#lokius ficlet

[voulezvulcan]

It's been decades at this point, and he's already starting to crack. When he feels the rush of cracking bones and soul-slotting back into place in his past self back on the precipice of the end of everything for the countless time, tears well up in his eyes through overwhelming tiredness.

He lets his arms slump down along his sides, O.B's voice a distant sound coming from above the waters of light the Loom projects onto them. Decades. And he still can't make it right.

"-oki. Loki. Hey."

There are hands on the lapels of his jacket, shaking him gently. He realizes he'd closed his eyes the moment he opens them at the first whisper of Mobius' voice through the mess in his head, and he fists his hands to keep himself from clutching Mobius back against himself.

"There you are. Got me worried there for a second. Where did you just go?"

Loki goes to open his mouth to reply but he shudders and breathes hard instead, giving up on choking back tears. He can see Mobius frown in sympathy before he's giving the grace of not having to fight the instinct of holding Mobius as tight as he can, because he gets pulled down soft and safe in a pair of steady arms first.

Loki hides his face in Mobius' neck, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"I- I can't save you. I just want to save you."

Mobius beings a hand up to cup his neck, holding him even tighter. "Loki, you-"

I love you, Loki thinks, and before Mobius can finish, Loki focuses on the hearts ahe wants to save, and slips away to the beginning of the end again.

[cha-melodius]

Lokius kiss #49

49. …out of necessity.

"Kiss me."

"What?" Mobius nearly yelps as Loki presses him back against the wall with one large hand against the middle of his chest. It's practically searing through his shirt, hot and heavy, and Mobius really hopes that Loki can't feel how his heart is hammering against his ribcage.

"I might have implied we were... together," Loki tells him. "Also that we can't keep our hands off each other."

"Why?" (His voice is far too high. Why is it so high?)

"Because otherwise he's going to know we're not who we say we are," Loki grinds out, looking annoyed at him, as if this is his fault. "Just kiss me, it's not that difficult a concept, agent: your lips on mine, unless you can't stomach—"

Mobius surges forward, cutting off whatever Loki was going to say as he seals their lips together. It's a hard press, no finesse, too many teeth, but then Loki tips his head and their mouths slot together and suddenly it's everything. Loki's tongue licks past his lips and slides across his and Mobius his seeing stars, and—

"We should be clear," Loki says as he pulls away abruptly and looks behind him. "Let's go."

And then he's gone, leaving Mobius gasping and utterly ruined.

(Send me a ship and a number and I'll write a kiss) (Read all my kiss ficlets)

[dewdropreader]

"Do you have a better plan?" sylkius (i envison a kissing-based plan, if that helps)

I wasn’t planning on this veering suggestive but you mentioned kissing based plans and I decided to practice some kiss stuff! Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the prompt!

“Well, this is painfully boring,” Loki sighs.

“Oh toughen up, we’ll only be here for around 12 hours, that’s nothing,” Sylvie tsks.

“I’m plenty tough, thanks, but I’m also plenty bored. I need something to entertain me. It’s only been two hours, and I’m already restless.”

“I should have brought board games… Get it, because you’re bored?” Mobius says, mouth forming a goofy grin.

Loki tries to bite back his reaction but can’t help but smile, he’s always weak to Mobius’ jokes and attempts to tease, no matter how cheesy.

“I’m not sure any board games could keep any of us entertained for this long,” Loki sighs dramatically, clearly trying for said entertainment on his own by putting on a show of sorts, one of his favorite methods. He drapes himself across both of them, laying primarily in Mobius’ lap but letting one of his long arms dangle across Sylvie’s lap as well, his fingers dancing lightly against her leg.

“Hmm, do you have a better plan?” Sylvie challenges, her eyebrow raised, looking down at him in his damsel-like pose.

“Well, we’re just all crowded in a room together… nothing to do but allow the tempad to track data and wait for an emergency call if one ever even comes…” Mobius looks up in thought, a smile playing on his lips, much less goofy and innocent than before. “I have a few ideas, but frankly I’m surprised Loki wasn’t the first to suggest any of them.”

Loki sits up and sits on his knees in front of Mobius, eye to eye with him. “Maybe I just wanted to hear you make such a suggestion,” he purrs.

Mobius quirks a brow but can’t help smiling. “Yeah?”

“Most definitely,” Loki replies, leaning in and taking Mobius’ face in both hands, planting a long, deep kiss to his lips, only pausing to adjust when he has to come up for air. “Is that what you had in mind?”

“It’s certainly a start,” Mobius grins. “What do you think, Syl?” He asks, looking at her sideways even while the flush crawls up his skin as he catches his breath.

Sylvie just grins wickedly and scoots closer to both of them, her lips wasting no time in finding the spots that want them most. First Mobius’ neck, in the tender spot above his collarbones, then on the sharp edge of Loki’s jaw. She isn’t surprised to hear the content sighs that slip out of each of them as she joins in with these simple motions, though she never tires of the feeling of being so wanted.

“On second thought, I think we will have a very entertaining remaining ten hours, my loves,” Loki whispers, and nobody can disagree.

[life-love-musicaltheatre]

One More

LifeLoveMusicalTheatre

Summary:

Season Finale Spoilers

Loki takes one last moment before fulfilling his purpose.

