#But i can also put 2 and 2 together to make 4

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 2}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: Setting up for an actual wedding is a lot of work, especially when you can't stop thinking about the dream you had about Felix. Is floral prep enough to distract you? That becomes a huge challenge when Felix helps you out in your time of need. // genre: fluff, angst if you squint // word count: 3.1k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes //a/n: This chapter isn't explicit, but it'll be worth the wait. if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, so you didn’t have an extra moment to spare to even think about Felix and the dream. You didn’t have to think about the way your heart thumped uncomfortably in your chest at the memory of Dream Felix’s hands roaming your body. If you found yourself with an extra moment of downtime, the memory would flood your thoughts, heating you up and bringing a flush to your cheek. It was such a visceral dream. You could almost feel the ghost of his fingers digging into your hips, controlling the speed of your thrusts. But with the ever lengthening to-do list to get all the florals done before this wedding, you had the perfect distraction from the new wave of feeling for Felix. 

Well, it was the perfect distraction - until you needed help the night before the wedding. Your humble little floral business was just you and Hyunjin, and both of you had been working overtime to deal with the last minute bohemian aesthetic switch. Your fingers were rubbed raw by all the armature wire and wayward thorns that found their way into your thumbs. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, so you called in the reinforcements. 

By the time the back-up arrives in the shape of Chan, Minho, and Felix, your apartment looks like the garden supply section of a home improvement store exploded. You have deep bags under your eyes when you answer the door. Relief spreads on your face at the sight of the three extra pairs of hands, ready to lighten some of this blossom burden. 

“Sorry for the mess, I had to take out most of the food from my fridge to make room for these flowers,” you say sheepishly. “The fridge at the shop is already packed.”

Hyunjin waves at them without looking up from his position hunched over on the floor, counting the bundles of pampas grass, baby’s breath, and Queen Anne’s lace.

“Y/n, this is way too much. I hope you’ve upped your fee for this,” Minho says, eyeing the different greenery strewn around the floor of your apartment. “A big last minute change like this warrants more money.”

“Yeah, I know, maybe I’ll try to talk to Johnny sometime about it.”

“Definitely talk to Johnny about it,” Chan adds. “Don’t let any client rip you off, especially not your ex.”

“You also look like you need some rest,” Felix says, coming up behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. The protest rising in your throat dies immediately as he starts to knead lightly into your tense muscles. Your eyes close for a moment, leaning into the comforting touch, tilting your head forward as his thumbs rub an even rhythm up the back of your neck. His deep voice, so close you can feel his breath ghost along your skin, breaks you out of your reverie when he says, “So what do you need us to do?”

You clear your throat as your head snaps back up. 

“Right, so…”

You give them each a task - Minho adding final touches to the corsages and boutonnieres, Hyunjin putting together the bridesmaids bouquets and table arrangements, then handing them to Chan for the finishing ribbon. Which leaves you and Felix on your own. This wouldn’t be an issue under normal circumstances, but having a sex dream about one of your best friends isn’t exactly the most normal circumstance. Your focus goes to the flowers, avoiding eye contact with Felix. The two of you are hunched over the separate parts of the arch, wrapping and securing the vines, leaves, and grasses onto the armature. You try not to notice when your fingers brush, sending a tingle through your hands.

After the fifth time you yawn, Felix leans forward to catch your eye, concern written on his face. “Y/n, you are literally about to fall asleep standing up. We can take it from here, you go lay down.”

“No!” you shake your head vigorously, blinking to keep yourself awake. “I have to make sure all of this stuff gets finished.”

“The rest of us are here and Hyunjin knows how to store everything until tomorrow,” he implores. “You need to get some sleep before set-up tomorrow.”

You blink slowly, like a frog, as you look from him, to Hyunjin, Chan, and Minho on the floor. Felix sighs, putting down the wire cutters, and taking your hand. Silently, he leads you to your bedroom, ignoring your exhausted whining. You shuffle in, immediately face planting onto your mattress. You feel Felix pulling the blanket around your body, tucking you in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. We will handle the rest of this,” he murmurs, deep voice lulling you to sleep. “Also, don’t forget to send me the address tomorrow for the venue. I’ll meet you there after I finish up with a delivery.”

