Queuing this up in advance in lieu of a Seven Sentence Sunday post, because I've barely gotten anything new written since posting my last fic and am still very busy this weekend 😅
Thanks for tagging me: @andthekitchensinkao3, @insert-witty-user-name-here, @lgwilt, @mobiusismycomfortcharacter, @lokimobius, and @elodiah! I don't know if I've ever done this style of challenge before, and this sounds really fun 😊
Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words (feel free to interpret however you would like; if not on AO3, can be on Tumblr or FFNET, etc!).
Most Hits: Slipping Through My Fingers (3,972 hits)
Lokius (G). A speculation fic written before any episodes of the second season were released, having seen only glimpses of Loki's timeslipping. Loki and Mobius reunite, but Loki is reluctant to let Mobius touch him, in case of transferring the effects of the 'slipping to him.
2nd Most Kudos: Let the World Keep Turning Without Us (304 kudos)
Lokius (T). Filling in the missing scenes between the first and second episodes of S2 with some serious shipper goggles and wishful thinking. Loki and Mobius take some time to recover from their brushes with death before plunging headlong into the next crisis.
3rd Most Comments: (Tied with Slipping Through My Fingers, so I'll go with) Fox on the Run (14 comment threads)
Lokius (G). Loki overhears some office gossip, but his ignorance of the true meaning of "silver fox" leads to some miscommunication and hilarity.
4th Most Bookmarks: After Time Has Passed (41 bookmarks)
Lokius (T). Post S2 fix-it (one of several I've written). The TVA crew gets Loki out of the multiverse tree.
5th Most Words: Taking You Slow (4,885 words)
Mobius x Reader (E). PWP, first time. Lots of foreplay and aftercare.
Least Words: Freely Given (379 words)
Lokius (G). A Fluffuary fill from 2022, following the prompts pet names, praise, and blushing.
I'm very late to the party and I've completely lost track of who's already done this, so I'll skip tagging. If you see this, haven't done this already, and would like to, then please consider yourself tagged!
Imagine: Mobius explaining to Loki that you are a young Variant who is on the run by the TVA and that you’ve been causing mischief across the timeline, even assisting the Loki they’re trying to catch.
With the minutemen following behind them, Loki and Agent Mobius walked through the renaissance fair which had become the next scene of the Loki Variants latest attack. Mobius let out a sigh. “So… It seems this Loki we’re tracking, isn’t working alone. He’s got an accomplish. Another Variant who’s on the run from the TVA.” He began. Loki could only furrow his eyebrows. His Variant had an accomplice? Seemed very unlikely any Loki would with someone else, as opposed to on his own. But nonetheless, he would do his best to assist with the case all the same. “This other Loki….he has a partner in crime?” He quizzed. Agent Mobius nodded. As far as they aware, this Variant seemed to be showing up in the same places as the Loki. Maybe they had some sort of deal? Perhaps helping one another with each other’s plans? It seemed strange. But Loki and Mobius would need to be vigilant no matter what.
“Seems so.” Mobius nodded.
“Do we know who this Variant is exactly?” Loki quizzed. Surely they had some notion?
“Yeah actually… I do.” Mobius sighs. “The Variants been on run for quite awhile actually. Since she was a little girl.” Loki paused.
“I beg your pardon?” Loki titled his head. Loki and Mobius both stopped in their tracks. Mobius let out another sigh. “Her name is Y/N. She was brought into the TVA years ago. She was only a child. And I was the one sent to interrogate her. Try not to frighten her.”
Loki blinked. Was he really hearing this? The TVA bringing into a child?! It was absurd! But he continued to listen to the analyst. “I’m sorry… The TVA arrested a child for crimes against the timeline? That’s…beyond deranged.” He knew the TVA weren’t the most kindest of people. But children? Innocent kids who had done no wrong? It made him feel uneasy. Even he didn’t go to those sort of lengths.
“Yeah tell me about… That’s the one thing I disagree on. Kids shouldn’t be involved.” He frowned. “But yes, they brought her in when she was only a child.”
“What happened then?” Loki questioned.
“Y/N…though she was young, she was smart. She outwitted me. Stole my Tempad, and escaped the TVA. She’s been on the run ever since. She’s likely a teenager now.” Mobius replied.
