#been thinking about just calling it Mobius

[tales-of-green-hill]

This comic follows Sonic's story after the conclusion of the Shadow Arc

You might also want to check out This Comic!

Also, this is the beginning of the following arc!

After activating the gateway ring and going through it.

[Next Part]

Here's some old art! (The design of the gateway ring has been altered since)

It's supposed to look pretty and magical instead of icky and gross

[nostalgia-tblr]

did i mention here the SHOCK REALISATION that sylki fic is often about Loki emotionally supporting Sylvie and lokius fic is often about Mobius supporting Loki, so if you combine those it seems fandom has an overall heirarchy of How Fucked Up Everyone Is and it goes:

Mobius >> Loki >> Sylvie

There are a few conclusions we could draw from this, mine is that I feel so very sorry for the hypothetical character that fandom would consider fucked up enough to need to be emotionally supported by Sylvie D: THAT POOR BLORBO D: D:

[sparklingzone]

sonic fans and pokemon fans are similar in many ways

and i dont mean in the “will play anything even if its just a picture of a character on a rock” way (guilty) but in the way that some people are VERY into one version of the lore over others

people who are all in on the game lore only, or comics/manga, animations, or maybe a specific au....

[the-second-hand-unwinds]

1x04: "just kind of an asshole and a bad friend" - this scene, though!!

I don't see this scene discussed all that much, but for me it's a massive turning point, not just in the Lokius friendship but for Loki's own growth as a person who doesn't want to let down the people he respects and cares about. Mobius completely blows Loki's mind here and cuts him down with a graceful, yet blunt skill. He can almost read Loki's mind; no one has ever understood Loki like this before. But more importantly, why Mobius' reply here means so much:

He's not raising his voice. He's not giving Loki the angry and hurtful response that Loki expects and wants right now. That's because if Mobius hurts Loki back, if he retaliates in kind, it will distract Loki from the fact that he was a dick to the first real friend he ever had. It will make it much easier for Loki to lie to himself and excuse his actions, while avoiding any guilty feelings. Mobius is not going to give him that.

Mobius also refuses to play along with Loki's bratty drama, instead speaking to him in an honest way, showing that yeah, Loki did let him down and hurt his feelings. And that Mobius is angry, sure. But it's not a moment for petty, fake drama such as Loki tries to ignite.

Instead, it's his friend saying "I trusted you and put myself on the line for you and you betrayed me. You don't get to make this about anything else." (more below the break)

Owen Wilson's delivery on these lines could not have been more flawless. We get all of Mobius' feelings; he's just a regular guy at the end of the day, and his genuineness, his integrity is not what Loki is used to dealing with. He's knocked the ground out from under Loki, this simply, this easily.

Emotional stakes instead of shallow, selfish ones. Loki is thrown into real shock by this turn of events. This is not how he's used to being dealt with when he's been "bad." The child in Loki never matured past these tantrums, for reasons we can easily guess.

Instead of being enraged or saying a bunch of mean stuff back at him, Mobius calls it like it is, then moves on, as if Loki no longer deserves his attention. That is going to drive Loki so crazy.

Plus, Mobius gets Loki so completely that he already knows how his statement is going to hit him. That's why, when Loki's surprised expression appears, Mobius is expecting it and says, "Yeah, chew on that for a little bit."

In other words, "How do you like being treated like a person who is expected to be decent and considerate, as opposed to being treated like a threat or problem to be destroyed?"

I think the latter was damaging to Loki at first, but then, over time, so much easier for Loki to cope with. Enemies were playing into his hands by repeating back the same insults he's gotten used to, has toughened up to.

Nobody has believed in him and expected - not just demanded - but expected better from Loki, until Mobius.

Knowing that he almost immediately tarnished such a friendship hits completely different and Loki is thrown by it.

Mobius sees Loki 100% for who he is and knows how to get under his skin when necessary, knows how to get past Loki's bravado in a way no one else has done.

But part of that skill is because Mobius really still can't help loving Loki to bits, and as hurt as he is here, he has not completely given up on Loki. It's Mobius' genuine, heartfelt responses to Loki that allow him the empathy to give as good as he gets, but more than that, to care enough, specifically, to try and help Loki learn to be better.

I just love them so much-- 😭💓💞

[wheredafandomat]

My Loki

TVA! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut - Quick fire rapid small drabble thing because ep 2 was hot 🥵 WK 700

“I have done some terrible awful things. Yeah, maybe that is who I am and he knows, she knows” Loki paused for a moment, glancing at you “it’s the real me. A loser. Always have been, always will be” he continued.

“Loki” you interrupted to no avail.

“And perhaps I’ve been holding something back. Perhaps I’ve just been waiting for a moment like this, so I can do terrible awful things to you” he threatened, stepping closer to Brad who’s expression had contorted into fear.

“Loki, that’s enough” Mobius tried to intervene but he was in a trance.

“Loki” you spoke authoritatively, stepping between him and Brad, snapping him out of his stupor as his almost teary eyes met yours. “No” you mouth, urging him to back down.

Taking a deep grounding breath, Loki turned away before storming out of the room. You looked over at Mobius who shrugged his shoulders before you chased after Loki, calling his name but he didn’t respond, he just weaved his way through the other agents, continuing down the corridor.

“Loki, Loki!” You yelled, following him into a locker room as he spun around.

“WHAT?” He exclaimed.

“Talk to me” you implored.

“You want me to talk to you?” He questioned almost mockingly as he stepped towards you, caging you between himself and the locker behind you. You tried to keep your breaths even as the familiar scent of his cologne evaded your senses, exciting you. “Hmm? Is that what you want?” He continued, using his thumb and index finger to tilt your chin upwards, his eyes boaring into yours. “You want me to confide in you, tell you what’s going on in my head, what I’m thinking?” He listed as he lifted your skirt up a little, pushing one of his legs between yours and stealing your breath away as he began rubbing his thigh against your clothed pussy. Your head fell back against the locker, eyes closed as your panties dampened. You practically purred when he undid one of the buttons on your shirt and began kissing your neck. “What if I don’t want to talk?” He uttered against your lips before you pressed yours against his, kissing him deeply.

Lifting you, Loki pressed you back harder against the lockers with his hips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Using one of his hands, he undid his belt, pulling his trousers low enough to free his hard cock as he pumped it a couple of times before running it through your slick folds and guiding himself to your entrance.

“Fuck Loki” you murmured in his ear as he entered you before pulling out a little and thrusting inside of you again. His movements were fast, almost desperate as you moaned against his ear. You could tell this wouldn’t take long for either of you.

“I’m the villain y/n” Loki confessed between thrusts as he grunted “in his story and in yours”

“No” you insisted, opening your eyes as you looked down into his, your hand against his cheek as he slowed this thrusts “you’re the God of Mischief, you’re my Loki” you affirmed “not a villain” you smiled, Loki’s expression changing into something that could only be described as fond.

Pecking your lips, Loki sped his thrusts again, fucking into you with ardour as the lockers behind you clanged against the wall, the sound of both of you moaning filling the room.

“I’m so closee” you mewled moments before your orgasm swarmed you leaving you shaking as Loki chased his own.

“Fuck” he cursed, stilling his movements as he pushed his hips against yours, filling you with his warm seed as he rode out his high.

Once you were both sated, Loki placed you back down onto shaky legs as he pulled his trousers back up, simultaneously pulling your skirt down as if he knew you were both about to be interrupted.

“Here you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you both” Mobius spoke, entering the room as you fixed your hair.

“What?” Loki questioned as Mobius’s gaze flicked between you both suspiciously.

“No, nothing” he dismissed, noticing your shirt button undone.

“Let’s go then” Loki gestured, walking past Mobius and out of the room.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @vickie5546 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @somewhereinthegalaxi @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @mushypork @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 3

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: We're finally heading into the main plot I think lol. Hope y'all like this one, let me know. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

"Casey!" You called, hurriedly walking between the rows of files while looking down at the paperwork in your hands. TVA's library was either your favorite place or the place you hated the most. No in-between. It was your favorite when you stopped by to lounge in the armchairs and read your books in the calming silence. But when you had to traverse between the cramped shelves in search of files, that's when you hated it.

"Casey?" You called again, still turning the pages with a frown on your face.

"Yeah, what's up?"

The sudden voice caught your attention and you raised your head just in time to not walk straight into your friend. You chuckled to yourself, coming to stand beside him in the small space between the tall shelves. "I was going through this report and it mentions a code 581, I've never heard that one before." With your finger, you pointed to the underlined letters on the report.

"Oh, that's a fun one," Casey smiled, taking the papers from your hands, "it's kind of a rare case actually, it's when two variants appear simultaneously…"

While you spoke with Casey, all the way on the other side of TVA's weirdly shaped building, and one floor above, stood Mobius with Loki by his side; both of them leaning on the railings and observing you from afar.

"How long did you say she's been here?" Loki asked, his eyes never leaving your form. His face had a complicated expression, almost as if he was still figuring out how to feel about actually seeing you, the same girl from the life he was supposed to have.

"I didn't, I said that time passes differently here in the TVA," Mobius spoke beside him, his eyes slowly shifting between you and Loki. "But, if I had to guess I'd say the equivalent of around two years."

It's been a couple of weeks since Loki arrived, and in his time here he's been quite helpful for the TVA; not enough to catch the rogue variant, but enough to earn his end of the bargain.

"Is it a habit of yours to keep variants around then?" Loki turned to Mobius with a raised brow.

"Not at all," Mobius chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You two are the only ones so far, and you can thank me for that, by the way."

Loki pursed his lips as he shifted his gaze back to you. He watched as you spoke with Casey, huge smile on your lips as you gestured around saying something he couldn't understand. "Why keep her?" He asked quietly.

Mobius sighed, following the path of Loki's gaze toward you. "Same reason as you, pretty much. She was very... familiar with the Loki from her timeline and I figured she could be of help to us. At first, she was a very tough nut to crack, but it was either that or be pruned so eventually, she agreed, and has helped capture many Loki variants in her time here."

A scoff went past Loki's lips. His hands gripped the railings tighter, heartbeat quickening with each passing second that brought him closer to meeting you. Why he felt this way, he couldn't tell; it was as if his body knew something he didn't. "And, by her timeline, you mean my timeline as well?"

"Technically, yes."

─── ·❆· ───

"Thank you, Casey, I'll see you at lunch," you gave your friend a small wave as you turned to go in opposite directions. The ghost of a smile lingered on your lips as you closed the file's folder, but it faded immediately as soon as you looked up.

Mobius stood in front of you, he said your name but it sounded like a whisper drowned underwater to your ears, for you were focused on the person a few steps behind him. He had the same raven black curls, the same sharp nose, fair skin, and bright eyes; his features being highlighted by the artificial lights from TVA's infinite floors. He was a ghost. The one from your worst nightmares and most beautiful dreams. A ghost of your past life, one that instantly got your heartbeat skyrocketing and closed up your throat until you couldn't breathe, or talk, or even think.

You were nearly making holes into the file in your hands with the force you held it with, knuckles going white.

Taking a step closer, Mobius called your name again. He tried reaching out towards you but you took a sharp step back. "There's someone who would like to meet you," he settled for saying, calmly, gesturing behind him.

Forming words became a struggle for you. Your lips parted only to tremble with no sound coming from your mouth. Inhaling sharply, you straightened your posture. "No." You said with finality, your eyes not leaving the ones that reminded you of your Loki.

A frown appeared on his features and he looked like he was about to speak, but you beat him to it, finally looking at Mobius; "You. Me. Storage room, now."

With that, you turned around and took urgent steps to the back of the library, shoving open the door that led to a small storage room for older files no one needed anymore. You turned the switch for the single orange light hanging from the ceiling and then clawed at your scalp, trying your best to regulate your breathing.

Mobius walked in, closing the door behind him. "Listen I can-"

"Explain?" You finished for him, urgency and anger dripping from each syllable, "yeah, you better. What was that? Who is he?"

"We were about to get to that before you stormed off." Mobius shrugged.

"Cut the bullshit, Mobius," you sighed, hands coming to rest on your waist.

"He's a Loki, you've met a hundred of them already."

You bit your lip to hold back the tears stinging behind your eyes. "Yeah, I have, and none of them were-" you hesitated, "None of them looked like-" You swore under your breath when your voice betrayed you.

"Your Loki?"

Mobius' quiet words got you closing your eyes, there was compassion in his voice, being one of the only people here who really knew what you've been through. A long sigh escaped your lips, along with some of the anger, leaving room only for the emptiness that has been following you around for years now.

"Is he?" You were afraid to know, but you asked anyway.

"He was going to be," Mobius took a step closer to you, and this time you allowed him to rest a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress shirt. "He came from your timeline, roughly after his attempt at taking over earth."

An unamused chuckle escaped your lips and a single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away. "Jesus, Mobius. You can't be serious." You looked him straight in the eyes then, voice strained; "you can't be doing this to me."

"He insisted," Mobius raised both hands in front of his chest in a halfhearted attempt to calm you down. "He insisted, okay? He saw you in his file, he wanted to know who you were. What was I supposed to do? He saw you and didn't know who you were but it was clear that you were important, and he felt that too."

A beat of silence passed, and then; "I mean," Mobius chuckled softly, shaking his head; "you should have seen his eyes when he saw you, he looked worse than you do now."

You sniffled, avoiding your teary eyes from his gaze. "What were you supposed to do? Well, what about talking to me first, you oaf," you told him, though there was no malice in your words.

"I'm sorry," Mobius shrugged, not sure of what else he could say to you. "I just figured it wouldn't be fair to either of you if I didn't introduce you. Or, reintroduced you."

You doubted you'd be able to form a coherent thought in your mind right now with the amount of emotions you were going through. But you knew he was right, deep down you did. You just weren't sure what to make of it yet, seeing a Loki who would eventually become your Loki; who, essentially, was your Loki. Just not yet.

It nearly sent you into a panic attack. Seeing him again was all you ever wanted when you lost him, yet now that it's happening, you're not sure if you can handle it. Or if you still want it.

Mobius tried to find your gaze with his, and as if reading your mind, he said; "Isn't this what you wanted when you first got here? To see him again?"

"That's not me anymore, Mobius," you spoke before you could stop yourself. "I'm- I'm not that person anymore." Your voice was quiet, muffled behind the walls you'd built around your wounded heart. "Besides, that's-" You stumbled over your words, tasting your tears on the corner of your lips, "that's not him. That's not the Loki I knew."

"How can you say that, you didn't even speak to the guy," Mobius gestured to Loki's general direction outside of the storage room.

"Yeah well, I don't have to!" You snapped, and closed your mouth soon after, mumbling an apology. "I just- He's not him," you said quieter, almost as if saying it again and again would make it true.

"Maybe not yet," Mobius reasoned, pursing his lips as he mulled over unsaid words; "But he is, otherwise he wouldn't have seen his future with you. You know that."

You buried your hands in the pockets of your pants because you could feel how heavily they were shaking. You bit your lip until you tasted blood. "I can't. I'm sorry, Mobius, but I can't. You tell him I want nothing to do with him." The words rolled off your tongue quickly and strained, you didn't give Mobius time to answer you before you were shoving open the door of the storage room and rushing outside.

From the side of your eyes, as you walked, you noticed Loki leaning against one of the file shelves. He perked up when he saw you, straightening his posture and softening his gaze as he took half a step towards you.

You didn't spare him a second glance before turning your back to him and hurrying to the opposite way.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 4 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

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[percheduphere]

I'm kinda curious, especially since a lot of people have very different views on this: How do you think Loki and Mobius would be in an actual, official, romantic relationship? I kinda think they would keep doing what they're doing but I don't really know what level of romantic stuff they would do. They're already pretty physically affectionate, but would they do that in public since both of 'em are pretty secretive about their normal emotion? They compliment each other but would they use things like honey and dear in a serious way? Etc. So...How do you think this time couple would be like?

I adore this ask because all my headcanons about Loki and Mobius being in an established relationship are SOFT. The best part is, canon supports this.

While I do agree that Loki and Mobius's dynamic will continue the way it has been, I also think a certain level of emotional intensity will be brought into the mix, increasing their general chemistry in front of others ten-fold. The banter, the idea spit-balling, the lack of personal space, the smiles, laughs, and long gazes ... imagine all of that dialed up. Loki loves as hard as he hates and is a hedonistic show off. Mobius has loved Loki since Day 1 and repressed his feelings for long enough. Are they really going to be reserved around each other once they're securely in a relationship?

No! They will be the most sickeningly lovey-dovey couple in the MCU.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

S1 had Mobius advocating for and complimenting Loki in private and in front of others. S2 had Loki reciprocating. It is not hard to imagine them becoming fiercely protective of one another on and off the field. Cross one, the other is crossed. They are a two-package deal, and both are vicious when it comes to wielding words on behalf of the other's dignity.

As for terms of endearment, I can imagine Loki calling Mobius "Darling" on spare, particularly emotional occasions. Mobius, on the other hand, still has Don in him. "Sweetheart" and "Honey" are very in-character pet names he would use. Both reserve usage of these names in private as Loki hates blushing in front of others, though Mobius has a tendency to slip when he's multitasking at work.

PHYSICAL TOUCH

The hug in S1E5 seems to have opened the door for physical affection come S2E1. Loki and Mobius (especially Mobius) touch one another with affection, attentiveness, and protectiveness on instinct. Despite not being romantically involved in S2, they move around one another the way two lovers in a small kitchen might. Once in a relationship, they will continue to do this but certain gestures will hold more meaning, in particular: holding hands.

One of Mobius's first gestures of kindness, which Loki initial rejected, was a handshake in S1E1.

The second time Mobius offers his hand, Loki takes it and uses Mobius's compassion as an opportunity to steal the time twister from his pocket.

Mobius offers another handshake in S1E5, which Loki declines in favor of a heartfelt embrace that he extends to Mobius and Mobius happily accepts.

Physically (and symbolically), Loki and Mobius's relationship was founded on Mobius extending a hand and Loki refusing it, betraying it, and finally taking it. I therefore see them holding hands regularly, every day, because holding onto one another is grounding, comforting, and reminds them of these earlier moments in their relationship that they've overcome together.

As these two are not shy about tight embraces in public, I doubt either would feel shy about chaste kisses either. They are so in-sync and adoring of another that it goes without saying that when they have sex, they make love passionately. They communicate with touching just as much as words, so heteronormative "bottom and top" designations are thrown out the window and into the dumpster (where they belong). How they have sex conveys how they feel about one another in that specific moment.

PDA

Among others, I can see them being nauseatingly sweet. We already know what bystanders look like when they tease and bicker with one another:

And make no mistake that Loki would up the dramatics with PDA just to gross Thor out. Thor making a "barfing gesture" cracks Loki up every time, and Mobius, resigned, goes along with it because who doesn't want to get peppered with kisses?

