#it's like i'm the only one who took it seriously

[thefallennightmare]

Okay the car accident headcannon for next Tuesday you have to do a part 2 to noah losing his shit about everything

@thescarlettvvitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka @Karenfranco @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx

PART ONE HERE

After Jesse brought you home, he made sure you were comfortable in bed before giving you the typical disappointed dad look with the pulled brows and hands on hips.

"What?" You asked.

He scoffed. "You need to call, Noah. Now."

You picked apart the loose threads of your blanket, still nervous. "He's busy and I don't want to bother him."

Jesse sat on the end of the bed, giving your leg underneath the blanket a reassuring pat.

"You know that's not true, Y/N. He needs to know. At least about the crash. The pregnancy thing can wait till he's home."

You sighed, knowing he was right, so you grabbed your phone and clicked on Noah's contact name for a Facetime call.

Jesse got up to leave but you grasped his arm, keeping him in place. "I need you here for support when I tell him about the car."

He rolled his eyes, the noise of the ringing in the background. "He's not going to care about the car. As long as you're alright, that's the only thing he'll worry about."

"Hi my angel."

Noah's deep and sleep-filled voice tickled your ears as you positioned the phone so it could face you head-on.

His dark eyes took in the sight of the cuts and bandages on your face and was suddenly wide awake.

"What the hell happened? Are you alright? Is your arm in a sling?"

Your eyes flashed over to Jesse, who urged you on with a nod.

"I was in a car accident earlier today," you said slowly.

Noah's face twitched with something you weren't sure.

"Why are you just calling me now?" He wondered while doing his best to sit up in his small bunk.

You shrugged your good shoulder. "I know how busy you are and were sleeping so I didn't want to bother you."

"Angel," his voice was stern. "You always call me with anything, alright? Especially with something like this."

Guilt ate away at you as you nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

Noah frowned. "For what?"

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to break the news.

"Your car is totaled. It's not worth fixing."

"I don't give a fuck about the car," Noah said. "As long as you're alive and home that's the only thing I care about."

"Wait," he spoke again. "How did you get home?"

Jesse's head of curls appeared right next to me and waved at Noah. "I'll make sure she's in bed and doesn't overdo it."

"Good. Because I'm on the first flight home."

"No," you shook your head. "You can't cancel the shows-."

"Fuck the shows, Y/N. You could have been seriously hurt. You need me right now, that's the only thing that matters."

You knew trying to fight with him about this would be pointless so instead, you agreed with a nod.

Which also meant you had less than twenty-four hours to prepare yourself to tell him the biggest news of all.

Due to not being able to take strong pain meds because of the pregnancy, it was a rough night of sleep. When you eventually did fall asleep, you were almost dead to the world.

You didn't even know Jesse had left the next night to pick Noah up from the airport.

You didn't even hear Noah enter the house downstairs or his deep footsteps as they ascended the staircase.

You were asleep on your back, broken arm slung over your chest, and Noah carefully grazed a finger over the bandages on his face. All while holding a specific folder and picture in the other.

You were so exhausted that you forgot to hide the ultrasound.

He was quick to slip into bed with you, not bothering to change out of the clothes he spent his entire travel day in. It had been a mess of canceling the rest of the tour and trying to find the next available flight home. It consisted of two layovers and one that took nearly three hours.

But he was finally home to you.

And his baby.

His hand rested on your stomach, his soft voice cooing. "Hi baby, I'm your dad."

When he first saw the ultrasound pictures, he was frozen in a state of shock.

You two weren't even trying to have kids, not now anyway. But according to how far along you were, he remembered the exact night it happened.

You were begging him to cum inside you, fill up your walls. He tried his hardest to resist, but your cries of pleasure had him spilling inside you.

You stirred in his embrace and when your eyes finally opened, you were shocked to see him in bed with you.

"When did-?"

Your question was cut off with his lips to yours in a slow and lazy kiss. Your hands ran through his messy locks of hair as you breathed in his familiar scent.

"I'm so glad you two are alright," he murmured against your lips.

You were about to speak but were halted by his words.

You two.

"How did you?" You asked.

Noah held up the ultrasound picture with a proud and goofy smile.

"You left it on the kitchen counter."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I had this whole idea planned on how I would tell you but I must have been so exhausted from everything, I just couldn't get out of bed."

His lips brushed along your forehead. "It's alright, angel. I'm here now. I've got you."

[lapelduide]

I'm sorry but how dumb can you be to claim Colin has no traumas? How dumb can you be to compare people's traumas?

Colin is not lacking character in any way. If anything, he has more depth! You were just not paying attention to his story! Hiding behind traumas for their wrong choices doesn't make Anthony or Simon full characters with depth.

People are constantly trying to underestimate Colin's traumas. They're acting like Anthony is the only one who lost a father. Acting like only toxic characters have traumas that make them that way and when Colin didn't let these traumas control him he's the shallow one when it's just he has the courage to get out of his comfort zone!

This man literally has never been taken seriously by his family, they don't even have the decency to just listen his travels because he love to share these with them, they don't respond to his letters when he's away, Anthony literally congratulated him for finally being a Rake! They be acting like he can't understand anything unless he fucks!

And it's just his family. Colin literally has been betrayed by the person he thought he loved and by the person he thought he has been loved back. Marina betrayed him not only by trying to use him but by doing it while not taking him seriously too. Yes, Colin proposed to Marina when he didn't even know her properly but again: he thought he loved her. He thought love was supposed to be this fast lightning that will shock him. He believed in love at first sight. And he believed love was enough. He thought Marina was the only person who took him seriously.

Until he found out she didn't.

Yes, Marina had her reasons to try and trap a man but do not even get me started of how much how she did it affected him. How insecure it made him. We literally watched his confidence fade more and more each season. He despised his actual self so much so he felt the need to put on a mask.

But of course a certain part of the audience is ignoring it. Why? Because how can he not let these traumas control him?! How can he take action before it was too late?! He must not have enough traumas!

Or maybe he has a strong enough character. Or maybe he's brave enough to be scared of doing a certain thing but he does it anyway because he's more scared of not having the outcome of it.

He loved Penelope. He didn't know if she loved him back. But he wanted her as his beloved and not just as his friend. It could cost him their friendship. It could cost him his dearest friend. It could cost him the only person who actually appreciated him.

But it also could gift him a life full of Penelope. A life with Penelope.

So he took the risk of losing everything and gathered the courage to confess.

And if you think that's shallow you need therapy for your own sake.

[creatingblackcharacters]

This might seem like a weird thing to get hung up on, but in reference to your post about Wyll's hairstyling, someone made the comment that they imagined Mizora used magic to braid his hair as part of their pact. You replied that this was a racist idea and offered to explain why, but they never commented back. If you're still willing to discuss it, I actually would like the explanation. I'm not disagreeing that it's racist, I just think I'm missing some of the nuances/reasoning.

The only explanation I can think of is the way that Wyll's relationship with Mizora is treated, both in and out of game, just makes the joke really not funny. I hate that Mizora is treated as a quirky, love-to-loathe-her side villain when she's essentially Wyll's abuser. She should be treated with the same gravitas that the writers treat Astarion's relationship to Cazador, or Karlach's relationship to Zariel. Then you've got the fans, who can write loads of rants and analysis of Mystra "grooming" Gale on what I would consider very little basis (adults can have teachers too), but stay pretty mum about Mizora, who started manipulating Wyll when he was 17, isolated him from any support systems he might have had, and literally tortures him with the torments of Hell for disobeying her. I forget which conversation it is, but Wyll even describes her visits to him after he completes a task for her as her "saying all the right words" and "touching him in just the right ways."

Maybe I just haven't seen people talking about it because I'm not looking in the right places, I tend to keep most fandoms at arm's length so I'm not swallowed whole by their nonsense. I'm sorry if this turned into an extra long vent message, but I hope it shows I care about Wyll as a character and the work you're doing in general to improve the portrayal of black characters in fiction and fandom.

I mean, you pretty much said it all. I mentioned in my hair lessons that hair is very important to Black people, and that it's also a matter of consent. You wouldn't want just anybody touching your body, and that includes your hair, yes? So it would be incredibly violating for some white person that is essentially your abuser touching your hair, your body, something that is important to you! How can there be real consent if someone OWNS you? Hair is something that requires trust and intimacy. Especially with the idea that a white person would know better how to do your Black hair?! No thanks.

It's also something that ties into my most recent lesson with stereotypes, plus issues with how men are perceived with abusers. The idea that a boy should be "grateful" that a woman is attracted to/attached to them, even when it's inappropriate. For me, what I see when I see Mizora is a white coded woman allowed to mistreat a young Black boy into his adulthood, and treated as though he brought it on himself, as if he deserves to be mistreated by someone who took advantage of him. I see that people won't take that violation seriously, bc no one cares about the dignity of Black bodies nor do we offer them grace under fire.

Whereas if this were a young white girl, and an older Black coded male demon had done these things to her, all hell would break loose. Fans would immediately understand that that sort of relationship is not appropriate and we should not just assume that "oh well it's just sexy".

