#max lord fanfiction

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 8th

Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds. 

You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived. 

When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in. 

Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner. 

His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?

Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to. 

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone. 

“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously. 

“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.” 

You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate. 

“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously. 

“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face. 

Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”

“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!” 

Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass. 

The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life. 

“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning. 

“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you. 

You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt. 

He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes. 

You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him. 

His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up  your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down. 

It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits. 

Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth. 

Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between. 

Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust. 

He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are. 

Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. 

Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.” 

You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy. 

Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before. 

“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top. 

Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab. 

“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.” 

Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?” 

“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.” 

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord ww84

[perotovar]

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ezra prospect fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus moreno fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord fanfiction #javi gutierrez fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #swfe #recs #fics

[iamasaddie]

DEAR FIC WRITERS (and readers)

Please, this is important!

I have a severe Max Lord brainrot today and if you have (or if you know of) a fic where Max is either Dom or just on a dominant side PLEASE rec them to me or tag me in them 🙏🏻

begging on my knees kissing both your cheeks

love,

aly

#pedro pascal fanfiction #max lord x you #max lord x reader #max lord x female reader #max lord fanfiction #ww84 fanfiction

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Cee, you know I gotta send a boy to Shiv’s Apocalypse Salon, and I would love to know what she’d do with…Maxwell Lord!

(Is the bleach blond gone? Is it still king? How does he want it now? How would Frankie react to him? The world needs to know!)

LJ! Thank you for sending Max in to the salon! I honestly don’t know what this is, I guess it can only be described as a crack fic 😂 The best lines in this drabble were written by you, so thank you 😉

Shiv's salon: Max Lord

430 words | warnings: crack fic, swearing, TLOU AU, don’t take this too seriously it’s all in good fun 😂

'Fuck right off.'

The man who introduced himself as Max Lord flashes his teeth in an insufferably wide grin (who has teeth this white anymore in a world like this?) and turns to Frankie. 'Is that how she usually talks to customers?'

You roll your eyes. 'We're in a fucking apocalypse, I'm not dyeing your hair. You get a great cut but that’s it.' You jerk a thumb in Frankie's direction. 'Ask the other guy.'

With a shrug, Frankie confirms, 'Yeah, she wouldn’t dye mine either and that was before all this.'

Undeterred, Max presses on, running what looks like a manicured hand (seriously, what the actual fuck) through his too long but neatly side-parted fringe. 'I'll pay you. Handsomely.'

'How much?'

Your eyes widen at the pack of ration cards the man produces from the inside pocket of his suspiciously clean jacket. Even Frankie perks up - it will set you up for months.

You sniff suspiciously. 'Why are you paying me this much? You want me to do weird sex shit to you while I dye your hair or something?'

You're not sure who looks more horrified by the suggestion - Frankie or Max. The latter shakes head adamantly. 'No! Look, I hear you're the best in the QZ. Will you do it or not?'

You narrow your eyes skeptically. 'Seriously, who the fuck are you?'

Max sighs, putting his hands up as if in surrender. 'Alright, I wanted to keep this all low-key, but since you asked.'

Taking a deep breath, Max seems to put on a whole new persona, as if shrugging on a coat. You have to jump backwards to avoid the index finger that he points aggressively in your face, two rows of tidy teeth on full display in a megawatts grin. 'Life is good - but it can be better.'

Five seconds of perfect, expectant silence stretches on as you turn slowly to meet Frankie's equally puzzled gaze as Max holds his position.

Then you shrug. This is hardly the weirdest encounter you've had since the world ended and mushrooms started eating people. Might as well make a tidy sum out of it.

You nod towards the single styling station in the corner, which you insisted Frankie load onto his truck the night everything went to shit.

Suddenly, your fingers tingle at the prospect of bleach and hair dye. Something stirs in your chest - something long forgotten -

Is it - joy?

The swivel chair squeaks as Max settles into it and it takes you right back. To your salon. Before all this.

You grin at his reflection. ‘Alright then. Let’s get you prettied up, shall we?’

#fuckyeah1200sleepover #shiv’s salon #max lord fanfiction #maxwell lord #queue

[simpingcowboy]

We're Still Here

Pairings: Max Lord x GN!POC!Reader, established relationship, no use of Y/N, racial background is purposefully left ambiguous but please let me know if it does not read as such!

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: Angsty comfort fic, racial trauma (implied that things were said to reader though nothing explicit), disassociation, feelings of dread and alienization, cultural food as a comfort (only descriptor given is that is has a distinct smell), Max being egregious with Spanish petnames

Summary: When the weight of racial prejudice becomes too much Max is there to help you hold it.

A/N: Truthfully I'm a bit nervous posting this. This is very reflective of my own experience and how I deal with such situations. I wrote it primarily for myself, but I hope others can find comfort in it as well <3

"I'm home!" Max calls out to you. He shrugs the suit jacket from his shoulders, and abandons his shoes at the door. Your lack of response catches him off guard. "Baby?" He calls once more.

As he approaches the living room, he's disturbed by the overwhelming silence. Then, he sees you. Curled up tightly on his favorite recliner, tucked under a blanket. A look on your face that makes his heart break.

"Ay mi amor." He says with a sigh…

He knew that look in your eyes. A look he's worn many times himself. A look of anger. Of despair. Of embarrassment. Of a great intangible sorrow. One that weighed more than all the riches of the world combined.

Max rushes to your side, kneeling beside you, "What happened?"

The silence is deafening in his ears. He knows, there's nothing to be said. In a strange way, the specifics of it didn't really matter. What happened had passed. Whatever it was, had already burrowed itself so deep in your heart there was no removing it. But that does not mean, he couldn't help you hold it.

"Come to me." Max wraps his arms tight around you, enclosing you in his warmth. "You don't have to tell me…but I am here to help. You're safe now."

You let yourself melt into his arms. Burrowing your tear stained cheeks into his neck. A faint scent of cologne still lingers on his collar. Though fear still rips through you with every movement, you begin to allow yourself to feel safe. A tingle of regret at your own lack of response…but what was there to say? To speak the words back into the world would only taint your tongue with that bitter flavor. Maybe once your body recovers from the shock. Maybe after the rage settles like dust after a sandstorm. Maybe after that burn in your heart was soothed to a low ache. Maybe then you'd be able to say. For now all you could do was feel.

Max holds you, rubbing your back. Wiping your tears. Sprinkling soft kisses across your face. Spilling words of affirmation and admiration like a fountain.

"Mi amor…

mi cielo

I know it hurts

I love you

Todo mi mundo

Estrelita

You're perfect

You matter

Te amo."

Despite the confidence of his proclamations, Max felt at his core helpless. There was no amount of riches that could help. No gift. Nor trip. Even a party in your honor, would be meaningless as long as your heart remained fractured. All he could do was wait with you. Holding your hand through the darkness.

Hours pass with little progress. The sun passing overhead. Max remains at your side. Only abandoning you to fetch you cups of water which you reluctantly drink. His large hand resting over your stomach, doesn't miss the light rumble of hunger.

"Bebita?" He pleads, "You should eat something."

You shake your head meekly, intent on not meeting his gaze. "Not hungry."

"Ay mi corazon…" Max pouts up at you, his gaze softening. "I know something that will help. Let me." He sits up momentarily, quick to dial up a familiar number on his cellphone. Walking over to the farside of the room and whispering indiscernible words to the person on the other end. Before returning back to your side. "Your surprise will be here soon." He says with a soft smile.

"Max I don't -"

"Let me help you, mi amor." He says firmly, delivering a comforting kiss to your nose. "I'll always take care of you."

You let him wrap himself around you, your own personal shield from the world. Guarding you from all the hurt that exists outside the walls of your shared home. But you were safe here. Always safe here. Always loved here. Time passes, as you two watch the sun melt into the city skyline, just as your worldly worries slowly melt away in his presence.

A faint scent lingers in the air. Drafting you in a sense of home. It's subtle at first. Igniting vague memories of a lighter existence. Then building. Deeper. Richer. Prouder. The scent coiling in your stomach and making you ache with a sudden hunger.

"Max? That smell, is that-"

A soft smile on his face, he answers "Yes, Estrellita. Your favorite."

Another tear springs from your eyes, this time not of sorrow but from an overfill of love. You were unsure of exactly when the cook had made their way into the kitchen, but at this moment you could not care less. "You mean-?"

He nods, "It's your surprise!" His arms squeeze around you in a tight hug. "You deserve it, Mi corazon."

"Max…" you murmur his name, burying your head into the crook of his neck. Rubbing your cheek against the softened collar of his shirt. A soft ring is heard from the kitchen, the telltale sign that dinner is ready to be served.

Max wraps his hands around yours, luring you up off the seat. "Come mi amor." He says softly, guiding you to the kitchen.

Though the weight of the world still sat heavy upon your figure, that familiar aroma emboldened you with each step closer. Max seats you at the table wanting to serve it to you himself. He plates a considerable portion, knowing that you had been denying yourself most of the day.

"Mi estrellita" Max beckons you, drawing your eyes to him. "This is all for you." He says as he sets the dish before you. The sight of which brings a stinging tear to your eye. The aromas alone fill you with a loving warmth. "Bebita?" he calls again, lifting a portion to your lips.

You let him feed you. The delicate combination of flavors perfectly balance on your tongue. Filling the empty cavern that overtook you with something new. Something beautiful.

"There there." Max encourages you, bringing another portion to your tongue "Eat up."

Though you were starved, it almost feels like too much. But you were too tired to fight it. So you give. Leaning into the intimacy of the act. Letting Max nourish not just your body, but your heart. Those beautiful hands feeding you. Bright brown eyes focused on yours. To be seen by him. To be known. To be loved. Was a gift all its own.

"My baby." He says with a smile, delivering a soft kiss to your temple. "You are so wonderful mi amor…" Max's eyes fall over to the dishes set out before the two of you. "And this-" Max sends you a mischievous smirk as he swipes a small bit off your plate for himself. "Is just a part of that. Of you. Of your culture." His voice is somehow even softer than before, warm brown eyes on you. "So beautiful. So strong." Soft hands encase yours. "How could something so good ever be bad?"

Another wave of tears flood your eyes as the question settles into your deepest insecurities. Challenging any lingering self-consciousness with the overwhelming love you held in your heart. And as the delicious smell and taste still swirl around you Max's words purge your mind of the cruel words before; leaving only the echo of his admiration in its place.

"I know it hurts Bebita. Remember how beautiful everything you are is. Do not deny yourself that luxury." Max's broad frame fills your vision. The too big world closes in on just the two of you. His warm hands grasp yours. Big brown eyes peering into your tear filled ones. "We are still here. And that means everything."

"Max-" you cry out, falling into his embrace. The shared sorrow between you feels much more bearable than before. Your lips catch his in a soft kiss. As you melt into each other, you can't help but smile. The taste of home upon his lips.

#am writes #max lord #gn!reader #poc!reader #max lord comfort fic #max lord x reader #max lord fanfic #max lord fanfiction

[sirowsky]

Birthday Stories

Hey, everyone.

As mentioned, B-days aren't my favorite days of a year, but I'm trying to make this upcoming one a bit better than previous ones, to which end I've asked you to help me with inspiring some writing.

Well, you have, and this is where I'll be posting everything I have or will write based on your prompts, or just my own imagination.

The day in question isn't until June 30th, and I'm planning on posting one short-story a day until then, starting tomorrow, and continuing daily until I have nothing more to add.

The stories are varied. Some are reader inserts, some are not, some involve Pedro characters, some don't. This will be a gallimaufry of creativity and my general love of writing, so expect anything and everything.

And if you feel like helping me add to this - please do! Send me anything you want, even just a single word and I'll challenge myself to turn it into hundreds. Help me celebrate in the way that I love to, and the way that only you, my peers, understand!

A huge, heartfelt Thank You, to everyone that participates in this little corner of fun. 💖

--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--

June 20th - River Poem

June 21st - Hold On (Pero Tovar)

June 22nd - Treat Me Right (Javier Gutierrez)

June 23rd - Warmth

June 24th - Grogu's Gift (Din Djarin)

June 25th - Whiskey Nights (Jack Daniels)

June 26th - Their Poem

June 27th - Danger Close (Javier Pena)

June 28th - Fearful Heart (Pero Tovar)

June 29th - Max's Monster (Maxwell Lorenzano/Max Lord)

June 30th - The Day (Frankie Morales)

--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--=¤=--

#sirowsky's birthday celebration #sirowsky's personal crap #you'll find this post on my masterlist #come and play #challenge me #pero tovar fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #javi g fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #max lord fanfiction

[morallyinept]

Here, you'll find extensive lists of all my favourite Pedro Pascal Character Fics, written by all the amazingly talented writers out there. Includes fics that I am currently reading/want to read in the future.

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤 Support Your Writers! We get these incredible stories for free! They deserve all the re-blogs.

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

HAPPY READING! 🖤

EZRA (PROSPECT)

JOEL MILLER (THE LAST OF US)

FRANCISCO 'CATFISH' MORALES (TRIPLE FRONTIER)

JAVIER PEÑA (NARCOS)

DAVE YORK (THE EQUALIZER 2)

AGENT WHISKEY (KINGSMEN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE)

OBERYN MARTELL (GAME OF THRONES)

DIETER BRAVO (THE BUBBLE)

MARCUS PIKE (THE MENTALIST)

MAX PHILLIPS (BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS)

MAXWELL LORD (WONDER WOMAN 1984)

DIN DJARIN (THE MANDALORIAN)

JAVI GUTIERREZ (THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT)

PERO TOVAR (THE GREAT WALL)

COMANDANTE VERACRUZ (BURN NOTICE: THE FALL OF SAM AXE)

MARCUS MORENO (WE CAN BE HEROES)

SILVA (STRANGE WAY OF LIFE)

DETECTIVE TIM ROCKFORD (MERGE MANSION)

LUCIEN FLORES (THE UNINVITED)

CLINT (FREAKY TALES)

TED GARCIA (EDDINGTON)

MISC. PEDRO CHARACTERS - MR BEN (SNL), WING PIT (SNL), JAY CASTILLO (RED WIDOW), NICO (HOUSE COMES WITH A BIRD), ZACH WELLISON (BROTHERS & SISTERS), DIO MORRISSEY (NYPD BLUE), SANTOS (DRIVE AWAY DOLLS), OMAR ASSARIAN (LIGHTS OUT) & THE THIEF (CASILLERO DEL DIABLO WINES).

PART 2 - SPECIAL AGENT ORTEGA (THE SIXTH GUN), PEDRO ACROSS THE STREET (CALLS), EDDIE THE FRESHMAN (BUFFY), MISS FLORES (SNL), FIRE MEET GASOLINE VIDEO CHARACTER, NATHAN LANDRY (THE GOOD WIFE), RICKY HAUK (TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL) & LIAM (NIKITA).

KINKTOBER FIC RECS - PEDRO CHARACTER KINKTOBERS, FLUFFTOBERS, WINKTOBERS, WHUMPTOBERS, HAUNTED HOEDOWNS, COWBOYTOBERS, BANGATHONS, SEASONAL & SMUTSGIVING MASTERLISTS.

FESTIVE FIC RECS PART 1, PART 2 & PART 3 - CHRISTMAS THEMED PEDRO BOY STORIES AND MASTERLISTS.

TOP 25 FAVOURITE FICS OF 2023 - 25 FICS THAT I READ THIS YEAR THAT ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE.

VALENTINE'S FIC RECS - PART 1 & PART 2 - VALENTINE'S DAY THEMED STORIES.

#pedro pascal characters #fic recs #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller #ezra prospect #pedro pascal fanfiction #agent whiskey #dieter bravo #dave york #javier peña #javi gutierrez #max phillips #maxwell lord #silva strange way of life #comandante veracruz #francisco catfish morales #din djarin #marcus moreno #marcus pike #oberyn martell #smutty #fic rec #pedro pascal character stories #pedro pascal character fics #detective tim rockford

[iamasaddie]

low key this writers whole max masterlist has some good dom max

OH MY GOD thank you SO MUCH!!! I am going to devour it 😍🥵 my night has just become SO much better

#😍🥵 #max lord fanfiction

[wardenparker]

In the Heights, part 1

Maxwell Lord x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 17.5k   Warnings: Cursing. Alcohol/food consumption, single dad Max, mention of divorce and unhappy marriage, probably inaccurate portrayal of being a high school student in the 60s, yearning, mutual pining, friends to lovers, the love is requited they're just idiots, the one that got away, high school crush, poor communication, mistaken sexuality assumptions, people being skeptical about Max, reader is full of sunshine, tipsy behaviours. Summary: A long time ago in a life that seems completely forgotten, you had a crush on your classmate Max Lorenzano. The world has changed a lot since then - but when you discover that your old friend is your new neighbor, it seems like some things have stayed the same after all. (This story contains flashbacks.) Notes: Part 1 of 2! I won't lie to you, guys. I love Max Lord. I love him in a way that is probably not healthy at all, so Keri has once again humored me and allowed for a little One That Got Away story with this sad puppy of a man. Also, I apologize for any errors I may have missed in editing. Cold medicine and being sleepy is a bad combo.

The sight of a moving truck isn't odd in any part of New York City. People come and go from these buildings so quickly that some people never bother to get to know their neighbors at all. The only reason you'd really noticed the one this morning was because it was out front when you were leaving for work and causing a little bit of a commotion with traffic. You'd skirted it and strode across the street to grab your usual cup of coffee and bagel with cream cheese from the bodega across the street before hitting the subway. Midtown doesn't seem far when you get to just sit and read during your commute, and you've never minded. But you tuck away the information about having a new neighbor and consider baking a batch of welcome cookies for them when you get home from the office tonight - it seems like the neighborly thing to do. You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl.

******

Max sighs as he hauls the last box up the stairs. Alistair has already started unpacking his room, and thank God he managed to pay the moving company to at least get the large items upstairs to the third floor wall up, but then the rest of the boxes had been left on the curb when they had figured out where they knew him from. He’s just lucky they didn’t take what he had with them, but it was again a reminder of how he had fucked up. New York is supposed to be a fresh start, a new beginning, but he doesn’t know if that’s possible for him.

The positive of someplace busy like New York was supposed to be that people would ignore or look past him. They always say New Yorkers are too busy to bother with their neighbors, and that’s something he wanted this time. To just blend into the background if he could so that Alistair could have a fighting chance and not be despised because of what he had done. Alistair, for the most part, remains as optimistic and sweet as ever. He knows that people are upset with his Daddy but his love never wavers. It’s enough to push him through the bad days, thank god, and to remind him that he’s doing this for a good reason. Starting over is for his son. He will find a way - any way - to make this work.

Things are different than D.C., the energy is different. He’s reminded of the days that he was in school, hopeful for the future. Max Lorenzano was teased and bullied in school, made fun of because of his poverty, his weird foods that he ate, the holes in his shoes, and his proclivity for learning. It had been his first life lessons, but the bullying in school was better than the beatings at home. Unsure of why he is thinking about those things, he takes the first load of boxes to the trash chute.

****

It’s sometime after dinner that the batch of chocolate chip cookies you put together are finally cool enough and ready to pack up. Stacking them neatly on a plate, wrapping it in cling film, and tying it up with ribbon, you head across the hall to meet the folks that just moved into Mrs. Cristian’s old place. An empty box marked Toys in the trash chute had clued you in to a child being present, so cookies seems even more appropriate now.

Even though Max is a miserable cook, he’s unpacking the kitchen when he hears the knock at the door. Frowning slightly, he wonders if the pizza he had ordered has already gotten here. He had assumed that it would take longer than fifteen minutes. “Coming!” He dusts his hands on his jeans and walks towards the door. Opening it up as he reaches for his wallet.

“Hi neighbor!” The words - bright and sunny - are out of your mouth before you even look up, having gotten distracted by the Torres’ cat in the hallway. But the second you do, your eyes go wide. “Max?” There’s no questioning it. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him all over the news or that you didn’t remember what had happened. Everyone remembered. Just…most of the billions of people in the world hadn’t known Max Lord since he was Max Lorenzano in Lubbock, Texas.

Instantly on guard, he’s halfway expecting to be attacked, or cussed out. That was the reaction of the majority of people who recognized him. He needed to dye his hair back to his natural brown. When the diatribe doesn’t come, he frowns and takes a closer look at the pretty woman in front of him for a moment before his eyes widen and your name comes off as a whisper like a ghost from his past

****

“Hey Lame-zano!” Max hunches over his books and speeds up, trying to ignore the boys behind him. Knowing that it would do no good to turn around and confront them. It would just speed up the beat down he knows is coming. “Hey weirdo! Fuckin’ stop!”