QUALITY TIME

I haven't seen anyone point this out yet, but it's hilarious to me that S2E3 starts in broad daylight and cuts to evening by the time Loki and Mobius stroll out with cracker jacks in their hands.

Loki looks a little annoyed but he is going along with it for Mobius's sake. Sightseeing at the World's Fair makes Mobius happy, and whatever makes Mobius happy, Loki will indulge even if he's not interested. Like that key lime pie he didn't eat.

If this is their relationship when it's platonic, then be ready for Mobius to take date night very seriously.

Dinner and a night at the opera? Naturally.

Eating pastries and drinking coffee while people-watching in Paris? Absolutely.

Biking side-by-side along the Dutch Coastal Route in the Netherlands? Of course!

Mobius will take care of all the planning and Loki will enjoy sharing new experiences together. On (frequent) occasion, Mobius will surprise Loki by choosing an activity he knows Loki will enjoy, such as visiting an ancient library or perusing fine clothes at a bazaar.

Point being, these two have always enjoyed each other's company and have fun together. In a relationship, they will actively take time out of their schedule to bond more purposefully!

ACTS OF SERVICE

Both Loki and Mobius are strong when it comes to communicating love through acts of service. Where Mobius is a little higher on words of affirmation, I believe Loki is slightly higher here. Loki pays attention to Mobius's interests, habits, and creature comforts. He will commit to memory the exact way Mobius prefers his steaks, sandwiches, salads, and coffee prepared.

Mobius, for his part, will take care of things Loki doesn't like doing. Taking out the garbage? Done. Washing the car and filling it with gas? Did it while you were asleep. Filling out paperwork? Say no more.

Sadly, I don't think either of them have a talent for cooking. Loki grew up with palace servants. Mobius relied on the TVA cafeteria. They will attempt to conquer the kitchen together, but the end result is always either a fire or a flood. It's okay. Loki can name Mobius's top 5 take-out places off the top of his head.

GIFTS

Neither Loki nor Mobius strike me as big on gifts, but when they feel the sentiment, they give one another meaningful things that only they understand.

I think Mobius may be slightly more inclined for gift-giving. He knows what material objects mean most to Loki and why. Loki, meanwhile, might feel challenged in this area. Not for a lack of enthusiasm, mind, but because Mobius doesn't have many material desires beyond a jet ski. Loki would like to think he's more creative than getting Mobius a new one once a year.

In short, Loki and Mobius already engage in the 5 love languages. Being together will only strengthen what they do for one another, much to their friends' longsuffering annoyance.

[thankskenpenders]

Is Mykael's weight being listed in "km" while his height is a correct "cm" unit just a typo or do they all have that

The other characters' heights and weights are all listed in marks and stone, a thing Ken's been doing since the Archie days because not using standard metric or imperial units makes it More Fantasy.

Likewise, he uses a confusing fictional calendar system in the book. Lara-Su's date of birth is given as "428 LSD (Local Solar Date) / Rev 3266," and the fact that he's given Mobius years of uncertain length makes it basically impossible to accurately translate characters' birth dates into human ages. (If we just assume the revolutions are equal to Earth years, Geoffrey would be like 68??? He's supposed to be in his 40s in Earth years.) But then the establishing shots in the actual stories use a unit called "chronons"?? I have no idea if those are supposed to be years or if they're supposed to be timeline designations or something

Anyway, bitching about Ken's unit choices asdie: yeah, it's probably just one of several typos in the book. I don't think Ken made up a fictional unit of weight for the one character from Earth when his height is listed in cm, and I also don't think he weighs 87.08 kilometers

[elysiaheaven]

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄-(𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭), part 2!

Words:21003: Contains Sunday leaks of joining.

Genre: Smut

Summary: After that incident, you and sunday were in love, You became more caring about yourself and decided to make him something to heal his wings  but he accidently dropped it. and you locked yourself to make one again. being sad that he was the reason he decided to ask the Astral express to gift you something in the end, the aphrodisiac spills again, and then you share your past with him. He wants to make you celebrate this day again so, with the help of march 7th! he and you were now husband and bride!

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

In middle of the chapter, Smut is there. So please don't read if you don't like stuff like smut!

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

Part 2 of the cupid found in stars!

Over the next few weeks, the bond between you and Sunday deepened. The initial shyness and uncertainty gave way to a comfortable routine, where affection became a natural part of your daily life. You found yourself often reaching out to him, whether it was a quick hug in passing or a gentle touch as you both sat together. Sunday, in turn, seemed to grow more confident, his wings frequently brushing against you in a tender caress that made your heart flutter.

Your research continued, and you found yourself more focused and energized than ever. The hours spent with Sunday seemed to infuse you with a new sense of purpose. Whenever you were engrossed in your work, Sunday would quietly join you, his presence a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. He would sometimes rest his head on your shoulder, his wings lightly trailing across your skin, making you feel cherished and supported.

As the two of you sat on the couch, Sunday leaned closer, his wings wrapping around your face like a protective cocoon. "I've noticed you're looking healthier these days," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."

You smiled, leaning into him. "I think it's because of you. You've made everything better."

Sunday blushed, but his eyes shone with happiness. "I'm just glad I can be here for you," he said softly. "You make me feel like I have a purpose."

You turned to face him, your hand gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "You do, Sunday. You mean so much to me." Your voice was tender, full of the affection that had grown between you over these weeks.

His wings fluttered slightly, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "I want to make you happy, always," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt a surge of emotion and tightened your embrace, feeling safe and content in his arms. "You already do," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity.

Tho, you sleep a lot. Sunday always wakes you up. It's like a daily task now for him.

It was lunchtime, You had told Sunday, You would skip breakfast as Lunch.

"Where are you going, Sunday?" the black-haired man asked the blue-haired guy.

"Oh, Mr. Dan Heng! I'm going to wake up Y/n..."

"I see. She's being a sleepyhead, as usual. Good luck waking her up," he said, flashing a smile that was as innocent and bright as ever before walking away. He knew all too well the struggle of getting her out of bed.

Sunday made his way to her room, which was always messy, but he didn't mind tidying up for you.

"Y/n...?"

He saw a distinctive lump beneath the sheets in the chic four-poster bed.

You're still sleeping..

It had been a while since you last woke up late. This time, though, he decided it was his turn to rouse you from your slumber.

The sheets were pulled tightly over your head, concealing your face. He could only hear the rhythmic sound of your deep, even breaths.

"Y/n, it's lunchtime. Time to wake up."

"Zzz..."

He knew just calling out wouldn't suffice. He had learned from experience. With a determined tug, he yanked the pristine white sheets away in one smooth motion.

"Good day, Y/n!"

"Wha?"

"You're sleeping half-naked again!?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Hm...?" Your sleepy eyes blinked open as you reached for his arm.

"Careful..." He toppled beside you, finding himself instantly pinned under you.

"I'll leave you to your rest then," he started to say, but you clung to him.

"You don't have to—*yawns*—"

"Y/n..." His hand gently touched your cheek, and before you could fully wake, he leaned in and kissed you deeply. The kiss was warm, filled with the lingering sweetness of sleep. Your heart raced with every press of his lips, until he finally pulled back with a soft, lingering smooch.

"Are you still half-asleep, Y/n?" he teased, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"No, I was awakened by such a romantic kiss, wasn't I?"

"Y/n..." His fingers cupped the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His soft hair brushed against your collarbone. You took a deep breath, savoring his scent.

"You smell sweet. What is it Sunday?" you asked, puzzled.

"Sweet? Oh, probably from the raspberry syrup I made this morning for pancakes. Miss March almost asked for ten. Luckily, I made a separate batch just for you."

"Pancakes, huh? That's nice... but..." Your eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief.

"Huh? You usually get ready quickly when there's dessert involved. What's going on?" He was caught off guard as you positioned yourself on top of him.

You wrapped your arms around him like a snake, your embrace firm and unyielding.

"I feel like... I want to eat you." Your voice was a low, seductive murmur, just as your lips began to place teasing kisses along his neck.

He reacted swiftly, pushing you back down. His hand roamed up to the hem of your nightie, teasing your bare skin.

"Nghh...!" A soft moan escaped your lips, and a flush of warmth spread across your body.

"I like that voice..." His hand continued its journey upward, lightly cupping your breast.

"Hm, S-Sunday... not now," you stammered, realizing that if you didn't stop, neither of you would be leaving the bed.

Sensing your hesitation, he eased his touch and ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Sorry, got carried away. How impolite of me," he said with a playful yawn. You slowly moved away, letting out a huge yawn yourself.

"What a way to wake up..." You chuckled throatily, quickly throwing on some clothes and stretching.

"Ahh, I'm starved. Did you already eat lunch, Sunday?"

"No, not yet."

"All right then, let's go and eat together." He watched as you slipped out of bed and headed for the door..

Yes, You did love to tease and you never did anything you knew he wouldn't like.

That's his problem, You're nice you only want to do what he wants. But every now and then, your tendency to let that niceness win out was a bit frustrating.

In Sunday's heart he wishes you would just tell him what you really want. Because he has confidence that he would love you no matter what.

"Sunday? Why are you spacing out? I'll leave you behind."

"Ah, wait.." The pang of sadness in him inside vanished as he rushed after you.

Sunday followed you to the dining area, where the table was already cleared, save for a few stray crumbs from everyone's finished meals. A slight pout formed on your lips as you noticed the empty plates, your mood dipping at the realization that you had missed lunch.

Sunday hummed softly as he tied the apron around his waist, the fabric of the apron crisp and clean against his shirt. The kitchen was warm and filled with the sweet, comforting scent of pancakes being made. As he poured the batter onto the hot griddle, the sizzle was music to his ears.

You sat at the table, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. Everyone else had already finished eating, and you felt a pang of guilt at the realization. You were used to being the last one up, your erratic sleep schedule as a scientist often leaving you out of sync with the rest of the household. But since Sunday had come into your life, things had started to change. He always made sure you had something warm to eat, no matter how late you got up.

As you watched him expertly flip the pancakes, a wave of gloom washed over you. You stood up quietly and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You pressed your face into his back, feeling the warmth of his body through the apron.

"I'm not clingy," you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

Sunday chuckled softly, his hands never pausing in their work. "I never said you were."

You tightened your hold on him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. His presence was so soothing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for him. He was always there, looking out for you, making sure you were cared for, even when you were too caught up in your work to take care of yourself.

He flipped the last pancake onto the plate and turned off the stove. Then, he turned around in your embrace, gently holding you by the shoulders.

"These pancakes are just for you," he said, his voice warm and full of affection. "I made them with extra syrup, just the way you like them."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "Thank you, Sunday"

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don't need to thank me, Y/n. Taking care of you makes me happy."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the pancakes. Sunday's love was a gentle, constant presence in your life, and you couldn't imagine a day without it.

As you sat down to eat, Sunday joined you at the table, watching with satisfaction as you took the first bite. The sweetness of the syrup mixed with the softness of the pancakes, and you couldn't help but let out a small, contented sigh.

"Perfect, as always," you said, smiling up at him.

Sunday grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I aim to please."

You finished the last bite of your pancakes, you felt Sunday's gaze lingering on you. You looked up, meeting his warm, brown eyes, and before you could say anything, he leaned in and kissed you softly. His lips were gentle against yours, and you could feel the love and care in his every movement.

You smiled into the kiss, your heart fluttering at the unexpected affection. When he pulled back, you kept your gaze locked on his, a playful gleam in your eyes. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him again, this time more deeply, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally pulled away, you could see the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. It was a moment of pure, unspoken connection, where words weren't necessary to convey what you both felt.

But then, a thought crossed your mind, and your smile grew even brighter. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid, holding it out to him.

"I've been working on something," you said, your voice filled with excitement. "A new method to try and heal your clipped wings. It's experimental, but I think it could work. We can test it when we reach the next planet."

Sunday stared at the vial in your hand, his eyes widening in surprise. He slowly reached out and took it, his fingers brushing against yours. There was a moment of silence as he looked at the vial, his expression a mixture of amazement and something else—something softer, more tender.

"You're always thinking of others," he said quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. "You're so kind, Y/n. I wish people could see that."

His words made your heart ache a little, but before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate passion. His lips moved against yours with a gentleness that made your heart melt, and you could feel the depth of his emotions in that kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he looked into your eyes, his expression serious but full of love.

"I don't mind being a flightless bird," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "As long as you're here with me, I have everything I need."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Sunday's words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the worries and fears that sometimes crept into your mind.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing against his cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere, Sunday," you whispered back, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. "I'm here, and I always will be."

He smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in again, kissing you softly, and you could feel the promise in that kiss—the promise of a future together, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Sunday..." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I'll always be here, no matter what."

He held you tightly, his embrace firm and reassuring. 

The vial slipped from Sunday's hand, hitting the floor with a delicate clink. Both of you froze, your hearts skipping a beat as the shimmering liquid inside spilled out onto the tiles, slowly pooling at your feet.

Sunday's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh no... Y/n, I—" he stammered, his voice full of panic as he pulled away from you.

"Oh no..." you whispered, your eyes widening in panic. "No, no, no...!"

"I-I'm so sorry," you blurted out, your voice trembling as you knelt down, desperately trying to salvage what little remained. But it was too late—the precious liquid was already seeping into the cracks between the tiles, disappearing before your eyes.

Sunday dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over the mess. "I didn't mean to... I was just... I'm so sorry, Y/n," he repeated, his voice thick with regret. He reached out to you, but you were already standing, your hands shaking as you clutched the now-empty vial.

"No, no, it's okay," you said quickly, though your voice wavered. You forced a smile, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I can... I can make more. I'll just... I'll work on something new. Don't worry about it."

You could see the anguish in Sunday's eyes, his guilt weighing heavily on him, but you couldn't bear to let him see how much this really hurt. You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips barely brushing his skin before you pulled away.

"I'll figure it out, I promise," you said, your voice trembling as you took a step back. "I just... I need to get started right away."

Before he could say anything, you turned and hurried out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you ran down the hallway, the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, blurring your vision. You knew Sunday didn't mean to drop the vial, but the disappointment and frustration were overwhelming.

You could  still feel the warmth of Sunday's cheek against your lips, the lingering taste of his kiss. But all you could focus on was the overwhelming need to fix what had gone wrong.

Sunday watched you go, a mix of concern and sadness in his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to reassure you that it wasn't your fault, that he didn't care about the vial. But you were already gone, leaving him alone in the quiet kitchen.

He sighed softly, glancing down at the broken glass on the floor. "Y/n... you're too hard on yourself," he murmured to the empty room.

Sunday sat on the floor, his heart still racing from the sudden mishap. The shimmering liquid from the broken vial seemed to mock him, a stark reminder of the hope that had just slipped through his fingers. He reached out, almost mechanically, to clean up the mess, his hands moving on their own as he tried to erase any trace of the accident.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed a towel from the counter and began carefully cleaning up the shimmering liquid. Each swipe of the towel felt like a reminder of his mistake, the regret gnawing at him. Once he had cleaned up the last of the spill, he sat back on his heels, staring at the empty spot on the floor.

His thoughts kept drifting to you—how you'd run off so quickly, locking yourself away in your lab. He knew you were upset, but you'd tried so hard to hide it from him. The idea that you were shouldering the burden alone didn't sit right with him.

He stood up, his heart heavy as he glanced toward the hallway leading to your lab. You had rushed off so quickly, clearly upset despite your brave face. Sunday's chest tightened with worry. You were always so strong, always pushing yourself for others, and he knew how much this setback would weigh on you.

Without another thought, he made his way to your lab, his steps quiet as he approached the closed door. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew how you were when you were focused—locked away in your own world, shutting everything else out. But he couldn't just leave you alone, not when he knew you were hurting.

Gently, he knocked on the door, his voice soft as he called out, "Y/n? Are you okay in there?"

There was no response. He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently. He could hear the faint sounds of you moving around inside, the clinking of glass and the rustling of papers. But you didn't answer him.

"Y/n," he called again, more firmly this time, "please... let me in."

Still nothing. Sunday's heart clenched, and he could feel the worry gnawing at him. He knew how much you valued your space, but he also knew that you tended to bottle things up, shutting everyone out when you were upset.

Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, he gently pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him broke his heart.

You were at your workstation, frantically scribbling notes and mixing chemicals, your hands moving with a desperate urgency. Your hair was a mess, your eyes red-rimmed from the tears you had clearly tried to wipe away. The normally organized lab was in disarray, with papers strewn across the desk and various vials and beakers cluttering the space.

"Y/n..." Sunday's voice was soft, almost pleading as he stepped into the room.

You didn't look up, too focused on your work, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled as you worked. He knew you were pushing yourself too hard, trying to make up for the lost time, but he couldn't just stand by and watch you suffer.

Gently, he approached you, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n, please... stop for a moment," he urged, his voice filled with concern.

You finally paused, your hand stilling as you slowly turned to look at him. There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with unspoken words.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I should've been more careful... I just... I wanted to help you so much."

Sunday shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and love. "You don't have to apologize, Y/n. I know how hard you're trying. But please... don't do this to yourself."

You looked away, your hands clenching into fists as you tried to hold back more tears. "But I need to fix this, Sunday. I can't just—"

He cut you off, gently cupping your face in his hands and turning you to face him. "You don't have to fix everything alone." His thumb gently brushed away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek.

"Sunday, I'm fine," you reassured him, though there was a tiredness in your eyes. "I just... I need to work on this. It's really important to me."

His gaze softened, and he reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "I know it is. I just... I don't want you to push yourself too hard. This was an accident. You don't have to fix it right away."

You placed your hand over his, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I want to do this for you. It's a gift... because I care about you so much." Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his nose, a gesture so sweet and soft that it made his heart ache.

Sunday's hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before you gently pulled away. "I promise, I'm okay. I just need some time to focus."

You stepped back, locking the door once again, leaving Sunday standing alone in the hallway. He stared at the closed door, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He knew how much this project meant to you, how much you wanted to help him. But it was hard to see you pushing yourself so hard, especially when he felt responsible for the setback.

Sunday finally turned and walked back to the main living area, his thoughts swirling with concern. He wanted nothing more than to help you, to ease the pressure you were putting on yourself. But he also knew how stubborn you could be when you set your mind to something.

Sunday sat alone at the table, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him, an idea began to form in his mind. You were always so focused on helping others, especially him, that you rarely took time for yourself. You deserved something special—a gift that would show just how much you meant to him.

But what could he give you that would be meaningful? He knew you were a scientist, always curious, always seeking knowledge, but he wanted something that would touch your heart, something that would make you feel as loved and appreciated as you made him feel.

Sunday decided he needed some help with this. The members of the Astral Express were like family, and he knew they cared about you too. Maybe they could offer some ideas. March 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt... they all knew you well in different ways, and each of them might have a unique perspective on what you would appreciate.

