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slushycoookie · 1 month ago

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Hey, Hey, It's Your Birthday! ~ Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader (18+)

Word Count: 3.8k

Content: You go to the fair with Miguel. Brief mention of vomiting. Miguel hates those rides to death. Fried butter (yeah, it's a content warning). Face sitting. Oral sex, fem! receiving. Vaginal sex.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE AND GR! MIGUEL CREATOR @bluesidez! It's officially your birthday for me now, but you deserve everything you want in life and more. So take this little something something I made for you.

GymRat! Miguel who's very excited about your birthday.

He’s planned for it ever since you two were together: what to do, where to go, and what he would do to you. However, that last part was for later.

He didn’t give you many details of what he was planning, either. He only told you to wear something comfortable but still cute due to the cooler weather. He didn’t leave you any room to ask questions, either.

GymRat! Miguel who picked you up early.

The place you two were going to was open all day, but he thought it was best to go early. When he greeted you at the dorm, he was blown away. Your outfit, albeit comfortable with the black cargo pants and matching long-sleeve shirt, was cute.

“You look gorgeous.” Miguel said with a kiss, careful not to mess up your make-up.

“Thank you. So do you.”

He looked down at his denim jacket and sweatshirt, grinning at your compliment.

“Anything for my baby.”

GymRat! Miguel who still doesn’t tell you where you’re going. He did say the drive was far, about forty-five minutes away and to get comfortable. You pull up a fall playlist and connect your phone to the aux cord. There, you two make those minutes fly by, jamming out in the car.

GymRat! Miguel who gave himself a mental pat on the back at your gasp when pulling up into the parking lot.

It’s a fall fair that’s supposed to be there for a few weeks before moving on to the next state. You had mentioned going to one would be fun. You couldn’t think of the last time you been to one. Miguel thought taking you to the fair would be an impressionable birthday gift with many things to do.

The rides, the food, the games. Everything there to make it the best birthday ever. At least, he hoped so.

“What do you think-”

“I love it!” You hug his neck and pepper his face with your kisses.

GymRat! Miguel who decided to start with the rides first. Work up a good appetite and not worry about you two throwing up later.

There were a myriad of options to choose from. Rides that spin you high in the air, shake you back and forth, or spin you while you're sitting down.

“What do you want to start with?”

You hum, taking a look at your options.

“I saw one where you have to grab on handlebars while the ride spins very high.”

“You gonna be okay with that?” Miguel watched the ride in question, seeing the ride go high up in the air as people held on tight.

You merely nod, taking his hand to stand in line.

As you two got closer and closer, Miguel kept asking if you were sure you wanted to do it and how there were many other rides the two of you could go on.

“Are you sure you don't wanna go on this ride?”

“Huh? What? I'm fine.”

“Mmhm.” Your cute grin isn't lost on him, “It's okay. I'll hold your hand the entire time.”

“I said I was fine.”

GymRat! Miguel who was not fine.

His heartbeat could be heard in his ears, and sweat clung to his neck. His legs almost shook when he stepped on the ride, and you were blissfully unaware. Children halfway below his age were more ecstatic than him, gripping onto the two bars and grinning with glee.

You matched the energy of the children as you shimmied, chain in front of you for security.

“You ready?”

“Uh-huh.” Miguel gulped and you leaned over.

“Hey, we really don't have to do this if-”

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” He gives you a smooch as if to reassure you. But it was also for himself.

GymRat! Miguel who had his eyes shut the entire time.

Surrounded by screams, a mix of enjoyment and fear while the ride spun around and around. Miguel had a death grip on the bars when the ride slanted, angled in a way where he felt higher than before. He tried to take a risk by popping one eye open, but at the wrong time, the ride made them so high up that he could see the cars in the parking lot.

At least he heard you enjoy yourself, your screams matching the pitch of the kids.

“That was so much fun!” You hold on to his arm, giggling and laughing. Miguel was holding on to you too, a little dizzy, stomach twisting. Didn't help that someone quickly ran out of the ride to vomit in the nearest trash can.

“I'm glad you had fun…”

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Mhm. What's next?”

“I can get you some water or something.” You start looking around, but he stopped you.

“I'm ok. Really.”

He was going to kick Gabriel's ass the next time he saw him. Giving him so much trauma to the point rides make him uneasy. But that wasn't going to ruin your day.

“Okay. I saw this one ride that drops you. Come on.”

Miguel’s stomach churned at that as you’re pulling him along. It still does it when you two are strapped in next to another couple. He's watched six other people before him release blood-curdling screams once the ride drops them, and he wasn’t looking forward to that.

“Can you hold my hand?”

You instantly take it, seeing his uneasy face. “I got you.”

GymRat! Miguel who hated that ride the most.

As the two of you went higher and higher, the grip on your hand got stronger. His heart picked up in speed, and sweat reached his palms. You gasped at how high up you were, seeing the entire fair in your line of sight. Miguel admires your incredulous face, the uneasiness going away at how much of a good time you were having.

Then came the drop.

You and Miguel let out the same shriek when the chairs dropped down. The drop hit his stomach and made him queasy. And it only lasted two seconds.

“Fuck that…” The guy from the couple next to you two let out.

Miguel wanted to fist-bump him in solidarity.

You were just fit as a fiddle, with no hints of being sick or anything worse.

“So fun!”

“Very fun!” Miguel then groaned, holding his stomach.

“Ok, let's get you something to drink.”

You got two glasses of water, and he gulped it down like he hadn't had a drink in years. Good enough to make him feel better. Although he wasn't sure if he could take going on another death ride.

“You know, I saw think I saw a ride that's perfect for you.”

When you took his hand, you led him to a car line, similar to a zip line that takes you all across the fair from above. It was not extreme or intense, which would make him sick, but a nice, gentle ride.

GymRat! Miguel who was grateful for your generosity.

He can do heights if he isn’t hurled at unpredictable speeds.

The car line was peaceful. It was slow, taking the two of you through the entire fair. He could see those death traps, making more fairgoers its victim. The rows of games that you pointed out were the ones you wanted to go to later. The scent of fried food hit his nostrils, an endless amount of options to pick from.

“See? This isn’t so bad right?”

“It’s not.” He kissed your hand, and you smiled at the affection.

When getting off of the ride, your stomach growled in unison—time to eat.

