard one of those things growl before," he reaches in the bag and takes out a small container, "maybe you could try."

"Oh, uh..." you blink down at the plastic, "I guess... I mostly work inside."

"Ah, yes, it is a very nice house," he comments as he peers over at the brick, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stares then squares his shoulders and refocuses on you, "and your boss... he keeps you inside?"

"Well, no, I uh, I just... have stuff to do," you take another small bite.

"Mmm," he hums, "he keeps you busy."

You nod and shrug. The work can't be as hard as his. You don't think you could aim a hammer.

"Don't worry, I know his type. Up in their castles, they hate to brush shoulders with anyone outside their court," he scoffs, "you're a strong woman for putting up with it."

"I... he isn't...I'm not..." you don't know what to say without flat-out lying. Mr. Laufeyson might not be very amiable but he is still your boss. "It's just a job."

His eyes drift against and his thick brows twitch. He slowly raises the sandwich and takes and bite, the tension slowly leaving his posture. You glance back as a trickle runs down your spine.

You peek up to where his eyes had lingered. The curtains seem to flutter but it's too far away to tell for sure. You face the table again and gulp down the layers of bread, lettuce, and meat.

Ronan isn't so bad. It'll be nice to have someone else around for a while. Especially, someone who doesn't reprimand your every breath.

🧹

The end of the day nears and you look over your list. You've caught up on a few things planned for tomorrow even. You want to be able to catch up after whatever Mr. Laufeyson has planned. He'll be expecting as much.

You'll stay until Ronan is done for the day but in the meantime, you have a few last hanging threads to tie off. You go to the door to the study and knock. Almost as soon as your knuckles tap, a response sounds, “come in.”

You obey and twist the handle. Mr. Laufeyson sits and examines what appears to be a scroll, diligently polishing the brass ends with a cloth. You don't question him, you know better than that. Even so, you are curious.

“Um, Mr. Laufeyson, there are few notes I got from the carpenter–”

“Ah,” his brows rise as his eyes flick towards you. His hand stills as he keeps a slight bend in his neck, “Roman, was it?”

“Ronan, I think, uh,” you hover around the other side of his desk, “he has a few suggestions here. If you'd like to review–”

“Suggestions?” He tilts his head.

You take the prompt and look at the page, “um, okay, he recommends replacing the whole floor of the gazebo as the wood is rotting around the broken pieces and the moss has compromised the integrity.”

“Do it,” he sighs and sets the scroll down as he sits up completely.

“And the pillars, if he does just the one, it won't match the rest…”

“Tell me, does he do tear down? I'm starting to think we may as well be rid of the damned thing.”

“I could ask,” you frown.

“I was being facetious,” he sniffs, “though I'm sure you're all too eager to have another chat with that man.”

“Hmmm?” Your crinkle your brow.

“Did you enjoy your lunch?” He wonders.

You blanch. Had he seen that? And by what chance? Was it him stirring by the curtains?

“The sun was nice,” you say, “I wasn't out very long.”

“No, no, you should have breaks,” he says, “you work very hard, don't you?”

You blink. Is he saying something between the lines?

“I'll have my lunch in the kitchen tomorrow–”

“I am not trying to confine you,” he interjects brusquely, “you act as if I am a dictator. I never said you can't have a break. Nor did I say you shouldn't enjoy the sunshine–” he huffs and shows his palm in exasperation, “we are not arguing, alright? I am conversing with you.” He puts his hand down as it forms a fist, “I am simply checking in.”

You stare at him blankly. Your nerves swirl as you fidget. You can't stand this. The words being left unsaid as he pretends. Your heart pumps behind your ears as you feel it all spilling over.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” your voice quivers, “about yesterday…”

“Yesterday? Why, that was your personal day,” he says coyly.

“Look, uh, I know you heard… some things and I just wanna clear it up. It was nothing.”

“I don't know what you mean,” he squints, “it was only dead air. A misdial, I assume–”

“Then why–” you stop yourself and shake your head. “Nevermind.”

“Go on,” he urges, “why…”

You look away and rock. You've gone too far. You should know to just shut up.

“Why are you being so… nice?” You eke out as you dare to glance at him.

His irises flash like glittering emeralds. He slowly reclines and plants his elbow on the armrest and brings his fingers to his chin. He gives a thoughtful hum.

“I'm not nice?” He asks.

“Well, no, I didn't mean--f-forget I said anything,” you clasp your hands behind your back. “It's only…” you sputter and search for a way back but you can only go forward, “you made me tea.”

His eyes flit to the ceiling and back to you, “I did.”

“Why?” You ask.

“It's tea,” he throws his hands up and reclines against the chair, “just tea.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes tritely, “what else would it be?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“If you didn't like the tea, you could just say,” he continues, further throwing you off.

“It was good, I just…” you tug at your cuffs, “may I go?”

“Go?”

“The carpenter is leaving and it's almost five–”

“Yes, go see him off,” he snips, “and run along.” He scowls and taps his fingers on the desk in agitation, “as well, to show how nice I can be, I will allow you to sleep in tomorrow. I will not require you until noon.”

“Noon, yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mm,” he grumbles and spins his chair away from you.

You shrink down and drag your feet across the room. You don't know why you asked. Why did you blurt all that out? You're so dumb. You should just have taken it for what it was and kept quiet.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #au #maid au #series #dirty work #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel #ronan the accuser

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