You hum in agreement, too drowsy to form words, eyelids heavy. The room is quiet as you feel yourself begin to drift off. You assume Felix had left until you hear a small whisper in your ear. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple.

~~~

The morning is a full frenzy. Before dawn, you and Hyunjin nearly trip over each other to load up the van, playing a floral version of tetris. With the wedding venue being nearly an hour and a half drive away, you were double and triple checking your inventory before heading out. You did sleep pretty well last night once Felix forced you to stop working and go to bed.

Just as you were about to jump into the passenger's seat, Hyunjin asks “Y/n, aren’t you forgetting something?”

You go down your mental checklist, everything seems in order - the garlands are all boxed properly, the table arrangements and vases are stacked carefully, the floral arch is broken down into its separate pieces for traveling. You made sure every petal and leaf was accounted for.

“No, I don’t think so. What?”

Hyunjin stares at you, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at your clothes and back up. “Sweetie, your dress?”

You gasp, jogging back up to your apartment to grab the outfit you painstakingly put together for this wedding. The garment bag with your dress, your overnight clothes, and all of the things you need to look presentable, hangs neatly on your bedroom door. This is the first wedding that you’ve been both hired for and invited to attend. It would have been simple to set up all the flowers and then leave, but you have a strange sense of dignity that you need to uphold when it comes to your condescending ex. Of course you’ll show up, and you’ll even have a very good looking date joining you.

That warm rush of arousal burns through you again at the thought of introducing Felix as your date - no, your boyfriend. Truth be told, the idea of playing pretend with Felix for one night like this excited you. It was actually his idea to pretend you were dating, it would make your success seem all that more believable. You could tuck this memory away for the future, a snapshot of what it could be like if Felix reciprocated your feelings. 

You trot back to the van, hanging your garment back up on one of the hooks in the back. Anxiety bubbles up in your chest as you settle in for the mini road trip to the venue. At the last minute, you remember to text Felix the address.

you: the address for the venue is 143 Myrtle Way. you: sorry that it’s a bit of a trek. 🌻Felix: are you sure this is the right address? you: yeah, why? 🌻Felix: no reason, just double checking.  🌻Felix: see you soon 🥰

~~~

You hate admitting that Johnny and Jenny picked a lovely venue for their wedding. It’s deep in wine country, a smaller venue for the expected 100 guests, at the perfect time of summer. There’s a semi-outdoor section for the ceremony, attached to a lovely covered reception hall, all within a few hundred feet of the actual resort where most of the guests and wedding party are going to stay. Everything is lush and green surrounding the area. Even in the early morning light, you take a moment to soak in the crisp air.

When you and Hyunjin arrive around 7 AM, the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. Even though it’s not for a few hours, you get to work unloading. You’ve always been an “err on the side of caution” type when it comes to being early to a place. Staff shuffles you in to begin bringing in load after load of flowers. The main ceremony hall is where you start, hanging all the garlands and tulle around as planned. Hyunjin holds a stepladder while you start pinning up the hanging greenery, hands tinged green from handling all the leaves and vines.

It’s a little after 9 AM and you’re about halfway done with the main hall. You sigh, rolling your tense shoulders and neck, wishing you had the extra pairs of help hands you had last night. The memory of Felix pressing a kiss to your temple burns through you suddenly. Did he really do that? Was that just something you made up as you drifted off? Maybe your anxious brain wanted to soothe you a little before such a big event. 

You reach up to pin another vine when you sense a person next to you. Assuming it’s Hyunjin, you say, “Could you hand me that spool of twine, hun?”

“Hun?” a deep voice responds. “Is that my new pet name?”

You squeak, slipping a little from the surprise. Two hands grab your waist to steady you on the stepladder. 

“Careful, Y/n!” Felix chuckles.  “People might think you’re falling for me.”

“Felix! Why are you here so early?!”

He saunters around you, picking up the twine and reaches up to hand it to you.

“Is that anyway to greet your boyfriend?” His voice is bubbly and light, contrasting with his deep tone. “I got done with my delivery earlier than expected, so I figured I’d come and help you set up.”

“O-oh,” you stammer. “Thanks, Lixie.”

He smiles as you take the twine from his hand, his whole face lighting up. It makes the butterflies in your stomach start to swarm. 

Felix’s help is a huge relief. He seems to anticipate your needs, handing you things before you even ask, grabbing you a coffee and some food to help you perk up a little. The biggest relief is how he eases your nerves about the actual wedding you're decorating for currently.

Hyunjin is inside working on the table arrangements while you and Felix finally start on the arch. Right where the bride and groom will be standing, you snap all the pieces together, Felix helping hold all of the parts up while you handle the screwdriver. The spot at the top has been tricky, holding your arms far above your head and nearly standing on your tiptoes to attach the metal armature together. 

“I’m going to try something, okay?” Felix says, watching you struggle from his position of holding the stepladder steady. Before you even have time to process what happens, he wraps his arms around your thighs, hugging tightly, and lifting you up a few more inches. You gasp, hands shaking as you try to finish up what you’re working on. When you finally get the screw cinched down, you look down at him.

The way his eyes are literally sparkling as he holds you up with so little effort has that same heat pooling in your belly. He looks like the sun incarnate, a warm glow seems to emanate from him as he smiles up at you. You feel your cheeks heat at his rapt attention. Other parts of you also heat up when you realize how close his face is to your core. Your mind floods with images of what he would look like between your legs in a different context, and you feel a jolt of desire burn through your body. 

“You can put me down now Felix,” you whisper.

“Oh!” he starts, broken out of his trance. “Yeah, of course.”