The boys don’t stop hollering as Max speeds up. They never do. Torture is the specialty of high school jocks, or at least these particular ones, and Max is their favourite target. “Max!” His name is hisses from somewhere off to the side, and an arm shoots out to pull him out of the hallway like he’s a bad Vaudeville comedian. He’s almost yanked off his feet, but for the girl he crashes into in the disused classroom. You hush him immediately, hand over his mouth, and quickly shut the door so the scions of the football team won’t see where he’s disappeared too. “Quiet.” You warn, carefully peaking through the window to make sure they walk by.

He crouches down, grateful that you had pulled him out of the line of fire, face burning in shame at the same time. To be rescued by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen seems to be his luck, knowing you are completely aware of his lack of masculinity. “Thanks.” He murmurs quietly.

“They’re shitheads.” You mutter, shaking your head as the group of boys howls on their way by. “Absolute shitheads.” There’s no real reason for any of the other kids to be so mean to Max, but logic never stopped cruel people from being cruel. Max is different so they’re mean. It’s as simple as that.

“They are still better than I am.” He huffs, terrified they will find him and humiliate him in front of you. It’s a dirty feeling, to know that you are going to be here to witness his utter ruination.

“How?” That doesn’t make any sense to you, and your brow furrows at him as you lean back against the door. You’ll give it another minute or two before you both go out there. Maybe the trio will move on to another target for a while. Sometimes that target is you, but you’d take it every time if it meant they would leave Max alone. “You mean they’re better at playing football than you? Who cares?”

“They are popular.” He reminds you. “Their parents are influential. People respect them.” Respect is what he craves, yearns for.

"They're bullies." And it stings, because one of those awful idiots out there is your own cousin. But because you have different last names, most people don't know. You want nothing to do with him and vice versa. "People don't respect them, they're either ass kissers or afraid." Shrugging slightly, you cross your arms over your chest, knowing that you don't exactly sound very ladylike at the moment. You could care less at the moment, though. You would only care if cussing offended Max.

“You don’t understand.” Max shakes his head and stares at you. “Why are you hiding from them? They don’t torment you.” He’s jealous of that, if he’s honest, but he’s also grateful that they don’t. Knowing that you are too good for that, for him to even talk to.

"Sure they do." It might not be as loud or as often, but they still pick on you. "Yesterday Lewis Sinclair practically pulled up my skirt in chemistry class because I answered too many questions correctly." You shake your head again, scowling this time. "They're all awful. You shouldn't listen to what they say."

“They are right, I am a loser.” Max snorts, standing up when they have passed by and don’t seem to be doubling back. “Everyone knows it.” He’s learned that he will have to reinvent himself, become someone people want to know. It’s how he will become important and successful.

"You're not." At least, you've never thought so. But maybe that doesn't count for much in his view of things. It's not like the boy you've had a quiet crush on since seventh grade has ever looked at you more than a few times - and even then it was to ask you for help in class. This might be the longest conversation you've ever had with him. "They're mean because you're different from them. That doesn't mean you're a loser."

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” He sighs and looks down at his feet. “Are you going home after this? I think we’ve missed the bus.” That means he will get home late to do his chores. Which means he will get yelled at if his father comes home early.

"We could walk?" Neither of you lives too far from the school despite most of the town being spread out to small farms or ranches, or even just decent-size patches of land. You know for a fact that the Lorenzanos live pretty close because you moved closer to them just last summer. The implosion of your family's happily little bubble wasn't public knowledge, thank goodness.

“Okay.” He bites his lip and wonders why you want to walk with him. If it’s some sort of trick. He nods and decides that walking with you is better than being alone. “Do you need anything from your locker?”

"Yeah." Nodding, you hold up the books in your arms. "I need to swap these and grab my jacket. It will only take a second, I promise." It shouldn't make you feel so warm and pleased that a boy - this boy - wants to walk home with you, but he's sweet. He's always been sweet. Ever since he moved here when you were kids. It was a shame when he came to school one day with no trace of his accent left, but it hadn't made him any less cute.

“Hopefully they won’t double back, so you can take your time.” He doesn’t want to rush you, even though every second counts. It’s the most he’s ever talked to you and he likes it. You are nice. It doesn’t hurt that he has been harboring a crush on you.

Opening the classroom door carefully, you poke your head into the hallway to see it mostly cleared and swallow a sigh. "I think they're gone," you murmur, reaching back to wave for him to follow you. "C'mon. We'll be on our way home in no time."

“Hopefully I beat my father home.” Max huffs as he follows you out of the classroom and both of you hustle down the hall.

"Will you be in trouble if you don't?" That idea bothers you, but not knowing anything about his father, you're not sure if it's realistic or not. He wouldn't be the first kid to get yelled at or even hit for not following a rule.

“It- it’s best if we hurry.” Max admits, biting his lip. “I don’t know if he planned to stop by the bar before coming home and he doesn’t like it when my chores are not done.”

"I can help." You promise instantly, tugging your locker open to exchange your books and shove them into your bag to go home. Your mother is still working and will be for hours. As long as you're home and have dinner ready for her when she gets there, she doesn't keep track of what else you do.

“You-“ he’s momentarily lost for words at your offer. No one has ever offered to help him. With anything. “You don’t have to do that.” He promises.

"It's okay." The smile you give him at the opportunity to be helpful and spend a little more time with him, is brilliant. "Come on, we should hightail it and between the two of us we'll have everything done in no time."

“Are you sure?” He frowns, not wanting to take advantage of your kindness.

“Absolutely.” Slamming your locker closed, you grab his hand and head for the exit, feeling positively brave. Your crush on Max might be unrequited, but at least you can be his friend. Everyone deserves a friend.

“My house.” He grimaces and swallows slightly. “It’s not….fancy.” He feels his face get hot and he’s a little defensive. “But it’s clean. My mother says that being poor is no excuse for being dirty.”

“My house isn’t fancy, either.” When he doesn’t pull his hand away you just keep it, wondering why it’s taken you all the way to senior year to even do this much. You’ve never been particularly brave, but this is just…it’s just talking to someone. Right? “It’s okay. Fancy doesn’t automatically equal better.”

“Yes it does.” Max argues, looking at you like you are crazy. “Fancy is always better. It means that you can have the best.” He sighs. “One day I will have the best of everything.”

****

“You remember me?” As much as you remember him - every detail, down to the curve of his nose that he hates and the hair that he had dyed and apparently dyed back again - you didn’t expect him to remember you. It’s been years since the last time you saw him face to face. A whole ten years or more. He stopped coming back to Lubbock after a while and you didn’t exactly blame him. There was never anything exciting going on there.

“Of course I remember you.” You were one of the few good memories he had from Lubbock. “What are you doing here?” Of all the people in New York, he had never anticipated seeing you. And apparently his neighbor. He had expected you to be married and have kids, although that could still be true. His eyes drop down to your left hand and he can’t see it because it’s holding a plate of cookies.

“I—I live across the hall.” As startled as you are, you’re still standing in the hallway of your apartment building and you shift your weight nervously from foot to foot. “I saw a box in the chute marked for toys, so I thought I’d bring cookies and introduce myself.” Now that you know it’s Max, though, your cheeks are burning hotter than the early July heatwave. “Just…wanted to be friendly, that’s all.”

“It’s- it’s good to see you.” Max opens the door wider, motioning for you to come in. “How long has it been?” He knows exactly how long it has been since he’s seen you. Twelve years, two months and six days since he’s last seen you.

“Twelve years.” You answer far too quickly, but you step inside his apartment anyway. It’s identical to yours except being flipped - a mirror image that lets you know where everything is with only minimal thought. “It’s good to see you too. You’ve…well, it’s been a long time. I’m sure you’ve been up to a lot. You always had big dreams.”

He frowns, certain that you must have known about the dream stone incident. Been affected by it. “Yes, I did. That is over now.” He looks back at the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. “All I want is to be a good dad.”

“Who says that’s not a big dream?” Carefully setting the plate down on the corner of his kitchen counter, you wipe your hands nervously and shove them in your pockets. “If you ask me, that's about the biggest dream there is. Parenthood is a big deal.”

“Yes.” He nods seriously. “I let Alistair down once, but I will not let him down again.” He sighs and looks up at you guiltily. “Do you have kids?”

“I was never lucky enough.” Something that your mother considers the ultimate failing. She considers your choice to be a career woman to be a betrayal of her plan for you. The fact that you wouldn’t just settle for any guy who would have you was a tragedy in her book. “I have a job I love, and a cat to keep me company.”

“I like cats.” Max offers nervously, looking around the apartment and wondering what you think of the mess he has accumulated. “Sorry I’m not unpacked.” He offers, eyes finding you again and finding you just as pretty as he remembered. Maybe more so.”

“I didn't expect you would be.” A smile quirks up the corners of your mouth and you can’t help being glad to see his hair back to its natural brown. You had seen the blonde in his tv commercials and on the news — it didn’t suit him. “Hell, I think it took me a month to unpack and it was just me and Dantes.” You fluster slightly, finding his eyes on you. “That’s…that’s my cat.

“Dantes huh?” His lips quirk up in a grin, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. “Like the Inferno?” He jokes.

"I named him after the Count of Monte Cristo, but he's as temperamental as a volcano." He still has the most beautiful smile, it twists your stomach exactly the way it did when you were teenagers. "You can come over and say hi anytime you like. I'm just across the hall...and even if I'm at work Dantes loves company."

“Alistair would love that. He has always wanted a pet, but….” He frowns, remembering that he had always said that he would get him one later and later never came. Another failing. “He would love it.” He finishes lamely.

"Come over anytime," you repeat, smiling a little brighter when that old, familiar crease notches in Max's forehead. "I'm sure Alistair and Dantes will get along famously." It will have the added benefit of getting to see him sometimes, and despite feeling ridiculous for still nursing your schoolgirl crush, you won't deny yourself a small, private pleasure. "It's nice to have an old friend around again."

You had been a friend to him, one of the few. The bittersweet pang of regret thumps inside him and he nods. “That would be good.” He agrees. “My- my ex-wife had animals and he- he misses them.” He admits.

“No problem.” Instinctively your hand goes out to him, touching him gently on the arm. “But I’m…I’m sorry to hear that. The ex part…”

Max can only blame himself. He had spent too much time chasing his dreams and Genji had grown tired of waiting for him to pay attention to her. He was lucky she let Alistair live with him, although it left her able to travel with her new husband. He shrugs. “She is happier and I am grateful for our son.”

“Sounds like you got the winning end of the deal to me.” You offer him a smile, knowing that transitions can be difficult. And divorces are never easy either.

“Only after almost losing him.” Max acknowledges, frowning as he remembers how frightened Alistair was, and how he had to run away because of Max’s mistakes. “But that is now the past. We are here for a fresh start.”

“New York is a great place for a fresh start.” He’s probably more than sick of talking about what happened, and you have no desire to sully this unexpected little reunion, so you don’t say a thing about it. “Definitely more to do than in Lubbock,” you joke instead.

“What brought you here?” Max asks, interested in your life since he last saw you.

“The intense desire to get away from my mother.” It’s only half a joke, and you chuckle when the corners of his lips turn up in understanding. “I work for a publishing house in Midtown. It’s good work and decent pay. And it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than editing articles for the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal and sitting through tedious dinners with whatever men my mother was trying to set me up with.”

“You never married?” He frowns slightly, unable to believe that someone would not have snatched you up.

“I was engaged once. It…didn’t work out.” Finding out he’d been cheating on you for half your relationship doomed that marriage before it could even start. You’re just glad that you had found out about it before walking down that aisle. You’re almost grateful that that girl out in St. Louis had decided to call you up and cuss you out. “What they say about airline pilots might not be true of all, but it’s certainly true of some.”

“I’m sorry.” He winces and shakes his head. “He must have been an idiot to let you slip away.” You had been his dream girl for a long time until he had met Genji.

"He wanted the world on a string." It was what he always said. It just wasn't until later that you had realized what he meant by it. "Sounds like we both had idiots in our lives. Otherwise she wouldn't have let you get away, either."

“I was never there.” Max admits. “Even when I was. I was too focused on becoming someone.”

"You'll be there for him now." You can hear him playing in the back bedroom, crowing happily over a spaceman toy. "And he's lucky to have you."

“I hope so.” Failure is one of Max’s greatest fears and he’s already done that.

"You never could see how special you are." It slips out before you can stop it, a slight shrug of your shoulders is the best you can do in pseudo-self-defense. He never did think much of himself, but the more you had gotten to know Max, the more obvious it was to you that that was a result of how his father treated him.

“You don’t know the things that I’ve done.” It’s selfish but he hopes you never find out. “I better finish unpacking the kitchen before the pizza gets here.” He knows you wouldn’t want to stay and he doesn’t want to be rejected so he doesn’t invite you for the pepperoni pizza.

"I, uh--I'll get out of your hair." The way he shuts down breaks your heart a little, but you nod your understanding. You've overstayed your welcome and he has never felt as strongly about your friendship as you did. That's just...well, it's just life. "It's...it's really good to see you, Max."

“It’s good to see you again too.” He promises, smiling slightly. “I’m sure we will run into you again. We are neighbors.”

"Yes. It's good to see you, too." With your heart in your throat, you nod and make yourself smile as you step back to go out the door. "I'll see you around, neighbor."

****

“So prom is coming up.” Max frowns slightly as he walks with you. He’s nervous because you haven’t said anything about prom and you talk about everything. He wonders if you have a date that you don’t want to tell him about. “Are you going?”

"I don't think so." Walking home together has become a ritual. Today you wrap your jacket a little tighter as you walk to block out the early spring chill and try not to get excited about the question he's just asked. No one else had asked you to prom, that's true. But you would have turned them down anyway -- you've been holding your breath hoping that Max would ask. "Can't go to prom without a date."

“We should go.” Max argues. “It’s Senior Prom. We can’t miss out on memories like that.” He’s been working on the weekends with his dad to save up for a tuxedo rental and a corsage. “The theme is ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’.” He reminds you.

"You...want to take me to prom?" You know the smile on your face is far too wide, but this is exactly what you've been dreaming of. These walks home, spending a little time at his house before his dad gets home from work, even starting to chat a little with his mother sometimes. You may not be Max's girlfriend, but you want to be, and you've made every effort possible to show him that.

“If you want to.” Max bites his lip. “I know you will probably have someone else ask you, and it’s okay if you’d rather go with them, but I’ve been saving up to buy a corsage and take you out to eat.” He admits. “I’ve been working with my dad.”

"I want to." It's too quick of a reply to be ladylike, but you don't much care about that. Not when you're actually being asked by the right boy. "With you. I want to go to prom with you. Yes."

“Yeah?” He’s surprised, but grins happily. “Then let’s go to prom together.” He nods, beaming and his posture straightens proudly. “You and me, we will have fun.” He promises.

"Yes, we will." Already convinced of it, you don't care a single second for anything or anyone else in the world right now. Max asked you to prom. That's all you've wanted for ages. "I'm going to make my dress," you announce, smiling up at him as you walk down the sidewalk. "My mother has some extra fabric from a wedding that she made dresses for. It's the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen."

“That will be good.” He nods. “Do you want me to match your dress?”

"If you want to." The idea is a little thrilling - looking like you belong together - and you nod. "I think you'd look very handsome in blue."

“Then that will be the tuxedo that I order.” He promises, looking forward to the idea of going with you and seeing you dressed up. For him.

It doesn't seem real that he would actually want to go with you, but as you walk alongside him toward his house it feels like the very best kind of dream. He isn't shy about wanting the best of everything, and you always encourage him, but it isn't like you're the prettiest or most popular girl in school. There are other, arguably better choices. But he still asked you. "I can't wait."

He smiles, amazed that you had said yes. He doesn’t know why, but you seem to like being around him. “We will have a good time. Dance and see what the fuss is about.”

"I don't think I've ever seen you dance." There's no reason you would have, all things considered, but the thought spreads your smile a little further.

“I can dance.” He huffs, almost insulted by the idea that he couldn’t. The fact that he’s been practicing in his bedroom by himself is irrelevant.

"I never said you couldn't!" When he pouts like that it makes you want to find out if his lips are as soft as they look but you would never try to kiss him out of the blue. Only fast girls kiss boys they aren't going steady with - and your mother warned you what happens to fast girls. Well...she's said 'And you know what happens to fast girls, don't you?', but you were always too scared to admit that you didn't have any clue what she was talking about.

“Good, because I can.” Just to prove his point, he stops walking and grabs your hand to pull you into his arms to dance a small little circle around right there on the sidewalk.

It's like a movie scene when he reaches for you, his hand on your back burning through you despite the chilly weather. You could just melt right into the pavement on the spot. "Well, look at you," you hum, feeling breathless with your heart beating so fast. "A real dancer."

“All gentlemen know how to dance.” He informs you, grinning widely as he lets go and steps back to bow gracefully.

"Then I'll have to work on becoming a little more ladylike for you before prom." A soft giggle escapes you when he bows, and you shift your bookbag on your shoulder.

“Don’t change a thing about yourself.” He protests, shaking his head. “You are just right as you are.”

"You're very sweet." As the two of you turn to start walking together again, your hand itches to reach for his so you shove it in your pocket. "The sweetest boy in the whole world is taking me to prom."

There’s nothing that he can say to that, his mind going completely blank except to repeat that you think he’s sweet over and over again. He bites his lip and tries not to look too happy about your comment.

"Have you heard back from any colleges yet?" He has talked about wanting to go. You've talked about it together, and he has so many ideas for what his business degree could turn into that it makes your head spin. But he hasn't said yet if he has had any acceptance letters so it's made you wonder.

“A few.” He sighs and wishes that he were rich or his family was rich. “I can’t go though.”

"You have to have been offered scholarships." You know what trouble he would have with being able to go. It's the same one you have which is exactly why your own mother told you to stop being stupid and forget about it. Colleges, apparently, aren't for girls.

“Not enough for Harvard.” He had already done the math, several times and just couldn’t afford it. “I have to turn down an Ivy League school because I’m too poor.” It stings and he hates it.

"I'm so sorry, Max..." His dreams mean the world to him, and you know it. But there are some things that are beyond even his grasp. If you could find a way to make the world perfect for him you would do it instantly, but that dream is still out of your grasp.

“It’s not your fault.” He swallows. “Have you been hearing from colleges?”

"No." You shake your head, staring down at your shoes as you walk. "All that work you helped me put into the applications and my mother took them out of the mailbox and threw them away." The words ring in your mind, her voice echoing in your head. "College isn't for girls."

“College is for everyone.” He argues, immediately upset for you. You had worked hard on those applications and they were really good. You would have gotten three of your choices for sure. “We can redo them, hope they accept them late?” He offers quickly.

"She wouldn't help me with tuition." And unfortunately, he knows that you would need financial help to go to school, too. "I would have to get a full scholarship somewhere, and even with good grades I just don't know if it would happen."

“If you don’t try, you won’t ever find out.” He reminds you. “Great rewards sometimes require great risks.”

He has no idea that he sounds wise when he says things like that, and when you tilt your head to peek up at him again he's looking at you so earnestly that you sigh quietly. It makes your heart ache to know how special he is to you and that he couldn't ever feel that way about you, but you'll soak up every ounce of his attention while you can possibly get it. Before he goes off and conquers the world or something. "You really think so?"

“I do.” He nods seriously and frowns as he thinks. “After- after my parents are asleep, I could sneak over and help you.” He murmurs quietly. “Apply to your top three and I’ll mail them off from my house. That way she can’t throw them away.”

"Tonight." You decide, ready to believe anything is possible if he has that kind of faith in you. "Do you really think you can manage to sneak out? I don't want you to get in trouble on my account." His father could lose his temper over almost anything, and the last thing you wanted was for Max to suffer any extra. Not for you.

“I can.” He smirks slightly and straightens proudly. “We will make sure you go to college.” He knows you want to be an editor, maybe even a writer one day and he knows that a good college will make that happen.

Overwhelmed with the idea that it could be possible, you surge forward and grab his arm, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek before you pull away again just as fast. Your own face is burning, but just in this moment you find that you don't actually care that much. "Thank you," you murmur, beaming at him with gratitude and excitement. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a good friend. Thank you, Max."

“Thank you.” He murmurs quietly. “You are the one who befriended me.” He reminds you. You had pulled him into that classroom and saved him for another beating.

"I should have done it a long time ago." The embarrassment of not being braver stings, but there's nothing you can do besides swallow it down.

“No.” Max shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong. We all do what we have to. You were just trying to protect yourself.”