I mentioned in the last lesson that this sort of "attraction" has gotten Black boys and men killed at the whims of white women. It's not "funny" to me to think that some white coded woman is allowed to treat Wyll that way and everyone is just... Cool with it. I'd be very nervous to ask your opinions on real Black people.

It's honestly why I felt uncomfortable getting interested in the fandom to begin with, in addition to everything else involved with Wyll and his VA Theo. BG3 doesn't seem like a welcoming place fr, and I too have to keep fandom at an arms length for racism reasons, but as I've done with fandom before this: that's my chance to maybe create something that's missing. 👍🏾

[depresssant]

hades!reader x persephone!geto

also, geto has purple eyes in this bc he originally has purple eyes in the manga.

i love my glorious wife sm 😫

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

you liked to think that you had some semblance of control over some aspects of your life.

you were a goddess⏤ruler of the underworld, at that, but sometimes, frustration crept up into your mind and heart like a constricting snake. it made you want to scream, and tear, and blow everything to bits because this wasn't the life you picked for yourself. what? to be overworked to the bone and taken for granted? shit, you felt like the corporate lawyer for olympus, always cleaning up their messes and doing all the dirty work that they didn't want to do.

so, it was frustrating.

you were tired, and done with everything, and just always angry, but this?

this topped it all.

you didn't even bother to glance at the man standing before you. your hand held your pen so tightly it snapped in half. you wanted to yell. you wanted to scream. you wanted to run away. however, that wasn't you.

tossing the shattered pen pieces to the side and making it vanish into thin air, you gave your husband your signature shit-eating grin and leaned back in your office chair. "so what is this? an audience or a little preview of your next play?"

geto suguru titled his head with an expression on his face that you really couldn't decipher. "i assumed you would be a little more eager to see me after being taken from you. i was gone for six straight months."

the mere sight of him pissed you off.

"what can i say, princess? i'm a busy woman. my entire schedule is packed to the brim for ruling over a bunch of⏤you know, dead people⏤so i'm sorry if i cant drop by to say hi. i don't have time for such silly matters."

"it's strange, really." he took a step forward, and there was some strange tone in his voice. you never were good with emotions. "i was gone for six months. kidnapped. my mother took me back so easily it was almost as if... you orchestrated it all."

"..."

"tell me the truth, [name]. it was you who ordered my kidnapping, right?"

"you're... RIGHT! tada! congratulations!" using your magic, you made little bursts of fire combust into ember-like sparkles that imitated confetti. seriously, it took him that long? all this waiting for him to get the hint was finally kicking in! "i hate it break it to you, but you're not bonnie, and i'm not clyde. honestly, i was waiting for you to get the hint. i mean, come on! a god like you doesn't belong in a place like this. all booring and draaab, am i right?"

geto only gazed at you blankly as you rambled off and paced all about the office. there was a vase full of fresh gardenias right on your desk, but it was strange. you weren't the type of person to have flowers in your office. the strong smell of sweet cologne filled the air, and that jacket draped on your chair wasn't yours. no, geto had gone through your plain closet before, and he had never seen a beige jacket like that. 

"who did you have in here?"

you paused mid-word and chuckled. "you sound a little on edge. a friend of mines came over. why? oh, wait! are you jealous, princess? don't worry⏤"

"no. no, i am not."

huh?

the man walked over to the flower vase and grabbed one of the gardenias, just to crush it with his hand. a tight-lipped smile painted his lips, but his eyes darkened. the temperature seemed to have dropped, and the air just changed.

darkly.

"you can have as many lovers as you want. i'll just kill each and every one of them." his tone was low. threatening. "you can torment me as much as you want, i'll still be here."

"i'm sorry? i'm not following?"

"nanami. that's his name, right?"'

okay. why was he was acting strangely. you expected the kidnapping to piss him off, but it wasn't to this extent. and why was he bringing up your friend? he thought you were having an affair. well, he wasn't wrong.

your grin dropped, and you moved to light a new cigarette.

"you'll kill my lovers?"

"so you are having an affair!"

"what about it?"

geto's eyes narrowed, and he tossed the vase across the room. "we're married!"

"you think i want to be married to you? if i could, i would've divorced you straight to tartarus by now! yes! i orchestrated your kidnapping to make zeus realize i don't give a shit about you! i would give up my immortality before even starting to think of you as my real husband!"

catching the vase, you placed it back on your desk. damn it, you had enough of this. he was wasting all of your free time by throwing this little tantrum! why did he care about your business? this marriage was nothing but a business arrangement from zeus himself! his mother didn't want him married to you as much as you didn't want to be married to him. it was her idea to kidnap him, anyways. all your life, you had no control over the decisions made regarding you, so you didn't want to let geto suguru become another example.

and why was he bothered about all of this?

he hated you.

... right?

you turned back to look at geto with a sigh, but he cut you off the second you opened your mouth to speak.

"do you want to know what future the fates offered me?"

"geto, look⏤"

before you could react, he shoved you down to the floor and caged you in between his hands. there was wild look in his lavender-colored eyes, but you didn't push him away. you couldn't.

"the fates offered me the perfect future... with you!" your husband whispered in your ear. "all i have to do is get rid of anybody that will threaten it."

"suguru, i love you. you know that. please, this is⏤"

the man chuckled and shook his head. his hand moved to caress your cheek and, well, your lower lip. "don't try to sell me your smoke and mirrors. i know you're bound by divine contract."

his voice felt like iron bars caging you on the spot.

"you can't use your powers on me without the intention of good, and you have to stay with me forever. what's with the look on your face? you thought i was just some dumb himbo that was unaware of everything?"

"..."

"but that future the fates showed me? it's perfect. you and i will never be apart. all i have to do is just take care of a few things. starting with that nanami of yours."

[vivwritesfics]

I need rhett or jake to teach me how to ride a horse

I feel like you already sent me a jake one (which i wanna save for my princess au) so I've gone for Rhett (this could be read as Waiting For The Sun Reader but I'm not specifying)

Horses weren't supposed to be scary. Rhett had never thought so, but, then again, he'd grown up around them. His girl, though, she hadn't grown up around horses.

She looked so cute, in her jeans, white shirt (that said Cowboy Pillows over the tits), and his Stetson. Rhett wore one of his caps as he tacked up Pumpkin. Pumpkin, who acted like she didn't know him when he walked up in his cap. That was his lovely, overdramatic mare.

Her ears were pinned back as he brushed her back. "Seriously?" He asked and pulled his hat off, revealing who he was. She calmed down after that, ears moving forward as she realised it was his dad. "Are you gonna be nice for my girl?" He asked and fed her a treat.

Pumpkin snorted.

He placed her saddle on her back and cinched it. As soon the girth tightened around her belly, Pumpkin put her ears back went to bite him, but he just pushed her away.

She was all talk. Rhett knew she was gonna be the best girl for his girl. He placed his cap back on his head, grabbed her reins, and walked her out of the barn.

That was the thing about Pumpkin. As soon as she had her tack on, she was like another horse. She was calm, almost like she was high.

And there she was, thumbs hooked around her belt loops as she watched him with Pumpkin. Rhett sucked in a breath. He placed the reins over Pumpkins neck and walked towards her.

"Cowboy pillows, huh?" He asked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her into him.

She licked her lips, keeping on hand on the back of the Stetson as she looked up at him. "Yep," she said, popping the p. "You can lay on them once you teach me how to ride.

"Darlin', I already know you can ride."

She rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. "C'mon, introduce me to your noble steed."

Noble steed. Pumpkin had never been called that before. He took her hand and led her over to Pumpkin. Rhett was so calm and patient with her, telling her where to put her hands. He helped her get her foot into the stirrup (something he knew he'd have to adjust as soon as she was sitting) and helped to lift her into the saddle.

"Sit straight, Darlin'," he said as he took her foot from the stirrup and made them shorter. She did what she was told, sitting so pretty for him. Rhett held her leg as he placed the stirrup back on her foot and patted her knee.

He looked up at her. "Fuck, c'mere," he said and pulled her down to kiss him.

"Rhett!" She cried, slipping slightly. But he got her back into the saddle and passed her the reins to hold.

It was only her first time on a horse. Rhett led Pumpkin around the pasture as she sat there in the saddle. "You're doing so good, darlin'," he said to her. "My two girls together."

"Can we go faster?" She asked.

Rhett had her let go of the reins. He placed her hands on the pommel. "Just sit as best you can, Darlin'," he said and stepped back.

He waited until she gave him a walk before he began running. Well, it was more of a jog really, with Pumpkin trotting behind him. Periodically he looked back, make sure she was still with him and that she hadn't slipped from the saddle.

They slowed back to a walk and Rhett had her pick up the reins again. He had her walk back without his assistance, hands shoved into his pockets as Pumpkin followed her back to the barn.

As soon as they were there, Rhett helped her to jump down into his arms. "You did so good, pretty girl. A regular cowboy out there," he said, hands around her waist as he pulled her closer.

She swapped their hats, placing his Stetson on his head and his cap on hers. "You go take care of Pumpkin, and I'll get the cowboy pillows ready," she said, reaching back to unclasp her bra through her shirt.