But he doesn’t just set you down. The grip he has on your thighs loosens slightly as he lets gravity drag you down slowly. Your whole body is pressed up against his as you slide down, feeling every inch of his torso. His hands caress up your hips as you move down. Once your feet touch the ground, he doesn’t let you go, holding you close in his embrace. You’re almost at eye level with him, faces so close you can feel his breath against your skin. His hands splay across your back, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater. Fluttering in your chest, your heartbeat feels like it’s about to burst as he leans his face in, closing the distance one millimeter at a time.

“Felix, I-”

Just then, the door to the seating area bursts open. Jenny, wrapped in a fuzzy white bathrobe, her brown hair in curlers, is marching towards you with a frazzled Hyunjin following behind her. You gasp, pushing Felix away, clearing your throat.

“Hey Jenny!” The adrenaline pumping through you from the shock makes your voice waver a little.

“Y/n, I need to see my bouquet RIGHT NOW,” Jenny says, distress painted on her features.

“S-sure, let me take you to the fridge.”

Hyunjin mouths ‘sorry’ as he shrugs, clearly this was out of his hands. You leave Felix and Hyunjin in the main hall and lead Jenny to the kitchen area, her slippers slapping against the tile. Her anxiety is palpable, you can almost taste it. You reach into the fridge towards the back, wanting to keep these blooms in the best condition.

“If you want to make any changes, I brought some extra flowers and greens just in case,” you say cautiously as you bring out the bouquet. It was just like you two had agreed on during the last consultation,  a muted tone bouquet of white, cream, and pink. There are different types of grasses like white bunny tail puffs and longer fronds of pampas framing the light blooms. Leaves of a sage green pop through to complement the blooms. A few quail feathers placed in between some of the grasses peek through, giving the texture more depth. 

She’s silent as she wrings her hands, a deep crease of worry marks her brow. You wait, trying to gauge her reaction - does she love it? Hate it?

“Y/n, I-” she squeaks. “It’s lovely. I’m sorry. I just got all up in my head about today and then Johnny texted me something, so I had to check.”

“Huh? What did Johnny text you?”

“He said something about the bouquet being wrong. He kind of implied that you were doing a bad job on purpose.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breathing panicked now. “The stress is just, like, getting to me I guess.” 

She slumps against the counter, placing her forehead against the cold countertop. You return the bouquet to the cold of the fridge, and turn around. She’s shaking a little as she leans over the counter, her breath shuddering. You tentatively reach your hand out to place it on her back, rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, Jen. I know the planning has to be stressful.”

“Yeah,” Jenny’s voice comes out so small, muffled against the counter. “I don’t know. I never thought I’d get cold feet, but now they’re, like, freezing.”

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake with him?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, balking at her question. The two of you have never been close, this whole exchange has been well outside your comfort zone.

“No, I don’t,” you say. “I think you two work so well together. You’re Jenny and Johnny!”

“Right but like, will I still get to be Jenny once I’m married to Johnny?”

You pause, unsure of how to respond. “I’m confident that you two work well as a unit and as independents. I think this is just pre-wedding jitters for both of you.”

She gives a slight nod, gazing off into the distance. 

“Also, to be honest, Johnny has never known shit about flowers, so what would he know about this bouquet?”

Jenny giggles, a funny hiccuping sound. 

“Do you like it? We can still make some changes,” you offer.

“No, no. I love it. It’s exactly like I pictured,” she sighs, finally coming down from her outburst. “Thanks, Y/n.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as she turns to leave. The bridesmaids are waiting outside the kitchen, having chased after her when she ran out to the lobby. They coo at her, creating a din of reassurance as they usher her back towards the dressing room. You wander back into the main hall, watching Hyunjin and Felix affix the last of the lights to the garlands, perfecting the atmosphere.

“Hey, Y/n, how did it go?” says Felix once he sees you.

“It was alright, she was just a nervous bride looking for an outlet of her stress.”

“Good, I thought she was going to explode based on how fast she was talking to me earlier,” says Hyunjin.

You chuckle at that. “Nah, she’s alright. Johnny apparently talked shit about my floral arrangement skills, so it made her really nervous. But, whatever.”

“Jerk,” quips Felix.

You hum in agreement. “It looks great in here, guys.”

“Thanks, we’re just about to finish up,” Hyunjin says. “You can go ahead and start getting ready, the ceremony starts in a couple of hours.”

Right, the actual ceremony. That sickly anxious feeling pulses through you again. Interacting with a nervous bride is one thing, but seeing your ex getting married is an entirely different beast. You take a calming breath, trying to shake the nerves.

“If you need anything, sweetie…” Felix says, placing his hand on your shoulder. Your nerves roar back to life at his simple touch. “...let me know.”

It’s wild how incredibly vulnerable one sentence can make you feel. Felix has a way of making you feel like you’re under a spotlight, but instead of sweating nervously in front of a crowd, it’s like basking in the warm glow of sunset. You get a little lost in his eyes for a moment before shaking yourself out of it. 