"Still." There isn't any point in wishing to change the past. You know that and he's right that you were trying to protect yourself. "You deserve the world, Max. Really."

“One day I will have the world.” He vows, grinning at you. “And so will you.”

****

It's a random, seemingly unimportant Saturday morning when a small knock sounds on your door. You had been sitting with a cup of coffee and a muffin trying to convince yourself to work on the draft of the book that you had been chipping away at for years when you heard it. Dantes mewed at the sound like it was rude for interrupting his long morning of staring at the ceiling, and you just laugh. "No, no," you chuckle at your cat. "Don't disturb yourself. I'll get it." The prim Russian Blue doesn't move when you get up from your seat and you peer through the peephole to see no one standing there at all. Opening the door curiously, you find a little boy with impossibly wide eyes standing on your doorstep. "Well, hello." You've seen this little boy before, coming in and out of the building or on the stairs, always hugging tight to Max's side. "You must be Alistair."

“Dad said that you have a cat that I could play with?” He asks, curious to find out the truth of this. “He knows I was coming over. He said he would be just a minute behind me. Is that okay?”

"Of course it is." Stepping back to let him inside, you point through the kitchen to the cat tree. "That's Dantes. Let me get you some of his favorite toys and a few treats you can give him, and you guys can play in the living room, okay?" This is a cat who loves kids, so you're sure everything will go well, but you want Max's son to go into the first meeting armed with all the right tools.

“Okay!” He grins at you and nearly bounces on his toes with glee. “I’m excited to meet him. I’ve wanted a pet for a long time but dad didn’t have time, but I don’t blame him.” He tells you seriously, nodding for emphasis.

“Your dad is doing his very best for you, and that includes making sure you had a neighbor with a cat to visit. You’re welcome to come over any time you like, and your dad is too.” You leave the door cracked open for Max to follow, careful that it isn’t enough for Dante’s to escape, and bring Alistair to get the cat’s favorite things so they can meet.

Max had been washing your plate to bring it over to you again. Alistair had been too eager and had decided that he couldn’t wait to go meet Dantes. Max didn’t have the heart to tell him to wait, so he had sent him over and hoped you would understand.

When he tentatively pushes the door open a few minutes later, Alistair is on the living room rug dangling a toy for Dante’s to bat around with a bowl full of kitty kibble and assorted small treats for the cat and a muffin and glass of juice for himself. You’ve set yourself back up at your little kitchenette table a few feet away, though your manuscript is now pushed aside in favor of the New York Times crossword. “Hey.” When you spy Max’s head peak around the door, you wave him in. “Morning, neighbor.”

“It’s not too early, is it?” He asks, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I wrangled him as long as I could.” He grins and shrugs. “But then breakfast was over.”

“It’s never too early.” Not for him is what you want to say, but instead you say, “not for friends.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Not until coffee for me. I used to take all these supplements and herbs, but now it’s just pure caffeine.”

“Can I pour you a cup? I always make a full pot for some reason and never drink it all.” Up and out of your seat before he can even answer, you’re grabbing a mug out of your cupboard and pulling out the bakery box from your trip down the block this morning. “I also have more muffins than one human can manage. I guess the wind told me to be ready for guests today.”

“I’m sorry we showed up unannounced.” Max winces and looks around. “If you have plans…..” He doesn’t want to intrude on your day if you are busy. It would be easy to get Alistair to leave. He’s been promising to take him to Central Park.

“I was going to sit and curse at my manuscript all day,” you admit with a shrug and pour out his cup. “You saved me from getting frustrated with myself.”

“Oh! A book?” He asks, remembering your dream of writing a book. “Is it your first? Or are you published under a pen name?”

"This would be my first. I've been fighting with it for years and I'm still not satisfied with the second half of the story." Coming back to the table, you set down a mug of coffee and the box of muffins for him with a plate. "Alistair asked for the chocolate chip, I hope it's okay that I said yes."

“Of course.” He can’t help but huff in amusement. “Probably better than the burned eggs and cereal we had for breakfast.”

“Help yourself,” you insist, motioning to the box. Sitting down across from him like this is oddly familiar - like your high school cafeteria should materialize around you any second - but you don’t dislike it.

“I appreciate it.” He’s remembering all the times you had eaten together over the years. Including the one meal he bought you before prom.

“How is the job search going?” The few little talks you had had in the stairwell or while grabbing your mail from the boxes in the lobby had clued you in to how Max’s life is running these days and it’s an unfortunate reality. Since the incident people have been wary of him and even downright rude.

“I will find something soon.” He forces out cheerily. “I am hoping that a few places will call me back.” He doubts it, but all he can do is hope someone gives him a chance.

“I know it isn’t…Your dream or anything, but the publishing house I work for is expanding so they’re hiring all sorts of positions.” It was something you had been discussing ad nauseam in the office and had been meaning to mention to him anyway. Now is as good a time as any. “I can get a complete list from my friend in HR if you like? And I’ll vouch for you if you decide to put in for anything.”

“Are you sure you want to be associated with me?” He asks seriously. Some of the comments you have made lead him to believe that you know what happened last winter. “I don’t want to put your profession or your own job at risk.”

“I’m sure.” You’ve always been sure about him. He might not understand it - hell, sometimes you didn’t always understand it - but that’s just how you feel about him. “I know you, Max. I trust you.”

“You haven’t seen me in twelve years before this week.” He reminds you quietly, looking down at the blueberry muffin in his hands. “I wasn’t a good man.”

“I might not know anything about Maxwell Lord,” you lower your voice, not conspicuously but not wanting to perk Alistair’s ears. “But I know Max Lorenzano. He helped me get into college. Took me to prom. Listened to every story and fear and triumph that I had for years. You were my best friend, Max. Let me repay you for helping me believe in myself.”

Max swallows harshly, overcome with the glowing review of a boy who had been so ashamed of being poor. It sounds like you preferred him. “Thank you.” He replies hoarsely.

“I know it’s been a while.” But you’ve thought about him constantly, and even though you might not admit that to him so that you don’t have to have an awkward conversation with your first love about him actually being your first love, you’re not shy about wanting to help. “I’d like to be friends again. Like we used to be.”

“Like we used to be.” He nods. Friends where a shy and awkward boy had an unrequited crush on you. He had survived it once and he could do it again to have you back in his corner.

“Alistair’s very sweet.” It changes the topic cleanly because you don’t want Max to get a whiff of the fact that your feelings for him have come back nearly full force. Not that he had any idea the first time around. Or if he did, he hadn’t let you know it. Instead you put your focus on his son, the excitable little boy that he has put all his focus in himself.

“He is a good kid.” Max can easily agree with that. “I don’t deserve him, but for some reason he loves me.” His eyes drift to the living room and he smiles when he sees Alistair petting Dantes and cooing happily at the attention loving cat.

If you were bold, you’d promise him that he’s not difficult at all to love, but you’ve never been bold. You hadn’t even been bold enough to kiss him at prom. Instead you smile warmly and pick up your coffee. “You deserve much more than you think.”

“I think we will have to disagree on that.” He murmurs, snorting softly. “I didn’t realize what I was doing until I almost lost him. An angry mob, coming for me, scared him and he was wandering the streets of D.C. by himself.” He stares down at his coffee mug, glad to get this off his chest. “I would have never forgiven myself if he had been hurt.”

“What is life if not making mistakes and learning lessons?” You had been watching right along with the rest of the world while it all happened, but being on the outside must have been a very different experience than being where he was on the inside. “He’s okay. He’s safe, and he has a father who loves him. In time you’ll learn to forgive yourself like he’s already forgiven you.”

“Perhaps.” Max won’t agree with that, but he also won’t count it out. “First I need to prove that I can be useful. Helpful.”

"Sometimes it's okay to just have fun, too." But you won't push. Or press. "I haven't seen you since college," you say instead. "What have you been up to, besides having that angel of a little boy?"

“Married…divorced.” Max sighs and shrugs. “Tried to make Black Gold work. I really did. Convinced I was going to find oil.”

"There are lots of places in the world with oil. It isn't so crazy to think that you would find some." Anytime you had seen his name in the papers, you had tried to follow it. Unfortunately it seemed to be more bad news than good for the last few years.

“Except I never did.” He has made an uneasy peace with his past and shrugs slightly. “Perhaps it was for the best. I certainly learned humility.”

"There must have been bright spots." You can't believe that his entire adult life has been miserable.

“Not as many as there were during our senior year.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I was chasing the dream and didn’t stop to admire the roses.”

"Maybe that's what this is, then." The urge to take it as a compliment to you is there, but it would be conceited to think that he means you were what made it good. "Time to stop and admire the world around you."

“Admire the world around me, huh?” He contemplates it for a moment, wondering where you go so wise, but then he remembers that you have been living your dream for some time. Max just needs to figure out what his new dream is. “I think you are right.”

****

It took a couple of weeks for Max to go through the interview process, and your bosses had pulled you into a conference room with an HR rep for an hour of round table "Are you fucking serious?" about the fact that your name is listed as a personal reference on his resume. In the end they had relented. In eight years with the company you had never had a single mark against you on your file and you're one of the most productive editors on staff. If they're going to take anyone's word at all about a potential new hire, it's going to be yours. Now, two weeks into Max's time as a member of the office's janitorial staff, your coworkers are starting to take notice. They've noticed that you arrive together every morning and leave together every evening, and that sometimes you chat quickly in the hall in passing. Almost all of them have recognized him at this point, of course, and it seems like they've deputized your closest work friend to ask you about him.

Max is eager to please, finding that the work is not beneath him as he might have once imagined. He pushes his cart around the offices with pride and tries to ignore the dirty looks and comments. Especially the prick in editing that purposefully made a mess for him to clean up. Seemingly enjoying watching Max clean up after him. He sees one of your co-works walking up to you so he doesn’t stop, just giving you both a respectful nod and a small smile as he makes his way to the bathrooms for their twice a day cleaning.

It’s good to see him taking pride in what he’s doing now. Tangible results of his work being something that seems to satisfy Max in a way you hadn’t expected but are grateful to see. “Hey Kim.” She’s buzzing directly over to you without being subtle, so you slow down to talk to her.

“Soooooooooo.” She lifts her brows and looks at Max’s retreating back. Instead of the boxy power suits he had been wearing, he was wearing a pair of work chinos and a polo shirt. Perhaps a little more dressy than most janitors but it’s an effort to look professional. “This is interesting.”

“The hallway?” You raise a skeptical eyebrow at her, continuing to walk back toward your desks at the other end of the floor. “I don’t know that I would call it interesting.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She huffs and jostles your shoulder lightly. “Max Lord.” She clarifies, rolling her eyes. “How do you know him?”

Yes, you knew, but that doesn’t mean you’ve exactly been excited for someone to come asking about it. You know what people still think of him. “We grew up together,” you tell Kim honestly. “Same home town in Texas.”

“You grew up with Max Lord?” Her eyes widen and flutter back towards the hallway where Max’s cart is sitting outside the Men’s restroom.

“Yep.” Trying to not make it seem like a big deal, you shrug. “We were friends. Now he’s my neighbor and we’re friends again.”

“Friends.” She’s skeptical about that, but she can’t deny that Max is far more attractive in person than he was in those horrible television ads. “Uh huh, if you want to keep your cards close…” she eyes you, waiting to see if you say anything else.

“What?” Her face says she doesn’t believe you, and she’s fucking right not to but you do your best to look innocent.

“You haven’t noticed that - despite being Max Lord - your friendly, neighbor janitor is a very good looking man?” She scoffs slightly and sends you a knowing look. “And just your type based on the men you like looking at when we drag you out to happy hour.”

“There isn’t any despite being with Max,” you defend instantly, feeling a little indignant. “He’s a good guy who did wrong and he’s doing everything he can to rebuild his life now.” It’s bad enough he got bullied in school, he doesn’t deserve that bullshit at work, too. “And—” Clearing your throat carefully doesn’t help you sound less guilty at all. “I…don’t have a type.”

Her brows shoot up at the vehemence in your voice and she doesn’t remind you that he almost destroyed the entire world with that wish granting trick he had pulled. She doesn’t think that you would listen and you are a good friend. “If you say so.” She murmurs quietly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

"There's nothing for me to get hurt about." A fact which makes swallowing hard for longer than you're proud of, and you avert your eyes back to watching your shoes tread the carpet like you used to do in the halls of your high school walking side by side with him.

“Do you want to come out with us tonight?” Sensing that you are wanting to change the subject, she obliges. “We are going out for apps and drinks.”

“Sure.” It’s been a while since you had a night out with the girls - since Max appeared in your life - and it sounds like a good idea. Like having fun instead of sitting in your apartment hoping and wondering if he’ll come over to say hello after already being at work together all day. “The usual spot?” There’s a bar not far from the office that does great food, and sometimes there’s single guys from other nearby offices to flirt with. It usually makes for an entertaining Friday night.

“Absolutely.” She nods, shooting you a grin.

“Okay. I’ll just let Max know.” It will be the first time since starting his job that he’s committed home alone, but it’s not a difficult trip. He already knows the connections by heart.

“You…..you should bring him.” Kim says after a moment. “Let him hang out socially. Might help.”

"Are you sure?" The look you give Kim is skeptical, knowing that some of the girls you usually get drinks with might not be so warm about getting to know Max. And usually there aren't many guys that tag along. "Are any of the guys coming tonight?"

“There’s Brad and Dan.” She acknowledges, shrugging slightly. “It could be good for them to see him as a normal man.”

"It would be good for them to see normal human interaction." You roll your eyes, but only playfully. Brad is more than a little bit of a horndog and Dan seems to have learned everything about how to be manly from Brad. It isn't a bad thought. Getting to get to know some people outside of their roles at the office is probably a really good idea, actually. Contemplating it for a second, you nod. "I'll invite him. But if he ends up not being able to come it's probably because his babysitter couldn't stay late on short notice, not because he doesn't want to be social."

“Then I won’t tell anyone that he might come.” She decides, knowing that surprising them might them best thing anyway. You both stop at your desk and she reaches out and touches your arm, “I don’t want you to be cross with me.” She tells you. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”

"I'm not cross." Kim has always been a good friend, and you squeeze her hand back gently. "I just wish it were easier for him to get the clean slate he came here for. But you're right. Socializing will be good."

“It doesn’t help that he broadcasted his mistake.” Kim reminds you quietly. “But I have to admit, he’s been nothing but polite since he’s been working here. And the bathrooms are spotless.”

"He knows he did wrong. And everyone deserves a chance to start fresh." At least, that's what you've always said. And so far you haven't had too many people who made you briefly regret your optimism. "It's nice of you to think of inviting him. He really is a good guy underneath everything that happened."

“He’s attractive.” She has to admit, “especially with the darker hair that looks more natural on him.”

“The blonde didn’t suit him.” A nostalgic smile drifts across your face that you barely even notice but Kim surely does. “He dyed it back to its natural color. The way he looked when we were growing up.”

“And you didn’t date?” She smiles skeptically.

“No.” A thing that makes you glance away and fluster more than you’re proud of. “We went to prom together, but we never went steady or anything.”

“Oh.” She nods and bites her lip. “Well, let me know about tonight, okay?” She doesn’t want you to be upset if it’s a case of unrequited love and that seems to be what it is.

“I will.” Your nod is enough to make her comfortable taking away, and it’s about an hour later that you catch Max moving across the hall to restock the kitchenette that services this floor of the building.

Max reasons that the staff of the publishing house is lucky. The management provides complimentary snacks and drinks beyond packs of peanuts and coffee. It’s really impressive and it makes him think of what he would have offered his own staff if Black Gold had actually become successful. He regrets how he had to tell Raquel that he couldn’t pay her that last paycheck, but he had managed to send it to her three months later when he had sold his house.

“Hey.” Slipping into the kitchen to pour a fresh cup of coffee, you grin seeing Max so diligent and seemingly satisfied with each thing he gets done. Any job is good that can be satisfying. “How’s your day?”

"I do not know how some people can be so disgusting in public." He shudders and shakes his head. "The men are the worst....but," he grimaces and lowers his voice. "I do not know how some could keep their....sanitary products unwrapped when they are used."

"Women are absolutely gross." You tell him sagely, nodding with a solemn expression to keep from giggling. "If Alistair had a sister you'd see it full force, I promise."

"I am not unused to women's monthly issues." He insists. "I was married to Alistair's mom and would often buy her the things she needed." When he remembered, which was less often than he should have. It was another regret he had, but he couldn't make up for it now.

"Speaking of things we do monthly." Waggling your eyebrows at the lame segue to make him laugh, your smile spreads when you get a confused look out of him. "Some of our coworkers are going out for drinks and stuff after work tonight. You're invited, if you'd like to call Señora Ramos and ask her to stay with Alisitair a little later."

His expression is one of shock and then he frowns. "I don't know if I should." He admits, glancing towards the door of the break room. "I don't want to cause you issues." He knows that you have taken some flack since you had convinced your bosses to give him a chance. Even if you deny it, he's caused you problems. The last thing he wants is for you to suffer more when you've been an incredible friend to him.

"You're not." And no matter how many times you need to repeat it, you always will. Max is never going to get his confidence back as long as he thinks of himself as a burden. And to you? He is anything but. "It might be good to spend time with people out of the office. Make some new friends?"

"I doubt that." He scoffs slightly and bites his lip. It would be nice to spend some time with you outside of the apartments and the office. Socially. Like that one dinner that he had managed to pay for all those years ago. "Do you want me to go?"

"Of course I do." There is no possible way you would want anything else, unless going out would truly make him unhappy somehow. "I love spending time with you." Yup. That's how that sentence goes. Absolutely.

He quietly thinks about it for a long moment before he nods. "I will call Señora Ramos and see if she can watch Alistair for a few more hours." He decides and despite his worries, his posture straightens and he looks excited.

"You deserve a night to be an adult," you remind him, but the way he straightens has you hoping that he's looking forward to it now. "I'll see you at the end of the day, okay? We can walk over to the bar together."

"I will see you then." He nods, knowing he will have to call the babysitter right away before he can really start looking forward to the idea of going out with you and your friends.

******

When the end of the work day comes, you're eager to leave your desk behind. Max hadn't come by your desk to tell you that there was a problem with plans for the evening so you're looking forward to being able to just relax with your friends - both old and new.

Max finishes up his work early, busting his ass to make sure he was done and able to put all of his supplies away and be ready for you at the elevators on time. He has gotten the go ahead from Señora Ramos and was looking forward to buying you a drink.

"Ready to go?" Though you beg your mind not to brim with memories of him picking you up for prom, they're at the top of your mind anyway as the elevator opens and Max strides out into the lobby.

"I am." He had to dry his hands on a paper towel on the way down to the lobby and shove it in his pocket. "Are you?" He asks, lifting his brows and giving you a chance to reconsider. He wouldn't blame you.

"Absolutely." You would take his hand under different circumstances. As it is, your fingers twist around the strap of your purse as you nod toward the doors. "Kim and some of the others just went ahead to grab us tables."

“Oh.” He frowns slightly but nods. “Then we should hurry, no?”

"It's not a race." It does make you chuckle, though, and you nod toward the doors before starting to walk. "We're five minutes behind at the absolute most."

"Where do you normally go to do this 'happy hour'?" Max asks as he guides you out of the building and lets you turn him in the right direction.

"There's a place called Pollard's a couple of blocks away that has really good drink deals and small plate stuff. I'm a big fan of filling myself with margaritas and flatbread on a Friday night." In fact it was something of a ritual, and you're glad to share that with him if he's inclined to it. Alistair is a strict cheese-only kind of kind when it comes to pizza but there is a whole world of more adult flavours to get behind.

"It has been a long time since I have had a margarita." He admits, wondering how you act when you have alcohol. Genji used to make fun of him for being too earnest, too eager to please when he was drunk. He had switched to champagne to make himself seem more sophisticated but actually hated the taste.

"Then you'll have to share with me." The idea lights you up inside and you nudge him while you walk. "They do this margarita tower thing...it sounds impressive but it's two or three drinks each and ridiculously cheap. Best margaritas in the city."

"Then we will have that." Max grins and nods. "And you like the...flatbreads?" He doesn't know what it is, but you seem happy about having one.

"It's just fancy pizza." You grin when he sounds confused and put your nose in the air while you walk. "Fancy metropolitan pizza. I thought you might like a change of pace from all the cheese all the time."

Max groans and rolls his eyes. "Aliastair has to try something else." He pouts slightly. "Even if it's just pepperoni."

"One day we'll have him eating a huge variety. But not quite yet." That pout hasn't changed in twenty years. It still makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and cuddle it away. Which is why you immediately shove your hands in your pockets when you see it. "For now, we'll have some adult treats."

