#i’ll clarify this in the morning or whatever

[spottedgardeneelstan]

by the way,

i find it important to point out that shen qingqiu is an unreliable narrator BY HIS OWN DESIGN.

i’m sure it’s obvious or whatever, but a majority of the things shen qingqiu is “oblivious” of, he is actively trying to be- he doesn’t want to change his preexisting worldview.

he’s not unreliable because he’s stupid, he’s unreliable because he’s afraid of change.

[whentherewerebicycles]

PHEW okay work got unexpectedly very busy this morning and I am feeling a little bit frazzled. but I think I am basically done for the day! I have some more work to do on this one project but I blocked off two hours to finish it before I meet with my lead tomorrow morning. I also did two of my time-sensitive tasks (ordering IUI trigger shot + donor vial to be delivered by Thursday) and emailed a couple students. although I am slightly frazzled I am also feeling :)))))) because new job just sent out the formal announcement to all the faculty and staff and I am :))))) it’s really really happening. it’s really really REAL. I got the job offer two and a half weeks ago and I feel like I’ve spent that entire time in this half-frozen state where I haven’t been able to quite let myself believe that it’s actually going to come through. but it IS. it’s real!!!!!!!!!! I am so nervous and so unbelievably psyched!!!!!!!!!

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Happy Anniversary!

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Lando Norris x fem!Reader, established relationship

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: cursing, angsty, sad fic with happy ending

Masterlist

The soft morning sunlight peeks through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft rosy glow over the room. You take a deep breath, a gentle smile settling on your face at the realisation that it’s already been a year – a year of being loved, of sharing every thought and story, of new experiences and memories... One year of being married to the love of your life. It’s hard to believe.

You turn on your side to face your husband, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sleep peacefully. Your hand is softly stroking his chest while you smile with adoration. “Good morning, baby,” you say when you notice the change in his breathing.

Lando merely grumbles, not quite awake yet. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer to his side, letting you cuddle up against his warm body. Pressing your face against his chest, you leave a few kisses along the bare skin.

Lando sighs, stretching out his body. “Good morning, darling,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile excitedly, sitting up to look at the handsome man you get to call your husband.

“Do you know what day it is?” You whisper.

Lando frowns as he wipes his tired eyes, “What day?” 

The confusion is evident in his voice. Regardless, you nod excitedly. Your smile falters as you watch the wheels turning in his head, gathering that he doesn’t remember. You move to the bedside table, rumbling through the drawer until you find what you’re searching for.

The expression on Lando’s face changes from confusion to guilt when you proudly show the present you’ve wrapped up so neatly, the realisation settling in. “Fuck. It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

You nod, “I got you a little something, to celebrate,” you clarify. The smile on your face is gentle, comforting, and it nearly makes Lando believe you don’t care that he forgot.

“Oh, baby, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary. God, that’s bad, isn’t it? The first year, and I’ve already screwed it up. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck.” Lando rubs a hand over his face, his expression pained.

“It’s okay, Lan. I know you’ve been busy,” you reassure him, “besides, it’s only the first year, we’ll have many more anniversaries.” You offer your gift again. “Just open the present, please? I want to know what you think of it!” You say enthusiastically.

Lando’s not fully convinced yet, “But I haven’t got anything for you,” he protests.

“Doesn’t matter, I already got this for you. Open, please!”

Lando sighs, but doesn’t resist further. However, the guilt of his forgetfulness settles deeper when he opens the carefully wrapped gift. You had taken the time and effort to make something, rather than buy a present, and he couldn’t even bother to remember your first wedding anniversary. He felt like an asshole.

At his silence, you felt the need to explain, “It’s a jar of notes,” you take the jar from his hands and open it. “It’s got different things: my favourite memories of us, things I love about you, what reminds me of you, just whatever I could think of. Then, when you’re gone for work, you can pull one out whenever you miss me,” you demonstrate, grabbing a note from the full jar, “or you could just call me, or whatever.” You put the piece of paper back, close the jar, and look up to your husband.

“Do you like it?”

Lando smiles lovingly, “I love it! Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says before kissing you softly.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get you anything. I swear I’ll make it up to you. In fact, I’ll make a reservation for tonight right now, we can go out to dinner together to celebrate, and if you want we can go shopping today too, I’ll buy you anything you want—” 

You cut him off with a laugh. “That’s not necessary, Lan. I know you love me. Besides, I’d much prefer to spend today at home with you, while you’re still here,” you say, stroking his face fondly before you pull him in for a kiss.

Regardless of your objections, Lando still manages to make a reservation for tonight at your favourite restaurant. He doesn’t make a single comment when you order the salmon despite his dislike for fish, and for weeks after he anticipates every single need you might have before you can utter even a syllable. He brings you the snacks he knows you love most on his way home, makes homecooked meals for you (however bad at cooking he is – he switched to take away after the first two times), and watches your favourite shows with you even though he hates them. He does anything and everything he can think of to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Unfortunately, his efforts only lasted a few weeks. Now, you knew what you were getting into when you married Lando last year. You had been in a relationship with him for several years before the wedding, so you are well aware of the time he needs to put into his work, even outside of office hours, not to mention the amount of stress and anxiety that come with racing at such a high level. That’s why it doesn’t bother you that much that your husband forgot about your anniversary; you know the pressure he’s under.

However, lately, his work has become even more time-consuming, more stressful and he’s become less attentive. It’s no surprise with how well the last races have been going – Lando’s finishing on the podium every weekend – that pressures have increased. He’s no longer fighting for only the constructor’s championship, but he has an actual chance at the driver’s championship too. The team is excited, and working hard, and the same is expected of Lando. Additionally, the fans have been putting more pressure. You know how much Lando’s affected by the stress of it all; he doesn’t want to disappoint, and now that the car’s performing, the only factor that could cause a loss, is him. The pressure, stress, and anxiety are taking over his body. He’s becoming more forgetful and instead of spending his free time with you, his wife, he’s thinking about the next race’s strategy, working out to improve his performance, or practising the tracks. Formula 1 had taken over the number one spot in his life.

You get where he’s coming from, you really do, but one of the most important things, if not the most important thing, in a relationship is communication and recently, Lando wasn’t communicating with you. He doesn’t tell you about the pressure or anxiety, all you know is from reading the man. After the number of years you’d spent together, you know him well enough to be aware of his struggles without him having to tell you.

You’d address the issue, ask him to talk to you, but you don’t when. Lando’s gone so much that you barely see him. His early mornings and early nights don’t align with your schedule; Lando’s gone before you’re properly up and has already eaten when you get home from work. The both of you have always been busy before, but at least you’d always eat together, and talk about your day. Now that those moments are missing, you feel lonely.

Lando has no clue of the things running through your mind. After all, you never told him. Even during the summer break, you keep quiet about your feelings, not wanting it to affect Lando’s performance during the races when you know how hard he's working to do well. Besides, it does get better during the break; Lando’s home more often and his mind's not as occupied with thoughts about his work. Nevertheless, he’s gone most of the time. You had expected for Lando to spend his time off with you, but instead, he hangs out with his friends.

Although the break has positively affected his behaviour, Lando's forgetfulness remains the same. You had told him about your friend’s birthday party several times during the past weeks, asking him to come along. When he promised you would, you thought things were finally going back to normal. But now, as you are waiting for your husband to come home so you can leave for the party together, you realise nothing has changed.

It’s already quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes later than you had said you would leave. You are ready to go – makeup glowing, favourite dress on, present wrapped and purse checked – when you decide you won’t wait any longer. You had given Lando plenty of chances to show his care for you and to consider you in his plans. You always visited his friends with him when he wanted you to, and he couldn’t show up for one party you asked him to come to? You leave the house, no messages sent and your phone on do-not-disturb: let him worry.

You plaster a fake smile on your face when you arrive to your friend’s house, pulling her into a hug when she opens the door. 

“Hey, girl! Happy birthday!” You say in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe you’re finally 25!” You continue, squeezing her tight.

“Thanks, babe,” she responds when you let each other go, looking over your shoulder. “Where’s Lando? Parking the car?”

“Uh, no, actually. He couldn’t come.” The awkward smile on your face says enough, she knows not to ask any further.

“Oh, okay. That’s too bad. I would have loved to see him. You know, congratulate him on his podiums, it’s been going well lately, no?” She walks you into the house as she speaks, turning her head to watch your reaction.

“Yeah, the team’s really improved.” Once again, the tight smile on your face is clear.

A frown forms on her face at your reaction and she’s about to ask further, whether everything is okay, when she’s interrupted.

“Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a while! How are you? You never come to the races anymore,” Carlos tells you with a fake pout.

You look at him in surprise. You always forget that everyone in Monaco knows each other. Carlos and your friend met at the golf club and had somehow become good friends. Usually, you liked seeing him, but tonight you would’ve preferred not to see him. Not because you don’t enjoy his company, but simply because you’d rather not talk about Lando, whom he’ll undoubtedly ask about.

And so, your mask shoots up when he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, Carlos. I’m good. How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing well. You heard the news? That I’m going to Williams next year?” You nod, saying a quick “Of course, congrats!” Naturally, you heard the news; everyone had. But this conversation was already heading in the wrong direction. “Yes, glad to have found a place that will appreciate me, even if the team’s not doing the best right now. Talking about the best, Lando’s been doing so well. You must be proud of him, hm?” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” you say indifferently.

Carlos frowns at your reaction. “Everything good between you two?”

Your smile drops, apparently, you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs, “Just the way you react, is all. You seem kind of tense…”

You sigh, letting a silence fall for a few seconds. You might as well tell him, he’ll figure it out eventually. “You’re right. Things… haven’t been so great lately.”

Carlos frowns at your comment. “Between you and Lando, you mean? He didn’t say anything was up, he seemed fine the last time I spoke to him,” he says confusedly.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “I’m not surprised. He seems to be clueless to what’s been going on.”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink, “Have you talked to him about it?”

“That’s the issue. Lando’s never home, we barely speak anymore. He’s been so stressed with work that nearly all his free time is dedicated to racing. He gets up early and goes to bed before I’ve even had dinner. I’ve had no chance to talk to him.”

The frown deepens, and he breathes out a puff of air. “That’s tough.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“No, it’s fine don’t worry about it. Sometimes you need to get it off your chest.”

You look up at Carlos, hesitating to continue your story.

“Has the break not changed anything?” He pokes further.

Another sigh. “No, not really. Lando’s using his time off to catch up with his friends. And his forgetfulness has clearly not improved either.” 

“His forgetfulness?”

“Yeah, he forgot about the party, clearly.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes again.

“What else did he forget about?” Carlos asks with a frown.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” you hesitate, “but he forgot our anniversary. I told him it’s not a big deal, which it isn’t, but it’s just that everything is adding up. I feel kind of alone in the relationship at the moment, like he doesn’t really care about me anymore. How can I think otherwise, when we barely see each other, let alone speak?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That really sucks.” 

You smile sadly, as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“It’ll work out in the end,” you tell him. You hope. “Maybe tonight he’ll realise he forgot something important, again. Maybe that’ll make a difference.” You offer an awkward smile.

Carlos breathes in deeply, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get your mind off it, huh?” he says while directing you towards the fridge.

You nod, follow him, and accept the drink he offers you. Tonight is not about Lando, it’s about your best friend and the fact she turned 25. You are not thinking about your husband until you get home.

– – – – – 

You slam the front door of your shared apartment louder than necessary when you enter. Nevertheless, there’s no reaction when you enter the dark apartment. You switch the lights on, noticing Lando isn’t in the living room or kitchen. Did he really go to sleep not knowing where you were or who you were with? Whether you were safe or not? Lando obviously didn’t remember the birthday party or he would’ve come, yet he didn’t text you to ask you where you were? Does he truly care so little about you? Does he even love you anymore? It feels like a punch to the gut – like someone had ripped your heart out. 

The man had been basically avoiding you for weeks, barely saying a word at the moments you did see him, but at least he was still awake to see if you arrived okay. Now he doesn't even stay up to check if you get home safely anymore? Or text you to ask where you are? To say you are upset is an understatement, you feel angry and neglected at his disregard. You feel lonely instead of beloved. The lump in your throat is a painful reminder of how close you are to crying. But you don’t. 

You swallow the lump, blink a few times to get rid of the lingering tears in your eyes and go into the bedroom to take off your makeup. You lean on the counter, sniffling silently, and close your eyes. You breathe in through your nose deeply, before breathing out through your mouth. It’ll be okay. Right? 

When you enter the bedroom you stare for a minute at the man sleeping peacefully before you. It feels wrong when you climb into bed next to him, nevertheless, you do it. It’ll probably take you a while to fall asleep tonight. 

– – – – –

The situation hasn’t changed a bit when the racing season starts back up again. No matter how strained your relationship has become, you do want to say goodbye to Lando before he leaves for the next race. So, the morning he’s supposed to fly, you make sure to get up extra early. You don’t know how, but he still somehow manages to finish his breakfast before you’re even out of bed, the container already in the trash.

“Good morning,” you mumble, wiping your eyes as they adjust to the bright light in the kitchen.

Lando looks up from his phone in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you awake this early. “Hey, what are you doing up?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” you say as you walk closer to the kitchen island at which he’s sitting.

“There’s no need for that, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon enough.” The smile on his face is sickeningly sweet, a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.

You frown, “You’re leaving for a week… What do you mean, there’s no need?”

Lando sighs at your question, “Never mind, it’s kind of you to get up extra early just for me,” he smiles dismissively before getting up from his seat. “It’s time for me to go,” he says looking at his watch before grabbing his backpack and suitcase which are sitting by the door, “I’ll see you in a week.”

You’re left staring in surprise as the door slams closed. He didn’t kiss you goodbye. He always did that, even during the worst of fights. That’s your rule. Formula 1 is a dangerous sport, he could be hurt in a split second, never mind being killed. From the start of your relationship, he always kissed you before he left, just in case. You hated the thought at the start, but learned to think it was sweet; that, in case something happened, at least he kissed his girl goodbye.

You’re watching your marriage crumble before your eyes, and Lando doesn’t seem to have a clue, or pretends not to notice. This is it, you decide. This cannot go any further. As soon as he gets home, you will talk to Lando, no matter how badly it will affect his race. You can’t do this any longer.

However, somebody else is already one step ahead of you. Carlos had noticed the toll your strained marriage with Lando was taking on you, and couldn’t help confronting Lando the first second he saw him. It didn’t help either that Charles was way too curious about the relationship drama. He had been pushing Carlos to find out more to save his gossip-desperate soul after the radio silence during the break.

“Hey, Lando!” Carlos yells, jogging up to Lando and matching his pace.

“Hey, man! How are you doing? Had a nice break?” Lando asks, giving Carlos a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I had fun. What about you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. It was good to get some time off. I really needed it; finally got to see my friends again,” Lando grins while Carlos raises an eyebrow at the answer.

“What about your wife? Finally got to spend some time with her now that you didn’t have to travel so much?” Carlos asks.

Lando laughs awkwardly at his suggestive question, “You know it!”

Carlos ignores the casual response. “I actually saw Y/N last week, at a friend’s birthday party. Was surprised to see you didn’t come with her…”

A frown etches onto Lando’s face. “What birthday party?”

“I think she’s one of Y/N’s best friends, she turned 25?”

Lando’s eyes widen in realisation. “Fuck, yes, I remember now.”

“She told you about it?” Carlos asks, watching as Lando’s expression shifts from realisation to discomfort.

“Yeah… She mentioned it a couple of times,” he admits. “She didn’t tell me that she went...” 

Carlos lets him ponder it for a moment before adding, “Well, she was there. We talked for a bit, actually.”

Lando feels his stomach tighten. He tilts his head slightly. “What did she say?”

Carlos hesitates, glancing around the paddock while he weighs his options. “Uhm, she said you’ve been distant lately. That you haven’t been paying much attention to her, that you missed your anniversary…”

Lando stops walking. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah, man.” Carlos sighs. “Look, she didn’t go into too much detail, but… she sounded upset. Maybe you should make some time for her, take her out on a date or something. It seems like she feels pretty lonely.” 

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his heart sinks in his chest. “Lonely?” The word echoes in his mind, unsettling him. He knows the feeling all too well. He’s the reason his wife has been feeling lonely? The guilt settles deep within his soul as he mulls it over. He tries to laugh it off, but it feels hollow. “She knows how demanding the season has been. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure she does, but… it’s more than that. She told me she feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.” The look on his face is serious as he says it.

Lando blinks, the weight of Carlos’ words sinking in. How could he have missed something so crucial? Why hadn’t Y/N said anything? More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed?”

“She thinks I don’t care about her?” He mutters to himself. His gaze is unfocused as he chews his lip, running a hand over his face out of frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He says quietly.

“There was no opportunity to tell you, she said. You're never home.”

Carlos lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t want your marriage to be ruined. I know you love Y/N to pieces. I would be upset with myself if you guys don’t make it out together knowing I could have done something about it. That being said, I think you should talk to her.”

Lando nods absentmindedly. He didn't even consider that they might not make it out okay. “You’re right. Thanks for telling me, man.” 

As Carlos walks away, Lando is left standing there, his mind working overtime. He had been busy, yes, but surely you understood that, right? He’d been working so hard for the both of you, to secure a future for you. But… had he been neglecting you without even realising it?

The conversation with Carlos continues to replay in his head throughout the day. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as he thought. Maybe all those nights out with friends, all those early mornings spent focused on racing had a bigger effect than he assumed. He tries to push the thoughts away, to justify it with the pressure of the season, but it doesn’t sit right anymore.

The rest of the weekend Carlos’ words echo through his head, ‘She feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.’ Lando can barely concentrate with the guilt that’s gnawing at his conscious. 

– – – – – 

By the time Lando leaves his hotel, he has formed a plan. He has rehearsed a dozen different apologies in his head. He’ll explain what happened, that he’s been so busy with work that he didn’t notice, and he’ll say sorry and change his behaviour. And after that, all will be well.

His plan is thrown out the window as soon as he gets home and sees his wife sitting on the couch, your face pale and tired as you watch TV. The state of you makes the practised words dry on his tongue. How could he not have noticed what was happening? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt lonely?” 

You look up in surprise at the abrupt question cutting through the silence. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’, no ‘I missed you, baby’, just the sharp edge of confrontation.

“What?”

“Carlos told me you’ve been feeling lonely. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown at his directness, “When was I supposed to do that, Lando? You’re always gone.”

