Loki x reader he insults you

“I hate this feeling.” says Loki, muffled through the phone speaker.

“What feeling?” you ask, already scrambling for your stuff. Keys - check, shoes - got ‘em, phone - where’s your phone? Where’s the stupid motherfucking phone? Fuck! - oh. It’s in your hand, up to your face. With Loki huffing gravely on the other end.

Okay, deep breath. Full of worry on the inside, but calm and in control on the outside. For him. Please be okay, you silently beg as you race out the door. Open ended, not to anyone in particular, but for him goddammit.

“Loki? Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. What are you feeling?” the panic has to be obvious. But you really are trying, at least.

On his end, he pauses in an attempt to compose himself. Crumpled pieces of paper surround him on the floor. Pages of books, some from Asgard and some in need of return to the library and some that were gifts from you; he wants to scream at the thought that he destroyed something that you gave him - his scalp hurts as his hands rake through it.

“C'mon, Loki, you’re hyperventilating. Just breathe. Listen to me, alright? Breathe with me. Breathe,” he closes his eyes so hard he sees the Bifrost. Trying to block out everything else in his head other than your voice. His hand is shaking.

Clap!

He dropped the phone. The noise nearly made him scream.

“Loki! Loki answer me goddammit! What happened? Are you okay?!” you cry, breaking every traffic law in the books under the New York street lamps. “Loki, please tell me you’re there!”

“I’m here.” But by a thread.

He left the phone on the cool, white floor beside him and put it on speaker since he can’t even hold it up to his face without failing. His knees come even closer to his chest.

“Oh, thank God. What’s happening, I’m not there, I can’t see you - you have to tell me,” you gather your terrified, scatterbrained self, “just tell me what you’re feeling.”

Are there even words for feelings like this?

The physicality of it is … choking. Suffocating pain. Being swallowed and digested by your worst nightmare. How one imagines it would feel if their head imploded. Wishing it would just happen already.

“Heavy.”

“Heavy? What feels heavy?” you urge.

Loki distantly looks out the window before massaging the bridge of his nose. “My skin.” He breathes, like you told him to. “My teeth. My bones.”

You make the turn to the gate of the Avengers Tower. Coming to a hard stop and keying in the code with frigid fingers, your voice wavers, “That’s not a bad thing. It means you’re here. You’re on the same ground I’m on. You’re breathing the same air. You’re right here with me, grounded by the weight of the world.”

“I just saw lights.”

“It’s me. I’m here,” you coo, “I’m coming up right now.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Loki says, with gravel in his throat.

“Yeah, well,” you step into the elevator, “ I know it can be nice to have someone with you who understands how it feels. To be lost and afraid and hopeless.”

“You’re the only one who understands.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Eighth, ninth, tenth … “I think you’d be surprised at who else understands. It just so happens that you called me, and not them. And that’s why I’m outside your door right now.”

You lightly knock. Loki unlocks the door with his Seidr. Feeling alive, for a nanosecond. “Come in.”

The door creaks as you slowly step in, your eyes adjusting to only the light of a knocked over lamp. The curtains are ripped from the windows. A drink lay spilled on the nightstand beside the unmade bed - a clear indication of a problem - on side of the room. The lights from outside reflect in the puddle on the floor, across from Loki; against the wall curled into a messy ball of limbs.

He lifts his head. Through the awkward, amber light from the poor nearby lamp, tears reflect in his eyes. Just like the spilt drink.

As he stares at you with an unreadable expression, you navigate your way through the brokenness everywhere. Carefully you crouch by him, not wanting to cross any unknown boundaries, but then you decide to hell with it. You didn’t come over at three in the morning to crouch near of Loki. You sit down against the wall, right next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

No sounds but those of cars going by, over ten stories below. You find yourself fascinated by the calmness in the aftermath of a calamity. Someone sighs, but there’s no knowing if it’s you or Loki.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

He laughs. If only a quick exhale out of his nose with the world’s tiniest smile, he laughs.

After a moment of silence between you, the energy in the room lightens, as if you can finally breathe a full breath of air. And almost simultaneously, Loki lays his head on your shoulder. You’re literally on the verge of tears inside - he’s never been quite this vulnerable.

“You’re the only one who could make me even think of smiling whilst I feel like this.”

~

if y'all didn’t know hi hello I’m Mod and I’m an angsty bitch :D

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