------

“Wait, wait hold on. What are you doing? What about the Time Loom?” Mobius hadn’t noticed yet, the pause he’d drawn them into, the last moment Loki was allowing himself outside of time, and he’d be damned if he was going to waste a second of it.

[lgwilt]

For the ask game! Lokius+ (some options!) “…in a rush of adrenaline” “…in relief” “…as a promise”

It took me AGES to get round to these (and then I accidentally did all three!)

The last two are interlinked.

…in relief

"Show me."

"I told you, Loki, I’m fine."

Loki took Mobius by the arm, steering him away from the remaining Hunters. "The last time you said that you spent two weeks in the infirmary," he reminded him, voice tight. 

"Only ‘cos you weren’t around to patch me up," Mobius mumbled, slurring his words slightly from sheer exhaustion. 

At least Loki hoped it was from exhaustion. 

An away team of twenty, and only five of them had made it this far. Loki hadn’t been able to heal the others; the poison – or whatever it was – resisted his magic. If one of those creatures had sunk its teeth into Mobius…

He took Mobius’ hand, heart racing as he forced himself to look at the jagged crimson line cutting across the agent’s palm. The wound was superficial, but more importantly it was clean, with none of tell-tale signs of infection. 

"Well?"

Loki was silent for a moment, tears pricking the back of his eyelids.

"It’s ok," said Mobius quietly, "you can tell me if…"

He trailed off with a soft gasp as Loki pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

"You’ll be fine," he murmured, healing the injury with a gentle pulse of magic. He brushed his thumb over the smooth skin of Mobius’ palm, reassuring himself that the wound was fully healed. 

"See?," Mobius chuckled, sounding slightly breathless. "Told you so."

…in a rush of adrenaline 

The acrid smell of smoke filled the TVA’s corridors. Loki leaned against the crumbling remains of a wall, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Being forcibly yanked through time didn’t get any easier, even after hundreds of so-called jumps.

157 to be exact. Not that he was counting.

It always started the same way: with a tugging sensation in his chest, like someone was pulling on an invisible thread, followed by darkness and silence. Sometimes he’d open his eyes to find himself in some far-flung corner of the Nine Realms, on a mission to reset a timeline or capture a dangerous variant. Other times he’d be back at the TVA - in the cafeteria, at the desk he’d shared with Mobius in the archives, or (like now, apparently) plunged into the midst of a battle. 

Only one thing remained constant. Wherever and whenever he ended up, Mobius was never far away. It was only a matter of finding him.

A deafening explosion shook the ground, followed by frantic shouting and the clatter of the Hunters’ steel-reinforced boots.

"He’s losing too much blood, I don’t think he’s gonna make it…" 

B-15’s voice. Loki’s heart pounded, adrenaline spiking. If Mobius was out there, if he was injured –

"Loki?"

Loki blinked, eyes stinging as he peered through the smoky haze. A familiar figure rounded the corner: slightly older than when Loki had last seen him, and a lot more dishevelled, but wonderfully, gloriously alive. 

"Mobius," he gasped, shaky with relief. “We need to hurry. This place is about to –”

Mobius didn’t give him the chance to finish, pushing him up against the wall (or what was left of it) and kissing him with a desperation that knocked the air from Loki’s lungs, leaving him dazed and breathless.

"You were saying?"

Loki stared, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Another explosion echoed through the building, causing an alarmingly large chunk of the ceiling to come crashing down.

"C'mon," Mobius urged, grabbing his hand. "Follow me."

…as a promise

"You kissed me," Loki repeated. He still looked slightly dazed.

"Yep," Mobius chuckled fondly, reaching up to brush a smudge of ash from Loki’s sharp cheekbone. He’d opened a Time Door and practically dragged Loki through, stumbling out into the first place he’d thought of – the ash-blackened ruins of Pompeii. They’d be safe here, for a while at least. "You don’t usually act this surprised about it," he ventured. Loki’s bemused reaction was making him a little nervous.

"'Usually'." Loki frowned, a tell-tale furrow appearing between his brows. Mobius resisted the urge to smooth it away. "So… we’ve done this before?"

Oh. 

Mobius swallowed, suddenly hesitant. "Yeah, we’ve done this before," he said quietly. "Or… we will. I guess you haven’t got to that part yet."  He’d known this was a possibility, of course he had - with their timelines out of sync it was getting harder and harder to keep track of who remembered what. But Loki hadn't rematerialised for months, and suddenly catching sight of him like that... he hadn’t stopped to think, scared that Loki was about to vanish again.

The words came out in a jumbled rush. "I’m so sorry, Loki. If I’d known this was gonna be the first time - for you, I mean…" He started to move away - after all, from Loki’s perspective their relationship had just escalated several notches very quickly, the least Mobius could do was give him some space.

Loki instantly grabbed hold of his tie and reeled him back in.

"Loki -?"

All coherent thoughts fled from his mind as Loki pulled him into a searing kiss, their bodies pressed so closely together that he could feel Loki’s heart beating inside his chest. Mobius closed his eyes, losing himself in the delicious sensation of Loki’s lips on his. He’d have happily lived in this moment forever - but the multiverse, as always, had other ideas.