“That’s not true—” he tries to protest, but you cut him off.

“There was not one moment I could have told you, Lando! You’re always busy with work and when you’re not, your friends take up all your free time! You haven’t made any time for me in weeks, months even!” You yell.

Tears well up in your eyes at the confrontation. You had kept your frustrations to yourself for weeks and now that he finds out about your feelings he decides to yell at you for it. How else are you expected to react?

Your words hit Lando hard, each one landing like a punch. His eyes flicker with guilt. “I’ve been under so much pressure. The team needs me—this season could be my best chance at a championship, and I—”

You cut him off, your voice soft. “I know, Lando. I know how important your career is and that this is your chance, but that doesn’t mean all your time should be spent on racing. You’ve no time left for me anymore; all your energy is drained when I finally see you at the end of the day.”

“I can’t help that my job is demanding! You know that, Y/N. You’ve always known that. It takes a lot of time to improve, and the team is finally performing. It’s my chance at a championship! I can’t pass that up!”

“I get that Lando, I really do. But I’ve felt alone in this relationship for months now. I never see you, we never talk… The night of the party you didn’t even text me to ask where I was, or who I was with. You were already sleeping before I got home! Weren’t you worried at all? Or even curious to know where I was, whether I was safe? Sometimes… Sometimes, I doubt whether you still care about me – whether you still love me, because it feels like you don’t.” The tears slowly fall down your face while you say it.

That’s when it hits him – truly hits him. Lando swears he could hear his heart break. He looks at you in shock, and you can’t deny you feel a little better because of it. Had he really fucked up that bad? Do you really believe he no longer loves you, or cares about you? You are the most important person in his life. How could this have gone so far without him noticing? How could he have made the love of his life feel like she wasn’t loved? He runs a hand through his hair in distress, trying to wrap his head around your admission.

“I’ve been patient, Lando. I’ve been understanding, but you’re just never present. Not just physically, but mentally, too. I miss you.”

Lando looks at you sadly from across the room, disappointed in himself. He quickly closes the distance, reaching for your hand. His voice is soft when he speaks to you. “I do. I do love you, Y/N,” he says, caressing your face softly, pulling your chin up so your eyes meet, his teary eyes staring into your red ones. “You’re the love of my life. I care about you so much. You’re the most important to me, above anything else, and you always will be. Don’t forget that, okay? Promise me you’ll never forget that, baby.”

You sniffle, wiping away the tears that are slowly making their way down to your chin, while you nod. The sound physically pains him, his heart twisting torturously in his chest. He vows to never make you cry again.

“I’m so sorry I let it come this far, darling. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, trying to win, trying to be perfect for the team that I didn’t see what I was losing in the process.” 

You interrupt him, “I don’t need perfect, Lando. I just need you to be here. With me. Because if it keeps going like this… I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Her words hang between them, and for the first time in weeks, Lando realises the gravity of what he stands to lose if he doesn’t make a change soon. He nods frantically. “Of course, baby. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You say the word, and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t love you, because I do. So much. I can’t lose you, I don’t ever want to come this close to losing you ever again.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go; like you’ll walk away from him as soon as he does. You press your face into his chest, missing the feeling of him against you and his comforting scent. The last time he touched you, let alone hugged you feels like ages ago. 

“I’ll be better, I’ll make time for you, I promise,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing over your hair, as he tugs you impossibly closer into his tight embrace.

You smile faintly through your tears. “I believe you.”

[blackenedsnow]

Hi I'm back with another Movie!juice request! This time it kinda ties back to the friends with benefits one; this time with an alternate way of Beetlejuice confessing!

So one day Beetlejuice gets drunk and the reader stays sober to watch over him so he doesn't cause too much chaos. He gets touchy, no surprise there, but then...his touches get more tender and he starts absentmindedly rambling on about how much he loves the reader and how he wants to marry them someday, not because of the freedom it'll give him but just being their husband in general...

Then he passes out

The next morning he doesn't remember what he confessed and the reader, hiding how giddy they are, is like "so, BJ, got something you wanna tell me~?" And he ends up confessing to them that everything he said last night was true :3

drunken truths

WARNING: Alcohol use

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Reader

NOTE: Hihi! Please keep sending your creative energy my way; it always brightens my day. Sending you lots of love and ghostly vibes! <3

SUMMARY: A drunken Beetlejuice lets slip just how deeply he cares about you, leaving you giddy and mischievous the next morning as you nudge him toward confessing his feelings for real.

It started with a bad idea, like most things involving Beetlejuice. He’d stumbled into your space that night with a bottle of some spectral concoction, claiming he was “celebrating.” What? He never clarified. Maybe it was the moon being full, maybe it was a successful day. Who knew? Either way, by the second drink, his tongue was already looser than usual.

And because you knew him—and liked him, despite yourself—you stayed sober. Someone had to keep him from blowing up the furniture or trying to serenade the neighborhood cats again.

“Y’know somethin’?” Beetlejuice slurred, draping himself over your shoulder with the subtlety of a hurricane. His usual grabby hands were there, but the way his fingers grazed your arm felt…different. Gentle, almost reverent.

“What’s that, Beej?” you asked, half-amused, half-bracing for whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth.

“You’re perfect. Like—chef’s kiss—perfect.” He made the gesture, loudly smacking his lips. “Don’t know why you hang out with a guy like me, though.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. This wasn’t the usual Beetlejuice bravado. He sounded…earnest.

“Maybe I just like you,” you teased, testing the waters.

His laugh was low and warm, and it made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Yeah, well, you’re too good for me. But that don’t matter, ’cause one day, I’m gonna make you mine. Like, for real. Not ’cause of the whole marriage loophole thing—though that’s a helluva bonus, heh—but ’cause you’re…I dunno…you’re it for me.”

You froze. Beetlejuice, the king of chaos and crude jokes, just…said that?

“And, oh!” He sat up abruptly, gesturing wildly. “We’ll have one of those nice-ass weddings, right? With the cake, and the dancing, and…yeah, I’ll be the best damn husband ever. Better’n any of those losers out there. You’ll see.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Beetlejuice flopped over, snoring loudly against your shoulder.

“BJ?” you whispered, but he was out cold.

The next morning, he was surprisingly subdued—hungover but still Beetlejuice. He shuffled into the kitchen, scratching his messy hair and grumbling about how “some jerk left the lights on too bright.”

You smirked over your coffee, barely able to contain your excitement. “Morning, BJ. Sleep well?”

He squinted at you suspiciously. “Why’re you so chipper? You’re usually grumpy in the morning.”

“Oh, no reason.” You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “So…got something you wanna tell me?”

Beetlejuice froze, his greenish skin turning an even paler shade. “Uh…like what?”

“Like, I dunno…what you were rambling about last night? Something about marriage?”

His eyes went wide, then narrowed as he tried to piece things together. Finally, he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Oh, great. I blew it, didn’t I?”

You tilted your head innocently. “Blew what?”

He slumped into the chair across from you, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. “The whole…thing. You know. The you thing. Dammit, I didn’t wanna say it like that. But, yeah. Whatever I said last night? It’s true. All of it. And I get it if you think I’m nuts or if you don’t—”

You reached across the table, grabbing his hand before he could spiral. “Beetlejuice.”

“What?”

“I think you’re nuts. But I also think you’re kind of sweet. And maybe, just maybe, I like the idea of you being my husband someday.”

For once in his afterlife, Beetlejuice was speechless.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Blake Quotes

BLAKEY POOOOO ♡ sassy man

“You’re the brightest spot in my life. You always have been, even when you’re so far away I can barely see the glow.”

“Charming friend you got there. [he’s shaking in his boots]”

“That’s a one-way ticket to ending up in a spiral!”

“Whatever you need of me. I’ll give it, provided you save my love.”

“Questions aren’t really necessary right now, so how about you just sit there and look pretty, hmm?”

“Do you want me to show you exactly what magic can do when it’s not on your side?”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what I want too. [goofy goofy chuckle]”

“You make me smile, you make me happy. I like being with you. That’s enough.”

“I can’t always keep my head above the water, but being with you is like… having an air tank. I might be below the surface, but I’m still getting oxygen. You’re that oxygen that keeps me going when I’m under."

“I told you, it was nothing... All right, let me clarify, it’s not “nothing”, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Your little fuckbuddy-"

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. It felt like… someone switching on the lights, and suddenly realizing that I’d been standing in the dark all that time before. It felt like life was suddenly in colour.”

“it felt like I got a taste of everything I’d ever wanted, the most amazing feeling I’d ever experienced and then the next morning, I didn’t just lose the chance at that, I lost my best friend.”

“I’m tired of the dance. I just miss my friend.”

“I can’t be another mistake. Because it’ll break me.”

“You know me, you know how I am.”

“If we’re together, I’ll do everything for you, and I’ll give you everything I can, I’ll give you time and patience, if you need to be with your own thoughts, I’ll give you quiet, but I won’t be able to give you space.”

“The things I think about you, how much I want you… it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud. The stuff you’re never supposed to admit to feeling.”

“Just sitting at the table one morning, having breakfast when you realized, Oh wait, who's that voice in my head? Must be an ancient, unknowable force in Death. Guess I'll go back to my oatmeal.”

“What are you doing?”

“You would dirty their fucking name by speaking it.”

“if you pick this, it’ll be all of me. All of it. And we both know a lot of that’s not pretty.”

“I’ll get that smile on those pretty lips in the morning, just you wait.”

“I’m not worried you’ll try something. You don’t constitute a meaningful threat in my book. Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“I’m not that fucking stupid. [He is]”

“Congratulations, someone please get the gentleman a door prize.”

“You can’t matter.”

“You're going to learn when to shut the fuck up. And spoiler alert, tied up, on the ground, with your powers inhibited? That's one of those times.”

“Wouldn’t that be cute?”

“I sleep easy in the arms of the person I love. Knowing that everything I’ve done, everything I do, I do for them.”

“I never stopped loving you, I’m still back there, I’m still just this scared kid telling you he fucking loves you.”

“Cute. Are you going to keep wasting time with passive aggression or do you actually have something to tell me?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Yeah, all for you. All of it. [ft D’Deridahn calling him horny in the background]”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Us and The Helpers

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!nanny!reader (implied to be plus-size, not explicitly stated)

Summary: You and the girls you nanny drop by SWAT HQ to visit your boyfriend, Jim Street.

Warnings: fluff!

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

“You’re staring again,” Street says without looking away from the paper before him.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Yet you’re not stopping.”

“You asked to be my boyfriend, you made it my duty to admire you.”

Street’s eyes finally meet yours as he asks, “Just to admire? Because we could also, like, have a conversation, kiss, whatever you want to do.”

“If I stop staring you might disappear.”

“I know I’m the best boyfriend ever, but I won’t disappear. I love you.”

You and Street both know that on paper, to outsiders, you’re not the most obvious couple ever. And, on occasion, you find yourself in a continued state of shock that he wants anything to do with you. Street takes these moments in stride and uses them to remind you that he loves you and wants to be around you as much as possible.

“I love you too,” you respond. “But I have to be to work early in the morning. The girls and I have an exciting week of learning about different animal habitats planned while their parents are out of town for work.”

Street pouts at the mention of your girls, the three-year-old and one-year-old sisters you nanny. They cling to you, cuddle with you, and love you unconditionally, and Street has made it very clear that he is jealous of all the time and attention they get from you.

“You’ll be gone all week?” Street asks.

“You won’t even notice,” you argue.

“When I die from a lack of attention, my team will blame you.”

“Calm down,” you request with a chuckle.

“I can already feel myself forgetting what you feel like.”

Street falls toward you as he laments, and as you lie side-by-side, you see a glimpse of a life where you take your own children to the zoo and the aquarium. What surprises you is the mental image of Street there with you. You trust that he does love you, and you love him, but this daydream of an entire life with him awakens something in you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

“I love you too,” Street promises. He mumbles, “Traitor,” against your arm, and you don’t correct him.

When you leave the wildlife show, the girls at your sides cling to you. As you carry them both to the car rather than risk losing them in the crowd, you see that you have time left before lunch but no more animal habitats you could show them… except for maybe one. After the girls are secure in their car seats, you sit in the driver’s seat, lock the door, and text Street. He calls a moment later and immediately begins speaking.

“If you don’t come to see me, I will be so angry that I’ll withhold cuddles,” he says in place of a greeting. “Or I’ll try to.”

“So, we can stop by?” you clarify.

“No, you have to.”

“Yes, sir. Let me ask these lovely ladies behind me if they want to visit the police station.”

Loud squeals answer your proposal, and Street chuckles on the other end of the lines.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” you say.

“See you then.”

As promised, you arrive at the station a few minutes later and lead the girls inside. Once you have visitor passes, you walk through the hallways to reach SWAT HQ. Inside the correct area, you stop and feel two sets of arms wrap around you. You’re used to them clinging to you, and you place a hand on each of their backs. The younger sister raises her arms, and you pull her up onto your hip.

“There she is!” Street yells as he approaches.

He runs toward you and holds his arms at odd angles to wrap you and the girls beside you in a hug. They laugh at his attention and excitement, and you smile as well.

“My favorite helpers!” Luca calls when he sees Street’s special visitors.

Every time you walk into HQ, they stop being your girls and become 20 Squad’s helpers, special guests, and any other nickname that makes them feel older and important.

“Does that include me?” you tease as Luca hugs you.

“You know it does. But I think we need to different helpers. One to watch Street-“

“Hey!” Street interjects.

Luca ignores him to finish, “And two to help me color a picture of what our new SWAT uniforms should look like.”

“We can help! We can help!” the three-year-old standing beside you cheers.

“Fantastic!” Luca exclaims. “Let’s go, then!”

Street wraps his arms over your shoulders as Luca leads his favorite helpers to find crayons. 

“How are you?” Street asks.

“I’m great. They learned a lot at the wildlife show. How are you? Busy day?”

“Not too busy, so I can’t complain.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Deacon jokes as he passes. He taps your arm kindly and invites you to bring the girls over to see Lila before he rushes away.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, and you know it’s time to get the girls home and make them lunch. You apologize to Street as you tell him you have to go, and he groans dramatically.

After several minutes, you locate the children in your care and get them back into the car with half-finished coloring sheets and happy smiles.

“Officer Street is nice,” the younger girl says.

“He smiles when he sees you like when Dad sees Mom,” her sister adds.

“That’s right,” you agree. “Because, like your mom and dad, we care about each other.”

“Do you love him?”

You smile in the rearview mirror as you answer, “I do.”

On Friday night, you let yourself into Street’s place after work. You’re tired from an exhausting yet rewarding week but want to see Street again. When he arrives and enters the living room, he drops his bag and runs to hug you against the couch.

“Thank you,” he breathes out.

“For?”

“You were supposed to be at work still. Would you believe me if I said this moment made my entire day?”

You smile up at him as he stands over you to answer, “I would, because you make mine all the time.”

“I need to kiss you now,” Street declares. “Are you ready?”

“No, wait.” You shift into a more comfortable position and answer, “Now I am.”

Street grabs your waist, and all you can think of and feel is him and the love between you. The image from earlier returns with Street’s affection, and you hope it’s something in your future, and not a simple, futile daydream.

“Seeing you with the kids today, and them hanging all over you and cuddling you, made me realize something,” Street says in the quiet space between you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. I want this, all of it. But I don’t know if I can do that yet.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone. It’s you and me, right?”

“And the best helpers in the world. I mean, we’re getting octopus uniforms because of them.”

“Street,” you request quietly. “I want it too, all of it. For now, though, do you think you could keep kissing me?”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

[whiskersz]

Hi again, saw your requests are open again, so can I request Vox x female reader? As for the plot: The Reader and Vox got together during the 7 years that Alastor was absent, so reader never encountered the more manic and obsessed side of her boyfriend when it comes to his enemy. And so, now that Alastor is back Vox started acting a bit differently and reader is worried about him and his mental health. So she confronts him about it. (Just to clarify, I want this to be fluff or sort of hurt-comfort and you can either do one-shots or ficlet, I'm up for whatever) ~Ghost/👻 (you're never getting rid of me now >:3)

First of all, hi Ghost! My PC won't let me visualize your rq so I had to do this...anyways, this I admit was hard to write which is a shame because I loved this idea? So much? I feel like Vox isn't Voxing and the hurt-comfort is there only if you squint...I'll do better next time ;'3

Vox x Fem! Reader

Warning for : mentions of stalking

The digital clock indicated that it was already late at night, three in the morning precisely.

You hadn’t been awakened by something, no, in fact you had never fallen asleep in the first place. Troubled by thoughts of your own boyfriend, you laid in the king size bed of your shared bedroom, anxiously scrolling on your phone in desperate search of yet another distraction from the fact that this had been yet another day consisting of getting ignored by him.

And yet there you were, waiting for him to join you in bed, worried because he had always been a near perfect example of a partner, at least in your viewpoint, but now all he was able to concentrate on was that... Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Just thinking about that name brought back anxiety into your chest.

Knowing very well that the feeling of tightness and shortness of breath wouldn’t have subsided anytime soon if you decided to stay in bed for who knows how many more hours, you stood up, the sudden change in temperature making you wrap your arms around your own figure.

The red moon shone a path to the elevator with its light, almost as if it was telling you to go for it and confront him.

And so you did; taking the elevator to the room you had guessed he was in, you impatiently waited for the doors to open in front of you.

When they did, you were almost blinded by the light emitting from the disproportionate number of screens present in Vox’s office.

He was sitting there, mumbling to himself, checking cameras placed on the various streets leading to the Hazbin Hotel. You shuddered; he was most likely too caught up in what could’ve been considered the stalking of his enemy that he didn’t hear you enter the room.

���Vox...”

You called his name, but he didn’t respond.

“Vox.”

You tried again, this time more resolute, and he turned around, startled; all the screens turned off in unison except for the one that served as his head, which became the only source of light in the entire office.

Vox hadn’t even bothered to change into his nightwear, you noticed; he was still wearing his suit, he had just removed the blazer and placed it on the backrest of his office chair.

“Ah, darling. Whatever are you doing up this late...?” he asked, recomposing himself.

You simply stared at him with concern written all over your face, an expression of pure worry. Careful not to trip on anything, you slowly made your way towards him, your arms still crossed as if to comfort yourself.

“I should be the one asking that question, it’s three and you’re still here checking for traces of Alastor on every camera of the city. Come to bed.” You ranted quietly, seeing what time it was, even though you were almost sure the other Vee’s couldn’t here you from where you were.

