#mobius will get his coffee

[p4nishers]

"you don't find comfort at the tva" do u get that THIS was mobius' mindset before meeting loki?? that there was no comfort to be had in his life?? that when he wanted to spare an 8 YEAR OLD BOY it wasn't the right thing to do for the system? he carried that burden, the timelines branching and people dying because of it, all the way to that conversation with loki. i would bet anything it was eons ago for him and yet, that one little moment of KINDNESS burdened him. before loki, there was no comfort. then they came along and suddenly, the tva felt like home. it felt new, it felt lively, it felt real, it felt comfortable BECAUSE loki was there. they WERE home to mobius, after all those eons of aching loneliness. i have no doubt he was kind before loki because that's just who he fundamentally is but he LET himself be kind after loki came into his life. because he felt comfortable enough. and then. loki left him. the tva felt empty again. the food and coffee mobius loved so much turned to ash in his mouth. HE felt hollow and empty. home was never a place, it was always loki. the tva suddenly felt suffocating, he HAD to leave, he had to use the opportunity loki gave him, the chance they sacrificed themselves for.

and there – watching what could've been – he felt the sunshine on his face, and something else too. someone else. it filled him with him hope hadn't felt in a very long time.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬- 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

Words:10000 Contains Sunday leaks of joining.

Genre: Smut

Summary: The new astral member joins, Sunday, The man who tried to kill you all, He doesn't try to get along yet closes himself in his room, You decided to 'educate' him locking himself up is a shit. He began to change and tries to befriend you. He tries to help you with a experiment and sadly aphrodisiac is spilled

( Reader is a female) Reader's clothing is inspired from Mobius. Reader is a scientist!

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Aphrodisiac usage (Accident), Use of nickname (Sunday calls y/n as Angel), Switch Sunday, Vanilla, Slight use of Collar .

Reader is slightly cruel to Sunday at first. Because he was being alone all the time

Sunday was once the revered leader of Penacony. Now, he's just another member of the Astral Express, exiled and alone, thanks to a deal his sister made with Lady Bonajade. In exchange for his freedom, Sunday lost his home and the chance to return to his sister. This left him a quiet, withdrawn man.

The Astral Express crew wasn't thrilled about his presence. March and Dan Heng were constantly on edge around him, although he never caused trouble. He mostly kept to himself, a figure of quiet pain. Only Himeko, Welt, and Stelle were friendly, but you kept your distance. After all, he once tried to kill all of you. Talking to him was out of the question.

You, a scientist with a distinct appearance, wore a sleeveless tight black dress adorned with green and gold. A loose semi-transparent sleeve covered your left arm, complemented by a black glove, while your right arm sported a long black glove with three green claws on your thumb, index, and middle fingers. A gold earring dangled from your right ear.

March and Dan Heng had their opinions about you, describing you as a pure being, a seeker of truth, yet tinged with an air of malevolence. This was more a reflection of your creator than yourself. You wanted to be different but struggled with how to achieve that, often feeling like a mere extension of someone else's design, much like Sunday.

Despite the kindness from Himeko and Stelle, and Welt's occasional different yet kind glances, you remained detached. Dan Heng warmed up to you after you helped him in Luofu, while March tried to act strong but was clearly unsettled by your appearance. In truth, you were simply sleep-deprived, not the malevolent figure they imagined.

Sunday's solitude mirrored your own. You often noticed his sadness but never approached him. One day, you decided to confront him, unable to bear his passive suffering. Cruelly, you told him that sitting in his room and crying wouldn't change anything. His cleanliness and meticulousness only fueled your frustration. Yet, instead of anger, he seemed to find hope in your harsh words.

Sunday started spending more time outside his room, often in the archives, studying. Dan Heng began to bond with him, and it was heartening to see them grow closer. Meanwhile, you locked yourself away, working tirelessly on a liquid to control enemies, hoping to make life easier and reduce the need for constant fighting.

Despite your cold demeanor, Sunday persisted in trying to reach out to you. He would bring you coffee, offer help, and ask to spend time with you. His respectful, orderly nature clashed with your chaotic and isolated existence. You feared that getting close to him might lead to using him as a lab rat, a fate you wished to avoid for him.

You confronted Sunday with cruel words, calling him pathetic for isolating himself, yet it was in these moments that he found a glimmer of hope. He began emerging from his solitude, engaging more with others and spending time in the archive, studying and bonding with Dan Heng. Watching them grow close was heartening, even as you buried yourself in your work, seeking a way to control your enemies without constant battle.

Sunday, however, was undeterred. He continued trying to connect with you, offering coffee, help, and companionship. His respectful persistence and talk of order and harmony were at odds with your chaotic existence. Your fear of dragging him into your world of experiments kept you distant, but his genuine attempts to reach out began to wear down your defenses.

One quiet evening, you found yourself alone with Sunday in the archive. The room was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum of machinery and the rustle of old documents. Sunday was engrossed in a book, but you could see the weight of his exile still pressing down on him. His eyes, once sharp and commanding, now held a distant sadness.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. "Sunday," you called out, your voice unexpectedly soft. He looked up, surprised to hear you speak. "I know it's not easy for you, being here, away from your sister and everything you've known."

Sunday's expression softened, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flickering in his golden eyes. He nodded silently, unable to find the words to respond.

"You may not be able to talk to her, but..." You hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. This was uncharted territory for you, showing kindness to someone who once posed a threat. "But I can show you how she's doing," you continued, your tone firmer now. "I have ways to access information, even from afar."

Sunday's eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of hope breaking through his usual stoic demeanor. "You would do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, pulling out a small device from your pocket. "Just this once," you warned, your voice tinged with a hint of your usual coolness. You tapped a few buttons, and a holographic image appeared, displaying his sister engaged in her media life She looked well, strong, and composed, a stark contrast to Sunday's current state. Tho, he could tell it might be a facade.

Sunday watched the image in silence, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotions. After a few moments, he turned to you, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

You quickly deactivated the device and stepped back, your expression hardening. "Don't get the wrong idea," you snapped, trying to maintain your distance. "This doesn't change anything between us. I'm not your friend, and I'm not doing this out of kindness."

Sunday's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding your boundaries. "I know," he said, his voice steady despite the rejection. "But still, thank you. It means more than you know."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Just... don't make it a habit," you muttered, turning to leave. But before you walked out, you paused at the door, glancing back at him. "And don't let this make you soft. You still have a long way to go."

Sunday nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "Understood," he replied, watching as you disappeared into the corridor, leaving him alone with the lingering warmth of your unexpected kindness.

Several days had passed since the night in the archive, and you continued your work in isolation. You avoided Sunday, keeping yourself busy with your research and experiments. However, the memory of his grateful eyes lingered in your mind, making it difficult to maintain your usual distance.

He was standing by a window, gazing out at the stars. The soft glow of the celestial bodies illuminated his face, highlighting the sadness in his golden eyes. Seeing him like that, a pang of frustration and concern hit you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before approaching him. "Sunday," you called out, your voice sharper than intended. He turned to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Why do you always look so lost?" you demanded, your frustration spilling over. "You can't just stand around, wallowing in your own misery."

Sunday blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know," he said quietly. "But... it's hard. Being here, away from everything I knew, from my sister..."

Before you could respond, Sunday reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly warm, and you felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite place.

"You've been there for me," Sunday said, his voice steady and sincere. "Even if it's only been a few weeks, even if it was just tough love... you've shown me more kindness than I deserve. And for that, you're now one of my dear people."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. The sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you—it was disarming. You felt your resolve wavering, but you couldn't let your guard down.

With a soft sigh, you reached up and gently removed his hands from your face. "Don't be ridiculous," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "I only did what anyone would do. Besides, seeing you all sad and moping around just makes me angry. It's not like I care or anything."

Sunday chuckled softly, a warm, gentle sound that made your heart skip a beat. "I understand," he said, smiling softly. "But still, thank you. Your words, even if harsh, pushed me to try and move forward."

You looked away, feeling a mix of emotions. It was strange, being thanked for something you hadn't meant as a kindness. But there was a part of you that was glad—glad that he was starting to find his way, glad that your harshness had somehow helped him.

"Just... don't make it a habit to get all sentimental," you said, trying to sound stern. "I'm not good with that kind of stuff."

Sunday nodded, a small smile still on his lips. "I won't," he promised. "But know that I appreciate it, even if you don't want to admit you care."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Whatever. Just... try to keep your chin up, okay? It's annoying when you're all downcast."

He nodded again, the smile on his face growing. "I'll do my best," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "And... thank you, again. For everything."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, your heart racing. You didn't know what to make of these new feelings, this strange connection that was forming between you and Sunday. All you knew was that, despite your best efforts to keep your distance, something had shifted. And you weren't sure how to handle it.

 You threw yourself even deeper into your work, trying to drown out the confusing feelings that had begun to stir inside you. The project you were working on—a chemical solution to control enemies—became an obsession. You worked tirelessly, barely stopping to eat or sleep, driven by an intense need to prove something to yourself, though you weren't entirely sure what that was.

One night, as you were in the lab, your hands trembled from exhaustion and stress. You had been working for hours, your mind a blur of formulas and calculations. The rows of bottles filled with iodine solutions on the lab bench seemed to dance in front of your eyes, the chemicals inside them catching the light in a mesmerizing, yet nauseating, display.

You reached for a beaker, but your vision swam, and your hand slipped. The beaker tipped over, sending a cascade of glass and liquid toward the carefully arranged bottles of iodine. Instinctively, you lunged to catch the falling bottles, but your tired body wasn't fast enough. The sound of shattering glass filled the room, the sharp smell of iodine stinging your nostrils.

Panic surged through you. The thought of losing all your work, of having to start over, was too much to bear. You screamed, a raw, frustrated sound that echoed off the sterile walls of the lab. The noise seemed to vibrate in your bones, shaking loose the tears you had been holding back for what felt like forever.

As the adrenaline faded, you slumped to the floor, the chaos around you a stark contrast to the cold, clinical order you usually maintained. The crash had knocked over more than just bottles—it had broken through the walls you'd built around yourself, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

You stayed on the floor for what felt like an eternity, the coolness of the tiles seeping through your clothes, grounding you. Eventually, the exhaustion became too much, and you closed your eyes, unable to fight the overwhelming need for sleep any longer. But even in sleep, you found no peace. Your dreams were plagued by the image of Sunday, his sad eyes and gentle hands haunting you, mingling with the guilt of pushing him away and the fear of losing control.

You woke up several times that night, each time more exhausted than before, your body aching from the uncomfortable position and the relentless stress. When morning finally came, you felt like a shadow of yourself, the weight of your own expectations crushing down on you.

As you slowly cleaned up the broken glass and iodine, you couldn't help but think about how fragile everything seemed—your work, your emotions, your relationships. The image of Sunday holding your face, his words about you being one of his dear people, replayed in your mind. It felt like a paradox: how could you be dear to anyone when you couldn't even keep yourself together?

Sunday, noticing your increasingly frazzled state, couldn't shake the concern he felt. He remembered the few moments when you'd shown a glimpse of vulnerability, and he knew you were pushing yourself too hard. Determined to do something for you, he sought advice from Himeko, one of the few people on the Astral Express who seemed to understand you.

One quiet morning, while most of the crew was occupied with their own tasks, Sunday found Himeko in the lounge, sipping her morning coffee. He approached her hesitantly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

"Himeko," he began, catching her attention. She looked up, smiling warmly.

"Sunday, " she greeted him. "What brings you here so early?"

He shifted nervously, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "I wanted to ask you something... about her," he said, referring to you. "I want to do something nice, but I'm not sure what she'd appreciate."

Himeko raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "That's very thoughtful of you," she said, setting her coffee down. "She doesn't often show what she likes, but from what I've seen, she has a soft spot for cute things. Especially sweets, like strawberry cake."

Sunday nodded, absorbing the information. "Strawberry cake," he repeated, as if committing it to memory. "Any other tips?"

Himeko chuckled. "Just be genuine. She might not show it, but small gestures can mean a lot to her. And knowing you, I'm sure whatever you do will be perfectly in order."

"Order-"

"It's a habit you couldn't control, Don't worry You are perfectly fine the way you are."