“Wish me luck!”

taglist: @binniesbabe @jeonginsleftcheek @ivydoesit23 @stayatinykatsy @jaquisos @mong---mong @palindrome969 @dottydarling

[knotmycupofchai]

🏞️ What GOOD changes are coming? 🏞️

Pick a picture/ pick a card

*From left to right

Pile #1

Themes: health; voice; truth; lies; learning from experiences; moving forward and cutting ties

While the overall energy is you moving forward and cutting ties ( or blocking) to maintain your peace of mind— I see someone of you confronting people. Instead of beating around the bush, you’re coming in direct. “I said, what I said” is big here. Expect to get to the truth of a situation, because deception has occurred at your expense. You can expect: reports; lawsuits; fights/ arguments; and exposure of the truth in very blunt ways.

A focus on health is needed to. Allow any confusion and stress to roll off your back.

Pile #2

Themes: love; commitment; pursuit of goals; level up; stability; considering your options; protection

*Not for everyone, but some of you may have your eyes on or have been waiting for someone in the military/ army.

New opportunities to create money at home may be in the works. New home, renovation, work from home job or material comforts are indicated. There’s an emphasis on long-term and long-lasting financial stability and comfort, while also pursuing things out of passion and lightheartedness. There can be passion and stability, it doesn’t have to be boring.

Pile #3

Themes: harmony; joy; building connections or friendships; leaving behind a darker time; new beginnings; faith and confidence

Know that you deserve to be happy and relax, not everything has to be a struggle. Find ways to make good out of any bad, and you’ll see how it changes your mindset. * for some romance, engagement or marriage is here. This could also be new business partnerships/ contract opportunities as well. Commit to important relationships, nurture them— they provide support during hard times. making Important decisions regarding relationships, your future and how it all aligns with your values and vision — is key.

Pile #4

Themes: taking control; creating more space; investments; support; getting things together; quick action and quick decisions

You are becoming the leader of your life, instead of just watching things spiral out of control. You are making smart decision and moves to put you in the right direction and a better position in life. *some are you putting the foundations or money for a business, large purchase/ investment or new home. Ask for help at this time you might be able to gain free or cheap help/ resources. Creating a safe space during this busy and overwhelming time is key for. A new room, bigger home, more space or an office would be good for you guys. Separating work, responsibilities or struggles from private/ resting time.

[sirkusdyretbooks]

The last week these two books have hardly been out of my hands, I've been reading on the bus, in a park, on the bus stop, on a flight of stairs, co-reading with a friend, and whenever the opportunity arose. You see I watched the Netflix show right after handing in my Bachelor and thus got quite curious about the books written by Julia Quinn, and yes I couldn't wait to see the conclusion of Season 3. However, I was fairly surprised, as the books are extremely different from the Netflix show. So, here's my rambling about the two books, because I do love to ramble.

I do think most of the Bridgerton books can be read in any order as you deem fit, but continuing over to book 5 from book 4 naturally seems the best choice as they happen so close to one another. In fact book 5 overlapping with book 4's timeline in it's end, which however also does not do book 5 justice due to inconsistencies between the stories. I am just going to come out with it, as it actually bothered me quite a bit, as book 4 ends on the sentence "And no one saw them for several days" (before the epilogue). Yet, in book 5 Colin leaves Penelope to the country with his three brothers only 2-3 days after the end of the 4th book. 2-3 days is not "several days", at least not to me, and you would think at least Colin might have brought Penelope with him up to the country due to how book 4 ended. It just bothers me greatly.

Adding: Eloise NEVER finds out about her best friend Penelope being Lady Whistledown in any of these books.

Bridgerton Book 4: Romancing Mr Bridgerton

First of all, the three Featherington sisters have a younger sister, Felicity Featherington who has started her season upon the start of "Romancing Mr Bridgerton". Second, it's been over ten years since Daphne's and Simon's story, (which is the book I am currently reading), and Hyacinth is also out for her first season.

I really enjoy that time has passed. Penelope being almost 28, and she's basically a spinster at this point, together with Eloise whom has contracted her own little hobby to Colins dismay. Colin even think his sister is Lady Whistledown, and of course, we do not even get to know who Lady Whistledown actually is until Colin is the one to figure it out on accident.- Colin being too pre-occupied paying attention to Penelope, who is used to no one paying attention to her.

The carriage ride in season 3 actually is the carriage ride after Penelope was caught and they had a huge fight where Colin is upset about her putting herself in danger, going to such "shady parts of London" by herself, in which turns into quite the scandalous make-out session of course. In which at the end of the carriage ride Colin ask Penelope to be his wife. (Adding as I just watched episode six: They DID adapt it, but not of course the same way, here I enjoy the books version more).

I do have to comment, I absolutely love seeing more of Colins point of view, he is much more of a person in the book, as inner monologues do sadly not transfer well into tv. One parts of his human sides that I love and hate at the same time, is his love for food, he's always eating.

Here I will stop comparing it to the netflix show (and I shall enjoy the rest of the show when I do watch it).

The drama unfolding after is of course quite a thing, because it is of course not just Lady Whistledowns possible exposure by Cressida Twombley, who wishes to extort Penelope from all her Whistledown money, but also Colins jealousy towards his brothers and also fiancé for "having purpose", finding trust and support in his author-wife for his journals, which is absolutely lovely.