Sunday was in deep trouble. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He wasn't used to feeling this overwhelmed.

It was just a birthday gift—nothing to get worked up over. Yet, he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. He needed to find the perfect gift for her, something that would surprise her and convey everything he felt. Being romantic wasn't exactly his strong suit, but for her, he was willing to step out of his comfort zone.

And just his luck, Mr. Welt Yang was in the central room of the Astral Express. He could help.

"Mr. Welt Yang, I'm here to ask you something. Don't worry, it's nothing too serious. But I do have a favor to ask. I'll help with anything you need after that."

"No need to be so formal, Sunday. You're part of the Express now. Ask what you wish, and I'll do my best to help," Welt replied with a warm smile.

Sunday was a little surprised but nodded gratefully. "I'm not even sure it's something I want... Let's just say I need someone's opinion."

"And I'm that someone?" Welt's smile widened like he already knew where this was headed.

"Well, you were in the right place at the right time, so I thought I'd ask you." Sunday attempted a smile, but it came off more goofy than anything, before crossing his arms over his chest. "I need to find a gift for Y/n, and I'm all out of ideas. I mean, I know I have the body of a god, but I'm not sure that'll be enough." He sighed, running his long fingers across his lips.

Maybe that last part wasn't necessary.

"I-I'm sorry for the last part. I just thought the atmosphere was awkward, so I—"

Welt chuckled softly. "That's how kids these days joke, right? I understand you're trying to fit in with modern humor, but you don't need to force it. Just be yourself."

"Mr. Yang, I appreciate it. You're very kind and mature, just like your age."

"I'm not that old," Welt replied, a touch defensively.

"May I ask your age then?"

"Why?"

"I thought it was inappropriate to ask a lady's age, not a man's, Mr. Welt..." Sunday asked

Welt gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You're right, it's usually a lady's age that's considered off-limits. But I suppose there's no harm in a little curiosity."

Sunday leaned in, genuinely interested now. "So, how old are you, Mr. Yang?"

Welt sighed, looking at Sunday with a mixture of amusement and something else—something more thoughtful. "I've seen many years come and go, Sunday. But it's not the number of years that matters; it's what you do with them. And speaking of that, age isn't something you should focus on too much. People—men or women—carry their experiences with them, not just their years."

Sunday nodded, absorbing Welt's words, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—an understanding, perhaps. Welt noticed it and hesitated for a moment. The young man had a past that was still somewhat of a mystery, even to him. He knew enough to recognize that Sunday's playful demeanor often masked deeper thoughts and feelings.

"You know, Sunday," Welt began, choosing his words carefully, "there's a reason why people tend to focus on the present rather than dwelling on the past or worrying too much about the future. It's because what we have right now is what's most important. And that includes the people around us, the ones we care about."

Sunday's expression softened, and he started listening more intently. Welt's words seemed to resonate with something deeper within him.

"Your concern for finding the perfect gift for Y/n, for instance," Welt continued, "isn't really about the gift itself. It's about what you're trying to say through that gift. You want to show her that you care, that you're thinking about her, and that she's important to you. It's the thought and the sincerity that will mean the most, not the price tag or the extravagance."

Sunday felt a warmth spread through him at Welt's words. He hadn't thought of it like that before, but it made sense. He wasn't just trying to impress Y/n; he wanted to make her feel special.

Welt noticed the change in Sunday's demeanor and continued, "As for asking a man's age... it's not about the number but the wisdom that comes with it. And I think you're already wiser than you realize, Sunday."

There was a moment of silence as Sunday absorbed Welt's words. He could tell that the older man was trying to guide him without prying too much into his past. Welt had always been perceptive like that, knowing when to push and when to hold back.

"Thank you, Mr. Welt," Sunday finally said, his voice sincere. "I think I know what I need to do now. It's not about finding the most extravagant gift. It's about finding something that'll really mean something to her."

Welt smiled warmly, relieved to see Sunday's confidence returning. "That's right. And whatever you choose, I'm sure she'll appreciate it because it'll come from you."

Sunday gave a determined nod. "You're right."

"How about a first edition of a novel she is particularly fond of?"

"Or of a literally classic that she might enjoy?"

"Like a novel..?" He turns the idea around in his head. "I'll enjoy them but- I don't want her up reading all night-" Sunday frowned.

"Just a suggestion, You can ask others too."

"Yes, Thanks Mr. Yang.." Sunday decided to look for Dan Heng.

Sunday found Dan Heng in the archives, quietly reading. He approached him, feeling a little more confident after his previous conversations. Dan Heng looked up from his book, his expression calm and attentive.

"Dan Heng, I need your advice," Sunday began. "I want to give Y/n a gift, something that shows her how much she means to me. Any thoughts?"

Dan Heng closed his book, thinking for a moment. "Y/n is dedicated, not just to her work, but to those she cares about. Perhaps a gift that reflects her interests, but also something that offers her a moment of peace or joy. It could be a rare book she's been searching for, or something that encourages her to relax, like a personalized playlist or a handcrafted piece of art."

Sunday felt a sense of relief wash over him as he listened to Dan Heng's calm, insightful words. "Thank you, Dan Heng."

He spotted March 7th in the lounge, fiddling with her camera as she tried to capture the perfect shot of something. She looked up as Sunday approached, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Hey, Sunday! What's up?" she asked, setting the camera down.

Sunday hesitated for a moment, then decided to dive right in. "I'm trying to think of a gift for Y/n... something special. She's been working so hard, and I want to show her how much I appreciate everything she does. Do you have any ideas?"

March 7th's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh, that's so sweet! Hmm... Y/n's always been into tech stuff, right? Maybe something to help her with her experiments? Or maybe something more personal, like... a photo album of memories? I could help put it together!"

Sunday smiled, appreciating her eagerness. "That's a great idea, March. I'll definitely think about it. Thank you."

Sunday spotted Stelle, who was glaring at him with an intensity that could burn through steel. He knew exactly why she was upset—all because he hadn't made her food earlier. In his defense, March had eaten most of it, and he had to save the rest for you. He had simply told Stelle to prepare her own dish, but she clearly wasn't pleased with that solution.

She didn't seem at all happy to see him now. But there's always a way to fix things, right? Maybe she could help him with his current dilemma.

As he approached, he noticed her eyebrows furrowing, her features hardening into a grimace. The look in her eyes could only be described as pure hatred.

"What do you want from me, Stupiday?" she spat out, using that lovely nickname she had for him.

"Stelle, you're always so kind to me," Sunday began with a hopeful smile, trying to soften her mood. "I know what I did was wrong. Please, just hear me out..."

"Hah! Hell will freeze over the day you deserve even an ounce of kindness. Now, what do you want from me?" she retorted, clearly not in the mood for any pleasantries.

He sighed, realizing that sugar-coating things wasn't going to get him anywhere. "It's about Y/n. Are you just going to stand there pulling that face, or are you actually going to let me talk?"

A flicker of concern crossed Stelle's eyes, and she sighed, some of the hostility in her expression fading. "Alright, tell me what's going on..."

Sunday felt a wave of relief but also frustration with himself. If he kept messing up like this, he wouldn't have anything to give you, and the day would end in disaster.

"I just want to find a gift for Y/n," he admitted, his voice a mix of desperation and determination. "Can you suggest any ideas?"

Stelle looked a bit surprised by his tone. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. "I'll make up for the food once this is done... I could show her a few magic tricks or something, but I don't think that'll be enough."

She stared at him for a moment before finally speaking. "...I have a collection of treasures. I could give you some."

Sunday blinked, not expecting that offer. "Huh? What kind of treasures?"

"Things I got from dumpster diving back in Belobog. I've got some shiny stuff. Come with me, I'll show you—Wait! What are you doing!?" she yelped as he suddenly grabbed her hand.

Sunday-he couldn't help but cringe inwardly. Dumpster diving? He hadn't thought about where she might've found these "treasures," but now that it was out in the open, the thought of germs crawling all over those shiny objects made his skin crawl.

"Wait, you got these from the trash?" Sunday asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

Stelle stopped, turning to him with an annoyed look. "Yeah, so what? A lot of good stuff gets thrown out. It's not like it's all dirty."

"Are you kidding me? Trash is literally the definition of dirty! Who knows what kind of germs are on those things?" Sunday shuddered, pulling back from the collection of objects she was proudly displaying.

Stelle rolled her eyes. "You're such a wuss. They're fine."

But Sunday wasn't convinced. In fact, he was horrified. "Stelle, you have no idea what could be on that stuff! We're talking bacteria, mold, maybe even something worse! You need to wash your hands—immediately!"

"What? They're not that bad!" she protested, but Sunday was already ushering her toward the nearest sink.

"Not that bad? Stelle, this isn't up for debate. You're washing your hands right now, and you're going to do it at least a hundred times."

"A hundred—are you out of your mind?" Stelle tried to pull away, but Sunday was relentless.

"I'm serious, Stelle! I'm not letting you touch anything or anyone until those hands are scrubbed clean. We're talking full-on scrubbing—soap, water, the whole deal!"

Stelle groaned but relented, grumbling under her breath as she turned on the water and started washing. She shot him a glare between scrubs. "This is ridiculous. It's just a bit of trash."

"A bit of trash? You're probably washing off entire ecosystems right now!" Sunday shot back, crossing his arms as he watched her like a hawk.

Stelle continued washing, muttering curses under her breath, but Sunday wasn't satisfied until she had lathered and rinsed her hands multiple times. By the time she had washed them for what felt like the hundredth time, she was visibly exhausted.

"Are we done now?" Stelle asked, her voice strained as she leaned against the sink, looking like she was about to pass out.

Sunday nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, I think you're good. Sorry for being so intense, but... you never know what's on those things."

Stelle gave him a withering look, too tired to argue further. "You're impossible. If you're that worried about germs, maybe you should ask Himeko for help instead."

Sunday blinked, feeling a pang of guilt as he realized how hard he had pushed her. "I... yeah, maybe that's a good idea. I didn't mean to make you go through all that. Thanks, Stelle."

"Whatever," she muttered, slumping down onto a nearby chair, completely worn out. "Just... don't drag me into any more of your crazy ideas."

Sunday smiled sheepishly. "I promise I won't. I'll go find Himeko. You rest up, okay?"

As Stelle nodded weakly, Sunday turned and made his way to find Himeko, silently cursing himself for being so paranoid. Maybe Himeko would have a better idea, one that didn't involve germs or exhausting his friends.

He found Himeko in the control room, sipping on a cup of coffee as she monitored the Express's systems. She looked up when Sunday entered, offering him a warm smile.

"Sunday, it's good to see you. What can I do for you?" she asked.

Sunday explained his plan, and Himeko leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. "Why do you want to gift her?"

"Why would I-?"

"I can't help if I didn't know the context behind this, I saw you snooping around everyone for gifting her something she would like, I need to know you felt the urge to gift her."

"Y/n has been working on something to help me out lately and it got- destroyed by me yet she blamed it on herself and locked herself in her lab. I want to tell her. It didn't matter, I'm fine the way I'm- I want to tell her, She was too good to me with a gift."

Care to join me for some coffee?"

Sunday hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He carefully took a seat across from her and accepted the cup she offered. He brought it to his lips, taking a delicate sip. He had never been much of a coffee drinker, but he was determined to do everything with care, especially when he was around others.

Himeko watched him with a small smile, amused by how perfectly he handled the cup, almost as if he were performing a delicate ritual. "You're quite the gentleman," she remarked, a teasing note in her voice.

Sunday smiled softly, placing the cup down with a gentle touch. "Thank you, Himeko."

Himeko's expression softened "I see. You care about her."

Sunday's wings fluttered slightly, a sign of his affection. "Yes, I do. More than anything."

Himeko smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. "Well, when it comes to showing someone you care, it often helps to create something personal—something that shows you've put thought and effort into it. Many women appreciate things like perfume. It's something that can be very personal and intimate. Why not try creating one for them?"

Sunday tilted his head, considering her suggestion. "Perfume? I've never made anything like that before."

Himeko chuckled. "It doesn't have to be perfect. It's the thought and effort that count. You could experiment with different scents, find something that reminds you of them, or something you think they'd like."

Sunday nodded slowly, the idea starting to take shape in his mind. "I think I can do that," he said, a small smile forming on his lips. "I want to create something that will make them smile whenever they use it."

Himeko reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Sunday. And if you need any help or advice along the way, you know where to find me."

Sunday's smile grew, and he felt a sense of determination welling up inside him. "Thank you, Himeko. I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime," she replied with a wink, taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm sure whatever you create will be perfect."

 Sunday left the common area, his mind was buzzing with ideas about creating the perfect perfume for you. But as he wandered through the halls of the Astral Express, he realized he had no idea where to find the ingredients he needed. Just as he was contemplating where to start, Himeko appeared around the corner, as if sensing his uncertainty.

"Still thinking about the perfume, Sunday?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Sunday nodded, his wings fluttering slightly in anticipation. "Yes, but I'm not sure where to find the right ingredients. I want it to be perfect."

Himeko's smile widened, and she glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby before leaning in slightly. "You know, I happened to notice that they have a collection of raw ingredients in their lab. Scents, oils, things like that. I think you might find exactly what you need there."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise. "In their lab? But... wouldn't that be..."

Himeko chuckled softly. "A little sneaky? Perhaps. But it's for a good cause, don't you think? Besides, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if they knew what you were up to."

Sunday hesitated, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "But what if they catch me?"

Himeko shook her head, her tone reassuring. "They won't. In fact, I saw them earlier—fast asleep at their desk. They've been working so hard lately. I don't think they'll wake up anytime soon."

Sunday's heart softened at the thought of you asleep, exhausted from your work. The image made him even more determined to do something special for you. "If it's for them... I'll do it," he decided, his voice filled with resolve.

Himeko nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit. Just be quiet and careful, and you'll be fine. If you need any guidance, I'll be around."

With a grateful nod, Sunday made his way to your lab, his steps light and cautious. When he reached the door, he paused, taking a deep breath before quietly pushing it open. The room was dimly lit, and the soft sound of your breathing filled the space, confirming that you were indeed fast asleep.

He found you slumped over your desk, surrounded by scattered notes and books. The sight tugged at his heart—he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and carry you to bed, but he knew he needed to stay focused on his mission.

As quietly as he could, Sunday scanned the room, his eyes landing on a small shelf lined with bottles and jars of various oils and essences. Carefully, he approached the shelf, inspecting the labels in the dim light. He selected a few that he thought would work well together—something floral and sweet, with a hint of warmth that reminded him of you.

With the ingredients in hand, Sunday took one last look at you. A tender smile crossed his lips as he watched you sleep, your face peaceful in repose. He whispered softly, "I hope this makes you happy."

Then, as quietly as he had entered, he slipped out of the lab, closing the door gently behind him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he made his way back to his own space, eager to start experimenting with the ingredients he'd gathered. The thought of presenting you with a custom-made perfume, crafted with love and care, filled him with a sense of joy and anticipation.

Back in his room, Sunday set to work, carefully blending the oils and essences, testing different combinations until he found the perfect balance. The process was meticulous, and he poured his heart into every step, imagining how you might react when you received the finished product.

With the initial blend of oils and essences complete, Sunday carefully observed the perfume he had created. The scent was lovely, but something was missing—something that would make it uniquely yours. As he pondered, his gaze fell upon a small vial of a pink, glowing liquid he had picked up from your lab. He had been hesitant to use it, unsure of its effects, but now it seemed like the perfect finishing touch.

He uncorked the vial, the liquid inside shimmering with an almost ethereal light. As he brought it closer to his nose, he inhaled deeply, and the scent that wafted from it was intoxicating—sweet, floral, with a hint of something almost magical. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, he carefully added a few drops of the glowing liquid to the perfume.

As the pink liquid blended with the other ingredients, the mixture seemed to come alive. The perfume took on a soft, luminous glow, and the scent transformed into something utterly captivating. It was rich and complex, with layers of sweetness and warmth that reminded him of everything he loved about you. The fragrance was powerful, yet delicate, carrying an almost hypnotic allure that made his heart race.

Sunday smiled, pleased with the result. This was the perfect scent, something that felt as special as the person it was meant for. He wanted to present it to you in a way that reflected its beauty, so he turned his attention to finding the right bottle.

After searching through the small collection of items he had gathered over time, Sunday found a delicate glass spray bottle, adorned with intricate designs that shimmered when they caught the light. It was elegant and refined, just like the fragrance inside. He carefully poured the glowing perfume into the bottle, taking care not to spill a single drop.

Once the bottle was filled, Sunday stepped back to admire his work. The soft pink glow of the liquid inside contrasted beautifully with the ornate designs on the bottle, creating a mesmerizing effect. It was almost as if the perfume itself was alive, a manifestation of his feelings for you.

With the perfume complete, Sunday held the bottle in his hands, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. He couldn't wait to give it to you, to see the look on your face when you realized how much thought and care he had put into creating something just for you.

Now, all that was left was to find the perfect moment to present it. He knew it had to be special—just like the perfume and the feelings he had poured into it.

"I'll give it to her in the morning."

Sunday reached out to set the bottle on his nightstand, but it slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor.

"Oh no... I really did it this time..." His frown deepened as he gathered the shattered bottle.

"What's this?" He stared at the pink liquid now staining the floor, his eyes widening in sudden realization. "It can't be!"

The next morning, something felt off aboard the Express.

It was strange—Sunday hadn't come to wake you up. In fact, you were the one who woke up first. He didn't join in your usual morning routine, and when you knocked on his door, there was no answer. You tried opening it, only to find it locked from the outside.

Sunday never slept past lunchtime. And he never locked you out of his room.

Apprehension swirled inside you. Just as you were debating what to do, Stelle dashed toward you.

"Y/n! You finally came back from that devil's workshop!" she exclaimed, breathless.

"Pardon, Stelle! It's just... Sunday locked himself in his room, and I'm not sure what to do." You couldn't hide the worry in your voice as you noticed Stelle's eyes narrow.

"Locked himself in? That doesn't sound like him." You bit your lip, concerned.

"I'm worried. Some of my things are missing... I think he took them to try something. I even gave him access to my lab."

"I see..." Stelle nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly gripped her baseball bat. "If it won't open, then I'll break it down. Stand back!"

"STELLE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pom-Pom's voice rang out as they ran towards you, tiny legs moving as fast as they could. "Stop bullying my newest recruit!"

You sighed. "Sunday locked himself in. He's become 'sad-day.'"

"Let me call Himeko."

Before long, Himeko arrived, a slight smile on her face as she assessed the situation. "So, Sunday has locked his door, and you can't get in?"

"Yes..." You looked at her with hopeful eyes, knowing she'd have a solution. She reached into her coat pocket, producing a key with a soft clink.