With a grateful smile, Sunday thanked Himeko and set off to prepare his plan. He wasn't particularly skilled in the kitchen, but he was determined to make something special for you. He meticulously researched recipes for strawberry cake, wanting to ensure everything was perfect.

The next day, Sunday took over the small kitchen area of the Astral Express. He donned an apron and got to work, his movements precise and careful. He measured each ingredient with exacting precision, making sure everything was just right. The way he handled everything was almost surgical—clean, orderly, and deliberate.

He prepared the batter, mixing it until it was smooth and lump-free. Then he carefully poured it into a baking pan, making sure it was evenly spread. As the cake baked, he prepared the frosting, whipping cream until it was light and fluffy, then adding a touch of pink coloring and fresh strawberries for that perfect touch of sweetness.

When the cake was ready, he let it cool before applying the frosting. He decorated it with a neat arrangement of strawberry slices on top, the vibrant red standing out against the soft pink frosting. The final product was immaculate, each detail carefully considered and executed.

Sunday stood back, admiring his work. He felt a sense of pride and anticipation, hoping that this small gesture would bring a smile to your face, or at the very least, a moment of peace amidst your chaotic life. He carefully packed the cake, making sure it would remain perfect until he presented it to you.

Later, he found you in your lab, still surrounded by your experiments. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes, but there was a determined set to your jaw that Sunday couldn't help but admire.

"Hey," he called softly, catching your attention. You looked up, surprised to see him standing there with a box in his hands.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to mask your curiosity with indifference.

Sunday smiled gently, holding out the box. "I noticed you've been working hard, and I thought you could use a break. So... I made something for you."

You hesitated, then took the box, opening it to reveal the beautifully decorated strawberry cake. Your eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of something softening your usually guarded expression.

"You made this?" you asked, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

He nodded, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah. I hope you like it. I know it's not much, but... I wanted to do something nice for you."

You stared at the cake, the neatness and care evident in every detail. It was unlike anything you'd expected, and it stirred something inside you—a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

"It's... really nice," you admitted, your voice softer than usual. "Thank you, Sunday."

He smiled, relief and happiness clear in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it. Just... take a break, okay? You can't keep going like this."

As the initial surprise wore off, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. You weren't used to people doing things like this for you, and the vulnerability it stirred made you uncomfortable. Trying to regain your composure, you quickly bowed your head in a gesture of thanks.

"Thank you, Sunday," you said, your voice steady but with an edge of formality. "I'll... enjoy this."

Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel and quickly made your way to your room, shutting the door behind you with more force than you intended. The sound echoed down the corridor, and Sunday flinched slightly, concern etching his features. He stood there, staring at the closed door, a pang of worry gnawing at him. Had he overstepped? Misread the situation? The abruptness of your exit made him think he might have upset you.

However, just as he was about to turn away, he heard a muffled sound coming from behind your door. He paused, straining to listen. The walls were surprisingly thin, and after a moment, he clearly heard your voice, raised in an uncharacteristic shout.

"Oh my god, this is amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine excitement and delight. "It's so good! I can't believe he made this!"

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, and then a slow, relieved smile spread across his face. The tension in his shoulders eased as he realized that your abrupt departure wasn't out of anger but rather a reaction to your own overwhelming emotions. The smile deepened into one of genuine happiness as he listened to your enthusiastic exclamations.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, shaking his head. It was a rare sight, hearing you so openly expressive, and it filled him with a quiet joy. For once, he'd managed to do something right, to bring a bit of happiness into your world.

As he walked away from your door, Sunday's heart felt lighter. He knew you weren't the type to openly express gratitude or affection, but your reaction told him everything he needed to know. It was enough to hear your joy, even if it was through the walls. He was pleased—more than pleased, actually—knowing that his gesture had been well-received and that, even if just for a moment, he'd managed to make you happy.

Inside your room, you sat down with the cake Sunday had made, a fork in hand. The first bite melted in your mouth, the sweetness of the strawberries and the light, fluffy texture of the cake taking you by surprise. It was perfect—so much so that tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of joy and overwhelming emotion.

"This is so good," you murmured between bites, unable to stop yourself. "How did he even do this? It's amazing..."

Unbeknownst to you, March had been passing by your door when she overheard your exclamations. Curious, she stopped to listen, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized what you were saying. A wide grin spread across her face, and she immediately ran off to find Sunday, eager to share the news.

She found him in the common area, quietly reading a book. "Sunday!" she called out, her voice filled with excitement. He looked up, startled by her enthusiasm.

"What's going on?" he asked, closing his book.

March practically bounced on her feet. "I just heard her in her room! She was saying how amazing the cake was! You really made her day, you know that?" She then clasped her hands together, her eyes wide and pleading. "Could you make something for me too? Please? Pretty please? I promise I'll be your best friend forever!"

Sunday chuckled, genuinely amused by her excitement. "Sure, March," he agreed easily. "I'd be happy to make something for you. What would you like?"

March's eyes sparkled with delight. "Surprise me! I trust your cooking skills completely after hearing how much she liked the cake."

As they talked, Dan Heng and Stelle happened to walk by. Catching the conversation, Stelle grinned and leaned in. "Did I hear something about food?" she asked, her tone playful. "If there's a chance for some free food, count me in!"

Dan Heng, standing beside her, was quieter but curious. He glanced at Sunday, then nodded slightly. "I'm interested too," he admitted, though more reservedly. "It's not every day we get to try something special."

Sunday smiled warmly at the group. "Alright, then," he said. "I'll make something special for everyone. How about a small dinner? It'll be a good chance for us all to sit down and enjoy a meal together."

The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, especially from March and Stelle. Dan Heng, though more subdued, seemed pleased by the prospect as well. They all agreed to meet later that evening in the dining area.

As they left to prepare for the impromptu gathering, Sunday felt a deep sense of contentment. He was grateful for the chance to bring a bit of joy to the team, especially to you. The thought of you enjoying the cake, even crying over it, brought a warm feeling to his heart. It was a simple act, but it seemed to have bridged a small gap between him and the rest of the crew, making him feel more at home on the Astral Express.

That evening, as Sunday worked in the kitchen, preparing a meal with the same care and precision he had put into the cake, he couldn't help but look forward to the dinner. It wasn't just about the food

The dinner Sunday prepared was a quiet but pleasant affair. The crew gathered around the table, enjoying the food he'd painstakingly made. March, in particular, was ecstatic as she dug into the strawberry cake he had baked again, savoring every bite. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she couldn't help but express her joy aloud.

"Sunday, this cake is amazing!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "I think I can forgive you for everything—even for trying to kill us all." She laughed, though there was a hint of seriousness behind her words.

Sunday's expression grew more somber as he set down his fork. He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of his companions. There was a moment of silence, a quiet acknowledgment of the weight of the past. He knew he couldn't ignore it or brush it aside with a few kind gestures.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I need to say something," he began, his voice steady but laced with a deep sincerity. "I know I haven't been the most welcomed presence on the Astral Express. And I understand why. My actions before... they were inexcusable. I was following a path that I believed was right, a path guided by my devotion to the Aeon of Order."

Sunday paused, choosing his words carefully. "All my life, I was made to follow that path, to uphold order and protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was my purpose, my reason for existing. But in doing so, I lost sight of what was truly important. I caused harm, and for that, I am deeply, terribly sorry."

He looked directly at March, then at the others, his eyes earnest. "I know an apology can't erase the past, but I want you all to know that I'm trying to find a new path. My conversation with her"—he glanced toward your direction—"made me realize that I can't cling to my old beliefs if they're causing harm. I need to search for my own meaning, beyond what I was made to believe."

Sunday's voice softened, a note of vulnerability creeping in. "I'm committed to moving forward, to finding a way to live that doesn't hurt others. I want to be better, to be someone you can trust. I understand if forgiveness takes time, or if it's something you can't give. But I want to try, to be a friend, and to support all of you as best I can."

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over everyone. March, who had been listening intently, set her fork down and leaned forward, her expression softening. "Sunday," she said gently, "we all make mistakes. It's part of being human—or whatever we are." She smiled wryly. "The fact that you're trying to change, that you're aware of the impact you've had, it means a lot."

She glanced at Dan Heng and Stelle, who both nodded in agreement. Dan Heng spoke up next, his tone calm and measured. "We appreciate your honesty. It's not easy to confront one's past, especially when it involves such difficult choices. But the fact that you're willing to take responsibility and seek a new path... it's a good start."

The next day.

You brewed yourself a cup of coffee and made your way to the common seating area, seeking a moment of quiet. As you entered, you noticed Sunday sitting by the window, seemingly lost in thought. The early morning light cast a gentle glow around him, highlighting his contemplative expression.

When he spotted you, his face brightened with a slight smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted you, his tone warm and teasing.

Caught off guard by the unexpected familiarity, you felt a flutter of flustered embarrassment but quickly masked it with a composed expression. "Good morning," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you settled into a nearby seat.

As you sipped your coffee and began to settle into your seat, Sunday glanced over with genuine curiosity. "How's the work going?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You sighed, the fatigue and stress of your ongoing projects bubbling up despite your best efforts to stay composed. "It's been a lot," you admitted, rubbing your eyes. "There's so much to manage, and I feel like I'm barely keeping it together. The more I try to get ahead, the more it seems like everything's falling apart."

Sunday's gaze softened with concern. "That sounds really tough. If you don't mind me asking, what's been the biggest challenge?"

You leaned back, your frustration giving way to a need to vent. "It's the constant pressure to get everything perfect. The experiments, the calculations, everything has to be precise. But when something goes wrong, it feels like it's the end of the world. And it's just me—no one to really help or share the load."

Sunday nodded, absorbing your words with empathy. "I understand. It sounds overwhelming. But, if you'd like, I could help you out. I'm not exactly a scientist, but I can assist with the tasks and take on some of the less critical parts of the work. I've been told I'm good at keeping things organized."

You looked at him, surprised but appreciative. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on you."

He smiled reassuringly. "Not at all. I'd actually like to help. I've been trying to find ways to contribute more and be useful. And if I can ease some of your stress, that would be worth it."

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. The idea of having someone to share the workload with was tempting, and Sunday's genuine offer seemed sincere. Finally, you nodded, a hint of relief in your eyes. "Alright, if you're sure you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it."

"Great," Sunday said, standing up and heading toward a nearby workbench. "I'll get started by organizing your workspace and sorting through some of the data. That should free you up to focus on the more critical tasks. And don't worry about feeling stressed—I'm here to help you, not add to the pressure."

You watched as he began to sort through the scattered papers and equipment, his movements methodical and precise. A sense of calm began to settle over you, knowing that you had support. The thought of someone taking care of the more mundane aspects of your work was a welcome relief.

As Sunday worked alongside you, helping to organize your cluttered workspace, he noticed a peculiar object among the scattered papers and equipment. It was a collar-like item, adorned with intricate designs but clearly out of place amidst the scientific apparatus.

He picked it up, examining it with curiosity. "What's this?" he asked, holding the collar up for you to see.

You glanced over, momentarily distracted from your tasks. A small frown crossed your face as you recognized the collar. "Oh, that. It's something I picked up a while ago. A scammer in Belobog, a planet we traveled to, sold it to me. He claimed it was an ancient artifact with special properties."

Sunday raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "And did it turn out to be...?"

You let out a small, incredulous laugh. "A scam. It's basically a dog collar—probably for some sort of pet or even a decorative piece. Definitely not the ancient relic he made it out to be. It's just an overpriced piece of junk."

Sunday examined it more closely, still skeptical. "It looks pretty elaborate for a simple dog collar. Did the scammer give any other details about its supposed origins?"

You shook your head, shrugging. "Not really. Just that it was from some ancient civilization, but it was clear he was just trying to make a quick buck. We were too eager to find something interesting at the time and didn't question it enough."

He placed the collar back on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "It's impressive how convincing some people can be. But it's good you realized it in time. At least it didn't cost you more than it's worth."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Yeah, it was a lesson learned. I guess sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the excitement of something that seems unique or valuable."

As Sunday continued to help you with your tasks, you couldn't resist teasing him a bit about the collar. You picked it up again, examining it with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"You know," you said, holding the collar up with a smirk, "if you ever want to use this on me, you should let me know. It might be... interesting."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, and a deep blush spread across his face. His wings, which were normally relaxed, flared out slightly as he turned his head, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment. "W-What? No, that's not... I mean, I wouldn't..."