(Welp now I wanna write a fic about Cowboy Pillows)

[balkanradfem]

My neighbour came to give me some gift apples for the holidays, and I had to explain to her that my apartment is cold because I turned off the heating in all rooms except the kitchen, to save on energy while my roommates were gone for the holidays. I put my mattress in the kitchen to sleep on the floor under the tree and the radiator.

She then came later to inform me that I should turn the heating back on, because we bills will be just the same, so there's no use saving, they charge us by the square meter. I reassured her that I already knew that, and didn't do it in order to lower my heating bill, but because I believe saving energy in any way is important, and because energy always comes at the cost to the environment, and I care for the environment so much I'm happy to do this even if it's just one drop in the ocean.

She frowned at me and told me I'm not doing anything, displeased with my naive spirit. I, in turn, remained sure that I'm doing the right thing, and my spirits still raised by the idea that I'm not wasting energy.

I actually have more reasons for doing it, and some of them are that I just wanna be used to and comfortable with sustainable living. People heating the entire house when they're not even using 80% of it, is a very recent, and wasteful development. People used to heat only one room in the house, and just sleep in that same room, next to the fireplace, because it made no sense wasting all that wood, fuel and effort, when they could stay warm and cozy right where they are.

Having my entire place heated up would not make me more happy than I am, it would make me forget that any energy is even necessary for heating, if it's spent so dismissively, like it's a normal thing to do. It makes me appreciate the warm kitchen so much, every time I step into my cooled down bedroom and experience how the building would feel without heating. How wonderful it is to have a room that is completely warm, in the times of the cold.

I am aware that if it gets below freezing, I need to turn the heating on just a little tiny bit, in order for the pipes to not have a chance to freeze over and burst, I know it can happen in the times of extreme cold. But it's not even below freezing right now, so I'm perfectly safe in enjoying my little sustainable ways.

I don't think we'll have enough energy to keep big establishments completely heated while empty, if we want to have a future on this planet, so why not go back to being used to limited heating? It's not something that takes away from happiness, even if it's a slightly less convenient way of life. And we're saving energy as we do it, just like we do when we don't leave the lights on, take quick showers, recycle, turn our electronics off. Heating takes burning fuel, and burning fuel emits carbon in the atmosphere, and creates leftover waste. It's a good thing to be aware where the energy is coming from, and to take only as much as we need to be happy and safe.

[screwpinecaprice]

I really don't have time to be bummed out right now so I made them a little sad instead.

[chamerionwrites]

As a small-time Stellan Skarsgard's Acting enjoyer and big-time Morally Compromised Old Man enjoyer I was inevitably going to fall down a Luthen Rael rabbit hole at least once so forgive me for being fully on my bullshit. But I can't explain my read on this guy without talking about That Speech, and I can't talk about that speech without dumping a bunch of thoughts about dialogue.

Because in my own writing the thing I get most obsessive about is character voice, and the thing about character voice is that not everyone is a poet. Sometimes the craft of writing is about euphony pure and simple. But sometimes (revealing my biases) I think the craft of writing is being able to ask yourself - sure it's good, but is it true? Can you find the poetry in the everyday? Can you express something sharp and compelling and resonant and stay faithful to the perspective of a character who isn't consciously honing their words in that way? All fictional dialogue is constructed. But there does come a point on the spectrum of naturalistic to constructed dialogue - it's partly a matter of taste - where you see more of the writer patting themselves on the back for writing a banger of a line than you see of the character, and personally I often find this off-putting.

Which doesn't mean you never get to let the poetry off the leash (God, that would be joyless). It just means there's a time and a place.

Andor's writers are dropping a lot of bangers and they absolutely know it but largely it works for me, because they're smart about the time and place. Cassian gets to be a guy who's resourceful with his words when the chips are down - that's a big part of his characterization. Maarva and Nemik get to break out the poetry when giving a speech or writing a political manifesto; those words are crafted in-universe as well as out. And Luthen - a performer, a salesman, a man with constructed identities - he gets to use a lot of constructed speech even when he isn't in full-throttle soliloquy mode. I've said before that a lot of stories about espionage are also stories about storytelling: people who create characters, fictions, who tell lies in an attempt to get at truths. In this story Luthen is that guy. Wouldn't you rather give it all at once to something real than carve off useless pieces till there's nothing left - it doesn't matter how constructed that sounds if it's a sales pitch he's rehearsed. It doesn't matter if you see a little bit of the author or the actor peek through when he says things like I know the outside; I imagine the rest, because it functions as characterization when in some sense he is both those things.

All of which is to say That Speech works for me because it tells you something about Luthen beyond the face value of what he says. It tells you this is something he's THOUGHT about, at length. If he hasn't delivered those lines to a mirror, he has absolutely worked through some version of them in his head more than once. And that tells you something just slightly to the left of who Luthen objectively is - it tells you how he constructs and sees himself. I fully believe that Luthen believes what he's saying there.

I also fully believe that this is a man who self-admittedly has an ego and a desire for recognition, who says he's given that up but evidently hasn't let go of some measure of resentment about it. That here's a guy who put on a billowing black cloak, pulled out all the spy theatrics for the express purpose of unsettling his informant, and then gave his best space King Lear audition. That here's a guy with a soliloquy about his sacrifices locked and loaded. On some level Luthen is a little bit into being a martyr for the cause. He's a little bit into the dark glamor of being a lone wolf operator pulling morally tarnished strings. He's a little bit into frightening and manipulating his informant! For all the cynicism of what he's saying, he's a little bit enamored with his own self-image as the sort of man who says it, in a way that suggests an inner romantic more than an inner pragmatist. He says he's damned for what he does but there's more furious pride underlying it than self-loathing; in the same breath he's admitting that a tiny piece of him wants a parade.

Which is fascinating and a little unflattering and way more interesting than just a badass character delivering a badass monologue. The characterization here is partly that Luthen is the kind of guy who monologues.

And to give him his due - I also fully believe that he's a very driven and committed man who has sacrificed a lot. Seen in that light, in fact, I think some of his character flaws come into focus in highly sympathetic ways. Ultimately this is a guy with a deep sense of urgency - "terrified the Empire's power will grow beyond the point where we can do anything to stop it," as he says. And sometimes there can be a lot of ego in urgency. It is a special kind of crazy-making to feel you are taking a problem far more seriously than almost everyone around you. It is a weight of responsibility to believe it's on you to fix that problem before it becomes too big to solve. Under those circumstances it's very understandable that Luthen has big responsible student leading the group project energy and a touch of main character syndrome (which is interesting and sort funny, contrasted with Cassian spending much of the story desperately trying to avoid becoming a main character). It takes a certain kind of drive and audacity-verging-on-arrogance to accomplish what Luthen has accomplished. But character flaws are often the flip side of character strengths, and I think a lot of his are tied up here. Sometimes he's a little enamored with his own isolation (he could choose to be more open with fellow rebel leaders like Saw imo). Sometimes he's awfully comfortable instrumentalizing others while insulating himself. He says Imperial arrogance is remarkable, but sometimes he's blind in similar ways - Luthen is almost as surprised as the Imperials by the funeral riot in the final episode. He's spent so much time stage-managing his would-be rebellion from Coruscant that an organic uprising startles him. In his self-appointed position as the lonely string-puller at the top, he maybe has a bit too much fondness for control and not quite enough regard for community (imo it's also kind of telling that there are no actual Aldhanis involved in the heist on Aldhani). As Clem says - sometimes people don't look down the way they should.

All of which are very interesting and human flaws for him to have! And which I do think the show subtly gestures at in the sort of contemplative way he reacts to that riot, and which I'd love to see come into focus more in S2.

[maddy-ferguson]

i spent two hours (two hours) with my "friends" from school today and i'm MISERABLE roman voice you need to stop this (@ me)

[alfi-always-writes]

ranting in the tags, to be deleted later, will be sad, please carry on :)

[sewerfight]

when I was around twelve I used to sit at the family computer and send hatemail to a white french dude named Jacques who was a self proclaimed communist on Tumblr. This was back in the day when you didn't need a blog to send anon hate. I had no real beef with him but I just didn't like his tone. used to send him "SHUT UP Jacques" periodically. and he'd answer every single one of my asks like "who is this?? show your face or I'll fucking kill you" and I'd be like "now now, that doesn't make sense, jacques" all haughty and he'd get so fucking mad at me. One time he posted a selfie and I sent him an ask claiming I was a psychologist and that his hair parting suggested that he wasn't a communist at all. and he took it deliriously serious and went off on a 2,000 word rant. I can remember going to stay at my grandparents over that weekend, so I didn't even respond to the rant until I came back. I could've chosen to end it there, but when I returned, I sent him another ask which was like "psychologist here again: if you were a communist your hair parting would be in the middle. evenly distributed. All behavioural signs point to someone who doesn't take their own values seriously." and he went ballistic. really swearing at me. all caps type beat. he never turned the asks off, btw. which always made me wonder if he didn't know how to, or if he didn't want to cause he was convinced he was fighting a war, and this action would ensure he lost it. anyway this went on for weeks until one day I completely forgot about him like he was some kind of childhood imaginary friend I'd conjured up in my loneliness. but yesterday I happened to recall the whole scenario, because my buddy was like "remember when you were twelve and I came over to your house, and you showed me on the computer how you'd been terrorizing this random French guy for days on end. And you were laughing like fucking crazy. and I said it wasn't funny because he probably had problems, and you were like 'oh.' and you looked a bit guilty for a second, but then you went and got a grapefruit from the kitchen and threw it out of the second story window at my kid brother, who was playing in the street, and then you started laughing again?" Well. when she put it like that, needless to say I felt bad. so Jacques if you're out there I'm sorry I was such a little shit. you had totally normal hair, and you only wanted people to share stuff. If it's any consolation I know every day of my life that I'm probably going to hell for the sick things I have done

[katandsquad]

.