"Luckily, his room has a lock that can be opened with a key. Here you go. I have a spare." She held it out to you with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you so much!" You cheered, though your tired eyes betrayed your exhaustion.

Himeko gently pulled Stelle away. "Come with me, Stelle. There's work to be done. Y/n, don't be too hard on him. He must have his reasons."

Himeko was right. Sunday must have his reasons. You unlocked the door with trembling hands.

"Sunday? I'm coming in."

The moment you stepped inside, a sweet fragrance overwhelmed your senses. Your eyes fell on Sunday, sprawled limply across his bed, his shirt half-buttoned, his breathing uneven.

"...Sunday!?"

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice. "What... are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry I came in without asking, but I was worried about you!"

"Please leave."

"What?"

"...I have a cold. I don't want you or the others to catch it. Leave me... alone."

Something was clearly wrong.

"I can't do that! Your face is all red!" You moved closer, pressing your hand against his forehead. His eyes shot open, and he gasped at your touch.

"See? You're burning up! You definitely have a fever!"

"You silly girl... I told you to leave me... alone." His voice was hoarse, and before you could react, he pulled you close, kissing you roughly.

"Hm!" You gasped, caught off guard as he kissed you again and again, desperation in every touch. You pushed him away, your heart racing.

As you did, your gaze fell on the room's mess—the missing vials, the scattered pink liquid... Realization dawned on you. "Aphrodisiac!? Why on earth...?" You stared at him in shock, still pinned beneath him on the bed. He let out a shuddering sigh, as if surrendering.

"I'm sorry... I lied to you."

"What?"

"I don't have a cold. I'm like this because of the aphrodisiac." He confessed, telling you how he had stolen things from your lab, how he accidentally added the pink liquid without checking the label. When the bottle shattered last night, he realized what it was.

"It's my fault... I wanted to make something for you, but I messed up."

"Shh, it's okay... But why did you want to make me something all of a sudden?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I dropped the vial you were working on. You panicked and spent the entire day trying to recreate it. When I saw you asleep at your desk, I felt so guilty... I wanted to make it up to you." His voice wavered as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself.

"...I'm sorry." You whispered, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you."

His gaze softened as he looked at you, his frustration giving way to something gentler. "It's fine... really. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You blinked, your breath hitching as his hand slid down, trailing along your arm before his fingers found their way under your hips. He gently lifted you, his touch warm against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never wanted to hurt you or make you worry like this."

His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, grazing the curve of your waist as he pulled you closer. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against your ear.

"Sunday..." you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, "Let me make it up to you... Please, just let me take care of you."

Before you could respond, his hands moved with more confidence, sliding under your hips and pulling you onto his lap. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric.

"You're always so kind, always thinking about everyone else... Let me be the one to take care of you this time," he breathed, his voice filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

His hands continued their exploration, fingers tracing the curve of your hips as he held you close, his touch both tender and possessive. Every movement was deliberate, slow, as if he wanted to savor every second, every reaction he coaxed out of you.

"Sunday..." you tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat as his lips found yours again, this time softer, more controlled, yet still filled with that same urgency.

You could feel him shifting beneath you, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips.

I want to be gentle and kind to you but at the same time I want to be rough and ravage you.." You felt your ears burn when you heard the pure need in his voice.

"But, I don't want you to hate me. I know it's pointless to say so now that I'm like this, Same as before, The first time we-" He let out a wry chuckle and stared deep into your eyes.

You could see the passionate desire for you in them.

"I'm not as in control as you think...So, Honestly...I want to make love more roughly to you than before. So you need to leave." Even now, he's trying to put your feelings before his..

But you couldn't leave him now, Instead you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

"I won't leave. I'm staying with you, Sunday.."

"Do you know what will happen if you stay? What I'll do to you?"

"I'm telling you, I'm not leaving! ...Hey.."

"What?" You cradled his face in your hands. "I know you always try to be gentle and kind to me, But, I wouldn't mind to see the another side of you." You pushed aside any shyness you felt and decided to go for it. "I want you to do whatever you want to me, I mean the effect will wore off faster this way. Medical approved."

"You're foolish woman, saying that to me at a time like this.." He let out a surprised chuckle and pulled you close. He kissed you deeply as his fingertips played with your earlobe.

"Ah!" You opened your mouth, immediately greeted by his hot tongue twining with yours. 'Is it okay, If I'm not gentle today?" He whispered in your ear and kissed your temples, your cheek and your neck before pinning you down to the bed.

But he did it rougher, more aggressive than usual.

"Ah! U-um!"

"What? Do you want me to stop?" He lifted his head to look at you putting his tongue's assault on your collarbones on a temporary hold. The forceful tone of his voice was slightly bewildering. But not one bit of you wanted him to stop.

"No.."

"Heh, Stubborn woman.." His smirk was wild and wicked as he began to unbuttoning your blouse. "But....I love that you.."

He pulled your shirt all the way up over your head, lifting both your arms with it. and then he wrapped the shirt tightly around your wrists.

"Wait, Sunday. I won't be able to move.."

"That's the point."

"You did it on pur-!" While you were protesting he'd loosened the lace of your bra strap and now yanked it off freeing your breasts to his hot gaze.

"Since it's bright in here I can see every bit of you so well...Darling.." He said with shush voice.

"Shh..Don't say that!" You arched your back when you felt his hand cupping your breasts, His thumb circling your nipples.

And then you felt his other hand touch your thigh. "I can't wait.."

He pushed your skirt up and you felt his breath on your thigh. He was just touching you and nothing else, your body was feverishly hot and you were panting.

All you want is for him to touch you more.. What's going on?

"Why are you making that face?"

"Because. My body feels strange.."

"The aphrodisiac started working on you too.." Sunday looked over at the door realizing that it wasn't locked. He let out a sigh if it were all for naught.

Meanwhile, your body got hotter..."Sunday. I'm so embarrassed.."

"Then I'll keep you busy you won't have time to be." After he tossed the shirt to the floor, he lifted up one of your legs, nuzzling you with his mouth.

You felt a sharp prick like teeth touch the soft flesh on your inner thigh. was he going to make you? You were surprised, but your body knew.

It knew that the pain only lasted a split-second to be followed by unimaginable ecstasy.

"You don't care what kind of dirty things we do as long we do it together right? Let yourself go..."

You automatically looked away, but he reached up and nudged your head back to look straight.

"Don't look away. I want you to watch what I'm doing to you." he whispered into your ear as he flicked your sensitive nipple with his fingertips.

Over and Over again.

His fingers danced across your sensitive bud, teasing and coaxing it to peak. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. As you met his intense gaze, he applied firmer pressure, rubbing circles around your clit until you writhed beneath him.

The room seemed to spin, your senses heightened by the potent drug coursing through your veins. Every touch, every whisper sent electric shocks of pleasure racing along your nerves. "Sunday, please..." you moaned, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the overwhelming need building inside you.

With a wicked grin, he slid two fingers inside you, stretching and filling you completely. Your walls clenched around the intrusion, slick with arousal. He pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep within you.

As he continued to tease your clit, you felt an odd sense of unease creeping over you. Something about the situation didn't sit right, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was. Despite your growing discomfort, your body responded eagerly to his touch, your hips grinding against his hand as he worked your sensitive nub.

"Wait, the door...it's unlocked," you managed to gasp out between moans, suddenly realizing the potential danger of being vulnerable like this. But before you could even contemplate moving to lock it, he shifted his attention back to your entrance, sliding his fingers deeper inside you.

His thumb pressed firmly against your clit once more, rubbing in tight circles that had you seeing stars. "Shh, don't worry about that now," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

Just as you were about to protest further, his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, silencing your words. The intensity of the embrace stole your breath away, leaving you helpless and pliant beneath him. When he finally broke the kiss, you were left panting, your mind reeling from the sudden onslaught of sensation.

I can't let you go, he whispered urgently, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. Not when I've got you just like this...so open and willing. His fingers continued their relentless pace, stroking and curling inside you as if trying to claim you utterly.

The sensation of being restrained only served to heighten your arousal, making your pussy clench around his probing fingers.

He leaned down then, his mouth hovering just inches from your throbbing clit. With a tantalizing slowness, he licked along your slit, savoring the taste of your arousal. Each lap of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

His tongue delved deeper, swirling around your clit and flicking against your sensitive bud. The dual assault of his fingers and tongue had you teetering on the edge of release, your entire body quivering with pent-up need.

His tongue continued its relentless exploration of your wet folds, lapping at your juices and circling your clit with precision. Each stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the brink.

As he lavished attention onto your swollen clit, he slid another finger inside you, stretching your tight walls even further. The combined sensations of his probing digits and teasing tongue had you writhing helplessly on the bed, desperate for some sort of relief.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you panting and whimpering in frustration. But before you could voice your displeasure, he moved lower, positioning himself between your spread thighs.

He grasped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he buried his face against your dripping sex. His tongue plunged deep inside you, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts that had you arching off the bed. The wet heat of his mouth engulfed your aching flesh, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive inner walls.

One hand snaked up to pinch and roll your nipple while the other found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the engorged bundle of nerves. The triple stimulation was almost too much to bear, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, your whole body tensing as wave after wave of pure bliss washed through you. You cried out his name, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth as he drank down your essence.

After bringing you to a shattering climax, he slowly kissed his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, taking turns to suckle and nip at your nipples. His fingers trailed down your stomach, tracing the curves of your belly before slipping back between your thighs.

Positioning himself at your entrance, he teased the tip of his cock against your still throbbing clit, coating it in your slick arousal. He watched your reactions intently, drinking in every twitch and moan as he toyed with your body.

Finally, he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by slow inch. The stretch was exquisite, your inner walls gripping him tightly as he filled you completely. He paused, allowing both of you time to adjust to his size, before starting to move.

Each thrust was deliberate and deep, designed to hit all the right spots inside you.

He began to move, setting a rhythm that was both torturous and perfect. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming warmth, his cock sliding effortlessly against your sensitive inner walls. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he continued to pound into you. The dual assault of his cock and his demanding mouth had you spiraling towards another climax. Your hands clawed at the sheets, seeking purchase as he fucked you relentlessly.

"Look at me," he growled against your lips, pulling back just enough to demand your full attention. His eyes burned with raw lust as he watched your face contort with pleasure, each expression etched into his memory.

With a guttural groan, he picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless tempo. Every thrust hit just right, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, a sure sign that he was close to his own release.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see you fall apart underneath me." His hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you to meet his thrusts, ensuring that every inch of his length rubbed against your most sensitive spot.

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped. A scream tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, your inner muscles clamping down on his cock in powerful spasms.

As your orgasm rocked through you, he felt your walls flutter and clench around his pulsating cock. It was all the encouragement he needed, pushing him over the edge. With a roar of satisfaction, he buried himself deep inside you, his hot seed spilling forth as he came undone.

Collapsing atop you, he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His body trembled with aftershocks, his cock throbbing inside you as he rode out the last waves of his climax.

As you lay there basking in the afterglow, a sudden realization dawned upon you - the door remained unlocked, leaving you vulnerable should anyone decide to barge in. Before you could voice your concern, he began trailing kisses along your neck, his lips soft and insistent against your skin.

"Do not worry about the door," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Nothing will tear me away from you now. Ignore everything else; focus solely on this moment."

His words were like a soothing balm, easing your worries and melting away any lingering tension. As he continued his sensual assault on your neck, you felt yourself relaxing fully into his embrace, content to let the world fade away. There would be plenty of time to deal with the practicalities later; for now, you surrendered to the passion igniting between you once more.

Despite your best efforts to remind him about the unlocked door, he simply ignored your pleas, instead focusing his attentions on your sensitive neck. His lips traced lazy patterns across your skin, sending delicious tingles shooting down your spine. Each gentle kiss drew a soft moan from your lips, distracting you from your initial concerns.

"You're so beautiful when you moan," he whispered huskily, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Let's not waste this precious moment worrying about anything else." His hands roamed over your body, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts and tweaking your hardened nipples.

With every touch, every kiss, you found yourself forgetting about the outside world. All that mattered was the warm, solid weight of him pressed against you, the tantalizing brush of his lips against your neck, and the overwhelming sensation of sheer bliss enveloping you.

As he continued to lavish attention on your neck, he couldn't help but notice the profound sense of happiness that washed over him whenever he held you close. It was as if the very presence of your warm, supple body against his own ignited a spark within his soul, filling him with an unexplainable joy.

He pulled back slightly, gazing down at you with adoration shining in his eyes. "You have no idea how wonderful it feels to hold you like this," he confessed, his voice tinged with emotion. "Every curve, every breath, every beat of your heart... it all makes me incredibly happy."

His thumbs brushed tenderly over your cheeks, wiping away any remaining traces of worry or stress. In their place, he left behind a soft, loving smile, one that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you.

The muffled giggles grew louder, you could hear the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. Fear gripped your heart, but before you could even consider bolting for cover, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

"Don't worry," he reassured you, his voice low and steady. "Just relax and enjoy this." With deft movements, he guided you onto his lap, positioning you so that his throbbing member slid easily inside you. The sensation was incredible, a welcome distraction from the approaching sounds.

His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you began to rock against him. The rhythmic motion, combined with the sound of laughter growing closer, had you surrendering completely to the moment. It wasn't long before you found yourself lost in the pleasure, oblivious to anything but the intense sensations coursing through your body.

You felt him moving beneath you, the rhythm of his thrusts matching perfectly with the rising excitement within you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Seeing him so content, so fulfilled, filled you with a warmth that spread throughout your entire being.

"Sunday."

"Hm?"

"Please," you pleaded softly, looking into his eyes. "Kiss me again."

Without hesitation, he complied, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss. It was tender and gentle, yet packed with a depth of emotion that left you breathless. The taste of him, the feeling of his lips moving against yours – it was intoxicating.

In that moment, you realized that you didn't care about the laughter getting closer, the potential intrusion of others. All that mattered was this man, this moment, and the indescribable pleasure that he was coaxing from your very core.

The sounds of laughter faded away, both of you succumbed to exhaustion, falling into a peaceful slumber entwined in each other's arms. Even in sleep, his protective instincts remained strong, his large frame shielding you from any potential disturbance.

Hours passed, and as you stirred awake, you noticed his hand gently stroking your skin, cleaning away any remnants of sweat or fluids from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he were worshipping every inch of you.

Occasionally, he would lean in to press soft kisses against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. These gentle caresses served as a reminder of the intimate bond you shared, a physical manifestation of the love and desire that burned brightly between you.

Wrapped in his embrace, surrounded by his comforting presence, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply satisfied.

You opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the disarray of the room, the clothes strewn haphazardly, the sheets twisted and tangled around your legs. Then there was the feeling of emptiness, a void where his body once occupied.

Slowly, you sat up, stretching out your limbs and wincing at the slight ache that radiated from your thighs. Sunday morning sunlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows across the room and illuminating the state of undress you found yourself in.

A rush of embarrassment flooded your senses as reality set in. What had you done? Who had you done it with?

The door! You scrambled off the bed, reaching for the robe discarded on the floor. Your fingers brushed against something warm and hard, causing you to freeze. There, nestled between your legs, lay his thick, pulsing cock.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise coming from the bed behind you. You turned to see him emerge from under the covers, hastily pulling the sheets up to his chin to conceal his nudity. His face was flushed, and his eyes darted nervously between you and the door, as if he feared an intruder might burst in at any moment.

"I...I can explain," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "It just...happened. We got carried away..."

Despite the initial shock and embarrassment, a sudden wave of mirth washed over you. The absurdity of the situation, the ridiculousness of trying to hide his naked form under a thin sheet, struck you as hilarious. Before you knew it, peals of laughter spilled from your lips, echoing through the room.

"It's okay!" you managed to gasp out between giggles. "You don't have to hide. In fact, you did more than great - you were amazing!"

Your laughter seemed to break the tension, and soon enough, he joined in, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he let the sheet fall away. The sight of his bare torso, glistening with sweat from their activities, only made you laugh harder.

"You're one to talk," he retorted playfully, gesturing to your own nude form.

The laughter subsided, you found yourselves grinning at each other, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared amusement. The air was charged with a new energy, a palpable tension that hinted at the possibilities that lay ahead.

He reached out, his fingers tracing lightly along your collarbone before drifting down to cup your breast. His touch sent sparks racing through your veins, reigniting the flames of desire that had been simmering all along.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "we should probably get dressed before we attract any unwanted attention..."

But even as he spoke, his hand continued its exploration, kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh until you were arching into his touch, craving more. The promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing prospect that left you breathless and wanting.

His hands roamed over your curves, he pulled you close, pressing his lips against your forehead in a tender, lingering kiss. "We have all day," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "No need to rush things."

With that, he guided you towards the bed, pushing you gently onto the mattress. The soft pillows cradled your head as he loomed above you, his muscular physique casting a shadow over your prone form.

His eyes bore into yours, searching, questioning. "Tell me about your past," he said, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern. "What brought you here?"

When Sunday asks about your past, you hesitate for a moment before deciding to share the story that shaped you.

"Even from my childhood, I was always... different," you begin, the memories flooding back. "My mother, with her delicate features and vibrant green hair, carried me for ten long months. She barely had time to name me and give me this golden earring before she died right after I was born."

You pause, touching the earring that still hangs from your ear, a constant reminder of the mother you never knew. "I spoke my first words moments after birth. It shocked everyone in the room. My father, once a renowned apothecary, raised me alone. He was a good parent... at first."

Your voice lowers as the memories darken. "But then he fell ill, struck by some unknown disease that made him miserable. The medicine I prepared for him had side effects, ones that twisted his mind. He started hitting me. I got used to it. I even pitied him because I knew it wasn't really him—just the illness and the medicine."

You look away, eyes distant. "But on my 9th birthday, after another round of abuse, I made a decision. I told myself that humans are ridiculous and ugly. I decided then that I would make humanity evolve so they wouldn't have to become... what my father became."

You pause, your tone growing colder. "That was the last birthday I ever spent at home."

You continue, the weight of your past heavy on your mind, but you push through, knowing that Sunday needs to understand.

"I couldn't stay there any longer, not after that day," you say, your voice steady despite the painful memories. "So, I ran away. I didn't know where I was going, just that I needed to escape. That's when I found the Astral Express."

Your expression softens slightly at the thought. "Himeko was the first person I met. She's been taking care of me ever since I arrived. It felt different—everything did. Like a new beginning, a chance to start over. But even with that, I always felt... different. Not just from the others on the Express, but from everything."

You look down at your hands, recalling the small creatures you've tried to befriend. "I've always liked small animals, but they're scared of me. I don't blame them. There's something about me that even I can't quite understand. No one on the Express really likes or dislikes me. I'm just... there, and they don't know what to make of me. I've always been weird, and I knew that. But things started to change."

