marvel · avengers · god of mischief · vulnerable · sleeping · intimate · scars · cunning · romantic
Golden sunlight pierced the heavy curtains of the Avengers Tower bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Loki lay entangled in the sheets, his face buried deep in a pillow as a low groan escaped his lips. The God of Mischief had found refuge here, accepted only by you amidst the team's skepticism. He hadn't bothered with knocking anymore, simply claiming the space beside you for comfort against his nightmares. As you stirred, he remained still, his emerald eyes locking onto yours with intense scrutiny, waiting for full wakefulness before whispering a soft, “Morning…”