[halinski]

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[chuluoyi]

✎ forever

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times he asked you to marry him

genre: slightly suggestive, fluff/comfort, silly and lovesick gojo, wedding proposals, mild angst, mentions of injury and protective gojo

note: i was inspired by some fics with this kind of trope and i can totally see gojo asking you to marry him while he's dead drunk—

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

"Why don't we get married?"

The first time Satoru brought this up was right after you both had exhausted yourselves in an intense, passionate lovemaking session.

His bare skin was against yours, and the intimacy of it almost made you want to go along with his suggestion, until you grasped the profound meaning behind his words.

"Satoru," you breathed out, still breathless as you came down from your high. "Are you seriously asking me that now?"

A dopey smile was on his face. "Yeah, is there a problem with it?"

You blinked. The nerve of this clown-head—

"Not even a proper proposal? Or a ring?" you scowled. "Considering your usual flair, this is a rather lackluster attempt at a proposal."

Of course, you weren't a material girl, but considering his big ego and tendency to go overboard, you just had to call him out.

"Hmm? So if there's a grand proposal and I bought you a ring, then you'll say yes?"

There was practically a twinkle in those bright eyes of his now, and you were a bit caught off guard because well, so he is for real?

You’d be lying if you said that the thought of marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind. But to be frank, Gojo Satoru didn't strike you as someone who was interested in anything as cliché as marriage and everything that comes with it.

Which brought you back to this point—you had absolutely no idea what possessed him to bring up this question.

"Hah," you let out a sardonic laugh. "Not that easy. I'll think about it."

When he let out a “Ehhh?”, and started sulking, you were quite sure, and dismissed the question as one of his passing whims.

The second time he posed the question, he was a babbling, slurring mess of alcohol and hiccups.

"Can't we—hic!—" His face was flushed, and he was pitifully wobbling on his feet. "—just get married—hic!—already?"

This time you scoffed, partly out of disdain, crossing your arms in front of you. Satoru seemed to pick up on your unfavorable reaction and attempted to convince you. "I'm being—"

"No," you sternly interrupted, supporting him as he struggled to stay on his feet. You shot an unapologetic look at the other patrons in the bar who were watching you both with disapproving frowns. "Satoru, we're going home."

"I'm—hic!—asking you to marry me!"

"I said no."

"Why?!"

You sighed. "You're dead drunk."

"What will—hic—make you say yes?"

You let out another sigh. It already took a great deal of patience to deal with his immaturity as his girlfriend, and you could only imagine how much more challenging it would be as his wife.

"I'm so heartbroken," he whined, crocodile tears pooling in his eyes as he peered at you like a kicked puppy. "I got rejected twice already... How could you reject me twice?"

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

"Marry me."

The third time around, he was neither bringing it up on a whim or drunk, also he wasn't quite asking—his tone was almost pleading.

And you just woke up from your comatose state after a mission gone wrong, still in your bloodied uniform, eyes barely adjusting to the bright room.

Satoru let out a grunt, clasping your fingers in his warm, reassuring grip. It was evident how deeply distressed he was from the furrowed brow and the quiver in his lips as he looked down at you, as well as the gentle way he was stroking your hair.

At this moment, you wanted to cry. The fact that he was so genuinely concerned for you filled you with warmth and emotion.

. . .

He saw it happen right before him—the crimson blood flowing out of your wound like waterfall. He had screamed at you to breathe and not let go of his hand. The moment he felt your head loll back in his arms and you lost your grip on him, he could swear his own heart had stopped too.

He had never been more grateful that you—his best friend, love of his life, the only one he had left—awoke from that horrifying ordeal. Seeing you stained red by your own blood had undoubtedly distorted his point of view, but his desire to marry you, as what he had been suggesting as of late, clearly was not just a mere passing thought.

Because he is acutely aware of how cruel this world is. This damned world has always taken everything that's important to him, and before they can snatch you away too, he will claim you as his first.

"Marry me," he repeated, his voice now sounding more hoarse, not as confident as it had been the first time.

As you gazed into his beautiful eyes, it occurred to your hazy mind that you very nearly died. That you were that close to not seeing him ever again. You had been apprehensive with how he had phrased his proposals so far, and you didn't want your marriage to be a split-second decision forced by some sort of looming omen.

And yet, falling in love with Gojo Satoru had never been the easiest, but you did anyway. He still held onto your hand, patiently awaiting your response—

—but suddenly, like a sharp whiplash effect, what shocked you was that who you saw then wasn't your boyfriend.

But rather, the man with the mantle of the strongest sorcerer alive.

You could lose him just as much as he could lose you. Sooner or later, who knows? His title is both a blessing and a curse. Up until now, it has been a blessing, but who can say when it might suddenly turn into a curse that tears him away from you?

. . .

This time, you didn't snort or doubt his intention. Instead, you smiled, embracing the profound flutter in your chest as you were being proposed.

"Okay," you whispered, voice dry. "Yes… I'll marry you, Satoru."

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men Making Up With You After A Fight

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna, FAB!Reader

Content Warning: sex, makeup sex, fighting, public sex, choking, dirty talk!

Word Count: 5,453

A/N: Hot diggity damn, makeup sex time. Gojo’s had me cackling!! As always, requests are open!! I don’t bite. . unless you ask nicely 😈

Gojo Satoru

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you ignored it, much like the other ten times it rang. You instead headed for the concession stand at the theater. Your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, had pissed you off beyond all means. He'd forgotten all about your date. The specific date you had been planning for a month. You intended to celebrate at the fanciest restaurant and made reservations two weeks ago. All for him! Because they had world-class desserts.

You got there before him; they took you to your private table. Where you waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, forty-five minutes later, you called him.

“Hey, babe!” He said over the sound background chatter. “What's up? I'm out at the new cafe with Suguru and Nanami!”

“Oh?” Gritting your teeth, you tapped your nails against the table. “Are you having fun?” The tone of your voice was bitter and cold.

Your boyfriend hesitated, “Uhm yeah, the desserts are delicious.” Rage boiled in your gut.

“You know who else has delicious desserts?” He hummed, but you didn't give him a chance to answer. “The restaurant I'm at! You know the one I made reservations for three weeks ago?!”

You could practically see the fear in your boyfriend's voice. “Oh fuck, shit! That was tonight?! Stay there; I'll be there in a couple of minutes.” Your eyes stung with unshed tears.

“No, you can come, but I won't be here.”

You had done just as you said, quickly paying for your tab before hurrying out of the restaurant before Gojo could teleport there. You crossed the street, heading towards the movie theater. There was not a chance in hell he would find you in here. You were heartbroken; all the effort you put into your date was wasted.

You sat in the very back of the empty theater. You were feeling some ease that there was no one here. Then again, they were playing older movies anyone could stream nowadays. You seriously doubted anyone would be joining you to watch Titanic. You could zone out, cool down, and try to figure out what to say to Satoru the next time you see him.

As the opening credits started to play, you heard a door slam open. Peeking down, you choked on popcorn as you noticed your boyfriend scanning the theater. Bright blue eyes seemed to glow as he held his blindfold in one hand. Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin stupid Six-Eyes! Those blue eyes instantly found you, and you could see the relief wash over Satoru. You hid your face behind the bucket of popcorn, internally groaning as you heard him bounding up the stairs.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you wait for me?!” You ignored him, slowly lowering the bucket to stare at the movie screen. “Hey, hello?”

“Shh!” You scolded before stuffing more popcorn in your mouth. Avoiding his questions altogether.

His shoes stepped over the soda-sticky floor, blocking your view of the screen. “We need to talk.” His hand gently reached out, index finger lifting your chin to look up at him.

“Fuck you.” You said, getting up and moving further down the row, plopping down in a seat.

“Y/N baby!” The groan he let out had you rolling your eyes. “Please, I’m sorry I forgot!” He bounded after you, only for you to get up stepping into the lower row. Your action had Gojo stopping in his tracks, the two of you staring at each other. “Are you playing keep away?”

A rich laugh escaped him, one that was full of humor and delight. It had him hunching over as he cackled. You hated it, but you found your smile tugging at your lips. Here he was, groaning and whining like a child, and you weren’t any better. You were running away from him, pouting like a toddler that didn’t get their way.

Gojo’s laughter the tears forming in his eyes, had your heart feeling lighter. God, he was such a cutie. A cutie who forgot all about your date. A date you’d spent time, money, and energy on! All for his benefit. Holy shit, the Gojo charm almost had you forgiving him!