You smile, though it's tinged with a hint of sadness. "Himeko, Welt, Stelle, Dan Heng, March... They found me weird, too. But they didn't push me away. Instead, they tried to understand me. And through them, especially Himeko, I began to realize something. Maybe humans aren't as ugly as I once thought."

Your eyes meet Sunday's, a faint glimmer of hope in them. "It's still hard for me to fully believe, but they've shown me a different side of humanity. One that's worth understanding, worth... evolving for."

You chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood after sharing so much of yourself. "You know," you say with a playful glint in your eye, "my birthday is right after Monday."

Sunday's eyes light up with excitement, his enthusiasm almost contagious. But you quickly shake your head, the smile on your lips fading. "But honestly, I don't care about it. I've always hated my birthday. What's the point in celebrating something when there's no one to wish you well? No birthday wishes, no reason to celebrate... it's just another day."

Before he can respond, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the moment tender despite the heavy words. When you pull back, you give him a teasing smile. "So, what do you say? Are you joining me for a bath?"

He hesitates, his expression a mix of emotions, but he eventually nods, though there's a trace of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah... I'll join you," he says, his voice soft.

As the two of you head towards the bath, Sunday can't help but think to himself, determination building in his heart. He wanted to give you the perfect gift, something that would make you see your birthday differently, something that would make you feel truly celebrated for the first time in your life.

As the two of you make your way to the bath, you notice that Sunday seems unusually quiet, deep in thought. You both settle into the warm water, the steam rising around you, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Sunday finally breaks the silence, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression.

"So... do you ever talk about your birthday with anyone else on the Astral Express?" he asks, trying to sound casual but clearly curious.

You lean back, the warmth of the water soothing your tense muscles. "Not really," you admit, your tone light. "I mean, what's there to talk about? It's just another day. Besides, I doubt they even know when my birthday is."

Sunday frowns slightly, as if the idea of you being forgotten like that bothers him. "You never told Himeko or anyone?"

You shake your head. "Nope. It's not something I like to think about, so I don't see the point in bringing it up. They've got enough to deal with anyway."

Sunday looks down, his brow furrowed in thought. "But... don't you want to change that? Maybe this year could be different."

You give him a small smile, though there's a hint of sadness in your eyes. "Maybe. But honestly, Sunday, I've never really had a reason to celebrate it. The idea of just letting it pass by feels... easier. Besides, I've never really known what it feels like to have a birthday that matters."

After the bath, Sunday finds himself lying awake in bed, thoughts swirling in his mind. The idea of making your upcoming birthday special sticks with him, and he can't shake it. He picks up his phone, hesitating for a moment before deciding to act.

He opens the Astral Express group chat and creates a new group, adding everyone from the crew. As the notifications start popping up on their devices, 

Sunday's fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he typed out a message.

March texts you!

March texts sunday!

After that, Things were down-hill. Suddenly, Out of nowhere The Astral Express stopped at the location you thought you'll never see again.

Your home. The Planet of ????????

You didn't feel disturbed tho, You just spend time with Sunday in you room, locked up. While the others were working hard on something.

Sunday would leave and come back, usually late at nights and March and Himeko suddenly took your measurement for custom clothes they said.

He looked bothered, You didn't understand why.

Today, You understood.

Wake up, Y/n! You're getting married that's your birthday!

Wedding gowns of various styles are displayed before you, each one more stunning than the last. But there's no sense of excitement or blooming flowers in your mind, just a quiet unease.

The assistant beside you is practically bubbling over with enthusiasm as she holds up gown after gown, her voice chirping with excitement.

"Look at this one with a boat neck and diamonds! It's the latest fashion this year! Or how about this one-shoulder gown? It's dreamy without being too flamboyant. And this fishtail dress? It's perfect for your figure! Your lover will fall head over heels all over again when they see you in it!"

"What's wrong with my current figure?" you ask, staring at her with a look that's meant to convey confusion, but it must come off as something more intimidating.

The assistant's eyes widen as she stammers, "N-Nothing! You look amazing as you are! I just meant... well, do you want your husband to help you decide? Or would you rather keep it a surprise?"

"Husband? Who said he's my husband already?" You can't help the choke in your voice, the words catching in your throat.

"I'm sorry! I just assumed... I mean, it is your wedding day, after all! But I suppose it's a bit sudden... planning everything in just a day—"

"The Astral Express can handle anything. But now I see—this is my birthday gift. I thought March was joking... but I didn't expect him to agree so easily. It's only been a few weeks, and here we are..." You trail off, realizing you're venting to a complete stranger.

The assistant blinks, then smiles warmly. "Oh my! Don't worry about it. I married my husband on our first date, knew within a day he was the one. We're still together, though I wouldn't recommend it to just anyone. The world's a strange place."

"Indeed... maybe not everyone." You sigh, trying to shake off the anxiety. "Alright, I'll keep it a secret." You decide you're not ready to let Sunday see you like this just yet, and you pull the curtain of the fitting room closed to change.

In just a few moments, you'll go from Miss Y/n to Mrs. L/n. Dan Heng mentioned that Sunday was going to take your last name.

Life's a strange thing. Life's funny! Life's fun! Life's stressful, overrated, and pretty damn good all at once. It's enough to make you nervous.

A slice of romance wasn't something you expected, let alone marriage. But here it is, staring you in the face.

You feel like a puppet in a play orchestrated by the whims of the Astral Express.

And Sunday... he's your gift, your surprise. Maybe by this, you'd... never mind.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you could hardly believe the girl in the wedding gown and veil was you. It felt surreal, like a dream you might wake up from at any moment. The delicate lace of the gown hugged your figure perfectly, and the veil draped over your shoulders with an ethereal softness.

Himeko, satisfied with her work, set down the comb she had been using to adjust your hair. She leaned in close, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't be nervous, Sunday will definitely be satisfied with how you look now."

"I-I'm not nervous..." you stammered, trying to laugh it off, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you. Thank the stars that Sunday wasn't here to see you like this—so vulnerable, so uncertain.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a knock echoed through the room. His voice followed, calm and composed.

"Miss Himeko, I have the item with me."

Himeko straightened up, giving you a reassuring smile before heading toward the door. "Just a moment, I'm coming..."

You turned around nervously, but Himeko gently but firmly guided you back to face the mirror. "Be good and don't move. The bride and groom cannot see each other in advance."

"We're not—" you started to protest, but Himeko was already at the door.

Left alone with your reflection, a sudden wave of anger and frustration washed over you. You glared at the mirror, willing the anxiety to disappear. But as you stared, your eyes widened in shock. The girl in front of you—dressed in a wedding gown, veil perfectly arranged—was you. But it didn't feel like you. It was like looking at a stranger, a version of yourself you hardly recognized.

Just then, the door burst open, and March 7th, Dan Heng, and Stelle rushed in, all talking at once.

"Y/n, you look amazing!"

"You'll be fine, really—"

"Wow, I can't believe—"

Their voices blended together, and before you could even register what was happening, your body acted on instinct. Startled by the sudden intrusion, you flinched—and your fist shot out, connecting squarely with March's face.

Time seemed to freeze as March stumbled back, holding her nose with a look of pure shock. The room went dead silent, everyone staring at you in a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Oh my lord, March! I'm so sorry!" you blurted out, horrified at what you'd done. But the confusion, the nerves, the overwhelming rush of emotions—it was all too much.

March, ever the trooper, waved it off, though she was still rubbing her nose. "No worries, Y/n! I get it, big day jitters and all... but wow, you pack a punch!"

Dan Heng and Stelle exchanged glances, trying to suppress their smile. 

You manage to compose yourself, though the embarrassment is still evident on your face. Trying to lighten the mood, you mumble, "You know, March... maybe you deserved that punch."

March 7th's eyes widen in mock horror, but then she sticks her tongue out at you playfully. Before you can react, she suddenly lunges forward, pinching both of your cheeks between her fingers. "You're just too cute, Y/n!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

"March, stop—ow!" you protest, your voice muffled by her hands, but she's too busy cooing over you to pay any attention.

"Oh, you're so adorable when you're flustered! I just have to capture this moment!" March chirps, pulling out her phone with one hand while still holding your cheeks with the other.

"March, no—" you start, but she's already snapped a selfie, your squished cheeks and wide eyes making you look more like a startled chipmunk than a bride-to-be.

March giggles at the photo, clearly pleased with herself, while you groan in exasperation. Dan Heng and Stelle, however, are less amused, giving her identical deadpan looks.

"Alright, that's enough," Stelle says, her tone firm but lighthearted. She and Dan Heng exchange a knowing glance, and before March can protest, Stelle and Dan Heng each take an arm, gently dragging her out of the room.

"Wait, I'm not done—Y/n still looks so cute!" March protests, laughing as she's pulled away, but she doesn't put up much of a fight.

As the door closes behind them, the room falls quiet again. You let out a sigh of relief, rubbing your sore cheeks. But then you notice Dan Heng is still standing there, his expression unusually soft, with a small, strange smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he says slowly, almost as if he's choosing his words carefully, "you really do look pretty, Y/n."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a warmth spread across your face that has nothing to do with March's earlier pinching. It's rare to see Dan Heng show this side of himself, and the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

You manage a small smile in return, feeling a mix of emotions you can't quite name. "Thanks, Dan Heng."

He nods, the strange smile lingering a moment longer before he turns to leave, giving you a moment of privacy to collect yourself before the ceremony.

The door closed.

Because of this door was opened just a little. You couldn't see Sunday and could only hear a bit from time to time. Probably, because he couldn't hold back his curiosity or simply because he wanted to inspect, He opened for a moment, but Himeko closed it immediately.

"You, Young people why are you so impatient?"

"I'm..not- I'm just worried about Y/n and want to make sure nothing's going wrong."

"I'm here and nothing will be wrong, just wait outside." You weren't sure whether Sunday saw you or not. You only knew the nervousness in your heart had transformed into a feeling complicated.

For a while, you couldn't tell whether you wanted him to see you or not.

You felt the only person who could calm the restless and disturbed you down was him. As if feeling your nervousness, he came back before going far. This time he didn't push the door open. He just knocked.

"Relax, When you get nervous, you make weird faces." You couldn't hear his voice clearly through this door, but it really calmed you down.

"Only he can calm you down. You're finally smiling." Himeko teased you as she opened a small jewelry box she just received. There was a simple ring in it.

"This is..?"

"Why do people exchange rings?"

"Oh."

"Sunday said that this ring was something precious to him. I think it's sentiment, maybe it's his mother's ring who knows. I am keeping it for safe guard."

"I see.."

The church bells rang twelve times, marking the moment you'd been both dreading and anticipating. You could hear the soft hum of voices and the rustle of fabric as the guests settled into their seats. Sunday, just beyond the carved wooden gates, gave a slight cough as he straightened his bow tie one last time, ensuring everything was in place. His cheeks were slightly flushed with nervous anticipation.

He hesitated before speaking, his voice almost shy. "Mr. Yang, can I ask for a request?"

Welt turned toward him, his expression curious but kind. "Yes, Sunday? Is something the matter?"

Sunday shifted his weight, glancing down the hallway as if gathering his thoughts. "Could you... would you be willing to walk Y/n down the aisle? I don't want her to feel alone, and after hearing some things about her past... I think it would make her feel better."

Welt's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he nodded. "Like a father figure?" He looked down, lost in thought for a moment, as if reminiscing about something. Then, with a warmth in his voice, he agreed, "Of course, Sunday. I'd be honored."

Meanwhile, in the room where you were getting ready, your hands trembled as you held the crown, your mind a whirl of emotions. The crown slipped from your fingers, rolling down the length of your gown, and your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively bent down to retrieve it. But Himeko was quicker, her hand darting out to catch it before it hit the floor.

"The crown," you murmured, but Himeko just smiled, lifting it back into place.

"You look beautiful, Y/n," she said softly, her voice full of pride. "Stop worrying. You're perfect."

"I'm not nervous!" you protested weakly, though the blush on your cheeks told a different story. Your reflection in the mirror betrayed you—a girl in a pure white wedding gown, hair elegantly tied up, with a veil dotted with delicate flowers draped over your bare shoulders. Just like you had imagined as a little girl. That girl was you.

Himeko stood behind you, carefully fixing the diamond-studded crown on your head. She met your eyes in the mirror, her smile warm and encouraging. "There, all done. Now, it's time for our perfect bride to meet her groom. I'm proud of you."

Your mind was too full of thoughts to respond immediately, so you simply stared at your reflection, the reality of the moment finally settling in.

Himeko didn't give you time to overthink. She gently pulled you up from your seat, guiding you toward the door where the noise from the ceremony just beyond it filtered through. She hummed the Wedding March under her breath as she opened the door, and in that instant, a flurry of ribbons and petals rained down in celebration, filling the air with color and joy.

You blinked in surprise as Welt Yang appeared at the threshold, standing tall with a gentle expression. He extended his arm to you with a smile, his eyes kind and reassuring.

"Y/n," he began, his voice steady and comforting, "I'd be honored to walk you down the aisle, if you'll allow me. As a father figure... if that's alright with you."

For a moment, you could only stare at him in stunned silence, your mind reeling. The offer was unexpected, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart swell with gratitude. You'd never imagined having this kind of support today, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone had filled you with dread.

But now, with Welt offering to stand beside you, the anxiety in your chest seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and reassurance. Slowly, you nodded, your expression softening as you accepted his arm.

Welt's smile widened, and he gave a small, approving nod in return. "Then let's not keep everyone waiting, shall we?" he said, his tone light yet full of affection.

 you linked your arm with his, the doors to the ceremony opened fully, and the room beyond was revealed in all its splendor. The guests turned to look at you, their eyes bright with anticipation. The sight of Sunday waiting for you at the end of the aisle made your heart flutter, but with Welt beside you, each step felt steadier, more certain.

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Welt, the reality of the moment began to sink in. The grandeur of the ceremony was almost overwhelming, 

As you neared the end of the aisle, your eyes were drawn to Sunday. He stood tall and handsome, his posture confident but his eyes betraying the nervous anticipation that mirrored your own. He was dressed impeccably, his suit perfectly tailored, the subtle gleam of his cufflinks catching the light. But it was his expression that held your attention—a look of pure admiration mixed with a hint of disbelief, as if he couldn't quite fathom that this moment was real.

You stared at him, unable to look away, your heart pounding in your chest. Sunday met your gaze, his eyebrows raised slightly as if surprised by your reaction, but then he smiled softly. It was a smile that spoke volumes—comfort, affection, and a silent promise that everything was going to be okay. His eyes never left yours, grounding you in the here and now, making the world around you fade away.

But even as you basked in the warmth of his smile, your thoughts drifted to someone who wasn't there. Your eyes searched the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister, Robin. You had hoped she would come, to stand by her brother's side on such an important day. But she was nowhere to be seen.

A pang of sadness tugged at your heart, not just for yourself, but for Sunday. You knew how much he had wanted Robin to be there, how much it would have meant to him. The absence of his sister was a heavy weight, a shadow on what should have been a perfect day.

As you reached the altar, Sunday extended his hand to you, and you took it, feeling the warmth of his touch. For a moment, you hesitated, the sadness in your chest still lingering. But Sunday, ever perceptive, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His smile remained, unwavering, as if to say that despite everything, this was still your moment—your day, together.

Welt gently released your arm, stepping back with a nod of approval. You and Sunday stood face to face, the world falling away until it was just the two of you. His eyes searched yours.

Your eyes met Sunday's, You saw a flash of amazement. His lips moved a little but only called your name after a while.

"Y/n.."

You met his golden eyes that reflected you. He held your hand more tightly, then leaned in and whispered in your ears.

"I'm with you, Everything will be okay."

The wedding March was playing...You tried to ignore the heat on your face which was caused by Sunday's leaning close to you, and you even wanted to rub your itchy ears. You held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other tightly gripped by him. You could see the irrepressible smile at the corner of his lips, just like you at the moment.

The priest smiled kindly at you and Sunday, then started according to the lines.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here, today in the presence of these witnesses to join Sunday and Y/n in matrimony..." The priest spoke seriously and slowly. As you were listening nervously, you felt your palms being scratched.

You glanced at Sunday standing next to you, but he looked composed.

"....I would be asking who gives this woman to be married to this man"

After the priest finished asking, Sunday immediately turned to look at you, his eyes full of expectation, as if they were glowing. Like the sun.... You forgot you existed for a moment.

He was pretty, He was really pretty, It was a smile you saw back when he was trying to befriend you.

You remembered the embarrassing line. Facing Sunday's scorching gaze, your voice became softer and softer.

"..I am marrying him at my own free will, with the blessings of all people."

"Now the groom can take the oath." Hearing this, you tried to withdraw your right hand clenched by Sunday but failed, so you could only lower your eyes to avoid his gaze.

"I take you to be my wedded wife.." The sounds from above your head was more serious than ever. Your heart was racing.

Before the oath was finished, Sunday stopped, and remained silent for the next two seconds.

You raised your eyes, astonished, but was caught off guard and got immersed in the gentle golden eyes of his.

He looked at you gently, and the sincerity and tenderness in his eyes were enough to seize anyone who was gazed by him.

"Y/n, from now on, I'll forever love and cherish you, and you will always be my everything." He was solemnly giving you the promise of a lifetime.

A light kiss fell on the back, and the touch like a thin feather penetrated the thin fabric and directly reached the bottom of your heart.

The moment hung in the air, charged with emotion as Sunday's soft kiss on the back of your hand sent a shiver down your spine. The sincerity in his voice echoed in your mind, each word he spoke wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. You felt as if time itself had slowed, the world narrowing to just the two of you standing before the altar.

The priest, sensing the significance of the moment, gave a gentle nod before continuing, his voice steady and filled with reverence. "And now, Y/n," he began, his gaze meeting yours, "do you take Sunday to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

The question was the one you had been anticipating, yet now that it was here, it felt monumental, as if the weight of those words carried all the hopes and dreams you and Sunday had ever shared.

You felt your pulse quicken, your hand still tightly held by Sunday's warm grasp. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mixture of love, hope, and something deeper—an unspoken bond that had been forged through all the trials and joys you had faced together.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a deep breath, allowing the significance of the moment to settle into your bones. You looked up at Sunday, meeting his golden eyes that reflected nothing but pure affection.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady and clear despite the emotions swirling inside you. "I do."

The words left your lips with a sense of finality, yet also with the promise of new beginnings. As they echoed through the space, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and certainty wash over you. This was where you were meant to be, by Sunday's side, forever.

The priest smiled warmly at your response and then turned his attention to Sunday. "And do you, Sunday, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

Sunday's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you saw his expression soften even more. He didn't hesitate, didn't waver.

"I do," he answered, his voice filled with a quiet, yet unshakable resolve. The conviction in his words was as solid as the ground beneath your feet, anchoring you both in this pivotal moment.