Loki broke away with a gasp, tensing in Mobius’ arms. 

"Already?" Mobius couldn't help the note of desperation that crept into his voice. "I thought we’d have more time."

Loki shook his head. "I don’t know how to stop it. I keep trying, but I – I can’t…"

"Shhhh. I know, sweetheart. This isn’t your fault." Mobius kissed the corner of Loki’s mouth, the fine lines around his eyes, that adorable cease between his brows. "Just hang in there, ok? We’re gonna figure out a way to fix this, I promise."

He wasn’t sure if Loki could still hear him; he kept talking anyway, murmuring soothing words until Loki faded from his arms.

[natendo-art]

✨ Passing time with you ✨ . .

Here it is! One incredibly soft one shot lokius comic 💕

Loki finds his way back to Mobius, and they start a new life together 💕

archiveofourown.org/works/52279174

This story was inspired by this gorgeous ficlet by @mirilyawrites(there was a snake eating it’s tail situation here with us both inspiring each other haha) 💕💕

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

what no I’m not writing a Lokius first dance ficlet wdym

[sofscribbles]

There was the slightest brush against his glowing fingertip, and he sucked in his breath. He extended his finger, reaching, and hit soft resistance, like he was pressing against someone else’s finger.

My first crack at Lokius with a New Year's ficlet. It's also my first digital art with the tablet I got for Xmas! I had this image as a pencil sketch in my notebook for a few weeks, and I thought it'd be a good first digital drawing. The story grew in my head as I drew. A good way to wrap the year.

[chrisbitchtree]

Hello to all my Harringrove friends! I’m sorry that I’ve run off and spent the last couple months inhaling Lokius content like it’s air, but I swear I’m still around!

Please accept this ficlet as a sign of life! 💕💕💕

***

It all started with a lemon and a bucket of tears. After he and Nancy had split, amicably, after finally both admitting that they were better as friends, Steve had needed a change.

He’d been with Nancy for almost fifteen years, since his junior year of high school, started bus job at his father’s company fresh off his graduation, and living in the house his parents had set them up in after Nancy graduated the next year, so he had decided that a move to California was the best way for him to get a fresh start.

He was going to be doing the same job at the San Diego office of his father’s company, but he’d refused the offer of a sleek, shiny downtown apartment, and had instead opted for a tiny, cottage style home nestled beside a citrus farm.

The first month, he’d been pumped full of adrenaline, riding the high of being on his own for the first time in his life. The job was going well, his new coworkers were friendly, and he found a little coffee shop that he liked to frequent before work and after running errands on weekend afternoons.

But then December hit and Steve realized that he’d be alone at Christmas for the first time ever. Sure, he could have gotten his dad to pull some strings, get him the time off, or he could have caught a flight on the evening of the 24th, but he was trying to be more independent, do his own thing for once, so he decided to hang out by himself in the little cottage.

But one Saturday afternoon in early December, he’d been mowing his lawn when he noticed a bright yellow lemon nestled against the fence. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, considering that the property next to him was covered in lemon, lime, orange, and grapefruit trees, but now, cradling the lemon in the palm of his hand, all Steve could think about was his mother’s famous lemon meringue pie.

It may not have been a traditional holiday dessert, but every single year, without fail, it graced their dining room table at the end of their Christmas feast, ending the meal on a bright note.

That’s when the tears started. Steve wasn’t a cryer. He hadn’t cried when he’d broken his nose while playing hockey sophomore year of high school, or when his beloved grandma Joan had died, or when he’d been a hair’s breadth away from flunking out of high school senior year, or when his childhood dog, Frankie had been hit by a car in front of his eyes. He wasn’t a robot, he had emotions, he just didn’t express them through tears.

But once the tears had started, they wouldn’t stop. He had to sit down the catch his breath, the lemon still clutched in his hands. What had he been thinking, moving so far away from home? From his parents, his best friend, Robin, who’d previously been so close by in Chicago, from his favourite diner that knew just how he liked his eggs, and Mrs. Smith, the owner of the local creamery, that still, even as Steve was approaching thirty, would give him an extra scoop of ice cream with a wink, telling him it was there little secret? Another stupid decision made by Steve Harrington, the idiot.

He was finally just getting himself to calm down, the tears turning from an ocean to a trickling stream, when he heard a voice through the trees.

“Hey,” the person said, hesitantly. “Are you alright, man?”

Steve turned his head, startled. He’d met one of the owners of the farm, a young, redheaded woman named Max, when she’d brought over a welcome fruit basket the day after he’d moved in, and she’d mentioned that she owned and ran the place with her brother, but Steve had never met him. Was this him?

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he told the disembodied voice as he tried desperately to wipe the tears from his face. “I’m just feeling a little homesick. It’s stupid, but I found a lemon on my lawn, and it made me think of this delicious lemon meringue pie that my mom makes at Christmas and then I thought about how I won’t be there this year, and I won’t get to see my parents or my friends, and I won’t get to have the pie, and it was just a lot hitting me at once.”

The voice made a humming noise. “I get that. My mom died when I was young, and I don’t keep in contact with my dad, and I know that’s not the same thing as what you have going on, but my point is that I know what it’s like to be lonely around the holidays. Do you need some company? I could use a break from picking fruit.”