The lingering scent of fried food and freshly popped popcorn radiated all over the fair. You two ordered from a few stands before carrying the food to a wooden bench. Miguel sprawled out his arms as if it were a gourmet meal.

“Bon appetit.” He kissed his fingers for emphasis.

It was standard fair food. A hot dog and fries topped off with an orange slushie. But there was a main thing Miguel wanted you to try.

“Ever had these?” He presents to you fried oreos, displayed on a tray with a dash of powdered sugar.

“No. How good are they?”

“Better than fried butter.”

You scrunched your face, “Ew, you had that?”

“Blame my brother.”

Miguel handed you a cookie, dusting some of the sugar off so it wouldn’t stain your clothes. He leans forward while watching you take a bite, a glint in your eyes.

“Oh my god.”

“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or?”

“Gimme some more.”

He handed you another one, and you hummed at the crispy yet fluffy texture. “Why haven’t I had these before?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what boyfriends are for.”

You managed to get powdered sugar on your shirt, which Miguel quickly wiped off. He also made a mental note to tell the group chat that the fried oreos were a win.

GymRat! Miguel who declares the rest of the rides off limits since you two ate.

You weren’t mad at all once you saw the endless number of games on display. There were so many options to pick from, from knocking off bowling pins to aiming three darts at balloons to win a prize. This was your day, so Miguel wanted you to pick the ones that caught your eye.

One game involved you two blowing enough water in a hole to fill a clown head. You stretched your arms in preparation while Miguel rolled his neck.

“Winner gets this little guy!” The booth owner showed you two a small, orange rubber duck.

“That’s you.”

Miguel playfully rolled his eyes, “You just called me cute.”

The timer counted down. 3…2…1!

Miguel was hyper-focused in trying to get the water into the hole. His eyes darted back and forth between his clown head filling up and then yours. You’re obviously a pro, as your head managed to have more water than his. That wouldn’t stop him, his thumbs pressing the buttons harder, under the impression that more water would shoot out.

But he had to admit defeat as the bell rang at your victory.

“Yes! In your face!” You jumped up in your chair and did a little victory dance. Miguel couldn’t be upset since your dance was adorable.

The rubber duck was presented to you, and you showed it to him with glee.

“You got a name for it?”

“Hmm, I like Miggy.”

The two of you laugh at the honking noise the prize makes when you squeeze it.

The next game consisted of dart throwing. Miguel saw this giant, blue teddy bear, making his mission to give to you. He wasn’t bad at playing darts, but now, with his girlfriend watching his every move, he was going to be great at them. The objective was to pop the same colored balloons to get the prize. He had to pop three white ones to get you the bear.

“You got this.” You cheered him on and kiss him on the cheek, before giving him some room.

GymRat! Miguel who lined up the first shot perfectly, hitting the white balloon with ease.

Your cheer made his chest swell before moving on to the next one. The balloon was slightly higher, but it wasn’t an issue. He stretched his arms when the second balloon popped. Almost ready to win his girlfriend the prize.

The third time he throws the dart, the wind blew and it curved to the blue balloon, popping it.

Miguel threw his arms up, “Are you serious? Did you see that?”

“I saw it.” The guy who ran the booth said, “No prize for you.”

“Let me try again.” Miguel started digging into his pockets and you stop him.

“Hey, it's okay. I don't need it.”

“You don't, but today is your special day and I'm getting you that bear.” He pulled out more tickets for the owner. Three more darts are placed in front of him and you continue to cheer him on.

Everything was the same. He managed to hit two balloons, but not the third one.

“This game is rigged.”

“Or maybe, you suck.” The guy teased.

Miguel tsked, pulling out more tickets. “One more time.”

“You know, I think I saw the same bear at the game with the goldfish.” You whispered but he shook his head.

“No, I saw the bear here and I'm gonna get it for you here.”

“Okay, babe.” You accepted defeat, walking back with your hands up.

Once again, three darts were placed before him, and he took a deep breath. Miguel took his time, not caring if a line was forming behind him. He was going to win this for you. The first dart hit its target, then the second one. On the third, he paused, waiting for any amount of wind or subtle distraction to keep him from winning that bear. With confidence in his chest, the dart landed, popping the final white balloon.

Miguel hugged you tight while you cheered for him. A couple of passersby applauded him for his achievement.

The booth owner frowned, handing him the stuffed bear. “Congrats.”

Miguel presented the bear to you with a giant smile. Seeing it overshadow you when you tried to hold it, he decided to hold on to it for you.

“I should get you something.” You ponder among all the booths you haven't gone to yet.

“It's your birthday, not mine.”

“For my birthday, I want to win something for you.”

Miguel wasn’t going to push back and let you decide where to go.

There was a booth that included a ring toss. And a cute stuffed bunny with a bow that practically had Miguel’s name on it.

The game was simple: toss the rings on the bottles. If you managed to get five, you won the stuffed animal. Easy peasy.

“Let me know if it's hard.” Miguel said, “I can always do it.”

“It's okay, I got it.”

He didn't doubt you at all. Not when you managed to toss five rings with ease. Able to carry the medium-sized prize in your arms. Miguel was so glad to have someone like you.

Before returning to the car, Miguel circled to the food area to grab another batch of fried oreos. The two of you munching in the car as he drove back.

“Did you have a good time?”

You nod, licking the powdered sugar from your fingers. “I did! Thanks for taking me.”

At a stop light, Miguel gave you a peck on the lips.

“The day isn't over yet. Are you okay with staying at my place? Peter won't be there until tomorrow morning. So it's just us.”

“Of course, I'm okay with that.”

GymRat! Miguel who contained his excitement when pulling out a couple of gift bags.

After returning from the fair, you two showered, put on something comfortable, and turned on a vlog about restaurants making bread. Your eyes lit up at the bags in front of you.

“Oh god, don't tell me you went overboard.”

“I didn't go overboard. Just see.”

He hands you the first present, the glitter-covered bag shining in your eyes. You pull out a pack of satin bonnets, in various colors from blue to pink.

“You know I got a bunch of these, right?”

“It doesn't hurt to have more.” You pulled out the same pack, and Miguel quickly grabbed it. Uh, wait. I think those are mine.”

“You got some bonnets too?”

“The nice lady at the register gave them to me for free, and I thought, ‘We could match.’”