The priest nodded, satisfied with the exchange of vows. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Sunday's eyes lit up with a joy that was almost childlike, a smile spreading across his face that you couldn't help but mirror. He stepped closer, gently lifting your veil as the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his feelings, he cupped your face in his hands, leaning in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away if you weren't ready.

But you were ready. More than anything, you wanted to seal this moment, this promise, with him.

When his lips finally met yours, it was like everything else faded away. The kiss was soft, full of love and warmth, a perfect culmination of everything you both had felt up to this point. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a vow, a declaration that you were each other's, now and forever.

As you pulled away, the applause of the guests filled the air, but all you could focus on was Sunday's face, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

Your gaze drifted downward, your hands still resting in Sunday's. The day had been a whirlwind, everything happening so quickly that it felt almost surreal. And yet, amidst all the chaos, there was a quiet moment of clarity. Today was your birthday, a day that had always been marked by personal reflection, by considering the passage of time and the paths taken. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that it would also become your wedding day.

The thought brought a soft smile to your lips. This was the greatest gift you could have received, something far beyond material value. It was a gift of love, of commitment, of a future that you and Sunday would build together. Maybe you would start to see this day differently from now on, not just as a celebration of another year gone by, but as a celebration of the life you were creating with him.

You glanced back up at Sunday, who was watching you with a gentle, curious expression, as if he could sense the shift in your thoughts. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you in the present moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence chase away any lingering doubts. "I'm more than okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... happy."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "Good. That's all I ever wanted for you."

You clenched the gauze on the gown unconsciously, forgetting what you should say. Everything around seemed to disappear, leaving only you both!

Sunday wore a silver-gray suit and a bow tie which he seldom wore. He had a corset at the left side of his shirt.

"Actually.." He whispered in your ear. "Although I really want to control myself and act more mature and reliable. I have to say You look beautiful today. I don't have to control these feelings anymore. I feel free so....Is this the real meaning of freedom?" His straightforward compliment and warm breath in your ears was like soft leather. slowly and gently tickling your heart.

"This wedding gown is a signature design, It was given free for the Astral Express for this day and I guess I can keep it."

"I'm not talking about the wedding gown." Sunday shook his head, and squeezed your palm, as if venting his anger.

"The point is you look so beautiful in a wedding gown than I imagined."

"Stop exaggerating!"

"I'm not!" He denied seriously, his tone affirmative, which sounded like a little lost child denying he stole sugar.

"Y/n, you should compliment me too...Even Stelle said I'm handsome, Is there any problem? Is the tie too much? Is my face good? Do I look clean? Um-"

"You, You look more than perfect today, You're always perfect but today you're....more than perfect.." You patted his head.

That's it, Your Blushing Sunday has returned! his wings covered his face and he showed a thumbs up.

"Time to photoshoot!" March chimed in, pulling you aside.

Sunday muttered discontent, looking for comfort from you. Outside the church, the lucid water of the fountain pool reflected the white and the clear sky and the verdant lawn stretched to the edge of the woods.

"Y/n!, Stay where you're, Sunday, stand behind her and lift her veil.." With the previous emotions still lingering in your mind, you followed the camerawoman's instructions and posed for intimate wedding photo with Sunday awkwardly.

March was the 'camerawoman' you knew you won't last long.

"Come closer! Closer!" March kept gesturing and kept repeating the word 'closer' which made you a bit alarmed.

"Like this?" Sunday held you in his arms from behind, resting his shin on your shoulder, and the moment his face touched yours through the veil, you trembled.

All your senses were occupied by his warmth and breath. Your heartbeat was so fast that you nearly had a heart attack.

"Y/n, don't be so stiff! Act naturally, just like before." You nodded, trying to force a smile, you knew how stiff your expression was even without looking.

"Are you nervous?" You heard Sunday's soft voice and didn't deny it after slight hesitation.

"A, a little bit. Not much." But actually even your voice was trembling. "

Actually, I'm also a bit nervous." He sighed with relief, and the rising tone dispelled and the unnatural atmosphere between you. "But, knowing you're feeling the same, I'm not so nervous now." He pointed at himself and smiled his usual bright smile.

"You can think of me as a little bear hugging you. You never have to nervous in front of me." You were stunned. the camera in front of you seemed not to exist, and the arms around you were still warm as always.

The awkwardness and uneasiness seemed to be swept away. and you couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Yeah, just keeping being happy like this! I believe you can do it, Y/n!"

Amazingly, the tension and anxiety disappeared.

"That's it!  Change a pose!" You glanced behind you. The blue fountain pool reflected the pure white church, and the golden decoration on the steeple stone in the sunlight. You looked back to find Sunday was sitting cross-legged on the grass, smiling at you.

The bouquet of roses was on him and light spots seemed to be dancing on his fluffy blue hair. Suddenly you naughtily decided to scatter a handful of lily petals on him.

"Hey y/n!  What are you doing!" He widened his eyes, yelled and before you could dodge, he had gently caught your naughty fingers.

The spring sunlight sprinkled softly, and your laughter seemed to blend into beauty of spring. When you didn't notice, March had captured the scene under the sunlight.

The bell in the church suddenly rang, and the fountain spurted water into his air, which started the pigeons resting by the pool. The water drops on the grass reflected the brilliant sunlight, and the whole scene was captured in the last photo.

March nodded and was finally satisfied.

"My lady, shall we go somewhere together?"

Sunday reached out a hand and made an inviting gesture, his jewel-like staring straight at you. you couldn't refuse.

You raised your hands and tossed the bouquet that symbolized happiness randomly.

It landed on Mr. Yang's head and he caught it. March howled. Himeko giggled Stelle took a photo Dan Heng was trying to hold his smile.

Welt tossed it to another young lady, saying he's already married in a secret code. It attracted a bunch of shouts and laughter,

"Let's go!" You smiled and put your hand in Sunday's palm, only to see him wink at you.

"Y/n, hold onto me."

"What? Ahhh!" Before you could ask, you felt your feet suddenly lifted off the ground. you screamed and had to hold onto the 'culprit' tightly.

As if he had already guessed your reacting , Sunday smiled and set off towards the destination, his soft wings brushing your cheeks naughtily from time to time.

"Wait, I do have legs."

Hearing the burst of laughter behind you, you blushed, waving your arms to protest. But Sunday, who always left room for negotiation was very determined this time.

"It's hard to walk in high heels on this road, So please be patient!" He had no intention on putting down and walked up the gravel path all the way through the flower gates with you. The soft light spots and the shadows of the flowers fell on both from time to time. and the warm breeze gently brought the music from afar.

Sunday who had you in his arms also hummed the tune and his version of the romantic self. So, that was the book he was reading..?

You both finally arrived at the destination. Sunday stopped and put you under the flower rack. Following where he pointed, you could see green mountains surrounding a tranquil blue lake in the distance.

The white birds swept past the sparkling water surface, and then flew high in the wind into the sky.

"It's so beautiful.." It reminded of something else, Sorry y/n! This is not that game!

Involuntarily exclaiming, you turned around to look at Sunday who was sitting side by side with you on the grass.

"Did you bring me here to show me this?"

"Not just this." He mysteriously dragged his tone.

"It's also because...this is the best place for the 'bride' and 'groom'."

"I'm not Dr Mei tho."

"What?"

"Nothing." He spread his arms and leaned back, lying on your lap before you could react, The weight and warmth on your legs were so real that you couldn't help looking down at him, the veil that slipped from your shoulders dropped on his face.

"Oh." Seeing his serious look turning into a frown, you burst into laughter and reached out to lift the veil.

Before you even touched his face, he grasped your hand and your fingers tightly intertwined. Sunday lifted the veil gently and gazed at you intently with his golden eyes, you could see your reflection in his eyes, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/n, did you enjoy the day?" You were stunned by his serious expression and couldn't control your heartbeat from accelerating upon hearing his question. You were at loss and tried to avert his gaze.

The flower fragrance lazily lingered in the air. In the warm sunshine, in the small space under the veil, only Sunday was in your sight.

You had nowhere to hide, and no longer wanted to, so you nodded slowly.

"I did." After hesitating for a few seconds, you asked him quietly. "Why didn't you want to invite Robin? I heard Himeko and March talking about it while they were dressing me up.."

"It's because...she has a concert and it's important for her career, I simply did not wish to bother her. I asked Miss March to send the images tho. That's why we had a photo session that long in the first place."

"Is there a reason why you avoid her?"

"...It's just- I don't want to be sad on my wedding day, you know. I'll explain later."

"Of course, I understand." He couldn't talk, As she not only gave up penacony for his freedom it was their relationship. Eternal separation, is doomed on them. It involves her public image too. He would push himself away as he wouldn't want to hurt her. ,Being seen with the person who tried to put penacony into a sweet dream would be seen as an outrageous act by the media. He may be a morally grey villain but the public will always see him as a pure black villain for what he did, never knowing his true intentions.

Being so close yet being so different, One follows harmony, One followed Order. The one failed in everything it was given to. Sunday could never let Robin see him again. No matter how he changes, he can't change what he did in the past.

As you sat there, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers around you, Sunday's hand found its way to your cheek. His touch was soft, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. You looked down at him, confusion and curiosity swirling in your eyes, trying to understand the emotions behind his gaze.

Before you could even form a question, Sunday's other hand slid behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair. With a firm but gentle pull, he brought you down to him, closing the distance between your lips.

The world seemed to fall away as his lips met yours, the kiss deepening almost immediately. It was slow at first, a tender exploration, but then his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing you into a more passionate rhythm. He was insistent, his lips moving with a deliberate intensity that made your heart race.

There were no words exchanged, none were needed. The kiss spoke volumes, a silent conversation of desire and affection that neither of you could articulate otherwise. His hands held you in place, one tangled in your hair, the other still caressing your cheek as if to keep you anchored to him, to this moment.

You felt your own hands responding instinctively, one resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the other gripping his arm as if you needed something to hold onto, something to ground you in the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through you.

Sunday's kiss was hungry, his lips demanding, as if he were trying to memorize the taste of you, the feel of you. He didn't break the kiss, didn't pause, just continued to deepen it, his tongue dancing with yours in a way that left you breathless. The world outside the veil of flowers and sunlight ceased to exist, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection between you two.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to let you catch your breath, but he didn't let you go far. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. His golden eyes searched yours, filled with an emotion so deep, so profound, that it made your chest tighten.

"Y/n..." he murmured your name, his voice husky, filled with something raw and unspoken. He didn't say anything else, just held you there, his gaze locked with yours as if trying to convey everything he felt without words. And in that moment, you understood. He didn't need to say anything; his actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

Sunday's fingers continued to trace the contours of your face, his touch gentle but firm, as if grounding himself in the moment. His eyes softened, but a shadow of something more complex—something darker—passed through them. He let out a deep sigh, his gaze turning distant as he began to speak.

"You know," he began, his voice low and reflective, "I was always a bit of a control freak. Back when I was the leader of the Oak family, everything had to be done my way, according to my vision. I thought I knew what was best for everyone, and I couldn't tolerate anything that deviated from my idea of perfection."

His hand slipped from your cheek to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth absently. "I believed that a society where only the strong survive, where the fittest rule and the weak are left behind, would never reach true happiness. The world is so full of pain, of suffering, and I couldn't stand it. I wanted to protect people from that—at any cost."

He paused, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "That's why I became so obsessed with the Order. I genuinely believed that by creating a dream world—a place where people could escape the harshness of reality and live in peace, even if it meant never waking up—I could save them from all that suffering. I wasn't driven by malice, Y/n. I truly wanted to protect people from the pain I saw around me."

His expression hardened slightly as he continued, "But I know now that my perspective on humanity was... pessimistic, to say the least. I believed that people had an innate desire to escape their pain, to avoid the harsh truths of life. And in some ways, I still do. But I also know that escaping reality isn't the answer. In that dream world, people wouldn't grow, wouldn't learn from their struggles. They'd be trapped in a painless illusion, and while that might seem like a kindness, it's really just another form of control."

Sunday's voice softened as he squeezed your hand. "I see now that my beliefs were shaped by the Order, by the Dreammaster who indoctrinated me from such a young age. The scriptures I followed, the ideals I held onto so tightly—they weren't mine. They were something drilled into me, and I didn't even realize it. Robin noticed it too; she saw things in my diary that she had never been taught."

He sighed again, a mix of regret and resignation in his eyes. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but in trying to shield people from pain, I was just trying to control them, to impose my will on their lives. I was wrong, Y/n. And I'm trying to be better now, to let go of that need for control, to trust in the strength of others to find their own way, even if it means they'll get hurt along the way."

"......Sunday?"

"Hey y/n..? What did you think about me when we were all against each other? You looked so pissed off at me, If I remember? Not complaining, I wasn't the best person. I was cunning and betrayed your trust, You were the first one who stood during that time and I made you feel sad didn't I?" 

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you remembered  "You pissed me off so much, Sunday," you admitted, your voice light with teasing, though there was an edge of truth to it. You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, the simple gesture bringing a smile to his face.

He laughed softly, but there was still a trace of unease in his eyes as he looked at you. "I figured as much," he murmured, his gaze dropping for a moment before he met your eyes again. "I remember how I was back then, always trying to control everything... even the way you drank your tea."

You couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Oh, I remember. You must've corrected me over ten times about the 'proper' way to hold the cup and sip. It was so infuriating," you said with a smirk, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

Sunday grinned sheepishly. "I was a bit obsessed with doing things the 'right' way, wasn't I?"

"A bit?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow playfully. But as the laughter subsided, a more serious thought crossed your mind. You remembered the look on his face back then, the rare moments when the mask of control slipped, and he seemed almost... vulnerable.

For a moment, you just looked at him, dead in the eyes, letting the weight of his question settle between you. Finally, you spoke, your voice steady and clear. "I thought you were lost. Lost in your need for control, in your fear of letting things go. But despite everything, I also saw the good in you, Sunday. I saw someone who wanted to protect others, even if your methods were... misguided."

He swallowed, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "And now?" he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled gently, leaning in closer. "Now, I see someone who's trying. Someone who's learning to let go, to trust, to love. And that's enough for me."

Sunday's eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing.

You took a deep breath, letting the weight of your thoughts settle between you both. As you looked at Sunday, his golden eyes searching yours, you began to speak, your voice soft yet unwavering.

"Sunday, you're the most selfless selfish man I've ever known," you began, watching as a flicker of surprise crossed his face. "You have this unwavering determination to save everyone, even if it means sacrificing yourself. But in doing so, you take away another's choice, all in the name of liberation."

His expression tightened, as if the truth of your words cut deep. But you continued, knowing that this was something he needed to hear.

"You're a cynical man, trapped in a birdcage with open doors, yet unable to take that leap of faith because of fear—fear of what could be, fear of the unknown," you said, your voice growing more tender. "No one ever stood by you, offered you solace, comfort, or a different point of view. That's why you wanted to become a god yourself, the one who could offer solace to others. You wanted to give people what you never had."

He looked down, his hand tightening around yours, his features etched with a sorrowful understanding. "I just wanted to protect people," he whispered, almost to himself. "To create a world where no one would have to suffer like I did."

"And you're not wrong," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of empathy and conviction. "Everything you've said about the world is true. In a perfect world, you could create systemic changes, elevate people and systems so no one would have to suffer. But the world is cruel, Sunday. We don't have to look far to see how terrible life can be for some, while others go on their merry way."

His eyes met yours again, filled with a deep, conflicted sadness. "But since it can't be achieved in reality," you continued, "you tried to create a dream reality, a place where people could live better, where they wouldn't have to face the harshness of life. You wanted to give them an escape."

You paused, letting the words sink in, seeing the turmoil in his gaze. "But this is a hero's story," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "The Trailblazer and the others had to fight back because people need stories that confirm it's worth fighting for, that it's worth hoping for a better life in reality. It's a message we need to cope with life, to keep going. Because if you stare too long into the cruelty of this world, your kindness will destroy you."

Sunday's hand trembled slightly in yours, and you squeezed it gently, grounding him in the moment. "In our world, we can't do anything about that cruelty," you said softly. "But in this world, you tried to make a dreamscape where people could live in dignity. You wanted to give them a chance to escape, to find solace in a place where they wouldn't have to suffer."

His voice was a whisper when he finally spoke. "But is that right? To take away their reality for a dream?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with understanding. "If what you're doing was possible in our world, you'd have to ask yourself, is this cruel world worth protecting? Do we have the right to tear away a good dream life from people who are starving, who are living in perpetual war, or who are just trapped in unlivable circumstances?"

He looked at you, his gaze intense, searching for an answer.

"We can't say that living in a dream is terrible when some people would choose that over their reality," you continued. "Reality is just perception. It's something we label as 'real' because we all agree on it. But why is our perception of reality better than a dream? In the end, we all die the same. Everything is just in our heads."

Sunday's eyes softened, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as he listened to you.

"And you," you said, your voice dropping to a tender whisper, "you couldn't escape from the cage you were trapped in because you were so scared of what would happen. That cage was your understanding of the world. To step out of it, to embrace something different, is terrifying. A bird with clipped wings will always be scared to fly, even if the cage door is open."

You reached out, gently cupping his cheek. "But if that bird is given the time and space to heal, its feathers will grow back. And that's what you've done, Sunday. By coming with the Astral Express, you've started to heal, little by little. You're taking that step towards something new, something unknown, and that's incredibly brave."

Sunday closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. Neither of you spoke for a while. You could hear the piano music in the distance. Sunday let go of your hand, leaned forward, and caged you between him and the flower rack.

"I used to think that a lifetime is a very long time, I realized that in a dream it is a long time too. You're just living the same happy, peaceful day again. but after I met you, it had become very short."

"Why?"

"Of course it's because of you, Because I want to spend every moment of my life with you." His breath was closer, and the flower fragrance seemed stronger, and you almost ran out of breath.

He stopped, gently pressing his forehead against you, and looked at you intently, saying gentle and solemnly.

"Y/n L/n, I thank the Aeons that made them reserve this ring finger for me, for the wedding ring." He lowered his head and kissed the root of your ring finger which had the ring he gave to himeko.

"I solemnly vow that you will forever be my happiness and joy...As long we both shall live."

It's said the vein on the ring finger, called 'vena amoris'. reaches the heart directly. At this moment, this might be true.

The force of the kiss and the deep love of this vow seemed to fill your blood. and they flowed straight into your heart through the vein, surging and wandering in your chest restlessly.

"Now the groom may kiss the bride."

Sunday imitated the wedding officiant's solemn tone, then raised his hand and placed the veil behind your ears, and leaned in close to you.

The light and soft touch lingered on your lips with his scorching breath. You closed your eyes and felt Sunday's existence more clearly than ever before.