You laughed, finding his reaction both endearing and amusing. "Oh, come on, Sunday. You do know what I mean. You're not fooling anyone with that blush."

He stammered, struggling to find the right words. "I-I didn't mean—It's just a collar, and I—"

Your laughter grew, light and genuine. "Relax, Sunday. I'm just teasing. But seeing you so flustered is pretty entertaining."

He finally managed to compose himself, though a faint red hue still lingered on his cheeks. He shook his head, trying to regain his usual calm demeanor. "I guess you got me there," he said, his voice a bit steadier now but still tinged with embarrassment. "I didn't expect that kind of joke."

You continued to chuckle, appreciating the lighter moment amidst the stress. "Well, you did make my day a bit brighter with that reaction. Thanks for being such a good sport."

Sunday managed a sheepish smile, the tension easing. "Glad to hear that. I suppose I should be prepared for all kinds of teasing now."

You grinned, enjoying the playful banter. "Just a fair warning—don't be surprised if I find more ways to make you blush."

Sunday took his new role as your assistant seriously, diligently organizing and tidying your workspace. His meticulous nature ensured that everything was in its place, which was a welcome change from the clutter that had previously overwhelmed you.

However, his relentless focus on maintaining order did come with a downside. He frequently interrupted your work to adjust things or make small improvements. At first, you appreciated the help, but after a while, his constant presence became a bit of a distraction.

You sighed, pausing your work as he appeared once again to rearrange a stack of papers. "Sunday, you're doing a great job with the cleaning, but you're kind of interrupting my flow. Can you just... give me a few minutes to focus? I'll call you if I need anything."

Sunday looked momentarily taken aback, but he nodded. "Oh, right. I didn't mean to be a distraction. I'll just—"

Before he could finish, you playfully cut him off. "Here, take a seat for a moment. I need you to be a good boy and let me work without constantly hovering."

With a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, you guided him to a nearby chair and gently but firmly encouraged him to sit down. He complied, though the weight of his wings made him look slightly awkward as he settled into the chair.

"Just sit here for a bit," you said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Be a good boy and stay put. I'll let you know if I need any more help."

Sunday, still slightly flustered from earlier, couldn't help but smile at your playful tone. He adjusted himself in the chair, trying to look comfortable despite his slightly heavy frame. "Alright, I'll stay here. I promise to behave."

You nodded and turned back to your work, finding it easier to concentrate now that he was no longer hovering over you. After a few minutes of quiet focus, you heard him shift in the chair behind you.

"You know," he said, trying to keep his voice casual, "if there's anything specific you need help with later, just let me know. I'm here to help, but I also don't want to be a bother."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw his sincere expression. "Thanks, Sunday. I appreciate it. I'll definitely let you know if there's anything I need."

As you worked on your experiments, you asked Sunday to bring over a specific mixture you had prepared. He promptly handed it to you, his hands steady despite his earlier embarrassment.

"Here you go," he said, carefully passing you the container.

"Thanks, Sunday," you replied, taking the mixture with a smile. You began to carefully mix the substances, excited to see the final result. The process had been challenging, but you were hopeful that this batch would be a breakthrough.

However, as you stirred the mixture, something seemed off. The concoction started to bubble and emit a strange, intense aroma. You frowned, recognizing the signs of an imminent reaction. Before you could react, the mixture began to froth and hiss ominously.

"Uh-oh," you said, your eyes widening. "I think something's wrong—"

In a split second, the mixture erupted in a small explosion of vapor and liquid. Sunday, who had been standing close by, reacted instinctively. He grabbed you and pushed you down onto the floor to protect you from the spray, his wings flaring out to shield you both.

The two of you landed in a tangled heap, Sunday ending up on top of you. The explosion released a potent, unfamiliar scent that filled the air—a fragrance that seemed to be unusually intoxicating. The smell was faintly sweet and seductive, carrying an almost aphrodisiac-like quality.

As the aroma enveloped the room, Sunday's breathing grew heavier. He seemed disoriented by the combination of the explosion and the overpowering scent. His face was flushed, and he collapsed forward, his head resting against your neck.

You were taken aback by the sudden turn of events, but you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, trying to offer comfort and reassurance. The closeness of his body against yours was intense, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Sunday," you said softly, trying to steady him. "Are you alright? Just breathe—"

He mumbled something incoherent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His face was pressed against your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. Despite the situation, there was a tender, vulnerable quality to the moment.

You held him closer, your heart racing as you tried to keep calm. The mixture's aroma had created an unexpected intimacy, amplifying the closeness between you. You felt a mix of concern and something more intense as you cradled him in your arms.

"Hang in there," you murmured, gently stroking his hair. "We'll get through this. Just focus on calming down."

As Sunday's hot breath tickled your neck, you felt his lips pressing against your sensitive skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close he was to you. You could hear his labored breathing, the sound growing louder and more erratic with each passing second.

His hands moved instinctively, gripping your waist tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, a sign of his mounting arousal. It wasn't just the explosion that had left him disoriented—it was the powerful aroma that seemed to have clouded his senses.

Despite the chaos surrounding them, you found yourself being drawn deeper into the moment. Your own breathing became shallower, matching the rhythm of his. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, a wild drumbeat that echoed the throbbing pulse between your thighs.

With a soft moan, you turned your head slightly, allowing Sunday's lips to find their way to yours. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he was starving for your taste. His mouth moved over yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.

The aphrodisiac in the air amplified the intensity of the moment, making every touch, every kiss, feel like it was infused with pure, unadulterated lust. You could feel the heat building between your legs, a burning need that threatened to consume you whole.

Sunday's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. His touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into his touch, craving more of the sensations he was evoking within you.

Sunday looked deeply into your eyes, apology written all over his features. But before he could speak, you silenced him with another passionate kiss. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your legs around his waist to anchor yourself to him.

"I've got you," he whispered against your lips, a promise that resonated with sincerity. His words soothed the fluttering butterflies in your stomach, filling you with a warmth that spread from your chest down to your very core.

His hands wandered lower, exploring the curves of your hips and the swell of your buttocks. Each stroke of his fingers against your skin made you gasp into his mouth, the sensation driving you further into madness.

Sunday broke away from the kiss only to trail a path of fiery kisses down your neck, his tongue laving at the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe.

With a soft growl, Sunday's hand dipped lower, slipping underneath your panties to tease the damp curls at the apex of your thighs. His fingers traced the outline of your slit, causing you to arch into his touch with a low whimper.

"You're so wet," he groaned against your ear, his voice thick with desire. His thumb grazed over your clit, circling the swollen nub with tantalizing slowness. The pleasure was almost unbearable, making your entire body tremble with anticipation.

Sunday continued to tease you mercilessly, his fingers dipping into your folds before pulling back again. Each time he touched you, he coaxed a gasp from your lips, your body writhing beneath him in search of more contact.

Feeling your pleas for more, Sunday obliged without hesitation. His fingers plunged deeper into your slick heat, curling upward to stroke the spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You like that?" he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without waiting for an answer, he increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had your hips bucking against his hand.

"Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't stop."

Sunday chuckled darkly, his grip tightening around your waist as he pinned you beneath him. His movements became rougher, more urgent, each thrust of his fingers designed to bring you to climax.

With a soft sigh, you leaned up, capturing Sunday's lips in another searing kiss. This time, however, it was you who initiated the contact, taking control of the situation. You tasted yourself on his lips, the combination of your combined arousal making your head spin.

Your hands roamed across his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You tugged at the fabric, eager to get to his skin. Breaking away from the kiss, you trailed your lips down his neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in your wake.

As you teased him mercilessly, you felt something large and warm cupping your face. Startled, you glanced up to see Sunday's wings enveloping you, creating a private sanctuary amidst the chaos of the room. The feathers were soft against your skin, providing a stark contrast to the hardness of his body pressed against yours.

With a sudden movement, Sunday lifted you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly to the nearby table. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he towered over you. His hands reached out, grasping the edges of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

He wasted no time in claiming your lips once again, his kiss demanding and possessive. His hands explored your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before pinching your nipples, coaxing a sharp cry from your throat.

As Sunday began to work the collar around your neck, you made a lewd face, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. The sight of you squirming beneath him only fueled his desire, making his member twitch with anticipation.

As Sunday worked the collar into place, you couldn't help but tease him, running your hands over his chest and abdomen, avoiding his aching erection. Your touch was maddening, driving him to the brink of insanity as you toyed with him.

"Please, just a little more," Sunday pleaded, his voice strained with desperation. His hands gripped your wrists, trying to guide them where he needed them most. But you held firm, continuing to deny him the relief he craved.

Finally, unable to take anymore, Sunday tried to assert his dominance. He pushed you down onto the table, his body covering yours as he pinned your arms above your head. His hips ground against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you.

"I'm going to make you cum," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your face.

Feeling your tug on his sensitive wings, Sunday let out a deep moan, pressing himself harder against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. His hips gyrated against yours, seeking friction while his member throbbed with need.

Sunday leaned down, planting a series of kisses along your neck. Each press of his lips sent shockwaves of delight through your body, making you writhe beneath him. His teeth grazed over your skin, marking you as his own.

The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to explode. And then, suddenly, it did. A loud cry escaped your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your inner walls clenching around nothing.

With a soft chuckle, Sunday allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure of your touch on his wings. The sensation was unlike anything else, adding a new layer of delight to their already intense encounter.

His hands moved between your legs, resuming their teasing of your clit. His fingers danced over the sensitive bud, coaxing another wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls and spurring him on.

Sunday's member throbbed with need, desperate for release. But he refused to give in just yet, determined to draw out every last bit of pleasure from this moment. His hips rocked against yours, grinding his length against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

Both of you moaned loudly, lost in the throes of lust. The sound of your combined pleasure was music to his ears, fueling his desire even further.

Feeling your teasing words, Sunday couldn't help but smirk. Despite his gruff exterior, he was indeed quite sensitive - especially when it came to you. He loved the way you called him 'cute birdy guy', finding it endearing rather than insulting.

But as much as he wanted to stay with you, he knew it wouldn't be easy. After all, he was a demon, born and bred to live a solitary life. But something about you made him want to defy his nature, to take responsibility for someone other than himself.

With a gentle caress, he traced his fingers along your cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes. "I do want to try," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "To be with you...as lovers."

Surprised by Sunday's declaration, you stared at him, your heart racing with a mix of emotions. Could it really be true?

Before you could respond, Sunday closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, conveying the depth of his feelings without needing words.

Breaking away, he looked at you intently, his eyes burning with a fire that mirrored the passion in your own soul. "I'll show you just how serious I am," he vowed, his voice low and husky with promise. "We'll explore every inch of each other, and you'll know beyond a doubt that I'm committed to this."

Sunday's eyes glowed with an intensity that matched the heat radiating from his body. He slid his hands down your sides, his fingertips grazing over the curves of your waist and hips before traveling lower still. His touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your earlobe as he whispered, "Let me taste you." Without waiting for your response, he dipped his head down, his tongue tracing a path along your collarbone before settling between your breasts.

His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking and nibbling on it with an eagerness that had you writhing beneath him. Every flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, building towards an inevitable climax.

Feeling Sunday's hand venture lower, you gasped as his fingers found your swollen clit. His touch was deft and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure to send ripples of pleasure through your entire being.

As he played with you, his thumb circled your clit in slow, tantalizing motions. The sensation was overwhelming, causing your body to arch up towards him in search of more contact. His fingers continued their ministrations, coaxing moans and whimpers from your lips as they grew louder and more frequent.

Sunday's member twitched in anticipation, throbbing with need. But for now, he focused solely on pleasuring you, wanting to ensure that you reached your peak first.

With a deep groan, Sunday positioned himself between your thighs, aligning his rigid member with your entrance. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of your warmth so close to him, before slowly pushing inside.

Your tightness enveloped him, gripping his shaft like a velvet vice. Sunday's eyes rolled back in his head as he savored the sensation, his pace slow and deliberate as he gave your body time to adjust to his size.

Once he was fully sheathed, he began to move, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in. The motion was deep and powerful, hitting spots within you that made your vision blur and your mind go blank.