“Right…” Loki chuckled. “Sorry uh, I need a moment to process that.” It was certainly a strange thought…
sleepover submission: you already know my ass is soft for bunny and mobius - and i’m curious to know what their first time was like 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
for those who don't know, bunny is the reader in my fic 'loop' so give it a read if you want the context, but since this is a prequel it isn't actually required lmao
warnings for smut (obv, with daddy kink and thigh riding) and alcohol consumption, other than that just wholesome awkwardness
Honestly, from the start you knew going out for happy hour after work was sort of a bad idea, because you knew you were agreeing to go for all the wrong reasons. The most wrong reason? Easily your crush on your boss, Mobius.
And you weren't even being subtle about it, either: not after you'd gotten a few drinks in you at least. You kept glancing at him from across the bar, just waiting for him to come talk to you but also hoping that he wouldn't because you knew if he did, you would make a fool of yourself.
"Hey," he finally greeted as he joined you, looking down at you with a little smile as you shyly stared at your drink.
"Hey," you returned.
"I have to admit, I came here with a question for you," he began. "Whaddaya keep lookin' at me for?"
You felt your cheeks warm slightly. "Oh, that? I just like your tie, I wonder where you got it."
"It's standard issue," he nodded. "You have one too."
"Right," you remembered.
"But I like that you wear the dresses instead," he smiled, reaching down to rub the hem of your sleeve for a moment, his fingers brushing against your arm. Your heart was already racing just from this. Was he flirting? You couldn't tell, but you licked your lips slightly and looked up at him again. "You could pull off the shirt and tie, if you wanted."
"Could I pull them off of you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, and you loved the way he coughed a little and glanced away, his own cheeks getting a bit pink.
"Uh, yeah, that too," he decided as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, if we left now, and we shared a cab home, would you wanna-- and this is just a hypothetical-- stop by my place?"
So, with an innocuous excuse to your fellow coworkers, you and Mobius took a car to his apartment; it was really nice, actually, not just because it was more expensive than yours but because it was also expertly decorated (if a bit minimalist).
"Cool records," you noticed as he went to get you both some more drinks.
"Thanks," he hummed, and you walked over to the shelf as your heels clicked on his tile floor.
"Do you have a favorite era?" you asked as you started to thumb through the albums, noticing lots of bands you recognized and even more that you didn't.
"Mm, tie between 1540 and 1970," he decided.
"I always thought the 1540s were underrated musically," you joked.
"Put something on, if you want," he offered. "Maybe not the 1540s stuff, though... not exactly the mood I'm going for."
"Maybe it's the mood I'm going for!" you protested, making him laugh as he sat on the couch behind you, setting two whiskey glasses on the glass table in front of him. But you ultimately decided against it, finding a Fleetwood Mac album and letting that play softly instead, seeing him nod as you walked slowly to join him on the couch.
"Nice choice," he praised, but he blinked quickly when instead of sitting beside him, you straddled his legs and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Oh," he sighed.
"Is this okay?" you asked softly.
"Yeah, more than okay," he nodded, reaching out carefully to rest his hands on your legs as if he was worried it might offend you; but the warmth of his hands on your bare skin just made you sigh in relief.
It was you that leaned in first to kiss him, but he deepened it right away, reaching up with one hand at the back of your neck as he sat up and sighed slightly against your lips. Fuck, he was a good kisser; you'd already had a bit of a thing for his lips because that damn moustache was always there drawing attention to them, and they felt better than you even imagined.
So, you really couldn't help yourself when you started to rock your hips slightly, rubbing yourself against his khakis; with your dress on, it meant only your panties protected your pussy as it started to get so much wetter than it had any right to be.
"Look at you," he cooed, smiling playfully and pulling back from the kiss to glance down at your hips as they moved. "Rubbing yourself on me like a needy little bunny."
You started to slow down, but he grabbed your hips and guided you to continue.
"No no, don't stop, it's cute," he grinned. "It suits you actually: bunny. Can I call you that?"
"Only if I can call you something," you bargained.
"My friends call me Mo--"
"Daddy," you finished instead, making his expression barely move and yet change completely. You smiled as soon as you saw the look in his eyes; Daddy's home.
He kissed you again, rough and fierce and deliciously dominating, continuing to guide you to grind on his thigh. You just went along with it, running your fingers through his hair and moaning every time your clit got stimulation, but it still wasn't enough. You hastily reached down to work his belt, and he gasped a bit as he pulled back from the kiss.