“We could.”

You open the pack and choose the blue one, putting it on. Miguel did the same and you two quickly go in for a cute selfie.

“There’s more.” Out of the bag, there's a hoodie with the same satin texture. “Just in case you didn't feel like wearing your bonnet.”

“Why would I sleep in my hoodie though?”

“Sometimes the heat doesn't work in these buildings.”

You snort and pull out a few satin pillowcases. Miguel doesn't look at you and pretend the bakers making cheese-stuffed bread was more interesting. Only to get smacked in the face with one.

“How many satin-related items did you buy?”

“Only those!”

“Are you sure?” You started digging into the bag, but your suspicions were relieved when there was nothing else.

“See?”

“There’s still another bag.”

Miguel handed you the next one, a bit smaller and lighter than the first one. You raised your brow, and he swore on his life that there was nothing else related to satin.

Instead, you pulled out a pink sweatshirt, white shorts, and matching sneakers. Miguel gave himself another mental pat on the back for getting your sizes right.

“We don't have to workout every day, but I thought if you do want to go to the gym with me, we could wear these one day.”

He went into his dresser and pulled out the same pair.

“I can't believe you wanna match with me.”

“I love you. I'd wear anything you wear.”

“Careful, I might take it to heart.”

“Please do.” Miguel held your hand in his, “I would wear anything you'd ask, I'm so serious.”

“Miguel…” You pushed the gifts aside to kiss him. His hands are on your back, not once having you part ways from him. Your giggles are absorbed into his mind as his lips cover your face.

Now, he could bring up his next present.

“You should sit on my face.”

“You know it’s my birthday, right?”

“I know.” Miguel tugged along the hum of your pajama pants, “This is another one of my gifts to you.”

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty, not meeting his gaze. “You know I’m heavy.”

“Baby, do I need to bring up how much I lifted last week?”

He met your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t force you into something you didn’t want to do. He wanted to cater to you in any way he could.

“Okay.” Miguel would get up and click his heels together if he could. “You have to pinch me if I’m smothering you.”

“I don’t care if I die in between your legs.”

“Miguel…”

“Okay, okay.” He gave you a reassuring peck, “I will.”

GymRat! Miguel who felt his pants getting tight already when you slowly pull off your pants. You’re taking your time, as if you were waiting for him to back out and change your mind. He was adamant. He wanted you on his face. Nothing will change his mind about that.

He helped you maneuver on the bed. Already he can see your pretty cunt above him. Your thick thighs enclosed around his head. He’s had too many dreams about this.

“Don’t hover. You better sit.”

“Fine.”

Once you sit, he’s immediately on you.

Miguel can’t help but groan into your cunt, you being his most favorite thing to taste. His fingertips press along your thighs to make sure you keep steady. His tongue parted your folds and bumped along your clit. The tip circled around it, making you shift above him.

His toes curl, hearing your sweet sounds of pleasure. Not to mention with every flick of his tongue, your thighs squeeze along his head. Miguel grunted into your pussy when you do that. Your hips rock into his face, and he moves with you. His lips enclose around your clit to suck on it.

“Aah!”

Miguel placed a hand on your back, not stopping when he sucks once more. He’s rock-hard at this point. The urge to pull down his pants to fuck you was increasing. He flattened his tongue and licked a stripe up, your back following the same motion. You grip his hair after that. Miguel’s tip leaking cum when you pull on it. A shiver surrounded him, groaning to get you to do it again. You get the hint.

He’s alternating between sucking your sensitive bud and prodding your hole with his tongue. Surrounded by all of you, the love of his life. Miguel’s tone was light when he mentioned being okay to die between your legs. But he was serious.

The rocking of your hips picks up speed. The tight grip he has on your thighs waver, having trouble keeping you steady while eating you out. He knew you were close when your thighs tightened around him. You’re whimpering, begging for him to keep going.

“Please don’t stop, please I’m almost there…”

Miguel doesn’t. One last suck to your clit, causing you to tremble above him. Your moans reaching to the ceiling while you squeeze around him tighter. It does get harder to breathe but he doesn’t tell you that. He inhaled when he could, prolonging your orgasm by circling your clit.

He masked his disappointment when you got off—licking his lips while watching you come down from your high.

“You got any more gifts for me?”

Miguel pretended to think it over, “I think I have a few...”

Your naked body was pressed along the wall. He sunk his wrapped cock into you while his tongue brushed along yours. Miguel made sure your legs were tight around his waist, holding the underside of your thighs.

He thrusted up into you, shaking the room of his apartment. It’s a very good thing Peter wasn’t here. Miguel’s been wanting to do this to you for a long time. His quick thrusts into your slick sex, you holding on to the nape of his neck while crying in his shoulder. He hoped all of the other presents didn’t compare to this.

“You feel so good…” Miguel muttered, focusing on your plump, delectable body. “So good…”

You couldn’t say anything back as his tip pressed along your G-spot. Your mouth wide open, eyes rolled to the back of your head. He swore he could see a dribble pool from the corner of your lips. His grunting and groaning align with your moaning and whimpering. The melodic sound of skin smacking against skin in the background.

“Oh, I love you…I love you…” You babbled, nails digging into his neck.

Miguel shuddered, thrusts faltering. “I love you too.”

With the combined sensation of his pelvis rubbing along your clit and his cock hitting your cervix, it doesn’t take long for you to climax again. Your walls around him cause his balls to tighten. Miguel wasn’t too far behind, and he unloaded into the condom. His heavy breath fanning your head.

GymRat! Miguel coated your face with kisses before nuzzling your neck. Still having enough strength, he placed you on his bed, not resisting to give you another kiss, especially since your face had a look of pure bliss.

“Happy birthday.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #x reader #x chubby reader #x plus size reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel fanfic #slushycoookie writes

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unabashednightmarepizza · 7 months ago

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A/N: I am just starting to play Honkai so if there is anything wrong or that just doesn't make sense, please tell me!

A/N ²: This is me attempting to adopt and protect my babies, wrapping them in cotton and never leaving their side... And I got sleepy at the end, or else I would have written Aventurine and Dan Heng too :( If anyone has ideas for Honkai SAGAU, please do send some asks 👏🏻

Imagine... The Creator!Reader in Honkai verse. You were just idly passing by, to see what your children were doing after the Ones you left in charge... Pretty much usurped your throne.