I really loved this book quite much.

Bridgerton Book 5: To Sir Phillip with Love

From the shock of Eloise's spinster friend Penelope marrying her brother Colin, thus no longer being a fellow-spinster she finds herself in a desperate need to maybe find something for herself as well.

Thus taking the recently widowed Sir Phillip Crane's invitation to heart, months even after it arrived, but just having to get away from her family, disappearing from the ball hosted by the Duke and Dunchess of Hastings, the very night Lady Whistledown was exposed, in which Eloise never found out of course. Showing up at Sir Phillip's door the morning after.

Sir Phillip wishes to find a new wife due to his dear Marina sadly passing away the year prior, due to being "melancholy". Especially, due to his twin children needing a mother. In which he hopes to find in Eloise. Eloise however, never was told of these two eight-year olds in the letters between them, but growing up with seven siblings, where three of them have had more than two children each, she is quite used to children at this point, which makes it not the worst match. However, the children are quite unruly, and are known for being absolute demons.

Having basically ran away from home, of course four Bridgerton men soon show up at Sir Phillips's door, demanding an explanation (Why Colin wouldn't bring Penelope is beyond me). Having been "alone" with a man for two days, Eloise is now of course un-marriageable, even if the only thing that happened was an eccentric kiss, and Anthony Bridgerton demands a marriage between them. In which Eloise wouldn't mind...had it not been for her brother's meddling hands. Sir Phillip is quite happy, Eloise will of course be a splendid mother to his twins. While Eloise wonders if this could at some point, maybe eventually be a marriage with love.

Another thing that bothered me in this book, was how Eloise wishes to speak to her sisters, especially Daphne for advice, but does not even mention Penelope. It almost seems like she has forgotten about her best friend, until the end of the book, where she gives birth to her first child, in which she names Penelope, after her best friend. Being the stubborn Bridgerton-woman she is and not naming her children in alphabetical order.

I was less of a fan of book 5 than book 4, but it was for sure enjoyable, and I do plan on reading the entire series, because why not? Everyone needs some British housewife porn in their lives.

[idobebeinggay]

I definitely did not watch the second half of bridgerton 3 this morning when i was intending to revise.

But actually I have now watched it for the actual plot. (Sped through the scenes) will go back and watch for the plot later.

But i have thoughts. Many.

…. Will update in a moment i am actually going to revise

I’m back. So spoilers from here on out

1) POLIN POLIN POLIN YAY SO CUTE AAAA

that ending was actually too cute. I hope we still have Julie Andrews tho, unless she wants to actually retire in which case more power to her xxx do what you want queen.

PENELOPE BRIDGERTON YES

Portia move from being a bad mum to pen to being a bad mum to the other two. That tracks. Their ball was so sweet i actually love them now. (Am coming round to prudence)

2) VIOLET!!! I love her so sweet, her and Marcus!!! Also I love u lady Danbury but u have no leg to stand on u shagged her dad. Generally love her have thoughts for an other post as well.

3) hyacinth and Gregory being people!! Loving their blooming personalities!

4) John is so cute!!! He’s so great I love him. Him and Francesca are cute.

4.5) MICHAELA??? Ok so I love the gender swap, saw someone suggest they might do it but DIDNT THINK THEY ACTUALLY WOULD. But I hope we don’t get any actual like falling for her until after John’s … ya know. Orr never kill him and her and Eloise can get together. That might be my preference. But I did enjoy the gay panic. I just hope we don’t get any cheating and that John and Francesca can have an actually loving cute relationship. So I might have preferred if we didn’t meet her until later??

5) Eloise is going to Scotland??? Ngl my creloise heart is broken but still confused.com.

I get the vibe they might not end her with Philip?? Kinda hope not. Sooo maybe she learns about queerness from Michaela, I honestly don’t see them as endgame?(from the 3 seconds) also I kinda jumped up and ran a round when Michaela appeared so may readjust after rewatching.

6) Benedict my love.

7) CONFIRMED BI BENEDICT LIVING THE BI BENEDICT DREAM

Honestly just take away the other guy and put me in and it’s my literal dream. I will not stop thinking about g about this ever again. I love Tilley I’m so glad they didn’t make her evil or something. Her and Benedict…………….. is affecting my functioning

8) is it gonna be his season next??

It has to be right? We’ve got Antony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, hyacinth. Of which Antony married check. Colin married. Check. Daphne married check. Francesca married yup has to have a year or so b4 she has her actual season??? Right, Eloise I got the vibe that she’s not quite there yet??? Right?? Gregory and hyacinth are still kids. So we all knew it’s Eloise or my love. Right??

OMG I HYST THOUGHT MAYBE HE DOESNT ACTUALLY WANT TO GET MARRIED FOR THE FIRST LIKE BUNCH OF THE SERIES BUT MEETS SOPHIE AND FALLES IN LOVE AND CANT HELP HIMSELF!!!!!!

Ok that makes sense now.

