shots

loki x reader - cold out (1/2) (a)

"what are you doing here, Loki?"

Loki pauses when he hears you say his name, feeling a momentary splash a guilt.

but, as fast as it appears, it's gone.

wait one moment. it's just a defense mechanism.

you close your eyes in your chair, sipping your hot chocolate as you stare into the fire in front of you. Loki can't tell exactly what you're burning, but he's sure it's not a usual fire starter.

"i came to see you." he admits, stretching his fingers out slightly by his side.

you scoff at his words, laying back in your chair. there's fire dancing in the reflection of your eyes, which makes it hard to see the utter misery behind it.

"don't. leave."

your voice is harsh, and you feel a little bad about it, but only a little. you continue to stare into the harsh flames, starting to hope there was something a little more alcoholic in your mug.

Loki's jaw clenches at your voice, and he begins to glare but stops himself. it's easier to be angry than ashamed. he sighs instead, sarcastic so you won't see his true disappointment.

"if that's what you wish, darling."

"don't call me darling."

"my words remain."

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you grip the mug tightly in your hands, which threatens to crack under the intense pressure. you both speak with that Asgardian accent, and you're starting to hate yours.

it reminds you of him.

every damn word you utter, hearing that fucking voice just makes you furious.

like you want to cut out your vocal cords and throw them in the damn fire in front of you.

or yourself.

no, actually, you'd rather it be him.

fuck him.

"fuck you, Loki. leave."

you scowl, not turning around to look at him. even though he said he'd leave, you haven't heard him walk away.

"i mean it."

Loki laughs at this, a cruel action. you squeeze your mug tighter, and it cracks. you scoff again, and throw the mug in the fire before any hot chocolate can get on you. you dry your hands with your magic and run them through your hair, trying to calm yourself down.

he bothers you.

hell, his pestering gives you migraines and every microscopic reminder of him angers you.

you hate him.

Loki cocks an eyebrow at your throwing your cup, and his laughter dies down.

"i don't get why you're so angry." he says, a frown playing at his lips.

"you don't seem to like me anymore." he smirks to convincingly cover his sorrow.

you clench your fist tightly, digging your nails into your palm and drawing a drop or two of blood. he knows just how to make you mad, that manipulative bastard.

"well, i am. and no, i don't."

you say, speaking fast and frustratedly. you bite your tongue, holding back the rest of your harsh words that would only represent a small amount of the hate you have for him.

that's what he gets for going behind your back and lying and manipulating you, anyway.

he deserves more than that, actually.