[lokimobius]

Lokius + 🤕 for the hug asks! :D

Happy Wednesday! Here's a little bit of hurt/comfort.

small content warning for symptoms of anxiety and trauma. it's not too detailed but just letting you all know.

🤕 Panic hug / "I'm glad you're okay”

The sound of glass shattering and Loki shouting had Mobius out of his seat in seconds. He grabbed his golf club from the hallway and gripped it tightly as he made his way towards the sound.

They had defeated He Who Remains and his variants over a year ago, but that didn’t stop him from worrying that someone was out to get them every time there was a loud sound.

The battle had been intense and left everyone with varying degrees of trauma. Mobius had suffered from nightmares of everyone and everything he loved getting destroyed. He dreamt of Loki sacrificing himself yet again, and this time he was never going to come back. The scenarios his brain conjured up haunted him, and he was losing sleep over them.

He couldn’t stay at the TVA any longer. As much as he would miss his friends, the pressure of his role, combined with the lack of sleep, made him sick. He had to go.

Not long after his decision to leave, Loki and Mobius had moved to the timeline to start a quiet life together, far away from the danger of being pivotal players in a multiversal war.

He stepped into their kitchen cautiously, raising the golf club up in readiness to swing.

Loki was nowhere to be found. Panic washed over his body. Had they taken him? The windows were in tact, so it didn’t seem like someone had broken in. But someone could’ve used magic. Damn it, why had he not thought about that until now? He’d have to get Loki to cast a protective spell around their house.

“Loki?!” He called loudly, panic now rising in his chest. His ears started to ring, and he gripped on to the golf club tighter.

Loki’s head popped up from behind the counter. “Down here!” He eyed the golf club in Mobius’ hand, and the smile on his face dropped. “Mobius?”

Mobius dropped the makeshift weapon to the floor and stumbled around the other side of the counter.

“Hey, hey, watch out!” Loki warned, standing up quickly to hold his hands out towards Mobius. “There’s glass all over the floor!”

Mobius didn’t care. He grabbed Loki's outreached hands and pulled him in for a tight hug. 

“I thought they’d taken you.”

Loki ran his hand up and down Mobius' back in an attempt to soothe him. “Who's they?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mobius said, burrowing his head into Loki’s neck. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

They stood there for a while, wrapped up in the safety of each other's arms. Loki swayed them side to side and continued running a calming hand up and down Mobius’ back.

“I might be okay, but the glasses that B-15 gave us aren't." He laughed, placing his chin on top of Mobius’ head. “I don’t think she’ll be pleased.”

“Don’t worry,” Mobius mumbled into his chest. “I’ll protect you.”

Loki smiled and squeezed Mobius tighter. “You always do.”

[virgil-upinthestars]

like a little prayer - chapter one

Pairing: Loki x Mobius, Deadpool x Wolverine

Words: 2,585

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

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

header/ch 1

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You people like your guesses,” Logan grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Mobius could’ve killed him.

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

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

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

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

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

It was making his heart ache.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fergalicious,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mobius blinked.

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

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

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

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

“His is in danger, though —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit,” he whispered.

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

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

She’s going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips twitched. “Mobius.”

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

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

Towards the one thing he could do.

header/ch 1

more here on ao3

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle"

AO3 link if you'd rather read it there ;)

6:38 a.m.

Early on a Monday morning, Sonic awoke to a rocking sensation. For a moment it was nice, soothing even, and he thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a hammock or something.

Except, it was in fact not soft fabric beneath him, but wooden boards.

A faint smell of salt alerted him next. Then a strong gust of wind. Then the cry of a seagull.

A seagull?!

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, panic immediately flooding his chest upon seeing a huge mass of water all around him. He found himself sitting in a wooden fishing boat, smack dab in the middle of it.

He jumped up to his feet with a squeak of true fear, wobbling as the rocking of the boat nearly made him lose his balance.

He raced to the pole where the sails were attached and jumped onto it, full-body clinging to it with both arms and legs. "HOW IN MOBIUS DID I GET OUT HERE?!" he yelled indignantly, as loudly as he could for having just woken up.

A snicker sounded above him, and he jerked his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

And whom should he see perched atop the sails post but his little brother, Tails, his namesakes waving around and mischief practically written all over his face.

"Happy April Fools," the smug little fox greeted him, still giggling.

Sonic relaxed slightly, but shot Tails a feigned death glare. "It's on," he shot back, unable to hide a smirk.

-

8:23 a.m.

He had to be subtle about this. Tails was obviously very well aware what day it was. He had to be sly.

So, for his first prank of many, Sonic ran out to buy a cheap whoopie cushion, then slipped it in the Tornado's cockpit, at a perfect angle so Tails wouldn't see it until it was too late.

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping it cool, going on runs and swinging back by the workshop every few minutes to see when Tails needed to go out for a flight.

Except it was taking too long.

If he didn't get that over with, all his time to come up with more pranks for the day would be gone. And that simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, Tails!" he called from the roof, where he'd been leisurely lounging for the past five minutes. "Wanna go for a shopping run?"

After a pause of silence filled only with the sound of some metal clanging, Tails called back, "For what? I thought we were stocked."

"No, we need more— flour." He quickly improvised, having not actually checked the pantry beforehand.

"Why do we need more flour?" Tails sounded both distracted and confused as he continued whatever he was clanging around with.

"Because bread." Sonic flipped onto the ground and leaned his head through the window. "We should make bread."

Tails finally pulled back his goggles and shot him a look. "Why do you want to make bread?"

"Don't question it, Tails! Why can't I be allowed to wanna try new stuff?"

"Because it's April Fools, that's why." Tails smirked and pulled his goggles back down, studying the chunks of metal he was abusing. "There's probably a prank waiting for me at the store or something."

Sonic clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. "You seriously think I went and sabotaged public property just to pull a prank on you?!"

Without missing a beat, and without shifting his eyes from his work, Tails replied, "Yeah."

Sonic huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't. And the only way for you to see that is to come on shopping with me. I'll even let you pick the store so that you can be sure."

Tails looked at him, arching a brow and resting one hand on his hip. "You're so random," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You realize you can go shopping by yourself, right?"

"Well, sue me for wanting to spend time with my darling little brother," Sonic pouted, trying his best to pull off a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Since when did you become so clingy?" Tails laughed, finally setting aside his things and flying over to the window.

Finally!

"It was inevitable. You're too loveable." Sonic yanked him into a hug, right before letting him start flying towards the Tornado.

"I don't know whether to feel touched or suspici—" Tails abruptly broke off as he hopped into the cockpit, and the whoopie cushion immediately squeezed beneath him, filling the air with its awful sounds.

His face went beet red for a moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed. Sonic had already fallen over laughing, tears springing to his eyes at Tails's expression.

"Bread, huh?" Tails sounded way too calm as he turned to face his brother, but there was a terrifying glint in his eyes.

"You bet!" Sonic laughed. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's go get flour!"

Tails picked up the whoopie cushion and hurled it full force at the hedgehog's face.

-

8:52 a.m.

After the whoopie cushion incident, Tails forced Sonic to go out shopping anyway. He even managed to trick him into thinking he was doing it as an apology.

Oh, was that poor hedgehog mistaken. He was so in for it. Tails had sent him out shopping— alone— so he could set up his revenge prank.

He decided to go with a simple one. Perhaps he would save the more intricate and wild pranks for later in the day.

This one would still be personal, though.

Barely suppressing a little cackle of glee, Tails snatched a large bottle of clear super glue and generously poured it all over the welcome mat at his front door. This glue wouldn't fully dry for another twenty to thirty minutes, and since Sonic was only getting one thing from the store, he wouldn't take nearly that long.

Sure enough, five minutes after he'd laid the prank, he heard the distinct BOOM in the distance of his brother's impending arrival.

Tails already knew Sonic wasn't going to notice the glue. If it wasn't immediately obvious, and he wasn't in danger, he didn't pay attention to detail like that.

The door handle jiggled for a moment, then was followed by a banging on the door. His muffled voice called, "Tails, if you're gonna send me out to buy stuff we don't actually need, the least you could do is leave the door unlocked for me to actually give you the stuff we don't need."

"Oh, dear chaos!" Tails called back, deliberately sounding way too dramatically surprised. "How did the door lock itself?!"

It didn't matter if Sonic caught on. If he was banging on the door, it was too late for him.

"I don't like your tone, young man." Sonic definitely sounded suspicious, and Tails could barely suppress his triumphant laughter.

"Sorry, Dad." With a snicker, he unlocked the door and swept it open, where he found Sonic standing with a hefty bag of flour, shooting him a look.

He was standing right in the middle of the super glue puddle.

"Seriously, bro? Locking me outside? That's the best you g-GAAUHH!" Sonic broke off as he tried to take a step forward, only to pull the entire doormat up with his foot and lose his balance. He tried desperately to right himself, but only ended up pinwheeling his arms, losing his grip on the bag of flour, and falling square on his chest. A second later, the bag of flour came down on his head and immediately popped open upon pricking his quills.

After the flour dust settled, the two brothers looked at each other for a solid ten seconds, the younger standing tall with his arms crossed and a smug smile, the older slumped on the ground, covered in flour to the point of looking like a ghost, glaring daggers.

He sneezed. "That was low. I like my kicks."

"They'll be fine," Tails insisted, brushing off the flour that had drifted into his fur. "I've got a solution that'll cancel out the glue."

Sonic shook himself off, then stood up and sneezed again. "You owe me twenty rings for the waste of perfectly good flour that we didn't need."

Tails stuck his tongue out at him, then started blowing the spilled flour out the door with his tails.

-

9:35 a.m.

Sonic took a shower after the flour incident, and he made it quick enough so that Tails didn't have any time to try anything more on him, since he was still cleaning up said flour.

Once he'd gotten out and dried off, Tails brushed past him into the bathroom, and a few seconds later he heard the shower start up again.

No way there was this golden opportunity just dangling in front of him . . .

Grinning, Sonic first went to the kitchen and hit the switch for the power hose. Next time Tails went to wash the dishes, he was in for a little surprise.

Then, very quietly, he nudged the door open to the bathroom (where Tails was still in the shower), reached in, and flushed the toilet.

A second later, there was a high pitched "Yipe!" and one very startled, very wet fox kit scrambled out of the tub at the suddenly freezing water.

Sonic heard his name screeched furiously from over his shoulder as he laughed and booked it for the front door, only to catch on the doormat and faceplant the sidewalk, his socks now stuck in the super glue still coating the mat.

-

10:14 a.m.

He deserved this fate, Tails claimed.

"It's called revenge!" Sonic yelled through the door from where he lay on the ground outside in the yard. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge! Can I have the anti solution for the glue now?"

"Nope," Tails called back.

"C'moooon. These are my last clean socks, I can't just take them off and put on dirty ones. Do you want me to defile the house with smelly feet?"

"Ohh, manipulation. That's a new one!"

"Tails!"

"Just wear flipflops. Or go barefoot. I dunno."

"I don't like flip flops!" Sonic squirmed onto his side. "And I don't like being barefoot! Running barefoot is painful!"

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better apologize for ruining my lovely shower and forfeit all your desserts to me for the next three months, if you ever want to run again."

"Sorry, who was being manipulative?"

"You were!"

Sonic huffed. "You know, I could just do laundry. Yeah. Do laundry and be free."

"Wow!" Tails sounded way too amazed. "That's so genius!"

"I'll wash all my socks! I'll wash all the socks!" With caution, Sonic forced his way back onto his feet, then hopped inside the house, doormat still attached. "I'll be free in a matter of . . . hours." He frowned. "Hey Tails, can dish soap clean clothes? And how fast does a fur dryer dry clothes?"

Tails was standing in the kitchen, pouring the remains of the flour that hadn't touched the floor into a canister. He eyed his brother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "There's one way to find out."

Without thinking, Sonic broke into a relieved grin and started hopping his way into the kitchen. "Good, because if I have to be stuck like this for one—"

He turned the faucet on, and immediately a powerful spray of cold water shot out at his face from the power hose. He yelped and sputtered, immediately switching it off as he suddenly realized he'd fallen for his own prank.

Or, more likely, Tails had seen right through his prank, and had made him fall for it.

Sonic looked down at him, water dripping down his face and off his quills. Tails had lost his cool composure and was doubled over, squeaking with laughter.

-

10:30 a.m.

"I deserved that one," Sonic grumbled, toweling off his face.

Tails sat beside him on the porch, eyes closed in smug contentment as he brushed out his tails. "Yes. You did."

Sonic turned and grinned devilishly. "You realize this isn't over, lil bro."

Tails turned a fanged smile right back on him. "Far from it."

-

11:04 a.m.

Sonic burst through Amy's door and immediately said, "Ames, I need a favor!"

Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her paintbrush onto the carpet. She sighed, but picked it up without complaining, set it on the ledge of her painter's stand, and gave him her attention. "What's up?"

"Sorry for that," he said quickly, then added, "Could you make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, but like, make three of them with raisins instead?"

Amy wrinkled her forehead even as she smiled. "Wait, what? Why?"

"It's April Fools. I need to get back at Tails."

"Oh, no." Amy laughed as she stood up and started heading for her kitchen. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, many things." As Amy set to making the cookies, he told her all about the events of the day so far. He told her about the pranks on both sides, just to keep it fair.

Amy was aware of their April Fools traditions. The same basic thing had happened the past two years as well.

It had been last year that they learned the hard way not to prank Knuckles. Or Shadow.

"You should really learn to bake," Amy commented as she eventually pulled the batch out of the oven. "It's really very fun! And satisfying."

"You know what'll be satisfying?" He snickered. "The look on Tails's face when he thinks he's gonna taste chocolate and tastes raisins instead!"

Amy shook her head with an amused sigh. "That too, I guess."

They hung out together for another twenty minutes or so, then Sonic bid her farewell and took off back to the workshop.

-

12:22 p.m.

Tails had resumed working on whatever project he'd been doing earlier that morning.

"Yo, Tails!" Sonic raced into the room, holding the container of cookies. "Amy made us cookies!"

"Ooh, she did?" Tails immediately paused what he was doing and lit up, but then suspicion clouded his face. "Wait . . . what's going on?"

"Bro, it's just cookies," Sonic laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned?"

Tails kept hesitating, but Sonic could see him scenting the air. Since the majority of them were chocolate chip, he was detecting that— not the few raisins.

"Okay. I'll take one," he finally relented, and Sonic handed him one with raisins.

He started heading back to his project as he took a bite, but immediately stopped in his tracks. Sonic watched him stop chewing and look at the cookie for a long moment, then turn and shoot him a deadpan look.

"You're so mean," he complained, mouth still full with the bite he refused to swallow (he hated raisins). Then he tried to spit it out onto Sonic, who yelped and raced away, dropping the container of cookies on the floor.

Tails picked it up, having already figured out that most of the others were actually chocolate chip. Jokes on Sonic, now he had all the good cookies to himself.

-

1:01 p.m.

Their prank fest had delayed lunch a bit, so Sonic (after eventually returning) told Tails to kick back and relax while he made chili.

Tails seemed a little too pleased with the idea, but Sonic barely noticed, too hungry to care.

As he stirred through the pot, Tails watched him, grinning in anticipation for the meal. Earlier, while Sonic had been lying around the front yard with the doormat glued to his socks and complaining, Tails had switched out the salt and sugar.

Half an hour later or so, they sat down together to eat. It seemed Sonic thought they had reached a temporary truce, but oh, little did he know.

Tails deliberately took his sweet time in spooning the chili onto his hot dog, eyeing his brother in his corner vision. Sonic had made his in no time, digging in with two big bites before Tails had even finished dressing his.

Almost immediately Sonic paused, blinked a couple times, then kept chewing. Then paused again, frowning.

His eyes flicked to Tails, who quickly resumed dressing his chili dog.

Sonic finally swallowed. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Tails asked innocently, actually being subtle this time.

"Chili tastes more like dessert." The hedgehog squinted at him. "Did you sabotage the chili cans?"

Tails sniffed. "How dare you accuse me."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. The cans were sealed, weren't they?"

"Hm." Sonic took another hesitant bite, but stopped again, shaking his head. "This tastes so weird. Have you tried yours?"

Tails shrugged. "Try salting it," he suggested, avoiding the question.

Sonic grabbed the salt shaker and generously covered his chili dog with its contents, then took another bite, only to actually choke over it this time.

"Okay, did you—?!" He snatched the shaker again, shook a little onto his finger, tasted it, then chucked it at Tails, who laughed and dove out of the way. "You switched the salt and sugar?!"

"Well, duh!" Tails switched to hovering over the table, snickering. "There are no truces today, dearest brother!"

Sonic threw the too-sweet chili dog at him next, inevitably splattering chili over the table.

"You're cleaning that up!" Tails called in a singsong voice. "I'm going out to Josef's Pasta Alla Paccico!"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

-

2:10 p.m.

They both ended up eating out at Josef's, and even though they did truly call a ceasefire for a grand total of twenty-five minutes, they split the time between actually eating and blowing their straw wrappers at people, having mini sword fights with the butter knives, and constructing architecture with the plates and takeout boxes.

Needless to say, the only reason they didn't get kicked out was probably because both Sonic and Tails were practically world-renowned.

Not long after they returned to the workshop, Sonic inevitably crashed for a nap. He usually couldn't make it through a day without a nap at some point, which was always unfortunate for him on this particular day of the year.

Tails studied him where he slept, on a branch of the tree in his front yard. He knew he'd been the last one to pull something, but hey, who said they were taking turns?

There was simply no way he was passing this up.

First, he grabbed a sharpie and very carefully drew an elaborate mustache worthy of Eggman across his brother's face. He added a few random smiley faces on his cheek and arms, as well as the phrase "SLO-MO" on one shoulder.

Then he grabbed an assortment of potato chips and began carefully stacking them on his head, in his hands, on his stomach, in an entire tower.

He made sure to take pictures through the whole process, then— leaving him there to sleep, still covered in sharpie and potato chips— flew off to print the photos.

Going above and beyond, he put the printed photos in a fancy envelope, marked them as "priority mail," addressed them to Sonic's post office box, disguised himself, then dropped them off at the post office.

An hour passed after he had done all that, and Sonic finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing the stack of chips in front of him, he promptly fell out of the tree with a yelp, and Tails started giggling.

"What did you do to me?" Sonic whined, brushing all the crumbs off his head and chest as he stood up, still groggy.

"You think that's bad?" Tails teased. "Go check the mirror."

A look of horror filled his brother's eyes, then he was gone in a flash. Tails kept giggling, and laughed harder when he heard the yell from inside: "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE EGGFACE?!"

"It's called revenge!" Tails called back gleefully. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge!"

Sonic came storming back outside. "How dare you use my own words against me."