Steve was tempted to say no. He didn’t want anyone seeing his tear streaked face or puffy eyes. He just wanted to cry in peace and get it out of his system. But the voice sounded nice and emphatic, so he accepted the offer. “Sure. The gate’s unlocked.”

Apparently using doorways wasn’t this guys style though, because a minute later, he landed with a thud on Steve’s lawn, having climbed the eight foot fence separating their properties.

The guy stood up and dusted himself off, and oh wow, he was beautiful. He was about Steve’s height, but had a completely different build, thick and muscled, where Steve was slim, with a swimmer’s build. He had shiny blond curls, all piled atop his head in a bun and held in place with a scrunchie, and he had on denim overalls that were ripped at the knee, a threadbare tank top on underneath. And his eyes. They were bright blue and shining like the ocean, and the crinkled at the corner as he smiled at Steve.

Steve suddenly felt hideous, his shirt soaked with tears and sweat from the yard work he’d been doing, and he knew his unwashed hair was sticking up all over the place. Not to mention his eyes that were probably rimmed in red, or his cheeks that were properly a similar shade, burning from embarrassment.

“Billy,” the man said, sticking out his hand for Steve to shake. His hand was dirty, but it was warm and dry, and it was the most human contact Steve had had in a month, so it was perfect.

“Steve,” he replied. “I’m sorry that you had to take time out of your busy day to console me. I don’t even cry. I never cry, and now I’m crying about a stupid lemon pie.”

“It’s ok,” Billy said, getting down on the lawn and taking a seat beside Steve. “Like I said, I needed a break, and I know where you’re coming from. Do you have the recipe? Maybe you could try to make it? I know it won’t be quite the same as seeing your family, but maybe it’ll help a little?”

Steve laughed. “I can’t bake. At all. I might just make things worse by fucking it up.” It was true. He couldn’t bake, and he was barely any better at cooking. He’d only passed Home Ec. senior year because of Robin, his partner. That’s how they’d met, working together begrudgingly at first, but then bonding over a chocolate soufflé that Steve had somehow managed to set on fire inside the oven, both of them cackling with laughter as they tried to remember how to use the fire extinguisher that they’d been given a lesson on their first day of class.

“I could help you.” Billy replied. “If you’d like, that is. I don’t want to pressure you into it if it’s just going to be upsetting. But I’m a pretty good baker, and I can supply the lemons if you want to bring everything else and the recipe over? Tomorrow, if you’re free? And if it turns out well, we could maybe make it again, for Christmas, if you’d like to come over? It’s just me and my sister, Max, I think you met her? at Christmas, so the extra company would be nice.”

Steve thought about it for a minute. It would be upsetting if he fucked up the pie, but Billy seemed nice, and capable, and something made Steve feel like he could trust the other man to make sure everything turned out ok. “Ok,” he nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal. And to thank you after, I could make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner? It’s the one thing I can cook well.”

Billy agreed, smiling.

“Oh,” Steve said, as Billy was about to return to his yard. “Will Max be there tomorrow night?” He suddenly realized that that might make it sound like Steve hoped Max would be there. She was nice, but she wasn’t who Steve was interested in.

“No, it’ll just be you and I. Will that be a problem?” He raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“No, no,” Steve said quickly. “Just the two of us is perfect.”

So it started with a lemon and a bucket of tears, but it ended with a lemon and the possibility of something great. Maybe Steve should cry more often.

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Post-2x06 Ficlet

I'm still in denial about some of episode 5. My brain keeps going HERE'S HOW LOKIUS CAN STILL WIN, REASON #3234, etc. And also I want my Time Revengers to be friends. (I also may have inadvertently written their version of the shawarma scene.) Spoilers for Loki, minus episode 6 because it hasn't come out yet. (Although, given how episode 5 went and Scattered to the Wind, maybe I should say spoilers for episode 6.)

Shall I Stay? Would It Be a Sin?

It takes innumerable failed attempts, and Loki is exhausted, but at long last, it works. The Throughput Multiplier gets into the launcher, or whatever (OB has a more scientific term for it, but Loki’s going to pass out any second, so he can’t be bothered to remember it), the button doesn’t stick from the radiation, and the aim is true. The rings in the Loom increase in size, the timelines can fit before the Loom overloads, and whoever is wearing the suit this time gets back before their body unspools like spaghetti. 

And it’s over. The TVA and the timelines and the multiverse are saved. Sylvie is looking at him like it’s time. 

He knows it’s time. 

He doesn’t want it to be time.

Mobius suggests pie, and Sylvie looks mutinous, but the six of them trek to the automat after sending Victor back to Chicago. They push the tables together, ignoring the warnings on the walls, and for a few minutes there is nothing but the sound of spoons scraping against ceramic. 

But Loki can feel Sylvie’s eyes on him as he sits, shoulder to shoulder with Mobius, and he knows it’s time to broach the topic. 

“I have to tell you all something,” he says softly, setting down his spoon and looking around at them all. Four more pairs of eyes swivel to him, and he takes a second to look at each of them, these people he’s come to care about. His friends. His chest aches and the pain nearly takes his breath away. He speaks anyway.