"Something other than Fruit Loops." Max snorts with a grin. "He had me buy two boxes when we went to the bodega last weekend."

"I promise." You hold up your pinky to him after scurrying across a busy street. "No Fruit Loops."

Chuckling as he rings his own pinky around yours, he feels like he's back in high school with you. Promising that he won't become friends with your cousin, as if that could have ever happened. "I want to buy your drinks and food tonight." He tells you.

"You don't have to do that." In fact, you had been planning on just paying the tab for both of you. Considering that you're the one who invited him, you didn't want him to feel pressured or have to count pennies.

"I want to. To say thank you." He shoves his hands into his pockets and concentrates on the steps in front of him. "For helping me find the job, for being a good friend." He lowers his voice slightly. "For not hating me."

"I could never hate you." Sure there had been things you didn't understand. Or times you were hurt when he lavished attention on other people. Like the girls at college that he had told you about during their holiday breaks. But hate? You could never. "I'm glad to have my best friend back."

Friend. He reminds himself that was what he was to you. No more. He frowns slightly as he suddenly thinks about something that makes his heart drop. "You- is there someone you meet at your happy hour meetings?" He asks, slightly jealous of the idea.

"There's a couple of people who always come. Kim, Jennifer, and Gretchen for sure. And usually Carmen. Apparently this time Brad and Dan are coming, too," you tell him, fully misunderstanding the question.

"And which one are you happiest to see?" Max asks, happy mood suddenly souring.

"I mean...usually Kim, I guess?" It's impossible to stop on the pavement in the middle of Midtown, but you tilt your head and your forehead furrows when he looks upset. "Why? Do you...not like some of them?"

"I see." He shakes his head. "No, I do not know them." He reminds you. "I understand now why it never...." He breaks off and shakes his head again, adopting a charming smile. "Never mind, I am eager to meet your friends."

There's a train of thought there that you can't quite follow, but you nod vaguely and keep walking. The two of you are quiet when you pull open the door to Pollard's and Kim waves enthusiastically from a place in the corner where a half dozen small tables have been pushed together for your group. "Looks like we're over there."

Max hangs back slightly, both wary of everyone's reception of him and mulling over the knowledge that you had never been interested in him because you liked women. He had wondered why you never seemed to want to take things farther with him. One of the reasons he had looked so hard for someone in college, to get you off his mind.

After giving hugs to your friends and sitting down beside Kim, you pull out the chair on your other side for Max. The group looks like they've been told to behave themselves - something you'll thank Kim for later - and you look around you only to notice that he hasn't sat down yet. "Max?"

"Hello." Max nods to everyone and bites his lip. "Do you mind if I join you?" It's important that he doesn't insert himself where he's not wanted. Something that he would do too often in his bid for respectability and investments.

"You're more than welcome," Kim insists, waving her hand at the chair on your other side. Everybody had agreed to play nice tonight for your sake. Generally speaking you're just too nice for your own good, and most of your extended work-friend group is curious. "Food here is great. I don't know if our girl told you or not on the way over."

Our girl. Max smiles politely and sits. "She has told me about the margaritas and the flatbread pizzas." He nods and looks around at everyone and wonders what they really think about him being here. "So I believe I will like it."

"Let me guess," Kim hums, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Margarita tower?" "Of course." It's kind of your go-to anytime you have someone to share it with, and you stretch out with a happy grin at the table. "Max needs a rest from the world of juice boxes and cheese pizza."

"You have a child?" Jennifer asks curiously. "I didn't know that."

"His son's an angel." You offer, smiling at Max, who looks uncomfortable again. "He's my cat's new favorite playmate."

“Alistair is eight.” Max tells them. “The best son anyone could ask for. Sweet and kind, loving.” All traits that Max needed to improve on as an adult, but Alistair’s faith in him, your faith in him, kept him pushing forward.

“Eight is such a good age.” Gretchen goes a little dreamy. Everyone knows her kids are hell on wheels now that they’re teenagers, and she misses when they were little. “Curiosity is at a premium at that age. They’re like little sponges. And so sweet. Oh you’re so lucky.”

"Very lucky." Max can wholeheartedly agree with that. "We have been exploring the museums on the weekends and he asks so many questions that the tour guides don't know." It makes him regret not taking him to more museums while they were in D.C., but he is enjoying the outings with his son and is proud of his curiosity.

“Does he have a library card yet?” She asks, obviously enjoying memories of that age. “My youngest loved the themed story hours until she was eleven or twelve.”

“He doesn’t, but I should get him one.” Max tilts his head in interest. “He loves to read and watch movies.”

“It’s worth it.” Gretchen promises with a smile, and she picks up her menu. “No matter where you are in the city, you can always find a branch.”

“Thank you.” Max replies sincerely. “I will take him to get a card this weekend. We are planning on picnicking in Central Park.” He chuckles. “Which, to Alistair, means pizza at the park.”

“Central Park and the library sounds like a perfect day.” It twists your heart a little - the number of times you’ve thought about what would have happened if you have been brave enough to tell Max how you felt years ago. If Alistair would be your little boy instead of someone else’s. The result has been that you soak up every minute of time that Max’s son is willing to spend with you.

“Would you like to come with us?” Mac is always happy to have you with him. You make the even brighter with your company, just like when you were in high school.

"I'd love to." There's no hesitation for you. No question or even need to consider. Any chance you get to spend with Max, you're going to take it. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together, huh?" Kim asks, amusement twitching in the corner of her mouth. She had thought that you were acting a little defensive earlier because of some unrequited thing, but now she thinks you might just be oblivious to how requited it could be. Not that she would ever get mixed up with a guy like Max Lord, but you seem to have a unique history with the guy.

“She has been very kind to us.” Max is careful to not sully your reputation with telling them how most evenings are spent together and you’ve taught him to make more than mac and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. “New York is very different from D.C. and we are grateful to have someone who knows the area like she does.”

"Rekindling the old friendship, right?" It's a little bit of prodding, sure, but she's also trying to peel away at that Maxwell Lord veneer that they all saw on tv for so long and make him a real person to your other friends.

“I was very lucky to have her as my friend.” Max admits, looking down at his hands shyly. “Believe it or not, I was not well liked when I was younger.” He chuckles at how true that still was, although that was because of his mistakes rather than his misfortune of being poor or an immigrant.

"Neither of us was," you amend, not wanting him to feel singled out by that fact. "If not for Max, I wouldn't have survived senior year. And I definitely wouldn't have gone to college."

“That was a long night.” He remembers, smiling slightly at the memory. “But your admission papers were perfect.” He had sent them off like he had promised and you had been accepted to all of them, with scholarships.

"My mother was furious." A fact which makes you giggle now, so many years later. "Until it became a bragging point. She found out that one of the colleges I applied to was all women, and suddenly I was making a modest, pious choice to educate myself to be a good wife." You roll your eyes heavily, knowing that your years at Sarah Lawrence had radicalized you in ways that your mother could never have dreamed of. "Imagine her disappointment when I went and got a career after college instead of a husband."

“She should be proud of you.” Max shakes his head, still unable to believe what your mother had put you through. “I was. I am. You are in a prestigious position and working on becoming a published author.”

"All thanks to you, it sounds like." Kim is actually smiling, and Gretchen's expression has turned from curious to fond. "You know, this is the most we've ever been able to get her to open up about the old days. Normally she just glosses over any hometown or family questions."

“Oh.” He tosses you a look, hoping that he has not overstepped. “Life was not great for us, but we managed together and we had fun. Prom was possibly the best night of my life until the day Alistair was born.”

"Did you go to prom together?" Gretchen looks like she might melt at that, while Brad and Dan are clearly regretting that there isn't something less girly to talk about.

“Yeah.” Max nods and grins slightly. “It was a good night. We had fun and I still have the pictures we took.”

"You still have those?" Somehow you hadn't expected that, and it makes you light up and soften at the same time. "My mother got rid of my copies...along with pretty much everything else."

“She was always a…difficult woman.” Max sighs. “Genji made sure that she kept them when we divorced but returned all my stuff when we moved to New York.”

"Sounds like your ex-wife and my mother would have gotten along well," you grumble sympathetically when the waitress appears to take your drink orders.

Max defers to you, letting you order first and adding a glass of water in addition to the margarita tower.

Several beers, Gretchen's Long Island Iced Tea, and Kim's white wine selection later, you're all engrossed in looking through food options. The reason you like this place that is it's easy to blend into the background and still get decent service. Yours isn't the only office that empties into this building on a Friday night, and a group of tables nearby is taken up by some folks from a nearby marketing firm that you recognize as fellow regulars. It's just a cordial, relaxed atmosphere that is more than welcome after a long work week.

“They have a lot of options.” Max hums as he looks through the menu. “Have you had anything other than the flatbreads?”

"Not much," you admit with a guilty grin. "Do you want to try something else? I don't mind broadening my horizons a little."

“We could always get the appetizer thing.” He points to a sampler. “And your flatbread. Splitting it and trying more things?”

"If that's what sounds good to you, I'm in." He could suggest almost anything and you would go along with it, so this is barely a compromise. All you want is for him to enjoy himself tonight.

He nods, smiling at you and relaxing slightly. No one has been rude yet and it feels almost like the old days, although he’s still slightly upset he never realized that you were into women.

It's a comfortable evening, with people loosening up after some drinks and food. Brad drags Jennifer away from her seat to dance at one point, even though this is definitely a bar that does not have a dance floor. It's warm and comfortable and there is something extra in the air tonight that is probably just the margaritas talking, but it has you smiling and laughing even more than usual.

As the evening goes on, Max relaxed a little more. Somehow the buttons of his polo pop open and he leans back and ruffles his hand through his hair as the alcohol mellows him out. Sticking close to you and to Kim, he has tried to figure out the dynamic and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to be a good friend and be supportive of you, but he also wishes that he had taken that chance so many years ago and kissed you when it seemed like the right moment for it.

You're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...you'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much... Frankie Valli croons through the speakers in the bar, making your head jump up and your eyes snap over to Max. Like the memory of senior prom wasn't enough, that song throws you back in time harder than a slingshot.

******

Max tries to suppress his nerves, praying his hands aren’t sweaty as he guides you through the song. It’s romantic and one that he’s heard before, making him think of you. At long last love has arrived….And I thank God I'm alive “Are you having a good time?” He asks, desperately hopeful that you don’t hate the night with him.

"Of course I am." You're here with him, there's nothing realistic that you could think of to make it better. Realistic being the key. Those little daydreams you've had about going out to Lover's Lane with him or cuddling up under the stars? Those are just fantasies. "A--are you?"

“I am.” He nods and smiles at you. “Your dress is the prettiest one here.” You had taken his breath away and he was grateful that the corsage matched and his suit complimented it.

"Do you think so?" The pattern is a little old fashioned probably, but you love it. the flowers that you had carefully embroidered for embellishment and the few crystals that you managed to get your hands on had made you hopeful that he would like it, but your mother had scoffed that boys don't care what dress you wear. After that, even though you had finished the dress, you had been a little less giddy about it.

“It is beautiful. I cannot believe that you made it yourself.” He smiles and reaches up from your back to rub the edge of your shoulder strap. “If you wanted to, you could be a very accomplished seamstress.”

"Maybe I'll just make my own dresses." You beam at him, unable to contain how hard you're smiling at such a compliment. "Dinner dresses to go out in. Or even my wedding dress one day."

“It would be breathtaking.” His heart pounds in his chest thinking about your wedding day. Painfully wishing that he was the lucky man who got to meet you in front of the priest.

"Not that...that I think that will happen any time soon." Mostly because you can't picture the day at all with anyone but him, and he doesn't seem to like you that way. Even all through the nice dinner he took you to before the dance tonight, he hadn't tried to hold your hand or anything. Which is okay. It's not like you don't know that boys don't like you. But you're trying not to lose hope before the night is over.

“No, you must get through college first.” Max insists seriously. “It is important that you establish your dreams first.” Max decides that he will become wealthy before he asks you out, not wishing for you to pity him. He had been so nervous tonight he couldn’t form the words to ask you to the movies, even though he wanted to.

"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you." Deciding that this is it - this moment, this dance, this song, you are absolutely beaming at him. "I spoke with the financial department at Sarah Lawrence yesterday. They're actually going to give me enough scholarships and grants that I can manage it."

“What?” Max gasps, lighting up. “That’s great.” He lunges forward to hug you tightly, excited that you were getting to have your dream despite your mother trying to sabotage you.

“It’s all thanks to you.” You hug him back tightly, nearly giggling with excitement. “I never could have gotten it all done alone.”

"You could have." He protests, but he beams at your praise. "We will both have our college degrees in no time and I will know a famous publisher and you will know a powerful businessman."

Know. You will know each other. Nothing more. You try so hard not to let your smile dim and end up clinging to him a little harder. If you weren't so terrified of losing him altogether then you wouldn't care what the other girls said. You could live with being considered 'fast' for kissing him first if you were just brave enough.

You seem so happy by the prospect, he bites his lip and wonders if he imagines that you sometimes look at him like you want to kiss him. Perhaps it is just his own wants projecting onto you, he has a habit of doing that, but he cannot help it with you. If he had one person in the world to save, it would be you. Whispering your name, he gathers the shreds of his courage and presses slightly closer to you.

For a second you can't tell if it's your imagination or if the world really has stopped moving around you. Your vision has narrowed down to just him and he's filled your other senses -- but when does he not? When do you ever think of anyone in the whole world before Max? Sometimes you could swear he thinks of you as more than just a friend, and right now his hands grasping you a little tighter has your heart jumping directly into your throat as it starts to beat wildly out of control.

Staring into your eyes, Max wets his lips, finding them suddenly dry and chapped. He doesn't want your (hopefully) first kiss to be dry. He swallows again and decides to go for it. His fingers flex on your hip and his eyes drop down to your lips as he leans in more. "Ladies and gentleman! It is time to crown our prom King and Queen!"

The sheer volume of the announcement has you both jumping out of your skins, startling apart from each other like a cartoon and breaking the moment. You could have sworn that he was inching closer to you. He looked like he was going to kiss you. And now you've completely lost it.

Max's heart sinks down to his toes and he gives you a small smile before the two of you turn towards the stage. Cursing himself for not being fast enough, the moment is gone and with it, his courage.

******

“Did you have fun tonight?” Walking from the subway stop to your apartment building, you have your hands once again shoved into your pockets in that long-established custom of keeping yourself from reaching for him. A few margaritas each has you feeling loose and relaxed, but it isn’t like you’re not in control of yourself.

"It was really fun." Max sounds bewildered, as if he was surprised that having drinks with your co-workers, his co-workers could be a pleasant time. "I see why you like her." He still feels bad that he hadn't noticed it before, but he's trying to be there for you.

"Bars are girls?" You ask him, wondering why he gave a building a pronoun. Maybe it's one of those weird things like how cars and ships are female somehow.

"Nooooooo." He manages to giggle slightly, fully feeling the effects of the alcohol now. "Not the bar." He snorts and nearly trips over a piece of the sidewalk that has lifted up and he stumbles forward before straightening and looking down in bewilderment. "Kim."

"Did you not like her before tonight?" If he had disliked her you hadn't noticed, and that makes you feel a bit silly. But the silly might also be the couple of margaritas you had.

"No, I like her." He shakes his head, not willing to let you think he doesn't like your crush. "I think that she's nice. I see why you like her." He stresses. "I'm jealous."

"Why are you jealous?" That makes you frown very deeply, and your nose wrinkles. "She's just my friend." Not your best friend, or anything more -- like you've always considered him to be.

"I can't help it." Max hangs his head and his shoulders round slightly. "I will get past it. Support you."

"Stop." At the front door of your walk up, you swing around in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stand a little bit taller and actually look at you. "What are you talking about? Support me how?"

"By being happy for you." He frowns and motions towards you like it should be obvious.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Your head drops and shakes animatedly, a pout turning down the points of your lips. "I'm fine, I guess? But I'm not...happy happy."

"Because you have not told her." Max nods, understanding and reaches out and takes your hand. "You must, otherwise you will live with regret. Like I do."

He isn't making any sense, but his large hand covering yours is warm and making you fuzzier than even the tequila had. "I should tell Kim that she's my friend?" You ask, trying to understand him. "She knows that already."

"No." Max winces and shakes his head. "You should tell her that...." he closes his eyes, in pain for the lost chance, or maybe the chance that never was. His unrequited heart aching. "That you love her." He whispers.

The swirling confusion that started at your toes and went all the way up to fogging your brain stops dead, and all of a sudden you're standing up - stone sober - in front of Max with a clarity that makes you feel more foolish than you ever have in your life. More foolish than the first time you ever met a lesbian, way back in college. "But..." you look at him with resignation in you somewhere. "I don't. I mean she's my friend and I love her platonically but...did you think I was gay this whole time?"

"You shouldn't have to hide it." Max swallows and opens his eyes. "I figured it out, it- it hurts because I know that my feelings would never be returned, and I wondered if I imagined the times you looked like you wished- it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am your friend and I will be here for you. Be your friend, no matter if I am jealous."

If the last revelation hadn't instantly sobered you, this one certainly would. You're practically gawking at him in the middle of the sidewalk as people move around you in all directions. "What feelings?" You insist - demand - feeling your heart strangle in your chest so tightly it could rip into pieces.

His shoulders round again and he sends you a look that is a mixture of humiliation, apology and heartache. "Please don't- I had tried so hard to move on from you in college, to pretend that it didn't matter that you would never date poor Max." He chokes out. "You- you have been exactly like you were in high school, of course my infatuation with you came back."

"Is this some kind of joke?" You never thought that Max would be cruel enough to pull a practical joke this personal on you, but your hands retract and you cross them over your chest like a very poor set of armor. "If it is, it's mean, and I never thought you were mean. But pretending you had a crush on me when I've spent my entire life in love with you is just cruel."

Max frowns, unsure of what you mean when he has just told you his feelings, but he swallows harshly. "I- I didn't- I'm sorry." He gulps, having completely missed your confession of love. "I know you don't - it's - I can't help it. You have always been the girl I wish I kissed that night at prom." He murmurs quietly, shoulders slumping even more and he turns to walk away, sure that you want nothing to do with him now.

It's too much to process and yet your mind gets through it at lightning speed. Fast enough with your reflexes to throw yourself through the other door of your apartment building and end up in front of him, your body is reacting a lot faster than you can even tell it to. He's barely inside the lobby before you're in front of him, and both of your hands hit his chest at the exact same time. Grasping the collar of his shirt to bring him down to you, this is the moment of boldness that all missed opportunities has been building to. If you miss this, you miss everything. And unlike prom, there is no dj to interrupt you this time when you pull him down to you and press your lips to his.

The alcohol and the melancholy fade instantly and his eyes widen, his groan of surprise loud against your lips but he doesn't pull away. He can't. Not when he has you pressed up against him and kissing him. His arms snake around your body and he pulls you close, deepening the kiss and feeling you melt against him.

It seems completely impossible for this to be happening, but he has deepened the kiss instead of pushing you away, letting you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips and inviting you inside the map the contours of his mouth the way you've dreamt of ten thousand times. Your hands clutch each other inelegantly, holding on for dear life, but you don't care how awkward it looks from the outside - you've been waiting for this moment for more than twenty years.

All he can think of is you. How you sound, how you taste. So much better than his imagination twenty years ago and even just today. Unable to believe that this is real as he fulfills a fantasy he never thought he would get to have.

In true city-life fashion, what breaks you apart is not a lack of enthusiasm, but the grumbling of a loud neighbor who shouts, "Get a room!" As he storms out the front door with his arms thrown up in disgust, as though two people kissing is the most offensive thing he has seen in his entire life.

Max flushes and looks back at you, wondering how you feel about the kiss that was just shared and his heart is pounding in his chest. “I- what was that?” He asks, unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face.

"It's what I wish I had done in high school," you admit, the adrenaline making your heart beat wildly in your ears as you seem to vibrate in place. "What I wish I had done every single day. I was scared my whole life, Max. But then I finally said it and you didn't hear me and that scared me more than anything else in the world. That I could have told you and you still didn't know."

“You- you like me?” He asks dumbly, shaking his head and points to himself. “Me?”

"Yes, you." But since Max has had as terrible a time believing in his own self-worth as you have, there is no bite to your insistence. "Since well before senior year, if I'm honest. But courage isn't my strong suit."

“I- you don’t like Kim?” He frowns in confusion and closes his eyes. “Me. You like me. You’ve liked me.” He repeats softly. “Why?”

