A/N: So, this is my very first Loki fanfic and my very first time writing a Reader character. I study PR myself and I have been toying with how it would be like to do PR for everyone's favourite alien Viking god. Like the Reader character here, I too don't have any experience actually being a publicist to any "celebrity", but I wanted to explore what it would be like to do something strategic for a change rather than the usual grunt work us interns get swamped with.

Hope you enjoy this fic! All mistakes in interpreting the profession are my own. I welcome any and all constructive criticism and comments! There isn't much Loki in this chapter or the next, since I'm just setting things up, but the ball will get rolling soon. You may also follow this story on my AO3: saiansha.

Life takes very interesting turns sometimes.

One moment, I was fresh out of college. I was attending overpriced networking events in uncomfortable corporate attire to snag an entry level job for which I was overqualified in a half-decent PR agency that would pay peanuts for salary. The next, I was in the Avengers Tower penthouse, sipping a Sidecar, dressed in my fanciest cocktail dress, hobnobbing with none other than the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist Tony Stark.

My shoulder still tingled from when Thor had accidentally brushed against me. I hadn't even recognised him in his burgundy shirt and dark brown pants until he bent down to make himself audible.

"Forgive me, my lady. It was not my intention to graze you so impudently."

I had managed to smile and stutter out a, "N-no no worries!" before rushing in the opposite direction.

Presently, Stark was wrapping up a conversation with Mr. Patel, an NBC head honcho and my ticket to this uber-cool soiree, before turning his attention to me.

"So, what's your story, kid? You escorting this guy around to pay for grad school?" He grinned.

"Beg your pardon?" I spluttered. Mr. Patel, presumably used to Stark's sense of humour, merely coughed beside me.

"I'm just kidding, kid. You look too refined for Patel here anyway." He teased. "What's your name?"

I told him my name, a tad coolly. This was not how I had expected a conversation with the famous Tony Stark to go. Not that I had expected any conversation with him, mind.

"And what do you do?"

I told him I had studied PR and where I had studied.

"How'd you end up as a plus-one to Patel here?"

"She's best friends with my niece, actually." Mr. Patel answered for me. "She persuaded her father to introduce my niece to a friend of his, a professor whom she wanted to shadow. As thanks, I have taken this young lady under my wing to help her settle in New York and swing a job at a PR agency. My original plus-one, someone from my team, could not make it to your party, so I asked our friend here if she'd like to come."

I nodded in confirmation.

Stark turned back to me. He had an oddly appraising look on his face. "So, you're still looking for a job?"

"Unfortunately."

"And you're obviously comfortable with celebrities." His tone was casual, but there was clearly something the man was driving towards.

"I guess?" I half-asked, half-said.

"No, that wasn't a question. It was a fact. You are. I've been watching you. You seem at ease. Well, at least you haven't whipped out a pink diary and fluffy pen and asked Capsicle to give you an autograph or asked Thor if you could braid his hair."

I let out a snort. "Well, I am awed. But, no, I wouldn't go to such extremes."

"And you can hold your drink."

Now, that I wasn't so sure about. This was my second cocktail. And, even though I'd only been taking little sips, I could already feel it going to my head. On top of that, Stark's random questioning was making me only more nervous, which prompted me to drink more. That, in turn, made my head fuzzier and increased my nervousness and so on.

"Is he bothering you?" A new voice asked.

I flicked my eyes to the left as a strawberry-blonde woman draped herself over Stark's arm. Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and possibly the only person who could rule Stark with an iron fist, if you pardoned the pun.

"Pepper!" Mr. Patel declared. "Long time no see!"

"Ramesh!" Pepper trilled, stepping forward to hug Mr. Patel. "Oh, what has it been, three days?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes. "I cannot thank you enough for that marvelous feature story you did on me and the company!"

"On the contrary, I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this interview! It has become one of the top most watched segment of our entire network and has already gathered upwards of 50 million views."

I watched with interest as the CEO, who was the epitome of calm and confidence in public, waved around her hands in embarrassment.

"Oh, come on, Pepper, take credit where it is due."

"Oh, don't worry, I will. Especially since Tony hardly gives me any." She remarked drily.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. 12% credit does not do you justice." Stark said with the air of a man who had repeated this statement countless times already. "What do I need to do to get you to forgive me, damn it?"

"Come to a press conference. Give an interview. Take some of the press around on a tour of the Tower so that they stop fearing that the Avengers are making plans for world domination." Pepper replied, also speaking with the air of a woman who had been repeating the same line since time immemorial. It must be their relationship trope.