Sunday set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with each stroke. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of effort.

Sunday's movements were a perfect blend of tenderness and ferocity, his strokes designed to elicit the most pleasure possible from your body. Each thrust hit deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge of blissful obliviation.

Despite his rough exterior, Sunday took care not to make things too messy. His hands steadied your hips, guiding them to meet his every thrust perfectly. His member slid in and out of you with ease, thanks to his skilled maneuverings.

Between thrusts, he would lean down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, silencing your loud moans with his own. His mouth traveled down your neck, planting hot kisses along the sensitive skin there. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you to let go and surrender yourself to the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Feeling your gaze fixed on him, Sunday pulled your collar aside, blocking your view of him. It was a strange gesture, but it only served to heighten your arousal further. The lack of visual stimulation pushed you even deeper into the throes of pleasure, leaving you utterly defenseless against the onslaught of sensations coursing through your body.

With your attention focused solely on him, Sunday increased his tempo, his thrusts becoming more erratic and forceful. He buried himself deeper within you, seeking out those hidden places that seemed to trigger the most intense reactions from your body.

Each stroke brought forth new waves of pleasure, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. Your breathing became ragged, your moans growing louder and less controlled. Sunday's own breathing echoed yours, punctuated by guttural growls of satisfaction as he felt your walls clench around his member.

The mounting pleasure finally became too much to bear, and you felt your climax approaching rapidly. As if sensing your impending release, Sunday's movements became even more urgent, his thrusts becoming shorter and more shallow as he sought to reach his own climax simultaneously.

With a few final, deep thrusts, Sunday felt his control slipping. A low growl escaped his throat as he came, his seed spilling into you in hot, pulsing jets. The feeling of him filling you up was overwhelming, triggering your orgasm instantly.

As your bodies trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, Sunday held you tightly against him, murmuring words of affection and praise. "You're my angel," he breathed, pressing soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I'll take care of you...always."

Feeling your weight shift atop him, Sunday allowed himself to be pushed down onto the ground. As you straddled him, he looked up at you with lust-filled eyes, his member still throbbing inside you.

The change in position allowed you to take control, and you wasted no time in starting to ride him. Your hips moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding down onto his length as you adjusted to his girth.

Sunday's hands found your hips, guiding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He assisted your movements, helping to set a steady pace that had both of you panting with desire.

Each downward movement of your hips elicited a low groan from Sunday, his pleasure evident in the way his eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted.

Feeling your movements become more erratic, Sunday knew that another climax was imminent. His hands tightened on your hips, urging you to continue riding him as he fought to maintain his composure.

He continued to murmur endearments, his voice a soothing lullaby that helped calm your racing thoughts. His kisses peppered your scalp, each press of his lips sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

But it was a losing battle. With a final, powerful thrust upward, Sunday succumbed to the pleasure, his body tensing beneath you as he came. His seed spilled into you once again, this time in a series of smaller pulses that seemed to go on forever.

Your inner walls clenched around his member, milking him for all he was worth. The intensity of your orgasm left you breathless and spent, collapsing onto his chest as you rode out the waves of pleasure.Sunday held you close, his hands gently stroking your back as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Waking up in the comfort of a familiar bed, you stretched lazily, the sheets sliding off your bare skin. You noticed immediately that you weren't sticky, and realized Sunday must have taken care of everything while you slept.

Glancing around, you spotted Sunday standing by the window, his silhouette outlined against the morning sunlight. You stood up, your muscles protesting softly at the sudden movement. You felt flustered but smiled nonetheless, drawn to the man who'd given you such pleasure the night before.

As you approached him, the cool air kissed your heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Hello," you said, your voice soft and husky from sleep.

Sunday nodded, his gaze drifting down to where your hand rested on his arm. "Hey," he replied quietly. After a brief pause, he continued, "I, uh, took care of everything while you slept. The room's cleaned up, and... well, I didn't want you to wake up to any mess."

You glanced around, noticing that everything was indeed spotless. The remnants of the previous night had been carefully tidied away, leaving no trace of the chaos that had ensued. It was clear that Sunday had gone to great lengths to ensure everything was in order.

"Thank you," you said, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to do all this."

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to help. After everything that happened, it seemed like the least I could do."

There was a brief, charged silence between you. Sunday's expression grew more serious as he hesitated, then gently took your hand in his. His touch was warm, yet there was a nervous energy to it.

"I'm... sorry," he began, his voice tinged with guilt. "About last night. I didn't mean for things to go that far. It was my responsibility to protect you, not... not let things happen like that."

You felt a pang of emotion at his words, recognizing the weight he placed on himself. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting hug. Sunday stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, leaning into the embrace.

"You don't have to apologize," you murmured against his shoulder. "We were both caught off guard. And... well, I don't regret it. But I understand if you're feeling conflicted."

His wings covered up his face.

"Hm? Don't get all shy on me....Also thank you for..taking care...I'm too lazy for bathing anyway.."

You turned to Sunday, resting your head on his chest, and decided to share more about your work.

"So," you began, your voice soft, "my research... it's about finding a way to control our enemies. Not in a harmful way, but to influence their actions, maybe even change their minds or make them more cooperative. It's about creating order, really."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows raising. He looked at you with a mixture of intrigue and concern. "Control your enemies?" he echoed, clearly processing the information. "That's... ambitious. And a bit scary, if I'm being honest."

You smiled, appreciating his honesty. "Yeah, Wait! Aren't you a follower of !!!!"

He chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "It's useless trick, After that incident I know even using that I could be fooled easily. In fact I'm not a know it all. But you don't have to overwork yourself on that...I think I can use it for you. " he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze as he hugged you closer.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "You don't have to-" you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. "Besides, I like you just the way you are."

Sunday's expression softened, and he looked at you with a deep affection. "I'm glad to hear that," he murmured. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words, before continuing. "You know, if you ever need someone to support you or help you figure things out, I'm here. And... if it's okay, I'd like to be with you. More than just friends, I mean."

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and hope in them. Without a word, you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"It's more than okay," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "I'd like that too."

Sunday's face lit up with a joyful smile, and he pulled you into a tender embrace. The two of you stayed like that, holding each other close, feeling the connection that had deepened between you. It was a moment of quiet understanding and mutual affection, a promise of what was to come.

you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms.

"It's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you," Sunday said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You reached out, touching his cheek gently. "I want us to fall in love together," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

He looked at you, surprise and hope mingling in his eyes. "Wait, are you really choosing me?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "I'll be with you forever. I won't leave you, even if I'm ordered to. Maybe... maybe for a new purpose, I'll make you happier than anyone else in the world."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his earnest declaration. "Haha, considering you just unconsciously removed my clothing, what? Want another round?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunday's face flushed a deep red, and he quickly ducked under the sheets, his wings wrapping around him as if to hide his embarrassment.

"Huh? Why are you hiding under the sheets?" you asked, amused by his sudden shyness.

"...Because I'm embarrassed," he mumbled from under the covers. "That was my first time. I'm sure I did something wrong..."

You couldn't help but smile, touched by his vulnerability. You gently patted his head, comforting him. "You were fine. I don't have any experience in that department either, so you did great!" you assured him, your voice full of encouragement.

He peeked out from under the sheets, looking a bit more reassured. "I can only hope... Tell me if there's anything I can do better. I'll work hard to improve," he said, his voice firm with determination.

You chuckled, finding his earnestness endearing. "You're so earnest," you said affectionately, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "And that's one of the things I like about you."

Sunday smiled, his wings slowly unfolding as he relaxed.

"It's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you," Sunday said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You reached out, touching his cheek gently. "I want us to fall in love together," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

He looked at you, surprise and hope mingling in his eyes. "Wait, are you really choosing me?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "I'll be with you forever. I won't leave you, even if I'm ordered to. Maybe… maybe for a new purpose, I'll make you happier than anyone else in the world."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his earnest declaration. "Haha, considering you just unconsciously removed my clothing, what? Want another round?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunday's face flushed a deep red, and he quickly ducked under the sheets, his wings wrapping around him as if to hide his embarrassment.

"Huh? Why are you hiding under the sheets?" you asked, amused by his sudden shyness.

"…Because I'm embarrassed," he mumbled from under the covers. "That was my first time. I'm sure I did something wrong…"

You couldn't help but smile, touched by his vulnerability. You gently patted his head, comforting him. "You were fine. I don't have any experience in that department either, so you did great!" you assured him, your voice full of encouragement.

He peeked out from under the sheets, looking a bit more reassured. "I can only hope… Tell me if there's anything I can do better. I'll work hard to improve," he said, his voice firm with determination.

You chuckled, finding his earnestness endearing. "You're so earnest," you said affectionately, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "And that's one of the things I like about you."

Sunday smiled, his wings slowly unfolding as he relaxed

You snuggled closer to him, feeling his warmth and the soft texture of his wings against your skin. The comfort of his presence, combined with the lingering sense of safety and peace, lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, the weight of the morning's emotions and the previous night's events pulling you towards sleep.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you drifted off. "For existing.."

Sunday gently wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Thank you too." he murmured back, his voice a soft promise.

With that reassurance, you let yourself sink into the comforting darkness of sleep. The last thing you felt was the steady rhythm of Sunday's heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was a peaceful, comforting sensation, and it carried you away into a restful slumber.

[oswildin]

What if Loki was in love with TVA!Reader? (HEADCANNONS)

Firstly, he would most definitely follow you round like a puppy, just wanting to talk your ear off about anything and everything

Meaning, he would accompany you even to the archives, where you could spend hours doing research

Eventually, of course, he would get bored, to which you would tell him ‘make yourself useful and grab me a coffee’ to which he would pretend to hate the fact you’d just bossed him about

But he would do it anyway

He’d also fall asleep on your stacks of files, making your life harder, but you didn’t entirely mind. A quiet, relaxed Loki was a rarity

He’d want to accompany you on missions, secretly not liking the fact you could be in danger, always brushing it off with his typical cockiness - ‘why wouldn’t I come? If anyone can catch the variant it’s me’

Loki would be glued to your side during these outings, always on high alert for any danger

Loki also has a habit of trying to distract you in anyway he can

Sometimes it’s throwing scrunched up balls of paper across the desk at you, moving things around on your desk to catch you out, or even simply trying to challenge you to some sort of game/bet

When he’d cracked a case, he would rush to find you, grinning ear to ear, waiting to hear your praise and ‘well done’

Involving you in his tricks and pranks on Mobius. It’s his apart of his love language after all

Soft gazes and longing glances across the room when you’re doing something mundane

Loving the way your brows crease when you’re concentrating, or how you slightly pout when you find out some worrying information

Deliberate brushing of shoulders, fingers and straightening your uniform (tie, jacket lapels, whatever he could)

He’d eat lunch with you, even though he thinks the TVA food is awful, just to spend more time with you

Mobius would 100% tease him about his ‘little crush’

Loki would also do things to elicit a reaction from you. Usually an exasperated reaction. But he couldn’t help it, he loved getting on your nerves and having you stand up to him

But if anyone else tried to stand up to him, he would definitely want to stab them - minus Mobius

You’d act like an old married couple

[son-n-heir-of-nothing]

"Do you even know how many people I've seen fall absolutely head over heels for you? " Mobius said in a light and joking manner, "Just once I'd like to see you like that. " he laughed. An amusing idea, Loki the god of mischief, finding himself dumbstruck and lovesick over someone. He took a sip out of his coffee cup.

Loki hummed in amusement and smiled to himself, "it wouldn't take much. " he said looking over at Mobius. His eyes lingered on the way Mobius' eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the way his laugh sounded- he could just get drunk off of it.

Something stirred in his chest as he assessed the analyst in depth along with a sense of overwhelming fondness for the man. Mobius looked up from his cup, meeting eyes Mobius shoots Loki a smile.

"No, not much at all. " Loki thought to himself.

[virgil-upinthestars]

like a little prayer - chapter one

Pairing: Loki x Mobius, Deadpool x Wolverine

Words: 2,585

Summary: Mobius and Sylvie pull some strings to contact some of the only people who might be able to get to Loki, proposing a plan that could help them all.