Vox sighed, placing a hand on his forehead. Being reminded of the time and of what he was doing most likely made him realize how exhausted he was.

“Yes, yes...I’ll come to bed, just...” he trailed off, not sure what to say himself.

You caught the opportunity to continue your rant, but not before grabbing his blazer and carefully folding it to then place it on his desk. His eyes followed your figure the entire time.

“I’m worried about you, you do nothing but obsess over him these days, and you end up not taking care of yourself and others around you enough, you know?” you said, obviously referring to yourself in your last statement.

You hadn’t gone on a date with Vox in a while, hadn’t taken the time to relish in each other’s presence in what felt like months – and it had probably been that long.

“If only you could understand.” he whispered, visibly irritated by your words, which was something you had barely witnessed during these years of relationship.

“I’ll let you explain, so I’ll be able to. Just, for now, let’s go to bed? I’m worried about your health.”

Another sigh from Vox; you extended your hand, which he grabbed. The closer he got to you the brighter his screen seemed; you couldn’t wait for it to be turned off, you could feel a headache coming on.

The only thing you knew about Vox and Alastor’s history was that they never agreed on matters concerning technology, and that Alastor had disappeared for seven years. This didn’t really explain why your boyfriend was so obsessed with the Radio Demon though, it made no sense to you; there had to be another reason why he was so consumed by their rivalry.

A reason he clearly wasn’t going to share in that moment, as once you arrived in your bedroom he practically threw himself on the bed. You followed suit, covering both your figures with the blanket you had discarded previously.

“Promise you’ll explain soon.” You said, staring up at him.

Vox didn’t want to lose you at all, he realized when he looked into your eyes right then and there. You were putting up with the ugliest side of his personality, for which he had to feel honoured. He cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

“I’ll do my best. For you.”

His hand moved from your cheek to your waist, pulling you closer. This was more like the Vox that you knew. With a promise that you’d get an explanation the following day, you finally let yourself fall asleep against his chest.

[prettyyoungandbored]

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning - Charlie Dalton

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x Fem!Reader

Sequel to The Night Before

WARNINGS: Very brief nudity. Read at your own risk.

Author’s Note: I probably should have clarified this in the story before but Charlie and the reader are in their 20s.

NOT MY GIF

There was something peaceful about the early morning hours. There was a blue haze in the sky. Night was leaving, and the sun was beginning to brace for its shift in the sky.

While New York was the city that never slept, Y/N and Charlie’s brownstone was in a fairly quiet neighborhood, fairly being the key word. But for this particular morning, everything felt still.

Y/N couldn’t believe it. She wondered if she woke up from her dream and into another one. Maybe the city knew she needed some quiet before the craziness that came before a wedding.

Either way, she was grateful.

She lay in the bed, her naked body tangled in the thin, white sheets. She turned over to see Charlie lay beside her, deep in sleep.

Her hand carded through his hair as she smiled. She wasn’t sure what she had done in a past life that allowed her be loved by him. There was never a dull moment that passed when she was with him.

Sure, Charlie could be a little shit, but it never crossed the line. He made her laugh until her stomach hurt and made her feel loved and supported.

Charlie’s face scrunched as he stirred awake.

“What’re you doing up?” he yawned.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” she whispered.

He hummed and fell onto his back. His fingers motioned her to him.

She scoot her body toward him until he wrapped an arm around her as her head nestled in between his chest and shoulder.

His finger drew lazy circles on her forearm. “Can’t have my bride yawning at the alter. What would everyone think?”

She chuckled. “Gotta have some drama at the wedding. Keep everyone on their toes.”

“I like the way you think.” He kissed the top of her head. “And here I thought I was going to have to bribe one of the boys to speak up during the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ bit.”

“And which boy were you thinking of?”

“Not Knox because Izzie would kill me. Maybe Meeks.”

She giggled. “That would’ve been hysterical.”

“But alas,” he sighed, “looks like we’ll have to go through a boring ceremony.”

“Poor us.”

“A tragedy.”

He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his other arm around her. “But I’d go through worse if it meant I’d get to be with you forever.”

She pouted, her heart exploding. “Oh Charlie, you already did. You had to ask my dad for my hand in marriage.”

He snickered at the memory. “That took a week of planning and practicing.”

“Knox told me you even practiced on him.”

He grimaced. Knox had it easy because he knew how to charm parents. “Don’t remind me.”

She looked up at him. “It was worth it though.”

He smiled adoringly. “Without question.”

Just as their lips went to meet, the phone rang in the kitchen. Charlie let go of Y/N and padded toward the kitchen.

“Hello….Knox, what’re you…ok…ok…ok, I’ll let her know.”

Y/N sat up in bed, pulling the sheets close to her chest. Charlie returned and crawled back under the covers.

“So apparently your mother was about to come over and get you but Izzie and Knox heard her and Izzie offered to come get you. She’s on her way now.”

Y/N laid back, groaning. Charlie smiled, rubbing her bare leg with his hand.

“I’m not ready to leave,” she sighed. “Can’t I stay here with you a little longer?”

“As much as I would love that, unfortunately we have to keep up appearances one last time. After that, we can do whatever we like.”

The thought of having more mornings like this completely uninterrupted would make it worth it.

“Did you tell Izzie you were coming here last night?” he asked.

She nodded. “She was gonna tell my mom I was sick.”

Charlie hummed. “And what illness were we going to go with?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I figured you could come up with something for me. You must’ve had experience.”

“Loads. C’mon, we’ll figure it out while we get you dressed.”

====================================

A half an hour later…

“Thanks for covering for me,” Y/N said, turning her head to Izzie as the two women sat in the back of the cab.

“You got it. Your mother was on a war path so I figured it was best to stop her before she walked in on you and Charlie.” Izzie turned her head to Y/N. “Also what illness are we going with?”

“Period.”

“That works. That should keep her quiet for awhile.”

Silence fell between the two women. Then Izzie spoke up.

“You won’t hear the end of it.”

“Not at all.”

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Getting High)

Summary: Y/N's never tried weed before, and has an interesting night trying it for the first time with the three people she loves and trusts the most.

AN: This is a story about people getting high, written by someone who's never been high. I did a fair amount of research, so I hope it's accurate enough to what people experience lol

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Fan Reactions

Holiday Blues

Mitchryy Reunion

Word Count: 2.8K

CW: Mentions of smut & daddy kink; drug use

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a perfect Friday morning. You’re sitting at the kitchen table of your LA home with Sarah, Mitch, and Harry. Sarah had surprised you all with a full English breakfast “just because” and you’re enjoying every delicious bite.

It’s so good that everyone is practically silent, no one wants to take a break from eating to say anything. You’re the first to get full so you decide to start up some conversation. There’s something you’ve been wanting to ask them but have been too shy to actually voice your question.

Deciding to finally go for it, you break the silence saying, “What’s it like to get high?”

Simultaneously, all three of them stop mid chew to stare at you, completely caught off guard by your question.

Harry composes himself first and after finishing his bite of food he says, “Well it depends on what drug you’ve taken.” You’re grateful for the way he responded, showing that they’ll take the conversation seriously and not as a joke.

It’s no secret that he and Mitch have done a couple different drugs in the past. It’s common knowledge that “She” was written by Mitch while he was under the influence of psychedelic drugs. And everyone’s heard the story of Harry biting off part of his tongue while high on mushrooms.

Harry has also mentioned having done coke once or twice, and that admittedly makes you a little nervous. You went through the DARE program growing up where you’d been taught that all drugs will ruin your life and kill you. So while you never judge others for occasionally getting a little high, it does make you somewhat nervous that something bad could happen when they do.

You voice your concerns to them, and they talk you through what drugs they’ve tried, what it was like, and how they ensure their safety while under the influence. By the end you’re feeling better about everything.

But you notice one thing they left out.

“And what about weed?” You ask.

“What about it?” Mitch asks.

“What are you guys like when you smoke it? Eat it? Whatever you all do with pot,” you clarify.

“The boys prefer to smoke,” Sarah answers, “And I don’t like smoking, so I’ll have some edibles if I want to participate.”

“We all get pretty mellow,” Mitch says to answer your question.

“You can be more mellow?” You inquire jokingly, referring to his generally calm demeanor.

“He just sits there all smiley,” Harry says.

Sarah laughs and adds, “Yea, until he starts getting extra horny.”

You blush thinking about what that must be like and then ask, “What about you two? What are you guys like?”

“Sarah gets very giggly. And chatty,” Mitch answers. “And Harry gets the munchies.”

“Seriously?” You ask. Harry, the person in this relationship who is most regimented about what he eats and rarely ever snacks, gets the munchies?

“Oh, for sure,” Harry answers. “All bets are off when I’m high. Calories don’t count,” he finishes with a shrug.

“I wonder what I’d be like,” you say quietly.

“Y/N, do you want to try it? We’d all be with you, make sure nothing happens,” Sarah says.

You sit silently for a moment, debating what to say. This was another goal of yours for this conversation. You want to try getting high, especially with the three of them, who you trust more than anyone. You had been offered weed at a couple parties before, and always turned it down, nervous that something could go wrong. But here? With Sarah, and Mitch, and Harry? Well, that sounds like it could actually be fun.

You nod and say, “Yea, I kind of do want to try.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “We can make that happen.”

After that, the conversation turns to other topics as you finish eating and cleaning up breakfast. Harry spends a good chunk of the day writing. Mitch helps him but heads to the grocery store in the afternoon. Meanwhile, you and Sarah work in the garden, getting it ready to put in some new plants.

Happy with your progress for the day, you head inside to take a shower. When you’re done and dressed you walk down to the living room where Sarah, also freshly showered, and Harry and sitting together on the couch. You join them, sitting beside Harry. He talks a bit about what he worked on so far and then you finally hear the door opening, alerting you all that Mitch has returned from the store.

All three of you join him in the kitchen, helping to put the groceries away. You get to one bag that looks different from the others, like it came from a different store, but it still just seems to contain some different snacks, namely chocolates and some gummy candies. You get a closer look and notice the little leaf symbol on all of the packages.

“Uhm, Mitch? What is this?” You know what it is, or at least, you’re mostly sure, but it feels like a good idea to actually confirm.

He looks over to see what you’re holding and smirks before saying, “Well that would be weed. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to grab some after our talk this morning.”

“Can we try it?”

“Sure,” he replies.

“Tonight?” You ask.

“Are you sure?” Sarah confirms.

“I mean, it seems like a good time. We have a free weekend, which never happens. And I don’t want to overthink it more than I already have.”

“Ok,” Harry responds. “After dinner if you still want to then these will be our dessert,” he says, taking the bag of goodies from you and putting it in a cabinet, far away from the rest of the snacks.

“Sorry it’s only edibles,” Mitch says to Harry. “Sarah doesn’t smoke, and I didn’t think Y/N would either. And you don’t like smoking alone so, yea.”

“Are you not joining us?” Sarah asks.

“Not this time, I want to stay sober just in case.”

“Look at you, going into daddy mode,” Harry jokes.

There’s a flicker in Mitch’s eyes at that, something you’ve never seen before. “Haven’t heard that nickname in a long time,” Mitch says.

“You haven’t earned it,” Harry replies, tone definitely cheeky, and a little suggestive. You tuck the encounter away in your mind, making a note to ask them about whatever that just was at another time.

Now that everything seems to be decided, you turn to start making dinner. With the prospect of a new experience on the horizon you need to do something that’s familiar to you. Sarah helps you cook, and the boys clean up after.

Once everyone is in comfy clothes you meet up back in the living room. Mitch is holding the chocolate bar and gives you a look before asking, “Still want to try this?”

“I do,” you reply. You’re excited, even if you’re slightly nervous about how you might act or if you might say something stupid while under the influence.

“Alright,” he replies.

Mitch opens the package, breaking off three pieces and handing one to each of you. He then passes the rest to Harry, saying, “You might want one more in a bit. It’s a pretty low dose.”

You pop the chocolate in your mouth, a thrill going through you at doing something you’ve always been told was dangerous. It’s silly to feel this way, knowing now that the likelihood of this having any type of negative outcome is extremely slim, but it still feels almost reckless in an exciting way.

Nothing happens for a bit, but you expected that. Harry ends up taking one more piece, and you wonder if you should as well. Before you can even ask, Mitch says, “No more for you, give it time.”

Sarah adds, “It’ll kick in soon, trust me.”

And she isn’t wrong. You don’t notice it happening, but eventually you feel different. Your body feels kind of tingly, and you’re smiling but you don’t really know why.

The next thing you know, you and Sarah are discussing the garden at length. The area you have set aside is totally not big enough. You need way more space so you can grow veggies and berries and like, three orange trees so you can make your own orange juice every morning. Harry gets up no less than five times to retrieve snacks from the kitchen and you discover you’re actually starving, which is weird because wasn’t dinner an hour ago? You’re never hungry so soon after a meal.

Some more time apparently passes, and you and Sarah are now laughing at a story Harry’s telling about his craziest fan encounter.

Suddenly you remember a comment from earlier and turn to Mitch. He’s sitting next to you on the couch, completely entertained by the antics of the three of you and doesn’t miss when your attention focuses on him.

When you don’t say anything for over a minute he gives you a confused look and says, “Can I help you?”

“Why did Harry call you daddy earlier?” You ask.

At this question both Mitch and Harry blush. BLUSH. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that before.

Mitch looks at your doe eyed, innocent expression and thinks for a minute how he’s going to explain this to you. He sometimes forgets that all your sexual experience has been with him, and there’s a lot you’re unfamiliar with. Sure, the fact that you have sex with three people at once might seem adventurous, but the sex you all have tends to be mostly very vanilla. Mitch watches your inquisitive expression as he figures out the best way to explain daddy kinks and dom/sub dynamics to you.

He decides to start by asking you, “Have you heard of daddy kinks before?”

Your eyes go wide as you realize that this is going down a sexual route. Sarah starts giggling next to you at your reaction and you pout before saying, “Don’t laugh at me, you know I was sheltered!”

“I don’t mean to, you’re just so adorable when you're all shocked and naive,” she replies.

Sarah then shifts on the couch so she’s laying sideways, her back against the armrest. She pulls you to her, so your back is against her chest. Mitch slides closer and Harry takes the seat next to him. You and Sarah both stretch out your legs over Mitch’s lap until your feet rest on Harry. You feel all warm inside, getting to be in contact with all three of them.

“Sorry for laughing,” Sarah says quietly in your ear. “You know how much we love teaching you new things.” You shutter involuntarily at her suggestive tone. She wraps her arms around your middle as Mitch says, “You never answered my question.”

“There was a question?” You say and start giggling. You search your fuzzy brain, trying to remember what he asked you, then trying to remember what you guys were even talking about.

“I asked you if you knew what a Daddy kink is,” he says, watching you closely in case you had another entertaining reaction.

This time your face goes serious, and Mitch can literally see the wheels turning in your mind as you come up with an answer.

After a literal minute of thinking you reply with a decisive, “No.”

“Okay. So, a common misconception is that someone with a daddy kink has daddy issues. And that could be the case for some people but that’s not really what it is. It’s about power dynamics. Like one person gives over control to the other person. And the one with control would be considered daddy.”

“Mitch, that was a fucking terrible explanation,” Harry says. “Y/N, did that make sense to you?”

“Not really, no.”

Sarah decides to take over and says, “Do you remember the night after one of the Wembley shows when we teased you on the ride home?” You immediately remember what she’s talking about and a shutter of pleasure runs through your body at the memory. “And when we got back to the room we edged you even more and wouldn’t let you come? And then made you come multiple times until you passed out?”

“Holy shit,” Harry says. “Why have I never asked about things you did before I joined? Fuck, that sounds hot.”

You blush at the memory and Sarah continues, saying, “That night, Mitch and I had the power. We were in control of your pleasure. You trusted us to take care of you. That’s what a dom/sub dynamic is about. And there’s different titles that doms go by, like sir and ma’am or daddy and mommy. Depends on personal preference.”

“And Mitch prefers daddy?” You ask. He huffs out a laugh and looks visibly flustered at this question, so you say, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Oh, he for sure prefers daddy,” Harry adds. “The first time I let it slip out, he came instantaneously.” Your body starts to heat up and you squirm in Sarah’s lap as Harry continues, “I’d asked him to restrain me and just take what he wanted. He went full daddy mode and didn’t even realize. One of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.”

You can’t sit still any longer, so you move, your limbs uncoordinated due to the drugs and lust clouding your mind, but you finally succeed in straddling Mitch’s lap.

“I wanna do that,” you say.

“Do what exactly?” Mitch presses.

“I dunno. Everything. Anything you guys want to do. I want to give up control,” you answer.

“Darling, I don’t think you’ve ever been in control in bed,” Sarah says with another giggle.

“Okay but like, I wanna do it legit. Please, daddy?” You say with puppy dog eyes looking right at Mitch.

He groans, and you think you’re getting your way, so you move to kiss him and grind down in his lap. His hands grip your waist and frustratingly, they stop your movements.

“Look at me, baby,” he says, and your eyes dart back to meet his. “We can try it, but not now.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because you’re high and can’t fully consent. We all have to be sober to do this the right way. And there’s a lot we need to talk about first. We need to discuss limits, safe words, things like that. Okay?”

“Fine. But I won’t forget this.”

“Trust me babe, neither will I,” he replies, nipping at your ear and you give him a dirty look for teasing you.

“Now, why don’t we watch a movie?” Mitch suggests.

“Emperor's New Groove!” You immediately shout.

“What’s that one about?” Harry asks.

“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” He shakes his head no and you look at the other two who confirm they’d never watched it either.

“NONE of you have seen Emperor's New Groove? That’s a fucking travesty.” They all burst into laughter since you never curse but this seems to be high enough stakes to earn the explicit word.

“We are watching it. Right now.” You jump off the couch, stumbling across the room to grab the remote. You plop back into Sarah’s lap, legs outstretched over the boys, and concentrate on putting the movie on.

Before you press play you say, “I have one very important question.”

“And what would that be, love?” Harry asks.

“Are there more snacks?”

Without a word he gets up and makes a trip to the kitchen, bringing back an assortment of treats.

You grab some of the chocolates and start the movie.

You’re all a giggling mess watching the movie, and you’re starting to get very sleepy by the time it’s over. Mitch has his work cut out for him, rounding the three of you up and helping you all get ready for bed. You cooperate with brushing your teeth and washing your face, but refuse to put pants on, arguing that it’s too warm and all you want is one of Harry’s t-shirts. You also refuse to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom, and Mitch steps in before Sarah can try picking you up while she’s still unsteady herself.