He tells them how they did not actually succeed on their first attempt, and these agents of a time-traveling institution don’t look particularly surprised by this, beyond their initial shock. It’s not the first time he’s told them something they don’t have memories of, after all. He tells them of the disastrous first attempt that scattered them across the timeline, back to where they were from. He doesn’t go into detail about their various lives; he will get to that later, when Sylvie restores their memories. He tells them how he tried to bring them all together to restore the TVA and save the multiverse, how ultimately it was not enough, how in the final seconds of their dissolving reality he finally learned to control the time-slipping. He explains his return to just before their first attempt, and trying over and over and over to get it right. 

“Okay. Wow, that’s a lot,” OB says, looking around at the others. 

“So… now what?” Casey asks.

Now I lose you again. Loki takes a steadying breath. “Now, if Sylvie is able to help, we’ll restore your memories and you can go back to your lives.”

Sylvie nods to the others, then glances at Loki, the look in her eyes changing to sympathy and encouragement. 

There’s a long pause as the agents digest this information. 

“Hold on, don’t we get a say in this?” Casey says. OB nods in agreement.

“You didn’t get a choice last time. He Who Remains abducted you from your life.” Loki says. But, not for the first time, he recalls finding Casey on the beach, escaping a high-security prison, on the brink of becoming a fugitive. His eyes find Sylvie at the thought. A fugitive, like his other. He wonders if she would still believe it is right for everyone to go back to their timelines if she knew, but it’s too late now; that argument is long over. 

“But it sounds like we aren’t getting a choice this time, either,” OB says. “What about our lives here?”

This isn’t how he expected it to go. After his conversation with Sylvie in the bar in Broxton, he’d been convinced he was doing what his friends wanted. Yet here they were, making the same arguments he had that night. He looks to Sylvie for help.

“This isn’t a life, OB. This is control. You’ve been controlled for who knows how long. You can be happy now.” Sylvie says.

“You can write your own story.” Loki adds.

“I am happy now,” OB says quietly, glancing very quickly at Casey before staring down at their pie.

“And what do you want, Loki?” Mobius says softly at his side, ripping his heart out with six carefully spoken words. He forces himself to turn and make eye-contact with Mobius, with the one it’s going to hurt the most to lose.

“It’s not about what I want,” Loki replies, just as softly. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

Mobius holds his gaze for a long moment, and Loki’s heart aches at the sadness he sees in the agent’s eyes.

“Do you really think you deserve to be alone?” Mobius murmurs finally, and Loki is launched back to before the Loom became unstable, before the Citadel and He Who Remains and being pruned, before Mobius was pruned. He remembers the last time the agent asked him that, in a time loop of Sif calling him a conniving, craven, pathetic worm.

“You will be alone forever, because you deserve it.”

Loki blinks, opens his mouth and closes it a few times. He can’t. He can’t do this, not if Mobius is going to break his heart and put it back together and break it again without meaning to in the span of a breath. 

“Mobius. Please don’t do this to me.” Loki whispers, his voice barely a breath. He hopes the others cannot hear, but he knows that Mobius can. 

Mobius opens his mouth to respond, but B-15 finally speaks up. “Let’s compromise, Sylvie,” she says calmly, somehow easily picking up that this is Sylvie’s idea in Loki’s mouth. “You and Loki can restore their memories, and we can all make our decision with both eyes open. Stay at the TVA, or return to our former lives.”

“Why not yours?” OB asks.

“Sylvie has already given them to me,” B-15 says. “Before the timeline fractured, actually.”

“And?” Casey prompts.

“I’m staying.” She says with confidence. Loki stares at her, and Sylvie whirls to face her.

“Why? You told me you thought you looked happy!” Sylvie demands.

“I did. I was a pediatrician. I did good work, I made kids feel better. But I lived in New York.” B-15 says, and Loki’s mind moves faster than her story. He knows what’s coming before she says it. “My practice was destroyed in 2012.”

“B-15, I–” The remorse and grief that strikes him like a knife cuts off his voice for a moment, and leaves him at a loss for words. He swallows. “I’m sorry. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry–”

“Loki, save it,” she says, but her voice is kind and calm. “If I knew you for a shorter amount of time, or I had not had as much time to process, I might be angry. If I could recall if there were any casualties, I might feel differently. But I’ve seen the recording of your life, and I know what brought you to my city and caused that Chitauri warrior to crash into my building.”

Memories of the bowels of a ship and a Mad Titan and his children taking Loki apart piece by piece with knives and magic and lies, putting him back together in the image of a follower of Thanos and a shell of his former self. He locks the thoughts away again, in that box that will one day need to open, but not today. 

“And anyway,” B-15 continues, thoughtfully, “I got my revenge, in a way. I arrested you after you stole the tesseract.”

Loki smiles involuntarily. “You hit me in slow motion.”

B-15 smiles back. “So we’re even. Sort of.” She turns to Casey, who sits beside her. “Your turn.”

Sylvie gets up. She still looks surprised that anyone wants to stay here. Casey looks at her, eyes a little wide with fear. 

“You can look, and then you can make a decision,” B-15 reminds him. He glances at OB, then back to Sylvie and nods.