Imagine the Creator!Reader seeing, witnessing all the deaths and sorrow IPC created...in the name of "economy". Such thing was absurd, why would they do that, slaving and using people for their benefit to make more and more when you gave all the humans and even the Aeons enough source to love in harmony?

Why would they destroy people, families, lives... Planets?

Imagine... Creator!Reader's disappointment as They slump back on their throne. They gave them life, opportunities to overcome their mind's limit and be someone to be remembered... They gave them life sources, water, air, planets to live on, souls to feel and think and passions to find a reason to be alive... And yet, there were some people, the people of your Aeon Qlipoth, who was usualy indifferent, deciding that they were the ones to destroy the harmony and balance you had settled for everyone.

They thought Yours wasn't the final saying, that your word wasn't the absolute

How many more times did they have to go through all of the syages of self-destruction before they finally used their mind and consciousness together? Before they realized your Balance was the most beneficial for everyone?

Imagine... Knowing what would happen, even though pain was a constant part of human life, They didn't want their creation to suffer such a fate. Loosing humanity, everything that made humans humans... Loosing your family and witnessing their deaths right before their eyes, only being seen as the sins someone that wasn't you did and being exiled, pushed aside and running away for not to be hunted and all the reasons for your disappointment... Creator!Reader decides to take the reigns.

First, they go to visit a certain father and daughter duo. They watch from the side as they spend time, caring for the horses, playing guitar and braiding each other's hair. They couldn't help the smile that slowly took over their face, watching with fondness at the innocence of that little toddler... Before their eyes met, and a spark erupted.

From now on, as much as Boothill was first skeptical about them, he accepted to have Them around since his daughter and siblings loved Them so much. The little girl often slept on Them while cuddling, her soul immediately knowing the presence of its creator... Of course They didn't tell them everything, that their lives would be over because of Their greedy creations... And of course, the fact that They were the Allmighty Creator they kept telling tales about.

They loved this little found family a lot, with the human body They crafted to blend in, and soon found Themselves attached. Soon, They found Themselves cooking and cleaning around, running after the children with a toddler attached to their hip as the silent affection between Them and Boothill grew with all the loving and fleeting touches, hugging and cuddling, stargazing at night but never leaving their eyes off of each other...

But an omnipresent being falling in love with their creations was...against the balance... Especially when the day of their death too, came closer, and They were the one who lied, although it was to protect them.

But please, they were the Creator, to Weaver of All Fates, were the measly humans really going to stop Them? Take what was rightfully theirs?

Don't think so.

Before the fall of the planet, when all the equipments of IPC broke and the Path of those who worked under it, alongside Qlipoth's, were taken away for some time... That was when Qlipoth understood that they initially fucked up and angered the Creator. Now, another Aeon who had a head over their shoulders, would probably go nuts with fear and cower at some kind of corner of the universe...

But greed? Greed was often stronger that rationality.

Did any of that shitty behaviour stop? No, not really.

So, it was up to you to save and protect all those traumatised kids... And also make sure that a whole race didn't get wiped out.

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

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Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

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absurdthirst · 6 months ago

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Pretty Woman {Max Lord x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: Prostitution, sex work, mentions of drug use, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, mentions of classicism and discrimination, anal sex, public sex, domestic violence, assault

Comments: A chance encounter on the boulevard has Max Lord paying to spend a night with you, then the week. Giving you an experience you never imagined.

A/N: Obviously based off Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts, but we did not add any physical descriptions of the reader beyond being able to wear clothing from Rodeo Drive

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Lord 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 boulevard is busy tonight. Cars pass by but no one stops to pick you up. You sigh, reaching up to scratch your scalp under the itchy blonde bob wig you're wearing. Your feet are starting to ache in these ridiculous boots Kit gave you to wear. "We say what. We say who. We say how much." Kit reminds you as you stand on your corner and your head turns when a sports car comes along the street, the gears grinding. "Catch this." Kit says and your eyes widen, "that's a Lotus Esprit." You exclaim, watching the car come to a screeching stop.

"No. That's rent. You should go for him." Kit says and you huff, "you look hot tonight. Don't take less than one hundred." She finishes, reminding you once again that your rent is due tonight. "Call me when you're through and take care of you." She says and you nod, adjusting your dress after you give her a hug. You take your jacket off, swaying your hips as Kit tells you to work it and you approach the car.

"You can handle this." Max says to himself as he fiddles with the gearshift.

"Hey sugar, you looking for a date?" You ask as you lean in the window.

"No, I wanna find Beverly Hills, can you give me directions?" Max asks, clearly frustrated and you smother your smirk.

"Sure....for five bucks." You say and Max scoffs, "that's ridiculous."

You shrug, "price just went up to ten." Max looks at you incredulously, "you can't charge for directions."

You chuckle, "I can do whatever I want baby, I ain't lost." You shift away from his window and he sighs, "fine. You got change for a twenty?" He asks and you shake your head as you get in the front seat.

"For that, I can show you personally. This is a hot car. Uh, lights would be good." You tell him as he pulls away from the curb. He comes to a stop at the light and you can tell he's struggling to drive this car. "What's your name?" He asks you after telling you he did not steal the car.

"What do you want it to be?" You ask and he turns to look at you with those dark eyes that seem to look through you. You sigh and give him your name. He tells you he's staying at the Beverly Wiltshire and you are impressed, giving him directions. "This car is amazing. Four cylinders and it rounds corners like it's on rails." You exclaim and Max looks at you, "you know about cars?" He asks and you shrug, "grew up around it at home. Mustangs...corvettes...they'd fix 'em up and sell 'em." You explain and the gears grind.

"You ever driven a Lotus?" Max asks and you shake your head. "Well, you're going to now." He says and you're soon behind the drivers wheel.

"These have pedals that are really close together so it's easier for a woman to drive." You tell him, "good for little feet. Did you know your foot is the length of your wrist to your elbow?" You ask Max who stares at you in amusement.

"No, I didn't know that." He confesses, "tell me...what kind of money do you girls make nowadays?" Max asks.

"No less than $100..." You say, "a night?" Max raises his eyebrows and you shake your head, "an hour."

"An hour?" He asks, "you make $100 an hour and you got a safety pin holding your boot up? You gotta be joking." He snorts and you shrug, "I never joke about money."