You’re basically dead weight in Mitch’s arms, and you laugh uncontrollably when he gently throws you onto the mattress. The night ends with all four of you together in bed, exchanging “I love you” back and forth repeatedly.

You fall asleep on top of Mitch, and he thinks back to how the evening went. He can’t help but smile at the fact that high Y/N is basically a combination of the other three when high. You laugh and talk uncontrollably like Sarah, snack like Harry, and get a bit more horny than usual like Mitch.

And he certainly won’t forget the conversation you’d had any time soon. He hopes the rest of you won’t either. As he strokes your hair and looks fondly at Sarah and Harry sleeping at his sides, he feels like today was a perfect day. And he can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! Requests are open so if you want to see anything specific, let me know!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

[rosemaze-reveries]

alice deross x you on an espionage mission, you and alice share a rare moment of quiet

You’ve been finding Alice lost in thought more and more lately.

She sits at the kitchen’s windowside table, lips pressed firmly to the rim of her china teacup. It’s not unusual for her to spend her rare moments of leisure nursing on a drink, but her eyes are lost somewhere else, and she’s rigid as a stone. Maybe she’s just that content letting the hot steam caress her lip. You watch her for a few seconds, waiting for the sip you’re sure must come eventually. She doesn’t move.

Sweet white coffee with one lump for good measure. It’s her favorite, but she’s not very fastidious about the brew as long as it’s sweet enough—Alice drinks more sugar than she’d ever care to admit. After months spent working with her, it’s become second nature to prepare it for her every morning. Or every night, like tonight, when you both were to stay up late and keep watch on the townscape below. Another recon mission, as it always goes.

“Too hot?” you ask, taking the seat across from her. She glances up at you to flash a reassuring smile. Her lips are pulled together sweetly, practised, desperate. It’s the smile she uses to push back whatever wretched thoughts are weighing down on her, one you’ve only been able to parse in recent weeks. You pray she doesn’t realize you’ve noticed—she’s much quicker at picking up on the subtle things than you are.

“Just thinking,” she corrects, then finally takes a sip to indulge you. Her smile fades as she turns to the window. “I didn’t expect to grow so fond of this place.”

You follow her line of sight. In the distance, you watch the orange sun sink behind the city’s rooftops as pinks and violets spear through the clouds. Nights here have always felt so tender. They never carry more than a gentle breeze with them, bringing out the songs of the crickets and junebugs that live in the brush outside. It’s so, so quiet. Sometimes you feel like it’s just you and Alice in the world, like you’ve left your pasts behind.

But you know better than that.

“We shouldn’t get too attached, Eury,” you tell her. Her brows crinkle at the name. A flicker of guilt takes hold of your heart. That was cruel of you, and you know it. But that peaceful lifestyle you’re both dreaming of doesn’t exist in either of your futures, at least as you are now. It’d be crueler to pretend like it does. Alice turns back to the window.

“I know.”

The room falls into silence after that. At one point you steal another glance at her. When she catches you, she lapses into that smile again, the one that’s so devastatingly beautiful and guts your heart all the same. Your gaze quickly drops to your lap, where you pinch the hem of the lace tablecloth. That smile will unravel you if you stare at her a minute longer.

With a musing hum, Alice sets down her teacup. “You’ll miss these nights just as much as I will,” she remarks, and you can’t argue. “You don’t have to play tough in front of me. We can enjoy it, just for a little while.”

That’s all the permission you need before you crumble.

“‘A little while’ won’t be enough,” you say, slumping back in your seat. The legs of your chair scrape back against the hardwood. And before you can stop yourself, “I’ll miss you.”

“Me?”

“Living together,” you clarify, or try to, at least. That still doesn’t do much to explain. You and Alice have been partners for just under a year now, jumping from station to station, wherever the Madame positions you. This mission is just one of many. Eventually, you’ll both re-live this day again, in a new city staying at a new base. But there is something special about the few days you’ve spent in this town, how intimate it’s felt, and you’re afraid to lose it.

Thinking about that, all the rationality you tried to cling to a second ago splinters off. “We should run away.”

Alice is quick to stop you. “Oh, now you’re dreaming.”

“I mean it. I’m tired of running around.”

“I think the late hour is getting to your head.” She rises and rounds the table to stand in front of you, one reckless threat away from subduing you there. “Don’t be rash. You won’t get far before they drag you back.”

“I know,” you sigh, reaching for her hand. “I wouldn’t leave you anyway.”

“Promise me,” she insists. She laces her fingers with yours, squeezing you tight. The prospect of you running off and getting caught might’ve frightened her much more than you intended. Her eyes are boring into you with a conviction you rarely see from her. A bit startled, you bring an apologetic kiss to her knuckle.

“Yes, I promise,” you say, and the words barely leave your lips before Alice tugs you forward.

[loserlesbianlottie]

can you do travnat x reader in the wilderness about how they’re overprotective of reader and she gets hurt or smth so they’re worried sick and take care of her? (you can do a fic, thought, hcs or whatever you prefer)🩷

of course! this idea kinda got away from me so if it’s not to your liking just lmk and i’ll rewrite it :3

Overprotective

travis martinez x reader x natalie scatorcio, fluff and general silliness, fem! (or at least fem! implied) reader, they’re so cutie pie i might die, both trav and nat agree that you’re a princess lol

It had started innocently enough. You had begged Natalie and Travis to take you hunting with them, feeling slightly left out due to their constant excursions and your staying at the cabin, and they agreed. Buzzing with excitement, you did everything right to prepare. You made sure all of your chores were done (and some of Jackie’s, too, because while she was a great soccer captain, that girl was absolutely shit at surviving,) and informed everyone that you would be tagging along the following day. You playfully rolled your eyes when Mari made a snide remark about Travis and Nat finally getting some work done with a third wheel around (it seemed no one had noticed that you three had been involved for quite some time now) and gratefully accepted a pocket knife from Coach Ben to help in any way you could.

Nat fondly rolled her eyes as she waited for you to get fully dressed early in the morning. You smiled gleefully at her as you walked with her over to where Travis waited, preparing their backpacks and supplies.

“You look nice,” Nat observes, “Going somewhere?”

You smile at her cheekily before responding simply, “Got a hot date.”

She snorts, bumping her shoulder against yours. Travis notices the two of you and smiles softly before grabbing his backpack and handing Nat hers. You see that you don’t get one and pout silently. Travis chuckles at your expression.

“We only need so many supplies,” he clarifies, and you nod. You supposed that made sense. The three of you make your way into the forest. “Plus, you’re too much of a princess to carry anything heavy.”

You gasp in offense, slapping Travis’ hand away from where it once resided on your shoulder while he laughs. You look to Nat for help, but she’s laughing too. Traitor.

“And here I was, trying to look cute for you guys…you’re both so mean to me,” you whine, making the two laugh harder.

“Sorry, princess,” Nat rasps, “But hunting isn’t exactly the glamorous date I think you're expecting.” You huff in equal amounts of annoyance and amusement.

Hunting starts well. You find that you’re the perfect scorekeeper for their game of who can catch more, and you’re helping carry a good portion of their animals. It’s nice. It feels good to finally have alone time with your girlfriend and boyfriend, away from the prying eyes of the team who’d likely judge you all. It’s nice. It's so nice that you don't even stop to consider that you should probably sit and rest now and then, considering how badly you twisted your ankle in the crash. You don’t notice until the three of you are well into the woods, and, not wanting to waste precious hunting time, you decide to tough it out.

It becomes a problem when Travis and Nat begin a harmless game of tag. They’re messing with each other, and it’s cute until they spot you. They nod at each other in silent agreement and run to you, making you yelp and turn the other way. You begin running, and while it doesn’t feel the greatest, it’s manageable until you trip and fall over a tree root.

You fall unceremoniously on the ground with a groan and a string of curse words. You expect some concern, but don't expect them both to be on top of you in seconds. Travis is holding your hand, apologizing profusely, while Nat observes you. She looks extremely guilty.

“Guys, I- I’m fine,” you whimper, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Nat presses a kiss to your forehead. “Really, it was just an accident.”

“We should’ve been more careful,” Travis murmurs apologetically, rubbing his thumb over your hand protectively.

Then, before you know it, Nat picks you up bridal style. You sputter in embarrassment, but Nat shushes you with a chaste kiss. Travis moves and picks up the game you were carrying, and while it's a bit much for one person, he doesn’t seem to care. Okay. This was happening.

You all arrive back at the cabin slightly early. Everyone’s surprised to see you back so soon, but they seem content when they realize that Travis and Nat have caught something. Natalie brings you over by Misty, who checks out your leg and scolds you for putting weight on it so soon after it was sprained. You nod along, fully intending to ignore her, but soon find out that isn’t possible. Nat and Travis follow her rules for your ankle’s health.

They ensure you stay sitting, ice your ankle, and move to do almost anything for you. When Van makes a lighthearted joke about you tripping (one that you were about to laugh at), they both snap at her. You blink in surprise and assure them it was only a joke, but they’re both still clearly on edge.

When no one else is in the cabin, either off doing chores or enjoying the warm weather as much as a soccer team crashed in the middle of nowhere can, you pull them back into soft, loving kisses, reassuring them that it wasn’t their fault. They nod, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. They claim they have something important to discuss and leave you alone for a little bit. You pout as you sit in the cabin, fully aware that they’ll likely never take you hunting again.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Love is a Dagger: II

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader/Dagger

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Smuttish/Suggestive (on Loki’s part, Dagger’s not there yet). Depictions of Fighting. More Steve x Reader (in the form of comfort, not romance). Loki Pining. Jealous!Loki. Slow-Burn.

Wordcount: 1,929

Summary: The first practice with Thor and Loki ensues, much to your dismay. You soon realize that you and Loki as a team are more powerful than you thought possible: however, it leads to the injury of one of the Avengers. 

A/N: I knowwww there has not been Loki x Reader as much. Try to remember, this is a slow-burn and Dagger is still mourning! It pains me too! If you need to read the previous chapter, please do so here: Chapter I.

Waking up in the morning, you were dreading your practice with Loki and Thor. You had barely slept from the anxiety, even with going to bed early. You decided to start getting ready for your day, which included showering, and doing your skincare and hair. You opted out of makeup for the time being, given the soon sweaty environment. You crafted a long, dutch braid along the center of your head, which would commonly hold up in the practice room and in battle. You dressed in a sleek, tight jumpsuit that would promote easy movement, along with some boots. 

You waltzed down the hallway, then followed closely by Loki, who jogged to catch up with you. Oddly enough, it wasn’t exactly to force you into conversation. It was more so in order to relieve himself of the sight of your taut asscheeks and hips swinging from side to side. He had already relieved his morning wood earlier, and he didn’t want to evoke any of his carnal desires before training, especially around you.

Once beside you, Loki greeted you with a soft smile. “Good morning, darling. Ready to spar?” he teased. “Oh boy, am I ever. I’ll let you know, I’m a little rusty.” You mentioned, trying your best to remain positive. “Well, as long as you look like that, darling, I don’t think you’ll have any problems.” He winked. Your breath hitched, and your heart fluttered. 

But what about Cloak? 

Thankfully, Captain Rogers was near, waiting to greet you at the training room door. He was dressed in his training armor, which was drastically similar to his armor out on the field. “Good morning, Y/N, Loki. Tony and I will be overseeing the practice today, just to make sure everything goes well.” Oh thank god. You thought. Steve sent a smile your way, which was easily returned from you. It was hard not to. Loki’s stomach began bubbling in anger, but he was quickly able to force it to subside. Mine.

No no, stop Loki. She’s not yours. She’s in mourning. Don’t force her into anything. 

“Looking forward to it, Captain.” Something in the way you addressed Rogers sent Loki’s emotions spiraling again. No no no. 

You all entered the training room, where Thor and Tony were waiting. “Alright kids. It’s party time.” Tony announced. “Given that we know absolutely nothing of the nature of…” Tony gestured to yourself and Loki “you two. Cap and I will be spectating safely from the encased balcony above, but will intervene only if necessary. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You, Thor, and Loki all answered at once. 

“To start, we’re going to have Loki and Y/N team up, to see what the extent of this connection entails.” Tony continued. 

Connection. You didn’t exactly know how to feel about that word. Whatever you and Loki “had” was definitely… different. You still didn’t know how to feel in regard to it. But you had a feeling that your feelings would be clarified after practice today, at least a little bit. You would both finally have some answers. 

Loki caught your eyes, giving you a curt nod and a slight smile. You nodded back, suppressing your own smile. Trying your best to, at least. Loki caught on, and smiled to himself. He did want to impress you with his powers, but he also knew that his brother was powerful. Typically, Thor was the more well-known god, due to his flaunting about with his hammer, his lightning, and of course, the thunder. Loki had his… mischief. The magic could definitely come in handy, especially with creation of his duplicates. He also wondered if your powers would enhance his. Or his, yours? 

“Just, wait until Tony and I are out of the way, we know you’re all very powerful.” Cap spoke, sending a wink your way. He and Tony started up the stairs, while yourself, Loki and Thor all stood waiting. Thor was wielding Mjolnir, who you had yet to see the full effect of. Loki, in the midst, had tripled himself. One remained in Loki’s original place, one behind Thor (which Thor had yet to notice) and one behind yourself, which you definitely did notice. You nearly jumped, which caused your blades to press through the skin between your fingers, which you immediately noticed.

Your daggers tended to appear during dangerous situations, and given the light scare that Loki had given you. Loki’s attention was focused solely on you, as well as the adorable little jump you displayed after seeing himself behind you. He was jealous that it wasn’t him, and wished he had swapped places with that duplicate. 

You were quite the precious mortal, weren’t you? 

“Feel free to begin!” Tony shouted, and in a flash of a moment, Thor launched Mjolnir at you, which you quickly ducked from, followed by the Loki behind you. Though, it would have just gone right through him anyways. Right? 

As the hammer boomeranged back to Thor, you shot a dagger at him, which he also dodged. You began to approach Thor, with the intent to utilize your daggers close range. Loki followed close behind, with his own daggers wielded. 

Instead of this, however, Thor utilized Mjolnir to hurdle Loki backward. 

No! You heard your thoughts wail at you. “Loki!” You shouted, instinctively throwing one of your daggers at him, which caused Mjolnir to ricochet off of Loki and into the wall instead, while the blade itself landed in Loki’s chest, replenishing him of the previously lost momentum. He appeared next to you once again in a mere second, as you launched onto Thor’s shoulders, attacking him with your blades. He became woozy, but was still able to lure Mjolnir back to him, which effectively knocked you off of him. Loki caught you, which, to your surprise, hurled you both into the air like a rocket.

Both light and dark green magic surged behind you as you were propelled together across the room. Before you knew it, you were traveling back towards Thor, like you had both placed a target on him. Thor tried to launch Mjolnir, but it quickly deflected off of you both. 

Loki’s touch was magical in more ways than one. The air that carried you was animalistic, almost hungry to strike Thor down. You made eye contact with the god that held you, smiling at him. To your surprise, he was doing the same at you before you even noticed. You watched a gleam of green course across Loki’s eyes, and suddenly, you hit Thor.

You hardly even noticed the impact, from how the magic had encased yourself and Loki. 

When you landed, however, was when the consequences began. Thor was down. He laid unconscious on the ground, pallor consuming his body. “Thor!” You shouted, with no response. In an accelerated fashion, Tony and Steve made their way down to the arena. You ran to Thor, Loki following close behind. “Medical!” Tony yelled, prompting a surge of personnel into the space. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\〰

Thor was placed into the medical bay of the facility, while yourself and Loki stood in the doorway. You tried to stay out of the way as the professionals worked their… magic. 

“What did I do?” You asked suddenly. Loki went to comfort you, but spoke “we, darling. We.” 

“Loki, for gods’ sake! It’s not a good thing! Your brother is unconscious and severely injured.” 

Shit. Loki thought. I should not have said that. 

“Darling, Dag- I’m sorry. Please.” But you were already gone. You swiftly retreated to your corridors, anxious for some alone time now. Or, perhaps, for a while. You weren’t fond of the profound impact that yours and Loki’s magic together had. I mean, you hand single-handedly - double-handedly - taken out a literal god. Well, Loki was also a god. 

You skipped out on both lunch and dinner, you were fairly exhausted from the usage of your newfound powers, as well as the emotional toll of mourning Cloak, feeling connected to Loki, and your said connection to Loki inflicting damage to Thor. 

A little after both meals, you heard a knock at your door, which was followed by the slight tap of a ceramic plate outside the door. Someone was leaving meals for you. They were quite delicious, actually. What you could eat, anyways. Your brain was flooded with emotions, and you could hardly focus on anything other than them. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\〰

It was later in the evening that you heard another knock at your door. “Y/N?” You heard Steve’s voice on the other side. You approached, somehow glad that you weren’t going to be faced with Loki. You were greeted by the Captain, who was immediately weary of his words due to your appearance. You were slightly disheveled, your braid had started to separate from its form, and the look on your face was less than pleasant. “Hey- I’m sorry. I’m really exhausted after today.” You spoke, looking into Steve’s sympathetic eyes. 

“No worries at all, Y/N. I understand how this must be making you feel. I just came to see if there was anything you needed, even if it was just someone to listen.” 

“How’s Thor?” 

“He’s okay, in critical but stable condition, according to the Docs. Still unconscious.” 

“This was the absolute last thing I wanted to happen.” You spoke, bringing yourself towards him to bury yourself in his chest. He settled his arms around your back, steadily running his hands along your torso. “I know.”

Yet again, across the hallway, Loki lingered. He watched as you buried yourself in the Captain’s chest, with an incredulous amount of jealousy building in his own chest. He was the one who left meals at the door for you, and yet? Here you were, getting comfort from the Captain, yet again. 

His blood boiled. He nearly ran into the room to disband the sight.

No no Loki. Not now. 

Amidst the vision he saw in front of him, he heard the Captain say: “I know. I know you’d never mean to truly hurt Thor. You’re a healer of your own, in your soul.” 

Suddenly, you disbanded from one another, as an idea popped into your head. Healer. Yes! That had to be it! You could heal Thor, utilizing your life force! 

“Thank you, Cap! I couldn’t have done it without you.” You smiled, regaining your energy from earlier. You gave his arms a squeeze before you ran out of the room, towards the medical bay. 

Loki followed close behind, although you didn’t know it yet.