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, somewhat insincere threats of violence, light shenanigans, angst, pining, gay bickering

header/ch 1

---

Into the sparkly sling ring portal, out onto a squeaky black marble floor. Wade’s forehead collided with it, which was less than courteous, and he made a mental note to ask Cassandra what the fuck if they ever met again, but he dearly hoped that would never happen. 

“Ugh, rude!” he groaned, getting his knees under him and grabbing Logan’s quite muscular arm to pull himself up. Logan promptly shoved him into what felt like a desk. 

“Hello,” said a dry, faintly raspy voice. “If you two could sit down and not knock over your drinks, that would be nice.”

Wade grabbed a chair, steadying himself and squinting at a frankly dumpy-looking middle-aged man in a brown suit. “’Scuse me?”

“We’re back,” Logan muttered, his eyes darting around the ceiling beyond the cubicle, and yep, that orange lighting was unmistakable. “She sent us back here. Why’d she do that?”

“Well, I’d assume it’s because you can go anywhere from here, but I’d like to hope it was because I asked nicely,” the man mused, sitting on the other side of the desk and pushing two paper coffee cups towards them. As per usual whenever someone else bought him coffee, Wade popped the top off to check the contents. Once he saw the whipped cream and sprinkles, he gave the drink an approving nod and lifted his mask to down half the contents.

Logan didn't touch his, as he apparently found much more joy in glaring at the man who had so graciously offered them caffeine after a fight. “Nicely?”

“Mm, yes,” The man took a sip of his own coffee, those eyes flicking between the two of them. “The TVA’s had a deal with Cassandra Nova, ever since a few of our operatives ended up in the Void. I’d be the first to admit that a large majority of the Void’s inhabitants probably don't deserve to be there, but unfortunately, that doesn't apply to everyone.” 

“Yeah, Nicepool definitely deserves to be down there," Wade snorted, wiping whipped cream off his face. "Not Mary Puppins, though, can we go get her?”

The man opened one of the orange files on his desk, and turned it around so they could see its contents. “Pyro. Decent kid, but he's taken a deal with your department head, Paradox, to kill Nova. Which I imagine went over fantastically.”

“Yeah,” Wade sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Remind me what this has to do with saving my universe?” Just to be nice, totally not because he felt guilty, he jabbed a thumb towards Logan. “Or fixing his?”

“Well, I've been watching the two of you for a bit, and . . . .” The man folded his fingers on the table. “I think you can help me.”

Immediately, Logan’s eye twitched. “Why should we?”

A smile just flickered on the other man’s face, and he looked up from Pyro’s file. Something about those eyes gave Wade pause, even though they were set in the face of what looked like a middle-aged dad. 

“Okay,” Wade sighed, and he decided that this guy looked like his name would probably be Phil. Or Kyle. Ooh, or John, or — “Owen. We’re on a bit of a mission right now, and unless you’re willing to help me save my universe from that Tom Wambsgans-looking guy — don’t get me wrong, I loved Succession, it was like watching a house full of sex offenders burn down, but —”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the man said, closing Pyro's file and brushing it to the side. There was a hard light in his eyes, one that Wade recognized: desperation. “Yes, Paradox wants to destroy your timeline, but from what I'm guessing, Nova would be perfectly happy destroying all of them.”

“You people like your guesses,” Logan grumbled.

Wade sighed. “For the last time, peanut, it was an educated wish —”

“Call me that again, and I'll shove that double-whip diabetes bomb right up your —”

“Okay,” the man said loudly, now looking very much like a middle-aged dad. Possibly also a jet ski salesman. “I’ll just cut to the chase. Also, your coffee has Irish whiskey in it, so please do me a favor and drink it.”

“Really?” Logan muttered, lifting the drink. He took a hesitant sip, but it soon turned into chugging the whole drink in one go.

“Thank you,” the man sighed, then cleared his throat. “You two have been dealing with middle management this whole time.” His eyes flickered with a new sort of light, something like hope. “How would you like to go all the way to the top?”

---

Mobius M. Mobius had been having a very rough few months. First, he finally manages to catch a Loki, then fucks up by getting attached to him, then gets betrayed by him, which, honestly, what was he expecting — only for that Loki to come back, wide eyed and pleading with him. Then Sylvie went and committed some good old-fashioned murder, and the multiverse started falling apart, tearing Loki into pieces across space and time as he desperately tries to help, and eventually decides that the best way to solve it was apparently to go fuck himself off into oblivion without discussing it with any of them.  

Mobius could’ve killed him.

He also would've given anything to see him again.

He also didn't know whether Loki would feel the same, ‘I did it for you’ or not.

He also was about two inches away from ripping his own ears off so he didn't have to hear these two assholes keep going at each other in some kind of weird, extremely violent, seventy-two hour long foreplay. 

“So, it's a tree,” said Wade Wilson, holding his empty coffee cup like a drag queen as Mobius led them down the hall. Logan was trailing behind, silent for now, but still looking like he was debating whether to slam Wade against or through the nearest wall. “You fancy-pants time CIA bastards take orders from a tree?”

Mobius took a long breath. He could almost hear Loki snapping back that we used to take orders from three lizards who turned out to be robots, how’s the tree sound now?

It was making his heart ache.

“We don't take orders from the tree,” Mobius said, forcing himself to maintain an easy tone. “We protect it. It contains all timelines, all possibilities, branching out into infinity. We can't control it, it can't control us, we can only protect h—it. And if the tree were threatened, the fabric of space-time would start to unravel.”

“Oh, so that’s why you're open to stopping Tom Wambsgans from destroying my universe!” Wade laughed. “Finally, there's a threat big enough to the precious tree for you to acknowledge the fact that my whole life —”

“I didn't know about your timeline, okay?” Mobius sighed, shoving open a door marked NO ENTRY. He led them down a curving stairwell, to where Sylvie had agreed to meet him. “No one knew, until five minutes ago, when unsanctioned time-ripper activity was detected in your universe. B-15’s running through the normal channels to shut it down, but until then, I'm trying to arrange something that will help both of us.”

“Oh, both?” Wade said, tossing his empty cup into the abyss. He promptly sat on the railing and began to slide down it. “Do tell.”

“Yes,” Mobius said, gritting his teeth. The line between his thoughts and his words were quickly becoming blurred. “I get you to the guy at the top, you get him to sustain your world while we deal with Paradox, and then you get him to come the fuck out of his little self-imposed isolation hermit hole.”

Precious silence hung for a few seconds, only to be punctuated by a soft “ooh”.

“So,” Wade slid to Mobius’s side, somehow balancing like a goddamn French girl on the railing. “This guy at the top, huh? You two have a history?”

Mobius glanced back at Logan, who just snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who gave him coffee.”

“Couple of hand brushes?” Wade was saying, his voice needling into Mobius’s ear. “Lingering hugs? Old married couple banter? Maybe even a soft, gentle, unforgettable night on an office couch —”

“Like you two didn’t basically hate-fuck in that Odyssey!” Mobius snapped, making the white eyes of Wade’s mask go wide.

“Pervert,” he said at last. “That was a very private moment.”

“I will throw you down this stairwell,” Logan hissed, an honest-to-God vein popping out on his forehead. “Say another word, I fucking dare you — ”

“Fergalicious,”

Logan swung a fist towards Wade. Mobius barely had time to think the claws aren’t out, that’s an improvement before the Wolverine’s blow was stopped by a swirl of green light.

“Oh, my!” called a familiar voice. Mobius leaned over and caught sight of Sylvie on the landing below, her eyes fragile with a hopeless sort of amusement, like a man set for execution laughing because he had sixty-nine days to live. “This is them?”

“I’m afraid so,” Mobius called back, unable to hide the relief in his voice that he was now one step closer to getting these repressed disasters out of his sight. “Do you have it?”

“Of course I do,” she snorted, flicking He Who Remains’ TemPad out of her jacket pocket as she climbed the stairs towards them. “I held my end of the bargain. The real question is if they’ll hold theirs.” Her lips twitched slightly as Logan yelled for her to get your fucking magic off me, and directed his arm back to his side before releasing control. Her eyes flickered as she met Mobius’s gaze. “You really think this will work?”

“I hope so,” Mobius replied, forcing a smile to compensate for the slight shake in his voice. “I really hope so.”

“Right,” Sylvie muttered, turning the TemPad over in her hands as she surveyed the two men. “Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett. Gifted with extraordinary healing powers.”

Wade slid off the railing. “Among other things,”

“Good.” Sylvie’s eyes flashed. “We’ll be testing them today.”

“Hold on,” said Logan, the first time he’d really spoken without provocation. He shouldered his way past Wade to scowl at Mobius and Sylvie with equal force. “Whatever this is, I’m not doing it for free.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Mobius sighed, frantically running through a meager list of things the Wolverine might be willing to risk his life for. An overaged bottle of Jack Daniels probably wouldn’t count. Neither would another Irish coffee. Maybe —

“X-23,” Logan said, his voice brusque. “Laura. She’s in the Void. Get her out.”

Mobius blinked.

“Oh my God,” Wade whispered. “I knew the dad instinct was in there somewhere.”

“Shut up,” Logan snapped, before refocusing on them. “Get her out of there and I’ll do it.”

“Uh, sure,” Mobius glanced towards Sylvie, who gave an easy shrug. “Where, uh . . . do you want us to bring her here, or —”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s throat bobbed. “Take her to this idiot’s world if you want, just don’t take her to mine.”

“His is in danger, though —”

The man’s eyes hardened. “Well, it won’t be.”

For a moment, Wade was actually speechless. The Merc with a Mouth was staring at Logan like he’d just dropped out of the sky, white eyes of his mask wide and hands hanging listlessly in the air. 

“You got it,” Mobius said, pulling his TemPad out of his pocket. Ever since he’d come out of the Void himself, he’d tried to keep a closer eye on anyone who might be surviving down there. He hadn’t even been sure that X-23 was still alive until he’d caught word of her with these two, and now that she’d raided Nova’s place with her friends, they’d all be easy to find. “Sylvie, you wanna give them the speech?”

“Love to.” Sylvie held up the black and gold disc, shocking Wade out of his trance with a shiny thing. “This is a TemPad. With it, I’ll be sending the two of you straight to the trunk of the tree itself, where hopefully, you’ll be able to withstand the Gods-awful amount of temporal radiation long enough to get the attention of the annoying prick at the center. Sound good?”

“Ooh, temporal radiation!” Wade let out a whistle. “I’ve never experienced that one before. What does it do?”

Sylvie’s lip twitched, but there was no humor in her eyes. “Turn you into skin spaghetti.”

“Oh.”

“The levels around the tree would be very lethal to me or Mobius, but we’ve been hoping for a while that you two would be able to complete the job for us.” She twirled the disc in her fingers, and at a sharp look from Mobius, she rolled her eyes and continued. “And we’ll be sending this with you, for your way back.”

“Really?” Wade brightened, holding out a hand. “Yes, please — ”

“Not you.” Sylvie pointed at Logan. “You. You actually seem like the responsible type.”

“Oh, we are truly in catastrophic times,” Wade groaned, leaning back against the railing. “So, about this ‘annoying prick at the center’ —”

Mobius’s TemPad began to buzz. He flicked the notification away from the approximated map of the Void he’d been building, but then there was another alert, and then another, and the thing was nearly buzzing out of his hands. Over it all, highest priority, was a message from B-15.

If you don’t reappear sometime in the next thirty seconds, the whole multiverse is fucked.

Mobius’s heart shot into his throat as he scrolled through the hundreds of alerts, then dropped right down into his stomach.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“Mobius?” Tense worry spiked in Sylvie’s voice, nearly shocking him out of his haze. “Mobius, what’s happened —”

“It’s Cassandra Nova,” he choked out, fumbling up the stairs. “She’s — she’s heading for the Time-Ripper.” His heart pounded in his ears. “She’s — she’s going to —”

She’s going to kill him.

Sylvie hissed something in an old Asgardian tongue, flicking her TemPad and opening a door in front of him. “Get to the war room, I’ll make sure these idiots make it to the tree.”

“Just —” Mobius turned back to Wade and Logan, two men in bright primary-colored suits standing in a TVA stairwell, two men who were as likely to try and kill each other as they were to fuck, two men who were each certified mental disasters but as it stood, his only chance of ever seeing Loki again. 