"Because...even though we were different we had important things in common. We had a whole town and our own families telling us to give up on our dreams and we worked our way up from the dirt. Both of us. You're...you're so smart, Max. And so much sweeter than you have ever given yourself credit for. And unbearably handsome, even when we were teenagers and everyone was some kind of gawky and awkward. You just...you made me want to be a better, stronger person." You shrug slightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious all over again, and shove your hands back in your pockets. "I always thought if I learned enough about the world and showed you I could be as smart as you that you might...you might think I could be more than just your friend. But when you came home from college you would always tell me about other girls and I just...I figured that if I had ever had a chance, I lost it on prom night."

“I didn’t think I had a chance.” Max admits quietly. “Believe me, I wanted you. You were just always way too good for me.” He shrugs his shoulders and shoves his own hands in his pockets. “I was lying about the girls. No one was talking to me. Not until Genji. I was trying to impress you, but you just seemed to be okay with it, so I thought you were just my friend.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” you murmur, wishing you had been better at seeing the signs or braver about asserting your own desire. “Even if it was with someone else…even if it broke my heart.”

“I wish I had told you how I felt. Alistair could have been ours together. But I would not have wanted you to leave me like Genji.” Max murmurs.

“I wouldn’t have left.” He may not believe you, but it’s true. Some people would probably call you blind with devotion. Maybe it is? Who knows. “When you were up there…Doing your broadcast?” The breath you let out is shaky at best. “I just kept wishing you could hear me. That that might make a difference to you somehow…I guess it didn’t work.”

Max frowns slightly and tilts his head. “What was I supposed to hear? There was one voice in my head that kept telling me to be happy.”

“To remember your happiness?” You look up at him with such hope that it is almost too much, but you can’t help it. “Maybe it was conceited of me. Or desperate. I just wanted you to remember that people love you as you are.”

“To remember my happiness.” Max nods. The influx of emotions and wishes were much more than he had anticipated and it seemed to jumble together at one point but that voice stood out. “That is...something I am working on.” He admits quietly.

"If that isn't me...or you don't want to..." Looking around reminds you that you are very much in public still and you press your lips together nervously. "Maybe we should talk about this upstairs?"

“Upstairs. Yes, upstairs.” He glances around and flushes slightly. “We should talk upstairs. And I can let Señora go home. Alistair should be asleep.”

When you make it up to his apartment, Señora Ramos is watching a movie on tv without a care in the world. Alistair apparently tired himself out reading an hour ago and all has been quiet since.

“So-“ as soon as the door closes behind Señora Ramos, Max is nervous and claps his hands together. Feeling vulnerable now that you know everything. “Do you….want….” He looks around. “A drink! Do you want a drink?”

“Maybe just water.” After the amount you both had earlier, and what you have to talk about, you want a chance to clear your head.

“Water is good.” He agrees, bobbling his head and rushing towards the small, galley style kitchen that he was lucky to have. Some apartments didn’t even have a kitchen.

“Max…” Leaning against the counter, you take down two glasses and slide them over to him. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

“Sure I do.” Max snorts, opening the freezer to grab the ice tray. “It’s not like you tell the girl you’ve had a crush on since you were twelve that you thought she was a lesbian.”

“I’m still wondering why you thought that.” Mostly out of curiosity, of course. Though the news that he’s liked you as long as you’ve liked him is both satisfying and a little bittersweet. You could have had something so long ago if just one of you had been brave.

“You said that Kim is the person that you most enjoyed, you never talk about any men, now or back in school.” He shrugs, mildly embarrassed. “I know that people have been….more open….than they were back when we were close. Maybe…I don’t know, maybe I thought it made sense.”

“I never talked about boys I liked to you because I’ve always liked you.” It isn’t exactly an easy thing to admit to him, but the cat is very much out of the bag at this point. “Kim has been my closest friend for a long time. I absolutely adore her. But my love for her isn’t romantic. She’s like the sister I never had.”

"I am foolish." Max hangs his head and sighs. "I am sorry." He murmurs quietly.

“Please don’t be.” Stepping cautiously closer to him in his little kitchen, you take the glass of water he hands you and have a sip. “If you hadn’t thought so, you might not have said anything. And then we never would have come clean.”

He hadn't looked at it that way and he bites his lip as he watches you. "What do you want?" He asks softly, still irrationally fearful of rejection, but also hopeful.

It’s a vague question, but the context is so specific. Specific enough that you are shocked he feels the need to ask, but grateful that he isn’t simply assuming. “Ideally?” You ask, and wait for him to nod shyly. “I want what I’ve always wanted. To be with you. But I understand if that’s too much to ask.”

"I- you know that people hate me, no?" He asks, scrunching up his brows. "Mi amor, it would be hell to be with me. Are you sure that is what you want?"

It isn’t a trick question, but you put down your water after another sip and hoist yourself up to sitting on the edge of the counter. “I want you to respect me. To love me and treat me well, and listen to my day regardless of whether it was good or bad. I want you to trust me and talk to me and confide in me and be silly with me. I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks of you. Be a good partner to me and I’ll be one to you, and that’s all that matters.”

"I do respect you." He promises. "I wasn't a good partner, not to Genji, but I want to be one. I will be one for you." He knows that he has made mistakes, but he feels like he won't make them again. His ideas for success have changed and as long as he can take care of his son and provide him with a happy, safe childhood, he will consider himself blessed.

"Then that's all I need to know." The shy smile on your lips tips up the corners of your mouth and you shrug guiltily. "Almost all." You admit when he gives you an incredulous look. "I also kinda want to know if you meant it when you called me amor a second ago..."

His eyes widen when he realizes his slip of the tongue and his tan complexion darkens further as he flushes in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say it, but it was something that he thought often. "Yes." He admits quietly, but his shoulders don't round. "I did."

“Then that’s all I need to know.” You know your cheeks are burning but you truly don’t care. This is more than half a lifetime of pining coming to a head right now and you are so unbelievably touched that you aren’t the only one that has held onto the flame this long. It makes it special in a very unconventional way - as if you were being rewarded somehow.

He doesn't quite understand what you might be thinking but he nods. "Yes." He murmurs, wondering what he could say right now that would be interesting and flirty.

“So…” You shift slightly on the counter and tilt your head at him. “Are you sure you want to be with me, then?”

Max has had to bluff his way through many meetings, promising things that he couldn’t give the men who wanted to invest with him, or were thinking of investing with him. He doesn’t use that smarmy, painted on charm to reassure you. This time, it’s his own thin courage that has him stepping closer and reaching out to hold onto your waist as he steps closer again. “Yes.” His voice breaks softly from how low it dips. His lips curving up slightly. “Very sure.”

"Better late than never, right?" The warmth of his hands seeps through your clothes, waking up every inch of your skin and making you sit up a little straighter as he comes closer. That little smile of his is contagious.

“Only a lifetime of regret and enough stories to fill a book.” Max snorts.

"Some things are good enough to slog through all the hell for," you remind him softly. "It gave you Alistair."

“It brought me back to you. As well.” He reminds you, smiling at the thought. “But I want to do something else right now.”

"Oh you do, do you?" There is a distinctly boyish - maybe even mischievous - expression on his face that you've never seen before and it works for him. "What would that be?"

“I want to kiss you.” He admits, leaning in and his eyes flicker to yours. “Can I kiss you?” You had kissed him before, so he wants to do this.

It's beyond you to not be excited about it, even more than a little giddy as you nod and let your legs naturally slide apart to make a place for him to stand between them at the counter. "As much as you want."

He steps forward again, this time fitting himself in the space you allocated for him and leans in more, pressing the evidence of his desire against your belly as he cups your cheek and drops his lips onto yours.

The first press is soft but sure, and you almost startle feeling him press so obviously against you, but it is delicious. Instead of drawing away or jumping back or politely pretending not to notice, you lean in that much more surely and trap his hard on between both of your bodies. You may not have soaked through your panties just yet, but the heat rolling off of you is unmistakable. as unmistakable as your enthusiasm for kissing him again.

Groaning, he’s happy you don’t push him away. Instead you’re pulling him closer and his arms are wrapping around you to deepen the kiss.

Your knees bracket his hips, holding him tight against you and letting yourselves get lost in the moment. It's slower this time, deepening less frantically but no less ardently. Twenty years of wanting from both of you is being poured into this moment and you'll be damned if you're going to rush it.

He doesn’t try to push this beyond a kiss, although he aches to. He has no idea how long he leans into you, making out with you as if you are teenagers again.

No one could accuse either of you of a lack of enthusiasm. If you had not already been sitting on this counter you might have swept everything off of it just to get him to sit you here, enjoying what easy access you have to all of the most important parts of him. Access that - despite the fact that you have absolutely soaked through your panties and probably your pants as well - you don't know if you should be taking. Pulling yourself back from the edge of control and catching your breath is tricky, but you focus your eyes on him and feel your heart skip that all-important beat. "Max..." As much as you want to whine, your voice pitches down to be soft and rasping. "Is it too fast to ask if I can touch you?"

He’s conflicted. Not because he thinks it’s too fast, but he’s still coming to terms with the idea you want him. “You-“ he clears his throat when his voice breaks again. “You can do whatever you want to me.” He answers honestly.

"Then we should not stay in this kitchen." The grin you flash him is mischievous but oh so promising, and your hands slide up his shoulders to let your fingers just touch the trim edge of his hair. "Take me to bed, Max."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Maxwell Lord #Max Lord #Maxwell Lord x you #Maxwell Lord x reader #Maxwell Lord x female reader #Maxwell Lord x f!reader #WW84 #Wonder Woman 1984 #The One That Got Away #high school crush #friends to lovers

[simpingcowboy]

Kinktober 2022 Keep A Secret

Day 31: Free choice, Anonymous Sex // Size Kink

Pairing: Max Lord x F!Reader Word Count: 2.4 K+ Warning: SMUT, anonymous sex, piv sex, oral (f! receiving), size kink (aka big dick Max Lord), cervix stimulation, some power dynamics, some rough sex, creampie Summary: An open ad for anonymous sex lands Maxwell Lord in your bed. Can you keep a secret? A/N: No!!! I was a little late to the last day of Kinktober! But I had so much fun :) Thank you to @absurdthrist for her wonderful prompts! Decided to end the month by being a size queen for Max Lord <3

You posted it.

You really posted it.

The reality hit you like a ton of bricks when the paper came that Sunday morning. Right under the personal column. Your ad finally made it to print.

"Looking For Anonymous Sex- Help me live my ultimate fantasy. Seeking something fun and mutually beneficial. Simple. Come to my home, where I'll be waiting bare and pliant for you and use me. I don't want to know you. Not your name, or face anyways. Though I hope we can know many other things about each other. Call me any weeknight after 7pm to talk."

Ending your ad with a basic description, age, body type, ethnicity/race.

It was out there, though part of you was embarrassed to have published such a thing, a bigger part of you was waiting for your perfect knight in armor to answer your call.

The phone rings at 7:30, half an hour past when you'd said you'd be free to call. The sound jolts you from the dishes you'd been doing. It could be anyone you tell yourself, trying to ease your nerves. There was no guarantee it was even about the ad. You grip the phone in hand tightly, anxiety screaming at you not to answer. But you do-

"Hello?"

Max is just as nervous. Calling a stranger up about their sex ad…he felt ridiculous- stupid even. But he couldn't get it any other way. People always knew him. He got recognized everywhere. He wasn't afforded the luxury of anonymity that most people were. Most people who did try to sleep with him were after his money. It was always obvious, and always a total turn off. He just wanted a quick fuck. A tight warm hole to sink himself into after a long day- was that so much to ask for?

"Hello, I'm uh calling about-" fuck how do you even do this? "about the ad?"

"Y-yes…what about it?"

"I'm interested in what you're offering."

You smile softly to yourself. "Brilliant, well…can you tell me a bit about yourself?

Max clears his throat, "Yes. I'm in my 40's, single," he clarifies " average body- I suppose."

"And- if I may ask- how big are you, you know down there?"

You hear a small chuckle on the other end of the line. He was obviously humored by your straightforwardness. It put him a bit more at ease. After all it was your ad he was responding to, he had no reason to be shy. You both wanted this.

"Big." He states boldly. "9 inches." Max hears the small intake of breath you try to hide from him. "Is that enough for you? I keep my hair trimmed too- if that is of concern."

Enough? You think back to yourself. That thing might kill you. "Enough. Definitely enough."

A smirk grows over his face. Max's confidence was often faked, but this was all real. No faking needed. He was packing, he was good, and he knew it. "Good. Any other questions for me?"

"How do you feel about condoms?"

"I wear them every time." One kid is enough he thinks to himself.

"Good answer." You smile over the phone. He seems polite at least "I will host. What days and time work best for you?"

"I am free most weekday evenings."

You're doing it. You're really doing it. You think to yourself, all your late night fantasies are about to come true. "Tuesday 7:30, does that sound good?"

"Yes, that's perfect."

"I will host. Can you take down my address?"

"Y-yes! I'm ready." He replies, scrabbling to take his pen and paper in hand.

You offer up your address. Some nerves still rising to the surface. A stranger. You're offering up your home to a stranger. And soon you'll be giving him much more than that.

He speaks for the final time. "I will see you then. Tuesday 7:30 pm."

"Until Tuesday." With that you hang up the line. You practically fall to the floor, unable to believe it.

And so…you wait.

On your back, legs spread on the bed. Already dripping with anticipation. You fill the time by focusing on your breathing, and running your hands over the soft sheets. Excitement building in you with each passing moment.

Max comes in and locks the door behind him.

He enters slowly. He'd driven himself there, not even wanting his driver to know where he'd gone. Looking around, he makes lots of little notes about you. You'd obviously cleaned up before he'd arrived, still there were so many little pieces of your character all over the apartment.

A shuffling noise catches his attention, his cock jumps at the sound. You're here- this is about to happen. He quietly shuffles into the bedroom, eyes going wide when he sees you. That pretty blindfold on, you probably didn't even know he was looking at you right now. He admires the sight of you. Even from the doorway he could see the glisten of your folds, the deep breaths you were taking in anticipation of his arrival. He could look at you forever, but that would have to wait another day. For right now, all his blood was rushing to a different head.

He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. Max puts a hand on the bed, a silent announcement of his arrival. He slowly broaches into your space, his fingers just barely dusting over your arm. A soft whine escaping you. Electricity racing through your body as he touches you for the first time. A wave of slick flooding out of you as the sensation. He's real and he's here!

"Pretty thing…waiting so patiently for me." He purrs at you.

The stranger's voice is even nicer in person. That accent elevates a level of curiosity about him. Who was the man with the thick sultry voice? There was an odd sense of familiarity to his voice. You're almost certain you've heard it before…

His moves are emboldened by your whine, a cry for him. "I'll take care of you, Hermosa." He allows himself to slip into his mother tongue. You weren't exactly in a position to judge him either way. He runs a large hand over your chest, palming at your breasts. Enjoying the way your body reacts to his touch.

"¡Qué Bonita! I will enjoy playing with you." He affirms, giving another long glance over your frame, his eyes settling between your legs.

His breath catches at the sight. Your folds glimmered in the soft light of your room. You were already so affected by him. Max makes his way between your legs, a hand never leaving you. Without a word, he leans down taking a long lick up your core. A loud moan rips through your body at the intrusion. The stranger eagerly laps at your wet cunt, greedily taking in your taste. He suddenly pulls away from you, a whine coming from you.

"I'll do more next time, Bebita. Now I want to see what you will do for me."

A large finger burrows itself into you, letting him feel how tight you'll be. Already he was planning for next time. Planning all the ways he'd enjoy you if you let him. He pulls out all too quickly. Hand moving down to free his hard cock from his pants. He thinks briefly about taking his time to undress before deciding he doesn't want to be that vulnerable yet. Then you feel it. He rubs the length of his long cock along your mound, letting his precum leak over your sex.

"Do you feel me Hermosa?¿Te gusta? Touch." He grabs your hand, bringing it to his cock, letting you feel along the length. It's heavy. A strong pulse running through the entirety of it.

You whimper at him, desperate to have it in you. "Please? Please fuck me!"

A smirk grows along his face. "Let me put a condom on first, Cariño." He pulls back momentarily, pulling a condom from his pocket and putting it on. He returns your hand to him. "You feel it's on, yes?

This is when you decide you like this stranger. "Yes, I feel it." His thoughtfulness brings a warm heat to your face.

"Good," he smiles at your softened expression, obviously not expecting him to have shown you that he did actually put the condom on. "Are you ready?"

You nod expectedly, "Please- I want it!"

He lines himself up, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick gathering it along his cock. "Gonna feel so good." He slowly sinks himself into you.

The thickness of his cock almost threatening to rip you open. In this moment you feel so glad he'd taken the opportunity to eat you out- even if just for a couple minutes. You'd need all the lube you could get to take him. Then he sinks and sinks and sinks into you…it almost feels like he never stops. He hits along your back wall, the sensation panging you with a soft pain. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before. Your hand goes down to touch where you're connected, realizing he's not even in all the way yet.

"Dios mio...Gonna have to go slow…tight little thing." The stranger rocks his hips, urging you to take more of his incredible length. "Just like that."

As soon as he sunk into you it's like all his problems disappeared. The stress of these last days, weeks, months instantly being lifted off his shoulders. You felt like heaven around him, tight and perfect.

He smiled to himself as he hit along your cervix. "Sweet Bebita," He leaves a series of kisses along your neck. 'It'll fit. Just relax for me." He fucks you with slow, shallow thrusts, carving you open for him. "Qué bonita...Ay, mí pequeña princesa... Eres perfecto." His praise continues to fall from his lips as he kisses you all over.

Finally, he makes it in. His cock fully buried to the hilt. You both sigh out in relief. You're so full, and frankly- amazed he made it in all the way. The way he rubs against your cervix was a new sensation. It was a sharp feeling, not the most comfortable but not painfully either. But just knowing he was so deep in you was enough to make it worth it. Each thrust of his hips stuffing you so full.

"Good girl. Taking all of me." The stranger grips your hips tightly. "Now, I'm going to really fuck you."

That was just the start of it. Now it'd became a regular thing. You two got more comfortable together over time. You'd also gotten much more accustomed to his length overtime, slowly you began to think you'd never be able to take anything smaller again. Eventually you even decided that condoms were no longer a necessity. Even with so much shared between you two, you held limited knowledge about him, other than the intense pleasure he provided you. But that's just how you both liked it.

This time was the same as always. He'd silently enter your home, knowing you were patiently waiting for him. No words were ever exchanged outside of an announcement of his arrival.

"There you are." He'd say, running his large hand up your body. "Missed you."

This time he had you on your hands and knees, bent over for him. Letting him fuck you an inch within your life. He was relentless. An incredible stamina for a man his age. With time and trust you'd began getting kinkier. Letting him get rougher, fill different holes, truly use you in all the ways you desire.

He fucked into you hard. Your shared cries of pleasure filling the empty space of your apartment. The harsh sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls with each brutal snap of his hips. He loves this. This arrangement was all he ever wanted, and you were always so good for him. Now that he had it, he barely knew how he ever did without it.

The stranger gripped onto your head tightly, contorting your neck up straight. He leveraged you to pound impossibly deeper, harder. Each thrust into you rubbing the long length of him against your g spot. Unknown to his, with each pull of your hair, the blindfold slowly slipped off your eyes. You didn't notice either until you'd opened your eyes. You squinted, adjusting to the light. But before you got the chance to say anything- you saw it. His reflection in the mirror.

No- it couldn't be. Oh but it could… You couldn't pry your eyes away. That usually perfectly molded blonde hair flopped in front of his brow. Those dark brown eyes, now lust blown. That perfectly crescent nose snarled up in a groan. You did know that accent…you'd heard it a million times on TV before.

Max Lord.

You'd been fucking Maxwell fucking Lord.

When you stopped moaning for him he knew something was off. His eyes snap up to meet yours in the mirror. Momentarily mesmerized by the sight of your eyes for the first time. He quickly shifts into an impassioned glare. He knew that you recognized him by the way you stared open mouthed in awe at his reflection. A large hand comes up to cover your eyes, blocking your view of him. Max leans down, his softened stomach pressing along your back. He leans in close and dangerous into your ear.

In a low growl he tells you "Shh, don't ruin this."

Within a minute, he's cumming, filling you up with ropes of his cum. He pants over you breathing heavily from his orgasm. Those large warm arms you'd grown so familiar with wrap around you in a tight embrace holding you tight to him.

"You won't say anything? Will you, Hermosa?"

Your mind races with a thousand questions…like 'Why would alleged playboy millionaire Maxwell Lord be looking for girls in the local newspaper?' but he was too good…this arrangement was too good. And you'd be damned before you gave it up that easily. "No…no I won't."