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\〰

You hurried to the med bay where Thor was staying, unconscious. You were reminded that it was your own doing that he was injured so terribly. 

You pulled up a chair next to him, leaning over his kindled body. You sighed, as images of yourself and Loki charging into Thor flooded your mind. You and Cloak never did anything of the sort. 

But maybe that was because you couldn’t. 

What you knew you were capable of doing, however? Healing. 

You lifted Thor’s gown so that you could reveal his abdomen, which looked painfully singed. Placing one hand down on his skin, you began to feel your blood pulsating. A flash of white magic raged between your palm and his stomach. 

Your life force was slowly being drained in order to heal the god, until the room beamed with bright light. Suddenly, it all went dark. Black. The last thing you remembered was hearing your name shouted from across the room “Y/N!”

>>> Chapter III

Taglist: @lotrefcp

[fanficsthatmakemybraingobrr]

A Night In Cairo

Chapter 1

Indiana Jones x Gender-Neutral Reader

You’re a Intern at Marshall College in Bedford Connecticut and you work with Dr.Jones, but he sucks at his job and is never there and is always behind with work making you get the short end of the stick. Then he drags you on a trip to Cairo with him.

I do want to clarify that I am making this story up as I go so i really have no idea where it is going, I'm just writing this to improve my writing skills, so this isn’t gonna be the best writing you’ll see. (and I wanted to write something with the new Indiana Jones movie coming out. I have major brain-rot! Gives me an excuse to write more about my comfort character >:} ) and if you have any feed back or criticism I would love to hear

Link to AO3

‘D correct, B nope wrong, A wrong, C that’s not even close.’ Walking down the very crowded and busy streets, while grading late work that your ‘boss’ didn’t finish and trying not to bump into people at the same time isn’t the most ideal way to start your morning, but you didn’t have a choice when he snuck them into your bag yesterday without telling you and leaving a note on top saying

“Grade these before tomorrow.” - Jones

At this point you don’t know why he’s a professor at a college if he’s never going to be in his office to do his work or help his students. ‘Incorrect…’ Probably one of the reasons these tests have horrible scores. He always does this when he's never in his office. His work plies up and you have to deal with finishing it and not to mention whiny students. ‘Wrong!’ This job is so frustrating!  ‘Wrong again!’ Why did you even agree to be an intern? 

As soon as you set foot on campus you finished grading the last piece of paper, you bring your bag around your body and place the late work in one of the pockets as you walk inside and make your way to Dr. Jones office. The whole building smells like an old book with a faint hint of coffee, it’s filled with the sound of people chatting, footsteps on the hardwood floor, students yelling- Turning the corner you see a crowd of students in front of Dr. Jones' door. They all look worried, pissed, or confused. One of the students sees you out of the corner of their eye. 

“Hey! You! You’re the professor's assistant or whatever, right? You can help us!” This causes other students to turn around and approach you with their problems. All the students are complaining to you all at once you freeze not knowing what to do. This all way too much. You .start to push your way through the wave of the students and up to the office door, and once you finally reach it you open the door. Before you enter the office you turn around to look at the students. 

“I know you’ll have concerns with the professor but right now, isn’t the best time to fix them! I’ll talk to Professor Jones and see if we can set up individual meetings!” 

The crowd of students let out a groan or a sigh of frustration, you close the door and take a deep breath recollecting yourself. You look up and surprise! He isn't here. His office is a small and narrow cluttered room with a messy desk that has work piled up high, shelves stuffed with artifacts and books, and in the back left corner there’s a boiler. It's a complete mess. The office is basically a storage room at this point, actually maybe it is. You take the late work out of your bag and place it on his desk, then sit down in a seat that’s in front of his desk while you check your watch. It's 9am. Class starts at 1pm. 

There’s a small radio on his desk you lean over and turn on. It starts to softly play music, sounds like Kay Kyser. You soak in the music as you look out the small window. It’s the one thing in this office that makes it less claustrophobic, it’s also great for daydreaming when you’re bored. The window is on the first floor of the building and has a nice view of the campus front lawn. Many students go out there to sit in the grass and study, it’s a good place to people watch. The weather is nice today. It's sunny out, the flowers are blooming, the trees are growing their leaves back, and Dr. Jones is speed walking across the sidewalk. Finally he’s here. Not too long later he pushes through the door. You look up at him.

“Good Morn-“ 

“Did you get the work done?” You point over to them on his desk. You're pretty used to him interrupting you. He hands you a cup then picks up the papers and puts them in a different pile, seriously how does this man stay organized? You looked down at the cup in your hand.

“What did you want me to do with this?”. You lift the cup. He doesn’t look at you and keeps going through things on his desk. 

“For you..to ya know…drink? I picked it up on the way here. I already drank mine on my way here…where is it? And uh.. I remember you don’t like coffee…so..I swear it was right here! I got you tea- Oh there!” He picked up a small scroll and put it in his pocket. This is probably the first time he’s ever done anything for you.

“Uh thanks?” Jones sits at his desk, he gives you a quick glance from over the top of his glasses and then starts to write something down, probably today’s lesson plan. Time passes and eventually noon comes and Jones and you walk side by side to the classroom. The work you do during Jones’ classes is very simple: he asks you to get something for him, or hand out papers etc. Hopefully one of these days he’ll let you actually talk. His classes are VERY boring, usually lectures with his rambling taking up most of class time. When you look out at his students a lot of them are usually sleeping, trying not to fall asleep, zoned out, or making goo goo eyes at him. Today was a lecture day.

“Ancient Egyptian artifacts are some of the most highly sought-after and mysterious relics of history. These objects have been passed down through generations and are seen as sacred and divine. They are typically made of gold, silver, or other precious metals and often depict scenes of ancient Egyptian life or mythology!” He’s rambling again. 

“These artifacts are a powerful link to the culture and history of Egypt and are valued for their cultural importance and great artistic value and-“ he pauses as he  looks out the door and standing there is Marcus Brody, an academic, curator, and good friend of Jones. Jones looks back over to his students and clears his throat 

“Uh, that’ll be all for today-“ and before he could say anything else students stampede through the door trampling anything in their way. When the students clear you walk over to the two older men to ask what’s going on. Jones also dismisses you as well and says he will see you tomorrow. You are about to protest but you shoot the thought down quickly, that man is too damned stubborn so you don’t question it and make your way home. Hey, at least you get to go home early, and he didn’t even give you anything to work on.

When you walk home you take your time taking in the scenery. Yes you're in a city and most places are grimy, crowded, and loud but there are still things to admire. Soon enough you arrive at your red brick apartment building. You walk up the rickety stairs of your small stairway and unlock your door. The door opens with a creek. Now this apartment is small when you walk in to your left is a very small kitchenette, right across from it is a twin sized bed and next to that is a small doorway leading to a bathroom with a closet shaped shower and toilet. It’s not much, but it’s home. 

You stole some food from the faculty lounge before you left, so you munch on it and get ready for bed. Reaching under your bed you pull out a foot locker that has your clothes in it and change. You sit on the edge of your bed and take a deep breath then let out a hefty sigh. This internship is so draining sometimes. At first it wasn’t that bad, it was actually quite fun. Until Jones kept disappearing and leaving you to deal with his problems. You can tell that he does try and loves to teach but he really needs to get his priorities in order and communicate better. You’ve thought of quitting multiple times because of how draining this job is, but it pays well and you need the money. You wish you could have something more exciting. You let out a yawn and stretch your arms above your head, looking over at your clock and it’s almost 10pm. Damn how long were you talking to yourself?

“Jeez I guess I should really go to bed..”you mutter to yourself. You get under your thin sheets and stare up at the ceiling waiting for dreams to begin. Your eyelids start to get heavy and right before you drift off someone knocks- no bangs on your door making you jump up. It’s so late at night who could be here? You panic a bit. What if someone is trying to break in? Your mouth goes dry, you go to your kitchen and grab your rolling pin then walk to the door. You took a deep breath and opened the door and were met face to face with a slumped over hands on his knees and very out of breath Dr.Jones. You have so many questions but before you could ask he started talking.

“Pack. We…are..leaving tomorrow.” He looks you dead in the eyes still breathing heavily.

“What?-“ he caught his breath and stood up a bit more, clearing his throat.

“We have to go.” You are so confused.

“Ok first off, what do you mean? Where are we going? What are you doing here? How do you know where I live? D-did you run here?” You stumble over your words. He sighs.

“Cairo. I am going to Cario. I came here to tell you that you're coming with me….also yes I did run here.” He looks down at your hands. 

“What’s with the rolling pin kid?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You look down and quickly come up with an excuse.“Uh, late night baking? But that doesn’t matter right now! I’m the one asking the questions! What do you mean Cairo? I can’t just leave, I have work. You have work!” He lets out another sigh this time it sounds a bit more frustrated.

“Look, we are going to Cairo. This trip is already funded and the college already knows. I told them. And you're an intern- my intern so you're gonna listen to me! C’mon get packed and I’ll be back to pick you up in the morning. I’ll explain and go into more details later.” And with that he turns around and leaves. You stand there for a moment in shock. What would you even pack for a trip like this? Also he never told you how he knew where you lived..

[sprout-senior]

my personal headcanon for how monsters procreate in utmv/utdr: the babies just appear.

enough magic and intent from minimum two monsters will make a baby, it doesn’t matter what kind of intent etc(thinking of how PJ happened as a result of a battle between an alternate ink and error)

so there’s no incubation period. due to this, babies are that much more reliant on their parents for the first couple years of their life. basically proximity to their parents is vital to their physical and magical development; they CAN survive with only one parent’s presence, but it causes problems(i am yet again bringing up PJ and how they were raised primarily by ink for the first few years, don’t have a super solid physical form, and aren’t very powerful despite having two gods for parents. obviously my personal reasoning for this is not canon btw)

this period of necessary proximity to their parents does not HAVE to be the original monsters responsible for their creation. they can develop just fine with “surrogate” parents, given the magic bonds successfully. they CANNOT survive without consistent parents, for lack of better phrasing. if left alone or passed between caretakers too much over a long enough period of time, the baby will Fall Down and subsequently dust. fucked up i know but it’s my worldbuilding headcanon and i get to pick the rules

babies can bond with more than two parents! there isn’t a known maximum amount of parents, since no one has really tried to push the limits, but with several parents the baby will paradoxically take longer to develop their specific type of magic(their physical development is not stunted, but their personal magic takes longer because their soul has to “pick” between several different types of magic to base itself on)

once they’re around two, the baby’s magic type is “locked in”, so to speak. if there are several parents, it can take as long as three or four years in comparison. their power level is influenced by their parents, but not entirely dependent on them. some kids just have more of an affinity for magic, for no discernible reason.

part of what i really like about this headcanon is that gender and species are not factors in making a stable child! incest is still weird tho, i am not a fan of incest in any capacity. also, this means no monster has to deal with the absolute nightmare that is pregnancy. no morning sickness, extreme pain, risk of life, etc is involved. lucky bastards (obligatory “disclaimer this is not to discount the experience of anyone who has had good experiences with pregnancy and have things they really like about it. just bc i can’t personally empathize doesn’t mean i can’t understand that y’all’s experiences are vastly different than mine and you have a perspective informed by things i’ll never have the same level of knowledge and understanding of”)

uhhh that’s the main stuff, i think. literally the entire reason i came up with this idea is because i am just. deeply uncomfortable with mpreg and skelepreg. i don’t have any problem with people who DO like it, i just personally can’t deal. this will not affect my opinion of anybody, i need to make that abundantly clear.

in any case, any utmv/utdr monsters i make will have been born and developed this way. yes this applies to female mammal monsters, it applies to ALL monsters in my personal headcanon. maybe i don’t need to clarify that but whatever

if you like this idea, you’re more than welcome to adopt it! i think it’s an interesting piece of lore to incorporate in stories. i might even apply this to magic centered original works, unrelated to utmv/utdr, because i have become attached. i might not end up pursuing original stories, that’s not really what i’m interested in at this point in time, but i’ll always keep the option open.

if someone else has come up with an idea similar to this, that’s awesome! i promise i did not intentionally steal anyone’s idea, i am not currently aware of anything like it, so please extend some courtesy and understanding for me in the event that there’s a coincidence. i would request the same for if someone comes up with something similar AFTER this is posted, especially since i’m such a small creator without a whole lot of reach.

finally, if i’ve accidentally done something problematic here PLEASE tell me so i can fix it! i never want to cause harm with my work :)

if you’ve read this far, thanks! id love to hear your opinions and/or additions if you’ve got any!

[dickgraysonwayne]

Today? Yesterday?

Ao3

Summary: Of all the things to kick off a time loop…

@dickgraysonweek 2024, Day 3: DILF Dick Grayson | Apologizing To Dick | Time Loop

Day 0

Dick knows it’s bad news when the man shrieks “A curse upon you!”

He changes course mid-flip, trying to predict where he’d be hit. He feels nothing, so he lands on the ground steadily, looking up at the platform where the man stands: finger pointed in his direction and a wild look on his face.

“Whoa,” Dick says, putting his arms up. “I didn’t know we were rolling like that.”

For all he had figured, this was supposed to be a quick grab-and-go rescue of a Blüdhaven mayoral candidate. She’d made a promise to clean up the city and, of course, certain groups weren’t very pleased with the concept.

Instead, he’d run into an armed-to-the-teeth gang that were not making this rescue any easier. So, he’d opted for a more subtle approach, sneaking around on rooftops until he was able to maneuver his way into a large warehouse. He’d wandered through, found a locked room in the corner, and then—

And then he’d run into…whatever this was, and the situation turned from guns&gangs to curse&magic territory.

He really hadn’t been ready for curses.

“Okay,” Dick says, eyes darting around. He needs to get to that door. “So, um. When you say curse, do you mean a plague on both your houses lamenting type curse or may you turn into a frog type curse?”

The man doesn’t clarify. “A curse,” He screeches again. “May you never find satisfaction in validation. May you be locked in a cycle of discontent. May the one who you need the most from—”

The man squacks as he’s interrupted by a Batarang to the head. Stunned, he falls backwards onto the platform and stays there.

Dick puts his arm down. “Well,” He says. “That was more…high minded than curses usually are. Very psychological.”

He hadn’t seen any physical indications of anything actually happening, but you can never be sure with this kind of thing. He hopes that whatever this was didn’t take.

“Okay,” He mutters to himself. He wishes Roy would’ve seen this, he would’ve found it hilarious. “Let’s finish this.”

He runs towards the door probably holding the promise for Blüdhaven’s future, hoping that the rest of the day goes by without any further incident.

Day 1

They’re not even in costume when it happens.

Hell, they’re not even working when it happens.

Instead, Dick finds himself making the long trip to Gotham the next morning, called in to assist with something Tim is working on. It’s something from your files, back in the day, Tim had said over the phone. Can you make your way over?

He’d slept in a bit, hoping to enjoy his Sunday. But getting to spend time with Tim is always great too, so he had agreed to make his way over.

It had taken maybe a few minutes to explain the case (Two-Face, now that was a time), before Tim had gotten what he needed. “Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

“Need any help?” Dick asks, tapping his fingers on the table, feeling restless.

“If you’re staying,” Tim says. “I’ll be going out at, like, 2300 so. You sticking around?”

Dick shrugs. “Sure,” He says. “Since I’m here. B around?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, sitting back into a stretch. “He’s workin’ on something else, I dunno.”

“Look at you!” Dick says, messing with his hair. “Solo mission guy over here!”

“Quit it!” Tim says, batting his hand away. “I’ve been solo mission guy!”

Dick laughs. “Hey,” He says, getting off of the chair. “You wanna go get some burgers or something? There’s still a long way to go til 2300 hours.”

“Sure,” Tim says, languidly getting up. “Man, I feel like I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

-

And that’s when, whilst heading over to grab a burger in town, Dick tells Tim about his encounter the day before.

“It was pretty insane,” He tells him as they pull out of the manor’s driveway. “The whole curse thing made me a little nervous, not gonna lie. That stuff gives me the heebie jeebies. But I got up just fine today, everything totally normal. So either the dude didn’t actually get me, or he was talking a big game.”

Tim frowns. “That’s a little weird,” He says, taking a sip of water from his Robin branded water bottle. “You should be careful though. You never know with magic.”

Dick nods vigorously. “Exactly!” He says, making his way to the manor’s large gate. “There aren’t any rules or anything to watch out for. You just gotta wait and see for something to happen before you can do anything about it.”

Tim’s frown only deepens. “I don’t know about that,” He says. “Maybe you should go talk to Zatanna. I dunno, I wouldn’t mess with this stuff. Have her check you over or something.”

“Yeah, but it’s not even a guarantee with her,” Dick says, waiting for the gate to open. “Sometimes magic doesn’t show up or whatever even when she checks. It’s a total crapshoot. But the smart idea still would be to check anyway—”

He jumps as Tim loses his grip on his water bottle, spilling it over his lap and the seat. “Ah, shit!” Tim says, hurriedly picking the bottle back up.

“No worries, Timbo,” Dick says, grabbing some tissues from the side of the door. “It’s just water.”

“I know,” Tim says. “Even so, though, I’m sorry-”

Everything stops.

Day 2

Dick wakes up.

He blinks up at his apartment ceiling. Damn, he thinks, yawning deeply. That was one hell of a dream. He feels around on his bedside table for his phone, then blinks at the numbers on top: 08:04

Damn. Slept in.

That curse must’ve really been playing in his thoughts, to follow him into his dreams like that. Unless it was a curse about dreams, which means it was now starting to work…

Dick shakes his head. He can’t think like that. If he does, it’s never going to end.

He levers himself up, stretching again. He’s going to enjoy his Sunday morning before updating his reports on the night before, maybe figure out what to do about the whole curse thing…

His phone buzzes, and he picks it back up. Tim.

Curious, and trying to push away the ominous feeling in his gut, he answers.

-

Okay. So this is a little weird. But, hey. It’s not like he’s never had a dream about hanging out with Tim before. It’s a perfectly normal thing for him to do. Plus, well, he has been keeping an eye on Gotham. Maybe he’d subconsciously known that something was going on, that Tim would reach out to him for help…

And then it had gotten weirder. But. Still explainable. If he’d been keeping an eye out on Gotham, maybe he’d figured out somewhere back in his mind that Two-Face was going to be the problem…

“Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

“Hm,” Dick says. He taps on the table, feeling off. “Okay.”

“Dick?”

He looks up. Tim is looking at him, concern in his eyes. “Everything good? You seem a little…distracted.”

