#I feel like I could watch like three more seasons of this

[writerinlearning]

𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

plot: henry hart has a crush on his best friend and doesn’t know what to do with his feelings. an unfortunate mishap and a little nudge from team danger might just change that.

pairing: henry hart x fem!reader

show: henry danger

warnings: none that i can think of.

word count: 7,2k

author’s notes: english isn’t my first language, apologies for any mistakes. it's been proof-read, so there shouldn't be many mistakes anyway. it’s heavily inspired by the episode cave the date from season five of henry danger, so most of the dialogues and the story is most likely to be very familiar to y’all. it does go canon-divergent by the end though, and of course it’s reader instead of charlotte. this ended up being longer than i thought it would be. i hope you enjoy!

henry hart masterlist | main masterlist

It’s the perfect day, a quiet one the Danger team hasn’t had in a long time. Between all the petty crimes and the more serious villains who wanted to end Captain Man and Kid Danger, Y/N doesn’t remember the last time they could all just hang out in the Man Cave, undisturbed. She sighs contentedly, flipping a page of the book she’s reading, leaning further into the couch. Schwoz sits next to her, concentrating over a game of chess he’s having against himself, for some reason. Charlotte is nearby too, sitting on the chair at the supercomputer and reading her own book about “nuclear physics for smarties”.

“I will not see that coming.” Schwoz mutters to himself through the silence in the room. “I did not see that coming!” He adds, spitting out the water in his mouth after turning the chess board around.

“Do you ever get bored of playing chess against yourself?” Charlotte asks him, placing her book on the console before her.

“No, I don’t.” A pause. “But sometimes, I do.”

Y/N snorts at Schwoz’s antics. Her text ringtone rips through the silence, followed by a groan rumbling from her chest. She checks her screen, rolling her eyes when she sees the text notification from Jasper, and she looks at Charlotte with brows furrowed in annoyance as she closes her book and puts it down on the table before her.

“The guys are coming back.”

“Give me your book.” Charlotte tells her, extending her hand out.

“Why?” Y/N asks her, raising a brow. “I haven’t finished reading it, and I need to know what happens between Sel and Bree.”

“Just– give me your book.”

“H– hey! hey! hey! Char! Why’d you do that?”

Y/N screams, watching in horror as Charlotte moves from her spot on the chair to grab Y/N’s beloved copy of Legendborn by Tracy Deonn, putting it into a shredding machine and destroying it in the process. Charlotte then does the same thing with her own book.

“Ray gets mad whenever people do ‘smart stuff’ in front of him.” Charlotte explains, putting her hands on her hips. “You should know that, Y/N, you’ve been here the last two years. Schwoz, give me the chess board.”

“But I’ve got myself right where I want me!” The science man protests.

“You’ll get yourself next time.”

Schwoz grumbles, reluctantly handing his chess board and chess pieces to Charlotte who proceeds to throw them into the shredding machine. It makes a strange noise and Y/N winces at the sound, closing her eyes when the grinding noise finally stops.

“Where were they anyway?” Charlotte asks, sitting back on the chair behind the supercomputer.

“They went to throw melons at that abandoned house that people throw melons at.” Y/N shrugs.

“Without me?” Schwoz chirps in. “But I’ve been saving melons for months.” He adds as he glances to his box of rotten melons that’s been laying next to the supercomputer for nearly two months.

“So, they should be back soon, right?” Charlotte wonders.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods. “I just asked them to swing by my house and pick up my phone charger on the way back.”

Schwoz snorts. “You sent Ray, Henry, and Jasper to your house with no adult supervision?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem?”

Just then, the elevator doors ding open and out step the three men they were just talking about, in what seems to be a really serious discussion about Disney movies. All three of them have dishevelled hair, as if they’d just run a marathon, but the ashes smeared across their face and stuck to their clothes and hair give way to an entirely different story.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Y/N interrupts them, standing up from the couch as she takes in their appearance.

“Hey.” Jasper greets her. “What’s up?”

“What have you guys been doing?”

“Hmm?” Henry chimes in.

“What have you guys been doing?” Y/N repeats herself, hands going to her hips as she raises a brow. “Did you go to my house?”

“Sure did.” Henry replies.

“Oh yeah.” Ray continues.

“Walked right in.” Jasper finishes, smiling proudly.

Y/N looks over her shoulder to Charlotte, brows pulled together in a confused frown. They both have the same questions running through their mind. Why were the boys all dirty with dark ashes, and why were they acting so innocent all of the sudden. Innocent, and clueless.

“So… what happened?” Charlotte asks then, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Weee got Y/N’s phone charger.”

Henry trails out, throwing the phone cable in Y/N’s hands but she drops it almost immediately, squealing out in surprise.

“Aaahh! Why is it hot?!”

“Because we pulled it out of the fire.” Jasper answers her.

“You are welcome.” Ray adds. “Hit the showers.” He finishes, out of the blue.

The boys whoop, starting to head for the showers when Y/N stops them again. Charlotte and Schwoz watch in amusement, seeing them rolling their eyes and groaning under their breath.

“Whaaaaaaat?!” Henry drags out.

“I told you she’d be like this.” Ray whines, motioning towards Y/N. “What did I say?”

“Yeah, I owe you ten bucks.” Jasper says, defeated.

“Did you guys light my house on fire?!” Y/N questions, panic in her voice.

“No, no, no, no…” Henry stutters. “ ‘Course not.”

Y/N glares at him, her eyes growing darker than he’s ever seen before. Okay, maybe Henry had underestimated his best friend’s anger, but to be fair, it wasn’t his fault they’d set a fire in her house. Still, he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his pants, casting his gaze to the floor to avoid looking directly into her eyes. He begins to balance himself on his heels, racking his brain for the right words to say as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. He inhales slowly through his nose and finally, he looks up to her. He sees the expectation in her eyes, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer. Henry swallows the growing lump in his throat; he hates to see her mad at him, when he knows she rarely ever gets mad at anyone. He knows her anger is not only directed at him, but at Ray and Jasper too, and yet he still takes it personally. He doesn’t know why he does, but his chest tightens when he replays the events from earlier, and the guilt settles in the back of his brain. He lowers his gaze again, his feet suddenly becoming more interesting than anything.

“I– I mean… y– yeah.” Henry admits, stuttering.

“Just the kitchen.” Jasper clarifies.

“The kitchen is part of the house.” Y/N deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The kitchen’s gone. It’s gone.” Jasper blurts out. 

“The rest of your house… totally fine.” Ray adds, clapping his hands together.

“Y– yeah.” Henry finishes.

“How could you guys light my kitchen on fire?!”

Y/N asks them, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation before her eyes fall back to the three men, glaring at them. By then, Charlotte has joined Schwoz on the couch in the centre of the Man Cave, as if they were watching the most interesting movie ever made. Charlotte knows her friend, and judging by how fuming she is about the whole situation, she knows it won’t end well for the boys. 

Henry still can’t bring himself to look at Y/N, but he can imagine the hurt and confusion written all over her face. He’s known her for as long as he’s known Charlotte and Jasper; it’s always been the four of them. They can read each other like open books. 

Jasper flinches when Y/N raises her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her raise her voice before, she’s usually calm and composed. He glances at Henry, and when he sees that his friend has suddenly found an interest in his shoes, Jasper knows they messed up big time. 

Ray frowns when he sees Y/N crossing her arms over her chest again. Her cold stare travels from Henry, to Jasper, to him, and by the way she holds her head high, lips flattened into a thin line, he can sense the anger radiating off of her. What Ray doesn’t understand is why.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Schwoz chuckles as he gets up. “Let me get some popcorn.”

He returns a minute later with a red bowl filled to the brim with popcorn, setting the food on the table as he sits back on the couch next to Charlotte. Both watch, shoving food in their mouths, as Y/N shifts on her feets, body tense.

“What. Happened?” Y/N asks again, gritting through her teeth.

“Okay, first of all,” Ray begins, holding his hands out in front of him as he takes a step towards the girl. “We couldn’t find a light switch anywhere.”

“It– it was very dark.” Henry chirps in, barely glancing up at her as he tries to justify their actions. “And kinda cold.” His voice falters as he looks back to the floor.

“I happened to have a flare on me.” Ray adds, as if there were nothing wrong with that.

“Which would solve both problems.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Jasper’s comment, her nostrils flaring as she grows impatient. Without even realizing it, she begins to tap her foot against the tiled floor of the Man Cave, her cold stare directed towards Ray. 

“So, I had a flare… in your kitchen.” Ray begins to explain again, somehow proud of himself.

“And then, we started exploring!” Jasper smiles.

“First thing we uh… found were the curtains.” Henry adds sheepishly. “Well… the flare found ‘em.”

