Daggers In Her Smile
Summary: Since she could remember, Cassandra always had vivid dreams, dreams that often came to reality. She always thought it was not a big deal, everyone has some bizarre dreams, until one day she mets Loki Odinson.
Word count: 1135
Pairing: Loki x ofc
Rating: teen and up (for now)
Warnings: none except for Loki being his usual asshole self
A/N: This is my first Loki fanfic ever, I used to write for the Buffy fandom but that was a long time ago and in a different language too. Please, have in mind English is not my main language, I'm trying really hard here.
Find this on AO3
Cassandra could feel, almost to a physical level, the stare of the man sat on the leather sofa lingering on her. It seemed to her that those forest green irises burned her from the inside; a fire she had no control over. She sat at the desk for some hours now unsuccessfully racking her brain on an academic test she should hand over the next day; she kept reading the same sentence over and over again unable to catch the actual meaning of it, as it was written in a dead language unknown to her. And it didn’t matter how hard she tried to relax herself breathing rhythmically and emptying her mind, she couldn’t shake off of her that intrusion. More than just one time she had almost gave in to the impulse of grabbing the book she was bent on and tossing it on the source of all her momentary problems, only to eventually coming to her senses at the thought that that book was the only copy available in that library and if the content of if was going to endure damages while smashing itself against the arseface behind her, she wouldn’t be able to finish her thesis.
Loki, on the other hand, had not even the faintest intention of ending that silent torture; sprawled out on the black sofa a few feet away from the desk, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the book in his hands, his own undivided attention on the woman sat in front of him. Not that he would ever admit of being magnetically attracted by a mortal woman; he, Loki, the god of lies and mischief would rather swallowed his own on tongue and set his gut on fire than admitting such obscenity. But nevertheless, there was something about Cassandra the god couldn’t really put his finger on, something which made him unable to focus on the book in front of him. Was it cause of her gift? No, it could not be something so mundane or trivial, after all he – himself- had been raised by witches…
A loud thump broke the train of his thoughts bringing him back to reality: Cassandra let fall the heavy leather bound tome against the desk, face painted a deep shade of red which complemented perfectly with her mane, and didn’t bode nothing good coming, and she was now furiously strutting – literally strutting- towards him.
" Spit it out!"
" Beg your pardon?" Cassandra the hated regal and condescending tone of his, not to mention his accent somewhere in between the British and the “ in a galaxy far far away only god knows where”. Cassandra hated everything about him, starting from his raven black hair always perfectly maintained and shiny, and finishing with his way of dressing which made him look like popped right out of a fashion magazine. Cassandra hated everything about Loki Odinson.
" Don’t play dumb with me, your highness." Sarcasm dripping so heavily from those last two words, it could pierce a hole in the floor.
" I can feel you."
The smirk painted on the god’s sharp face was full of malice, pure mischief; Loki closed the book, his eyes never leaving the woman face who was now fuming with rage and, with a fluid movement stood up on his legs. Legs which, to be precise were particularly long and allowed the god to tower over and intimidate practically anyone and surely Cassandra made no exception. In fact, to be honest, the height difference between the god and woman was so massive to lay Cassandra in a situation of disadvantage fully evident, not that she had any intention to be intimidated by him.
One single stride was enough for Loki to stand a few inches away from her; Cassandra could feel his breath mixing with her own, not to mention his eyes which were now piercing holes in her skull.
" Woman, you’ re delirious."
Saying this, Loki turned his back on a Cassandra a few instants away from a nervous breakdown, and left the room.
✤
A week passed since the accident, that’s how Cassandra decided to classify the encounter between her and Loki, and since then she was masterfully been able to avoid running into that hateful smirk and the man sporting it like a personal trademark. Sadly, avoiding Loki meant avoiding the common library and the tiny adorable cafè around the corner of the street where she was accustomed to spent her afternoon; the only cafè in several blocks where they served a majestic mochaccino and some breathtaking raspberry pastries. Various times, while she was indulging herself in the pleasure of those pastries, she stumbled upon Loki; his slender figure casually standing to the counter, attention centered on Mark, the bartender whom Loki was usual to shamelessly flirt with just for the pleasure of passing the time. Mark, which crystalline high pitched laugh resonated in the all cafè at every line Loki said. The same Mark who shot up at any Loki demand and didn’t seem to share at all her disdain towards him. On the contrary. He seemed to hang from Loki thin lips and his face lit up every time he saw him walking the cafè threshold, circumstance that inevitably led to the abandonment of any other activity Mark was performing at the moment, including serving other customers, only to happily run toward him like a faithful dog. As long as Cassandra knew, there was no romantic or sexual relationship between the two, Loki simply, like the full tilt diva he was, took lot of pleasure surrounding himself with both men and women willing to do practically anything to simply breath his air. And thanks to his infinite charisma and very good look, he was rather good at it. Fact that never missed to provoke disgust, followed by several and metaphorical heaves in her.
And as much as she craved nothing more than to relax and drink a steaming hot mochaccino, the last thing she needed was to meet Loki after their last 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡, undermining her good mood and good purposes of maintaining calm. And if there was one thing Loki was a master of, surely was making Cassandra lose her temper.
Nossir. She would rather had stayed at home, she could call Helen and ask her to pass by her place and if, by chance she was to bring some mochaccino and raspberry pastries from the cafè, she wouldn’t say no to those.
After all she had a relatively positive week, which wasn’t exactly the norm lately, and its peaks was her passing her exam on full votes even though the small and fragmented studies.
It seemed to her, that since she moved to the 77 of Victoria Street, intern 221b and met her neighbour Loki Odinson,everything took the worst turn she could ever imagined.
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