Book of Imagines

Ten. [Loki Imagine]

Everything was going great for you and Loki. You had gotten married a few months ago and had recently returned to earth after your honeymoon [and wedding with his family] on Asgard. Earth was your home and Odin felt more comfortable with Loki there.

But Loki was slowly changing, and not for the better. He was rarely happy, mostly angry. But the fear you felt for him didn't come out until one day when he returned from work. You were making dinner in the kitchen, you were usually home before him. You hummed as you worked, excited for Loki to come home. You had great news. That day you had gotten promoted and a raise at work. You were cooking something special.

The door opened and slammed shut as Loki stormed into the house. He didn't acknowledge you, he simply marched up the stairs and you heard the slam of another door. That was concerning. But you went back to cooking. The house, however, felt darker. You wondered if it was a side effect of Loki's anger or an omen of things to come.

When every thing was ready, you went up to tell Loki dinner was ready. He hadn't came downstairs or done anything for the past hour. You lightly rapped your knuckles on the door of his study/office where he was. No answer. You knocked lightly again. There was a little shuffle but nothing else. Slowly, you reached for the knob and turned it, the door opening. Loki was sitting in the swivel chair, brooding over something. He wasn't facing you, he was facing the desk which faced the wall. He didn't pay you any attention. You walked over to him silently.

"Loki, darling dinners ready-" you started as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Before you could continue your sentence, he jumped out of his seat and slapped you hard in the face. It stung and you saw little stars. Tears pricked your eyes.

"Did I say you could touch me woman?!" He snarled. You quickly back up to the door. "N-no you d-didn't." You stutter. He glares daggers at you as you cover your cheek and back to the door. "Get out of my sight mortal." He spat. You quickly nod and leave the room, closing the door.

You rushed down stairs and fetched an ice pack from the freezer. You pressed it to your face, the coldness numbing the bruise. What had gotten into him? When he hit you, there was no regret, no sorrow or guilt in his eyes. It terrifies you. That night you ate by yourself. The silence was colder than the look in his eyes. Weary of bothering him again, you left a note on the fridge saying what temperature to heat the food at if he got hungry. You took q shower and changed into pajamas, that warm feeling of happiness from earlier was long gone. Curling up under the blankets of your bed, you prayed things would be better tomorrow. Unfortunately, it only got worse from there.
[end of part 1]