Henry tentatively looks up to his friend, a sheepish smile across his face. It falters when he sees the hurt flashing in her eyes for a brief second. He hates to see her like this, and he never wants to see her like this again. He has to admit it, lighting up a flare in her kitchen had been a bad idea, and he doesn’t know why he and Jasper didn’t try to stop Ray from doing something this stupid. They should be used to it by now; Henry has been dealing with his boss’s antics for the last five years, so has Charlotte, and both Jasper and Y/N have been dealing with it for the last two years. Ray, more often than not, acts without thinking twice about his actions, and perhaps that is because he’s been indestructible since he was eight years old, but he often forgets that the teenagers, and Schwoz, are not him and that they aren’t indestructible. His impulsive actions often bring them into trouble, and Henry has always wondered how they haven’t been badly injured by now, or sent to the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. Lighting up a flare in Y/N’s kitchen should have been an idea that stayed in Ray’s childish brain.

“Those things went up fast.” Ray laughs as Jasper imitates a fire starting.

“Did you guys try to put it out?!” Y/N asks, exasperated.

“Yes! Of course we did.” Jasper tells her.

“But uhm, you know the saying “fight fire with fire”?” Henry asks tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, that does not work!” Ray snorts.

“Oh my god!”

Y/N groans as she lets her arms fall to her sides, turning on her heels and heading for the elevator. She pounds her fist against the button, letting out a frustrated yell when the elevator doesn’t come right away. Jasper tries to reach for her, but she whips her head over her shoulder, sending him a stare that could have put him to his grave if her eyes held daggers. Jasper raises his hands up in defence, taking a step back to stand in between Ray and Henry. 

“Where are you going?” Henry asks his best friend, voice filled with guilt.

“None of your business.” Y/N grits through her clenched teeth.

She doesn’t mean to speak to Henry that way, but she’s beyond mad that they burned their kitchen, and what pisses her off most is that they don’t even seem to be aware of how bad they messed up.

“Wh– whoa there, Y/N.” Ray exclaims, raising his arms up in defense.

“Yeah, what’s your deal?” Jasper scoffs, nudging Henry.

“My deal–” Y/N speaks through gritted teeth. “–is that I have a date tonight, with Jack Swagger. And I was gonna make him dinner at my house, but you guys blew my kitchen!”

Y/N yells exasperatedly, turning her head back towards the elevator and using one hand to push the up button on the panel on her right. 

Charlotte stands from where she sat on the couch, walking over to the boys. She’s the only one who knows of Y/N’s date night with Jack Swagger, and she’s also the only one who knows Jack Swagger out of his international fame. The two girls had met him at camp, ten years earlier, and he contacted Y/N to let her know he was coming to Swellview for a couple days, and that he wanted to hang out with her. Charlotte also knows the real reason why Y/N had agreed to go on a date with Jack, and it wasn’t because she used to have a crush on him when they’d first met. 

“Wait.” Jasper’s voice cuts through Charlotte’s train of thoughts. “You know Jack Swagger?” He asks, taking a step toward Y/N. “International music superstar Jack Swagger?”

“Youngest person to win a Grammy Jack Swagger?” Schwoz questions, rushing to Y/N.

“You have a date?” 

Henry asks Y/N, a little surprised that his best friend has a date with someone and that she didn’t tell him about it.  

“Yeah, I had a date.” She answers him, coldly.

“With Jack Swagger?” He asks again.

“Yes, with Jack Swagger. Can we not do this? I have to go and see the mess you guys made in my house. See if I can fix anything, or if I have to cancel my date tonight.”

Y/N pounds her fist on the elevator button again, but her movement is less angry and more frustrated. In truth, even if she originally did not want to go on a date with Jack Swagger, she’d warmed up to the idea and she was really looking forward to it. Besides, she’d figured it would help her forget about a certain someone that’s been on her mind twenty-four-seven. 

When the elevator comes to a stop and the doors ding open, Y/N steps inside, pressing the up button without looking at it, and she keeps her death stare on the three men as the doors close again. 

Henry watches as she disappears behind the now-closed elevator doors, but he knows she hasn’t gone up just yet, or they would have heard the loud squeaking noise from the elevator’s mechanical whirring. Perhaps she’s calling Jack Swagger; he did see her reach for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. For some reason, however, knowing about the possibility of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack makes Henry feel less guilty about his responsibility for being part of the reason why Y/N’s kitchen burned. He knows he shouldn’t feel happy about it, but he does. 

“How does she know Jack Swagger?” Jasper asks, turning towards Charlotte when the elevator doors close.

“Me and Y/N went to camp with him, like ten years ago. He was Jack Swaggowitz back then.”

“Okayyy… How did we not know this until now?”

“We’ve told you like a million times! You guys just never listen to us.”

“Okay, fine! Fine!” Jasper raises his hands up in defeat. “So, why can’t they go to Sotto Voce? Or any other restaurant in Swellview?”

“Yeah! Sotto Voce is a nice place.” Ray chimes into the conversation in agreement, snapping his fingers. “Romantic, and kitchen not burned.”

“That you know of.” Jasper nudges him.

“That I know of.”

“They tried that.” Charlotte explains, sighing. “He’s too famous and gets mobbed wherever he goes.”

That catches Henry’s attention, and he raises a brow as he turns towards Charlotte. What does she mean by “they tried that”? Did Y/N have other dates with Jack Swagger, and she only told Charlotte about it? Why is it bothering him so much that Y/N goes on dates with other boys? She is only his best friend, he has no right to decide who she can date. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as his friends’ voices come back into focus.

“I got it!” Jasper exclaims, snapping his fingers. “We need someplace to turn into a fake restaurant. Okay? Some place nobody knows about; somewhere underground.”

“So?” Charlotte raises a brow.

“I say we make a fake restaurant in Henry’s house!”

“No.” Henry deadpans, letting his arms drop to his sides.

He doesn’t want to get involved in this. He doesn’t want to make up a fake restaurant so that Y/N can enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. And he especially doesn’t want it to happen at his house. Because if it happens at his house, it means he has to be there, and he has to be forced to watch his friend enjoy her date with some stupid international celebrity when she should be enjoying a nice date in a nice, real restaurant with him– Oh.

Henry bites down on his lips. Take a deep breath, he thinks. He inhales deeply and then, he remembers what Piper said when she called earlier today.

“Why not?” Ray asks.

“There’s a hawk in my house.” Henry answers, silently thanking his idiot dad for bringing a hawk to the house.

“There’s a hawk in your house?” Schwoz questions.

“That’s what Piper said.” Henry shrugs. “I may need to crash here ‘til the hawk leaves.” He adds.

Good thing there is a hawk in his house simply because his father had wanted to get rid of a cricket. It doesn’t make any sense, and Henry hadn’t asked his sister for the details, but right now he was glad he wouldn’t be making up a fake restaurant in his house.

“Okay…” Charlotte trails out, thinking. “So we’ll do it in the Man Cave.”

“Do what in the Man Cave?” Ray wonders, looking at her.

“Make it a secret restaurant so Y/N and Jack can have their date.”

“No! We are not turning the Man Cave into a secret restaurant.”

Oh, no. If they turn the Man Cave into a fake restaurant, it means that Henry, and perhaps Charlotte, will have to pretend to be waiters for the night, and Henry isn't sure he can act the part. Well, if it were for anyone else, he’s pretty sure he could, but not for Y/N. Luckily for him, there’s no way Ray would agree to Charlotte’s idea but the elevator doors ding open, and out steps Y/N. She’s got that hopeful look in her eyes, and Henry knows she’d heard them from inside the elevator. He silently curses under his breath. There go his hopes of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack Swagger. 

“You owe me, Ray.” Y/N says, tilting her head. “You burned down my kitchen.”

She raises a brow expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry shifts on his feet, body tensing as he clenches his jaw. Deep down he hopes that Ray will say no, but Y/N is using her convincing look that none of them can resist, when she’d stare at you intensely until you give up, and she’s backed up by Charlotte, who’s standing next to Y/N and who’s using her famous judgemental look, with her hands on her hips.

“You owe me.” Y/N says again, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Ray groans, throwing his head back in defeat. “Fine! We’ll turn the Man Cave into a restaurant!”

Y/N squeals out excitedly, turning around to embrace Charlotte in a tight hug, before she goes back inside the elevator, closing the doors behind her and the mechanical whirring activates to indicate that Y/N has gone up to Junk’N’Stuff, the store a half-mile above the Man Cave. 

Henry’s shoulders drop, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants, a million thoughts running haywire in his brain. Charlotte notices it, and a smile begins to grow in the corner of her lips. She shakes her head in disbelief before she nudges Jasper’s side, pointing at Henry with her chin. Jasper raises a brow, and he looks back at Charlotte with a knowing smile of his own. 

—

“Sorry I’m late.” Henry says begrudgingly as he steps out of the elevator. “The hawk grabbed my tie and wouldn’t give it back. Luckily, my dad distracted it with his face.”

“Is he okay?” Jasper asks his friend.

“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s got like… razor talons and like, a knife beak. So.”

“No, no. I meant your dad.”