I might have more thoughts after my rewatch….

[jalapainio]

As I've been reading Comics, I've slowly been assembling a Batman readthrough Timeline, which encompasses the full scale of Batman. I made a post before of years 1-10, but now I have years 1-17 (Sorting them based on eras rather than by dates). Each also includes a canonized Trade Paperback list, for anyone who wants to read this timeline!

(Also this is going to be a long one)

Years 1-10

These years will mostly encompas reprints and post-crisis retells of the Golden and Silver Ages.

Batman Year 1: 22 year old Bruce (first of many soft head cannons) becomes Batman. Many early villains of Batman pop up, including Joker, Catwoman, Mad Hatter, Riddler, and Calendar Man. Canonized Comics include Batman: Year One and Batman: The Brave and the Bold.

Batman Year 2: This year is dedicated entirely to the Long Halloween, which also introduced Poison Ivy, Solomon Grundy, and most famously, Two-Face. Canonized Comics include Batman: The Long Halloween.

Batman Year 3: Much like Year 2, Year 3 is dedicated to its sequel, Dark Victory. In it, a new serial killer known as the Hangman has started killing cops in Gotham. This year sees the end of the classic Mafia in Gotham, and ten year old Dick Grayson being taken in by Bruce Wayne. While he does put on the Robin colors and even goes out with Batman, he is not Robin just yet. Canonized Comics include Batman: Dark Victory.

Batman Year 4: This year gives the main focus towards training Dick. We can also assume that the Justice League, or at least a version of it, has been formed during this year. In addition, Killer Croc is introduced. Also, Batman, Superman, and Wonderwoman meet. Canonized Comics include Batman/Superman/Wonder Woman: Trinity

Batman Year 5: The beginning of year five starts with a bang, with Darkside invading earth. The Original Justice League is formed. I used the basis of the New 52 Justice League 1: Origin as a starting point, and until I can find a better comic, that is the ‘origin’ of the Justice League. While most of the year is like the one above, a calm year for Batman, at the end of year, 12 year old Dick wears the Robin suit for the technically second time. He is the one who makes his suit, angry at Bruce for forcing him through constant training as a stall to prevent Dick from going out. Canonized Comics include Justice League 1: Origin and Robin and Batman.

Batman Year 6: Dick goes through his next big villain during the spring of this year, facing off against Two-Face. After a brief moment when he is fired as Robin, he returns to the Cape, this time with a new perspective on his role. Canonized Comics include Robin Year One.

Batman Year 7: Dick, while working with Batman, notices Bruce's strange behavior. Collaborating with his other teen heroes he met in Year 5, he figures out that the entire Justice League is acting weird! Together, the five (Robin, Speedy, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Wondergirl) team up and work together to take down the Justice League! They called themselves the Teen Titans. Later, Barbara Gordon, 16 years old and an accelerated graduate of College (she has to be not on a normal track, or else her entire relationship with Dick would just be so weird) puts on a bat themed costume to spite her father, and ends up going against Killer Moth. Batgirl, as she's newly christrained, is supported by Robin (but not Batman) to become a superhero. Firefly takes up the costume with Killer Moth, and Batgirl takes them down. Canonized Comics include Teen Titans: Year One and Batgirl: Year One

Batman Year 8: Batman and Superman work together to defeat the Devil Nazha, which ends up with Dick being stuck in time. Bruce rescues him. Also, sometime this year something went down between Dick and Supergirl, but I cannot for the life of me figure it out. Canonized Comics include Batman/Superman World's Finest: Devil Nazha

Batman Year 9: Batman and Superman deal with a new superhero from another dimension and travel around the world to “have their strangest adventures yet.” Idk what that means, but I do know they fit on the Timeline right here. Canonized Comics include, Batman/Superman World's Finest: Strange Visitor and Batman/Superman World's Finest: Elementary.

Batman Year 10: 17 year old Dick and the rest of the Teen Titans fight off a rabid cult of fans! Again, I haven't read it, but I want to. Canonized Comics include World's Finest Teen Titans.

Alright, you still with me? Good. Here is years 11-17. These years mostly encompass the 80s and 90s Batman and the first three robins.

Batman Year 11: The New Teen Titans are formed! While I'm not including the titans book, the New Teen Titans, as it is pre-crisis, many of the events still happen. Mainly, Starfire, Raven, and Cyborg join the team. Canonized Comics include N/A

Batman Year 12: Bruce gets concerned that Dick is spending too much time torn between several different responsibilities, between College, the Teen Titans, and helping Batman as Robin. In a fit of anger, and oh boy how I hate that phrase and how it perfectly describes what happened here, he fires Dick as Robin. Dick goes on to become Nightwing, and 12-Years-Old Jason Todd is taken in as the New Robin. Canonized Comics include Nightwing: Year One

Batman Year 13: Unlike Dick, Jason gets thrust into his role as Robin. He learns of his father's true fate; that he was killed by Two-Face. Going out of his way he almost kills Two-Face, but decides not to. Canonized Comics include N/A (I tried so hard, but I could not find the comics referenced in Death in the Family. Oh well!)