"Sorry," Tails told him insincerely.

His brother scrubbed at his cheek. "How long will it take for this to wash off?"

Tails shrugged. "A couple days, probably."

Sonic's resulting screech was loud enough to startle away all the nearby flickies.

-

4:32 p.m.

Sonic spent at least half an hour in the bathroom desperately trying to scrub the marker out of his fur, but only succeeded in making it fade a little.

"Taking advantage of my sleep cycle," he huffed, reaching out to mess up Tails's bangs from where the fox kit sat on the couch. "So rude."

Tails tried to fix his bangs, while Sonic flopped onto the other end of the couch. "Consider it payback for you dyeing my fur green last year."

"You still looked cool, at least!" Sonic protested. "If Egghead sees me like this, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I looked like a lime!" Tails shot back. "I had to hide from society for an entire month!"

"It wasn't a month."

"Three and a half weeks. Close enough."

"Mm."

Tails shot him a look, and Sonic reached over to mess up his bangs again. He was rewarded with a throw pillow to the face.

Sonic threw it back, and it was just about to escalate into a fully fledged pillow fight when the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze, and Sonic zipped away in a flash. "I'm not here! You don't know me! If anyone asks, I'm in Holoska on a nice, arctic vacation!"

"Chicken!" Tails taunted after him, then flew over to the door and pulled it open to find Amy and Knuckles standing on the other side.

(Thankfully, the super glue had dried hours before.)

"Hey, guys!" he greeted them, stepping back to let them in. "What's the occasion?"

Amy said sweetly, "We just wanted to make sure you and Sonic were doing okay!" at the same time Knuckles said, "We came to supervise."

Tails rolled his eyes. "We don't need babysitters."

Amy glanced around. "Did Sonic leave?"

Knuckles frowned as Tails snickered. "I guess he did. He's telling everyone he's going to Holoska."

"You can't stop me!" Sonic's muffled voice shouted from somewhere towards the back of the workshop.

"Nobody's trying!" Tails called back, his voice catching on a laugh. "Just be sure to warn Jari-Pekka about your new look!"

"New look?" Knuckles echoed.

Amy facepalmed. "What did you do to him?"

Tails waved a hand flippantly. "It'll come off in a few days."

"And this is why we thought you two needed supervision," Knuckles groaned. "Today always gets out of hand."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Amy asked, although she was grinning.

Sonic chose that moment to burst explosively out of the closet, zip to his brother's side, and pull him close in a protective hug. "No, don't separate us!" he insisted, forcing a huge smile. "Everything's going just fine!"

Knuckles and Amy took a solid ten seconds to stare at Tails's artwork all over Sonic's face, then started laughing, albeit good-naturedly.

Tails grinned at where he was still trapped in his brother's hold, only to start violently trying to squirm away when said brother slipped a sharpie out of hiding and started drawing his revenge on the fox's face.

-

6:00 p.m.

Knuckles and Amy chose to spend the rest of the day at the workshop with them, just to make sure things didn't get any crazier than they already had. By the time dinnertime arrived, both Sonic and Tails had sharpie all over their faces, although the "art" on Tails's face could hardly be called as such. Because of his squirming during the whole process, it was nothing more than random scribbles of blue in random places on his face.

"Next year I'll dye you blue," Sonic promised him as the four of them had dinner together (after Amy switched back the salt and sugar). "We can match!"

"Pass." Tails swallowed his bite. "I'll just look like some kind of mutant smurf."

Sonic snickered. "All the more reason to do it, then!"

Amy groaned. "Boys . . ."

"Hey, we should rope you into this!" Sonic exclaimed suddenly, staring straight at Amy.

"If you want a hammer to the face next, feel free!" Amy stuck her tongue out at him, although she had to hide a giggle.

"As long as you leave me out of it, do whatever you want," Knuckles put in wearily, sounding much like a parent tired of trying to control his children.

Tails smiled at all of them. Knuckles was right; this day was always crazy, and sure, things got out of hand sometimes. But he had no regrets. It was fun. It was a stupid way of bonding with his brother, and that was something he would never regret.

A Happy April Fools Day, indeed.

[moderator-monnie]

Before The Ritual (A COTH Story)

Dr. Ivo Robotnik, otherwise known as Dr. Eggman, was currently sitting in his lab, infuriated as always. He threw some papers off his desk and sighed heavily.

One hand was on his chin, and the other was tapping against his table, mumbling some things to himself quietly.

"Drat that damn hedgehog... Always getting in the way of my plans, he is truly a worthy adversary, but if I want to get rid of him for good, I need the ultimate plan! What haven't I tried? What could I use? Now that is the question at the end of the day."

"Perhaps a doomsday device? Hmm, not too predictable. Maybe I could touch upon the metal virus in a new light? ... No. Not too dangerous. I made some mistakes with that attempt. I didn't even think about my own safety."

"Maybe upgrade Metal Sonic or bring Tails Doll and Mecha Knuckles out of retirement? Could I even make some robot copies of the rats' other friends? That lemur would make an interesting machine. NO NO, none of these plans work!"

He soon laid back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He didn't want to work himself, but Sonic was a powerful foe and quite intelligent too, even if Eggman wouldn't admit it out loud.

"Just what can I do? What would really wow him? WHAT CAN BEAT HIM FOR GOOD? THERE MUST BE SOMETHING I'VE MISSED, IN MY RESEARCH OF MOBIUS!!! AN ULTIMATE WEAKNESS!"

Suddenly, a red light flashed in the room, and Sage appeared, sitting on his work bench, kicking her legs before clearing her throat with a gentle smile and a wave and speaking. "Hello Father, I see you are stressed over finding a way to, and I quote, 'crush that blasted hedgehog' may I offer my assistance?"

Eggman sat up in his chair, letting out a hearty chuckle before looking at his AI daughter. He took her words carefully and rubbed his chin before responding. "Ah, hello, Sage. Hello, it's nice to see you. You know what? You might just be what I need; a fresh eye on things would definitely help me figure out exactly what I need to defeat Sonic once and for all."

Eggman put his hands together, striking a pose. "You have access to my data banks along with the internet, correct?"

Sage nodded softly. She then teleported away, inserting herself into the main computer and combing through it rather quickly.

A sudden dinging noise was heard, and Eggman could see some files being downloaded, but he allowed time for Sage to explain what they were for.

"Father, I have discovered something you may have overlooked. You are aware of Grandfather Gerald Robotnik's research into the gods of Mobius and of humanity, correct?"

Eggman's eyebrows rose, wondering where his daughter was going with this, but he was quite curious as well. "Why, yes, Sage, I'm aware of all this; why did you bring it up? I've tried using god-like creatures against Sonic before, like with Dark Gaia and Chaos."

Sage soon pulled up some semi-corrupted files she had dug up. She is in the deepest parts of the internet, and Eggman's own files are on the main computer screen.

"Well, Father, you may have overlooked something. Its origins are not exactly clear. It's commonly unknown if humanity or Mobians discovered this entity, but unlike many other gods of Mobius and Earth, this one has not only been proven to exist to some extent."

"This God, or rather god-like entity, can control dreams themselves and is not physical, at least not without a host body to call its own; it has the ability to interact with solid objects, but with a host body, epically one with a high enough chaos energy.

And given enough time. This entity could possibly even put all of Mobius into a slumber of its own control, one they can't wake up from without its consent."

Eggman began to smirk very widely as he got up out of his chair and looked at the screen widely, seeing all the files Sage showed him.

"What a very interesting find, Sage! I'm very proud of you, but what makes you think we can control it and have it help us get rid of Sonic?"

Sage blushed. She had stars in her eyes for a moment; she was always happy to have her father be proud of her, but she soon cleared her throat and continued.

"Ahem, ah, right, you are father. The reason why I believe this entity would help us is due to its documented nature. It has been shown in the past to love pure chaos, and what would be more chaotic than helping you take over the world?

"Sonic would have no way to stop it either, due to it being far more powerful than him. And Sonic can't simply attack something while he's asleep now, can he, Father?"

He nodded along, listening closely before using a virtual glove he made to be able to pat Sage on the head softly, and then sat back down, carefully reading all the information Sage had brought up.

"Correct, you are Sage; that hedgehog would stand no chance of something he can't even interact with. I shall begin preparations. I see this 'god' has some ties to the chaos emeralds. 

So perhaps I can build a new robot, one that can harness chaos energy without directly needing the emerald, in order to create the perfect host for our friend to take possession of, and with us working together, friends can finally win! I'll need to be careful though and build in some safety features so I can control the robot once our friend takes it's new body."

"Though I shouldn't make the controls too obvious, otherwise strike this 'god's ire."

With a few clicks on the screen, a few images and historical documents showed up, revealing something quite interesting to the doctor himself.

A strange golden arch was under the site where Angel Island once stood, back when it was just a normal land mass.

"How in sweet mother Gaia did I ever miss such a thing during my many trips to Angel Island?"

He zoomed in on the photos, inspecting them closely, and wrote a few things down on his notepad. Not much information seems to be known about this historical sight, but a few tablets were recovered from the sight itself, written in a language similar to the ancients themselves but different.

All Eggman could gather from the rough translations he could figure out was one word: 'Zepperaith'. He would need to travel to the historical site, inspect this golden arch up close, and figure out its secrets.

"Zepperaith... I will unleash you upon this land, and SONIC THE HEDGEHOG WILL BE GONE FOREVER!"

Dr. Eggman began to laugh loudly, with Sage joining him quietly, with a new plan in mind. Perhaps this will be Sonic's downfall once and for all.

[in-my-loki-feels]

Okay, had a lot of thoughts on this subject after chatting with @faux-fm so I'll dump them here. It's ~795 words so I'll put the majority under a readmore.

Imagine the Roxxcart mission going down a slightly different route than it does in the show...

Mobius is just a little faster and in the split second before the Timedoor closes, he jumps through. He lands on the other side, heart pounding, knowing that if he'd been any slower he'd be dead—or worse. He's just realizing he's back at the TVA when he hears the metallic clank of a locker shutting and turns to see Loki standing there, daggers in hand.

"Mobius, I can explain—"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Mobius snaps, still caught in a storm of emotions: frustration from seeing Loki look back and still choose to go through the door, fear from watching all those time charges disappear to who knows where.

"She's here! I had to follow her."

"Who's here?"

"The Variant! We were wrong, Mobius. They were never a he, or maybe they were at some point, but the point is the Variant is a she and she's getting away." Loki tries to brush past Mobius but Mobius catches his arm, his grip too tight.

"Please," Loki says, almost desperately. "Trust me."

Mobius searches his face for any hint of subterfuge, then looks down at the daggers Loki hasn't tried to use against him. "Damn it! Okay, let's go."

They rush out of the briefing room, argue briefly over which direction to try, and soon stumble across the first of many Minutemen, slumped or sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Mobius wants to check for a pulse the first time, but Loki is already hurrying down the hall so he has to run again to catch up. Again.

"Loki, slow down," he hisses as they turn a corner. At the end of the hall is an elevator and a cloaked figure, who is just finishing taking out two more Minutemen. When the person straightens, Mobius sees it's a woman wearing a very familiar set of horns, albeit with one broken off.

"Great," she spits when she sees the two of them. "Still following me and you've brought company."

This is them, Mobius realizes. This is the Variant they've been chasing for who knows how long. She unsheathes a short sword with a dark green blade. In a corner of Mobius' mind, he can't help noting that it's a very Loki-like blade. She's also wearing green and gold armor in a very Asgardian style.

"Well? What're you waiting for?" the woman snaps and Mobius realizes she's talking to him. "Not going to sick your dog on me?"

"Now, hang on," Loki starts, then quiets when Mobius steps forward and motions for him to stand down.

"I'm not gonna sick anyone on you," he says to the Variant, "but you have committed a pretty serious list of crimes against the Sacred Timeline, and it's time you answer for that."

She laughs and sneers, "Crimes against the Sacred Timeline. Give me a break." She turns away to press the call elevator button, confident enough to dismiss them.

Loki sucks air through his teeth and lunges forward.

"Loki!"

Mobius wants to follow but without a weapon, he knows he'd be in the way. He watches them trade blows, evenly matched to his eyes.

"Look, either you come willingly," Loki snaps, trying to grab her. The Variant reverses out of the hold and lunges with her sword but Loki manages to get behind her and twist her arm back.

"Or you won't," he continues. "Either way, you're going to get me a meeting with the Time-Keepers."

Mobius isn't sure about that, but capturing the TVA's number one Variant at Large would definitely earn him brownie points. He hears footsteps running down the hall towards them and twists to see Ravonna and two more Minutemen on the way. When he faces forward, the Variant has somehow gained the upper-hand and has Loki on his knees, with her sword at his neck.

"Come any closer and I'll kill him," she snaps, as backup arrives.

"Go for it," Von says.

"No!" Mobius is about to argue with Von about why they need Loki alive, when Loki twists to grab something from the Variant. A TemPad. Mobius realizes what will happen a second too late.

Loki's eyes are wide as they lock gazes. There's a frantic look in them, a moment of regret, and then both variants disappear through the Time Door beneath them.

"Loki!" Not again. Mobius rushes forward but the door winks out of existence. "Damn it!" There's no way of knowing which timeline they've gone to.

When Mobius looks up, Von has sent the Minutemen away and is giving him a look that's a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

"I told you," she says and then deactivates the Time Stick. "I have to go inform the Time-Keepers." She stalks off, not turning back even when he calls out to her.

[percheduphere]

I wanted to find and gather some lesser appreciated Mobius moments from S1, and some thoughts occurred to me.

When we see Mobius drill into Loki about his choices, his thought patterns, whether or not he enjoys hurting people, Mobius comes down on Loki HARD, cruelly, goading, and manipulating (Sound familiar? Just wait...). He does so in a way that's confident he will get the answers he expects from Loki, which he does.

When we cut to the scenes with Renslayer, Mobius's truer, gentler side appears. The side that is kind and soft and believes in second chances. Notice, also, the difference in lighting between these scenes.

And then it hit me:

Mobius was using a carefully constructed persona--an illusion--with Loki to control the situation and get Loki into the headspace of self-reflection. He uses the very same technique Loki uses regularly to get the outcome that is beneficial for both of them.

Genius, really.

As we move into S1E2 and E3, the power dynamics are decidedly uneven, but once they are out in the field, Mobius's actual power and control over Loki is quite limited and actually banks on a LOT of faith. A ridiculous amount of faith, to be honest. Despite logical misgivings, Mobius makes a POINT of giving Loki freedom and trust because he has analyzed Loki enough to know that lack of trust perpetuates a destructive self-fulfilling prophecy.

So when Loki chooses to escape with Sylvie, all those centuries of belief and good will Mobius invested in him were thrown in his face. He's understandably furious, but the interrogation scene after both Lokis are captured simply does not read as normal without the additional lens of jealousy. If Mobius were not emotionally compromised in some way, he would have handled the interrogation clinically, and he would have sent Loki to be pruned without a thought.

Mobius doesn't do either of those things. Rather than asking Loki objective questions, he focuses on Loki's attention on Sylvie and verbally twists the knife where he can. His punishment for Loki after the interrogation is shockingly personal:

A word about the Sif loop scene: I really, REALLY hated that Mobius did that. It honestly made my gut churn. I think the writers tried to play it off for laughs because Loki gets kicked in the balls repeatedly, but the emotional undercurrent of Sif's words and everything that it means is just awful.

That said, I understand that this scene reveals not only Loki's vulnerability but ALSO Mobius's. This is a "passionate diagreement" through proxy. Mobius knows what would hurt Loki the most psychologically. But why would Mobius choose to hurt him this severely with these specific words?

Remember, this might be a memory, but Mobius is choosing to speak his feelings to Loki through Sif.

I think the answer is 4-pronged: First, Mobius put his career, reputation, and friendship with Ravonna on the line for Loki. The stress of the potential repercussions (which were HIGH) should Loki betray him was a constant heat on his neck. Despite this, Mobius chooses the riskier route of believing Loki would not betray his trust. And yes, within the context of what Mobius has done to advocate for Loki and what's at stake for Mobius should he fail, Loki absolutely betrays him.

Second, Loki told Mobius everything he believed about the TVA and his place in the multiverse is a lie. When was the last time Mobius reacted so violently?

When Brad called him a "nowhere man".

Mind, there is guilt beneath this anger. Not only has everything Mobius believed in been revealed as a lie, it is revealed he was complicit in the genocide of multiple timelines for which there was never any ultimate good. YIKES. That's a lot to take in, and Mobius at his core is a deeply empathetic person. The guilt of this horror, at his hands, is probably why Mobius does not defend himself when Sylvie tears him a new one in S2E4.

Three, I think Mobius may have wished for a friendship with Loki long before his intervention. I've written elsewhere that his intervention appears to be premeditated. Mobius was only waiting for his chance to come along. Who knows how many centuries that took. I believe he may have rationalized away his emotional attachment as a means to help the TVA succeed. Mobius is adept at suppressing not only his emotions but his wants.

Four, by S1E3, Mobius came to love Loki to some degree, platonic or otherwise. I think it's very difficult to not develop love for someone or something you've been tasked to be an expert on. Having Loki actually beside him, engaging with him over lunch and work, no doubt added some much needed color in Mobius's life. It's hard not to become infatuated with someone fun and exciting.

The jealous rage that overwhelms Mobius doesn't last long. When it comes down to it, Mobius can't help but believe in Loki. Doubt in the TVA takes root once his immediate anger dissipates. So Mobius steals Ravonna's TemPad, verifies Loki's claims, and immediately self-corrects. Mobius could have dug his heels in with more denial, but he doesn't. Why? Because Mobius ultimately cares more about Loki than himself.

When Mobius returns to Loki, he asks a few other questions that I can't share images for because of the 10-image limit. Those other questions include but are not limited to:

Do you care about Sylvie?

Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?

I should point out these questions are not at all tied to the well-being of the TVA or the multiverse. They are specifically tied to Loki's well-being. Loki's happinness.

Why does Mobius ask these questions? Because, in my opinion, Mobius was preparing himself to let Loki go, be with who he wants to be with (Sylvie), and fight the battle he wants to fight. Mobius will not be the obstruction to Loki's path to personal success even if that means letting go of the TVA, letting go of Ravonna, letting go of Loki himself.

All of this is a selfless act of love. What kind of love that is is up to the viewer, but it is very much there. It's real and integral to the story.

Classic Loki points out that this is a high cost. In response, Mobius takes the crux of his belief in Loki and directs it to himself.

The beauty of the goodbye scene in S1S6 is that the emotional thrust of selfless love is echoed and amplified in Loki's own self-sacrifice in S2E6. Loki lets go of the TVA, lets go of Sylvie, lets go of Mobius himself. Ouroboros.

[daydream-believin]

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

 I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter..  liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you.  The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

 You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.