“Oh! No, he’s in serious pain.” He pauses. “This place looks, uh… great…”

Henry looks around. Silver and pastel purple curtains cover the entirety of the Man Cave, hiding away anything hero-related like the tubes or the sprocket. Three tables are set for two, with silver tablecloths, white plates and silver cutlery, wine glasses and pastel purple napkins to match with the curtains. A grand white piano with fake candles on it stands in the corner, where the couch usually is, and the floor of the Man Cave is covered with a variety of used red carpets to hide the blue and red logo that’s usually visible on the tiled floor. Henry also notices the white peonies and Calla lilies that form one bouquet on the centre of each table, Y/N’s favourite flowers.

There’s a tugging at his heart as he takes in his surroundings. His mind is telling him that this is not right; and he wonders why he is doing all this, but then he remembers. He did participate in burning Y/N’s kitchen, so he owed her this, as much as Ray and Jasper did. He is surprised that they even managed to create a romantic fake restaurant in the Man Cave in the first place, but it doesn’t mean that he cannot loathe the idea of Y/N having a date with someone. 

“Where’s Ray?” Henry eventually asks Jasper to try to forget about his unresolved feelings for Y/N.

“Chef’s in the kitchen.” Jasper answers, shrugging.

“Wh– where’s the kitchen?”

“Behind the soundproof curtain.”

“Whaaaaat?”

Henry trails out dumbfounded as Jasper mouths “I know”. Ray’s voice reaches their ears almost immediately as Henry slightly pulls open the curtain to make sure Jasper’s telling him the truth about it being soundproof.

“Are you kidding me?!” Ray shouts exasperatedly. “I just had it! How could I lose– it was here two seconds ago! I swear on my father’s prepurchased burial plot–”

Henry closes the curtain, then turns back to Jasper. “Hm. Chef sounds mad.”

“Yeah, we should check on him.” Jasper agrees.

The two friends step through the soundproof curtain, and they see Ray frantically looking around for something, flailing his arms around with two lit flares in each of his hands.

“Oh, come on!” Ray yells.

“Woah, whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?” Henry asks, raising a brow. Anything to get his mind off of Y/N.

“I can’t find my fifth flare!” Ray whines. “And if I don’t have all five flares, it’s ruined!”

“Put the flares away man. They’re for emergencies only!”

“Or for playing Truth or Flare!” Jasper adds.

“It’s fine. I just had the thing! Where– it was here a second ago!”

Ray keeps muttering to himself as he searches for his flare inside the made-up kitchen. He pivots on his feet, his back toward the teenagers, and Henry sighs exasperatedly when he spots the flare inside of Ray’s backpocket.

“Found it!” He says. “I found it!” He goes to grab a dish towel. “Stop. Move.”

“Where is it?” Ray asks again, more to himself.

“Dude, you gotta stop lighting flares in kitchens.” Henry deadpans as he grabs the lit flare from Ray’s pocket.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Henry and Jasper exchange a look, before they try to pry the flares away from Ray’s hands.

“Okay, hand them over.” Jasper says when Ray tries to resist.

“Give them to me man.” Henry groans. “We’re done. We’re done! We’re done!” 

“Ah! You’re ruining my process! No, don’t put them in there! Don’t put that– Oh…”

Ray whines again as he sees the two teenagers throwing his flares into a steaming pot of water. Henry wipes his hands over the black apron tied around his waist just as Jasper’s phone beeps with an alert. He quickly checks it, and he adjusts the bowtie around his neck.

“Okay. Y/N and Jack Swagger are close.” He says, putting his phone in his pocket. “I gotta go up to Junk’N’Stuff, meet Charlotte, and pretend it’s a fake store.”

“It is a fake store.” Henry snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly. This guy gets it.”

Henry shakes his head in disbelief. So much for trying to forget about his feelings.

—

“I am so sorry, we are fully committed this evening. There are no tables available– Madam President.” Jasper hangs up the phone, raising his head as the shop’s bell dings. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there because I was just on the phone with– Y/N?”

Y/N stands awkwardly in the middle of the shop when Jasper finally acknowledges her presence, but he frowns when he notices she stands there, alone. Charlotte stands behind her, with a sad look on her features and she takes a tentative step towards her friend.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Charlotte asks. “Where’s Jack Swagger?”

“He– he bailed on me.”

Y/N chokes out, trying to keep her tears at bay. She knows how much effort her friends put into creating this fake underground restaurant just for her to have her date with Jack, she can’t cry in front of them. And yet, she did not expect Jack to bail on her when she was inside a taxi and on her way to pick him up from his hotel. She couldn’t call her friends to tell them to cancel everything, she didn’t have the heart to. They did all this for her, so she could have a quiet date with a celebrity she’d known since she was ten; she couldn’t bail out on her friends after what they’ve done for her. And yeah, she only ever agreed to go on a date with Jack to forget about her unresolved feelings for someone else, and she knew it probably wouldn’t have worked out between her and Jack, but it had been nice to know that someone cared enough about her to take her out on a date. She wasn’t even mad that her date wasn’t about to happen, she was upset because her friends had created a fake restaurant for her and Jack, and he’d bailed on her at the last minute.

Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from the cold, and she hugs herself tightly as Charlotte puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jasper gets off from the chair he’s been sitting on, and he walks around the cashier counter to join his two friends.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jasper wonders, genuine concern in his voice.

“H– he texted me. I was already in a taxi on my way here. I was supposed to pick him up on the way, when he texted. Said he couldn’t make it, superstar stuff he said…”

“Y/N… You could have called us.” Charlotte says. “To tell us your date was cancelled.”

“N– no. You guys made up a fake restaurant in the Man Cave so that I could have my date with Jack. It wouldn’t have been fair to you guys if I had cancelled, not after all the effort you must have put into doing whatever’s below us. I– I’m gonna go down there, and I’m gonna have a girl’s dinner by myself.”

Charlotte smiles sadly, before an idea pops in her mind. She lifts her head to look at Jasper, and an understanding passes between them. Charlotte knows what she has to do. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Y/N. I’ll have a girl’s dinner with you.” Charlotte lies, having another idea in mind, but Y/N seems to buy it.

“Dinner for two, then?” Jasper chimes in  as he walks back behind the counter.

“Yeah, okay.” Y/N laughs. “We have a reservation for Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Ah! There it is. Right this way, ladies.”

Y/N and Charlotte look at each other before laughing at Jasper’s antics as he leads the way to the elevator in the back shop. 

Down in the Man Cave, Henry waits by the white grand piano as the elevator dings open and out come Y/N, Charlotte, and Jasper. The first thing he notices then, is the absence of Jack Swagger. He frowns, and his grip on the fake menus tightens. His jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth, but his features soften again when his eyes land back on Y/N.

Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat as he looks at her. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with her hair cascading down her shoulders and the mesmerized smile hanging on her red, lipstick-covered lips. She spins around on her feet, taking in the sight of the remodelled Man Cave for the occasion, and the long dress she wears twirls as she does so. Her soft chuckle is like music to Henry when it reaches his ears, pulling him out of his reverie just as Jasper and Charlotte walk up to him. But his eyes never leave Y/N, not even when Jasper drags him behind the soundproof curtain until he can’t see her anymore.

“What’s going on?” Schwoz asks, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “Why’s Henry all lovestruck?”

That seems to pull Henry out of his trance. “No, I’m not!” He says, shaking his head. “Jasper, what’s going on? Why is Y/N on her own?”

“Oh! Jack Swagger bailed on her.” Jasper answers nonchalantly.

“What?!”

“Yeah. He texted her when she was on her way to pick him up in a taxi.”

“So, she came on her own?” Schwoz questions, raising a brow. “Then, what’s the point of a date?”

“She didn’t want to cancel, because she knows how much effort we put in turning the Man Cave into a fake restaurant. She’s going to have a girl’s dinner with Charlotte instead.”

“Well, actually… I lied.”

All four men -including Ray, who’d been eavesdropping on the conversation while stirring a pot- jump on their feet, startled by Charlotte who’s now standing behind Jasper, the soundproof curtain closed behind her. 

“Y– you lied to Y/N?” Jasper asks incredulously. “W– why?”

“I thought we were on the same page!” Charlotte groans, throwing her head back.

“Did you– did you leave Y/N on her own?” Ray asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Charlotte.

“No, Piper’s here!”

“Wh– What? Piper’s here? Wh– why?” Henry questions.

“She thought she’d see Jack Swagger with Y/N, so she came to play the piano.”

“But Piper doesn’t know how to play the piano?”

“That’s what I said! She was gonna use her phone to play slow jams, and she’d just fake playing.”

“Uh, makes sense.” Schwoz shrugs as he nods approvingly.

“Any-Ray…” Ray interrupts. “Why did you lie to Y/N, Charlotte?”

“Come on! I can’t be the only one smart enough to have figured it out, can I?” When no one says anything, Charlotte says, “Henry is going to take Y/N out for dinner here.” 

Henry drops the fake menus he’d been holding onto all this time, and he whips his head towards Charlotte, blinking several times as if she’d grown several heads and he couldn’t believe it.

“Wh– wha– what?” He breathes out in shock. “Wh– wh– why?! I can’t take Y/N out for dinner, have you lost your mind Char?”

“Hen, we know you like her.” Charlotte implies, and her statement is followed by a chorus of hm.