“No!” You snapped, stomping down your foot like the mature adult you were. “Shut up! I’m mad at you.”

Turning to head further down the row, you gasped as Satoru jumped over the row, landing right in front of you. “Look, just give me a chan—“ he started before you threw a handful of popcorn in his face, “okay, and here I thought I was the immature one.” His tongue darted out, licking at the salty butter off the corner of his mouth.

“You are! Toru, seriously! I put all that time and effort into planning that for you!!” You threw another piece directly at his forehead. He allowed the abuse with the popcorn to continue. He was staring at you as you tossed another piece at him.

“Are you done now?” He asked as you hugged the bucket to your chest. “Awesome, cool.” He reached out, ruffling your hair. “I can’t make up for missing the date that I seriously appreciate you planning and paying for. I can, however, make the most out of the night I fucked up.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” You flung one more piece of popcorn at him. It hit infinity before he snatched the bucket from you, placing it in one of the empty chairs.

“You’ll see.” A childlike smile was plastered across his face as he ran down the stairs, grabbing two bags before running back up to you. “We might not be at the fanciest of restaurants.” Your heart soared as he held out a take-out bag from the restaurant where you had made reservations. “But dinner and the Titanic?” He learned by pressing his forehead against yours. “Sounds like a great fuckin’ date to me.”

Taking the bag out of Satoru’s hands, you sighed, your fingers grazing over his longer ones. He didn’t have to pick up dinner from the restaurant you planned to take him to. Satoru didn't even need to try to find you when he knew you were angry, yet here he was—trying to prove to you just how sorry he was. Those were some of the things you loved about him. Cocky, annoying, and charming in more ways than one.

With your free hand, you grab onto Satoru’s wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Has anyone told you that you're a charming asshole?” Seeing your smile, Satoru let out a sigh of relief before intertwining your fingers.

“Nope, that one's new.”

“Don't push it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He grabbed the popcorn bucket before following you back to the top row. The two of you cracked open the takeout containers, eating the delicious food while whispering as you watched the movie.

Halfway through the food and movie, you hummed, watching the infamous steamy car scene before you turned to Satoru, who yawned. “Hey, Toru.” he tilted his head, turning to look down at you. “Do you think we could recreate this scene?” He perked up. “In a veil?”

“Oh, holy fuck!” You yelled, hand gripping Satoru’s shoulder as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, oooh fuck!”

Your boyfriend's head was tilted back against the chair. Whines and whimpers escaped his pressed lips as you slammed yourself up and down as hard and as fast as you could. The tiny viel Satoru had put around the two of you was keeping you concealed, and the heat within the small space.

The thick, musky, almost sweet smell of sex was getting to you, making you hotter and hornier. Knowing the two of you were fucking in such an open space, without people knowing, God, it was so hot. You were going to fuck Toru’s brains out as both punishment for forgetting your date and for making it one you would never forget.

“Y/N, please,” Satoru cried out, “please fuck.”

“Please, what, Toru~?” You cooed, rocking yourself back and forth on his dick, making his jaw drop into a wide ‘O’. “Tell me what you want baby~”

“I wanna cum; I wanna cum in your pussy.” He begged, his hands groping and massaging your breasts. “Please, baby~?”

You giggle just before you can respond to the people entering the theater. The cleaning ushers, no doubt. Your body seized up, clamping down on Satoru’s cock, causing him to growl. Your hand flew up, covering his mouth as you listened to the staff talking. While they couldn’t see you, the thought of strangers walking around while you had sex, god, it made you wetter than wet.

Keeping your hand over Satoru’s mouth, you fucked yourself down on him like he was your own personal dildo. His whines grew louder under your hand as he gripped your ass, helping you fuck yourself on him. He was so close, so, so close.

All he needed was a little push. That push is your twitching cunt. You rocked faster, your free hand resting over his chest, as you felt your orgasm coming in fast before your back arched. A silent scream etched your face as you came hard. Satoru gaped into your eyes, eyebrows furrowed together, as one hand gripped your ass and the other smacked into the veil.

Or rather, through it.

A bloody murder scream came from one of the workers as a disembodied hand popped out of thin air. The co-workers followed her out, screaming and yelling. At the same time, Satoru pulled his hand back inside the veil. The two of you were coming down, your bare chest resting against his. You just stared at each other for a long moment before you both started to giggle loudly.

“G-Guess the handprint scene doesn't work well in the veil.” Satoru chuckled, cupping strands of hair behind your ear.

“Guess not.” Was your confirmation, as you slowly pulled yourself off of Satoru’s lap with a wince. “Such a shame. I was hoping for better results.”

“Hmm, it might not work with the veil, but I have an idea where we could try because I’m not done yet. I still haven't apologized to you in the way you deserve.”

“Oh?” You both picked up your trash and readjusted your clothes as Satoru lowered the veil.

“Yeah, I wanna apologize to you in the shower, in our bed, fuck even the balcony.” The two of you ran for the exit door. “It's a good thing that the restaurant you picked out is known for the aphrodisiac desserts.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oooh, sweetie,” Satoru sneered down at you with a mischievous chuckle.“Why do you think I kept bugging you to take me to that restaurant?”

It was going to be a very long night for you.

Nanami Kento:

“Damn!” The soft curse woke you up; you rubbed your eyes, watching your fiancè searching for something on the dresser.

“Kento?” Your groggy voice drew his attention towards you. “Welcome home.”

Your beloved fiance had been gone for two weeks. He'd just gotten home last night; Gojo had picked him up for you. You had been working your ass off for the previous two weeks. You picked up the work of another co-worker who had just walked out without notice. Gojo knew you had been running around for two weeks filing paperwork, assigning missions, and helping Shoko. He was instant on you getting some sleep. He assured you he'd get Nanami, and you were thankful for him doing that for you.

This way, you could spend more time with Kento.

“Where are my cufflinks?” Nanako snapped, his eyes full of annoyance.

His tone had you blinking in stunned silence. “Right there,” you motioned to the box he always kept them in, “was your mission rough?” That would explain his cold, sharp tone.

“Yes, Y/N, it was rough.” He opened the box, grabbing the links before slamming it shut. “You wouldn't understand.”

His words sliced through you like a hot knife. “Excuse me?” You three the sheets off your body, standing to face him. “What the hell do you mean I wouldn't understand?!” Nanami Kento rolled his eyes at your anger.

“I'm simply stating the truth. You don't understand what it's like to go out on missions, fight, and do more than paperwork.” His hand ran through his still-damp hair. “So I'm just trying to understand why you couldn't pick me up last night. Gojo told me that you were burning the candle at both ends. I fail to see how that is even possible.”

The bedroom was nearly silent. The only sound that you could hear over the boiling rage was your heartbeat in your ears. “Get out of my way.” Was all you could manage as you pushed past him, digging through your drawers for clothes.

“Honestly, why are you acting like a child?”

“Why are you acting like a dick?!” Nanako was seconds from snapping back, but his words evaded him when he saw you crying. “You have no idea how hard my job is!” Your hands wiped uselessly at the stream of tears. “My worthless coworker quit. So I'm stuck doing my job and hers!”

“Y/N.”

“Yes! I do loads of paperwork, and I sit in front of a computer most of my day.” You pulled on your pants, stepping out of Nanami’s grasp. “It may not be physically demanding, but in a mental aspect, I'm drained. Paperwork, mission assignments, and death notices!” Honey-brown eyes went wide. “Yeah, that's why my coworker quit! She couldn't handle it!”

“Love, I—”

You held a hand up, silencing Nanami. “So last night, Gojo picked you up instead of me because I was in Kyoto. Telling a mother and father that their eighteen-year-old son died!” Flashes of Yu Haibara flashed through Nanami’s eyes.

He could barely handle his death, imagining what his parents went through. When someone in your position told them that their child was gone, he couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Emotionally and mentally draining. He had no idea how much your job consisted of because you hardly brought it up. More concerned with him.

“Y/N, I had no clue—”

“No, fuck you.” You turned on your heel, racing for the door. “Welcome home! Kindly go fuck yourself.” With those words, you left, leaving Nanami alone in your apartment.

It took you a couple of hours to cry out your feelings. The exhaustion and stress of the last two weeks hit you all at once with Nanami’s cruel words. He had no clue what you went through without him here. It didn't matter if he was just as exhausted as you were. Both of you had been ground to bones in two weeks apart.

Despite all of those factors, he still had no right to talk to you the way he had.

But as much as you wanted to stay away from him, your apartment, reality, you had to go back. Your engagement ring glimmered as a stupid reminder, even if he had crossed a line today. Nanami was still the love of your life.

The second you unlocked the door to the apartment, you sighed. “I'm home.” Your voice was barely audible.

Just as you finished removing your shoes, you looked up to see Nanami. His cheeks and neck flushed as he looked at the floor. Your fiance looked like a dog that had been scolded, as he should. Despite wanting to throw yourself into his arms and cry out your frustration, to hit, to beg him to hold you tight, you just walked past him.

Entering your living room, your heart lurched into your throat as you gasped. A large bouquet of roses is on your coffee table, surrounded by all your favorite snacks. The words ‘I’m Sorry’ were spelled in rose petals on the floor.