Sylvie places her hands on the side of his head, and Loki watches the magic dance between her fingers, flow into Casey’s temples. After a moment, she pulls away and Casey opens his eyes. Loki catches a small frown on Sylvie’s face.

“I…I escaped prison.” Casey says. “I was about to be a fugitive. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life. That sounds hard. And lonely.”

Loki feels a little sympathetically embarrassed when everybody turns from Casey to look at Sylvie. 

Sylvie swallows, uncomfortable. “It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she says, voice somewhat choked.

“I don’t want to go back,” Casey says, with another glance at OB. 

Sylvie moves to OB, and it occurs to Loki that Casey did not actually choose to stay at the TVA with his answer. 

Sylvie repeats the spell, and when OB opens their eyes, they shake their head almost immediately. They meet Casey’s eyes before looking around the table, and Loki starts to wonder if something might be going on between these two.

“This is my life,” they say with conviction. “On the timeline, I’m alone, I’m unemployed, no one appreciates what I most enjoy doing. I don’t need anyone to appreciate it,” they add, flushing. “But on the timeline if no one appreciates it, I cannot support myself. Here, I have a purpose.”

A why, Loki thinks.

“And I’m happy.”

Loki thinks of fixing Mobius’s tie, of ruining his salad to illustrate a point. “You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.” “Come on, you’re the God of Mischief.”

“And I’m not alone.” Loki almost misses the fond smile OB gives Casey, because a hand grasps his shoulder and his stomach bottoms out. He turns to Mobius, and for a moment is lost in the eyes of this man who is so important to him, he scarcely has the words to explain it. 

It’s firm hands grasping his, the most solid and comforting thing he’d felt since he’d been kicked through that Time Door and began time-slipping. It’s a nervous expression in Pompeii as Loki wreaked havoc on the timeline that turned to irritation, and then turned to affection. It’s a hug on a windswept moor at the end of time before everything went to shit. It’s that first glance when Loki returned from the past, catching the recognition in Mobius’s eyes, the way Loki’s heart sped up in response. 

He’d tried to form the words before, as he watched Mobius walk through that Time Door in the void, before Loki time-slipped and almost never saw him again, as they watched the Loom explode the first time. He never had a chance. 

His heart is in his throat as, distantly, he hears OB say, “I’m staying.”

That’s three of his friends, far more than he’d expected, far more than perhaps he deserves. 

But now it’s Mobius’s turn, his first friend, his dearest, the one he expects will leave, the one who will be the hardest to let go. 

“Okay, Mobius,” Sylvie says, though Loki still holds Mobius’s gaze.

“Let Loki do it,” Mobius says.

“I don’t know how.” Loki replies, unable to raise his voice above a whisper.

“Yes, you do,” Mobius says, voice as steady and calm as it always is, tone confident and trusting. Then, he drops his voice to the same volume as Loki’s, though his tone remains the same. “You can do anything.”

You saw something in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. He’s doing it again.

Loki turns to him fully, and Mobius leans forward. Loki places his fingertips to the sides of Mobius’s head and shuts his eyes, recalling Sylvie’s description of the magic. And then he presses into Mobius’s mind and finds the memories the TVA had long locked away from him. He pulls them forward, and they watch them unfold together.

What? This isn’t right. But it has to be; they are the memories that were trapped in Mobius’s mind. 

The memories that come forth are not what Loki passed through when he time-slipped along the timeline. How is that possible? Everyone else’s lives were as they remembered. Yet somehow Mobius fell into another place in time, a place that was not his.

His true life along the timeline is far more lonely. He seems happy enough, has friends, dates occasionally, and is satisfied with his job. But he does not have children, never divorced or widowed or even married.

As the memories fade and the magic dissipates, Loki opens his eyes to see Mobius looking at him. He is too overwhelmed by what he has seen– and not seen– to feel anything under Mobius’s stare.

“That’s not how it happened,” Loki says before Mobius can speak. “You… you had children. I saw them.” He looks to Sylvie for help.

“We don’t create memories,” she reminds him. “Whatever you saw in his head is his true past.”

“But he had sons.” He looks back to Mobius. “You had two sons. You were raising them by yourself. You were reluctant to leave them.” Two boys couldn’t just disappear from existence. Not without being pruned. Could they?

Mobius looks thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe if you showed me your memories, we could figure out what happened.”

Loki nods, moving his hands back to Mobius’s temples. He shows Mobius the children, Kevin and Sean. He recalls their blond hair, the matches and burnt action figure and Kevin claiming he stole the matches. He remembers Mobius bribing the other boy, Sean, with a puppy, remembers Sean insisting on a snake. He’s startled out of the memories by Mobius, laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” Loki asks. He looks at Mobius, and realizes he’s red. 

“You didn’t notice?” He says. “Loki, they’re light-haired. They look like me, but… one of them is mischievous and plays with dangerous things, and the other likes snakes.”

Suddenly, B-15 and Sylvie start laughing, too. Loki glances at them, startled, and realizes OB and Casey are wearing surprised smiles. 

“What?” Loki asks them. “I don’t understand.”

“Mobius’s children are carbon copies of their parents,” B-15 explains. “They are identical to one parent in appearance, and one in personality.”