“Wh– what? N– no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” Jasper states. “Now that Char’s said it out loud, we know what she’s talking about. You’re not good at hiding it.”

“Even Ray could tell you like her.” Charlotte adds.

“Hey!” Ray whines. “But it’s true though. You do like her.”

“Yeah! You’ve been doing oogly eyes at Y/N whenever she comes to work.” Schwoz carries on, nodding.

“What does that even mean, Schwoz?!” Henry wonders.

“You can’t take your eyes off her!”

“Schwoz’s right.” Charlotte agrees. “You even started to read her favorite book. And you hate reading.”

Henry sighs, throwing his head back and lifting his arms up in defeat.

“Okay, fine! Fine.” He says. “So, what if I like her? What am I supposed to do?”

“Take her out on a date, Kid.” Ray answers, motioning towards the soundproof curtains.

“But what if she doesn’t like me that way?”

“But, what if she does?” 

Henry glares at Ray, before he glances towards Charlotte. Surely she’d been joking when she suggested he takes Y/N out on a date here in the Man Cave turned restaurant. But she looks at him with a knowing smile, arms crossed over her chest, and she’s backed up by Jasper, who has a smug expression plastered on his face. 

Henry sighs. It’s true that he hasn’t been really excited to play-pretend being a waiter in a fake restaurant, because it meant being forced to watch Y/N enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. It’s true, now that he thinks about it, he’d felt slightly jealous when Y/N first mentioned her date with Jack Swagger earlier today. And it’s true that he’d felt slightly relieved when he found out that Jack Swagger bailed on Y/N. So, what is he so afraid of now? Charlotte’s offering him a chance to take Y/N out on a date, in this fake restaurant they’d spent all afternoon setting up, why doesn’t he want to take it?

He glances at the soundproof curtains, knowing Y/N’s behind with his sister, and Henry can hear the thumping of his heart the more he thinks about how she looks tonight. Her bright smile, the wonder in her eyes as she’d looked around the remodeled Man Cave for the occasion, her H/C cascading down her shoulders, or how her dress fitted her perfectly as she twirled around.

“Earth to Henry. Earth to Henry.”

Henry blinks, pulled out of his thoughts by Ray’s voice, and when he turns his head back towards his friends, he knows what he has to do. He fumbles with the knot around his waist, before handing his apron to Jasper.

“Why are you giving me this?” Jasper asks, raising a brow.

“I’m gonna take Y/N out on a date.” Henry says confidently. “Give me your tux jacket.”

Jasper grumbles and reluctantly gives his jacket to his friend. Lucky for the both of them, they wear the same size so the jacket fits Henry like a glove. 

“Let’s get this date on the road!” Ray shouts as he fist-bumps the air, returning to his cooking.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t blow up another kitchen with those flares.” Charlotte sighs, watching as Ray childishly lights up a flare.

“Thanks.” Henry whispers before he turns to Jasper.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll be the waiter tonight.”

“Thanks man.”

—

Henry steps out of the made-up kitchen, instantly spotting Y/N by the grand white piano, laughing as Piper pretends to be a professional pianist. He nervously adjusts the tie around his neck, wiping his moist hands on his trousers as he walks over to the two teenage girls. Tentatively, he puts a hand on Y/N’s back, and she turns her head around to look at him.

“Oh, hey Hen.” She smiles. “What’s up?”

“Char told me what happened,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Where is Charlotte, by the way?”

“In the kitchen, making sure Ray doesn’t blow it up.”

“Oh.”

Henry can hear the disappointment in her voice, and he instantly feels guilty, dropping his hand from the small of her back. He swallows nervously, and he hears the rustling of the curtain behind him, meaning Jasper’s waiting to settle them at their table.

“Y/N?” Henry calls for her attention.

She lifts her head, eyes looking into his. “Hm?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks her, rubbing a hand against his neck out of nervousness.

“Wh– what?”

“This is going to be interesting.” Piper whispers under her breath as she watches.

“I, uh… I’d like to take you out on a date if, uh… that’s okay with you?” Henry tries again, albeit clumsily. 

“Are you– are you asking because Jack Swagger bailed on me?”

“N– no! No!” Henry shakes his head, hands dropping to his sides. “No! I’m– Listen, Y/N, I– I like you. I mean, I like like you, Y/N. And I’d love it if you’d go on a date with me.”

“You– you like me?” Y/N stutters, blinking.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N lets out a trembling breath. She doesn’t know what to think; she’s had the longest crush on her best friend that she doesn’t even remember when she’d first caught feelings for him. He’d been the whole reason she agreed to go on a date with Jack Swagger in the first place; to forget about her confusing feelings for Henry. But here he is now, after she’d been bailed on, asking her out on a date in a fake restaurant he’d put up all afternoon with the rest of their friends. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart as she looks back to Henry. What an interesting night this turns out to be, she thinks.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Henry Hart.” Y/N says eventually, smiling.

“Shall we?”

Henry asks as he offers her his arm to take, and shivers run down his spine when her hand finds the crook of his elbow. He looks at her with a smile, before he leads her away from the grand piano, where Piper resumes fake-playing a slow tune, and towards Jasper who holds the fake menus in his hands.

“If the two lovebirds would follow me,” Jasper says as he slips into the role of a waiter in a fancy restaurant. “We have your table ready right over here.”

“Thanks.” Henry says as he pulls the chair for Y/N.

Y/N sits down, placing her small purse on her thighs as she waits for Henry to sit across from her. She spots the flowers in the centre, and she smiles. Her favourites. For a minute she wonders whose idea it was for the flowers, and after pondering it she comes to the conclusion that it had either been Charlotte, or Henry. 

“So…” Y/N trails out, a smirk on her lips, as Henry sits down. “What’s this place called?”

“It’s called Food.” Jasper answers proudly.

“That’s dumb.” Y/N snorts.

“Is it? What if I told you it’s ‘food’ spelled with a U with two dots over it.”

“Now, that’s interesting.” She glances at Henry, who smiles sheepishly.

Jasper hands them the menus. “Take your time, I’ll be back for your orders.”

Y/N gives Jasper a grateful smile, watching as he disappears behind the silver curtains. For a short minute, she can even hear Ray yelling there and she cannot suppress a laugh as she shakes her head in disbelief.

“This place is nice.” She says, looking at Henry again. “For a fake restaurant.”

“Right? So private.”

“Henry, we’re the only ones here. Of course, it’s private.”

“Ye– yeah, I know. I just– I like the idea of our first date being private. Y’know, without anyone around.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe that your sister is eying us from the piano, and that everyone else here has poked their head through the curtain to spy on us.”

Y/N finishes explaining with a laugh, and Henry looks over his shoulder to see Ray, Schwoz, Charlotte, and Jasper with their heads poking through the soundproof curtain, one head after the other. He frowns, giving them his best menacing stare, and all of them scurry off back behind the curtains. Then he glances towards his sister, his lips pressed into a thin line when he sees her with her phone in her hand as if she were going to take a picture. He wants to tell her off, but the words get lost in his throat when he feels a hand above his on the table, and he turns his head back around to look at Y/N. She’s smiling that soft smile she always wears around the people she loves, and Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat again. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks as he flips his hand around so that his palm touches hers. 

“I’m sorry this isn’t the date you had in mind.” He tells her, holding her hand in his. “And I’m sorry Jack Swagger bailed on you. And that you’re stuck with me inst–”

“Henry.” She interrupts him, smiling. “I’m glad it’s you I’m stuck with. And it may be a fake restaurant, with fake chefs, a fake waiter and a fake pianist, but I’m happy it’s you here with me.”

“R– really?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I’m not sure it would have worked out between me and Jack, if something ever were to happen… I don’t think I’m cut out to be the girlfriend of a superstar.” She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“And what about being the girlfriend of an awesome sidekick to a superhero?” Henry asks with a smug smile on his lips.

“Henry Hart, are you asking me to be your girlfriend at the beginning of our very first date?”

Y/N questions him, letting go of his hand as she leans over the table, resting her elbows on top of the silver table cloth, and she rests her chin atop her linked hands. A playful smirk grows on her lips as she watches him, raising a brow as she waits for his answer.

“And what if I am?” He says then, mimicking her movements. “What then?”

Y/N hums, feigning deeply thinking. “I don’t know. Do you know any awesome sidekicks here in Swellview?”

“I might know of one. Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name is Kid Danger.”

“The name does ring a bell.” She says playfully, leaning further over the table. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“I heard he works in a store called Junk’N’Stuff.” Henry answers, leaning over the table until his forehead touches hers. “And I heard he’s really Henry Hart behind the mask.”

“Well then, Henry Hart,” Y/N says with a smile. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

ⓒ writerinlearning – 2025

[unicyclehippo]

Hey, Ollie, you mentioned AGES ago that Show Me the Way Home (Avatrice) had a second chapter, it just wasn't perfect yet-- do you think you'll ever post it? Or is that officially an abandoned fic?

its not abandoned, i actually did some minor editing on it the other day. the problem is that its a very seasonally locked piece in my mind & also im lazy & also a perfectionist & also i want to watch wn again before i keep writing it bc i need to rmbr what the characters are like & basically any one of those obstacles are enough to shut me right down so.

it actually is a four part story & if u want, i can share a little with u now? maybe that'll make me feel better for not posting it yet lmao

thursday 22nd december

// 6:55 //

Beatrice stood by the doorway of her apartment, phone in hand and duffel bag at her feet, and wished she was already at her parent’s holiday home. 