"Good girl."

He readjusts the blindfold, recovering your eyes. Max slowly slips out of you, shuffling his way off the bed.

"I'll see you next week." He says simply while redressing himself and just as always- silently slipping his way out of your home.

#Am writes #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #Max Lord smut #max lord x F!reader #max lord fanfic #max lord fanfiction

[exquisiteserotonin]

La Petit Mort

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Secret Pedro Character x Original Female Character (OFC)

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: A gloved gentleman misses his train and meets and enchanting stranger

Warnings: Sex with black leather gloves, PiV sex, dubious consent, BDSM, use of a crop, titty spanking, pussy spanking, spanking, oral (F! receiving), use of restraints, degradation, sex work, autoerotic asphyxiation, PLEASE READ: TWIST ENDING (Guess the character!)

A/N: All this came about bc of this pic:

Please enjoy and much love these ladies as always @imalrightllama @magpiepillsjunior @youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207 @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime

Please enjoy and as always likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated

He stood stoically, half of his lithe body illuminated by the large, spherical wall sconce. The rest of his body melted into the shadows. The taut, black leather of his gloves creaked as his right hand stretched open and closed, open and closed. With the other hand, he tightened his grip around the handle of his deep, mahogany attaché case. He pursed his lips as he waited among the ever-growing trickle of commuters for the next train.

As the sound of it rushed closer, the trickle intensified to a steady flow. He maneuvered through the crowd, seeking openings that would bring him closer to the edge of the platform where the doors of the train would open. The rumble of the approaching train sent a gust of air that tousled his dark hair over his forehead and brushed through the whiskers of his mustache. More rush hour commuters dashed towards the platform, tightening the open spaces between bodies.

The train finally pulled in and the mad rush of people surged forward. As he tried to force his way through the crowd, a young woman careened into him, pushing both of them away from the platform and back into the crowd.

“Goodness gracious!” She huffed, the waves of her shiny, dark waves falling into her face, “I am so sorry, sir.”

Her warm body pressed against his, leaning forward at the perfect angle for him to catch a glimpse of her. The curve of her supple cleavage was irreverently held by the hint of black lace of her bra. With a gentle assuredness, he moved her off him. His eyes were blessed with a better view of her curves that were accentuated by her perfectly tailored navy blue blouse and her beige pencil skirt.

“It’s fine,” he paused, looking down to see her pushing her waves from her fresh yet elegant face. “Some people can be assholes,”

“I really hope you weren‘t in a hurry,” she said, her eyes softened with empathy as she shifted the weight of her feet to lean towards him again.

She placed a gentle and apologetic hand on his arm before retracting it in quick uncertainty. He smiled, finding a feeling that belied something different from her perfectly sweet face. A giggle arose from her as she scrunched her nose and brushed a few waves behind her ear.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous,” she initiated, her brows soft and expectant, “but would you want to grab a coffee with me?”

Oh she was good, he thought as his eyes continued to peruse the expression she held on her face. She projected an unexpected air of naivete. This was how fools fell in love with her. He smirked at the thought, seeing beneath the facade that she needed more than a poor doting puppy of a man.

“Something tells me you don’t hear the word no very much,” he grinned and then gestured towards the Exit sign. “Lead the way.”

He followed her towards a nearby exit. She walked with a strut not lost on him as he admired the way her skirt hugged her curves almost like a second skin. The view of her derrière in front of him as they ascended the stairs was like his own private show.

They were met by bustling side walks filled with pedestrians, trees hanging over them to listen to their conversations. He moved to find a stride next to her. The way she glided across the pavement next to him parted crowds and turned heads, while making the path before her her own private runway.

“Do you live in the city?“ She asked, her voice tinted with genuine curiosity.

“Upper East Side,” he responded like he was simply stating what day of the week it was.

“A high roller!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening with playful delight. “Well this is my side of town and I just know you’ll love this place.”

She talked a lot, he noted as they found themselves in front an unassuming-on-the--outside coffee shoppe. Its name adorned the old fashioned black eves. Inside revealed an entirely different aesthetic, aside from the rustic stone wall, the counters and chairs were sleek, modern, and minimal. They waited as an ultra modern, but disaffected, young barista served them their overpriced coffee. His new companion never seemed to lose the soft smile on her glossy lips as she spoke to him.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice like velvet and silk caressing his ears, “what do you do?”

“I’m a financial analyst,” he responded plainly, between sips of coffee.

She pouted, resting her eyes for a brief moment on the fingers of his leather gloves before she leaned forward to meet his gaze, “Well that sounds incredibly boring.”

He laughed, bubbles foaming at his mustache as he took another sip of expensive coffee.

As he pulled his cup away, her eyes traveled from where she beheld his rich, brown eyes and then moved to admire his lips. She brought her soft fingertips forward to brush away the foam that dusted the whiskers of his mustache. With unspoken synchronicity, she licked her lips the same time he licked his own. Her touch to his mustache was nearly enough for him to press his lips to her fingertips.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, squeezing her small hand making his massive hand seem that much larger. He held her to him when she dared to move her delicate fingers away from his lips.

“I live nearby,” she exhaled as she slipped her fingers between his.

Together, they left. With each step, they burned the pavement with the heat of their desire until they reached her building. The elderly doorman acknowledged the two of them with the tip of his hat. His eyes crinkled, adding wrinkles to their corners as gave him a knowing glance. It was a look that whispered that he was not the first man to have walked with her through the lavish and opulent foyer of her building.

Hands still intimately intertwined, they journeyed floor by floor on the elevator until it stopped with a sing-song chime of an old bell at the fourteenth floor. They dashed down the pretentiously wall-papered hallway until they reached her door.

As soon as they walked in, she led him to her bedroom and sat him at the edge of her bed. With one pull on the zipper at the back of her skirt, the slinky fabric pooled at her feet. The intensity of their locked gazes towards one another never stopped even as she slowly slipped off her silky blue shirt. He pressed his lips together beneath his mustache as he took in the beautiful shape of her body. He sat mesmerized by the way the lace of her brassiere cupped her supple breasts and the way her panties hugged her hips and clung to her pussy where she had grown wet with desire.

“Fuck,” he exhaled as he scanned up the length of her body, “you’re beautiful.”

He slowly rubbed a gloved hand to her thigh, massaging it, until he circled it back to grab a handful of her ass to pull her towards him. He kissed her navel as he gripped her waist with both hands. He slid them slowly upwards until he was squeezing and kneading her breasts against the pretty lace she wore.

The lids of his eyes hung low with dreamlike desire as he freed her nipples from the confines of her bra, licking, flicking, and circling them with his tongue. She threw her head back at the heat of his touch and circled her arms around his neck, coursing her fingers through his dark waves.

He pulled her tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as he spun her around onto the bed. She pressed herself back into the mattress and waited for his every move.

She lay there like a piece of art ready and willing to be defiled.

He smirked and thought to himself, the anticipation is one of my favorite parts.

He reveled in how she stalked him with her eyes, from the way he carefully took off his tailored, tan coat to how he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt down to the middle of his chest to the way that he rolled up the sleeves with his glove adorned hands using the intense precision of a surgeon. One step forward elicited another twist and wiggle of her hips. A second step garnered another heaving breath. The muscles of his forearms strained as he returned to the edge of the bed, carrying his attaché case with him, setting it next to her. As though he were ready to diffuse a bomb, he opened it to reveal a set of wrist restraints, ankle restraints, a crop, a choker along with other sensual accouterments.

She arched an eyebrow and her eyes glimmered as she licked her lips before teasing him with a playful pout.

“You’re very forward with someone you’ve only just met,” she roused, shifting her hips back and forth on her soft sheets. “How can you be sure I’d be into all this?

The tease. Two can play at that game.

He tilted his head at her and inhaled a deep breath through puckered lips.

“Oh come on,” he dared, “certainly you’ve had clientele with more niche sexual eccentricities.”

A shadow fell over her face for the briefest of moments. It would have gone unnoticed by a casual observer, but both of them knew he was not that type of man. He allowed her to continue her game, amusement filling the lines on his lips.

“What…what are you talking about?” She uttered, her voice trembling, a hint of false indignation floating from her.

“Oh let’s not play coy,” he tutted with disappointment, “not when I’m more than ready and willing for you to take me on as a new client.”

She stiffened at the words, following the movement of his dark gloves as he sat cross legged over next to her. He observed as she pulled her feet closer to her as she leaned forward, still intrigued with his offering.

“And what if my—my books—are closed?” She inquired.

His laugh rose up to the tray ceiling of her apartment, then rested his hand under his chin. The black leather of his glove showed such a stark difference against his skin as she wondered what his hands looked like, what his hands felt like.

“And yet,” he sighed, caressing her ankle and up her calf, “you still made a concerted effort to bring me to your place.”

She leaned forward as she opened her legs a little wider for him, “Well then: my services, my rules.”

“Hm, but you provide the full girlfriend experience, correct?” he sighed as he continued to run his hands up her silky legs until they settled atop the soft, translucent fabric that covered her dewy center.

He lowered his knees to the floor, pulling her abruptly to the edge of the bed. Opening her legs wide, his mustache tickled her through the soft mesh-like fabric of her panties, licking a long, broad stripe along her outer lips.

The soft whine floated from her lips like a song composed just for him in that moment. So beautiful. He licked another stripe just to hear it again.

“Is that enough to seal this business arrangement?”

Through a squirm and wanton, breathy moan, she bucked her hips back towards his pouty lips, “Yes!”

“Yes, what?” he uttered, the heat of his breath fluttered against her center.

She paused and settled her eyes to his face, admiring the broadness of his body and the confidence in his posture.

“Yes, sir,” she conceited, adding a tinge of submission to her voice.

“Good girl,” he hummed as he took a pair of ankle and wrist restraints from the attaché case and wrapped them around her appendages. With additional diligence, he fastened them to the antique gold bed frame.

The warmest emanating from her body, lit every nerve ending in his body as each breath she let out became heavier and heavier. She pulled at her wrists and ankles, her body begging for him to use her.

“What’s our safe word?”

“What about---vanilla?” he offered.

“Mmm, that’s an amusing use of the word,” she purred, curling her lips up at their corners.

He wore a smug smile as he searched through his attaché case and returned with a pair of scissors and a mini crop which he set to the right of her thigh. She trembled as he brought the shiny scissors to the fabric that covered her mound. He waited a moment, feeling her breath quicken with panic. As an act of mercy, he pulled the fabric to the side to reveal her center where he took in another taste of her. She gasped and let out a loud exhale as he cut away the fabric with precise snips along the seams. He pushed them away leaving her pussy cool and bare for him.

Following a similar pattern of painstaking care and attention, he cut along where the straps of her brassiere met the lace cups that held her breasts. With a quick touch and gentle fold of the fabric, her tits were free. He began kneading them with his smooth leather clad hands. The hungry growl from his mouth reached her ears before he brought his lips to her breasts, taking her sensitive nub into his mouth, swirling it with tongue.

“Ah, fuck,” she gasped, arching her back towards his mouth in desperation.

He locked her response into his brain with a cock of his eyebrow. His large hands explored the length of her torso. And with a broad stroke of his tongue, he drew a long, slow path down her body. He stopped just before reaching her mound to grab the crop that lay next to her. He caressed it up the center of her body, circling each breast tormenting her with each slow, deliberate move. She arched her back towards him again, pulling on her restraints to reach him. He brought the crop back to his hand, sliding the handle with one supple leather glove, before slapping at her nipples with one quick snap of the handle.

“Oh fuck!” She cried out from the stinging pain which slowly eased into throbs of pleasure.

She drew in her breaths rapidly, wincing and writhing through every subsequent crack of the crop on her tits. He wriggled his jaw and felt his cock twitch each time she cried and moaned for him. He admired the red tint that painted her skin and stroked down the length of her body until he was teasing her pussy with gentle flicks and strokes of his crop. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he applied more pressure to each stroke. The air of her bedroom filled with a litany of her moans punctuated by sharp gasps and yelps that paired with each slap he made to her pussy.

“Vanilla!” she cried out after one particularly sharp crack of his crop. “Please, vanilla! I can’t!”

Tears began to slip from the corners of her eyes as she fought to regain her composure. A look of sympathy enveloped his face as he looked on how pitifully she lay for him, desperate for a softer touch. With roguish confidence, he slowly began to rid himself of the confines of his white dress shirt. A deep sigh of relief washed over her as she was left entranced by the vision of his bare chest and broad shoulders. Each muscle moved over the other as he carefully folded his shirt and placed it on top of his coat before he returned to her.

His gloved hands embraced the outside of her thighs as he drew his face closer to her center, admiring how it glistened for him. He breathed in her intoxicating scent before he buried his face in her pussy with slow, even, and meditative breaths. Through his touch in union and with her movements, he felt her breath match his. He let his heat soothe her where he had left his mark. And with one slow, broad stroke of his tongue against her sensitive center, she shuddered.

“Oh my god” she cried, her hips bucking up to his mouth as the metal of the bed rattled.

“Fuck, are you this responsive with your other clients?” he uttered, keeping his lips close to her pussy but not touching it.

She whined, wiggling in his hands, only making him push down harder on her thighs.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he stated, the heat of his breath warming her folds again. “How many of them make you feel this good?”

The way she continued to writhe and fight against the squeeze of his leathered covered grip revealed her desperate attempt to not to give him the satisfaction. To spark encouragement within her, he gifted her one longer, slower, and deeper stroke of his tongue. It evoked a moan that leapt from the depths of her throat that was determined to remain uncontained.

“None of them!” she admitted, her skin rosy with the glow of sex and embarrassment.

His skin warmed when he saw how the flush of her embarrassment spread from her face to the length of her body like a wave, brushing every inch of her in the prettiest shade of pink. His cock stretched the fabric of his trousers trying to reach for her. He expected a little more restraint from himself, but couldn’t resist pressing his tongue through her folds again to savor the taste of her. He pushed in deeper until his nose pressed against her mound licking up and down, sending her moans louder and louder towards the ceiling. He sucked on her folds that were wet with his saliva and her sex. He licked precise circles on her clit until he found himself interchanging his tight circles with a few zealous sucks of her sensitive knot. Close to her highest point of pleasure, she let out a high-pitched yelp when he suddenly let go.

“No!” she pleaded, pulling at her restraints. “Please don’t stop!”

The way she begged drew a deep, carnal laughter from his chest. Feeling generous, he satisfied the hunger of her tortured anticipation by sucking on her clit one more time insistent on driving her to a place of pleasure she’d never known before. The bed frame shook as she moaned deep from her throat, pulling helplessly at the bindings that held her.

“Oh god, I’m not—this isn’t like me!” She insisted, as the blush of her skin somehow became brighter as she used all her might to regain her composure. “What’s happening to me?”

He pushed himself up from the bed, the muscles of his shoulders flexing as he did. The front of his pants were left wrinkled and stretched with his cock fighting to come out. The high thread count bed sheets were left crumpled where he had rested in reverence of her pussy.

“Such a sweet, sweet girl,” he teased as she shifted her hips on the sheets.

Like an animal stalking its prey, he walked the perimeter of the bed. Mercifully, he removed the restraints from the metal bed frame, carefully unlatching each one from her wrists and her ankles.

Immediately, she knocked her knees together and brought one hand to her chest while the other rested dramatically at her forehead. She caressed her nipples, slowly sliding them down to her wet center as she watched him like under some kind of enchantment.

He looked down upon her naked form, brimming with arrogance. The best way he knew to respond was to remove his belt in an agonizingly slow manner. He let its polished brown leather glide through the pliant, black leather of his gloved hands. The familiar sound of his slacks and boxer briefs falling to the floor filled the otherwise quiet room. He could practically hear her pant in indulgent anticipation as he slid a condom over his thick, pulsing cock.

He slinked over the sheets towards her, using the muscles of his bare muscular thighs to push her legs open for him. He watched as her eyes opened wide for him in trepidation and excitement as she felt the warmth of the leather gloves play at her folds. With each ministration of his fingers he applied more pressure, sending her brain and body into a quiet frenzy. The flexible warmth of his leather clad fingers along her outer folds were simultaneously firm and cushioned. He traversed the length of her body as he crawled on top of her, his length needy and throbbing. He looked at her with his large, brown eyes shone like a bright beacon holding her in.

“What’s with the glove fetish?”

Ah. There it was. She finally asked.

Their chests heaved in unison as she pushed her body up to meet his. Slowly, he ran his hands up to her arms pressing her arms above her on the bed.

“Heightens the anticipation,” he replied as he brought his hands back down to her chest. “Stay still, doll.”

She listened like an obedient pet as he slowly brought his hands just below her jaw. A brief glint of fear appeared in her eyes.

“Shh, sweet girl,” he said as he wrapped them tighter around her neck. “You can trust me.”

He squeezed tighter, his erection growing with each shade of red with her face turned. She gasped, gripping at his arms pleading and beginning to fight underneath him.

“V…Va…ni…va!” she whimpered.

I love it when they fight.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline and desire flow through him, he let go of her neck leaving her shaking with a few errant coughs. Taking his teeth to a finger of his left glove he set his hand free, not even giving her a moment to compose herself before his fingers pushed deep into her weeping center.

“Oh god, oh my god!” She wailed, shaking as he fucked her with his fingers coating them with her sex until she was panting and sobbing in ecstasy. “Fuuuuck!”

A wicked smile crept across his lips, curling up the left side of his face.

“I told you,” he said with a voice so deep, powerful, and persuasive that her entire body trembled from the sound and the force of her orgasm. “There’s nothing that feels quite like it.”

He drew circles over the outer lips of her pussy, gathering evidence of her sex on the fingertips of his remaining glove. An exquisite heat filled the path he drew with his fingers from her center to her mouth, tracing the border of her lips.

“Pull the glove off,” he demanded.

Eager to obey, she brought her hands to his wrist beginning to remove the black leather from his hands.

“Ah, tsk, no! No hands.” He scolded her in voice so disapproving she wanted nothing more than to please him. “Use your mouth.”

Flushed and yearning for him, she obeyed, using her teeth to pull each finger until she held the discarded leather in her mouth. He shook his head in disbelief, impressed by the show she was putting on for him. He leaned his body into hers licking up her neck until their mouths were locked in a sensual kiss.

“Turn over,” he moaned into her ear.

She did as she was told once again. Her chest and stretched out arms clung to the cool sheets as he traced his hands over the length of her torso and squeezed her ass. It was round and positioned so perfectly. With a loud, firm smack of his hand he spanked her, conjuring a luxurious moan from her pretty lips.

The throbbing anticipation was only satisfied when he lined the tip of his thick cock and pushed through her folds, letting out a guttural moan as he gripped her hips, feeling how tight and swollen she was for him. Her hips rocked with the force of his rhythmic thrusts in and out, in and out. The grip her pussy had on his thick cock became impossibly tighter as they continued in worship of each other's bodies.

“Oh, ahh god,” she cried into the sheets, her body shifting and quaking with each movement. “So—ah—so fucking—good.”

The color of her knuckles were white from how hard she clutched her sheets as he pumped his hips against hers like he was trying to break through an invisible barrier. The heat built over and over across her chest. Her pussy vibrated and shuddered so close to losing all control as his balls slapped against her body.

“Fucking tight!!” He gritted his teeth as his thrusts became more frantic. “Oh fuck, doll!”

The bed shook with her body as he pounded into her with the last of his strength. They cried out together filling the air of her perfectly pretty room with the dirtiest deeds, the dirtiest words, but with the purest form of pleasure. They collapsed onto the bed, leaving the mattress slightly askew: an immediate casualty of their act. Their bodies were a heap of sweat and rapid breaths as they tried to recover. He offered her another wicked smile before graciously kissing her with his soft, pillowy pout.

I will be merciful today.

************************

“AND CUT SCENE!”

Lights brightened and a few quiet feet shuffled around as the director stared at the back of the camera.

“You guys, that was incredible!!!” The director said with a hushed sense of amazement permeating his voice.

He waved towards a quiet woman with wide set brown eyes, and alarmingly straight hair. She stood like an awkward statue in the corner of the room holding a pile of blankets. The woman, an intimacy coordinator, shuffled her way towards the actors as they sat up, still recovering from their very unsimulated moment of on screen passion.

“You ok?” The mustached man asked his beautiful costar, touching her reassuringly on her elbow and up to her shoulder. “It wasn’t too much?”

“Hmm,” she smiled, gently rubbing his large hand with hers. “I think you know I’m more than OK, Dieter.”