Max chuckles, "neither do I. $100 an hour is pretty stiff." He says and you smirk, sliding your hand into his lap to press your hand into his groin, "well, no, but it's got potential." You tease until you pull your hand back and focus on driving to the Wiltshire.

Max looks out over the city and his stomach twists with nerves and anticipation. He is here to make his mark, to take over a company that had once looked down on him, refused to do business with him. Now he is poised to take over. To dismantle it piece by piece as soon as the deal is done. Despite his thousand dollar suits and suite at the Beverly Wiltshire, he’s not as confident as he pretends to be. “How much for the night.” He asks suddenly, deciding that he will do better if he spends the night with a beautiful woman and you are that.

You smirk, looking over at him. "Honey, you couldn't afford me." He snorts, "try me." You squeeze the steering wheel, "three hundred." You tell him, knowing you need to pay your rent.

Max mulls it over for a second before he nods, "done."

You internally squeal, knowing Kit is gonna be so proud of you. You pull up outside of the hotel and he is greeted by the doorman. "Welcome, Mr. Lord." You are impressed and he glances at your dress, shrugging off his Burberry trench coat.

"Put this on." He says and you frown, following his order.

"Great. Now I look like a hooker in a trench coat." You joke and his eyes meet yours for a second before he's heading into the hotel. "Holy shit." You hiss in shock at the expensive decor. He checks in and orders champagne and strawberries for the room. "Ooo fancy." You coo, caressing his back and trying to ignore the stares of everyone in the lobby of the hotel. He is soon escorting you to the escalator and you notice the woman looking at you with disdain so you lift your leg up onto the silver trash can by the escalator. "Oh no, honey. I've torn my pantyhose." You huff and caress your thigh. "Oh wait...I'm not wearing them." You giggle, winking at the woman's husband before you lower your leg. The escalator doors open and you rush in, excited to see this hotel room.

Max tuts, smirking slightly at your moxie as he follows you inside. He’s decided that he likes you. You aren’t stiff and boring, just like his ex-wife accused him of being. Pressing the button for the penthouse, he watches your eyes widen dramatically. He doesn’t expect that your clients often take you to the penthouse. He watches you fidget, wondering what you will do with the three hundred dollars he is paying you. Hopefully it’s not for drugs.

When the elevator arrives, the bellboy watches you as you walk down the hall to the double doors and Max turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, until the young man's face falls and he straightens up. Max unlocks the door and you walk in, mouth open as you take in the lavish suite. "Impressed?" He asks and you shrug, "you kidding me? I come here all the time. As a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour." You tease him, walking out onto the balcony. "I bet you could see all the way to ocean from here." You exclaim and Max sits down at the desk, "come inside." He tells you, "I don't go out there."

You frown as you walk in, setting your purse down on the sofa. "Why not?" You ask and he sighs, "I'm afraid of heights." You snort, "then why'd you get the penthouse?"

Max straightens up a little, "it's the best." He declares and you nod, confused by his desire to have 'the best of everything' and yet he hired you for the night.

"Now that I'm here...what do you want to do?" You ask, biting your lip and he sighs, "I - I don't really know." You are surprised by this. Most men would've already been having a smoke after getting their orgasm over with. You sit down on the sofa, "well...one way to break the ice is to pay me." You tell him and he nods, reaching into his jacket for his pocket book and he pulls out three one hundred dollar notes. You move to sit down on the edge of his desk and take the cash, shoving it in your boot.

"You're on my fax." Max tells you and you chuckle tilting to the side so he can pull the paper out from under your ass, "well that's one I haven't been on before." You unzip your boot, pulling out the condoms you keep there. "Right. Pick one. I got red, I got blue. I'm out of purple. I have one gold coin left. The condom of champions. Nothing getting through this sucker." You flick it and lean closer to him.

He stands up and you reach for his jacket. "Right, let's get one of these on you?" You suggest and he shakes his head, "why don't we just talk for a bit?" You click your tongue, "talk. Yeah, uh, okay. Max...are you in town for business or pleasure?" You ask, watching him sit down on the sofa and you move to straddle him but he moves so you sit down on the ottoman. "I think you're a lawyer." You guess, crossing your arms and leaning forward to let him see your cleavage.

His eyes flicker down to your chest and he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his suit trousers. “Business.” He answers. “Not a lawyer, lawyers are bloodsucking bastards.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at how much his team of lawyers costs him per hour.

You giggle, reaching out to caress his thighs as he reclines against the sofa. “Ain’t that the truth.” You say just as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. Make myself useful.” You stand up and walk over to the door. The hotel worker is surprised when his eyes trail down your dress and he asks where you want the champagne. “Where do we want it?” You ask Max.

“On the bar.” He says and the man carries it over. He stands there after he sets it down and stares at you expectedly.

“What you looking at?” You ask and Max sighs, standing up and pulling a note out of his pocket. “Here.” Max says and the man nods, “thank you sir.” He exits the door and Max comes over to pop the champagne.

“Oh.” It’s cute, the way you deflate slightly when you realize you had been a little overzealous in your attitude towards the bellboy. “Here.” He pours a flute of champagne and hold it out to you. “Have it with a strawberry.”

You frown, “why?” You take a large gulp of the champagne before you bite on the strawberry.

“Just relax. I got some work to do.” He says and walks over to the desk. You frown at his retreating form and you sit down and grab the tv remote. You turn it on to an old episode of “I love Lucy” and you lay down on your stomach with the strawberries and champagne.

Max looks up from the report and smiles as he watches you. You’re kicking your feet and laughing like a little kid. It’s sweet and you don’t seem like a woman of the night, even with your provocative dress on. It’s honestly a joy to watch you and he has to tear himself away to look back down at the report.

You giggle at the show until Max tells you he’s done with his work. “So…you wanna keep talking?” You ask Max after you sit down on the sofa beside him. He stares at you for a second, his dark eyes burning into you in a way you’ve never felt before, and he slowly shakes his head. He leans in towards you but you pull back, “I have one rule. I don’t kiss.” You tell him and he nods. “Tell me what you like.” You demand softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t really know.” Max admits softly. He knows you are more experienced, you have sex for a living. “What do you like? For yourself?” He knows that he will cum no matter what, but he would like to learn something that maybe he doesn’t know. Which wouldn’t be hard to do.