It wasn’t that she thought their reunion would be simple or pleasant; it was more that today had started hot and was getting hotter and her parents kept their home at a crisp twenty-three degrees at all hours of the day and night, environmental impact be damned. As the humidity clung to her, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck, Beatrice’s thoughts drifted to the crystal blue pool and the ocean wind that would blow up from the cove and she checked her phone again for any word from her driver. 

Camila’s voice travelled from the kitchen. ‘Maybe you should take the can opener with you. I mean, what if you need to open a can and you don’t have one? There might be beans. Baked beans, cannellini beans, red kidney beans.’

‘I’m sure my parents have one. They do have a kitchen. And a personal chef.’

Camila heard her. The apartment was too small for her not to have heard but she continued listing off every tinned item she could think of. 

‘Lentils, obviously. Diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, peeled tomatoes, puréed tomatoes.’ There was a long pause. Beatrice wondered if Camila was reading the labels of what they had in the pantry; if she was, those lentils had been there for a very long time. ‘Tinned peaches.’

‘I think those come with a tab now,’ Beatrice pointed out. She kept her voice mild, not really wanting to draw Camila’s attention to her hiding place by the door. 

At some point over the last few days, the nerves buzzing under Beatrice’s skin had jumped ship and now Camila was the one pacing the confines of their apartment. She’d picked over every inch of the house in search of things Beatrice might need—which ranged from the useful, like the good phone charger she’d “found” (definitely hadn’t stolen out of her room a month ago) to what could be charitably called not useful, like the can opener—and now she stood at the end of the hall bearing the can opener and a dark frown befitting a serial killer. 

Beatrice cleared her throat. Carefully, she said, ‘I really don’t think I need it.’

Camila looked down at her weapon. ‘Oh. Right. No, sure, of course not.’ She tossed it backward into the living room; it missed the couch, landing instead on the floor with a loud thud, the sound of their rental bond being instantly halved. Beatrice winced. Camila seemed not to have noticed, though, and with her hands now empty she returned to chewing nervously at her thumb nail. She scanned the living room, hawkish, before fixing her attention on Beatrice once more. 

‘Can I help you?’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Camila…’

‘Because you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? It’s not your only option—you could come home with me again! My parents would love it, we’d all love it, I promise. And you wouldn’t be intruding at all, I swear. The boys ask about you all the time and when you’re coming to visit again.’

‘They’re very sweet.’

‘Sweet! When they want something, sure! They’re still hoping you’ll teach them how to throw people—they bring up your match with Conner every time I call home.’

‘Tell them I’ll think about it.’

‘That can be your Christmas present for them. And Pop, he says you’re the only good one of the bunch.’

‘It’s because I don’t talk.’

‘I know. Poor guy. Christmas in a household of me’s. It’s so loud we have to mime everything for him.’

Beatrice smiled. ‘He turns off his hearing aids.’

‘What? That sneak!’

‘Don’t tell him I was the one that dobbed him in.’

‘It’ll be the very first thing I say—then you won’t be his favourite anymore and the rest of us will have a fair shot.’ Laughter shone in her eyes; it faded a little as she stared at Beatrice, gaze flicking down to the duffel at her feet. ‘I’m serious, Bea. You could call up your parents and tell them you’re not coming anymore. I’d prefer you tell them to go fuck themselves but.’ She sucked in a breath, shook her head. ‘Bea. Don’t waste your time on them. Spend your holiday with people who want you around. Who love you.’

It was a tempting offer. Of course it was.

From the day they met, Camila had been Beatrice’s friend; from the second, her sister. She’d gone out of her way to be all that a sister could be—kind, understanding, supportive, deeply irritating—and offered it all without cost. Her family was just the same. 

Beatrice remembered last Christmas fondly. The singing, the laughter, her chair squashed up to the end of the table next to Camila’s, the friendly chatter, the elbows bumping, the squabbles breaking out, the yet more guests arriving and pulling up a chair, the pass the salt, pass the butter, pass the damn water would you I’m dying over here, where’s the champagne, Arthur we don’t need another bottle of champagne it’s not even midday for Christssake, Beatrice do you want a second serve help yourself sweetheart, when do we open the presents. It had been loud, sometimes overwhelming, and wonderful all the same. 

But. 

Beatrice shook her head. 

Camila sighed. ‘I had to try, obviously.’

‘I know. Thank you.’ She set her hand on Camila’s wrist and squeezed. ‘I appreciate it, very much. Please tell them… Please tell everyone I miss them and that I’ll see them soon.’

‘You mean for your surprise birthday party?’

Beatrice smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Good. Because mum’s going to need a menu from you—’

‘I thought we agreed we’d buy the food, Camila, I’m not making your mum cook for me.’

‘She likes to cook for her kids. Unless you want me to tell her you’d prefer eating a stranger’s food over hers?’ Beatrice scowled at the bold threat. ‘That’s what I thought. Pick what you want and I’ll tell her. Better yet, text her yourself.’

‘If I know your mother, she has something in mind already.’

‘More like eleven somethings.’ 

They shared an identical grin. Camila’s mother had a small habit of going overboard for parties and events. A buzz broke the moment. They both glanced down at Beatrice’s phone. 

Mr. Morris I have arrived

Beatrice Thank you. I will be there momentarily.

Beatrice nodded. This was it. She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘Mister Morris is here. I should go.’ To Camila’s suddenly stricken expression, she soothed, ‘It will be fine, Camila.’ And, because she was not completely oblivious to Camila’s concern, ‘I will be fine.’

‘I know that. Of course I know that. But I want—you don’t have to be just fine. You should be having fun. You’re my best friend, Bea, I want you to be happy.’

Beatrice paused. She struggled for a moment to think of a way to explain the purpose of this holiday to Camila, explain her purpose, in a way that she would understand and accept. 

‘It means so much,’ she began, carefully, ‘to be welcome in your family. But they will always be your family.’

‘Bea…’

‘You and they are all beyond generous.’ She held up a hand to stop Camila interrupting. ‘I know they love me, and I love them. I do love Christmas with your family. It’s always wonderful and comfortable and fun.’ She paused, considering her words. ‘But this is - this is about me,’ she admitted with difficulty, and was rewarded for the effort when Camila softened. ‘I want to go. I need to find out whether I have a place with them or not. And I’ve been so uncertain of how it might turn out that I haven’t tried. But this invitation is an opportunity. One would like to make the most of.’

Camila grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close. Very intensely, she said, ‘Okay.'

'Okay? Just like that?' Beatrice asked, doubtful.

'Yeah. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t. It honestly makes me furious and a little bit sick to think of you going back to them. But I love you and I trust you and I want you to call me if you need anything. And whatever happens, Beatrice, you always have a place with me. Always.’

Beatrice smiled. Shifted so that she was the one holding Camila’s hands. Her friend wouldn’t let her go willingly and there was a big part of Beatrice that wanted to let herself be held tight and give in to her friend’s protectiveness, to be bundled safely up into Camila’s terrifying little car and trundling off to visit family. 

It was hard to pull free. 

Beatrice stepped back and opened the door.

‘There’s no need to fret, Camila. I’ll have Ava with me, remember?’

‘Yeah. I know. It’ll be great, you’ll see.’ The tightness around her eyes told Beatrice she didn’t quite believe her own words. ‘And you’ll call me.’

‘Every day.’

With one last hug, Beatrice picked up her bags and left. 

// 7:03 //

The town car waited for her outside the apartment. It was sleek and black, washed and polished; the only evidence of the recent storms were faint specks of grey mud deep in the tyre wells.

Beatrice stopped at the bottom of the stairs, observing the car and its driver—Mister Morris, patiently stood at the kerb—and swallowed around a lump in her throat. He looked the same as when she had left. A little more silver in his hair.

He might not have changed much but she had. Now that she was grown (or perhaps, now that she was not in that household), she found herself full of questions—where was it that Mister Morris had driven from? Where did he live? Had the storms been bad on his side of town? How had he passed the time? Had they lost power? (She and Camila had huddled in their living room—it was, Camila had insisted, the perfect weather for a marathon of gory slashers—and the rain had hammered against the windows with frightening strength but had done no damage. She knew others had not been so fortunate.) Most pressing of all, how had he been? Questions that could not be answered by hiding.

Beatrice gripped the strap of her duffel and, setting her shoulders, marched to meet him.

‘Good morning, Mister Morris.’

‘Miss Turner,’ he greeted her, his smile small but true. ‘A pleasure to see you again. How are you?’

‘Quite well, thank you.’ Then, keeping her tone light and brisk, ‘And yourself?’

‘Very well, Miss Turner. Very well.’ It looked as if he wanted to say something more but then he only smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Your luggage, Miss?’

‘I can see to it myself.’

