Loki Oneshots

Heartbeat

"Loki! No, no please..." Tears stream down your face as you try to get him to wake. "Please! Don't go... please..." He's pale and still as he lies in your arms, a thin stream of crimson falling from his lips.

You call his name over and over until your voice is hoarse and broken. If you say it loud enough then perhaps he'll open his eyes. Perhaps he'll wrap his arms around you and tell you it was a joke. Just a cruel joke...

Your eyes snap open, your sheets twisted around you and sweat sticking your pyjamas to your body. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Right?

You reach out an arm to the space beside you, expecting to find hard muscle moving up and down slowly as Loki breathes. Then he'll pull you into his chest and hold you, his fingers running through your hair so softly that the dream will melt away under his fingertips. You'll hear his heartbeat thumping rhythmically in his chest, showing you he is definitely alive and here with you right now-

But instead your arm falls onto an empty expanse of cold sheets.

It wasn't a dream.

Tears well your eyes once more, the skin beneath still sore from the hours of nonstop crying. You grab Loki's pillow and hug it as if it were a stuffed toy, breathing in the scent that still lingers from him - the smell of old books and paint and pine trees.

A sob escapes your lips. It's been almost a week now. A week of pain and nothingness. A week without him. Ever since that blasted mission you've played the moment over and over in your head, trying to work out if there was something you could've done. Something you could've done to save him...

"Y/n, be careful. They're relentless and sav-," Loki warns.

"Don't worry about me, love," You interrupt, smiling at his concern. "We'll get through this together, right?" 

"Right," He returns the smile and falls back into his fighting stance. You mirror him, unsheathing your daggers and taking a breath to steady yourself.

The Chitauri in front of you run forwards, jabbing their weapons towards you. You block and parry, dodge and weave, killing the creatures and watching them fall to the floor limp and lifeless.

Three Chitauri advance on you at once. You plunge a dagger into one's heart, kicking another to the ground and dodging the third's sword.

But you don't notice a fourth.

You yelp as it grabs and throws you to the floor, your comms device breaking from impact as the creature prepares its weapon to impale you.

Pain flows through the arm you landed on and you cradle it to your body, gritting your teeth and trying not to use it as you attempt to get up.

"Y/n!" You hear a voice laced with worry from somewhere nearby, but you don't have time to locate it. You've got to get out of here.

You roll out of the way as the Chitauri thrusts its sword into the place you were just lying.

The metallic sound of a blade slicing through the air rings in your ears as you curl into a protective ball, bracing for impact.

But the impact never comes.

Instead, there's a noise that makes your stomach churn, a horrid taste coming to your mouth.

You turn just in time to watch the now headless Chitauri fall to the floor, Loki stood with a sword behind him, the blade covered in the black, sticky, tar-like blood of the creature.