You’re surprised. No one ever asks you that. You never ever expect to cum or receive pleasure. You’re here to do a job. To make him feel good. “I, uh, I like to ride. I like to feel a little in control.” You confess, knowing that most men want to fuck you from behind to make them feel powerful.

“Okay.” He nods seriously, thinking about how he feels about that. “Then ride me.” He decides. “You choose the condom you’re comfortable with, and you can decide how fast you go.”

You nod, taking the gold condom from your boot before you pull them to the side, taking off your socks as well. He watches you, making no moves, and you decide to make this good for him. You set your boots aside and place the condom on the coffee table, grabbing a cushion from the sofa, you kneel between his legs and rub the bulge in his expensive slacks. “I want to suck your cock first.”

He’s surprised that you want to do that, his cock twitching in interest. “You don’t have to.” He promises. “I’m not- it’s not- you want to?” He is a little breathless at the prospect.

You nod, reaching for his Gucci belt buckle to undo it and you unbutton his pants. “Wanna make you feel good.” You murmur as you reach in to pull his hard cock out of his pants. He’s thick and your mouth waters as you lean in to lick a stripe along the underside.

“Oh fuck.” Max chokes out, his head dropping back against the sofa cushions and his eyes close. Your tongue is hot and wet against his cock and makes his stomach twist in pleasure. “Do you- do you like doing this?” He pants out quietly, a little more of his accent slipping out involuntarily.

You pull back, wrapping your fingers around him. “I don’t do this.” You confess, “I- I wanted to do this for you.” It’s true. You never allow oral but you want to do this for him after he’s shown you such a good time already. “I love doing this baby.” You coo, taking his head into your mouth and keeping your eyes on his.

Max groans, twitching in your mouth and biting his lip so he doesn’t grab your head. You are the one setting the pace and he finds it intoxicating. You are so pretty looking up at him with his cock in your mouth. “So pretty.” He praises. “It’s so good, baby, you’re so good to me.”

His slight accent has you getting wet and you moan around him, loving the way he groans and praises you. Your hands caress his thighs, still clad in a designer suit, but you take his cock a little deeper. Your spit combined with his pre-cum dribbling into the material. You moan around him, closing your eyes as you widen your jaw and breathe through your nose.

“It’s been so- so fucking long since I’ve had this.” Max moans out the confession, sure that it’s the best fucking blow job he’s ever had. “You gotta- gotta stop.” He pants out. “Gonna cum if you don’t.” His cock throbs and he wants nothing more than to spill down your throat but he wants you to ride him. He wants to feel your cunt around his cock.

You pull off of him, letting him decide what his body needs, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before you stand up. Your eyes meeting his as you slowly begin to remove your clothes, wanting to give him a show when he’s paying a lot of money for you. You tease, turning around and bending over as you remove your panties, his dark eyes fixed on your body as his chest heaves. When you turn around, you move to straddle his lap and lean in to run your nose along his jaw.

Max hums, still nearly completely dressed with just his slacks opened and his cock pulled out. It’s slightly sexier this way, with you naked on top of him. His hands are hovering over your hips for a few moments before he touches you. Groaning out loud when he grips your flesh and realizes this is actually going to happen.

You reach out to grab the condom, opening the foil packet and you pinch the tip before you work it down his cock. “Shit. You’re so thick.” You murmur, admiring him for a second before you move closer, lifting up to notch him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, your eyes on his face as you take him inside of you for the first time.

“Shiiiiiiiit” Max hisses, loving how tight you are as you slide down his cock. Taking him deep until your ass is against his thighs. He twitches deep inside your hot walls and he grits his teeth to keep from moving. “Holy shit, baby. You’re so tight. So hot.”

You watch him struggle with the need to take over. You can tell he’s used to being in control. You love the strain in his jaw as you start to slowly lift off of him. The slight whine that escapes his clenched teeth as you lift up until only the tip remains inside of you, then you slowly sink back down. “You can touch me, baby.” You remind him, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” He slides his hands over your hips and up to cup your tits. “You are so- so tight.” He groans. “Are you going to ride me or tease me?” He demands with a pout, groaning again when you clench down around him. He’s so close to cumming already and you’ve barely started riding him.

You tut, reaching up to grab his cheeks, “I’m in control of pace, remember?” You remind him, clenching around him again and he almost whimpers. Fuck, it’s intoxicating to have a man like him, powerful and rich, whimper for you. You take pity after a second, shifting to grab his shoulders for leverage as you start to move on top of him.

Max nearly whimpers again when you slowly roll your hips, your cunt locking down around him like a vice. You’re gorgeous and your mouth watering tits are in his face. “Can I suck on them?” He asks you desperately, wanting to touch you and make you feel as good as he does.

You nod, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, dragging his face to your chest. You moan when he wraps his lips around your nipple, biting down softly and you move your hips a little faster, loving the way he stretches him out.

It’s been a long fucking time since he’s fucked anyone and even longer than that since someone ridden him. He loves it though. For a moment, he pretends that you aren’t being paid and you want him. His cock twitches every time he sucks on your tit and it’s only when it’s hard and puffy does he switch over to the other.

Usually, you barely react to sex. It’s a job. Something to pay your rent and you’ve perfected the art of moans and whimpers to make the man paying you cum quicker. Tonight though, you’re in no rush. Max’s hands caress your back and his lips suck on your nipple, making you whimper and throw your head back. It’s the best you’ve felt having sex in so long. He’s thick and you feel him in places that seemed forgotten with your other clients. The control you have is intoxicating and you rock your hips a little faster, trying to find that spot that makes you cum.

Max groans into your flesh, his hands sliding down to your ass and squeezing. He doesn’t try to guide you, just rolls with your movement as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Enjoying it so much more that he had before because of the moans you give him. You’re incredible and you don’t make him feel inadequate.

“Fuck.” You hiss and grind forward, adjusting the angle and you moan at the way his cock hits just right inside of you. You bounce a little faster, “oh God. I- I’m gonna cum.” You confess breathlessly. You never orgasm with a customer. Most just rut into you until they cum a minute later but Max has you shaking above him.

“Don’t fake.” He begs, not wanting you to pretend like his ex wife claimed she did all throughout their marriage. “Want you to really cum for me.”