Beatrice stashed her duffel in the boot then folded herself neatly into the backseat. Mr. Morris retook the driver’s seat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Beatrice fixed her eyes on the headrest in front of her.

‘We have another stop to make, Mr Morris.’

‘Yes, miss. Do you have the address?’

‘I do.’ She ran a finger along the inside of her watchband, rubbing away the sweat that had gathered there. She made it a notch tighter, then loosened once more. ‘They are - That is to say, she is my—’

Mr. Morris met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. His were green and kind. The kindness did not make it easier to say.

‘She is my girlfriend.’ 

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Oh.’

‘Though your mother used slightly different terminology. Companion, I believe she said.’ He kept his eyes locked onto the rearview mirror. When Beatrice glanced into it again, he said warmly, ‘Congratulations, miss. That’s wonderful. I’m very glad to hear it.’

When she had been younger, there had been a stretch of time where running away had seemed very appealing. Each time she attempted it, Beatrice had never made it further than the park four streets from her home. She’d been too pragmatic, even at ten years old, but she’d also been stubborn so Beatrice had say there in the swing until someone noticed; whomever did notice, it was always Mr. Morris who collected her. She was reminded of it as he started the engine. The sound of its growl scared old memories out of hiding—she remembered how the plastic swing creaked, the feel of the metal chain in her little hands, how the gravel of the park entry had crunched beneath the town car tyres. How the headlights had washed over her and away with the tilt of his park and how invisible she’d felt when the lights turned off. Like a ghost haunting the playground.

Beatrice stared thoughtfully at his back, remembering how he would climb out of the car and sit next to her on a too-small swing until she’d been ready to return.

‘Thank you, Mr Morris.’

He nodded. Then, ‘I do still need her address, miss.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course.’

[012mashi]

Holy shit this series is so good!!

From the acting to the cinematography it brings out a tender story about love, generations and relationships and the importance of communication. It has such a cool distinct style, gifsets for days, come on. All the characters are interesting and have clear motivations, helped by enough screentime to flesh them out (like still keep in mind this is just 8 eps, so this is a feat on its own). The writing is funny and filled with clever foreshadowing and hints, but it never talks down to the viewer, even the soundtrack is great, why are more people not talking about Let's talk about chu??

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

finished hazbin hotel and what the fuck it's actually kind of??? good???

[vanlegion]

After careful thought...

I am now convinced RVB is, in a nutshell at its core, two twenty year long dimetric slowburn romance tropes comprised of viewing each from the lens of 'I'd die for you/I'd live for you' while accounting for the repercussions of those choices on the lives of those around them while also examining at the same time the 'Inability to let go/ever start' and how it ultimately locks your mind in a perpetual state of 'What if?' without taking the risk of DOING all by asking the simple fucking question

Ever wonder why we're here?

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)

[siren--squid]

Going Through It in a way that only danvis can fix I think

[jensonsbuttons]

gonna watch turkey 2020 to feel something

[sleazebouquet]

I don’t know anything about how Japanese dramas are produced but it really does feel like the Love Live! School Idol Musical The Drama was meant to have more episodes (or at least they hoped it would do well enough) and then was told to quickly wrap things up.

like if that didn’t happen then idk what is up with the pacing

[krysmcscience]

Did somebody say Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear? I think somebody said Bill shouldn't be allowed to swear. Thanks to that, have these retooled The Good Place jokes:

The "powers that be" can refer to either the Theraprism staff, the Axolotl, or just. Ya know. Disney in general. Or all three! Whichever you think is funniest. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The "party" Bill's referring to is Weirdmageddon, of course. He was quite the ashhole to everyone back then.

Ford has probably gotten pretty good at the 'tune out your psychopathic ex with dank memes' challenge.

It must be very cathartic to be able to make Bill shut up whenever you want with just the press of a button. I'm sure Ford doesn't abuse this ability at all.

Oh, sure, 'Not now,' he says, before he immediately backs out of the newly-made hole in the Theraprism wall. 🙄

Don't worry, Bill doesn't get far.

also yeah i know this one doesn't have an attempted swear - i just wanted to use the joke because of the massive stink-eye involved in it because it makes me laugh

⬇️ More goofs beneath the brief ramble if you wanna skip it lmao⬇️

Why is Ford even there, you might ask? Well, he either decided he preferred to watch Bill suffer in person over being distantly and repeatedly harassed with the same evil desperation book for the rest of his life, or he got roped into some kind of contrived community service for 1.) all his many counts of interdimensional thievery, and 2.) his ignoring all the very clear warnings to NOT summon Bill in the first place (which I like to imagine is also illegal). Theraprism staff were just like, 'Wait, this guy matters to Bill? Ooh, we can USE that! It might be the only thing that can help him want to get better!' It is not considered that throwing Ford at Bill so soon after Weirdmageddon could instead make them both WORSE - in new and altogether special ways! :D

Anyway, I'm calling it the Community Service AU, and I am most likely not going to do anything else with it beyond appropriating these silly Good Place jokes. So, feel free to adopt the concept if y'all wanna??? Just make sure that Bill is still not allowed to swear, no matter what, full stop. It's gotta be a real linguistic corkblork of a situation for him, is all I'm sayin'.

Finally, have these bonus Good Place jokes, but with Handyman!Bill this time:

'Opposite tortures' doesn't sound so bad...at least until it's an all-powerful chaos entity known for torture saying it.

you may think i forgot mabel's cute pink cheeks but the truth is that i did in fact forget but then immediately stopped caring which makes it okay, SHHHHHHH

And, finally:

lmao this is shit

True facts, if you cram Season 1 Eleanor Shellstrop and Michael into a singular triangle shape, they turn into Bill Cipher. This is science, look it up. Or don't, and just trust the source that is me, bro.

Anyway, I should be in bed, y'all have fun with these, I guess. Tune in after like a week or so and maybe I'll have an addendum to my comic about how Bill was drawn naked for karaoke night. Because him actually being naked was not the only thing I considered as a plausible explanation. XD

Also if you see any inconsistencies or errors in any of these comics, No You Do Not :D

Also also, reblogs are rad as hell and I appreciate every single one, just don't repost, please and thanks. Every time a repost is made, an artist somewhere cries. :,)

[reasonsforhope]

Kamala Harris just announced that her vice president will be Minnesota governor Tim Walz. Based on the coverage so far I'm really reassured by this decision.

The Washington Post did an obviously great job of making a prepared article for each option, considering how long an article they had up 7 minutes after the announcement.

((Okay technically it's not an official announcement yet it's "according to three people familiar with the pick, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss a decision that is not yet public." But listen. I am 99% sure this is a weather balloon. (Meaning: a deliberate leak to gauge reaction.) Because the sheer weakness or incompetence on the part of the Harris campaign that it would take for three people to all confirm that within a few hours hours of each other and the planned announcement it is massive.))

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

Honestly this decision, from everything I've read and can tell, looks like it's brilliant politics.

Important Context: The vice president(ial candidates)'s job in an election is not to be similar to the president. The vice president's job on the ballot is very, very much specifically to be different from the president. Why? So they can cover each others' weaknesses. Especially regionally.

(Sidenote: I feel a bit ridiculous saying this. But genuinely if you want to get a stronger understanding of how US elections really work. Go watch seasons 6 and 7 of The West Wing. Genuinely, a lot of politicians have said - especially back in its day - that that was the most accurate depiction of an election they'd ever seen. Also specifically features an entire arc about a contested Democratic primary convention, so also very good if you're interested in understanding weird nominating convention shenanigans.)

From the article:

"Harris’s choice for a running mate was among the most closely watched decisions of her fledgling campaign, as she sought to bolster the ticket’s prospects for victory in November and rapidly find someone who could be a governing partner. In picking Walz, she has selected a seasoned politician with executive governing experience and signaled the importance of Midwestern battleground states such as Wisconsin and Michigan.

Walz’s foray into politics came later in life: He spent more than two decades as a public school teacher and football coach, and as a member of the Army National Guard, before running for Congress in his 40s. In 2006, he defeated a Republican to win Minnesota’s 1st Congressional District--a rural, conservative area--and won reelection five times before leaving Congress to run for governor.

Walz was first elected governor in 2018 and handily won reelection in 2022. Though little-known outside his state, Walz emerged publicly as one of the earliest names mentioned as a possible running mate for Harris, and in the ensuing days he made the rounds on television as an outspoken surrogate for the vice president...

“These are weird people on the other side. They want to take books away, they want to be in your exam room. … They are bad on foreign policy, they are bad on the environment, they certainly have no health care plan, and they keep talking about the middle-class,” Walz told MSNBC in July. “As I said, a robber baron real estate guy and a venture capitalist trying to tell us they understand who we are? They don’t know who we are.”

Walz also has faced criticism from Republicans that his policies as governor were too liberal, including legalizing recreational marijuana for adults, protecting abortion rights, expanding LGBTQ protections, implementing tuition-free college for low-income Minnesotans and providing free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren in the state.

