Loki X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

Nightmares (Part 1)

CONTEXT: Sometime after 'Avengers', Y/N and Loki are dating and Loki is plagued by nightmares of his time under Thanos' control.

(This could follow on from my story 'Secret Almost Lovers', I guess???? but you don't have to have read that. Let's say Loki is a prisoner in Stark Tower and Y/N  was his housekeeper until she fell in love with him, and now Thor is letting him stay on Earth. 

He says it's because Loki's powers are dulled down here so he's less of a threat, but it's actually because he likes finally seeing his brother happy :-)  Anyway, I'll shut up now and just get on with the story :-)

_________

Y/N is shaken from sleep, and, at first, she isn't sure why.

She feels strangely light.

Something is missing.

Loki's body had been wrapped around her back when she'd switched out the light, but, groggily, she notices it isn't anymore.

He must have rolled onto his side of the bed at some point; which he doesn't usually do. He usually—and welcomely—invades her personal space, partly because he turned out to be a cuddler and partly because he's a giant and physically takes up most of the bed.

His feet hang off the end, so much so they had to order a padded chest from IKEA to act as a makeshift extension, his long limbs sprawled lazily across the whole mattress.

Usually, Y/N has to find a crevice to curl up in; below his arm or nestled up to his side. Sometimes on top of him, her head rising and falling with the steady motion of his breaths.

But tonight there is no rhythmic heartbeat against her shoulder blade, or lazy hand possessively gripping her waist.

Drowsily, Y/N peels open an eye and slithers one arm out from under the covers to give her alarm clock a prod. 

A glowing three and several zeros light up the bedside table and Y/N's arm, which is prickled with a smattering of goosebumps.

Reaching over her shoulder, she half-heartedly feels for the solidness of Loki's body—a bicep or a shoulder she can pull use to pull him about her like a very large, living blanket.

The mattress is dipping towards his side of the bed, but her fingers meet nothing but empty covers.

Yawning, she tugs the duvet closer instead, tucking it in tight below her chin.

Sluggishly, the waves of sleep begin to close over her head once more.

...

Y/N wakes again barely ten minutes later.

She knows exactly why, this time.

Beside her, Loki is twitching.

Not constantly.

It's sporadic, and violent, every now and again; his leg, or a muscled arm, setting the whole bed shaking.

He mutters something, but, his words filtered through the dregs of sleep, Y/N can't make out what he's saying.

The fact that he's saying anything is enough to rouse her curiosity; Loki is not a sleep talker.

Or a sleepwalker. Or a sleep anything. 

Loki sleeps the sleep of the dead.

Especially after what they'd been doing earlier.