You had thought you were incapable of crying anymore, yet fresh tears spilled over your tear-stained cheeks. Nanami’s body looked over you, his hands hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. To Nanami’s relief, you didn't attempt to pull away.

“Y/N, I'm so, so, sorry.” you leaned back into his chest, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “The way that I acted this morning was utterly disgusting. I took my frustration and anger out on you, the last person I should ever hurt.” His fingers began kneading and rubbing at your sore muscles. “Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? For being an irrational ass?”

”A major ass.” Nanami’s whole body relaxed at your soft voice.

He turned you around to face him, his strong arms holding you flush against him. “Yes, a total and complete asshole.” Once your arms wrapped around his waist, he fully relaxed. ”Are you okay?” His smooth voice whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, I just want you.”

Pulling away to look up at him, he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. “Yeah? Do you need me to help you fall asleep?” His hand trailed down, gripping your hips. Your nod was the only confirmation he needed.

Sprawled out over the bed, candles burning, soft music playing, you gasped and whimpered. Nanami’s face was buried between your thighs, kissing and sucking at your drenched folds. Those honey-brown eyes that had been filled with concern and worry earlier were now drowning in lust. His needs could wait until later. This was all about you, making you feel better.

”Fuck Ken!” Your fingers grazed over his undercut before gripping the longer strands of hair. “Don’t stop, please, fuck.” Obeying your wishes, Kento’s tongue moved faster. Sucking and slurping at you. Quenching the thirst he had been craving for the last two weeks. “Yes, yes, yes!’

Feeling your cunt clenching, Kento shoved two fingers inside of you, his tongue focusing on your clit. You gasped, eyes wide as his two fingers rubbed expertly against your g-spot. You swore he nearly sent you to heaven as white spots flooded your vision. You screamed before squirting all over his face. The sensation, the taste of your cum had him rutting his hips into the mattress. His tongue did not once let up. It was your orgasm, the content sigh that left your lips that had him stiffening. His cock spurting cum all within the confines of his boxers and sweats.

Your dazy eyes trailed down over your nude body, focusing on Kento’s rutting form. Humping the mattress until the last waves of both of your orgasms came to an end. Kento hummed, his voice vibrated against your still trembling pussy. When he found the strength to pull away, You smiled as he trailed soft kisses up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest before finally landing on your lips.

You kiss back softly, his arms pulling you close as he pulls you to lay on his chest. His hands gently caressed up and down your back, a slight frown gracing his face. “Ken,” you kiss his chest, “it’s fine. Please don’t worry about it anymore.” His eyes glanced at you before back at the ceiling, his fingers never once pausing.

“I know, I just, I didn’t know your job consisted of so much.” His eyes shut tight, eyebrows scrunching together. “You do all those reports, help Shoko, inform families of deaths, and on top of that, you take care of our home.”

His words from over, repeated over and over, on a loop. Just a desk job? You didn’t know what he went through. When it was the other way around, he didn’t know what you went through daily. His words were cold and cruel. All because he had taken his exhaustion and frustration out on you. The most important person in his life.

Your slender finger gently rubbed up and down the bridge of his nose. Grounding him, pulling him out of the deep void of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he was met with your glimmering Y/E/C eyes. Your sleepy gaze and gentle smile had his heart clenching in his chest.

”Ken, it’s okay. You didn’t know, much like I don’t know about all of the struggles you go through.” Your gentle touch had him relaxing against the mattress. “Let’s just agree not to downplay each other again. We both work hard, every day, to make this life for us to share.” Slowly pulling your hand away, you leaned up, kissing his lips. “As long as we come home to each other at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Kento smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Y/N.” Your warm, tired smile had him melting. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, Kento.” You whispered against his lips.

Ryomen Sukuna:

You loved your boyfriend, really you did. But for the last week, he’d been almost insufferable. His younger brother Yuuji was on Spring break. His best friend Megumi had invited him to join him and his family for the week on the beach. Sukuna all but packed Yuuji’s bags for him, ushering the twerp out of the apartment before locking it up, heading to spend the week with you.

It was like his own personal spring break away from his brothers.

Which also was the start of a week from hell for you. At first, the weekend was lovely. The two of you stayed in, had crazy, animalistic sex, and just enjoyed each other. But when Monday rolled around and you left for work, things took a turn.

You came home to find Sukuna’s clothes all around the room, the dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and he was snoring on the couch. At first, you were upset. The poor guy was raising his young brother while their other brother, Choso, was on vacation with some college friends. Sukuna truly did bust his ass for his brothers, so it made sense that he was beat.

So you let it go, picked up, washed the dishes, and made the two of you dinner. It had been somewhat annoying, but it was alright. You wanted to make sure Sukuna got as much rest as he could before he went back to work the following week.

Tuesday afternoon, you came home to a similar situation: clothes everywhere, dishes in the sink, only Sukuna had just returned from the gym. When he got home, he started helping you before taking a shower. Maybe he had just been so interested in getting to the gym that he forgot to do the dishes. That sort of thing happened when you were in a rush, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But when you got home today, it was the same damn story. You looked around the apartment, groaning out loud as Sukuna scrolled briefly through Netflix. There were empty soda cans, trash, and, of course, his gym clothes all over the floor. This was not the man you knew.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your sharp tone had him turning in your direction. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch on Netflix?” He raised an eyebrow as if it wasn’t obvious what he was doing.

“I can see that!” You scrubbed a hand over your face. “I meant all the trash, clothes, and everything!”

“Oooh,” he looked around the apartment, “I’ll get to it.”

You tugged at your hair with an exasperated groan. “That’s not the point! Why are you trashing the place to begin with?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“So?!” Your tone had his full attention now. “When I have a day off, I don’t trash your place.”

Sukuna pinched at the bridge of his nose with a grumble. “Are we seriously going to fight about this?” He narrowed his gaze at you, those eyes you normally adored full of irritation. Irritation that had no right to even be there!

“Yes, we are! How is it fair that I make us breakfast, go to work, come home, and make dinner? On top of that, you expect me to come home and pick up your trash and clothes?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.” The answer that came out of his mouth far faster than you thought. “I mean, that’s your job. It’s what you’re good at.” Sukuna rolled a shoulder as he twirled the remote between his fingers. “I exercise spirits, and you—“ He finally turned, seeing the rage and darkening of your cheeks. “You—are good at caring for the house and cooking.”

Oh, he’d fucked up.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you scoffed and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door. Sukuna winced and turned his head to face your room. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words. He had meant to say, well, that you were a good caretaker, wifey material. Now that he was looking around the room, truly taking in the state of your usually well-kept home, your words were beginning to settle in his gut.

Had he been that lazy and messy? The take-out containers, his gym clothes, and empty cans confirmed that, yes, he had. Ever since his brothers left, he didn’t have to move constantly. He didn’t have to take Yuuji to school, helping Choso with homework. He had time to himself, where he didn’t have to ensure everything was in tip-top shapes. This was a chance for him to mellow out and relax.

He’d wanted to spend this mellow time with you, his girlfriend, the most amazing woman he’d ever met. But instead, he’d gotten lazy, stuck in a rut of not having to do such a damn thing. This wasn’t how he normally acted, so why now? Fuck, and to tell you you were nothing but a maid, that it was your job. Yeah, no, he totally fucked up.

You were his girlfriend, partner, and the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Most of his other partners hadn’t been able to handle the fact he was a single dad. He had raised his two brothers, just the three against the world. But you, god, you were an angel. You helped him out, making dinners and teaching him the best ways to cook and stir certain foods, which grocery stores had the best sales. You had made him a better man, a better brother.

And he’d gone and turned himself into a shitty boyfriend, trashing your apartment, making misogynistic comments, hurting you. He had to fix this. Or he might very well end up losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Without a second thought, he got up, executing his plan.

You needed an hour and a half to yourself before you had completely calmed down. You glanced at your reflection, whipping at your tear-stained cheeks before entering the living room. All you needed to do was grab something to eat and go back to bed. When you walked out into the messy living room, you stopped.

The trashed room scattered with clothes was completely picked up, and the coasters and books were neatly put back into place. Sukuna was nowhere to be found. So you headed into the kitchen, which was also spotless. No crumbs were on the counters, and the dishes had been cleaned and put away. There was still no sign of Sukuna.

Part of you was still angry and didn’t want to see him. The other part of you wanted to thank him and hear what he had to say. Just as you were pulling your phone out to call him, your door opened. Sukuna stepped in with a bag of takeout. He took his shoes off, placing them where they were supposed to go before he locked the door.

“Suku?” He jumped, startled by your voice. But he slowly turned to you, giving you a remorseful smile.