“It’s a classic trope in animated children’s movies,” OB adds. “Saves time for the artists, even if it’s not exactly realistic.”

Sylvie crosses her arms. “Come on, Loki.” She encourages. “Use that mischievous brain of yours.” 

Oh. Oh, Norns. It strikes Loki like a flash of his brother’s lightning. He whips back around to stare at Mobius, who has somehow turned even redder as their friends laugh around them. 

“You made them up.” Loki accuses. Mobius inclines his head. “How is that possible? How did they become real?”

“I don’t know,” Mobius says.

“Are they still real?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. “But you saved the multiverse, so if they are, I’m sure that me is back with them.”

“Oh my God, Loki, you’re missing the point!” OB shouts gleefully. 

“I’m not, I’m waiting for you lot to go away,” Loki snaps, but he must look as dazed as he feels when he turns to look at them all, because they all laugh again. A bubbly joy rolls up in his chest at the sound, and he can’t find it in him to be angry or annoyed with these meddlers. His friends are alive, and they’re all staying here with him (except perhaps Sylvie, but he knows where to find her, and Mobius hasn’t given his answer yet, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious what they all think his answer will be). He has friends. 

“Aw, come on, we’ve been waiting for this forever!” Casey teases. Loki turns to snarl at him, but Mobius chooses that moment to put his hand on Loki’s leg, and every thought in Loki’s mind vanishes. 

“Give them a moment, there will be plenty of time to tease them later,” B-15 says reasonably, standing up. Casey grumbles, but he and OB follow her. 

Sylvie rolls her eyes at Loki and Mobius. “Like a couple of children with their first crush, I swear,” she mutters, which is just not fair. Loki didn’t manifest a fantasy about his and Mobius's imaginary children somehow strong enough to supersede his real past. 

When the door shuts behind her, Loki turns back to Mobius, who is still watching him. 

“What do you want, Loki?” he asks, an echo of his earlier question. His eyes are gentle as he gazes at Loki, and Loki feels every wall he built around his heart from the moment he bore witness to Mobius's (imagined) past to protect himself against this point, crumble to dust. 

“I want you to stay.” Loki whispers, hearing his voice shake. “I don’t want to have to say good-bye to you.”

Mobius smiles. He reaches out, cradles Loki’s face in his hands, and kisses him. Loki presses closer, clutching the lapels of Mobius’s jacket, and kisses back. 

“I love you,” Loki whispers, kissing Mobius again and again. 

“I love you, too,” Mobius responds. “I’m sorry that there was ever any moment, or ever a version of me, that made you think I wasn’t going to stay. That made you think I didn’t love you.”

[myckicade]

If I may humbly submit a Lokius song for your approval: "So Much (For) Stardust", by Fall Out Boy, is really hitting me in the heart after the finale...

"In another life you were my babe, in another time, you were the sunshine of my lifetime, what would you trade the pain for? I'm not sure"

I mean, the song even has a reprise to the first song on the album, which is basically a time loop! What could be more them?

Oh...

*whimpers*

I... Yes, we're just gonna', um... *adds to playlist*

Thank you. That's just perfect. I'd never heard that song before your suggestion, and now my heart is singing in ache, break, and want.

*jots down another ficlet idea*

[magess]

Omg I think I'm going to write a Lokius ficlet.

[cha-melodius]

lokius kiss #22 please

(slowly working my way through the rest of these, thank you again to all who sent them in!)

22. …in a rush of adrenaline.

Things really could not have gone worse.

It was as if the variant had known they were coming, like he'd been waiting for them to arrive knowing exactly what they came to do, and instead of having the advantage, they had been immediately thrown off. Split up and sent on the run to save their own skins. And look, Loki's made some stupid decisions in his life, but he knows very well when running is his best and only option. It's just that usually when he's running, he's alone. He's not worried about anyone else, certainly not ridiculous Midgardians who can barely stand up for themselves.

He'd like to pretend that's all this is—that it's just because he knows Mobius can't defend himself—but that's becoming harder and harder. The other man means something to him, whether he likes it or not. Which must be why, instead of running away, he finds himself running headlong toward the danger, heart climbing further into his throat with every passing minute that he doesn't find his partner.

Finally, he catches a glimpse of silver hair, and he nearly sobs in relief when he turns the corner to find Mobius hiding in an alley. Mobius automatically brandishes some kind of long pipe at him, holding it in front of him like the multiverse's least effective pruning baton, only to drop it to the ground with a clatter when he sees it's only Loki.

"Jesus, Loki, it's you. I thought—"

Loki's not thinking when he closes the space between them, drawing Mobius into his arms, and certainly not when he kisses him. Frankly, he's just as surprised as Mobius seems to be, but somehow Mobius recovers first. He grabs onto Loki's waist and pulls him closer, kissing back with nearly as much desperation. Loki's palm ends up pressed to his chest, and he can feel Mobius' heart racing—from fear, from excitement, from both, maybe. He's not sure.

All he knows is that his own heart is beating just as fast.

(Read all my kiss ficlets)

[leos-regression-cove]

I want to work on the rest of my fics but all I can work on after long days of constant stimulation and stress, the only thing I can bare to work on is All The Lessons.

And not in order either, just random chapters in tiny little chunks of scenes, mostly the adult parts.