“Oh,” Dick says, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m just…you know. In my head a little. There’s a whole—” He waves it off. “I’ll explain later. Um, you gonna need any help on your mission?”

“If you’re staying,” Tim says, still eyeing him with concern. “I’ll be going out at, like, 2300 or so. You sticking around?”

The Deja Vu hits him even harder. “Sure,” He says. “Hey. Is this a solo mission?”

Tim gives him a small smile. “Yeah,” He says. “I’ve been doing them for a while now. B’s working on his own thing, I’m working on mine.”

“Nice, Timmy,” Dick says, finding a smile for him in return. “Hey, wanna go get something to eat? I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.” He shoots to his feet, needing to move, needing to do something.

“Um,” Tim says, stumbling up with him. “Yeah, sure. Yeah let’s get…let’s get burgers, or something.”

Dick nods, fast walking his way out. An icy feeling grows in his stomach.

-

“What were you saying earlier?”

Dick starts, looking away from the slowly opening gate. “Hm?”

“You had a whole,” and Tim makes a circle gesture with his hands. “Thing you were thinking about. What was it?”

“Oh,” Dick says. “Well. Um. I had a little…run-in yesterday. Some guy yelled that he was gonna put a curse on me. And, like, I didn’t feel anything off or anything like that. But today…I don’t know. It’s all weird today. Like majorly Deja Vu or something.”

Tim frowns. “That’s weird,” He says, taking a sip of water. “You should be careful though. You never know with magic. In fact, you should probably—”

“Go to Zatanna, I know,” Dick says distractedly. “I will. I think I should. After our mission today, I will. It’s just…nothing specific, you know? Just an off feeling.”

The gate opens, and Dick quickly turns to the side. “Hey—”

He catches Tim’s water bottle, just as Tim drops it.

“Oh!” Tim says, flinching back. “Hey. Nice catch.”

Dick hands it back to him, mind spinning.

“I don’t know what happened,” Tim continues. “I wasn’t paying attention, I guess, sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 3

Dick wakes up.

He shoots up in bed with a gasp. He throws his sheets off of him then lunges at his phone, unlocking the screen to check the day and time. Sunday. 08:04.

He falls back into bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. Okay, He thinks, slightly hysterical. Okay. This is…this is probably the curse, huh? This is probably the curse.

What had the man said again? Something about…validation. Satisfaction in validation. And a cycle of discontent.

Well. That’s the cycle part figured, then. He’s gonna keep resetting until he breaks whatever curse this is. So, all he needs to do is figure out exactly what it is that’s going on that’s causing the resets, and he should be good to go. Right?

“Okay,” He tells himself. “Okay, what were the factors that set this off? What made me reset?”

The obvious answer, is, of course, Tim.

He thinks on this for a moment. He’ll need to tell Tim everything, brainstorm through the issue with him. He’s smart, he’ll probably help him figure this out…

His phone rings. He looks down. Tim.

He picks up.

“Hey, Dick,” Tim says. “So, I’m working on something—”

“I’m on my way,” Dick says, running to his closest to grab something. “Just gimme a—”

“Hey,” Tim says, confusion clear in his voice. “It’s okay, there’s no emergency or anything, I just need your help with something.”

“I know,” Dick says. “And I can do that. But I need your help with something too. Buckle up, it’s a weird one.”

-

“Time loop?” Tim says, eyes wide.

“Time loop.” Dick confirms with a nod.

Tim sits back in his chair, baffled. “Well,” He says. “The good news is that you’ve only just started on this, I guess. Maybe you won’t have to deal with it for much longer.”

Dick groans, going facedown on the table’s surface. “Don’t do that,” He says, voice muffled. “You just jinxed me.”

“Shut up,” Tim says, but he sounds distant. “What did the guy say again?”

Dick lifts his head. “He cursed me with never finding satisfaction in validation,” He says. “And told me I’d be stuck in a cycle of discontent. And then he started saying something about a person I’d need it from before I stopped him.”

“Hm,” Tim says, steepling his fingers together. “And when you went through the days with me, it reset at about the same time both times?”

“Yeah,” Dick side eyes him. “You’ve got your I-have-an-idea face there, Timbo.”

“I do not,” Tim says, making his I-have-an-idea face. “Well. I do have an idea…not a very specific one, but still.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“There’s a specific series of events,” Tim begins, “That lead to your reset. I speak with you, you come here, we discuss the case, we go out to get food, I drop my water, and then you wake up. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “That’s right.”

“So,” Tim says. “What if we disrupt it? We break the chain of events. And then we can see from there. It could be time related. Did we leave at about the same time both days? Did the reset happen at about the same time both days?”

Dick thinks about it for a second. “You know what…” He says slowly. “Yeah. It did. Around…12:30, I wanna say?”

“Okay,” Tim says. “So let’s stay in. And then wait for 12:30. Disrupt the chain of events, and then see if you reset or not. And if you don’t…we’ll know it’s not time dependent, and we can try to work on it from there.”

“Timbo,” Dick says, beaming at him. “That’s a great idea. You’re great!”

Tim blushes. “Come on,” He says. “Stop it. It’s just an idea. I didn’t even think about what the actual phrasing of the curse could actually mean.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dick says, grinning. “It’s a start! And if I don’t reset at 12:30…it means we’re making progress! And maybe I won’t have to be stuck in this, which I would very much appreciate.”

Tim smiles back. “Well,” He says. “If you do reset, come find me, okay? We can pick up where we left off, and you can explain everything we’ve tried so far.”

“You’re the best, Timmy,” Dick says. He checks his phone. “I think we’ll find out soon, anyway. We hit 12:30 in about half an hour, so. We’ll know then.”

Tim nods at him. “Okay,” He says, sighing. “So. We wait.”

-

Half an hour passes with the speed of molasses. Dick can’t sit still the entire time: his knee jumps constantly, he fiddles with anything he can get his hands on, he gets up and paces on occasion.

Fifteen minutes in, Tim looks at him askance. “That isn’t helping you, Dick,” He says, clearly trying to be patient with him. “Sit down. Nap, or something. Wait, actually don’t. Go watch puppy videos on your phone, or something.”

“As cute as that sounds,” Dick says. “I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

Tim sighs. “You’re so fidgety,” He complains. “You must have been such a nightmare child. I feel like apologizing to Bruce on your behalf.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Dick defends. “If anything, Bruce needs to apologize to me for not being able to manage my energy.”

Tim grins. “Well,” He says. “Can’t say I disagree with you on that.” He checks his phone. “Okay,” He says, countenance turning entirely. “Minute to go. Tell me if you start feeling weird, or something.”

Dick nods, shifting nervously. “Will do,” He says, then starts counting time in his head. 60, 59, 58…

He makes it to the last few, 4, 3, 2, 1, then braces himself.

Nothing happens.

Dick turns to Tim. “I feel normal,” He tells him. “No resetting feeling or anything going on from here!”

“Let’s wait a little longer, Tim says, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe there’s a specific time to the minute or second to hit, and we haven’t gotten there yet.”

Dick groans. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He says, sitting down again. “Okay. Let’s wait.”

Another fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty.

And still nothing.

Dick turns to Tim again, eyebrows raised. “It looks like I’m still good,” He says. “I think we can say that I’m in the clear?”

Tim nods. “Looks like,” He says. “So it’s not time dependent. Nor chain of events dependent. There has to be a trigger here. We have to find out what it is.”

Dick nods, tapping a finger to his knee. “Satisfaction in validation,” He mutters. “So that means…it’s something where I got validated for something? When did that happen in the previous resets?”

Tim frowns. “Let’s try to go through your day,” He says. “Specific things you did. Specific things you said. Maybe we’ll figure it out that way.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “My memory isn’t as good as yours,” He says, running through his days in his head. “And…I don’t know, the details are kinda fuzzy. But I’ll try.”

“I know, Tim says, not unsympathetic. “It’s not easy, sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 4

Dick wakes up.

Shit, he thinks. It’s unnecessary at this point, but he checks his phone again. Sunday. 08:04.

He taps his phone to his chin, frustrated. Right. So, it clearly isn’t a Tim-specific problem. Or, maybe it is? Maybe it’s the combination of location and person?

If that’s the case…maybe if he just doesn’t go, then he doesn’t reset.

Satisfaction in validation.

He still isn’t sure about that one. But if he can hack it by breaking the curse without figuring that out, then he’ll take it.

Anyway, if he stays away from Tim for the day, he might figure out how long it’ll let him go before it resets. Will it go on forever, until he sees Tim. Will he have to avoid him for a while? Can’t let that happen, He thinks. That would be ridiculous.

He really should give Zatanna a call. She might be able to break the curse without even needing to figure that part out.

His phone rings, and he picks up without even looking the screen. “Hey Timmy,” He says, deciding not to try to tip him off that anything was amiss. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Dick,” Tim responds, “I’ve got something here—”

“Okay Tim,” Dick says, going to get his day started (again). “If you need my help with something, I’m all in. But I’ve got something I gotta go do, so I can’t actually come over. Is it something you can send me? Promise I’ll help out.”

“Sure,” Tim says, sounding a bit taken aback. “Yeah, no worries. Thanks for the help, Dick. I’ll send it to you now. Standby.”

“Thanks, Timmy. See ya.” Dick says, disconnecting, and feeling a little bad about the whole thing. He’d usually jump at any opportunity or hang out, which Tim knows. He doesn’t think he’d hurt his feelings or anything, but he still does feel a bit guilty for blowing him off like that.

It’s for a good cause, He thinks. I’ll come by to see him when all this is over.

He thinks about Tim’s directive to come see him during the next reset. Sorry, buddy. Maybe if I reset again. So, what can he do? How does he go about solving this problem?

He gets ready, thinking about how to go about his day. Maybe I should call Zatanna, He thinks, putting his jacket on. And hopefully she’ll be able to see me now.

Dick heads out of his apartment, not having a particular plan in mind. He pulls out his phone, considering giving Zatanna that call. He scrolls through his contacts, hovering over her name, conflicted.

As he goes to open the doors to his building’s stairwell, they suddenly swing open in his direction. Startled, he steps back, just about missing being flattened by the door.

One of his neighbors emerges, almost bumping into him. “Oh my god,” The man says. “I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 5

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He sighs, leaning back against his pillow. Take 5, I guess.

Right. Okay, so. It’s pretty clear what’s causing this now.

Satisfaction in validation. Apology.

If he receives an apology, no matter who it’s from, then his day resets.

He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed before. Both times with Tim and the water bottle, he’d apologized to trigger the time loop. In the non water bottle day, Tim’s “sorry” had triggered it. With his neighbor, the apology from the door had triggered it. Getting it from a new person had really brought it home.

So, solutions?

He sits back up, holding his phone, waiting for Tim’s call. The obvious play would be to just…not receive any apologies. While it’s easier said than done, it would definitely give him an idea of what’s going on, and help him test how far this loop is going to let him do. Could he go days, weeks, even years without an apology, then receive one and loop back around? That would be a problem.

Well. Maybe he can test it out, just for today. A no-apology-day.

The phone rings. He picks it up. “Hey, Timmy,” He says. “How’re you doing?”

“Hey Dick,” Tim responds, “I’ve got something here—”

Well. If he wants to be left alone today…

“Oh yeah, Tim,” Dick says, trying his best to remember his earlier statement. “If you need my help with something I’m ready. But I’ve got something i have to do today, so I can’t actually come over. Can you send me the files and I’ll give you a call about them later? I’d come if I could, promise.”

“Sure,” Tim says, and he sounds the same as last time, excellent. “Yeah, no worries. Thanks for the help, Dick. I’ll send it to you now. Standby.”

“See ya Timbo,” Dick says, disconnecting with a sigh. It’s more waiting, then. And this time, he’s gonna have to do it alone.

-

Staying away from people all day is difficult.

He knows he’s got a reputation as a people-person, but that’s only because he has the fortune to be in probably the most socially awkward family in history. He actually doesn’t mind a little alone time every now and then.

This, though? This is total isolation. And, while he’s wired and worried and anxious, is a tough thing for him to overcome.

He spends the first part of his day working on the stuff Tim sent him. He’d seen it all before, of course, but he makes sure to really pour over the information, adding a lot of very detailed explanations and analyses. He hopes this doesn’t make Tim suspicious (who is he kidding? Of course it will) but hopefully he won’t have enough time to actually act on his suspicions before Dick can hopefully move on to phase two of his curse-breaker plan.

After he sends all his notes to Tim, he finds himself left with hours and hours of time and people to avoid. Which, actually, is harder than he’d anticipated.

He spends the rest of the day from late afternoon fielding calls. As a general rule, Dick always picks up (just in case. You never know who’s using a burner). But man, he hasn’t realized exactly how many people call him until he wanted to avoid talking. After checking to see if anyone was in any immediate danger (they were not) he’d make his excuses and hop off swiftly before anyone got it their minds to give him an apology of some kind.

Not to mention the texts. And half of them aren’t even work stuff: just Wally sending him memes, or Donna sending him memes, or Babs sending him another article on the activities of the Red Hood, or Amy sending him memes, or Clark sending his weekly “good afternoon 😊” texts that he somehow manages to stick to every single week. Dick doesn’t know if apology-by-text would count here, and it is a minefield navigating conversations to make sure that the word is never sent from the other end.

“Sorry” is, in Dick’s opinion, very overused.

As for the rest of his time in self-induced isolation, he tries to keep himself busy. The TV is on, and he scrolls through all the things he’d put on his watch later list on streaming services (he watches nothing). He picks up a book he’d planned to trying (only to put it down minutes later, unable to concentrate). He tries stretching and running through some gentle warmup exercises (this one takes).

Overall, it’s not an experience he’s keen on repeating. If I make it 24 hours without looping, he tells himself firmly. I’m going to call Zatanna.

It probably would’ve been smarter to start with her, like Tim had said, but hey. The more info he can give her about how this works, the easier time she’ll have lifting it.

He makes it to the evening, and then into the night without further incident. Thankfully, Tim hadn’t tried to call him back. Nor did, to his relief, Bruce. Bruce would probably see through him in a heartbeat, and involving him in this would be a headache and a half to deal with.

As time ticks down to midnight, Dick feels exhaustion wash over him, thanks to the nervous tension he’d held on to the entire day. No he tells himself, staring at the blurry numbers on his phone. Stay awake.

Once midnight passes, maybe he can take a nap. Then he can figure out what to do next.

He rubs at his eyes, glancing at his phone again. 23:59.

Well, he’s almost done with the full day. This should give him a good idea of how this curse wo—

12:00

Everything stops.

Day 6

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He doesn’t even wait for the phone call this time. Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, tapping on Zatana’s name with a determined finality.

-

“Ah. Well, that seems like an issue, doesn’t it?”

Dick groans, putting his head in his hands. “Yeah,” He says, voice muffled between his fingers. “It really is. Thanks for coming to help break it. I couldn’t risk going out to you.”

A hand pats his head. “No problem,” Zatanna says, sounding amused. “And, look. Could be worse. You’re, what, a week in? Not too bad. And with the myriad of curses out there? This is a pretty light one, comparatively speaking.”

Dick sighs, dropping his hands on his lap. “I guess,” He says. “So. What’s the deal here? Can you break this…whatever it is?”

“Let me check,” Zatanna puts a hand on his head and closes her eyes. Her hand glows into a warm, white light, and he feels a sense of peace wash over him…

She takes her hand away. “There’s definitely something there,” She says, sitting back down across from him. “But. I’ll tell you right now, it’s more risk than it’s worth to break from my end.”

Dick frowns. “What’s the risk?” He asks.

Zatanna shrugs. “Since I don’t know the magician, or the source of the magic,” She says. “I’d have to go with a general curse break. It would require a lot of energy from both our sides, and then you would need to keep feeding the break from your own energy. It takes too long, or you don’t have enough? Well…it would be risky, let’s just say that. It wouldn’t be worth it for a relatively low stakes curse like this.”

“Okay,” Dick says. “Yeah. I see your point. So,” He crosses his arms. “What do you think? How would I break this and resolve the time loop normally?”

Zatanna goes over to his fridge, pulls out a water bottle. “Here,” She says, giving it to him.

Dick takes it, confused. “Will drinking this solve it?”

Zatanna laughs. “It’s just water,” She says, sitting back down next to him. “You look dehydrated. Okay. I need your memory recall.”

Dick takes a sip. “Okay,” He says.

“We need to go through the exact wording of the curse,” She says. “Figure out exactly what you were cursed with, and then resolve it. Probably the best way to deal with it would be to confront it directly.”

Dick frowns. “Okay,” He says, going through the memory. “Exact wording? I went through this with Tim earlier. Um,” He thinks for a moment. “May you never find satisfaction in validation. May you be locked in a cycle of discontent. May the one who you need the most from—” He stops. “He cut off there.”

“Huh,” Zatanna says. She looks elegant even when she’s confused. “That’s…verbose.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick says. “Anyway. I think I’ve figured out what the first two parts mean. Satisfaction in validation probably refers to the apologies, because every loop occurred right after I got one. Cycle of discontent is probably the loop, because, well, I’ve been looping. The third part got interrupted, so I don’t know if it went through…”

Zatanna gives him a piercing stare. “Interesting,” She says. “Wait a moment. Let me try something.”

Dick nods. “Go for it.”

She looks directly at him, mouth curled up in a slight smile. “I’m sorry,” She says.

Dick flinches, slamming his eyes shut. A moment later, he opens them to find Zatanna still sitting across from him, eyes sparkling.

“Why’d you do that?” Dick demands, heart pounding. “At least warn me first.”

Zatanna laughs. “I know,” She says. “I needed to check something. So. It looks like the apology needs to be sincere in order to trigger the reset.”

“Oh,” Dick says. “Okay. I see what you did. So this is better, right? Just hearing sorry won’t be enough to catapult me back?”

“Yes,” Zatanna says. “I have to tell you, though. I think this just made the curse break a lot more complicated.”

Dick frowns. “How so?”

“Well,” Zatanna says. “The third part of the curse. That’s the key to breaking it. He may not have finished the phrase but he started it, which should’ve been enough to make it stick. It looks like you’re gonna have to hear an apology from a specific person, a sincere apology, in order the break the curse.”

Dick breaks out into a smile. “Thanks, Z,” He says. “Should be easy enough, right? I have to tell you, I was expecting something a lot more—”

He trails off at the sympathetic look on her face. “What?” He asks, an ominous feeling settling over him. “What is it?”