"Are we... really gonna do this?" he breathed.
"If you want to," you answered softly.
"Fuck, are you kidding? I've wanted this for ages," he laughed a little. "I just-- I wasn't sure if we should."
"Oh, we shouldn't," you agreed, "but we're going to."
"Yeah," he nodded slightly, watching enraptured as you reached into his pants. "Yeah, we are, aren't we?"
This time it was you that nodded, kissing him again as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock and pulled it out.
He seemed a bit confused when you got up and stepped back, but he smiled as you reached under your dress to shimmy out of your panties, kicking them away and starting to get back on top of him, but he stopped you: "No, take the dress off, too-- I wanna see all of you," he instructed, not especially demanding but just as dominating as he watched you with a small smirk and his hand lazily stroking his cock.
You stripped for him, realizing that he would still be fully dressed while you were naked which was something you hadn't even known would turn you on. It certainly hadn't before, but right now it made your thighs clench together instinctively.
When you straddled him again, he looked up at you with the most fascinating (and fascinated) look in his face; you guided his cock to your entrance and slowly sank down, moaning loudly at the stretch.
"Fuck," he whispered, tightening his grip on your hips as you took him all the way inside you. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you answered, though the hoarseness of your voice made it unconvincing. "It's been a while..."
"Can't imagine why," he smiled slightly, "you're such a pretty girl, everybody must want you..."
"Yeah, maybe they do, but I've only got eyes for this one guy," you explained, gripping his shoulders to balance yourself and waiting for the sting to fade so you could move. "Problem is, he's my boss."
"I bet he wants you too," Mobius nodded. "I bet he thinks about you every night, dreams about having you all to himself."
"Then he should've told me," you smiled, finally moving on top of him as his head fell back against the top of the couch.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he hissed, and you reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt, reaching inside to rub his chest and collarbone under the fabric. "You... you were talking about me, right?"
"Yes," you laughed. But when you said it again, it was in an entirely different way: "yes..."
You gasped when he grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, pinning you to the couch and beginning to thrust quickly into you.
"Fuck!" you yelped, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down by his tie for a sloppy and hungry kiss.
Of course, it wasn't too much later that you came, but what was really surprising was the second time that you came. And before it had even really hit you, the third made you think you might pass out before he was done with you...
"Daddy," you whimpered, eyes rolling back in your head.
"C'mon bunny, you can give me one more, right? You just look so pretty when you come on my cock," he encouraged.
"Oh fuck," you sobbed, "daddy, daddy, daddy..."
"Just let go, baby," he breathed through his teeth, "fuck, I'm close, too. Can I come inside you?"
"Please," you begged, arching your back as the first wave of a third orgasm washed over you, "oh fuck, daddy, I'm coming!"
"I know, bunny, me too," he groaned, "fuck!"
He stopped moving suddenly, your walls clenching around him still as you felt him fill you, your chest heaving with each panting breath that didn't seem to do much to actually let you catch it.
He collapsed beside you, the couch just barely big enough to fit you both as you laid there together, basking in the afterglow of what you'd just done.
"So, your friends call you Mo?" you asked, staring up at the ceiling.
"I was gonna say Moby, you interrupted me," he chuckled.
Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.
Word Count: 1.8k
Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent.
It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.
Unless you were Mobius, that is.
[09:45:00]
Technically, he shouldn't be here.
His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.
But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.
You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.
Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.
"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."
"That'd be great, thanks."
You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.
As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.
"How'd you know?"
"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.
You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.
Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.
Both a confidant, and a stranger.
"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.
"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.
Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.
"Good choice, this one's my favorite."
"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.
"I'm on the clock-"
"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."
[09:52:16]
"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.
It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"
"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.
"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."
"I think this one will stand out."
"What is the date, anyway?"
"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."
"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"
"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.
You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.
While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.
"So Mobius... like, from maths?"
"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.
Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.
"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."
"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"
"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"
Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.
"Or having pie in good company."
You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"
[09:59:06]
"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.
Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.
"How would you know that?"
"I just know things." He shrugged.
"Like what?" You challenged.
"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."
"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."
"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"
"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."
You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.
"What about me?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.
"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."
[10:04:59]
The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.
Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.
The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.
"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.
Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.
"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."
"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."
"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"
You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.
"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."
"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."
Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.
