Loki comforts the reader after the loss of a loved one (Tony Stark).

...

You woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in your bed. You were drenched in cold sweat and there were tears cascading down your face; you fumbled for the light switch next to your bed and suddenly your room was illuminated in bright light. Your breathing slowed as you took deep breaths, trying not to think about it, any of it, remember what Stephen had told you, clear your mind, think of smooth pebbles and waves, don't think of Tony, Tony...

A huge sob rose in your throat and you tried to force it down, which only made it worse; it escaped and tore its way out of you violently, loudly, creating an ugly noise of despair. You clapped a hand to your mouth to try and contain the sound, but more sobs were coming now; your shoulders shaking uncontrollably as you cried. So many tears... how did you have any left? People had reassured you that it would get easier, you were all in this together, they had promised that it would get easier, was this easier? It didn't feel it, it felt exactly the same as it had the night it had happened and you'd watched the light fade from Tony's eyes with Pepper hanging on to him like he was the only thing she had left and Peter had been next to you and you'd been sobbing, and you couldn't breathe, you couldn't breathe.

The tears kept coming and you kept your hands pressed to your face as you struggled to draw breath, which only made things worse, and now you didn't care how loud you were being because nothing mattered, Tony was dead, and it had been over a year and you still missed him so much and it felt as raw as it had the day it happened, and the day after that, and after that... Everyone seemed to be getting better, they were getting over it, but you couldn't, you just couldn't do it. It was almost worse than when you had thought Loki was dead. You had grieved his death before, twice, once when you hadn't been in love and once when you had, but you'd done it before. It had hurt like hell, but you'd been able to accept it after a while.

Not this. You had come up with a million different scenarios in which things could have gone differently, someone else could have picked up the gauntlet, someone should have killed that evil purple bastard Thanos before any of this had even happened. In your heart you knew that Tony would have wanted things to happen the way they did, if he was going to die he would have wanted it exactly how it had gone, but that didn't change the fact he was gone. Forever.

It fucking hurt. A lot.

You were on the floor now, your back against your bed curled up into a defensive ball as if that would keep the grief away. Of course it wouldn't.

Suddenly your door slammed open with the force of a truck and you jumped violently, raising your tear-stained face to the door. Before you even had time to realize that it was Loki he was next to you, he had you in his arms, and then you were on the bed together, his arms firmly wrapped around you and your face in his shoulder. You clung to him tightly, reaching the shuddery gasping part of crying – possibly the worst part. It was easier when he was here. He didn't talk – he didn't need to. He was here.

It was at least ten minutes before you detached yourself from him, wiping your face which was covered in tears and snot and more tears – an attractive look. Loki offered you a handful of tissues.

"Thanks." you said hoarsely, offering up a watery smile.

Loki smiled back – it was the saddest smile you'd ever seen.

You finished mopping yourself up and chucked the tissues across the room where they landed three feet away from the bin. You didn't get up.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up." you apologized, sniffing and running a hand through your messy hair.

Loki just shook his head and held his arms out to you; you gladly went to him and let him hold you tight – you felt so safe in his arms; already the hysteria you'd been feeling a few minutes ago was fading away and the pain in your chest was easing.

Things had gotten easier. They had. It was just in your lowest moments that you felt so awful it felt as though there hadn't been any change at all. That was where Loki usually came in, to remind you to remember all the good things in life. And there were a lot of them, and you had learnt never ever to take any of it for granted.

You were so lucky.

Feeling Loki's head dropping on to your shoulder, you untangled yourself from him with a small smile and pulled back the covers: an invitation. He accepted, and slumped into your bed without a word, evidently already falling back asleep; pulling you under with him.

You smiled again. Things definitely weren't all bad.

Reaching out with your left hand you flicked the light back off and let Loki hug you protectively against him as you felt his breathing gradually slow, hot against your neck.

You didn't sleep, there was too much going on in your brain to allow for that, but with Loki next to you it was easier to think, and easier to cope. To grieve.

Tony may be gone, but he would have wanted you to enjoy the world that he'd saved for you, not to spend the rest of your days grieving and thinking about what might or might not have happened.

You would never not miss Tony. You accepted that. There was no more healing to be done; you had to accept the grief as part of your life and move forward with it.

Loki frowned in his sleep, and you felt his arms tighten around you slightly.

You would be okay.