"Maybe you should think about the difference between us." My index finger darts between our bodies, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "We're not so different at all, Loki." He smirks down at me, leaning against the glass wall of his cell that separates us. "Maybe not."

His low voice sends shivers through my body. "But the truth is, that you're afraid of me, but I'm not afraid of you. Consider that, and you'll realize that there are many differences between a mortal," He points at me,"and a god." He tilts his head, and his smirk grows wider before he points his finger at himself.

"Give me an example." I challenge him. He pushes himself off the wall and walks over to a sofa on the other side of the room. The elastic material gives way under his weight, and once he's in a comfortable position, he crosses his legs.

"Give me a good reason, Loki. Not just your god stuff. I want something severe, something serious. A good reason that makes you better than humans." He chuckles. "Mortals are born to be ruled by gods like me. It's your natural state to submit to me." My teeth clench. He watches me with a smug smile, knowing how much his answer is getting on my nerves. It seems to be one of his new favourite things to do.

He  enjoys toying with me and pushing his boundaries, making me get mad, and he just did it again. I am mad. More than just mad. I'm furious. He always gives me the same answer. "We're not meant to be ruled! We don't need anyone to rule us! We are independent individuals, rulers of our own lives."

The smirk has vanished from his face but had been replaced with something more serious. "I know. Some of you are strong inside. Despite your fragile, mortal body, I can see the strength and the fire that burns in you. But not everyone is like you."

That touches something deep inside of me, but I'm not sure why. It sends a warm sensation through my body, and I think I maybe even blush a little, but luckily, he doesn't notice.

He stands up again, slowly stalking closer till he stands right in front of me again. Our faces are only inches apart, separated by the wall of glass. "I have one question." His eyes pierce through mine, and out of instinct, I take a step back. "Tell me: Are you afraid of me, y/n?"

For some reason, my answer to that question seems to be important to him. The way his eyes lock with mine, filled with seriousness and hope. Quite different than three weeks ago when he would not let anything slip past his barriers. Lately, he sometimes forgets to hold back any kind of emotion, and some things slip through.

My mouth is suddenly dry. I take a step forward again, my eyes glued to my hands. "Tell me," he whispers. I look up, and I'm sure to see something like sadness, loneliness, and despair for a moment. Like a spark in his eyes, a drop in the endless ocean of his eyes.

But it vanishes as fast as it appeared and I'm not even sure if it really was there. I shake my head, never breaking eye contact. "No." A barely noticeable smile tugs at his lips. "You should be." There's a twinge of disappointment and... relief?

"I'm not afraid of you, Loki." "Prove it." He demands. "You have the authority to enter my cell. Let's eat dinner together. Come into my cell and we'll eat together. I promise I won't harm you." Oh, how tempting...

The following silence seems long, but I'm sure it only lasts a moment. "I can't." He instantly turns away. "Of course, you can't. You're afraid. You don't trust me. Why would you?" Bitterness is written all over his face. He slightly turns away and exhales sharply, frustrated.

"Loki, I'm not allowed to step into that cell of yours. Even if I wanted to, I'd lose my job." I sigh. As I check the time, I see that my shift is over. I glance at Loki, who's leaning against the glass wall, eyes slightly closed, dwelling in self-pity.

I roll my eyes at his dramatic appearance and turn around, heading for the elevator that'll bring me to the kitchen. I'm starving. "Y/n!" I hear him yell behind me, but he has to wait. Food is more important at the moment.

The doors open soundlessly, and within a few seconds, I step into the large kitchen area. While opening the fridge, I pray that nobody stole my food and am flooded with relief when I see the pot with my leftovers from lunch.

I cooked some spaghetti but miscalculated the amount I would eat. So there were many leftovers. I shove the pot into the microwave and grab some salad. I quickly chop some cucumber and some tomatoes and mix them with some green salad.

While waiting for my food being ready, my mind starts wandering. I chuckle a bit when I think about me being in the kitchen of the Avengers Tower. Two years ago, I would never have dared to even dream about that. I mean, I'm just nineteen years old by now. That makes me a slight bit younger than the rest around here.

Despite them being somewhat overprotective over me, I truly love them. Not just for offering me a job. After everything I went through, they helped me back to my old self. Well, not exactly.

With this slightly chaotic team by my side, I became a whole new person. A better person than I was before, to be accurate. They gave me something to live for, something to fight for, and something to make me feel useful. But above all that, they gave me one thing: family.

Sometimes, they take me on very small missions, but not as much as the rest of the team. Mostly, I stay in the Tower and work with Bruce Banner since my training is still in progress.