Dieter grabbed a blanket that was on top of the pile being held by the dwarf-like intimacy coordinator, wrapping it securely around his scene partner. She looked up at him, green eyes shining. He held her gaze on her, his dimples prominent as he smiled. His eyes twinkled as he removed the condom and absent-mindedly discarded it in a trash can the intimacy coordinator overzealously presented to him.

“Maybe we can do this again without that,” she suggested as she stood close, her eyebrows raised and eyes shifting toward the direction of the discarded protection. “And without the cameras and extra eyes.”

A grin danced across his lips as he looked at her, holding his blanket close to him. He parted from her with a lingering embrace and with the magical feel like they were the only two in the room.

“Hi Mr. Bravo,” the intimacy coordinator approached them, “I’m just making sure that everything is ok…that you felt, um..safe and comfortable.”

Dieter wrinkled his brow incredulously and fought hard against revealing a snarl on his lips “Um fuck yeah! More than fine.”

He pressed his lips together, walking off quickly towards a bathroom that served as a makeshift dressing room. The intimacy coordinator was left staring back at him, her eyes glued to his form like lasers set to a target.

****************************

Dieter stood at the train platform, rubbing his tired eyes after a long day on set as he waited for the next train. Too tired to be pretentious about fans who recognized him, he posed for photos contorting his face into goofy smiles. Too tired to push off a fan who hugged him a little too long. Too tired to notice the ominous specter of a girl with wide-set brown eyes and alarmingly straight hair as she stood watching him under the shadows cast by a lamplight wringing a pair of black leather gloves in her spindly hands.

#juice collective #awhome #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #dave york #joel miller #frankie catfish morales #dieter bravo #din djarin #silva strange way of life #oberyn martell #max phillips #maxwell lord #comandante veracruz #Javier peña #javi gutierrez

[leavingautumn13]

maxieposting again. it's possible the canon divergence in this emerald fic i'm working on has somewhat escaped my control. i'm sure nothing will come of it.

[i have commissions open now]

#magma leader maxie #pokemon emerald #pokemon rse #pokemon oras #groudon #*opens word doc* good lord what's going on in here #it's fine don't worry about it #autumn.art #okay back to the fanfiction mines with me #i'm almost done with my oneshot #and with the next chapter of wbotb so fallout fans rejoice #i have not forgotten you #there are just worms in my brain #and this dude #''awful little freak'' he is 6'4'' #well. rse max is

[idolatrybarbie]

main masterlist | pmamc masterlist

summary: For PMAMC '24. Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.

rating & word count: explicit - 18+ only, minors & blank blogs get blocked! | 4.9k

content tags: takes place in the 80s, fem!OC with no physical descriptions, gambling (pls don't), alcohol and references to it, descriptions of fake gore and blood, reader smokes, references to domestic violence and abuse, smut - pegging, anal fingering, come eating, praise.

tags & notes: @amanitacowboy | I had to watch several videos on how blackjack works for this. Still don't get it.

The noise of the room bubbles up around him, the sound of slots and smell of money threatening to slosh over like a spilled drink. The colourful trill of fruit machines announcing another loser can’t penetrate Max’s focus like it was designed to. His eyes are glued to the velvet green table, watching the vested woman with a crooked smile deal out another round of cards.

Blackjack has the best odds of winning in any casino game. All you have to do is beat the dealer. Still, the notion doesn’t comfort Maxwell Lord. He likes to be certain. He likes to win.

The dealer lays out a new hand with deft fingers. A three and a queen; six and an ace; the Queen and Jack of Spades; another ace and another three. Cancel, cancel, two high cards, another cancel. He adjusts the count in his head. Minus two.

With the hand played, the woman at the end of the table with wire-framed glasses surrenders. Half of her bet returns to the pot, the other half scooped up by the dealer. The two other men at the table double down. Max bets only a few chips, swiping a hand through the front strands of his sandy brown hair.

The cards sit at minus two against the players, in favour of the dealer. As she doles out a new crop of cards, he keeps counting. A five; a ten; the Queen of Clubs; a four. The round ends at minus three.

He’s keeping track, visualizing the numbers bright and shiny at the forefront of his mind. Max counts the hits and stands as the new deck is laid out, the running count increasing to twelve over the next couple games. He bets five hundred dollars in the next game, immediately receiving an ace and the King of Spades. At this three-to-two table, he’s just won 750 dollars.

The dealer is asking if he wants to continue playing, carrying his winnings over into the next round. Max’s focus has left the table and the small mountain of chips he can call his own. His eyes are drawn to the stage at the back of the long casino hall, smoke polluting the air around the draped black curtains before they pull away.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a proud voice booms over the sound system. “Please put your hands together for…the amazing Killian Loftus!”

A platform parts within the floor of the stage, a man slowly rising from beneath on a silver plate of metal. He sports a finely pressed suit, the tails swaying as he walks a few steps away from his spot, accepting the applause he’s given. As he’s smiling at the crowd gathered near the stage, a woman struts across the shiny floor to stand next to him.

Her tights are sheer black, covering the smooth landscape of her legs and thighs up to her crotch. From there, they disappear under a silky black bunny suit that cuts high at her hips, a fanciful bow tie collar around her neck. In place of rabbit ears sits a small top hat. She waves at the audience, waggling each finger. As this woman scans over the sectioned sea of people, Maxwell swears they make eye contact from across the room.

The dealer at the blackjack table asks him if he’d like to rejoin once more. He glances back only for a moment, shaking his head with a brisk no in her direction. Max haphazardly shuffles his chips into his clear plastic rack, making sure to count every one. When he’s organized himself, he leaves the cushioned leather seat at the gambling table to join the crowd close to the stage. A seat in the back suits him just fine, the parting of heads in front of him leaving a perfect view to the magician and his beautiful assistant.

The great Killian Loftus’ first bout of magic involves slight of hand tricks performed on a murky glass orb. He shuffles it in his palm as onlookers ooh and ahh. When he seemingly extracts another, smaller glass ball from the original one and regards the audience with a look of feigned surprise, Max can’t help himself as he rolls his eyes. Observing the stage, he can see that Loftus’ assistant feels a bit of the same. She sits perched on a black stool staring at her fingernails, forgotten in the act.

It’s another ten minutes of card tricks and optical illusions before Killian announces, “And now…for my greatest trick! I will make my dazzling Bunny here disappear.”

Bunny. Can’t be her real name, but Max likes the sound of it for now. He imagines, for a brief moment, gritting out that name as she bounces on his cock. The thought has him stiffening in his slacks already.

Bunny stands from her stool, walking behind the shadowy black curtain. When she reappears, she’s wheeling a long purple coffin onto the stage. On top of the box is a saw. Bunny hands it to Loftus, who holds it up for the audience to see. At first, Max can’t tell if it’s real or fake. When Killian drags his pointer finger along one of its rigid teeth, he winces, finger coming away bloody. Definitely real.

He sucks at his finger, the blood disappearing as Bunny gets into the gaudy casket. She looks at the people in the crowd once more, the stage lights highlighting a kilowatt smile. Laying back in the box, Bunny disappears as Loftus secures a sparkling lid over top of her. Max knows that by now, his assistant will have slipped through the fake bottom of the box, crouched at the bottom of the curtained cart that the coffin traveled in on.

Loftus asks, “Now, you’re in there for certain Bunny?”

The audience can only hear muffled speech from inside the box.

“How ‘bout you just knock for us, sweetheart?” the magician asks. The pure condescension in his tone makes Max’s blood boil in the slightest. Even if it’s an act, where does a guy like that get off on acting so…lordly.

It’s not his job to save her, Max knows this. He is simply here to watch. And watch he does.

A knock is heard from inside the box, confirming to the audience that Bunny is still with us. That’s when Killian takes the saw, setting it right in the middle of the coffin. He begins to cut into the wood, sweat beading at his retreating hairline between the exertion and the stage lights.

“Folks, you are about to watch me tear this sweet girl apart,” he says. Max doesn’t miss the innuendo, huffing under his breath. “And then! I will put her right back together.”

The saw moves further and further through the coffin, eventually reaching whereabouts Bunny’s body would lay. As Loftus continues to saw, a tearing sound accompanies the grating noise of splitting wood. Killian’s brow pinches in confusion, his hand slowing but not stopping. As he cuts deeper, red liquid trickles down the front side of the cedar box. That trickle grows to a stream, crimson pouring from the coffin as the rip of something softer grows louder.

Members of the crowd begin to stand, cries and shouts for Loftus to stop erupting from their seats.

“If you’ll all just give me a moment here…” he says with a grunt. Finally, he cuts through the last inch of the coffin. When he lays the saw down on the floor of the stage, it smeared in what can only be blood. It slides out of the box easily, pooling by the magician’s spiffy dress shoes. “Everyone calm down,” Killian says. “There’s nothing to worry about. See?”

As he asks the question, he pulls apart the two halves of the coffin. Inside, what looks to be the corpse of Bunny has been split into two parts. Her guts are spilled between the two halves like webbing, slopping onto the floor as Killian Loftus pulls her large intestine taut. A woman in the crowd screams, the rest of them tittering nervously. A man in the front row hurls onto the wine-stained carpet. Max’s own stomach roils at the sight. He covers his mouth and looks away.

That’s when he spots her. The assistant—Bunny, or whatever her real name is. Distinctly not sawed in half, waltzing away in her towering heels; she slips between poker tables, dodging players left and right. Wherever she’s going, she is in a hurry. Max can’t help himself, standing to follow. He gets one last look at the stage. Two security guards have a hold on each of Loftus’ arms, holding him still as a third whips out metal cuffs from his utility belt. For all they know, he’s just committed live murder.

The air outside the casino is cool against Maxwell’s skin. He catches his breath, taking in lungfuls at a time as he glances around the sidewalk bathed in neon lights. The hustle and bustle of foot traffic nudges him back closer to the doors, chips still safe against his ribs. The smell of tobacco invades his nose. Max looks to his left, and there she is. Still in her bunny suit, the mysterious woman pulls a cigarette from her lips to look at him. She flashes him her smile again, blindingly beautiful.

“Out here by yourself, handsome?” she asks, taking another drag.

“I was looking for you,” Max admits.

“Weren’t too amused by my little stunt, huh?”

“I thought it was brilliant.”

“Brilliant?” the woman asks, eyebrows raising with the word. She seems to take a moment to mull that over—mull him over, before she says, “Well thanks.”

“Of course,” Max returns.

Then she says, “You know, you’re pretty brilliant yourself. I saw you at the blackjack table.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” he smiles.

“Your lips twitch every time the there’s a cancel. A draw,” the magician’s assistant says. “It’s your tell.”

Maxwell didn’t think he had one. He’s surprised it’s taken this long for anyone to notice. If she has, that means she’s been watching him a lot longer than their shared look at the start of the show.

“And what’s yours?” he asks, taking a bold step closer. By now, the cigarette has burned down to the filter. Bunny lets it fall to the cement, crushing it under the toe box of her heel.

“What if I said I don’t have one?” she asks, voice low and sultry. She smells like cigarettes and spearmint.

“Everyone has a tell,” Maxwell says.

Her lips are so close to his now. He can see the microscopic specks of glitter in her gloss as she speaks, barely a whisper.

“I guess you’ll just have to find mine.”

Right when Max moves in for a kiss, she pulls away.

“But first,” Bunny says. “I need a favour.”

“Anything,” he says instantly. A dog on a leash.

She pulls a scrap of paper from her bra, taking a hold of Max’s hand and folding it into his palm. He relishes in its warmth, cock stirring once again as he thinks about what this paper has touched. He wants to hold her, caress every part of her beautiful body.

“You need to get into this room. It’s reserved for Loftus. Under the bed, there’s a briefcase. Bring it to me.”

“Where can I find you?” he asks.

She simply says, “You’ll find me, baby.”

The magician’s assistant walks away with a sway in her hips. Max is mesmerized by her ass in that outfit, watching ‘til she disappears around the corner. He almost goes after her, stopping himself. He schools his desperation into determination. Retrieve a briefcase? Max can surely manage that. He looks at the address scribbled down on the paper. Just south of here, a little ways up Las Vegas Boulevard.

First, he returns to the casino to cash out his chips. 750 dollars richer, he exits the building once again to join the people on the street. Walking down the long strip, he keeps an eye out for the place he’s looking for. The hotels and casinos tower over him and everyone else, overwhelming in their grand stature. Lights of all colours bathe different sections of his vision; everything highlighted, all of it begging for his attention and the opening of his wallet.

Max reaches the address on the piece of paper, staring up at the MGM Grand. Across the street from replica Lady Liberty, this has to be the largest building in mass size that he’s ever seen. The glass structure seems to glow, alternating black and wizard green stripes lining its entirety. He doesn’t take too long to gawk, ducking his head and moving toward the entrance. 

Through the abstract front doors, marble flooring slides beneath his feet. The lobby is dotted with hundreds of pot lights. In the middle of everything is a branded flower garden. From this distance, Max can’t tell if the plants are real or fake. All he can focus on is the life-sized golden lion statue sitting among them on a pedestal. A spotlight filters down on the creature from the divoted, sparkling ceiling.

It is purely overwhelming. All of it makes his eyes hurt. Maxwell simultaneously wants it all, and wishes everything would disappear.

The slip of paper has details for the penthouse on the thirtieth floor. Maxwell beelines for the elevator, getting on alone. The doors creep closed in front of him as he scans over the buttons panel. Twenty-nine glowing circles wait for him. Number thirty has a hole next to it, the light behind it dead. Running a thumb over it, he can tell that it’s fit for a key. The elevator doesn’t move, the doors opening again moments later. Max walks back into the lobby, eyes darting around as he forms a plan.

He’s a smart man. Quick-thinking; had to be growing up, having only mere moments to make decisions before his father burst into one of his unpredictable rages. His heart would pound, lungs floating without air in his chest as he got to work with his rational brain. The part of him that pointed out the best hiding spots under the bed or in his mom’s closet, or when was a good time to ditch the house for a few hours entirely.

That same part of his mind starts working again now, taking in his surroundings instead of fighting them, positing the best solution. Max takes a deep breath, reorganizing himself. He can do this. He starts walking to the lobby desk, leaning into a bit of Mick Jagger swagger. When he reaches the counter, he spreads his hands over the edge of it, the ring on his finger catching the light.

“Sweetheart,” Max begins, imitating Killian Loftus’ grating persona. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my key.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Can I have your name and room number?” the woman behind the desk asks. Her hair is tightly crimped, blonde ends singed with heat damage. Max gives her a smirk, informing her of the booking under Loftus’ name for the uppermost suite.

“Alright sir,” she says, looking through pages in a guest book. “I’ll just need to see some identification and we will be right on our way.”

Shit. These goddamn hotels are moving towards hokey technology, getting rid of guestbooks and good old metal keys. Maxwell weathered the thin skin of his lip, pivoting his strategy. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a few bills from his gambling winnings.

“How much to overlook that little requirement?” Max asks.

“Four hundred dollars,” the woman says immediately.

Max blinks at her, turning away for only a moment. All of this for one woman? One woman whom he barely knows, who’s really promised him nothing. But her beautiful face, that tantalizing smile… Fuck.

He turns back to the hotel attendant, skimming through the crisp cotton bills with his thumb to count out four hundred dollars. Max hands it to her over the counter. She discreetly tucks it into the breast pocket of her blazer, padded shoulders straightening up with pride. The attendant then hands Max a key, the metal ring dangling off her finger. He takes it from her, walking away as he unruffles his feathers.

Max returns to the elevator. The doors are about to close when a pale hand jams itself between them. They slip open again, a blonde couple glommed onto each other at the mouth joining him. Maxwell moves over in the compartment, giving them as much space as possible. The ride up feels impossibly long, the sounds of their lips pressing together making it entirely agonizing. They finally get off at the twenty-fifth floor, tumbling down the left side of the hallway to their room.

When he puts the key into the hole next to the thirtieth floor, the button lights up for him. Max presses it, loosening his tie a little as he ascends to the penthouse. The doors open with a slight ding! Setting foot into the luxury suite, he takes his time to look around. The latest and greatest model appliances deck out the kitchenette, the couch as plush as chinchilla fur. He takes his shoes and socks off, digging his toes into the soft shag carpet. Max could get used to this.

He remembers what he truly came here for like a jolt of electricity, scrambling to slide his Farragamo loafers back on, socks in hand. The briefcase. Right. Under the bed, she’d said.

Max quits milling about, looking for the bedroom among so many parlors and rooms. He finally finds it at the very back of the penthouse. He only has a moment to graze a palm over the fine linen sheets before he drops to his knees. Underneath the bed frame lies exactly what he’s looking for: the aforementioned briefcase.

Sliding it out from under the bed, Max stays kneeling on the carpet as he stares at it. He could open it, take a peek inside. Just to look, he tells himself. Anything could be in there. Money, diamonds, jewels…the thought gets him hard again. So does the promise of seeing her. He could give in to greed…or give in to her.

Really, it’s an easy choice to make.

You wait for the mystery man alone at the casino’s bar. If he has any sense, he’ll find you here. Or, you figure, he could take off with the briefcase. He’s probably opened it by now, already seen its tempting contents. You’d say that you are pissed, but you can’t really blame him.

It’s been almost an hour; a lot longer than you’d expect for a simple smash and grab. There wasn’t even the instruction to smash. No need for breaking added to this entering. No, the beautiful card counter with the light brown hair is long gone. Go figure.

“Bartender,” you signal him over, two fingers in the air. When the man shuffles to you with a towel over his shoulder, you say, “I’ll take another martini. Extra dirty this time.”

“You know, they say that dogs look like their owners,” you hear someone speak behind you. Turning slightly, you see the man from earlier—with the luscious locks and fleeting eyes, this time carrying a briefcase. The briefcase. He’s come back to you after all.

“So?” you ask. “Are you calling me a dog?”

“No, no, no,” he rushes out, immediately sitting down beside you. You like that. He’s quick to worry, easy to rile up. He seems to want you happy; to keep you pleased. “I was going to ask if the lady is like her drink.” He waits until the bartender sets the skinny glass in front of you. “Extra dirty.”

“Well, you’ve brought me what I asked for,” you say. “So that all depends on what you want…” You’re only now realizing that you don’t know this man’s name.

“Maxwell,” he offers you a hand. “Maxwell Lord.” You shake it carefully. His palms are a little sweaty. He sets the briefcase down on the bar with his other hand, eyes never leaving you.

“That’s a nice name. Maxwell Lord,” you say, testing it out on your tongue. He smiles as you say it.

“I assume your true name isn’t Bunny,” he says.

“You’ll be lucky enough to find out.” You take a sip of your drink, watching him watch you. “Y’know, I thought that you would stiff me.”

“You? Never,” Maxwell says. “I know it would haunt me for all of my days.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re too beautiful.”

That’s it. You need to see this man naked as soon as possible.

“You’re sweet,” you coo. Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you plop a few bills down on the sticky bar to cover your tab. Taking the briefcase by the handle, you offer him your other hand. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Maxwell nods.

You drag him through the casino, this time to a separate lobby attaching two buildings. Of course there’s a casino, bar, and hotel. One stop shopping for the tax break-wealthy drunkard with too much cash to blow. “Trickle down” your ass.

Your room on the fifth floor isn’t nearly as fancy as Killian’s at the Grand, but it’s cozy with a nice bed. That’s all the two of you need. Max doesn’t even try to take control—another thing you like. He’s a puppet and you’ve gathered his strings, pushing him back so he falls to the springy mattress.

“Okay, honey,” you say, kicking your heels off. You climb into his lap on the bed, settling over a distinct bulge in his pants. “You’re going to tell me what you want. I’ll make sure you feel real good. Okay?”

“Mhm,” Max nods. Your lips slide along his neck, leaving lipstick marks in your wake. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers.

You pause, drawing yourself back to look in his eyes. He’s dead serious, face lax as he gazes upon you like you’re holding up the world. “You want me to fuck you?” you repeat.

“Please.” The word comes out all breathy, almost a whine drawn from Maxwell’s throat. How can you refuse him?

“Alright, baby.”

You pinch his cheek teasingly, getting off of him in search of your luggage. In the meantime, you tell him to strip. Behind you, Max starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding his baby blue suit jacket. You listen to him get undressed as you pull your suitcase up from underneath the hotel bed.

Unzipping the bag, you dig past your satiny outfits to the hidden compartment beneath your underwear. Finding what you need, you place the toy, harness, and small bottle of lubricant on the bed’s comforter. You can hear Maxwell pause as he shimmies out of his pants. When you see him again, his eyes are transfixed on the spread you have laid out.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask.

He returns to shedding his pants, then his calf-high cotton socks.

When he says, “Nothing. Nothing at all,” you cock your head, blinking at him.