He’d been watching them for more than a while. He’d gone looking for variants who could withstand the tree’s temporal radiation the second he’d gotten back to the TVA, since Sylvie had told him she could pinpoint the tree’s location, but he hadn’t been able to convince any to help him until now. Here were two men, just as desperate as he was, two men who were now looking back at him with that mirrored, last-ditch determination.

Because fuck it — if this didn’t work, nothing would. 

Mobius swallowed, managing to say, “Just — tell him I miss him, would you?”

If he’s even still alive when you reach him. If any of us are still alive.

Wade nodded. “You got it, Lightning McQueen.”

His lips twitched. “Mobius.”

“Oh!” The white eyes of his mask widened. “You’re Mobius! Which means the guy in the tree has to be —”

Mobius didn’t even care how Wade knew, he didn’t want to hear that name said out loud. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it. Instead, he turned and bolted up the stairs. 

Towards the one thing he could do.

header/ch 1

more here on ao3

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

Lokius Fic Recs

Multi-chapter edition

And now sharing a few of my favorite multi-chapter Lokius fics! See my less than 10K season one Lokius fic recs here. Less than 10K season two fic recs here.

Loki & Mobius Reunite Post Season 2

The Storyteller Saga by kcscribbler- Loki and Mobius find their way back to each other after the events of season 2. If worldbuilding is your jam- this is the series for you! (154,464 words)

Between Comfort and Chaos by em13x- Loki and Mobius find their way back to each other after the events of season 2. (22,007 words)

Loki & Mobius Reunite Post Season 1

On a Wing and a Prayer by Lydiagwilt- Post season 1, Mobius is imprisoned by a sinister alternate TVA and prays to Loki for help. Loki hears him and begins a daring rescue attempt. A great mix of action and character drama. (33,842 words)

Following On a Wing and a Prayer, read Variation on a Theme. Director Mobius is struggling to rebuild the authoritarian TVA, especially with a megalomaniac Kang on the loose and the multiverse seeming to unravel at the seams. President Loki is back from the Void and ready to help… but can he be trusted? A beautiful Lokius adjacent story about trust and healing with plenty of mystery and worldbuilding. And Mobius variants my beloveds!) (40,060 words and counting)

never known how it broke me down by RunnyYolk - 5+1 times Loki hugs Mobius. Following a multiversal war, Loki and Mobius find their way back to one another and work to rebuild the TVA (hugs and romantic confessions ensue). (51,152 words)

Loki Series Season One Divergent

where the edge began by RunnyYolk - Canon divergent from season 1, episode 3. Loki follows Sylvie through the time door but it doesn’t result in the Roxxcart Divorce. The depth of the TVA's lies are unraveled from the inside instead as Loki and Mobius stumble their way into a real trusting partnership...and more. (189,207 words)

Heartbreak anthem by ylc- Canon divergent slightly from season one, episode 3. What if Loki and Mobius had been sleeping together before Roxxcart? Making the Roxxcart Divorce all the angstier? (With a hopeful ending). (25,051 words)

For the longest time by Mirilya - a Lokius Hanahaki fic. If you’re looking for some whumpy, angsty, unrequited and then requited love, this is the fic for you. Starring a helplessly in love Mobius. (30,032 words)

With You Through The Storms by DewdropReader - a post Thor 1 + Human AU. Mobius finds a scared cat in the middle of a rainstorm and takes him home to keep him safe. The cat sticks around and he and Mobius become close friends. One day Mobius comes home to find his cat has transformed into a person who claims to be Loki, God of Mischief. An oh-so-soft domestic everyone needs a hug/gets a hug Lokius love story. (62,081 words and counting)

Got your world in my hand by Mirilya - Post season one (or any season tbh) Mobius and Loki are living happily at the TVA. Now, it’s time for Mobius to visit Asgard. Sweeping romantic declarations ensue! (10,465 words)

Human AUs

What Makes A Good Man by chamel - CIA AU. Mobius just wants to bring down the notorious and prolific art thief he's been studying for years. He certainly doesn't expect said thief to be so handsome, or charming, or... helpful? (98,634 words)

Fit the Profile by WaterHorseyBlues- Detective AU. Loki and Private Detective Mobius work together to unravel a mystery after Loki is unexpectedly taken hostage one night. What at first seems like unmotivated violence turns into something much bigger than either Loki or Mobius could have expected. Could the answer lie in Loki's past? Or is something far more sinister going on? (77,786 words)

falling in love at a coffeeshop by thumbbird- Coffee shop AU. Talent Acquisition Director Mobius M Mobius has been going to Odinson’s coffeeshop for years. When he finds out his favorite barista Loki has left Odinson’s, he switches shops and romance ensues! (93,239 words)

On My Reading List

And here are two fics that I haven’t read yet but come highly recommended.

i bet on losing dogs by thumbbird

A Warning From The Gods (To Stay Away) by StompedKirbs

Again, I feel like these fics represent only a sliver of the brilliance that exists in this fandom. You can find more fic recs here.

Happy reading!

[ilaytrapsfortroubadours]

😴sleepy hug / falling asleep together for Lokius !

(I have no idea where in the series this takes place, just don't worry about it 🥲💕)

***

Loki and Mobius unceremoniously strolled back to their quarters, nary exchanging a word or even a glance.

They approached the elevator, Mobius hitting the button and waiting by Loki's side, hearing the subtle tick, tick, tick of the elevator approaching their floor.

It wasn't until after they entered the elevator that Loki shot Mobius a glance, to which the analyst returned the glance with a tired smile.

"We did good today," Loki said, trying to get Mobius to catch his eye.

"Yeah," Mobius said, eyes fixed to the floor.

"We did all we could've done."

"I could've done better."

"Mobius—"

"Just—" Mobius turned to Loki, about to snap at him, before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "—Don't. Please. Don't try to comfort me. I—" He sighed, exasperated. "I fucked up, okay? I almost got one of our guys killed, not to mention losing the variant without a trace."

"It wasn't your fault that the expulsion method backfired," Loki said, resting a hand on Mobius's shoulder. "I mean, who the hell could've known that this variant was immune to fire?"

"I could've known. I should've known."

"Mobius—"

"I should've checked his file, this is all my fault—"

"The responsibility of vetting our targets wasn't entirely on you. We had dozens of other agents that glossed over that. It was—" Loki paused, gathering his thoughts. "...An institutional failure, alright? And besides, beforehand, we were caught up in that surprise meeting with Renslayer, so you wouldn't have had time to check, anyway."

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. Mobius exited first, Loki following close behind him as they walked back to the agent's quarters.

"It wasn't your fault, okay?" Loki said, as Mobius fumbled with the keycard to his front door.

The agent nodded, staring into the door blankly for a moment before scanning the card and leading Loki in.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?" Mobius said, shrugging off his jacket.

"I just need to sleep, I think," Loki said, slipping off his shoes and tie, watching Mobius as he did so. "Are you okay?"

"I'm— I'm fine. Just need to sleep, like you said." Mobius replied, struggling to keep the tremble out of his hands as he filled a glass with water.

Loki didn't believe Mobius's answer for a second, but decided not to pry.

"I'm going to go take a shower," He said.

"Okay," Mobius replied, absentmindedly.

...

Loki emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his curls when he saw Mobius. He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, struggling to stifle his sobs.

Loki's heart sank. His first instinct was to rush over and comfort his friend, though he knew that the second Mobius knew Loki saw him, he would clear his throat and act like everything was fine.

Instead, he set the towel down on the floor and walked over to Mobius slowly, hoping that the agent didn't hear him, as that would immediately make Mobius panic and shut down.

Mobius only lifted his head as he felt the couch beside him dip, looking up to see Loki looking at him with a concerned expression.

Damn it.

"Loki, I—"

"Mobius. Don't lie to me. Please."

Mobius was left with his lips slightly parted, mid-dismissal. Loki stared into his eyes, his gaze sharp and determined, almost frightening. Love is a dagger.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please," Loki pleaded.

The agent sighed, resigned.

"I just...I can't shake the feeling that it's all always my fault, you know?" Mobius said, his eyes flickering back down to the floor. "I feel like no matter what I do, it's never gonna be enough, and I just— end up being a failure. Putting everyone at risk. Not accomplishing the one task I was set out to do."

He sighed, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"It makes me think I'm the problem. And I feel like I didn't used to be. I used to be good at this. I used to be sharp, and clever, with an impeccable track record. And now, I just can't stop...messing everything up."

Mobius felt his eyes well up with tears again, to his dismay.

"...I feel like all I ever do is let people down."

It was like a knife to his chest, Loki hearing that from Mobius, who was, in his eyes, the most clever man he'd ever known.

"Mobius. Look at me," Loki said, taking the agent's hands in his. "You are not letting anyone down, and you are not a failure. You're the smartest man in this entire godforsaken place. And I mean that."

Mobius smiled minutely, still struggling to keep Loki's gaze.

"I appreciate it, Lokes. I'm just..." Mobius sighed deeply, his shoulders drooping. "Tired. I'm so tired, Loki."

The agent couldn't keep the tears in his eyes from falling at that. Loki gently placed his hand on Mobius's cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I know, my dear. But we're here. We're okay. Everyone is okay."

Mobius nodded, his head falling forward in exhaustion.

"Let's get you to bed," Loki said.

...

Loki pulled the covers up over Mobius's shoulders. The god bit his lip, hesitant to leave, but he turned to do so anyway.

"Wait," Mobius murmured.

Loki's heart leapt. He turned back.

"Would you— Would you wanna stay for a bit, maybe?"

Loki smiled. "Sure."

Mobius returned his grin and sat up, patting the spot next to him.

Loki crawled in next to him, feeling uncharacteristically giddy, albeit a bit nervous as well, his heart beating a bit too quickly.

He turned to Mobius, both of them sharing a bit of laughter over the absurdity of the situation.

Loki couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed with someone, and was unsure if Mobius ever had.

"Sorry if I'm not the best company, I'm pretty exhausted," Mobius said.

"It's no trouble. I'm quite tired, myself," Loki replied.

"Well. Guess we best get some rest, huh?"

"Agreed."

Mobius turned and switched off the lamp beside him, laying down and positioning himself so he was facing Loki.

"You know, you've been fussing over me all night, I feel obligated to ask—" Mobius said, his tone playful, albeit sincere. "How are you? You good?"

Loki felt the urge to respond as usual, with his typical "Oh, I'm fine," but Mobius had been so honest and vulnerable with him. It was only fair that he did the same, despite his instinctual reluctance.

"I'm, well—" Loki stuttered, "I've been— in an odd place, I suppose?"

"Yeah? How so?" Mobius asked.

"Well, when you found out your tormentor was at fault for your gory and untimely death, it makes one reexamine a lot about themselves," Loki said, trying to keep his tone light and joking, failing to hold back a nervous stutter at the end of his sentence.

"I can imagine," Mobius responded, concerned. "I feel a need to apologize for— well, the whole interrogation deal."

"Oh, please, Mobius, no apology needed," Loki said, dismissive. "You were just doing your job. And I'm fine."

"Are you?" Mobius said, returning the same sharp and prodding gaze Loki had given him earlier.

"...Maybe not," Loki murmured.

"That's okay," Mobius said. "You don't have to be. We can be 'not okay' together. How's that sound?"

Loki nodded, lest the tears in his eyes escape if he uttered a word.

"Hey," Mobius whispered, taking Loki's chilled hand. "It's like you said to me. We're alright. We're safe."

Loki nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of memories and emotions flooding his mind.

"Do you, would it help if I—" Mobius stuttered.

Loki looked up at him, inquisitive despite his distress.

Mobius lifted his other arm minutely, indicating his offer.

Loki nodded, moving to wrap his arms around the agent, his head tucked perfectly underneath Mobius's chin. He breathed in deeply, trying to replace the images in his mind with the agent's comforting scent.

Mobius smiled as he felt a sense of love and adoration flood through him, warm and syrupy sweet like honey. He wrapped his arms securely around the god.

"Thank you," Loki muttered, exhausted.

"Thank you," Mobius replied. "We're in this together, alright?"

Loki nodded, finding one of Mobius's hands and lacing his fingers with the agent's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We are."

Mobius returned the affirmation, squeezing Loki's hand as he let his eyes fall closed.

"Sorry if I get your pillowcase wet," Loki said, indicating his still-wet hair.