"Do PR, yeah, yeah. Ooh! Speaking of!" Stark swung around, clapped his hands and pointed them at me. Pepper turned around to properly look at me.

"Hi!" Pepper said, brightly. "I'm Pepper!"

"I know!" I said, then remembered I had to introduce myself as well.

"I haven't seen you around here!"

"That might be because it is my first time here. I'm Mr. Patel's plus-one." I smiled.

"Ooh, an intern! How exciting!"

"Actually, she's his niece's best friend." Stark interrupted. "She's looking for a job, has great education, looks sharp, talks sharp and –"

"Tony," Pepper said, in a warning tone, almost as if she had realised what line of thought he was following. I was intrigued, because certainly, I hadn't managed to figure out why Stark was showing so much interest in me. Mr. Patel shared my look of confusion.

"What are your credentials, kid?" Stark asked as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I have interned at 3 PR agencies, one in the UK, one in US and one in France. I speak French. I held a merit scholarship at university and my GPA was 3.93."

"There! Excellent credentials as well!" He turned to look at Pepper as if he were a proud parent. Why the hell was he so interested in my academic accomplishments?

"Tony, she doesn't even know what you're getting her into!" Pepper hissed.

"She will when I tell her. I'm not going to withhold any information from her."

"Tony, she's just a child!" Pepper cried.

"Um…" I spoke up, unwilling to be spoken about in third person any longer when I was right there, especially when my age or maturity were under question. "I can legally drink if that's what you're worried about." I added, rather lamely.

"Sweetie," Pepper turned to me, an oddly maternal look on her face, "I'm not underestimating you. But –"

"But, no firm or person that is more experienced is ready to take on this case," Stark butted in, "And I'm thinking we might need a fresh mind for this!"

"Exactly! She has a fresh mind!" Pepper rounded on him, now borderline hysterical. "A mind that has a long way yet to go and shouldn't be subjected to –"

My drink was long forgotten. It was for the best, for I felt that I could not hold any more liquor as I struggled to follow this bizarre conversation.

"Pepper, Pepper," Stark soothed, but Pepper batted his hands away. "It's just an experiment, and whether it works out or not, we all will be there to support her! Look, maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe instead of some jaded hack we need a young, open-minded, social media-savvy woman!"

"Urgh! I give up!" Pepper exclaimed. "Listen," she added, and now clasped my free hand in both of hers. "You don't have to agree to anything he says, okay?"

I nodded dumbly. It sounded right. I didn't really need to agree to anything Stark said. It was another matter that I didn't even know what I was supposed to agree or not agree to. With a long suffering sigh, Pepper released my hand, patted my shoulder and sashayed away elsewhere without another word to Stark. I looked at Mr. Patel, silently beseeching him to whirl us away as well. Stark merely pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kid, do you want a job?" Stark suddenly spoke up, looking me straight in the eye.

"Of course," I shrugged, nonchalantly. He scowled at me as if I had said something stupid.

"I mean," He gritted his teeth, "Do you want to do PR for the Avengers?"

I blinked. And then, because I did not know what else to do, I blinked some more. If I had thought that Tony Stark joking about me moonlighting as an escort was unusual and unexpected, then Tony Stark possibly offering a job to a straight-outta-college girl who had barely any full-time work experience at a party at Avengers Tower was even more so.

"What?" I finally managed to squawk. At this point, I was past being articulate.

"The Avengers. You know, the people who are hosting this party and the people whom this tower is named after. The people who saved this very city a while ago. Ring a bell?"

I looked at Mr. Patel in terror. Surely this was some weird, real life variation of "Top 10 Anime Pranks That Went Too Far" that Stark was playing on me. And Mr. Patel was in on it too, which is why I had been added to the guest list so easily. And, anytime now, someone would thrust a camera in my face and yell "Gotcha!"

Mr. Patel did not confirm my suspicions.

"Yes or no, kid?" Stark's voice snapped me back to attention.

Something in his voice signaled to me how serious he was. That was probably why Pepper was so alarmed; she was right to be wary of hiring a person who had only just graduated a month or so ago to manage such a complex task. Curiously, her disquiet seemed to also stem from some odd but touching concern for my mental wellbeing. Apparently Stark felt she was right to be wary on both counts – though I wasn't sure why he would be wary about my mental health. Surely I did not look like I was going to have a nervous breakdown any second? Yet, he had insisted on going ahead with the offer anyway.

And so, more out of deference to that seriousness and my damning curiosity than any real understanding of what I was throwing myself into, I replied:

"Yes."