Batman Year 14: Jason and Bruce fight off a cult led by the mad Dean Blackfire. Bruce gets brainwashed, reminds himself why he fights, and then destroys the totem that controlled the cult. Barbara Gordon also retires from Batgirl this year. Canonized comics include Batman: The Cult

Batman Year 15: Barbara Gordon is shot by the Joker, and becomes paralyzed for life. In addition Jason finds out that his mother is still alive, and goes off to find her. This ends with him being beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker. Bruce goes into a fit of grief, putting himself into more and more danger, until 6 months later, 13-Year-Old Tim Drake takes up the mantle. Canonized Comics include Batman: The Killing Joke, Batman: Death in the Family and Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (Sometimes these stories are sold together, sometimes separately).

Batman Year 16: Oh boy. Here's the first hearty year. Firstly, Tim goes to train with Shiva for a couple of months. While this happens, Superman dies. Tim returns home. Bruce meets Azrael, and they fight before Azreal joins Batman’s crusade. As Bruce and Tim start to figure out their relationship, Bane comes into the city, breaks every criminal out of Arkham, and breaks Bruce's Back. Bruce leaves to go on a trip to rediscover himself, and Azrael becomes the next Batman, kicking Robin out of the Batcave and becoming more and more ruthless. Tim goes off and meets Spoiler, his girlfriend, and defeats the Cluemaster. Bruce begins to Travel all around the world, learning how to cure his back. Canonized Comics include Robin: Reborn, Batman: Sword of Azrael, Batman: Knightfall, Robin: Solo and Batman: Knightquest

Batman Year 17: He returns after doing so, defeating Azrael and establishing himself as Top Dog once more. He takes a quick break, letting Dick Grayson take a quick stint as Batman, before returning to the role of Nightwing and moving to Bludhaven. Also important to note, though no comics here reference it, the Birds of Prey begin here. Soon after this, however, a virus spreads throughout Gotham, causing the entire city to go on Lockdown. They defeat the one who caused the virus, and another crossover ends. During this year (Not Sure exactly when), Batman’s failsafe gets released, and Batman is voted out of the Justice League. Canonized Comics include Batman: KnightsEnd, Batman: Prodigal, Robin Turning Point, Batman: Contagion and JLA: Tower of Babel

I’ll be making a few more Batman Timelines after this, adding on Years 18 and 19 (No Man’s Land and War Games), Years 20 and 21 (Damian, Jason, and Bruce’s Death), Years 22 and 23 (Return of Bruce Wayne and New 52), and Year 24 (Rebirth). But each of these are hearty as I try and narrow down the top 15 comics to include for each.

[dmc-questions-anon]

Where DMC Characters Rank

Capcom Super Elections results have come in and it time to see where the characters of Devil May Cry rank among Capcom's wide array of characters.

Dante is very, very popular. He was voted as the #1 Capcom character overall with 26,874 votes, #1 in both the world and Japan, got first with male voters and second with female. Generation-wise, he was voted as the best by people in their 10s-20s, second best by people in their 30s-40s, and fourth best by voters in their 50s-60s (and higher I presume). He got most popular male character in both the world and Japan.

Vergil was voted as the 4th best Capcom character overall with 10,178 votes. He got the #4 spot in the world and was not on the top 10 list in Japan. He got 6th place among male voters and 5th place among female. People in their 10s-20s found him to be Capcom's 3rd best character, while people in their 30s and higher did not find him worthy of the top ten list. He's Capcom's third most popular male character in the world and the 7th in Japan.

Nero landed 16th place overall with 3,025 votes. People in their 10s-20s found him to be 10th place material, while people older than that did not find him to be top ten material. He landed 7th most popular male character in the world and did not make the list in Japan.

Honorable mention to reboot Dante, who made 70th place with 518 votes.

V got 71st most popular with 516 votes, I can only assume this is supposed to be V from Devil May Cry.

Tragically no women from Devil May Cry made the top 10s, only to be seen through the extended list.

We see Lady come in as Capcom's 80th most popular character with 419 votes.

Trish came in at 234th place with 86 votes.

Surprise contender Sparda managed to find himself in 264th place with 69 votes despite the fact we know nothing about him.

Nico found herself as Capcom's 275th most popular character with 65 votes.

Lucia got 379th place with 32 votes.

Nelo Angelo got his own character spot, apparently, and landed 452nd place. Why those 21 people didn't just vote for Vergil I do not know.

Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare got grouped together and are Capcom's 507th most popular characters with 15 votes.

Kyrie is Capcom's 538th most popular character with 13 votes.

King Cerberus made 580th place with 10 votes.

Elder Geryon Knight made 770th place with 3 votes.

Mundus somehow managed to get 3 votes and wound up in 770th place.

The Doppelganger also got their own spot and got 2 votes that landed them in 816th place.

Death Scissors aka the bane of my existence apparently got their own character spot and actually got a vote that put them in 867th place.

