Being a freelance celebrity photographer was a great gig. You worked on your own time, got paid huge amounts of money to do your hobby, and could fuck off to an island getaway pretty much whenever you wanted.

Being the freelance photographer to a particular celebrity, or as the case was, a group of celebrities, was an even better gig because you were the only person allowed to flash a camera lens anywhere near The Avengers(TM) on a regular basis. All you had to do was follow the artistic whims of one Tony Stark and wife Pepper Potts-Stark, and your bills were paid.

Sometimes, the shoots were easy. Thor and his hammer? You just hit the button for twenty minutes straight and his googly-eyed-ness for his mythical weapon made the magic happen on its own. Peter Parker? His shoots took 30 seconds because he only knew how to grin like a teenager getting his yearbook pictures done. Getting Natasha Romanov to look vulnerable, yet tough, but not too soft nor scary, usually took a stiff drink and a whole lot of patience.

The studio shoots were your preference, though getting to ride along for some photojournalism during a fight wasn't a terrible time if you made it back with all your limbs. Usually your security team did a great job of setting you up where you could shoot the action without actually being in danger, but there was a time you'd been caught under debris and nearly suffocated before Tony and Cap could dig you out. But all in all, being the personal photographer for the Avengers team was great. You still couldn't even really believe it was your first real job out of college, but you knew your stuff and your hard work had paid off.

"Ready to photograph the world's best gajillionaire?" Tony Stark said as he breezed into your studio, fastening his cufflinks as he went.

"I sure am, even though that's not a word." You said, tapping the last button on your laptop and raising the camera. "On your mark, boss."

Tony was another easy one. He had about fifteen practiced poses from the years of magazine spreads he'd done, and all he wanted you to do was capture the same pictures with him in different clothes each time. It took barely any time out of your day, and the press acted like they'd never seen Tony Stark before when you sent them out.

As predicted, as soon as your camera shutter clicked for the fifteenth time, Tony was already walking toward the door.

"Same time next week, sweetheart?" He called over his shoulder.

"Bye Tony!" You called, returning to your laptop.

You worked for a few minutes loading the photos from the shoot into your computer and putting them into Photoshop to edit later in the comfort of your room. Then the hairs stood up on the back of your neck as you felt something watching you.

Slowly, you rotated your stool to look at the doorway. You were surprised to find Tony hadn't closed it after him, and even more surprised to see who was standing there.

Loki, God of Mischief, recently redeemed in the eyes of The Avengers, was looking around your studio space and at you in particular.

"Hi there." You said, swallowing hard.

Loki quirked an eyebrow, and then promptly vanished into thin air. You slowly rotated back around to your laptop, deciding you weren't going to question it.

Internal comms pinged with your schedule for the week, freshly penned by Mrs. Potts-Stark. You clicked the memo open, and one particular entry immediately drew your attention.

Thursday, 11am, Loki Personal Portfolio.

That would be interesting, all right. You'd finally get the infamous God of Mischief behind your lens. He had such perfect bone structure, and could change clothes with a snap of his fingers, honestly the ideal subject. You were going to have a ludicrous amount of fun.


The week ended up being so much of a disaster that it turned out you didn't have much time to get excited about Loki's appointment. Monday and Tuesday were entirely consumed by shooting a festival in Wakanda for select disbursement to Vanity Fair, and Wednesday was entirely consumed by jet lag, food poisoning, an incident with zero-G in the Avengers Tower that left your portrait lens shattered right before a 6-hour portrait session to update everyone's headshots for intergalactic affairs, said portrait session, and another round with food poisoning before bed.

You emerged from bed on Thursday morning feeling and looking like fresh roadkill. Even coffee and a shower barely made a dent in your looks. The dehydration was making you feel hungover, except you hadn't been drinking.

The studio looked like it had taken a hit from the business end of Thor's lightning storm, with gear thrown absolutely everywhere. A quick look at the clock confirmed you had fifteen minutes to get your shit together, or risk looking like an amateur in front of the God of Mischief.

First you dimmed the overheads to combat your headache, then got the studio lights warming up. Then came your camera accessories on a rolling cart, cords taped down so you didn't trip, and some more advil.

The door swished open, and you swiveled to look at your client in a similar fashion to the day before. Loki stood in the doorway, looking warily at your setup.

"Hello again." You said tiredly.

"You look the worse for wear." Loki replied as he glided up to your perch. "Long week?"

"You watched me lose my guts after those fermented shrimp, you know the answer to that." You snapped, maybe harsher than you meant to. "Get in front of the lights."

"As milady commands." Loki replied. He took his position against the backdrop and fixed you in his usual icy stare. You hefted your camera and brought it to your eye.

"Can you look less menacing?" You asked. Loki's lips quirked up a fraction of a centimeter, which made him look bored.

"Can you give me either a better smile, or maybe a smirk?" You requested. Loki's lips moved another minuscule amount.

"More."

"...More."

"...More."

This time, Loki broke into a cartoonish grin that was possibly the most unflattering thing you'd ever seen. He was absolutely messing with you.

"Look, the faster you cooperate, the faster we can both be done with this painful experience." You try to reason.

"Painful? I'm having the time of my life." Loki grinned at you. Your finger hit the button, capturing his genuine mischievous smile. You turned to the laptop as Loki frowned, realizing you'd duped him.

"Perfect, you're all set." You said to him, tapping a couple buttons on your computer.

"I am?" Loki asked in surprise. "What about the rest of the shoot? Mrs. Potts-Stark said I would have to stand here for hours under the baking lights, feeling years too old for this bullshit."

"Okay, Pepper, ouch." You said aloud. "But I have everything I need, I can use photo manipulation to round out the portfolio. If I wanted to, I could strike a deal with Burberry right now and you wouldn't even have to repose for it."

"I'm not sure what kind of delicacy a Burberry is, but I assure you that I would like to repose with it." Loki said, stepping out of the shooting area.

"Please leave my studio, I'd like to go to bed. If you want to shoot more, let's pencil it in for a day I don't feel like I rode home from Wakanda behind the jet instead of inside of it, kay?"

Before you knew what was happening, Loki reached out both hands to your temples and rested his cool hands against your skin. Instantly, your headache began to melt away.

"What are you-" Even the soreness in your abs from throwing up last night was slipping away.

"I'm not finished with you yet, but if our time together hinges on your feeling better, then by all means, fell better, darling."

You blinked up at the God of Mischief, who certainly looked as if he was up to mischief right now. His lips quirked up, and then his plain button up and slacks melted into a bespoke black suit. He teleported to his position in front of the lights.

"I'd like a few with this look please, if you would be so kind. I'll even endeavor to look more amused for you."

Wordlessly, you raised your camera and focused in on Loki, still unsure what was even happening. He moved between poses, offering a variety of expressions and angles. All you had to do was click the button and watch, mesmerized, as Loki slowly put a spell on you.

"That aught to do." he finally said, and you returned to awareness. At some point he had transformed into his armor and used his magic to give the studio lights a green cast to compliment his look, and you'd stood there like a mannequin.

"Did you do something to me?" You asked, feeling like the last hour had been an out-of-body experience.

"Besides cure your dehydration and exhaustion?" Loki transformed back into the clothes he'd worn when he arrived.

"I guess not." You walked to your rolling cart and put your camera down with numb fingers.

"Thank you for a lovely time." Loki said, sauntering up to you as you sat heavily on your stool.

"No problem." You replied half-heartedly. To your complete surprise, Loki lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to it before vanishing before your eyes. You stared at the spot he'd recently vacated for a moment, and then slowly rotated to your laptop.

Being the photographer for The AvengersTM was a daily adventure.