Mobius chuckled. "Small price to pay."

[deconstructivesurgery]

We back out the trenches with this one folks: Someone sent me the "fallout companions' alcohol tolerances" post and I immediately decided I had to make one about the Think Tank in turn. So, here we bloody go:

Dr. Mobius: 9/10. Mobius could tank a solid 3/4ths of a bottle of vodka, perch himself in front of a chalkboard for a few hours straight swaying back and forth slowly and still wind up inventing a new formula for rocket fuel. He is unbothered. Unphased. In his element. Years of horkin' down Mentats like they were going out have style have numbed his entire nervous system to the influence of lesser chems like booze. He's got the Logan's Loophole perk equipped somehow.

Dr. Klein: 8/10 Listen he's got wine bottles and a full bar in his home I bet this man is a frequent flier- but that doesn't spare him from getting like miserably drunk off a bottle of wine and lying in his bathtub scrubs and all contemplating his seething hatred for his many neurotic coworkers. Not only is Klein a mean drunk, but he's a miserable one, too. He'll crab and bitch at anyone that dares to encroach upon him whilst smashed, and all at top fucking volume too. Thankfully, I feel like he stays cloistered in his office or in his Higgs home on the days he spends day-drinking.

Dr. Dala: 4/10 Listen, she's decent- mildly less so than 8, but not bad either- not like 0. I feel like she gets incredibly talkative when she drinks and enjoys telling stories or recounting her latest research- you just get hit with like a laser-beam of oddly loving recountments of the latest liver she's pried out of a war criminal or other some such information. Don't put her and Klein in the same room if both are drunk, she's such a generally personable drunk that his attitude alone would sour her night.

Dr. 0: 2/10 I CANNOT see him having any decent tolerance towards booze at all I'm gonna be so real with you I think he'd down a few espresso martinis in an attempt to combine the coffee he likely chugs 24/7 with alcohol and then spend the rest of the night vaguely weepy, incoherent, fumbling around and generally white girl wasted. He'd somehow end up IN Dr. Borous' backyard in Higgs in an attempt to weep openly into Gabe's fur and wind up with like 3 dog bites because of it.

Dr. Borous: -1/10 Listen how much alcohol he's CAPABLE of tolerating is irrelevant, if you offer this man a drink not only will he turn you down but he'll go on a verbal tirade about how he never tolerates the evils of alcohol because one time in American High RICHIE MARCUS dared to invite nearly EVERYONE in his class to an ALCOHOL party except for him and now he refuses it out of sheer PRINCIPLE. Bonus points if he somehow, some way brings Communism into it.

Dr. 8: 5/10 I feel like he just has the most normal man alcohol threshold known to man. I also hate to say it but I FEEL like he'd be a horny drunk. I'm sorry. I don't like that fact any more than you do but my brain contemplated it and so I must share.

[daisybell17]

Lokius hc’s:

Loki would listen to Mobius talk about jet ski’s for hours, just sitting across him while Mobius whipped out like 10 magazine’s and ranked his favourite ones

One night they were both working way too late, Loki had fallen asleep. No breaks were allowed in the TVA, so Mobius placed a blanket over Loki and finished all their work. Loki repaid him by conjuring a custom jacket for him

They always argued over which was better: Coffee or Tea. Loki was a tea guy, Mobius was a coffee guy. It’s been ages and neither of them can agree, although secretly they have been trying each other drinks out…slowly realising why the other likes it so much

Mobius only learned more about Loki’s bisexuality once they met in the TVA, he was fascinated with his story. He was the only one that made him feel safe and seen.

Loki always plays silly little pranks on Mobius, some days Mobius can see it coming but still plays along

Loki sometimes cooks for Mobius if he’s not so busy, at first Mobius was hesitant but now he can’t stop eating Loki’s cooking

Mobius comforts Loki when he gets nightmares at times, he’s always holds him close and reminds him he’s loved.

Loki does the same thing for Mobius when he overthinks about his purpose in the TVA

Loki thinks he’s hard to love, while Mobius thinks loving Loki is like breathing, so easy, so simple, just pure adoration and love for him

Mobius got hurt on a mission once and this sent Loki into a rage, he watched every step Mobius took for days and was extremely possessive of him

Mobius used to tease Loki about him and Sylvie, which he only did as a deflection of his own jealousy

Loki loves Mobius so much…he’s always afraid of loosing him, he constantly keeps him close, he’s the only person whose loved him this much in his entire life…Mobius always reassures him that everything will be ok, and that they’re going to be alright

——————————————————————————

(a/n): very short and simple Lokius hc’s! honestly i just wanted to get some cute little hc before tomorrow’s episode! excited for ep 3 woo!!

[pendragonsclotpole]

“Yes,” Mobius said, gritting his teeth. The line between his thoughts and his words were quickly becoming blurred. “I get you to the guy at the top, you get him to sustain your world while we deal with Paradox, and then you get him to come the fuck out of his little self-imposed isolation hermit hole.”

Precious silence hung for a few seconds, only to be punctuated by a soft “ooh.”

“So,” Wade slid to Mobius’s side, somehow balancing like a goddamn French girl on the railing. “This guy at the top, huh? You two have a history?”

Mobius glanced back at Logan, who just snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who gave him coffee.”

“Couple of hand brushes?” Wade was saying, his voice needling into Mobius’s ear. “Lingering hugs? Old married couple banter? Maybe even a soft, gentle, unforgettable night on an office couch —”

“Like you two didn’t basically hate-fuck in that Odyssey!” Mobius snapped, making the white eyes of Wade’s mask go wide.

Loving all the new fanfics being spawned by Deadpool & Wolverine, but especially this one, which gives me Lokius and Deadpool/Wolverine in one cute, amazing soon to be finished (I hope!) five-shot.

[one-half-guy]

A bunch of headcanons of Sonic characters regarding cooking, eating habits and etc because I felt like that.

Knuckles' sense of smell is so keen that he can tell you what seasonings you used in the food.

And he learned the smell of every seasoning Amy ever used, that because he frequently helps Amy to cook.

Sonic will eat ANYTHING you offer to him, of course if you give him the right of choice he will straight up say "chilidogs", but if you throw a suggestion of any different dish he'll be the first one to agree.

Tails is far the kid with the worst eating habits among Sonic's friends, he inherited his bro's habit of eating junk food only while: Vector is always making the possible to Charmy follow a healthy diet; Cream was from a toddler encouraged into the most healthy vegetarian diet in the world; and Blaze works hard along the Coconut Crew to correct Marine's eating habits.

Cream's eating habits are so exemplary that Amy sometimes asks advices to diets without even ask Vanilla first, it because most surely mother and daughter will say the same thing.

Eventually Cream will start a full vegan diet, she stays as vegetarian mainly because of ice cream.

Espio will sometimes tries to annoy Amy showing off recipes of books he speedread in the previous day... Although everyone will always agree the pink hedgehog cooks and bakes a way better.

Vector asks G-merl of cooking lessons to try impress Vanilla, he doesn't asks Espio because the chameleon would mock him forever, he also doesn't ask to Amy because he fears she would accidentally reveal.

Shadow mostly prefers to make his food himself because he doesn't like of the way everyone else does and wants to avoid stress... Rouge would complain if he didn't do the dishes.

In a Dadow scenario, Shadow puts a lot of effort in search about healthy diets to make food to Silver and any other child he adopted, he wants his non-alien hybrid kids have the best healthy eating habits possible.

Silver can eat anything, no matter how gross it is, he can eat! Insects? He can! Flowers? Why not? Wood chips? Yep! Dog food? Don't doubt! Onyx City blandest "nutritive" bars? You can bet! Even a Silver who grew up in a decent world retains this ability and is not afraid of return to those methods of survival if needed and Shadow is hating it.

Buuuuut, Silver is always willing to get better in cooking and Shadow's strict methods won't scary him out because he will put as much effort as Shadow in make the most delicious food possible for his friends.

Gold loves coffee and she loves it more when it's sugary, the more sugar is better for her.

Eclipse never tried anything but the Black Arms' fruits, so he gets surprised in learn Mobius' fruits can match their taste.

In the end he's an alien addicted in apples, he's also impressed in how a full sized apple can sprout even in bonsai sometimes, it makes him love this fruit more.

[cookies-and-music]

Ghost. I suggest listening to Creep by Rediohead (or Kelly Clarkson's cover)

PAIRING: TVA!LokixOC

RATING: ALL

SUMMARY: Loki meets sombody at the TVA he once knew. Unfortunately she doesn't seem to remember him.

Part 2 here

When he saw her one day, wandering through the shelves of the TVA library, he thought she was a ghost. Loki would have sworn it was her but not exactly her. There was something different; her hair, for example, was brown, not red, and she was much more smiling than he remembered. Loki initially had doubts about whether it was her, but then he spent days observing her—watching how she furrowed her brows when concentrating on reading a file, how she leaned against the railing to gaze at the city suspended in time, how she always chose apple pie in the cafeteria. Every day was a stab to his heart until he decided to approach her.

"Miss Princhett," Loki approached the cafeteria table carrying a cup of tea for himself and a cup of coffee. "May I join you?" he offered her the cup.

Lydia Princhett. Shield agent. She had red hair and a stern face. Died in 2012.

"Of course, even though I don't think we've ever been introduced," she grabbed the cup, giving him a slight smile. Loki tightened his lips.

Lydia Princhett. Consultant at the TVA. She had brown hair and a relaxed expression.

"I'm Loki, from Asgard."

"I know," she brought the cup to her lips, and for a moment, Loki was filled with hope. "Everyone knows about the new consultant with Mobius," she laughed almost mockingly. "I'm a consultant too. I was supposed to be disposed of, but in my timeline I was a bounty hunter, and they thought I could be useful," she shrugged.

Loki knew. That's why he’d kept her. No one knew better than her how to find someone and, conversely, how to hide them.

"And are you? Useful?"

"I sincerely hope so, otherwise, I don't think they'll wait long before getting rid of me," she chuckled lightly.

Loki remembered the first time he heard her laugh. He had tried to make a toast and burnt himself. Her laughter sounded like a bell, and the burn was absolutely worth it.

But none of that had ever happened for her.

That Lydia had never fought against him, lost, and spat at his feet, telling him how he would never be feared and respected like Odin.

She had never tended to his wounds after a fight, even under coercion.

She had never looked at him with pity when she realized that, in turn, Loki was under someone else's influence.

She had never agreed to hear his story and had never told hers.

"What was your Nexus event?" Loki didn't think before speaking; it just came out.

"Don't you think that's too personal a question?" Lydia raised an eyebrow but decided to answer anyway. "I decided not to go to work one day; I had absurd cramps," she leaned closer, whispering and eliciting a light laugh from both of them. "I didn't think the world would change much just by not going to work for one day."

Loki tilted his head. "When was it?"

Lydia shrugged. "I don't know exactly how long ago, time is a mess here, but it was in 2012."

Loki nodded, lips pressed into a line.

That Lydia had never known him, and she had never been a causality during the New York attack.

There was a moment of silence in which she observed him, and Loki felt tiny under her gaze. It seemed like she was analyzing his soul, exposing every secret.

"Do you know me, Loki of Asgard?" Lydia tilted her head, offering a smile.

He looked at her for a second. "No."

"But did you know me?"

Loki didn't answer, lowering his gaze.

Lydia finished her coffee, placing the cup on the table and sighed before standing up. "Well, thanks for the coffee; it was delightful," she gave him a forced smile and began walking towards the exit. Loki opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Lydia stopped after a few steps.

"For what it's worth," she turned to him, "I'd like to get to know you, Loki of Asgard."

Loki gave her a slight smile, the saddest he had ever made, and with a nod, he bid farewell to her ghost before finishing his tea and returning to work.

[lokimobius]

💜 for Lokius, if you want!

This prompt coincided with both the kiss tag game and the hug tag game; therefore, you get both!!!! Please enjoy this pure fluff that is completely silly.

💜 unexpected hug / sweet gesture & 💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

Pinky Promise (link to ao3 added)

Loki shifted on the sofa uncomfortably as he tried his best not to think about the mission they’d been on today.  

Beside him, Mobius flicked through the latest issue of his jet ski magazine. He tried to focus on the warmth radiating off Mobius’ arm and the way that the sound of the pages made him feel tingly and relaxed.  