“Well,” She says. “The wording says ‘the one who you need the most from’ is the person you’ll need to get the sincere apology from. Tell me, who do you think that is?”

Dick turns it over in his mind for a moment, then…

Bruce…A voice in his head whispers. It sounds like his own, but not.

He freezes. “Oh no.”

“Yeah,” Zatanna says, exuding sympathy again. “I think we both know who that should be.”

“How do you know?” He asks, heart pounding. “Are we even thinking of the same person?”

“Oh, please,” Zatanna says. “Who else could it be? We can confirm it though. Does he dress like a bat and fight crime?”

Dick groans. “Oh my god,” He says. “How am I even gonna do that? Get a sincere apology from him? I can’t even talk to him most of the time.”

“You’ll have to, to break the curse.” Zatanna says. Dick takes another sip of water. “And remember, you only have til midnight of the same day to do it.”

“A deadline,” Dick says, despairing. “Even better.”

“Right,” Zatanna says. “So you have a plan, then? Know where you’re going?”

“Yeah,” He says. “I just have to come up with an idea…”

“You’ll probably need the full day,” Zatanna says. “So allow me, okay? Good luck.”

Dick frowns at her. “What do you mea—”

She looks him right in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

Everything stops.

Day 7

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He groans, considering just going back to sleep and dealing with this again tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. Whatever.

Because, well. Getting Bruce involved? That’s gonna be a whole ordeal.

Not to mention, getting Bruce to give him a sincere apology in less than a day? Talk about an impossible task.

He might as well get started now. He’ll need all the time he can get.

The phone rings.

“Hey, Timbo,” Dick says. “How’s it going?”

-

In many ways, this day plays out a lot like the first one.

He shows up at Tim’s invitation, then takes him through the case that he now knows like the back of his hand. Tim’s shocked but impressed, and it’s really amusing even though he’s kind of cheating.

“Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

And here’s where the divergence has to happen.

Dick nods. “No worries,” He says. “Hey. Bruce around?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “He’s around here somewhere, probably down in the Cave. Why?”

“Gotta talk to him,” He says, standing up. He ruffles Tim’s hair on the way. “See you later.”

He can’t tip them off. If the apology needs to be sincere, Bruce cant be aware that it has to be, or the sincerity is gone. Right?

It’s gonna be a challenge either way, and he takes the route down to the cave in a grim sort of silence.

He taps on the large wall twice as he walks in, sound echoing across the cave. “Hey, Bruce,” He says, heart pounding. “How’s it going?”

Bruce is sitting at the computer, staring at bits of data that only make sense to him. “Dick,” He acknowledges, without turning around. “Working on this. You been hearing about what’s going on in New York?”

“Hm?” Dick goes through his non-time-loop-related memory bank. “Oh. You mean…the alien incident? Yeah. Why, is that relevant to us?”

“Maybe,” Bruce says, still staring at the screen. “Possibly. There’s something there…”

He trails off. Dick is familiar with the pauses, so he waits patiently.

He’s putting it off. Time is of the essence, and he’s putting it off. But goddamn. He really does not want to do this.

The only thing he can think of doing at this point is to go in bluntly. He doesn’t have time to plan a more nuanced approach, and Bruce’ll probably see right through it anyway.

Here we go, Dick thinks, before taking a deep breath. “Bruce,” He says, and he can barely get the words out. “We need to talk, okay?”

He’s not sure if it’s the words or the tone that gets Bruce’s attention, but it works. Right away, Bruce whirls around in his chair. His focus, previously fully on the screen in front of him, is now concentrated entirely on Dick. “What is it?” Bruce asks, and he staring at him like he’s able to see right into his brain, like he’s reading through his thoughts one by one.

The weight of his attention is almost too much to bear. “Um,” He says, taking another breath. “It’s. Well. It’s kind of a long story.”

Bruce isn’t moved. “You’re sacred,” He observes, leaning closer. “What is it? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

Dick lets out a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure. “Do you trust me?” He asks.

This probably doesn’t help with Bruce’s concern. His eyes narrow. “Why?” He asks. “What’s wrong?”

“If you do,” Dick says. “I need you to trust me on this. Um. I need an apology, okay?”

Whatever Bruce had anticipated he’d say, it was clearly not this. “What.” He says flatly, more of a statement than a question.

“I…” Dick says, feeling like he’d made a mistake with his approach. “I need you to say sorry, okay? To me.”

Bruce is, uncharacteristically, shocked into silence. He sits back, face impassive, eyes confused. “For what?” He finally asks, when Dick doesn’t elaborate further.

Of all the questions…“Anything,” Dick says, and he feels his face grow hot. “Pick something. There’s a lot… I just need a verbal apology from you, okay? And you need to mean it.”

Bruce’s face finally cracks, settling on a frown. “What is this?” He asks, voice rising. “Where is this coming from?”

“You trust me, right?” Dick says, an edge of desperation to his voice. “I need you to do this. Please.”

He thinks the plea will be enough. It isn’t.

Bruce just stares at him. “What is this?” He repeats, then: “Tell me this: how old were you when I fired you?”

Dick’s stomach drops. “Bruce,” He says. “It’s me. I’m me, you don’t need to check—”

“How old?” Bruce snaps. Dick can see his hands drift to his belt.

He exhales. “Seventeen,” He says, conceding defeat. “It was after I got shot.”

Bruce’s hands pause right before they get to his weapons. “Then,” He says. “Why are you asking this? You’re not making any sense.”

“I know,” Dick says. “But…I’ll explain later. I just need this from you. Please.”

Bruce grits his teeth. “I can’t do that unless I know..”

Dick stares at him. “You won’t?” He asks. “You’re not gonna trust me on this?”

Bruce doesn’t answer, still eyeing him suspiciously.

Dick tastes defeat on his tongue. Embarrassment, rage, and sadness battle in his throat. “Fine,” He says shortly, turning around. “I’ll…I’ll go then. See you tomorrow.”

Bruce doesn’t go after him.

-

Dick gets back home and goes right to his apartment, slamming the door shut as he enters.

He’ll need another plan tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. But, for now…

For now, he sits and stares at the time until it hits midnight.

Day 8

Dick wakes up.

He doesn’t even bother to check the date and time, jumping out of bed and grabbing for his clothes.

Okay. New plan. New approach. But what? Straightforward isn’t going to work. Subtle isn’t going to work. What’s left to him now? How can he possibly get Bruce to apologize to him and mean it?

He freezes in the middle of putting on a sock. Maybe…maybe he wasn’t doing enough earlier. Maybe he needs to get more straightforward. God knows Bruce can pull out sincerity when he needs it. Maybe hearing that the world is in a time loop that only he can break will do enough.

Grimly, he pulls the rest of the sock on. He’ll be able to tell Tim this way too, and maybe the both of them can convince Bruce of doing this together.

The phone rings. He grabs it. “Timmy,” He says. “It’s Two Face, by the way. Your case. You’ll just need to set your trap for tonight, and you’re golden.”

There’s a short silence, then: “How did you know that?” Tim asks, baffled. Dick can practically hear him peering at all corners of his room. “How—”

“I’m on my way, okay?” Dick says, grabbing his keys. “I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

-

“Time loop?” Tim says, eyes wide.

“Time loop.” Dick confirms with a nod.

“Damn,” Tim says, shaking his head. “And I told you to keep coming to me to figure this out and you didn’t? Lame. This could’ve been over by now.”

Dick huffs a laugh. “Honestly,” he says, shrugging. “You might be right.”

“How’re you gonna…you know?” Tim says, giving him a sideways glance. “Get Bruce to agree? Think cluing him in to all this is gonna help?”

“It has to, right?” Dick says, sighing. “I mean, asking him to do it didn’t work. If he knows it’s a time loop, then he’ll try.”

“But what if trying is the problem,” Tim says, and Dick stops him before he can continue.

“I know,” Dick says. “I considered that one too. But we have to try. The other way didn’t work, and if this does then we’re golden. If not…then I guess I’ll have to try something else.”

Tim rubs his head. “Well,” he says. “At least you get a bunch of do overs, free of charge. It’s not even a this-place-kinda-sucks Groundhog Day situation.”

Dick can only laugh. “Yeah,” He says. “We’re only on round 8, too. Haven’t even reached double digits yet.”

“Light work,” Tim scoffs, then stands up. “C’mon. Let’s go tell Bruce now.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, the familiar dread starting to form in his stomach. “Okay, let’s go.”

When they make their way down to the Cave, Bruce is exactly where Dick had left him. Staring at the a screen, contemplating the information within.

“Dick,” Bruce says, almost like an announcement. I know that you’re there. “Come take a look at this. You been hearing about what’s going on in New York?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, making his way over. He doesn’t look at the screen. “I couldn’t tell you if it’s relevant or not to us, though. But, Bruce. Listen. I need your help with something.”

“Hm?” Bruce says. His eyes stay on the screen, but Dick can tell that he’s listening. “What is it?”

Dick gives a side glance to Tim. Tim gives him a thumbs up. “Well,” He begins. I seem to have found myself in a…time loop situation. Groundhog Day style.”

This interests Bruce enough that he turns around, pinning Dick with a very familiar searching look. “Time loop?” He asks, then. “Report.”

“I got cursed,” Dick says, keeping it short and simple. “In Blüdhaven. I’ve completed about 7 resets so far. The loop triggers whenever I get an apology, and when the day ends. I spoke with Zatanna during one of the resets, and she told me that I essentially got cursed with needing to hear a sincere apology from…well, you. And if you do that, it’ll stop the loop.”

Bruce barely flinches. Dick’s kind of impressed despite himself. “Hm,” Bruce says, eyeing him critically. “Is this verifiable?”

“It is,” Tim chimes in. “He knew about the thing I’m working on. Knew the questions I was gonna ask him before I was able to do it.”

“Interesting,” Bruce says. “Well. An apology, you say?”

Dick shrugs. “Yeah,” He says, “Should be easy enough, right? It had to be sincere to work, though. The word itself doesn’t trigger anything. It’s more like the word plus the intention.”

Bruce considers him further. “Right,” He says, almost to himself. “Well then. My apologies.”

Dick waits. Nothing happens.

“You have to mean it, Bruce,” He tries. “Just…anything. Anything you have any guilt about. It should work.”

Bruce looks him in the eye, holds contact for a few second, then darts a glance to the side. “I’m sorry,” He says. It sounds somber, real.

Another beat. Nothing happens.

“Are you sure?” Bruce says, and Dick makes an annoyed sound. “That this is supposed to be me?”

“Pretty sure,” Dick says, already tired of the conversation.

“Why?” Bruce says. He gets up, clearly getting into detective-mode. “What did the curse say exactly? I need precise details.”

Dick sighs. “Bruce…”

Tim sidles up to him. “Dude,” He says, sympathetically. “Sorry.”

Both their eyes go wide at the same time before—

Everything stops.

Day 9

Dick wakes up.

He knows what’s gonna happen, but feels the need to check anyway:

Sunday. 08:04.

Great.

Well. He’s still chasing this Bruce angle, so he needs to up back to the manor for take 3 there. One more round of loops, and I’ll hit double digits. He thinks.

The straightforward approach didn’t work. Telling him the situation didn’t work. So he’s going to need to be more subtle with it, try to manipulate the situation into getting an apology.

Dick shakes his head. How is he going to do that, when Bruce has never apologized to him for anything big that he’d done?

Well. He doesn’t have a choice, does he? If this fails, maybe he’ll make a PowerPoint presentation of all the relevant points, and maybe Bruce will be convinced enough to apologize…

He’s getting ahead of himself. He should just try this round and see…

He grabs his phone, dials Tim.

“Hey!” Tim picks up. “I was literally just about to call you.”

“Oh, great,” Dick says, grabbing his shirt. “What a cool coincidence. I just wanted to check with you if Bruce is around, I wanted to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Mind if I pick your brain before you go in?”

“Sure,” Dick says. He doesn’t want to alert Tim’s suspicions. “I’m on my way.”

-

Dick stops right outside the Cave, indecision burning away at him.

He needs a battle plan. If he doesn’t go in fully prepared, Bruce is gonna pry him apart in seconds.

Okay, He thinks to himself. Be friendly. Be open. Be helpful. And then…pick a fight. But don’t yell. Act hurt. And see

Oh, this is gonna go great.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he saunters into the cave, tapping at the wall twice. “Hey, Bruce,” He greets. “What’s up?”

Bruce is sitting at the computer, staring at bits of data that only make sense to him. “Dick,” He acknowledges, without turning around. “Working on this. You been hearing about what’s going on in New York?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. He approaches the screen, actually looking at the information this time. “Why? Think it’s something we should look at?”

He tries to include himself in the discussion, signaling to Bruce that he’s here to help.

It works. “Maybe,” Bruce thinks. This time, he gestures to Dick to come forward. “If you look here,” He points. “The origin of these beings seems…oddly familiar.”

Dick nods, barely processing the information. He keeps looking for a way in, a way to fall into an argument. “Sure,” He says. How is he going to do this? How is he ever going to get Bruce to say sorry? “You think it’s…uh….”

The words get stuck in his throat.

Bruce looks at him. “Dick?” He asks.

His voice sounds so genuine in that moment that Dick almost can’t handle it. “I’m good,” He says. His voice cracks. “Yeah, I’m good. Just…uh. I’m good.”

Oh boy. This is going great.

Shut up. He tells himself. Pull yourself together.

He looks down at his hands. They’re shaking.

He feels himself being pushed into a chair. “Dick?” A pair of hands grabs his face, lifts it up. He sees Bruce peering into his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Dick chuckles between breaths. “Nothing,” He says, trying to get himself back under control. “I’m good.”

“Clearly not,” Bruce eyes him. “Hold on. I’m going to do an assessment.” He pats Dick’s shoulder. “Stay calm.”

“I am,” Dick insists. He’s mostly embarrassed, really. His hands are still shaking.

In no time at all, he feels his head being yanked back over the top of the chair. A bright light is shined in his eyes.

He hisses, the sudden change in position confusing him. Pain radiates through his neck. “Sorry,” Bruce says, offhandedly, peering into his face. “Need to do this. You don’t look like you have a head injury…”

But Dick…

Dick has…

Sorry…

The word echoes in his head. Did he just…

He gets a feeling like a bucket of ice water has been thrown on him. Everything around him comes into focus with a scary amount of clarity.

Bruce clearly feels a difference, because he pauses. “Dick?” He asks again.

Dick blinks. Once. Twice. “I’m okay,” He gasps. He thinks he means it this time. “I’m okay.”

-

Bruce had been reluctant to send him home after that.

Dick doesn’t blame him. He’d completely fallen apart right then and there and probably scared the shit out of him, so.

And, well. His panic had been clear in the fact that. That he’d apologized. And…and it may have broken the curse? He thinks? He’s no expert, but there’s only one way to find out, really.

So, Bruce’s absolute insistence that he stay the night didn’t push his buttons the way it usually would. Instead, he gives in to the pushing. He’s too tired not to.

Plus, once Bruce got Alfred involved…there was no way he was gonna get away after that.

That’s why Dick finds himself in his childhood bedroom hours later, staring at the stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars and moons on the ceiling.

Satisfaction in validation. He thinks, then. Suck it.

He should probably go back to the warehouse anyway. Can’t have the dude going ahead cursing other people willy-nilly. Next time, he’ll bring Zatanna.

Bruce apologized. He thinks. It still blows him away. He actually apologized.

Not for anything major, either. Just…just in the moment, not even thinking about it. The words slipped out, just like that. Like he did it all the time.

Dick thinks he should be feeling some type of way about that. That it should resolve at something inside of him, at the thing that’s been there ever since he was seventeen years old.

May you never find satisfaction in validation..

He shakes it off. Maybe he would feel differently if it was a bigger apology. Or maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Either way. He’s pretty sure that the curse has lifted, but he’s not gonna count it a done deal until he hits the next day without incident.

May you never find satisfaction in validation…

Dick keeps an eye out on his phone, trying his best to stay awake.

The time ticks down…

12:00.

He draws a breath, then another. He waits.

Monday. 12:01.

He drops his phone on the bed, breathing deeply. I did it. He thinks. I did it.

May you never find satisfaction in validation

He swallows all the feelings still simmering below the surface, then drops off to sleep.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Safest Place is With an Angel

Requested Here!

Pairing: bodyguard!Deacon Kay x fem!singer!reader

Summary: The bodyguard you never wanted quickly gives a new meaning to the City of Angels. After he saves you and helps you sing again, all of your fears disappear in his safety.

Warnings: quick seduction joke (clean as always, guaranteed), angst, fights, brief depiction of injuries, threats, (poorly) attempted abduction, banter, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

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“Buck!” Hondo yells from the ring. “Good to see you man!”

“Hey, old timer,” Luca adds. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good,” Buck answers, looking around. “Where’s Deacon?”

“Choosing favorites again?” Street inquires.

“Something like that,” Buck replies. “Where is he?”

“Locker room,” Street says.

Buck nods once in thanks then walks away to find Deacon. The rest of 20 David Squad watches him go, then quietly debates why he needs to see Deacon. They quickly decide that it’s either a security business thing or an intervention, which they are offended to be excluded from.

“Sergeant Kay,” Buck greets as he enters the locker room.

“Buck Spivey,” Deacon answers with a smile. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“No- well, not exactly. We had a potential client drop by unexpectedly. He’s looking for an executive protection agent for-“

“A bodyguard?” Deacon clarifies.

“Yes, Deacon, a bodyguard. He’s a music producer and one of his new artists is coming out to LA for a few days to record an EP - whatever that is. She needs protection, and, we’ll just say he liked the appeal of an active-duty police officer on our staff.”

“And you want me to take time off of SWAT to be a bodyguard for a few days?”

“For $50,000, yes.”

Deacon’s eyes widen when he hears the amount. He won’t see all of that, obviously, but it would more than cover his time off work.

“Buck, tell me straight, why me? None of the ‘he’s a cop’ stuff,” Deacon requests.

“She’s a singer, Deac. Not all of our men can be trusted one-on-one with a woman like that.”

“You’re picking me because I’m older and less likely to seduce her?”

“Or be seduced,” Buck adds, playfully agreeing.

“Fine, yeah,” Deacon agrees with a smile. “Let me run it past Hicks.”

“I already did that.”

“Buck,” Deacon sighs.

“I know you, Deac, so I just got a head start for you. You’re welcome. See you in the office!”

“Thanks, Buck.”