“You can tell me,” you say, getting closer. Your hands brush over his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Looks like a lot,” he says, eyeing the toy again.

“You can take it,” you say. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

He’s right; it is a lot. Eight solid inches of bendy silicone, all for him. You direct him onto the bed again, laying with his spine against the mattress. Max watches as you attach the thick toy to the leather harness with a metal O-ring. Then, you slip it on like a pair of panties, adjusting the buckles at your sides. Once you settle over him, you take his cock in your hand. Slow beginning strokes have Maxwell sighing against you as you kiss him.

“You were so good, Maxwell. Did a great  job,” you say, sitting up.

“Y-you think so?” he asks, voice uneven.

“I know so.”

Spit runs past your lips down to where you hold him. It slides over the swollen tip of his length, down between the skin of your fingers. You ease him into slightly faster strokes, watching the way his eyes flutter with every movement. You wish you’d packed a camera for this outing to capture it permanently.

When you pull your hand away, Maxwell groans. Laid flat on the bed, you get a hold on one of his thighs, lifting it to his chest.

“Hand me that bottle, baby.”

Fumbling with the linens for a moment, Max gets a grip on the lube and hands it to you. The cap opens easily, a quick snap that brings Maxwell’s focus to your still-wet hand. He watches as a dollop of the clear gel falls to the middle of your palm. You fold your hand, spreading lubricant across the pads of your middle and pointer fingers.

You lean down towards him, tongue flat as you lick across his lips. Max moves his arms around you, hugging your body close to capture you in a sweet kiss. Tongue moving against yours, you guide your hand to his bottom half.

“You ready, honey?” you ask him.

He nods, kissing you again. You meet his tight rim with light touches, feeling Maxwell contract at the contact. As you ease a finger in slowly, he breaks away from your lips. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, he practically purrs against your skin. Pushing deeper, his breath catches.

“That’s it, Maxwell. Feels good, doesn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes, it’s—oh god.”

“My clever boy… So good at doing what I tell you to, huh?”

“I want you to be—be happy. Content. So beautiful, I can’t…” Max rambles on.

You shush him gently, stroking the side of his face with your free hand. “Don’t worry honey. I know.”

Adding a second finger earns you a deep moan from the man beneath you. He’s being pulled in all directions, pleasure tearing him apart. His broad shoulders relax further into the bed, golden skin glowing with natural light. He is a truly alluring man. That’s why he caught your eye in the first place: someone so radiant amid the dim atmosphere of a Vegas casino. 

Killian was a terrible business partner, cutting you only thirty percent of the money from any given con job you worked together. He was another seedy character in a town chock full of them. Eyeing Maxwell at that blackjack table, you saw an opportunity for something new. Someone new. Spiffy and sparkling, your very own Ken doll fresh from the packaging.

“You think you’re ready, gorgeous?” you ask, tone sweet as sugar.

“Always ready,” Maxwell answers.

His chest heaves with each pull of air into his lungs, anticipation keeping you both on edge. He watches you slather the dildo in a thick coating of lube, sliding it against Max’s balls. Then you notch the toy at the crux of his ass, head pressed against his hole. Inching slowly forward, you can’t choose between focusing on his pretty face or his ass swallowing the length of you.

“How does that feel?”

“Fantastic,” Maxwell sighs.

He takes half at first, speared open on the dildo as he measures his breathing. Max is flushed from his forehead to his cock, perspiration littering his body as precum drips from his swollen tip. You take him in hand again, stroking at soft skin in tandem with your thrusts. Small, stuttering gasps and groans fill the air as Maxwell holds you close, feeling almost every inch.

“You like my cock, honey?” you ask. “You’re so special. So, so special. A sweet boy that that takes my cock all nice…takes what I give him.”

You slow your movements to more languid pulses, barely leaving him as you rock forward.

“Fuck,” Max moans. “Please.”

“Oh, he likes that, huh?” You watch as Max’s hole swallows the rest of your lubed cock easily, hips flush with the backs of his thighs. “Greedy little boy. All eager to get fucked by me. I think you’d do anything for it.”

“Anything,” he agrees.

“Maybe next time, I’ll get you to beg.” Max moans again, holding your hips to press you deeper. “You want to kneel for me, honey? Get down on your knees all pretty for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Maxwell whispers in a chant.

“Think my pretty boy could get off just like that? On his knees, rubbing against the edge of my heel?”

“Please,” he begs you.

Your lips quirk into a smile as you watch him writhe beneath you. One word turns to a string of pleading, though you aren’t quite sure that Maxwell knows what he’s asking for. You speed up your thrusts and your hand. His eyes slip closed as he focuses on every sensation you’re giving him, hedging closer to that high just out of reach.

Leaning down over him, you catch him in a messy kiss. “Come on, baby. You can do it. Come for me.”

Maxwell heeds your words, tensing before his whole body relaxes at once. He paints the insides of his thighs and your belly with a groan, twitching with each aftershock. Dragging a finger through the mess on your skin, you collect some of his spend and push it past his lips, feeding it to him. Max suckles at your finger, tasting himself. He smiles when you take your hand back, dragging at his bottom lip.

You pull out of him slowly, discarding the harness and strap to lay down with him. Maxwell turns to face you, nose pressed to your collarbone. Idly petting his hair has him kissing your skin. Basking in the moment, you let something like bliss wash over you.

“So what do you say?” you ask eventually. “Partners?”

“Partners,” Maxwell agrees.

And that’s that.

#maxwell lord #ww84 #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #max lord x reader #wonder woman 1984 #pmamc 2024 #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #fic: stiff #except for queue

[sirowsky]

Max's Monster

Day 10, gives us another first! I mean, I couldn't do an entire challenge without adding some fantasy to the mix, and Max Lord seemed like a good fit.

This is a mostly silly little story taking place in the aftermath of WW84, when Max is trying to get back on his feet. He encounters a creature that won't leave him alone, which turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Warnings include cursing, and kind of monsterfucking I guess, but not explicit. No reader insert.

Word Count: 3280 Author’s Masterlist Birthday Stories

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

   Okay, so he wasn’t the best man to ever have lived, but this time it really wasn’t his fault.    How was he supposed to foresee that the thing would land in his lap, of all damn places? It wasn’t like he’d gone looking for it, it had literally fallen out of the sky…

   Sitting in his home office, he stared at the strange little creature, now asleep on his desk, curled into a tight ball that didn’t really seem big enough to accommodate all its limbs.    He hadn’t actively carried it to his car, or into the house, it had just decided to tag along, no matter how vigorously he’d tried to shoo it away. And if there was one thing he didn’t need, it was more supernatural entities encroaching on his life.    Truth be told… the thing gave him the creeps.

   Eyeing it suspiciously, expecting it to pounce at any moment, whether to eat him or just refuse to leave him alone, he slowly got up from his chair, and started sneaking towards the door.    It didn’t move, and once he’d closed the door to the office, he breathed a sigh of relief. This was the first moment since he’d encountered the creature, while out on a run earlier that afternoon, that he was alone.

   He stayed quiet as he went about his evening routines, listening intently for any sounds coming from the room at the end of the hall, where it was presumably now trapped, but he heard nothing.    Climbing into bed, he made himself relax and stop listening, and surprisingly easily drifted off to sleep.    And when he woke up the next morning, he’d all but forgotten about it, stretching and climbing out of bed to head for the toilet.

   It wasn’t until he stepped out into the hallway again, fully dressed and ready for work, that he remembered and looked at the office-door.    It was open. Crap.    Half expecting the thing to drop down on top of him again, he looked around in every direction, but there was nothing there. And a closer inspection of the office revealed it to be empty, unless it was hiding in the ceiling lamp.

   Feeling… uneasy, given that it seemed entirely likely that he might’ve hallucinated the whole thing, except for the open door, which he knew that he’d closed, he went to the kitchen.    He needed coffee and newspapers, normality.    Maybe he hadn’t imagined anything, maybe the damned thing had just been looking for a safe place to spend the night. Yeah, it was probably long gone.

   He collected the papers and poured the coffee, as always, sitting down on one of the stools at the island as he began to leaf through them, happy to find his own name absent, for once.    But then a movement to his right caught his eye and he automatically turned his head towards it, and then jumped off the stool, sending coffee and papers flying everywhere, because the seat next to him suddenly wasn’t empty.

   A woman sat there. And she looked… annoyed. He’d never seen her before, he would’ve remembered those incredibly green eyes, but she seemed to know him.

   “Who are you? And how did you get in here?” he demanded, but she just shook her head.

   “Where is it?” her voice seemed oddly familiar, like déjà vu, almost.

   “Huh? Where’s what?” he pressed, and she actually scoffed at him. She, the trespasser, had the nerve to scoff at him.

   “The dragon, dummy. What’d you do with it?”

   His face fell as his head began to hurt.    For one – the damned thing was real, and exactly what he’d hoped it wouldn’t be, despite its appearances. And two – this woman was some manner of superdupertrooper. Either an Amazon like Diana, or something else, but clearly not your average human.

   “Oh, great. So now when I’m finally getting back on track, finally getting my business working again, my life into some semblance of order, I’m being dragged back into the supernatural? No thank you.”

   “No one’s dragging you anywhere, Max, you invited the dragon to come with you.” her tone was a little too condescending, as the words alone would’ve been enough to make him feel stupefied.

   “I didn’t invite it! It wouldn’t leave me the hell alone!    I was just jogging in the canyon, minding my own business, and it dropped down on me out of the fucking blue and wouldn’t go away!”

   Despite his anger flaring, she started smiling, and it made his insides boil. The nerve of this woman…

   “Did you at any point say anything along the lines of: I don’t want your company, thank you. Or: Please leave me alone. Or, how about: I’m sorry, I can’t help you.?”

   He stood there fuming, but he couldn’t retort because he hadn’t said anything of the sort, which she had already figured out, evident as she carried on.

   “Or, did you say things more along the lines of: get away from me, what do you want, stop it, get off me…?”

   He wanted to take her face in his hands and squish it together, just to get rid of the ever-present smirk that sat somewhere in her upper lip and cheekbones.    But that still wouldn’t make her wrong in her assumptions.

   “A lizard dropped on me from a clear blue sky, and you think that I had the presence of mind to be polite? I thought it was gonna eat me!”

   Her responding cackle was infuriating, and he’d just about had it with this conversation.    The problem was that he didn’t know what sort of creature she was, or what she could do to him, nor how she got in or how he could possibly get her to leave against her will.

   “It’s two feet long! How would something that small eat all of…” she gestured casually to his entire person, “…you.”

   “Are you gonna tell me who or what you are, or should I just continue to mentally refer to you as Bitch?”

   If she was in any way offended by that, she didn’t show it. She got up from the stool and stepped closer, still with that smirk not-so-hidden in her features.

   “My name is Eden Tripom, and while you’re correct to assume that I’m not human, I have nothing to do with the Amazon’s.”

   “Eden… that’s rich. What do you want?” he huffed, trying to sound calm but failing slightly, because her sudden closeness was making him extremely nervous. She was smaller than him, in both length, breadth and overall, but there was something very… imposing about her.

   “I go where the dragon goes.” she shrugged.

   “But it’s not even here anymore!” he pressed, but her smile just widened.

   “So, because you can’t see it right now, it must’ve vanished? Is that how you go through life, Max? Never seeing the cracks and little nooks around you where things can hide.” she mused as she moved closer, so near him now that he could feel her body-heat against his shirt, and he reflexively started backing away. “Never acknowledging that perhaps even a dumb little lizard might just be smarter than you.”

   Moving ever closer, she now had him backed up against a wall, and didn’t stop until her body was flush against his and her breath left warm little trails on his neck.    And why the fuck was he aroused by that?

   “That sounds dangerously ignorant of a man that’s supposedly a great tactician and manipulator.”

   “I’m trying to be better.” he bit back, as her words cut at his insides. He was more than aware of his shortcomings, and the impact they’d had, especially on Alistair.

   She stepped back then, stopping just a few feet away, but enough to let him breathe a little easier and try and get his body to stop wanting to bend her over the nearest piece of furniture.

   “Good. Keep that up, Max. Because once you’ve invited it in, the dragon won’t leave until you’ve proven that your heart is good.”

   Wait… what?? He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, trying to get the headache to ease up, and when he opened them to ask what she meant by that, she was suddenly gone, leaving him reeling.

   “What the fuck is going on!?” he screamed while turning in a circle, but no one responded.

   He sighed and got to work cleaning up the coffee-stains and scattered papers, before leaving the house and getting in his car, heading into work and muttering to himself throughout the entire drive.    But when he parked in the underground garage and reached over to the passenger seat to get his leather bag, the thing was sitting on it. The thing that was apparently a miniature dragon and the biggest pain of his existence at that moment.

   “This is not happening. I have important meetings today; I can’t have a… You can’t come in with me.”

   It didn’t move at all, just kept ogling him with its big almond-shaped black eyes, seeming to twinkle at him like stars in what he assumed was its best attempt at puppy-eyes.

   “No. Absolutely not.” he persisted, crossing his arms over his chest demonstratively.

   He left the parking lot feeling oddly defeated, and indeed somehow outsmarted, with the damned dragon hiding in his bag.    But by the end of the day, he had to admit that he was positively surprised by the little critter. It hadn’t showed itself to anyone but him, actively hiding whenever someone was close, even warning him when someone was about to storm into his office unannounced, as it could apparently hear better than him, and quickly ducked out of sight.    He still didn’t understand why it had decided to cling to him, or what that whole thing with Eden was about, but at least they didn’t seem to wanna ruin anything for him.

   Getting back home that evening, he was tired, and ordered some pizza, eating in front of the tv, which he could only do when Alistair wasn’t home, and offered some to the dragon without really thinking about it. Everything needs to eat, right?    But it didn’t want any.    He hadn’t seen it put anything in its mouth at all, hadn’t even seen it open its mouth, come to think of it, and suddenly he was concerned.

   “You want something else? What the heck do dragons even eat?”

   He got up to go to the fridge, looking for something else to offer, but just as he opened it…

   “Mmm, this is good. Where’s it from?”

   He didn’t turn around, just closed the fridge door and sighed as he recognized the voice.

   “Eden. Please, help yourself.” his voice betrayed just how tired he was, not simply from the workday but of all this weirdness. Where did she even pop up from?    And when he did eventually turn, there she was, munching on a slice of pizza while curled up in his sofa, as comfy as if she’d lived there for years.

   “Thank you. How was your day?” she chirped, and he hated how the happiness in her voice made him envious.

   “Great.” he offered, but his tone was flat and since his appetite had all but vanished, he headed for his bedroom instead of returning to the sofa.

   “Hey, where are you going, you’ve barely touched your food?” she called after him and he stopped by the entrance to the hallway that led to the rooms, turning back to meet her eyes, watching the joy fade away as he answered.

   “Look, I’m not in the mood for whatever game this is. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the last year hasn’t been that good for me.    I did something terrible, and yes, I’m aware that I deserve the consequences, but I am trying to build an actual company again. I’m trying to give my son a tangible legacy, something he can inherit and be proud of, and it has been one battle after another, all the way, because no one wants to work with me.    So, whatever this is, just please… stop messing with me.”

   He didn’t wait to see if she’d reply, he just went to his bedroom and closed the door, finding the dragon sitting on his pillow, and for the first time, he was glad to see it. Glad to not be alone.

   The rest of the week carried on in much the same vein, the creature staying beside him no matter where he went or what he did, but always out of sight, and before he knew it, he’d started treating it like a pet.    Talking to it whenever they were alone, mindlessly stroking the smooth scales over its sides, unknowingly shifting himself to accommodate it whenever it came looking for affection or closeness.    By Saturday, the only thing that bugged him about it, was that Eden had never come back after Tuesday evening’s pizza talk.

   She’d said that she went wherever the dragon did, and that he’d need to prove himself a good person before it would leave him alone, which he’d assumed meant that he wouldn’t get rid of her either, until then. Yet, she was nowhere to be seen.    Alistair would be back from his mother’s the next evening, and he wasn’t sure how to explain how or why the creature was there. He still didn’t understand it himself.

   That night as he was about to get into bed, he sat down on the side of it, looking at the dragon that was already curled up in its usual spot, by the right-hand side corner of the pillow, pushing its neck up against the softness of the down.

   “I’m sorry.” he offered gently, watching it open its eyes and look at him, realizing that he would miss those eyes if it left him.    “For yelling at you when you first appeared and being less than kind in my efforts to get rid of you. I was shocked and scared, but Eden was right; that’s no excuse. If I’d just stopped and looked at you, I would’ve seen that you meant me no harm.    I don’t know why you chose me, or what it is that either of us are supposed to do, but… I wanna thank you. Thank you for letting me feel less alone. And for reminding me that kindness gets you further than false charm.”

   The dragon slowly rose to its feet, and then sat down on its haunches before him, and as he watched, it changed colour, from the darkest black to a gorgeous emerald green. From its claws to its tail and the tips of its wings it now almost shined and glimmered against the light of the bedside lamp.    But something about its eyes suddenly seemed different.    It took him a minute to see it, but then his eyes widened as the realization dawned. He’d seen that look before, just not on a creature.

   “Eden…?”

   Before his eyes, the dragon transformed, until the only hint that it had once been a cute little lizard, was that deep green of her eyes that had been the first thing he’d noticed about her.

   “Well done, Max. You’ve proved a good man at heart, which means I can now leave you in peace.”

   “Wait… I don’t understand. Why-… Who are you? Why did you do this? Why me?” he rattled off the questions as they crashed through his mind, trying to put any piece of the puzzle together, but failing entirely.

   “I’ve had a lot of names over the years, but they all mean the same thing. Whether in a language your people have long forgotten, or in the form of an anagram, whatever I call myself it always holds the same meaning.”

   Anagram. He was good at those, so it surprised him that he hadn’t worked it out sooner.

   Eden Tripom.

   “Redemption…” it fell from his lips in a whisper, the incredulous, awestruck whisper of a man fully aware that he was utterly undeserving.    He always had been. Always. In every stretch and period of his life, he’d been repeatedly informed that he was worthless, a fact now so harshly ingrained in his person that he internally rebelled against what she was offering.    But she could see it and refused to let him.

   “I chose you because I could see your pain from the stratosphere, Maxwell. You carry so much injustice, so much hurt, that it spills onto the whole world when you lose control of it.    The dreamstone was a catalyst, amplifying that part of you for its own benefit, but it didn’t create it. And as long as you cling to that pain, you will always be at risk for something else to bite into it and make it spread.    But that is not who you are. You’ve shown me who you truly are, and it is a beautiful thing to behold. Don’t ever let that go, Max.”

   She didn’t give him a chance to object to her words, as she leaned forwards and pulled him into her embrace, kissing him with the sweetest passion and sparking his own as though a lightning bolt had struck him.    Over the course of that night, she used his pleasure to draw pain out of his heart, inch by inch. Leaving him so raw after each tussle, that he broke down and confessed things to her, cried into the softness of her skin, begged her to love him and to never leave him.

   And when the new day dawned, he awoke to a feeling of excitement that he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a young boy.    His bed was empty, but still he smiled. Because somehow, she hadn’t just broken down his walls and forced him to deal with his pain, she’d also taken it out of him, and the freedom that suddenly spread through him in its stead, was too amazing to let him feel sad.

   He skipped into the living room, turned on the radio and danced to the first piece of music that filled the space, sang along as he recognized it, clapping his hands and whooping when there were no lyrics to follow.    He couldn’t remember ever having felt so light and happy.

   Something made the entire house shake for a moment, and he stopped moving to listen. It sounded again shortly before the sunlight outside the windows and French doors on the south side of the building were obscured, and all at once, he knew what it was.    He ran for the doors, opening them up wide as he stepped through them and looked up at what was now a full-sized green dragon, just landing in his backyard.

   Her scales seemed almost sheer against the brightness of the sun, and her almond-eyes, peering down on him from some twenty feet in the air, were without question the same ones he’d been staring into all night.    It was impossible and strange and perhaps kinky to think that he’d spent six hours fucking a dragon, but he didn’t care. She was so much more than that, and he would forever be grateful for her attention. For choosing him.

   There was nothing left to be said between them, this was just a gesture of goodbye.    She held his gaze for another few moments, and then leapt into the air and took to the skies, carrying his pains and sorrows to be burned away in the heat of the sun outside the protection of the atmosphere.

   And after half a life wasted trying to outrun or outdo his own past, Max was finally free.

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

@deadhumourist @idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16

#sirowsky's birthday celebration #max lord fanfiction #max lord x ofc #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #maxwell lorenzano #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters