Loki and Thranduil Imagines

No Words (Loki/Reader)

[Hey (Y/N), you're still awake?] -Loki

The beep of her phone roused her from her sleep.  She take a look at glowing white digit on her nightstand, showing that it was 1:32 a.m.

She was tired yes, but she knew that he won't text her unless something happen.

People mostly avoiding him. Jeering behind his back.  He would just smirk and twirled around, cackling as words flow smoothly out of his silver tongue.

They thought he was just some psychopathic bastard who loves to play with other's life and making them miserable. Some even said that he'll dance over your grave if you were to cross him.

Despicable.

Snakes.

He took all of the jabs to the face gracefully. He even spread open his arms and welcome them.  He didn't care for their opinions, for their glorified gossip that centred around him. He took and he took and he relish in them.

She knows better.

She has known him for years.

She knew his little gestures when he was feeling nervous, how most of the time his tongue stills in his mouth, heavy with unspoken words.

She knew that behind all of those smart remarks and snarks, lies a heart that beat painfully in his chest.  She knew how fragile he is, how much he feels.

He cares far too much.

Yet he never said a word about it.  He clamps them shut and buried them deep where no one can dig them out and trample over them.

His nonchalant act and fast retort may fool the others, but not her.  His eyes spoke louder than his mouth is.  Hurt, betrayal, anger burns brightly in them.  It's so bright that it was painful to look at.  For his sake, she endures and burn.

She reach for her phone and typed a reply to him.

[Yes, I am awake.]

She received no reply from him after that.

She let out a sigh and washed her face before turning on her television.

A rap on her door tore her attention away from the playing film. A miserable sight greeted her as soon as she opened her door.

He stood before her with his black hair tousled up.  There's gashes over his temple and his lips busted.  A dagger held limply in his hand, dribbling with blood. Without a word she move aside and he walked in.

She lead him to her couch and pushed him down softly. He obeyed. With a pat on the shoulder she walked to the toilet.  He understand that she wanted him to stay there, so he gave her a nod even thought she can't see it.  She returned with a first aid kit. 

She knelt before him and held up his chin.  A pair of soft eyes conveyed what she was feeling to him. He closed his in return. She cleaned the wound as her other hand softly caressing his own.

She sat by his side when she done treating the wounds. Eyes forward. He exhaled a sigh from his mouth before he leaned sideway.  His head rested on her shoulder.  She wrapped an arm around him in return.

The hand in hers spasms a bit as his body rack with sob.

No sounds coming out of him.

She held him tighter.

Her shoulder became damp with tears and yet she didn't say anything.  He weeped silently.

No words are needed for them to convey their feelings.

They understand each other that there are no words needed.

The world may all against him but she will did her best to pick up the pieces and be there for him.

She loves him for who he is and he knew it.

No words are needed for them to be in love.

-Art belong to me.