Of Gods and Memories (LokixFemaleReader) [COMPLETED]

29

Ok so I was trying to find a new wallpaper for my computer, and I kinda stumbled across this and was like "damn..." so I'm blessing everyone's eyes with it :)

Also heads up: angsty, long, kinda cringe. 

He's muttering in his sleep again. I shiver, pulling the blankets tighter around my shoulders. I've noticed it a lot recently, the nightmares getting worse. It usually happens on nights when he's not totally exhausted from... whatever he's been doing beforehand *cough*, you, *cough*, but lately I wake up freezing cold a lot more often.

I shuffle away from him a little, stopping just short of the edge of the bed. I close my eyes tighter, willing myself to go back to sleep, ignoring the shivers racking my body and the occasional gasp or murmur from Loki. 

It doesn't last long as the temperature sinks even lower, now so cold that it causes my head to ache. I groan, sitting up and pulling the blanket around my shoulders like a cloak. 

"Loki," I whisper. He doesn't answer me, but it gets even colder, and I notice frozen droplets of sweat on his face, the skin palest blue. I hug my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. I should do something, but I can't from here. I can't touch him, it'll hurt. 

"Loki," I say again, slightly louder. "Can you hear me?" He frowns, and I watch my breath cloud in front of me as I sigh, then grab a corner of the blanket and wrap my hand in it, reaching forwards and gently shaking Loki's shoulder.

His eyes snap open, gleaming deep red in the semi-darkness. His lashes are crusted with ice, and the paler ridged marks stand out against his skin, almost like scars. But I know they're not, this is just how he looks.

"Did I wake you up?" he asks, turning his head to face me.

I nod, rubbing my aching fingers. "It's fucking freezing." 

"Sorry," he mutters, turning over. "I'll try not to do it again." 

"I..." I sit there for a moment, staring at his back. Is he angry at me now, or is he just giving back what I gave him? I swallow, opening my mouth to say something -- anything -- but he gets there first.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like that," he says, "as a monster."

I shut my mouth again, anything I might have told him disappearing from my mind. Hesitantly, I reach a hand out from under the blanket and rest it on his shoulder. "You're not a monster."

He turns towards me, the melted ice on his face making it look like he's been crying. He looks so sad and hurt, I can almost feel my heart shatter in my chest. 

"Don't say that about yourself," I swallow again, choking on the lump in my throat. "You're not a monster. I..." I break off, reaching out and running my hand through his hair. "You look like you really need a hug." 

"Is that an invitation?" he sits up, wiping the water from his face. I don't reply, just close the small distance between us and wrap my arms tightly around his chest, my face pressed into his slightly damp shoulder. 

"I love you so much," I whisper, "more than you'll ever know." 

He's silent for a minute, and I begin to think he's not going to reply when he says, "I know you do, and you are the light of my life. Never forget that, (Y/N)." 

"I won't," I choke, desperately trying to regulate my breathing. This isn't a good time for me to break down into tears. 

He strokes my hair, running his hands down my back and pulling me even closer to him. His chest moves evenly against mine with his breathing, his arms creating a warmth better than any blanket despite his unnaturally cool skin. No, it's not that sort of warmth. It's more like the sort of warmth you get from drinking hot chocolate on a cold day. Soft and sweet and safe. Can you tell how violently touch-starved I am?