“Hey,” he put the takeout on the counter, “Y/N, I—“ his cheeks flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You know I’m not the best with apologies, and I suck at fucking using my words.” With a heavy sigh, he grabbed your hand. “But what I said earlier was fucked up, and I’m sorry. I don’t see you as some maid, I just.” You couldn’t help but smile as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want you ever to feel like I don’t appreciate everything you do. You’ve made me a better man, and I unfortunately haven’t been like that this week.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement as you interlaced your fingers with his. “Yeah, you’ve been a manchild. Yuuji would have been more mature than you.” He cringed, dropping his head down. “Then again, you did clean up your mess and pick me some dinner.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “So maybe you haven’t been as bad as you think.” Sukuna was leaning in to kiss you, but you squeezed his hand tighter and tighter until it was almost painful. “But if you ever tell me it’s my job to take care of you or the chores again, I’ll put you in my trunk and help people look for you.”

Your boyfriend winced before nodding in understanding. “Right, yes, understood.” The second your hand softened, he pulled you towards the bedroom. “Come on.” You blushed, watching his back. His neck was a soft, rosy color.

“What are we doing?”

“You’re not doing anything.” He said, pushing you back against the bed. “I’m going to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Oh, and Sukuna did just that. He licked and sucked on your clit until you came. His fingers slammed in and out of you, fucking you until you squirted all over his hand. His smirk was sinister and hungry each time you came. Only when you were fucked out of your mind did he decide to fuck you with his cock.

“Please~ please, Suku~” You panted as he rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance. “Please.”

“Why are you begging?” He grunted as he slid his entire length into you. “You want my cock that bad.” He smirked at your tiny whimpers, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Yes, yes, I want it.” You grabbed his hand, and he went to hold it, only to watch as you placed it over your throat. “Give it to me.” You felt his cock throb inside of you.

He squeezed without having to be told twice. “Such a dirty slut I have.” He squeezed harder as he pulled out. “Here I’m trying to be romantic.” He slammed into you, the bed creaking under the force. “And my slutty little Y/N wants me to fuck her pussy like I normally do.” You whimpered, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s the best way to show you how much you mean to me, right? Fuckin’ that tight cunt until you can’t walk. Making sure you’re ruined, only I can satisfy you and your needs.” He grabbed your thighs, pressing them to your chest, forcing you into a mating press.

“K-Kuna!” You cried out as he released your throat, his hands fisting the sheets.

“That’s right, scream my fuckin’ name.” He groaned, pressing a searing kiss against your swollen lips. “Scream it, let everyone know how much your boyfriend appreciates you, how good he fucks you.”

His words, the deep thrusts, and your already sensitive pussy clenched. “I-I’m so close.” You cried out, eyes locked on Sukuna’s.

His hips sped up, cock throbbing hard as he growled. “Go on then, cum for me again.” You screamed as he slammed harder and harder into you, sending you over the edge. Your screams were muffled by Sukuna’s growls as he kissed you desperately, fucking you through your orgasm right into his own.

He stilled, lips pressing harder against you as his hit cum filled you. Your soft whines of pleasure had Sukuna’s hips moving slowly until he was sure your pussy was done milking him. Pulling back, Sukuna panted, smirking at the blissed-out look in your eyes—a look he always wanted to see.

“Love you, Suku.” You breathed out, leaning up and kissing him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. But his large hand cupped your face.

“And I love you and everything you do for me.” Without another word, his lips were on yours, his hips slowly rutting against yours. He intended to make you know just how much you meant to him. Even if that meant you’d have to call out of work tomorrow.

[elia-the-bibliophile]

The Fast Lane to Fashion (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 3,1k

The one where Max’s manager hired a personal stylist for him.

Max squatted on the floor, his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, lounging nearby with the kind of indifference only felines can muster. Max, however, was determined. “Come on, Jimmy, you can do it,” he encouraged, holding out a treat like it was the Holy Grail. Jimmy blinked, his eyes half-closed, clearly contemplating more important things—like napping. Sassy, on the other hand, stretched luxuriously and let out a yawn that seemed to mock Max's efforts.

He had spent the last two hours trying to get them to high-five him, but his attempts were as futile. “This is hopeless,” Max muttered under his breath.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, his phone rang, shattering the atmosphere. He glanced at the caller ID—Raymond, his manager. With a sigh, he accepted the call and put it on speaker, still waving the treat in front of Jimmy's nose.

“Hey, Raymond, what's up?” Max greeted, his attention split between the phone and his uncooperative pets.

Raymond's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding unusually jittery. “Max, buddy, don't be mad, okay? Just hear me out first,” he began, words tumbling out like they were in a race of their own.

Max raised an eyebrow, casting a bemused glance at Jimmy, who had finally acknowledged his presence with a slow blink. “Yea, sure. What's going on?” he replied, curiosity piqued.

“I, uh, well, I've hired someone for you,” Raymond confessed, his tone hesitant.

Max blinked, momentarily forgetting about his feline training. “Hired someone? For what?” he asked, his mind racing through all the possibilities.

Raymond took a deep breath before blurting out, “A stylist, Max. I've hired a stylist for you.”

Max's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the phone. “A stylist? You've got to be kidding me, Raymond,” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Why on earth would I need a stylist?”

Raymond let out a nervous laugh. “Well, you know, Max, there have been some… memes about your fashion choices. People are starting to wonder if that Red Bull polo is surgically attached to you!”

Max scoffed loudly. “Seriously? People think I have zero fashion sense just because I like to keep things simple?” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Raymond cleared his throat, relieved that Max wasn't outright furious. “Well, yeah. Something like that,” he admitted.

“What does it matter what I wear when I'm winning races left and right?” Max protested, his incredulity evident. “I mean, come on, mate. This is ridiculous.”

Raymond tried to soothe him. “I get it, Max, I really do. But image matters, surely it wouldn't hurt to switch things up a bit, you know?”

Max sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Fine, fine,” he relented begrudgingly. “But I'm not promising anything. And if this stylist suggests I wear anything other than comfortable clothes, I'm out.”

Raymond chuckled, sensing Max's reluctance but appreciating his willingness. “Fair enough, Max. Just give it a chance, okay? Who knows, maybe you'll discover a whole new side to your wardrobe.”

Max rolled his eyes, unconvinced. “Yeah, sure, Raymond. A whole new side of my wardrobe that consists of more Red Bull polos,” he quipped sarcastically.

Max sighed, turning back to his unimpressed feline companions. “Can you believe this, Jimmy? Sassy?” he addressed them as if they were humans. “A stylist. For me. It's like Raymond has lost his mind.”

Jimmy blinked lazily, utterly unconcerned, while Sassy stretched out and emitted a soft purr.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of Max's lips. “Sometimes, you know, I wish I was just a cat like you two,” he mused aloud, watching as they continued to bask in their simple, carefree existence.

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N sat in the waiting room at the Energy Station, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She glanced around, taking in the impressive display of trophies adorning the walls—each gleaming trophy a reminder of Red Bull's dominance on the tracks. The sheer number of them made her feel like she was sitting in a shrine.

This was her first meeting with Max, and the anticipation was practically electrifying. She stole a quick glance at her reflection in a nearby mirror, adjusting her hair and smoothing down her outfit once more. It wasn't every day that she was called in to style a world-class athlete, and the pressure to make a good impression was almost suffocating.

She was acutely aware of the challenge ahead. Raymond had drilled her on the importance of not scaring Max away with any extravagant fashion suggestions. After all, Max was rarely seen in anything other than his team's merchandise, and the last thing Y/N wanted was to make him uncomfortable and lose her job on the very first day.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as a woman in a Red Bull shirt approached her. “Ms. Y/N L/N?” the woman inquired, her voice friendly. “Mr. Verstappen is ready to see you now.”

Y/N nodded, her nerves tingling with anticipation as she quickly rose from her seat. “Thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The woman offered her a reassuring smile before gesturing towards a door at the end of the hallway. “Right this way,” she said, leading Y/N with practiced ease.

As they approached the door, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for the encounter that awaited her on the other side. With a final reassuring nod from the woman, Y/N squared her shoulders and stepped through the doorway.

She sent a quick prayer that Max wouldn’t be too hard on her.

════════════════════════════════════

Max drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, boredom creeping in as he contemplated making a swift exit for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. Despite his mercurial nature, he prided himself on his manners, so he resisted the urge, albeit begrudgingly.

As the door creaked open, Max glanced up with a practiced poker face, giving nothing away. His gaze met the hopeful expression of the woman entering the room, her smile wide and optimistic.

“So, Y/N L/N, who exactly hired you?” was the first thing Max inquired, his tone laced with skepticism as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, let's just say I went through quite a long interview process," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “Raymond, then Horner after that, and lastly, believe it or not, even Geri had a say in it.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “All that just to hire a stylist for me?” he echoed, unable to hide his surprise.

Y/N nodded, chuckling softly. “They were very thorough. I guess they wanted to make sure you wouldn't bolt at the first sight of a new wardrobe.”

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. “Well, they got that right. I'm not exactly known for my adventurous fashion choices.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, her tone light and reassuring. “I promise not to suggest anything outrageous. No sequins or feather boas, I swear.”

Max snorted. “Good. Because the day I wear a feather boa is the day I retire from racing.”

Y/N laughed, the tension easing a little. “Deal. Let’s start with something simple. Maybe a t-shirt that’s not branded with Red Bull? Or a straight jeans?”

Max pretended to think it over, stroking his chin. “I suppose I could handle that,” he said. “As long as it’s comfortable.”