But many of those initiatives are broadly popular. Walz also signed an executive order removing the college-degree requirement for 75 percent of Minnesota’s state jobs, a move that garnered bipartisan support and that several other states have also adopted.

“What a monster. Kids are eating and having full bellies, so they can go learn, and women are making their own health-care decisions,” Walz said sarcastically in a July 28 interview with CNN when questioned whether such policies would be fodder for conservative attacks, later adding: “If that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the [liberal] label.”

Walz also spoke at a kickoff event in St. Paul for a Democratic canvassing effort, casting Trump as a “bully.”

“Don’t lift these guys up like they’re some kind of heroes. Everybody in this room knows--I know it as a teacher--a bully has no self-confidence. A bully has no strength. They have nothing,” Walz said at the event, sporting a camouflage hunting hat and T-shirt.

Walz has explained that he felt some Democrats’ practice of calling Trump an existential threat to democracy was giving him too much credit, which prompted his decision to denounce the GOP nominee instead as being “weird.”

“I do believe all those things are a real possibility, but it gives him way too much power," Walz said on CNN’s “State of the Union” regarding the Democrats’ rhetoric. “Listen to the guy. He’s talking about Hannibal Lecter, shocking sharks, and just whatever crazy thing pops into his mind.”

If Walz is elected vice president, under state law, Minnesota Lt. Gov. Peggy Flanagan (D) would assume the governorship for the rest of his term. Minnesota Senate president Bobby Joe Champion, a Democrat, would become lieutenant governor."

-via The Washington Post, August 6, 2024

--

This guy. Sounds like. fucking Moderate swing-state/rural/Midwestern/southern/"heartland"/working class white voter catnip. He sounds like he's also a very smart politician and strong campaigner. And he's apparently genuinely a good guy with a good record, too.

He sounds like he's going to do a really good job of appealing to voters in several of the big deal swing states without being from any of them specifically. Which means it doesn't feel like pandering to one of the states involved (and thereby spurning the others), which is also great.

(Also he was the one who started "weird" @ conservatives and I think we should take that seriously as a very good political instinct/move. Judging in large part by how it has so clearly hit an actual nerve with conservatives like so little else. Also hugely relevant: that post going around about how part of why conservatives are so upset about "weird" is because in the Midwest, "weird" specifically also implies anti-social or harmful behavior.)

Officially feeling more optimistic about Trump not winning in November

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[renthony]

Movies are getting longer and TV seasons keep getting shorter, and it's muddying what I love about each medium.

A good movie is a short story--sometimes self-contained, sometimes part of a series, but still a single serving that I can enjoy in one sitting.

A television show is a novel, building over time, allowing me to pace myself chapter-by-chapter or race through each installment as I choose.

It sucks when I watch a movie that feels like it wants to be a long-form TV show, and WOULD be if it weren't for budget limitations and executive meddling. It also sucks when you can tell a movie/movie series was TRYING to be a simple short story, but is getting arbitrarily extended by the studio in order to Make More Money.

I hate it when I watch a TV show that SO CLEARLY wants to lavish attention on all its characters and settings, but is being crammed into movie pacing because the artists are scared they won't get another season and the network only gave them ten episodes to tell a story that deserves three times that.

I wish artists could make the art they want, in the medium they want, without getting constantly fucked over by capitalism. I really, really do.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader read thirst tweets

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

warning: a little bit thirsty, as expected <3

The cast settled into their seats as the crew finished setting up the cameras and lighting.

“Why am I more nervous for this than any of the other interviews?” Madelyn laughed, straightening up her dress. The cast had already done a handful of different interviews for the third season of Outer Banks, the famous (or infamous) “Thirst Tweets” the last on the docket.

“No I am too, babes.” Y/n said, shaking Madelyn’s leg playfully. The three girls, Madelyn, Madison, and y/n, sat in front chatting while the boys, JD and Drew, were getting their hair “refreshed” before they began shooting.

“Alright, so here are your tweets,” one of the crew members said, handing each of them a phone preloaded with tweets of varying degrees of horniness.

“Oh my—” JD started to shout, but was cut off when Madison elbowed him.

“Don’t start yet!” Madison giggled, resting her phone in her lap, a blush already rising in her cheeks.

“Ok, you guys good?” The cameraman asked, shooting the cast a thumbs up.

“Yes!” The five of them shouted in unison as the camera began to roll.

“Alrighty, take it away… Madelyn.” The secondary camera operator focused on Madelyn, who looked down at her phone.

“Ok, this one is pretty straightforward: ‘Madelyn Cline is a mother’.” Madelyn giggled.

“Not just ‘a mother’, ‘mother’.” Madison corrected, causing Madelyn to shake her head bashfully.

“Ok, ok, Mads you go.” Y/n said, elbowing Madison lightly.

“‘Madison Bailey please kiss me’...” Madison looked into the camera, a cheeky grin on her face. “Ha, ha… no.”

The cast laughed before returning to their phones, looking through their tweets.

“‘Jonathan Davis I am free tomorrow at 5 pm if you want to go on a date and hold hands! And… redacted, redacted, redacted’.” Jonathan read.

“Sounds… fun?” Y/n commented, glancing back at JD, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, ‘it’s true. Drew Starkey makes me go feral’.” Drew read sheepishly, his cheeks flushing. JD started to make some sort of animal noise, Drew joining in, the two of them playfully going “feral” behind the girls.

“Y/n, does Drew Starkey make you go feral?” Madelyn asked teasingly.

“Not in whatever way they were doing.” Y/n stifled a laugh, turning back to Drew, who shook his head with a grin.

“Ok, sure. You go, baby.” Drew said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright…” Y/n scrolled, looking for a good tweet before continuing, “‘y/n is so fine, like please ruin my life I beg of you’. Wow, thanks I guess? For letting me ruin your life?”

The cast laughed before continuing back to their tweets, each of them feeling flushed and flattered by the very kind tweets.

“‘Before I watched Outer Banks I always classified the rich as annoying and vowed I’d never simp over one…’” Drew read, “‘until I met Rafe Cameron and flew up his ass like a bat’?”

“‘Flew up his ass like a bat’?” Y/n asked incredulously, her mouth agape.

“If somebody walked up to you on the street and said that to you…?” Madelyn asked Drew.

“Marry me.” Drew said nonchalantly.

“Drew, I need to ask you a question—” Y/n began, but collapsed into a fit of laughter before she could get the words out.

“Can I ‘fly up your ass like a bat’?” JD finished, making eye contact with Drew before the two of them moved in for a dramatic kiss, falling away just before their lips would’ve met. The girls let out surprised screams, grabbing onto each other before laughing.

“‘I love my boyfriend with all my heart, I truly do, but Madelyn Cline can sit on my face she’s so beautiful’.” Madelyn read, a small smirk on her face.

“Wow, that’s a lot… real.” Y/n said. Drew’s head whipped up, a look of confusion on his face.

“Is there something you need to tell us?” JD quipped, causing y/n to realize exactly what she said.

“No, no, no,” Y/n chuckled. “Madelyn Cline is very beautiful, but I am still very much feral for Drew Starkey.”

“You’ve got a thing for Camerons?” Madison asked, Madelyn and Drew leaning in with mischievous smiles on their faces.

“Yep, yep, that’s it.” Y/n laughed, nodding into the camera.

“‘Y/n is so beautiful, Drew Starkey can you fight?’” Y/n read with a chuckle, turning to look at Drew.

“Yes, yes I can.” Drew said into the camera, his face completely serious.

“Drew wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Madelyn clarified.

“Oh no, no, I will. Trust.” Drew raised his eyebrows, wrapping an arm around y/n’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The cast let out a collective “awww”, y/n giggling bashfully.

“‘Drew Starkey could rail me anyday. Respectfully’.” Drew chuckled nervously. Madelyn and Madison looked between each other, their jaws dropped.

“Once again, I’m flattered. But… that’s reserved for this one—” Drew grabbed y/n’s shoulder, shaking her playfully. Y/n immediately put her hands over her face, hoping to cover the flustered expression on her face.

“Oh my god.” Y/n mumbled into her hands, the other cast members bursting out into fits of laughter at Drew’s boldness.

“Alright, and cut!” The cameraman said, the cast letting out cheers as they got up from their seats. As they stood, y/n felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist before turning back to Drew.

“How you feeling, baby?” Drew hummed, grinning down at y/n cheekily.

“Flattered. Very.” Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to Drew’s jaw.

“Well, a lot of those tweets certainly had some… good ideas.” Drew whispered.

“Starkey! You’re… too much.” Y/n felt her cheeks warm as Drew kissed her languidly.

“Am I wrong though, baby?” He teased.

“Let’s see when we get to the hotel.” Y/n said, stepping away from Drew and grabbing his hand as they made their way out of the studio… but she had a feeling they probably weren’t going to make it to the hotel.

[hurlingdown]

                     DRESS . . . TO IMPRESS ?

synopsis. in celebration of the most wonderful time of the year, the one piece men have prepared extra special gifts for you. zoro, law, luffy, ace.

tags. dom! reader, implied top! reader. christmas fluff, crossdressing, big muscly men in skimpy skirts, law in a nurse outfit, lingerie, heavy petting, dirty talk, kissing, horribly written crack (i inserted my humour into this), mentions of sex, fingering, cock-warming, rimming etc, don’t read this seriously, it gets progressively worse, spending the holiday season with them <3

a/n. this is my christmas gift to the one piece fandom. enjoy lol.