“Not- not faking.” You promise and reach for his hand, bringing it to your clit. “Rub.” You demand breathlessly and he wastes no time rubbing your clit. It’s perfect. The angle and his touch. You rock a half dozen more times until you cry out, clamping down on his cock and you moan his name.

Max chokes out a moan, Finding you completely gorgeous as you shake apart for him. Your cunt is like a vice around him and he’s not going to be able to hold out. “Fuck, baby.” He hisses, leaning forward and burying his mouth against your pulse to keep from kissing you as he starts to fill the condom.

You moan as he cums, caressing his shoulders and back, and you rock him through it. “So good, baby. So good.” You murmur as he groans into your skin.

You weren’t faking, you couldn’t have faked that. Max moans into your skin, sighing softly when he relaxes. “Fuck.” He pants, still breathing you in. Your perfume is surprisingly bright and clean and he enjoys it. “That was amazing.”

You are pleased he’s happy. Reaching down to grip the base of his cock before you lift off of him, slumping down on the sofa as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t had an orgasm in so long and you turn to look at Max. “Satisfied, Mr. Lord?” You ask teasingly.

Max hums, still blissful from his orgasm. “Call me Max.” He murmurs. “I think that I might actually sleep tonight.” His hand slides over to stroke your thigh. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nod, “I did. It’s rare that I do but there’s something about you.” You admit, placing your hand on his. “Well, I’ll get my clothes.” You say but his grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t go yet. I paid for the night. Stay. Have a shower.” He offers and you nod, knowing it will be hard to get home this late.

Max tucks himself away and settles back down with another report while you go into the bathroom. After a few minutes he hears the water start and then some singing. Making him pause and listen for a minute before he starts to grin. It’s off key and pitch, but enthusiastic. Making him shake his head as he looks back down.

You sing in the shower, cleaning off until you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “I, uh, I don’t really have anything to wear.” You tell him as you glance at your tiny dress and he nods, standing up and making his way over to his closet to open it and take a white shirt out. “Here you go.” He says and you drop the towel, shrugging on his shirt and buttoning it up. “Thank you.” You wink at him and make your way over to the champagne bucket to pour another glass for each of you.

There something about having you here. Just your presence is nice, different from the austere penthouse. He’s not lonely. You turn the tv back to another older show and bring both of the glasses over to where he is sitting and plop down beside him.

You giggle as you watch the show while he looks over his reports again until you are closing your eyes in exhaustion. "Sleep." Max orders, jerking his chin towards the bedroom. You nod, stumbling into the bedroom and Max pulls the covers over you as you settle into the ridiculously soft bed. Max doesn't get in beside you, he closes the door and gets back to his reports, deciding to shower after you're asleep. You huff as the wig you've been wearing all night - even in the shower- digs into you so you grab it from your head and toss it on the chair, pulling off the hair net to let your hair free. You sigh as you settle back in and are soon passed out in a place you never expected to sleep.

It’s after two in the morning when Max decides to go to bed. Showering and then changing into fresh boxers, he stops when he sees you laying in the bed. The short blonde wig was obvious just that, but your natural hair is beautiful. You look so serene, sleeping on your stomach facing the empty side of the bed. As if you are waiting on him. He smiles softly as he climbs in beside you and turns to watch you sleep until his own eyes close.

When you wake up, the sunlight is shining through the curtains and you get up to pee and use some of his toothpaste to freshen your breath. Your hair is a mess but you try to fix it as you walk out into the living area in his shirt. "Hi." You say to Max as he is sitting at the table with his back to you.

He turns to look at you and nods, "good morning." You run your hands along your sides and bite your lip, "I, uh, wig." You point at your hair and Max smiles softly, "I like it." Your heart thumps at that but you push it aside, "I can get my clothes and go." You say but Max shakes his head, "come sit down. Have some breakfast. I, uh, I didn't know what you like so I got one of everything." He lifts the silver lids up and your eyes widen. "Wow. Thanks." You reach out to pick up a croissant and he picks up his reports. "So Max. You aren't a lawyer...what exactly is it you do?"

“Merger and acquisitions.” Max tells you, folding his newspaper over and smirking at you. “I make money.”

“Right. That explains everything.” You snort sarcastically. “So you’re smart, huh?” You ask and he looks at you. “I didn’t finish eleventh grade.” You confess, “how much school did you do?” You ask him and he tilts his head, “I went all the way.” Your eyebrows raise but you’re not really shocked. He seems smart. “Wow. Good for you. So what are you in town working on now?” You ask and he sighs, “I’m working on acquiring a company for a billion dollars and -”

You choke at hearing the figure. “One - one billion?” You ask and he nods. “Oh God. That’s - you really are smart. So you get the company and then what?” You ask, ever curious.

“I buy it and then break it apart. Sell off the assets for more money than I bought the company for.” He explains, “I wasn’t this successful when I got started. Had a lot of fuck ups but I have learned along the way.”

You gesture to the suite, “clearly.” He stands up, “I’m going to get ready.” He says and you watch him go and change into his suit. He comes out ten minutes later in a bespoke suit but he’s struggling with his tie. You walk over to him to help and soon perfect a Windsor knot. “How do you know how to do this?” He inquires, his dark eyes on yours.

You smirk, “I screwed the whole debate team.” He chuckles and you wink at him. “My grandpa was a sweet man and he’d go to church so I’d help him with his tie.” You tell him the truth and he nods, reaching behind you to grab his briefcase. “Can I have a bath before I leave?” Max nods and you smile, kissing his cheek before you disappear into the bathroom and the phone rings.

It’s Max’s assistant, informing him that the owners of the company have invited him to some functions while he is in town. Frowning, he remembers that he cannot show up to these functions without a date, he had told James Morse that he had been in a relationship and Jessica had broken up with him because he was always working. To be fair, he had just spent a month away dismantling another company and hadn’t seen her in nearly forty-five days. The singing in the bathroom had started up again, this time it sounds like you are skinning a cat and he grins, telling his secretary to accept the invitations on his behalf and a date. Hanging up, he walks into the bathroom to find you have drawn a bubble bath and have headphones on as you screech along. Chuckling, he stands next to the tub and waits for you to notice him.

