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Loki Laufeyson is the King of New York's Underground World.
Infamously known as the Frost Giant for his dauntingly tall stature and his cold and calculative exterior. Many stories about the Mobster Head had spread throughout his tenure; from killing his own biological father to climb the ranks to rumors of his method of killing being trapping the poor souls in a meat freezer to die in the cold.
Loki has heard them all, caring less about the rumors as long as they feared him and respected his position, their words did not matter to him. They never will. If he had an order, he needed them to follow or meet the same fate as his enemies.
But behind his exterior, this cold, ruthless leader was a heart. A cold heart beating for one reason, and one reason alone. You. The only good thing to have ever happened in his life filled with crimes, vices, and death. The only good thing he wish never taint or to expose to the world he rules. But make no mistake, you were his Queen, and his wrath will come to anyone that dares to hurt you.
Slow days are a mix of good and bad for the Mobster. His time spent droning on and on with meetings and business ventures around the city, no blood, no death, and no lie he needed to make about why he was badly bruised when he comes home to you.
It also meant, he was able to get home earlier, to be welcomed with a warm meal you had made, and if he was lucky, have you for dessert after. Nothing brings him more joy than to go home to you, to your embrace as you kissed his cheeks as you welcome him home.
Tonight was no different. The smell of Bolognese wafted through the foyer. Dismissing most of the guards for the night, he took his sweet time making his way towards the kitchen where you resided. His coat and jacket placed neatly on the coffee table to be placed in the laundry by you, with a few choice words of leaving it laying around all over the house.
A gentle smile rested on the man's lips, making his way to the kitchen, there you were in all your glory. His only purpose in this cruel life, he forced himself to rule. His queen, that wore nothing but his shirt and the shortest pajama you had in the closet. It gave him an eyeful, the much needed eyeful after the dull day he had, but the fact that this was what the rest of the men task to guard you had to see--it was bound for a punishment one way or another.
Moving closer to where you stood in front of the stove, your gentle hum was accompanied by the radio playing in the background. There was sway in your movement as your hand was busy with stirring. You were just a sight to see in his darken mind.
Placing a hand around the column of your neck, you had jerked, ready to to hit him with a wooden spoon had he not been quicker. The furrowed brows slowly begin to rise up, surprise and sheer annoyance was quick to replace your features. Had he not have been holding onto your hand, he was sure you'd continue on with whacking him with the spoon.
"Jesus, I'd prefer a welcome home call than this bullshit." You muttered pulling away from him and seeing the evident stain of sauce that now painted his shirt. "Great, now I have to deal with your fucking shirt." You muttered finally pulling away from his grasp.
This was what he loved about you. A spitfire, never one to back out from a fight and it had placed you in harm far too many times for him to count with his hands. But with all the fire burning in you, a fire he wish never to extinguish, was an innocence he never knew the extent of but feared how much he could actually corrupt.
He watched you, in the way he had always did even as you continued to rant over and over for a meaningless shirt that he could buy a dozen more if he so pleases but you would certainly be annoyed with. Even with the way your scolding continued on, he was at peace with this life.
Pulling you towards him, as you tried your best to pull away and continue on with your usual annoyed spiel, he closed his eyes arms trapping you against his chest. The first content smile and sigh escaped him simultaneously. A gentle hum begins to escape his throat as he swayed his body pulling you along with him.
The music changed, the song At Last began and the smile had played on both of your lips. Talks of this song being the one to be played when you danced for the first time as a married couple. To the life they would live, the house spacious for what number of children they were still debating on having.
This was all Loki wanted to go home to. This peace. This little moment of having you in his arms, to hold and to love. To cherish and worship. To protect from the life he was forced to have for himself and for the rest of his gang and family.
"No comebacks at all, Laufeyson?" You called out as soon as the song had ended.
Before Loki could even make said comeback, the sudden appearance of smoke and the scent of burnt sauce had you squeaking and turning your attention back to the sauce and what seemed to be at this moment--ruined dinner.
"Take out it is then?" He finally offered with a sheepish smile. The glare you were sending off was dangerous and another bout of nagging was sure to come.
"You're cleaning the pots." You muttered pulling out your phone to order dinner.
"Yes Ma'am." Loki salutes and takes hold of the burnt sauce. A feat neither you nor he had expected to happen.