On the way back to Mobius’ apartment, he’d burst into tears. He wasn’t sure why exactly—honestly, he was probably just tired. It definitely had nothing to do with the young boy that they’d helped get back to his father earlier, nor with the way that the boy’s father cried as he picked his son up, wrapping him in his arms protectively.  

Truthfully, it felt like a punch to the gut. He never had that kind of relationship with Odin. He felt left out suddenly, like he was a young child all over again, watching Thor get all of their father's attention while he sat on the sidelines.  

Mobius had jumped into action and ushered Loki into his apartment as quickly as he could. He fussed around for a short while, pouring him a glass of water and putting a box of tissues down on the coffee table in front of them.

He took a tissue out of the box and gently placed it in Loki’s hand. “Just in case.” He said, giving him his signature Mobius smile—the one that was so fond and so warm that it melted Loki’s heart.  

He looked down at the tissue in his hand and ran his thumb across it, focusing on the soft texture against his skin. To Loki, the tissue represented more than just a sweet gesture; it was Mobius letting him know that he was safe to express his emotions if he so wished. He held on to the tissue tighter, thankful that he had such a considerate friend.  

He sniffled to himself as quietly as he could and wiped a few stray tears away, allowing himself to mourn the childhood he never had but always wanted.  

Mobius turned a page slightly too aggressively, and the sharp sound of the paper whipping made him jump.  

“Loki?”  

He turned his head sharply and watched as Mobius readjusted himself on the sofa so that he was looking at Loki face-on. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” He smiled, placing his hand on top of Loki’s shaking hand.  

He wasn’t ready to speak yet, and he knew Mobius would never force him to open up, but he was feeling rather vulnerable, so he resorted to something that had worked perfectly fine for him his entire life: defensiveness.  

“If you tell anyone about my show of emotions earlier today, I’ll—”  

“You’ll what?” Mobius interrupted, raising his eyebrow in a challenge.  

He felt the fight leave his body as he made eye contact with Mobius. There was no point in lying to him. Instead, he pretended to look thoughtful, mulling over what he would or wouldn’t do to Mobius. Of course, he wouldn’t actually do anything—never to Mobius. 

“That's for me to know and for you to hopefully never find out.” He smirked.  

“Everyone has seen you cry before, Loki. You do it quite a lot, actually.”  

“I do not!” He scoffed.  

Mobius squeezed his hand and laughed. The sound of it was so delightful that he forgot to be offended further.  

“Okay, okay, your secret is safe with me—cross my heart and hope to die.” Mobius moved his finger over his heart in a cross-motion, and Loki caught his hand in his.  

He fixed him with a steely gaze. “No dying.”  

“It’s an idiom, Loki,” Mobius said.  

“No.” He replied firmly, “No dying.”  

“Okay, Loki, no dying.” He twisted their joined hands around so that their fingers were linked and smiled. “Pinky promise?”  

“I beg your pardon.”  

“Pinky promise,” Mobius repeated, tilting his head towards their hands as if that were supposed to make Loki understand what he meant. He began to move closer so he could touch their thumbs together. “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”  

Loki looked down at their joined hands and noted their proximity. “Oh. Now I understand.”  

He twisted their hands closer together, and Mobius grinned at him.  

“Hey! Now you got it.”  

Loki closed the distance between them and kissed Mobius gently. His lips were softer than he imagined, and his moustache tickled his upper lip. He couldn’t believe that this was the way that Mobius would ask for their first kiss, but he wasn’t complaining.  

He moved his hand up to touch Mobius' face, wanting to deepen the kiss, but as he did so, he realised that Mobius wasn’t kissing him back. Mortified, he pulled away, eyes wide in horror. Was this not what Mobius wanted? He did say kiss, didn’t he?  

Mobius stared back at him, mouth agape, eyes blinking rapidly, and a light flush spread across his cheeks.  

Oh, he’d messed up. Again.  

“Mobius, I’m so sorry, I–” He began, ready to apologise profusely for overstepping, but Mobius pulled their hands close to his chest and shushed him.  

"I didn’t–”  

“Hang on, Loki. Gimme a sec.” He breathed out.  

Loki waited as patiently as he could; his head spun. He was horrified at himself for misunderstanding Mobius, and he silently prayed for a time door to open up below him and transport him to some unknown planet where he’d never have to see anyone again.  

The grip Mobius had on his hand relaxed.  

“Mobius, I–”  

Mobius leant forward and wrapped his arms around Loki. Pulling him in close for a hug.  

“You kissed me.” He said as he buried his head in Loki’s neck.  

It was Loki’s turn to freeze. What was happening?  

“Yes, about that, I'm-”  

Mobius interrupted him by squeezing him tighter and repeating, “You kissed me.” Loki could feel him shake with laughter against him.  

“Mobius, not that this isn’t lovely, but I’m very confused right now.”  

Mobius unwrapped his arms from Loki’s body and brought his hands up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks between them in excitement.  

“You kissed me!” He laughed louder now, and Loki breathed out a sigh between his pursed lips.  

“Yes, you keep saying that, but you won’t let me finish what I–”  

Mobius just rolled his eyes and leaned in. He gasped as Mobius’ soft lips were back on his. His hands were cradling his face gently, and his heart began to beat quickly in the way it only knew how to when it came to Mobius.  

Before he could deepen the kiss, Mobius pulled away. The smile that he gave Loki was dazzling, and his heart stopped all over again. If Mobius kept this up, he’d have to take an embarrassing trip to the infirmary.  

Mobius licked his lips and looked at Loki so fondly. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” He said, letting his hands fall back into Loki’s lap.  

“As did I.”  

He smiled so hard that his cheeks hurt, and he took Mobius’ hand in his, lacing their fingers together tightly. He never wanted to let go.  

“Although I have to say, this was an interesting way to go about asking me.”  

Mobius threw his head back in laughter. “Did you seriously think that was how I’d ask you to kiss me?”  

He flinched and avoided looking into Mobius’ eyes. “Absolutely not!”  

Mobius giggled. “You did, didn’t you?” He pulled him in for a one-armed hug, seemingly not wanting to let go of Loki’s hand either.  

“I hardly think this is amusing, Mobius.” He could feel his face heat up, embarrassed to be read so well.  

“Oh, but it is.” 

[elodiah]

Seven Sentence Sunday

I’ve been kicking around ideas for a “Loki time-looping” fic for a while now, and was provided with inspiration from a couple of members of Lokius twt. I hadn’t written anything so far apart from a few scribbled notes, so I’ve just now written a place-holder for when I do eventually get started on it…

It first happened when Mobius was knelt in front of the couch in his quarters, picking up some loose papers fallen from a file he’d just gathered from the coffee table.

Vertigo took him for a moment, and his vision swam; bright spots flashing alarmingly.

A distorted voice echoing in his ears gradually gained clarity, and he vaguely recognised it as his own. The entire file now slipped to the floor from lax fingers, and he fumbled to catch his balance on the edge of the couch, gasping as his vision shifted nauseatingly once more, abruptly reforming into a scene that shocked him to the core.

Loki lay right there in front of him, curled tensely on his side, helplessly writhing in pain. Mobius’ hands reached out, seemingly beyond his control, one slipping over Loki’s shoulder to rub his back, the other moving to gently smooth his hair. Almost wheezing as he tried to breathe through what appeared to be horrific agony, Loki’s eyes were screwed shut, and Mobius heard his own choked voice, desperately pleading with him, begging to know what was wrong.

No pressure tagging @kcscribbler , @lokimobius , @loki-is-my-kink-awakening , @silentxsymphony , @in-my-loki-feels , @thosegayoldmen , @mirilyawrites , @impulsemuppet

[ctheathy]

I'm meat munching Secret history tails rn.. could I request a secret history tails x Hyper cuddly! Reader a reader who is just very hyper definitely not allowed to have coffee but there looks are deceiving and They know how to fight really well so let's just say somebody tries to fight them and they just Kick there Butt and there completely whipped for tails- Like they would do anything he tell them to do kinda like harley quinn with the joker The reader just joins in on his Chaos sometimes or if he just tells them to hand him stuff they would do it in a heartbeat

Secret History Tails w/ Hyper cuddly!Darling

Secret History Tails x Reader

Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Mmm smegsy lipbite😏

Author’s note : HA! Gotta love pampering this unstable a$$ fox. Let’s just not add in on the toxic dynamic between Harley and the Joker, though😭 you two are wholesome babey’s with one another on this blog.

This is malewife x girlboss dynamic fr.

The request had it stated, but in case anybody just so happened to miss it, SH Tails from There’s Something About Amy was chosen

SH Tails/Reader [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Amy’s brainwashing is mentioned •

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

Right off the bat, he just doesn’t understand how he got so lucky to end up with somebody such as yourself. To him, you truly are like an angel. And he doesn’t behave indifferently about that fact either. You’re like an absolute sunshine in comparison to the horrors they call the multiverse, as if you are the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He praises you to no end as he covers you in tender and passionate kisses, gently holding onto you as you make your ways through the multiverse. I can see TSAA Tails being a lot more mentally available and composed rather than his past self back in Secret Histories. He’s more mature now and has complete control over the situation you currently find yourselves in, making him slightly less vulnerable. He oftentimes tries to brush off your acts of service, telling you it’s not necessary at all-! You’re his beloved, after all. But he cannot help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever you do manage to get the job done for him. But due to his determined nature, he tends to give you back a favour for your own self every single time.

Despite the fact that you might have enough control over your surroundings and are physically prepared and capable when it comes to self defense besides the potential threats, Tails cannot help but remain the same overprotective fox that he always has been. He’ll allow you to take the reins, but not without quietly observing from a distance, keeping a close eye on you and jump in at a moment’s notice when he notices one single hint of struggle. He doesn’t wish to underestimate your strength, knowing it has the capability of upsetting you, but he wants you safe so.damn.badly. The man wouldn’t know what on Mobius to do with himself if he allowed you to get hurt in one way or another.

He most likely just lets out a singular chuckle of his own at your hyper demeanour and allows you to cling to him with no hesitance. You truly are an endearing soul in his eyes. And how you’re so dead set on keeping him in high priority and ensure his safety wherever you both go, it truly just results in him being all wrapped around your little finger if you look deeper into it. And despite the risk of his position, he completely allows it to happen too. He trusts you with all his might and the things you do for him among the dimensions only makes that devotion grow even stronger. I could for example see you protecting the fox with your life whenever you both end up in a world that hold an endangered environment. You just insist and ensure he stays in the back while you deal with the little issue yourself, leaving him to stare in awe at your form in combat.

I certainly believe you’d get along with Amy quite a lot aswell. Especially when being in similar positions when it comes to travelling through the multiverse and often needing Tails to guide you two through the place, the both of you are able to relate a lot on your current conditions. You did feel a little bad for letting Amy be brainwashed like she had been though, but then again, it was what he desired for the quest after all. And regrettably saying, your priorities just seem to find themselves in the wrong direction. You try your best to not let the dimensions get to your head, but it can become hard due to just how much your companions alone have been caught up in it over the course of time.

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

[kcscribbler]

WIP Wednesday

No dialogue this week. Gasps all around.

Background: After the events of Act One, they are hiding out on a timeline branch, and have assumed/stolen the identities of a (straight) married couple, who were "Snapped" by Thanos (hence Loki's pronoun switch).

Mobius finally starts sleeping well enough to be completely worthless before his third cup of coffee in the morning, and Loki has finally stopped teasing him about it. She has learned how to do everyday tasks such as dish-washing without reliance on magic, and he has figured out how to use a cellular phone. Mobius has learned (or possibly remembered) how to drive an automobile, and Loki has discovered the paramount importance of seatbelts. And good brake pads. And not holding an open can of lukewarm and very sub-par soda at the time said brake pads are pushed to their limit. Mobius gets reading glasses. Loki walks into a wall the first time she sees them. And so it goes, calm and mundane and almost...boring. Until it isn’t.

No-pressure tagging @strangenewwords to start the ST chain, and @lokimobius @natendo-art @elodiah @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

@in-my-loki-feels @asoeiki and @peppermintkamz @stillwanderingflame to start the Loki avalanche and pass it on. Whatcha workin' on this week?