I don't have super strength like Steve or fancy magic like Wanda. My ability to sense emotions is more of a barrier while fighting than an advantage, and not being able to control my shape-shifting ability makes me a threat.

I'm bored. I know they just want to protect me from harm, or rater others from me harming them, and the fact that I still cannot completely control my shape-shifting ability is probably another factor to keep me away from crowded areas, but I'm an adult. I might be young, but I can watch over myself!

The soft, melodic ding from the microwave pulls me out of my memories, and I take out the pot, grab two plates, and quickly fill them with the spaghetti and the salad. Then, I grab two glasses and a bottle of water before heading back to the elevator.

We often play chess, but lately, we would rather talk. After about a week of playing chess together, we have grown somewhat comfortable around each other, and two days after our first game of chess, the Asgardian god had actually started talking to me.

He even answered some questions, but mostly, he would try to avoid those topics. We've discovered that we share a love for books, but while I mainly read fantasy and dystopia, he enjoys poetry.

Who would have thought that? I smile when I step into the box that will bring me to Loki. Over the past three weeks, I've found myself enjoying his presence. He is actually nice company when he's not trying to conquer earth.

Despite his rather direct way to express the things he has to say, he somehow manages to almost always stay polite in his own kind of way. Who would have expected that from someone like him?

He is surprised when he sees me stepping through the doors again. I can see it in his face. The way his eyes widen for a second and light up. I can feel a spark of happiness tugging at a very little spot on my mind, but it's gone quickly before I can even fully notice.

I always think I must have imagined that, but that sensation is a little bit too realistic for my imagination. "Couldn't you stand it without my presence, darling?" He mocks. I know he doesn't mean it, but he can't go out of character. He doesn't know where to put me, but I'm pretty sure he likes me, and to be honest, I like him too.

"You wanted to eat dinner together. I brought you some." He narrows his eyes at the plates and examines their content before taking a step back from the door. I sigh. "You know I can't join you in your cell." To my surprise, he nods. "I understand."

I feel terrible as I place the plate in the transfer station and press the button to activate the transfer. I sit down in front of the glass wall and place the plate on my lap. I lean against one of the doorposts and pour some water into my cup.

To my surprise, he doesn't return to his sofa or some other place with a table and a chair but follows my example and sits down on the floor opposite the glass wall so he's facing me.

"You didn't poison it, did you?" He asks while observing the food on his plate. I roll my eyes. "Of course I did. I sacrificed half of my food to poison you just because it's fun. I'm fully aware of the option to simply put some poison in one of the bottles of water you get every day, but wasting my favourite food is my hobby, so..."

Dark laughter erupts from his throat, and I'm startled. I think I've never heard him laugh before. I watch him pick up some spaghetti with his fork. After swallowing, he shoots me a smile. "That's a nice alternation to the grey paste they serve me every day. It tastes not that bad."

I make a mental note to have a word about the catering for prisoners.

I find myself enjoying dinner with Loki. Even if he is an idiot, he's intelligent, and it's fun talking with him. Time passes, and finally, I have to go. I'm sad that I have to go now, but there's a meeting in half an hour and I don't want to be late.

The meeting is one of the most boring things I've ever experienced, and later, when I lie in bed, I can't stop my thoughts from wandering in a certain direction. I have feelings for the raven-haired man down in that cell. I have known it for some time now.

Even if he seems to be an ass and a dramatic, egoistic idiot, he's always nice to me. Not the kind of nice you would imagine, but he barely insults me, and when he does, he doesn't mean it. I can feel emotions, and I know that sometimes he feels sorry for something he said to me.

He never actually said sorry, but I feel when he is. It's different from the other Avengers. He often wants them to get mad. He insults them purposefully, and it happened more than once that we had to drag a furious Tony out of Loki's reach.

I chuckle at those memories. I think I fell for the god of mischief. Somehow, he's always on my mind, even though when I try to think about something else. What would I give for the opportunity to see him once without a barrier in between our bodies? I wish so desperately to be held by him.

How would it feel when he tucks me in tightly? The feeling of his body pressed against mine, his arms wrapped around me, the opportunity to rest my head against his chest. What would he smell like? I would sell my soul to hug him only once.

This must be a great feeling. Maybe he was right. Maybe we really need him. Not to rule us, but to simply live. I feel like that's the case with me at the moment. I really need him.

My eyes get heavier, and my mind wanders further, but a certain god never leaves my mind. Like an invader that is not unwelcome but disturbing. The thought of him won't let me sleep, and it takes some time to drift off.