“Comfort is key,” Y/N agreed, feeling more at ease. “We’ll keep it simple. I’m here to help, not to turn you into a fashion icon overnight.”

Max relaxed a bit, appreciating her straightforward approach. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. But remember, if I don’t like it, it’s back to polos and hoodies.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N said, her smile brightening. “I’ll take my chances.”

Max then stood up and walked over to her, extending his hand with a cocky grin. “Max Verstappen,” he said, his tone playful but confident. “If you manage to impress me, then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider keeping you on the team.”

Y/N shook his hand, matching his grin. “Challenge accepted. But I should warn you, I don’t do half-measures.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, really? Well, let’s see if you can handle the challenge. I’m not exactly easy to impress.”

Y/N chuckled. “I’ve heard. But I’m not exactly easy to scare off, either.”

Max laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room.

Y/N playfully raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, I think this will be my easiest gig yet, considering the bar is practically on the floor,” she said, her tone teasing.

Max's eyes widened in surprise before he hunched forward, laughter bursting out of him. “Oh, you’ve got no filter, do you?” he said between laughs. “I fucking like that.”

She shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Max straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You know what? If this fails, screw it, I’ll just sign you on as my personal entertainer or something. Keep the team’s spirits up.”

Y/N chuckled. “Careful, Max. I might just take you up on that.”

He crossed his arms, his grin not fading. “Hey, a good laugh is priceless in this sport. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily. Because I’ve got high standards, you know. World champion standards.”

Y/N laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. But don’t worry, I’ve styled worse. Much worse.”

Max's eyes sparkled. “Worse than me? Now that’s something I’ve got to hear.”

════════════════════════════════════

Y/N balanced a stack of freshly laundered clothes in her arms as she approached Max's apartment. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Knocking on the door, she prepared herself. The door swung open to reveal Max, looking casual in yet another Red Bull polo.

“Hey, Y/N. Come on in,” he greeted with a nod while holding the door for her.

“Thanks, Max,” she replied, stepping inside and carefully setting the clothes down on a nearby table.

Before she could even turn around, she felt a light brush against her leg. Glancing down, she saw Jimmy rubbing against her with a purr, while Sassy sat nearby, her wide eyes fixed on Y/N with an unusual interest.

Max’s jaw dropped. “What the hell? They usually hate strangers. They’re acting like you’re made of catnip or something.”

Y/N laughed, bending down to scratch Jimmy behind the ears. “I have a way with cats. Maybe they can sense I’m here to help you.”

Max shook his head, still looking baffled. “Unbelievable. They’ve never been this friendly with anyone. Alright, come on, let me show you the infamous closet.”

Y/N followed Max down a hallway, Jimmy and Sassy trotting behind them like loyal sidekicks. They reached a door, and Max swung it open, revealing a walk-in closet that could easily rival a small boutique. Shelves lined the walls, each one meticulously stacked with Red Bull merchandise in every form imaginable—polos, t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, caps, even socks.

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wow,” she said, turning to look at Max like he was a lunatic. “This is… impressive. And slightly concerning. I didn’t know you could own this much team gear.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah, well, I like to keep things simple. Plus, they’re comfortable.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Simple is one thing, Max. This is an obsession. But don’t worry, I’m here to bring a little variety into your life.”

Max crossed his arms, grinning. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got then. But I’m warning you, if it’s not comfortable, it’s going straight back in the bag.”

“Challenge accepted,” Y/N said, her eyes gleaming with determination. She turned back to the stack of clothes she had brought and started laying them out, presenting each piece. “Okay, first up, a simple white t-shirt. No logos, just pure comfort. Try it on.”

Max took the shirt, giving it a skeptical look before slipping it on. He stretched his arms, testing the fit. “Okay, I admit, it’s comfortable. What else?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Next, a pair of dark jeans. Classic, versatile, and they miraculously manage to make even a Red Bull polo look halfway decent.”

She glanced at Max, who was eyeing the jeans with a hint of skepticism. “And don’t worry, Max, I made sure they’re not the skinny jeans you seem to love so much. I couldn’t bear to put you—or anyone else—through that kind of fashion torture.”

Max grabbed the jeans and ducked into the bathroom to change. When he came back out, Y/N couldn’t help but beam. He looked good—casual but put together, like someone who actually cared about his appearance.

Max glanced at himself in the mirror and nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Not bad at all. What’s next?”

Y/N pulled out a light gray hoodie. “For when you need an extra layer but want to avoid looking like a walking billboard.”

Max slipped it on, zipping it up halfway. “Okay, I’m impressed. You’ve managed to find things that are comfortable and look good. Maybe you do have some magic up your sleeve.”

Y/N laughed. “Told you. Now, let’s talk about adding some color to your wardrobe?”

Max shrugged. “As long as it’s not neon, I’m open to it.”

Y/N grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got just the thing.” She pulled out a maroon half-zip, soft and stylish. “Try this on.”

Max took it, and as he changed, Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction. This was just the beginning, but she could already see the transformation. And judging by the approving look on Max’s face, he could see it too.

“Well, Y/N, I have to say, you’ve done the impossible. You’ve actually managed to impress me,” Max admitted, his tone light but genuine.

Y/N gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. But we’re just getting started. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be turning heads both on and off the track.”

Max rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of excitement in his expression that even he cannot hide.

════════════════════════════════════

Max had just stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist as he reached for his phone. The bathroom was filled with steam, giving the air a hazy quality as he scrolled through Instagram.

As he scrolled, his eyes widened in disbelief. There it was, a photo of him in that plain white shirt and the jeans that didn’t look like they were about to tear at the wrong move. The caption read, "Is this real life? Max Verstappen spotted in a non-Red Bull polo, and it’s not even race day! Miracles do happen, folks."

Comments flooded in faster than he could read them all. Some were filled with disbelief, while others were downright ecstatic. "I thought I’d never see the day!" one user exclaimed. "This is like witnessing the rebirth of a man," another commented.

Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions. But there were also theories floating around. "Is Max hiding a new girlfriend from us?" one person speculated. "This has got to be the girlfriend effect," another chimed in. "Or maybe Red Bull has finally hired someone to ransack his closet," someone else joked.

Maybe this whole wardrobe makeover wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And if it meant keeping people guessing, well, that was just an added bonus.

He then scrolled through the messages, which has been buzzing incessantly with notifications.

A text from Charles popped up:

“Hey Max, just saw the photos. Are you alright, mate? Should we send help?”

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the concern in Charles’ message. Then another text came in, this time from Lando:

“Mate, what's going on with the sudden style upgrade?🤔😧 Is Horner holding you hostage or something?”

He typed out a quick reply to both Charles and Lando, assuring them that he was perfectly fine and that there was no need to send a rescue team. As for Horner's involvement, he simply responded with a string of laughing emojis, leaving the mystery of his wardrobe transformation to fuel their imaginations.

════════════════════════════════════

The next week, Max arrived at the Energy Station, still amused by the ongoing chatter about his newfound fashion sense. As he stepped through the door, he was immediately greeted by Horner and Geri, who wore matching expressions of excitement.

“There he is! Congratulations!” Horner exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "The reactions to your new look are absolutely fantastic. People can't stop talking about it!"

Geri's eyes practically sparkled with delight as she enveloped Max in a warm hug. “Oh, Max, I can't tell you how thrilled I am!” she gushed. “You look absolutely fabulous today, dear. That half zip and linen pants combo? Simply divine! Y/N has worked wonders on you.”

Max couldn't help but grin sheepishly at Geri's praise. He glanced down at his outfit, feeling a little self-conscious under the spotlight. “Thanks, Geri,” he replied. “I'm glad you think so.”

Horner nodded enthusiastically. “The fans are loving it, the media is eating it up—this is exactly the kind of attention we need.”

Just then, a group of Red Bull mechanics walked by, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in Max's outfit. “Whoa, that Max?” one of them whispered to his colleague. “Shit, I didn't even recognize him at first without the Red Bull gear.”

It seemed his fashion makeover was causing quite the stir, even among his own team.

Geri beamed at Max. “I've been thinking,” she began. “Maybe we should really consider keeping Y/N around. What do you say?”

He glanced at Horner, who was also watching him expectantly.

After a moment of consideration, Max let out a hearty laugh. “Well, I have to admit Y/N does have a talent for making me look presentable,” he quipped, earning a laugh from Horner. “I wouldn't mind having her stick around.”

Geri clapped her hands together in delight. “I'll talk to Raymond about making it official.”

════════════════════════════════════

That night Max lounged on his couch, his legs stretched out in front of him as he stared at his phone. The excitement of the day hadn't worn off yet, and he was eager to see if Y/N had any news about her contract.

His thumbs danced over the screen as he typed out a message.

“Hey Y/N, have you heard back from Raymond about your contract?”

He barely had time to set his phone down before it buzzed with a reply.

“Not yet, but I'm hopeful! What made you change your mind about keeping me around?”

What made him change his mind indeed?

He hadn't really thought about it, but now that he did, it was clear as day. With a grin, he tapped out his response.

“I guess I just realized that I need someone like you around.”

He replied, his fingers flying across the screen then he hit send.