“merry christmas,” zoro grunted, and you felt a little dizzy from the overwhelming endorphin rush that went straight to your head and somewhere else. 

because this… this was something you would have never anticipated for a christmas gift. this was zoro you were talking about. the epitome of stoicism. had he been just… pretending all along? you would’ve expected something like an earring, maybe, to match his three. a love letter was simply out of the question… though a bouquet of poinsettias wouldn’t be over the top, if he had consulted nami in the first place. but this? this was just… breath-stealing. 

you watched as your lover rolled onto his stomach in his scanty outfit to show off the crystal pink plug that he had stuffed into his puffy rim, shooting you a coy glance over his shoulder. “well?” he hummed. “do you like it, babe?” 

“yeah,” you breathed out. “i love it. you look gorgeous. i think… i think i just fell in love with you all over again.”

he coughed, a blush rising to his cheeks, and yeah, this was something you were more familiar with—not the balmy heat shrouding your face, the dry crawl of your throat whenever you so simply looked at him, the hint of sweat building at your temples at the thought of doing nasty, sinful things to him. 

was he even real? were you dreaming? you better not be, because this was a meal you were going to spend your good time ravishing. 

“well, merry christmas to you, too,” you murmured lowly, climbing onto the bed after him, and he bit his lip with a shiver, raising his hips slightly to present you your christmas gift. you wasted no time in laying your hands on him, squeezing at the skin-tight fabric over his luscious thighs, giving his cushiony ass a small slap before smoothing over the warm ache. 

“gonna eat you out until you’re wet and sore, baby,” you told him, “and then i’m going to finger you while we binge watch shitty christmas movies together on the couch.” you licked your lips, pretending to think about what you were going to say next. “actually... might as well have you cockwarm me while we’re at it. and once we’re done with that, i’m gonna put it in your slutty hole and fuck you ‘til you start crying, okay?” 

“and after that too,” zoro mumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you down for a soft, wet kiss that sent butterflies roaring in your stomach. 

TRAFALGAR LAW

“traf, sweetheart, have you seen my—oh.” 

“get. out.” 

“what are you wearing…?” 

“are you deaf? i said get out!” 

“hold on, okay? it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before! just… is that a nurse uniform?”

but this was different from being naked. this was far more embarrassing. law looked at you with narrowed eyes, tone sharp with accusation that bordered on hurt. “what? you don’t like it?” he nervously bit his lip, pulling down his skirt and squeezing his legs together as though it would hide the very obviously aroused state of his crotch. 

“i do! how could i not? you haven’t even let me say anything yet!” you swallowed, feeling saliva seep into your mouth at the erotic sight before you. “you look so fucking hot, you have no idea. i love it, traf. i love it so much—” 

“okay, okay, i get it.” he huffed with feigned irritation, a small breath of relief escaping him as he shyly glanced at the floor, hands still clutching at the fabric of his dress. “m-merry christmas.” 

you took a few tentative steps forward until you stopped in front of him, and he frowned and turned away, heat rising to his cheeks. “don’t look at me like that. it wasn’t my idea, just so you know…” he swallowed when you put your hands on his bony hips and squeezed, subtly exploring the rest of his outfit with your eyes, and he sighed, relaxing a little. “hey, say something…” 

“sorry,” you chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “you’re just… beautiful. i love you. i love the fit. it looks so good on you… thank you for the christmas gift, love.” 

“and where’s mine?” he said, attempting to distract you from the deep flush on his cheeks. he slung his arms loosely around your neck, giving you an almost pouty look, to which your heart clenched at. “... don’t tell me you didn’t bring me one.” 

“oh, but i did.”

. . . you swore you tried so hard. but you could feel it creeping up on you, like a silhouette, surreptitiously tugging at the corners of your lips. fuck it. you just couldn’t hold back your smirk. you thought you were just absolutely brilliant, coming up with this idea of a gift. you knew he would love it. you just knew. 

“eyes on me, baby.”

maintaining sensual eye contact with him, you gently laced your fingers with his, pressing each of his knuckles to your lips in tender kisses. then, with a gentle smile, you guided his hand down, slowly, slowly, until it was fully pressed against the front of your trousers, right where the zipper was. you nudged your hips towards the cup of his palm, faking a moan.

“there’s your gift,” you murmured seductively, and watched giddily as his golden eyes widened in shock and arousal before a sharp, splitting pain on the side of your face knocked you out. 

“pervert!”

you laughed victoriously as you went down. like he wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black with that cute little outfit of his.

MONKEY D. LUFFY

“merry christmas!” you heard a deafening guffaw before something crash-tackled you from behind, and you fell onto the floor in a heap of rubbery limbs. 

“luffy!” you choked out a laugh as your lover wrapped himself around your ribs, still unwilling to let go. “baby, i can’t breathe.” 

“oh. sorry!” he retracted his arms and legs, getting off you with a spring. you sat up, and that’s when you saw what he was wearing. a cute christmas skirt and matching leggings, and he looked so ridiculously adorable you had to do a double take. he frowned at your flabbergasted expression, leaning in to inspect your face. “huh? did i break you? i promise, i didn’t mean to hit you that hard! wait, why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” 

he pat your head, as though that would fix things. you squinted at his carefree smile. hold on. what the absolute shit. was that lipstick? 

“luff,” you took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat. “who dressed you up?” 

“nami, duh,” he sung, giving you a little twirl to show off the fit. you already knew the answer—you just had to double confirm. crap. just how much money did you owe her now? a thousand berri? two thousand? to be fair, for this quality of work, you’d pay her a fortune. “nami said you’d like it. well? d’you?” 

“yeah,” you murmured, half in awe, half in devastation, because this was a really bad time to get horny if luffy wasn’t in the mood. “you look really pretty, baby. i love it a lot.” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the horny. but it was just so hard to stop being horny all of a sudden. every time you closed your eyes, all you could envision was the horny: him in that skimpy christmas skirt, a bright flush on his cheeks, sprawled out on the bed underneath you… 

the soft press of lips against your cheek made your eyes shoot open. “huh?” 

the red colour on his lips was now slightly smudged, and you raised your hand to gently touch your now stained cheek in realisation. “oh…” 

“you looked consti- constipated sittin’ there!” luffy explained, in a much louder voice than usual, a thick blush covering his face. “i had to, y’knoow, help you out… in case you were having a hard time…” 

and well, there goes your horny.

PORTGAS D. ACE

“darling! you’re home!” you watched as your lover clumsily hobbled out of the bathroom, swathed in the most colourful gift-wrapping paper you had ever seen from chest to heel. “merry christmas!” 

you blinked. were you seeing things? “ace, honey,” you started, slowly, with a laugh. “know that i’d love it either way, but… are you supposed to be my gift?” 

“well, yeah, sort of.” he grinned, trying to make his way over to you in awkward steps. he winked, keeping himself just out of arm’s reach when you tried to pull him into a kiss. “just watch. you might even be surprised.” 

he raised a finger mischievously, and you watched as the tip of it caught on fire. he continued smiling his infamous ‘up-to-no-good’ grin, carefully bringing the small flame near his clothed chest. you raised your eyebrows, unsure, because as much as he was immune to fire, the gift-wrapping probably wasn’t... and the furniture in your house definitely wasn’t. 

“watch…” ace stressed with a hush, dramatically pressing his blazing finger onto the wrapping paper, to which it burnt a hole right through, orange flames immediately clinging on to the circular edges, rapidly widening the puncture. soon, his entire so-called ‘outfit’ was on fire, and you were starting to get alarmed when an eye-catching dark red slowly emerged from the burgeoning flames, strapped right across his chest. 

you choked. was that… a bra? 

“ta-da!” he shouted, opening his arms in full display with what could only be described as pure mirth. “fireproof lingerie!” 

what the fuck. you stood there, gaping, unwilling to believe. the rest of the flames gradually died down, revealing a gorgeous pair of red lace lingerie that hugged his crotch and chest in all the perfect areas, showing off his muscled figure, broad in the shoulders but tight in the waist, with thick hips and strong thighs. you could feel yourself salivating post-shock. 

“baby, you look really, really sexy, but…” you began, swallowing down your laughter. “forget it. why am i even surprised at this point?” ace grinned, albeit a little more sheepish than usual, rubbing at the back of his neck as you checked him out unabashedly. “ah, damn it. you look like a whole feast. i’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you tonight…” 

“ain’t that the purpose,” ace purred, shooting you a naughty glance through his lashes. “come and get me, hot stuff. and hey, guess what? we won’t have to worry about me accidentally burning my clothes off this time.” 

and needless to say, the both of you had a very merry christmas that night, indeed.

masterlist!

MERRY CHRISTMAS! SORRY IF YOUR BONER DIED 💓🫶

[theonottsbxtch]

BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.