It's like "oh. Okay, I can write some Lokius" and that's what I do but none of the fun little stuff is getting written.

I mean, I probably will get back to the rest of my stories soon, but the ficlets especially have been SUCH A PAIN.

The chapters are short so I don't really mind too much? but idk, making both a full story in a chapter AND making it short and consumable has been super difficult, because all the chapters or even the story in general is based off just this vague idea without its own arc, but because the chapters are so short, it feels like I can't make a full story or little episode stories like I do for my main stories.

Idk it's frustrating. If someone has any ideas on how to get myself to actually work on these little ficlets, I'd love to hear them but tbh I think the main thing that'll make me actually write is just some chill time.

I don't think I'll be making anything especially quickly until summer though :(, but Fridays are often slow for me so who knows, maybe I'll be able to do some writing then.

[greymantledlady]

It’s only about three minutes, perhaps, before Mobius feels the boneless softness drain out of Loki’s body, pressed up against him. He feels Loki’s face drag away from where it had been pressed against his collarbone, feels the cool absence when Loki’s body peels reluctantly away from him – and yeah, that’s not right, something’s wrong for sure. A minute earlier Loki had been wrapped around him like a particularly clingy vine, and now he’s pulling away.

‘Okay, hang on, Loki,’ he says quietly. ‘Where’re you off to?’

Loki goes still for a long moment. It’s dark, but Mobius can hear the sound of him swallowing in his throat before he speaks. ‘Just – taking my leave,’ he says eventually, his voice light.

Too light, Mobius thinks, and yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s going on here.

‘“Taking your leave,” huh,’ he says, keeping his voice low and gentle, like speaking to an animal running scared. He can feel the quivering tension in Loki’s body next to him, a bird poised on the verge of flight, and he doesn’t move. Not yet.

‘I – yes,’ Loki says stiffly. ‘Simply saving us both from the necessity for an awkward – post-coital discussion of boundaries. I thought you might appreciate it,’ and he sounds so hollow about it, so resigned, that Mobius has to let out a quiet laugh.

‘Always with the big words, huh,’ he says, fond, and then puts out a placating hand when he feels Loki tense up. It lands, soft, on the delicate skin of Loki’s wrist, and he thumbs it gently, feeling Loki’s racing pulse trapped beneath the skin. ‘Hey, hey – Loki. It’s okay. Breathe.’

‘I am breathing,’ Loki says with dignity. ‘I’m breathing, and I – ’ He cuts himself off, bites the words to a halt.

‘Yeah?’ Mobius prods. ‘You what?’ He sweeps his thumb across Loki’s pulse again, back and forth.

Loki takes a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ he says.

‘Sure you are,’ Mobius says.

‘I am!’

‘I know,’ Mobius says. ‘Do you want to leave?’

There’s a quick sharp intake of breath as Loki goes still, like a kid caught doing something bad, his body ceasing all motion. Mobius gives him a moment, but Loki stays frozen, so he strokes his wrist again and goes on talking. ‘Cause I don’t want you to leave. Unless you want to, of course, but, Loki – I don’t think you do. What do you think?’

‘I – ’ Loki says, and his breath shudders. Mobius waits. ‘I don’t understand,’ Loki says at last, sounding lost. ‘What was this for? What do you want from me?’

‘What do I – Loki,’ Mobius says, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘What do I want from you, really? Loki, do I seem like the kind of person who goes in for one night stands to you?’

He senses Loki prickling. ‘How could I possibly know whether you are or aren’t,’ he says defensively. He yanks his wrist out of Mobius’s light hold in a spiteful little movement, and Mobius sighs.

‘I’m not,’ he says, and then, because Loki seems to need this spelled out directly, ‘Loki, I like you.’

There’s a long pause.

‘You…’ Loki says eventually, ‘you – oh.’ He sounds a little stunned. He’s not touching Mobius yet, but Mobius can almost feel him warily softening.

‘Yeah,’ he says patiently. ‘Now can you just – come on. Get back in here.’

He opens his arm and waits. One second, two, then three, and Loki lets out a long breath, and then he’s slotting up against Mobius again. Mobius scritches soothing fingers against his back and feels the exact moment that Loki melts back against him.

‘You like me,’ Loki says, a few minutes later. ‘You really showed your hand there, you know. Quite embarrassing for you, really.’ His tone would be a lot more irritating if he didn’t sound so delightedly pleased with himself, and if he didn’t have his long fingers tangled in Mobius’s own, his head tucked into Mobius’s shoulder.

‘Uh-huh,’ Mobius says indulgently. ‘Real embarrassing.’ He turns his head by a few degrees, enough to drop an easy kiss against Loki’s hairline.

‘Are you mocking me?’ Loki says, indignant, and Mobius chuckles into his hair.

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Just glad you’re here, sweetheart.’ As he’d expected, Loki seems to almost physically bask in the endearment, and Mobius runs his fingers up and down his back. ‘Go to sleep, Loki. We’ll both be here in the morning, okay?’

‘Okay,' Loki says, almost meek, and Mobius can feel his smile against the skin of his neck.

[tonysiron]

Y'all better go read my fic rn i worked so hard on the recent chapter ty