RIP Eva I ran through this list twice and did not see your name.

[mighty-poop]

someone: this isn’t really a spoiler lol, if you know you know ;)

me, who didn’t know: well that just fucking spoiled me, cus unfortunately, I’m not stupid.

[passthroughtime]

today i’m thinking about “different first meeting” kuwagami scenario where kuwana is acquainted with kaito beforehand, BUT not as friends, but as fuckbuddies at most. maybe, even just as a one night stand.

yagami comes to kaito’s apartment because he couldn’t reach him or something, and sees another new guy coming out of his shower; this isn’t news for him that kaito occasionally hooked up with random women and men alike, with preference in the former. yagami pays kuwana no mind and actively deflects any advances from him, thinking that kuwana sees him as another fuckbuddy of kaito. yagami doesn’t fuck around that much, and definitely isn’t in the mood to find somebody to stay the night with: they have an urgent case, and there isn’t any other thing on his mind at the moment.

while kuwana falls in love with yagami at the first sight. sure it’s weird to fall for a business partner of the guy he just fucked and isn’t going to remember for long. but, yagami is perfect, in some stupid way. kuwana says something dumb, gets rejected, and his hurting heart tells him he can’t let yagami go. he hasn’t felt this way about anyone in years.

so, he starts to hang around kaito much more frequently, they may even be called friends at some point. yagami thinks they are dating; this is the last thing kuwana wants him to think.

although, they click with each other pretty quickly; with all the annoyance, it’s fun to bicker with him, rarely being serious, picking on him and being picked on in turn. but it also frustrates yagami, because he sees that kuwana doesn’t really care about kaito (the amount he'd expect of the guy kaito is together with). while kuwana sees that yagami worries for kaito, and thinks that it’s in that way. once, he, heartbroken and losing hope, asks what yagami sees in kaito (as a possible romantic partner), but words it badly and is understood even worse. yagami falls out with kuwana, and they stop talking altogether.

yagami sulks and is very upset, because he thought they had something special going there, even if it was just a mutual interest, which wouldn’t turn into anything else. kuwana stops talking to kaito, explaining to him that it was because he couldn’t bear to be with yagami in one room when he hates him so much. his words kind of insinuate of kuwana’s feelings for yagami, but kaito doesn’t catch the hint.

some time passes, and yagami and kaito talk about kuwana. yagami says that he regrets so much cutting kuwana off from his life. kaito remembers what kuwana said, tells it to yagami as word for word as he could remember, and though he doesn’t understand what’s wrong, yagami sees kuwana’s message clearly.

yagami can’t reach him by his number (it’s out of service), so he comes to his house in ijincho. he isn’t home, but yagami waits for him. approaching his house, kuwana sees him sitting on the steps and asks, “did you not cuss me enough?” and everything he says is openly antagonizing. yagami tries to talk to him calmly, but with time kuwana, unyielding, starts to piss him off. yagami says something along, “and here i thought you’d want me to apologize to you” and storms out the house with an intention to drink this anger away and come back.

kuwana isn’t able to stop him (when he tries, yagami punches him in the nose so hard kuwana sees stars, and it starts bleeding), but he finds him leaning on the railing in the nearby parking lot, with cheep beer in his hands. “you didn’t escape far. feeling guilty?”, kuwana asks, meaning his injury. “yes,” yagami answers, meaning the argument that lead them to stop talking with each other.

kuwana asks to share his beer with him, to which yagami complies, and jokes about them having an indirect kiss. “so childish,” yagami says, “we are long past the age of indirect kisses.” “do you want an ‘adult’ kiss?” kuwana jokingly asks, falling into their playful type of talking naturally. “yes,” yagami answers, and kuwana hears no ridicule in turn. he kisses him and tries to say that he wanted to kiss him for as long as they know each other.

“i knew that all this time,” yagami interrupts him, “but i didn’t want a kiss from somebody who isn’t serious about it.” after kuwana’s question of what has changed, yagami answers, “because now i also know you want more from me than this, or sex, or whatever. makes kissing you a lot less disgusting.” kuwana laughs, and yagami steals this sound with another kiss.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[what-even-is-sleep]

Trying to get ahead of an unsustainability cycle that might be starting up this week,,, (I start work).

[bunnihearted]

🚬🧸🧃🎀

[mishtershpock]

.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

[tasmanianstripes]

Amazing how it took the developers of Poppy Playtime two whole chapters to finally make a bare minimum of a functional game

[julesnichols]

Y'know. There were several ups and downs when I was working for the mouse, and the downs were always really, really bad. But like also I'm glad for them because four years ago I absolutely would not have said SHIT about being given a shift that conflicts with my availability and just worked it hoping it never happened again. Now I will talk to all four fucking managers who work throughout the entire day I've been here until one of them listens instead of pushing back and getting pissy about me saying it's not my fault and sure, I'll try to find coverage to be nice, but not my fucking problem if I can't find it, can't work the shift, they can't mark me as a no show and they can die mad about it because they should've thought about it before giving me a shift I can't work 🤷

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.