After Buck leaves, Deacon sits on the bench in the locker room. Fifty grand, he thinks, she must be a good singer.

“What was that about?” Street asks as he barges into the locker room.

“I’m taking a few days off to do an assignment from Buck,” Deacon answers.

“It wasn’t an intervention?” Luca inquires.

“For what?” Deacon questions.

“What’s the assignment? Private security instead of public?” Hondo jokes.

“Executive protection,” Deacon says.

“You’re a bodyguard?” Street exclaims. “That’s awesome!”

“For whom?” Hondo asks.

“I can’t answer that.”

“I knew we needed an intervention,” Luca sighs.

“Good morning. I’m Buck Spivey, and this is David Kay, your personal executive protection agent during your time in Los Angeles,” Buck presents. He turns to Deacon to introduce you as well.

As you shake hands with the man who insists you call him Deacon, you wish you were going to be in LA for longer. He’s incredibly handsome, and you could practically fall into his deep brown eyes. He’s the kind of guy you write songs about, not hide behind.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling as you reclaim your hand from Deacon’s warm one.

“You, too.”

“I’m going to go over everything with Mr. Spivey, but Deacon has your schedule. I’ll see you at the studio, listen, not a moment before you’re scheduled,” your producer, Alex, says. “Thanks again, gentlemen.”

Deacon smiles and nods at Alex as he follows Buck out. You watch them leave, then drop your shoulders and shake your head.

“This probably isn’t your ideal job,” you begin, “but thank you, seriously.”

“Of course. Your schedule for today is pretty open, so where to first?”

“That’s the other thing. I know that Alex hired you to stay with me every waking moment, but no one knows who I am, so feel free to come and go as you want. You’ll still get paid the same.”

Deacon’s brows furrow as you speak. Buck made it seem like you were a big deal and the album you came to record was already getting massive attention. Your willingness to go out alone into, in Deacon’s opinion, one of the most dangerous cities in the US is unexpected.

“Look, it’s my job, and I do enjoy it, so I’m going to go where you go,” Deacon explains.

“Is that necessary?”

“It is. Not just because your producer paid for it, but because your safety is my top priority this week.”

“Fine,” you agree. “I wanted to go sightseeing today, but I have no idea where to start.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have a bodyguard who knows every inch of this city,” Deacon replies. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” you mumble as you follow him. “Great.”

Standing on an overlook off Mulholland Drive, you feel invisible and weightless. It’s the best you’ve felt in months. You close your eyes before you take in the view again. Standing behind you, Deacon surveys the area for potential threats, but his eyes keep returning to you. Something is going on, more than you simply not wanting a bodyguard.

“You were right,” you cheer as you return to him. “It’s way prettier up here. Where are you taking me next?”

“Um, look,” Deacon begins. “I know I’m only here for you in a professional capacity, but if you need anything, I’m here for you.”

Your phone buzzes before you can reply to Deacon’s offer. It’s probably for the best because you don’t want to acknowledge that there is more going on than what you let him see. The message from Alex is short, but you groan regardless. Deacon receives a text, too, and you know lying to him is not an option.

“There’s an event for songwriters at the Walt Disney Concert Hall tonight,” you tell him. “Alex wants me to go.”

“You don’t want to?” Deacon reads into your phrasing.

“It’s not that, just… I thought I’d get a break and get to do what I want instead of what Alex thinks I need to do. He’s a great producer and he’s one of the nicest guys in the business, but I think he forgets that we’re human too sometimes.”

“Then don’t go.”

You laugh and reply, “Yeah, that would go well. It’s fine. I need to go back to my hotel and get ready.”

Deacon waits a moment before he nods and gestures for you to walk before him. Most other men would make you feel uncomfortable, out of sight at your back, but you feel safer than ever with Deacon Kay with you.

Deacon raises his hand before your waist as you enter the hotel lobby. You bump into him as you stop, and he looks around before he murmurs for you to go.

“You seem on edge,” you muse as you board the elevator.

Deacon shakes his head and apologizes to someone else trying to get on. When the door closes on just the two of you, he sighs.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m a cop, a SWAT officer, and I guess maybe that gives me a sixth sense,” he says.

“And?” you press.

“Something feels off.”

“It’s probably just the schedule change.”

Deacon glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re different, another in a series of sudden shifts has altered your behavior. At the office, you didn’t want Deacon to come with you, then you were open to sightseeing with him, and now you seem annoyed by his presence again.

“Wait,” he instructs as the elevator door opens.

He looks up and down the hallway, then holds the door for you to exit. When you reach your room door, he takes your key from your hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask shortly.

“I need to clear the room,” Deacon answers simply.

“Deacon, there’s no one in my hotel room. I think you’re overthinking the ‘bodyguard’ thing. You don’t have to go everywhere with me!”

“I’m not letting you walk into a room when I don’t know what’s waiting behind the door,” he argues.

“It’s a locked hotel room! Do you need to sit beside the tub while I shower, too?”

“Just let me go in, make sure it’s safe, and then I’ll come back out.”

You reluctantly hand the keycard to Deacon, and your body language is enough to tell him you are not pleased with this arrangement. When you cross your arms tightly and straighten your shoulders, Deacon assumes that you’re not worried about having left clothes on the bed or anything, but a deeper problem with having him so close.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises.

You blow a breath out of your nose in response, and Deacon reminds himself not to look at your face for too long. Buck had said you were pretty, but that did no justice to your beauty. Even when you’re annoyed by him, Deacon can’t help but be enraptured by every piece of you.

He slides the card into the door handle and then pushes the door open carefully. As it closes behind him, you drop your arms and lean against the hallway wall. A sudden noise makes you stand up straight again, and the following crash sends your heart to your stomach.

“Deacon!” you yell as you bang the side of your fist against the door.

Something breaks inside and the shattering echoes down the hall. With each sound, you become more desperate to get inside and ensure Deacon is okay. You have nothing against him, in fact, you’re actively trying not to write a song about him. He has to be okay.

“Deacon!” you yell again as someone grunts.

“Move!” Deacon demands.

You assume he’s talking to the person inside, but you step out of the doorway, regardless. The door opens quickly and as someone is shoved out harshly, you’re pulled inside. Deacon pushes you toward the bed as he locks the door and secures the deadbolt. He doesn’t look toward you as he pulls his phone from his pocket and begins typing quickly.

“Deacon,” you whisper as you stand. He doesn’t answer, and you continue walking to him. When you’re directly before him, you push his phone down and look at his face.

“I need to tell Alex,” he chides.

“You’re hurt.”

Deacon freezes when your fingers brush his jawline. Slowly, he drags his eyes from his phone to your face. The concern is evident in your eyes, and as they grow wet, Deacon can’t decide whether to push you away and keep working or wipe your tears away with kisses. He startles slightly at the idea; it’s completely unprofessional, but now that he’s thought of kissing you, he can’t stop.

“Uh, can you…” You exhale to keep yourself from rambling before you ask, “Can you sit down? Please.”

Deacon nods and moves to the foot of the bed. He presses send on the message to Buck, then sets his phone aside and waits for you. You return quickly with a wet cloth and a small first aid kit.

“I never travel without one,” you explain when you see Deacon’s eyes on it.

You press the cloth to his face, and Deacon doesn’t flinch. You're gentle and slow, but even if you weren’t, Deacon doesn’t think he could focus on anything other than you right now.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, pulling him from his admiration of you.

“What?”

“Why did you do that? You could have gotten killed!”

You turn to get a bandage, and your breathing changes suddenly.

“I helped you!” Deacon defends. When your face is squared with his again, his voice drops. “Whoa, are you… you’re crying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening in here. Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Deacon offers this time. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You purse your lips as you place a flimsy blue bandage on Deacon’s hand. He knows it won’t stay on his knuckles, but he’ll stop moving if it will help you feel better and keep you beside him longer.

“I know it’s your job, but I’ve never had anyone protect me like that before, so, thanks,” you add.

“It is my job, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for upsetting you. Like I said before, I’m here for anything you need.”

“You’ll be with me all night?” you clarify.

“As close as you want me.”

Deacon changed into a suit after he saw the dress you prepared to wear to the concert hall. He may be there for you and you alone, but that doesn’t mean he has to look like a bodyguard. You certainly didn’t argue once you saw how the well-tailored jacket fit across his muscular back and the deep blue drew even more attention to his eyes.

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I know I’ve been pushing you away all day, but it wasn’t because of you, Deacon.”

“We don’t have to do this right now. I get it,” Deacon says.

“Maybe you are the break I was looking for,” you say softly, more to yourself than Deacon.

“Take it slow,” he encourages. “We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, but your eyes are constantly moving. You’re still unsettled after the run-in at the hotel, but there’s nothing more Deacon can do. Not in the public eye, at least. His words will have to get you through for now.

“There she is!” Alex cheers when he sees you.

The woman on his arm scoffs and mumbles, “Not much to her, is there?”

“What’s your number one?” another guest asks.

“Oh, I haven’t released any original songs yet,” you answer softly. “I’ve been writing and I’m here to record-“

“Alex,” the woman on his arm drawls. “You rejected my proposed artist for a no name? What drew you in, her pretty face?”

“Her songs,” Alex answers firmly. He may not give you the freedom you desire, but he also knows your worth and refuses to let anyone talk down to you. “Your proposed artist sounded like an Adele wannabe who got her finger pinched in the mic stand.”

Deacon stifles a laugh behind you, but you’re only growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Maybe I should just go,” you tell Alex.

“I agree,” another woman calls.

“Absolutely not,” Alex answers, freeing himself from the women around him. “You’re here as a songwriter. Let’s get away from these people living vicariously through their stars.”

Alex leads you further into the venue, but you watch over your shoulder to ensure Deacon is still with you. He nods in reassurance as he follows, his eyes on the move to spot anything before it can become another threat.

“Buck told me about the incident in the hotel,” Alex says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answer.

“What incident?” Serena, one of Alex’s other artists, asks. “Babe, are you alright?”

“Just shaken up,” you admit.

You look back at Deacon again, but his attention is on the stage.

“Wait, so what happened?” Serena whispers to you.

“There was a guy in my hotel room. Deacon took care of it.”

“Deacon? You mean that jaw-droppingly gorgeous man who hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in? Babe, you’re on a first-name basis with your bodyguard.”

“Watching me is his job,” you deflect.

“Serena, sorry to interrupt,” Alex says. “There’s someone here who’d like to meet you.”

“Tell me everything later,” she whispers as she’s pulled away.

Alone again, you take a deep breath and rest your hands on the back of your chair. Deacon steps closer to the table before he pauses.

“Please,” you say.

He closes the distance and stands beside you, close enough to touch if you were as open with physically showing your feelings as you are bearing them for all to hear in song lyrics.

“Excuse me, my name is Rydell. I’m Alex’s biggest competitor,” a man introduces before he laughs. It sounds forced, and you find yourself stepping closer to Deacon. “You must be Alex’s newest client, the one he was so excited to show off.”

Deacon moves his arm so he can feel you behind him as he replies, “Actually, I’m-“

“No, no, please don’t try to undersell yourself. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ve got a private suite back at the Ritz. We’ll head there, order some champagne, and maybe you could give me a private performance of your new songs.”

“Sir,” Deacon begins again.

“Oh, and Alex doesn’t need to know a thing about it. I’ll have you back by morning.”

Deacon’s brows raise as he asks, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Deacon,” you murmur.

“Rydell, is it? I have to applaud your effort, however sleazy it may be, but you picked the wrong target. I’m not the singer you’re after, I’m her bodyguard.”

Your heart races when Deacon refers to himself as yours. When the man blubbers as he tries to find an acceptable answer about why he wanted to take you away from everyone, you are harshly returned to reality.

“Get out,” Deacon demands.

Rydell nods and scurries away. Your eyes remain on Deacon and the dark look in his eyes that matches his clenched jaw.

“Was he trying to kidnap me?” you ask.

“I can’t be sure,” Deacon answers carefully.

“But you think he was.”

Deacon turns when he hears the strain in your voice.

“I should just go home. Singing has always been my dream but between the guy at the hotel and him hurting you, then this, I can’t-“

Deacon silently takes your hand, and your sentence ends abruptly. He strokes his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you away from all the people. After he finds a quiet, dimmed hallway, he stops and turns toward you, keeping your hand safely in his.

“Take a few deep breaths,” he instructs. “I’ve got you.”

“How am I supposed to keep doing this? I haven’t even released anything and already people are doing crazy things,” you express.

“Well, the women at the door felt threatened. Rydell was misinformed about how strong and independent you are, and the man at the hotel was just an idiot trying to do something stupid.”

“But what happens when there’s more of them?” you whisper. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. You can,” he repeats. “I’m right here to keep you safe.”

“And when you’re not?”

Deacon nods; he understands what uncertainty and fear are like. There’s no easy way to answer your question, but he can help you feel safe for the rest of the night and the remainder of your time in Los Angeles. No matter what it takes.

Standing in the recording booth, you freeze behind the microphone. Singing is an emotional experience, an outlet; right now, you only feel nervous and uncertain. Your future relies on this album; if this is the future, you aren’t sure you want it.

“Let me go in,” someone says faintly through the speaker above you.

Several people are waiting in the sound booth beside you. Alex, the audio tech, Deacon, and two of your best friends and fellow singers. You’ve forgotten about them easily, so you know this isn’t stage fright.

Someone knocks on the door, and you look up from your lyrics as Deacon steps inside.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

You look toward the one-way glass, worried about expressing something you shouldn’t in front of your friends and colleagues.

“They’re gone,” Deacon assures. “I asked for some privacy, thought you could use it.”

“Thank you,” you reply. “I just- everything is a mess, and I don’t know where to start.”

“I heard the music while the tech guy was setting everything up. It’s really good.”

“I appreciate that. Lyrics come pretty easily, but finding the music to express the same stuff as the words is harder.”

“Yet the best artists make it look easy. Like you.”

You suddenly remember something. While you showered this morning, you asked Deacon to sit in your hotel room. Through the thin walls of the bathroom, you heard him humming. Deacon can sing.

“Would you… Will you sing with me? Just to help me get started, I mean,” you ask softly.

Deacon smiles as he happily says, “Of course.”

You step to the side so Deacon can stand beside you and see the sheet music with the lyrics printed on it. It’s not your preferred method of recording, but right now, you’re glad to have it. After you press play on the computer beside you, music fills the room, and you and Deacon begin singing together. He’s better than you anticipated after hearing his humming, and he smiles brightly during your performance of the bridge. You fail to remember what life was like without Deacon. Not that you’d want to.

The music fades and you throw your arms around Deacon’s neck to hug him tightly. He chuckles as he returns the hug, his arms tight around your waist as he tucks his chin against your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” he applauds.

“Me? I should sign my record deal over to you!” you argue. “You sound like an angel! You are an angel, aren't you, Deacon?”

“Please don’t trade yourself in without my permission,” Alex says through the mic system.

“Alex,” Deacon groans.

“You asked for two minutes, Sergeant. I gave you two minutes. Besides, if I hadn’t come back, we wouldn’t have that performance recorded.”

“I think I’m ready,” you interrupt. “But can I do track 8 next?”

“Anything you want,” Alex answers. “And thanks again, Deacon.”

“For what?” you ask, speaking to Deacon rather than Alex.

“His contract is over. He didn’t have to come with you today,” Alex says.

“Why?” you ask Deacon.

He steps away from the microphone and brushes his fingers along your arm as he whispers, “I didn’t want to walk away yet.”

You lift your eyes to Deacon’s and smile in the proximity. He taps a knuckle against your hip, and you glance down as he makes a phone signal with his hands.

“I do have to get to work,” he says. “But I’ll be watching for that album.”

“Thank you, Deacon, for everything.”

Deacon winks before he exits the studio. You breathe out through your newfound permanent smile and flip to a page of scribbles.

“Does he know?” Alex asks. “That the album only had seven songs before you met him?”

“I think he will,” you answer. “Let’s go.”

“Oh my gosh!” Chris yells. “Am I fangirling? Is this what it feels like?��

“What are you talking about?” Luca inquires.

She points excitedly and explains, “She has the best cover of my favorite song I’ve ever heard. Why do you think she’s here? Would it be wrong to ask for an autograph?”

“Just ask Deac,” Street says from inside the situation room.

Chris, Luca, and Hondo turn to face him, and he sighs as if being the smartest guy in the room is exhausting him daily.

“Ask Deac what?” Chris asks.

“To introduce you. He’s been listening to her music nonstop.”

“He listens to covers?”

“When he’s in love with the girl that sings them, yeah. Am I the only one who pays any attention around here?”

“Easy,” Hondo warns. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Connect the dots, Hondo. He leaves to be a bodyguard, and comes back all soft and sappy, listening to cover songs every minute he can. She was the body to be guarded, and David Kay liked what he saw.”

“What did I see to like?” Deacon asks as he enters.

Chris wordlessly points to you, and Deacon’s eyes light up as he rushes through the situation room to reach you.

“Well, Street was right,” Hondo muses. “For once.”

“Whatever, old man,” Street grumbles.

“You’re here!” Deacon calls. “Why are you here?”

You smile as you reach up and hug him. “I, um, I couldn’t leave.”

“But I thought-“

“That I had excessive doubts about staying in LA and being a singer?” you finish for him. “I did. But then this great, really attractive bodyguard held my hand and told me everything would be okay.”

“And you believed him?”

“If you could see his eyes, you’d understand that I had no other choice but to fall for him.”

“Oh,” Deacon replies. “So…”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you and Deacon ask simultaneously.

“I think that translates to yes, from both parties,” Street says as he walks by with a tablet.

“Who is that?” you ask Deacon.

“A fan in the making,” he answers. “Speaking of which, my teammate Chris wants an autograph. Are you sure LA is the right choice?”

“There’s only a few months until the album releases, so the back and forth wasn’t worth it. Plus, that bodyguard I mentioned kinda lives here.”

“Well then,” Deacon murmurs, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest. “Let’s make sure LA’s prettiest, best-voiced resident feels safe.”

“I’m not trained to do that for you,” you joke.

“Just keep that cute little band-aid kit around and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Don’t get hurt for me again,” you warn. “Because I can’t-“

Deacon cuts you off with a kiss, and you melt against him as your fingers brush across his jawline.

“You can’t what?” Deacon asks against your lips.

“Just kiss me,” you answer, though your voice is muffled against him. “I’m safe right here.”

“Deacon!” Chris yells when you pull back. “Did you ask about the autograph?”