You continue singing until you open one eye and see Max perched on the edge of the tub. You throw the headphones for the walkman on the side and internally groan in embarrassment. "Mr. Lord." You greet him, trying to act cool, "Don't you just love Prince?" You grin and he shakes his head.

"More than life itself." You shake your head, "don't you knock?"

Max sighs and says your name, "I have a business proposition for you." You ask him what he wants. "I am going to be in town until Sunday and I'd like you to spend the week with me."

You grin, unable to believe your luck. "Why? You're a rich man. Handsome. You could have anyone... for free." You add and he shakes his head, "I want a professional. I don't want romantic entanglements." You chew the inside of your cheek for a second, "as much as I'd love to be your beck and call girl, it's gonna cost you." You hum and he leans closer, "How much?"

You tap your chin, "six-night, the days too...$4000."

His eyebrows raise, "at $300 a night, it's $1800." He tells you and you shrug, "days too." He sighs, "$2000."

You shake your head, "$3000." Max nods, "deal." Your eyes widen and you can't help but sink under the bubbles, unable to believe your luck.

Max smirks as he watches you do a little dance under the water and then immediately come back up. “Yes! Yes.” You gasp out, wiping the soapy bubbles from your face. “I’m your girl.”

He chuckles. “Good, now, I’m going to need you to go get a cocktail dress. Something nice. These are important people and I want you to look the part.” He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a money clip, peeling crisp hundred dollar bills off until he feels like you have enough, about $1200 dollars and holds it out to you.

Your eyes widen as you stare in shock at the money in your hands. "What do you want me to get?" You ask, climbing out of the bath and following him as he rushes through the penthouse, getting his jacket and briefcase.

"Classy. Not too sexy. Elegant." He says and you roll your eyes, "boring then." He nods, walking over to the door, "go shopping. Have fun." You nod and watch him go, the door shutting behind him and you rush into the bedroom, squealing in delight at your luck.

Eventually you calm down and call Kit, giving her the good news. You ask her where to go shopping and she says, "one place in Beverly Hills...Rodeo Drive." You tell her you're leaving the rent money at the desk and you get ready, making your way downstairs to leave the money and you head over to Rodeo Drive.

The boutique that you walk into is obviously expensive and the workers there are immediately suspicious of you. “Oh my god.” Cordelia whispers to her co-worker. “A prostitute just walked into our store, can you believe it?” She purses her lips and continues to go through the clothes on the rack even though you are asking for help.

You ask her about the clothes on the mannequin, at a complete loss of what to do in a store like this. “How much is this?” You ask and she lightly scoffs under her breath.

“It’s very expensive.” She says, “I don’t think it would fit.”

You huff, “I didn’t ask if it would fit, I asked how much.”

She sighs, looking at her colleague, “I don’t think we have anything in here that would work for you.” She says and your stomach drops. You feel sick. You swallow back the tears and rush out of the store. Making your way back into the hotel, you get accosted by the manager, asking you who you’re here to see. “Maxwell Lord.” You tell him and his eyes widen, looking at the bellboy who confirms you are staying in the penthouse.

“Come this way.” He says, escorting you to his office. “This isn’t your usual hotel, Miss. This is the Beverly Wiltshire. This is a fine establishment and we don’t have women like you staying here.” You nod, feeling reprimanded but you won’t be defeated, not with $3000 on the line. “Mr. Lord, however, is a valued customer and he spends a lot of money here. We can overlook your…occupation for his sake. If anyone asks, you’re his niece. Understood?” He says, eyes burning into you and you nod.

“Yes sir.” The manager nods, “now, Mr. Lord has a reservation at our restaurant tonight and I’d assume you’re attending with him. Do you have anything else to wear?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I went to Rodeo and they were so rude. They treated me like trash. I- I don’t have anything else.” You pull out the money Max had given you. “I have all this money and no dress.”

The manager nods, picking up his phone. “Women’s department, Bridget please.” He asks and waits for a brief moment. “Ah yes, Marie. I have a situation that would benefit from your expertise. I need someone to bring over a black cocktail dress for one of our guests for dinner with her uncle. Yes, black heels. A clutch. Also, send one of your girls for hair and makeup.” He says before he puts down the phone. You’re astonished and he claps his hands. “Now, let’s get you to the room and they will be here soon for you to get ready for dinner.” You nod, letting him escort you through the hotel and back to your room.

A knock on the door comes soon enough and a primly dress woman in a pencil skirt and a silk white blouse is at the door. “Hello!” She smiles brightly at you, her expression never changing when she sees your provocative dress. “My name’s Bridget.” She holds out her hand and you shake it.

“Yeah, hi. Barney said you’d be nice to me.”

Bridget blushes slightly at the mention of the hotel manager. “He’s very sweet.” You hum and she moves on. “What are your plans while you are in town?” You cross your arms over your chest nervously. “I’m gonna have dinner.”

She nods. “Then you need a cocktail dress. I’ve pulled a section of dresses that will be perfect. I’m sure that you’ll find something that your uncle will love.” There is a rack in the hall that is loaded down with dresses and she moves to bring it inside. Correctly guessing your size, she asks you to confirm it. Your eyes widen in amazement. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

Bridget smiles. “Well, that’s my job.” She replies easily, having to accurately guess women’s sizes all day long.

“Bridge?” You bite your lip. “He’s not really my uncle.” You confess.

“They never are, dear.” She assures you.

****

You tap your fingers on the bar in the lounge as you wait for Max, he’s late. You would order a drink but you’re terrified to do something wrong at dinner. To mess up the cutlery order that Mr. Thompson had so willingly taught you. You don’t notice Max enter the lounge until he’s nearly leaving again. You turn your head to look at him just as he meets your eyes and you smile, hoping he likes your new outfit.

Max is astonished. The transformation is nearly unbelievable. You look every inch the sophisticated woman with your cocktail dress, your hair and makeup styled elegantly. He smiles slightly, unable to believe that he gets to escort such a beautiful woman to dinner, despite it being a business transaction. Watching as you gather your clutch and walk over to meet him. “You’re late.” You tease and he is quick to reply.

“You’re stunning.” He means it, but you giggle slightly.

“You’re forgiven.

Max hums and turns to offer his arm like a gentleman. “Shall we go to dinner?”

****

“Mr. Morse. It’s great to meet you.” Max greets the older man, “great to meet you. This is my grandson. He’s a fireball. David.” He gestures to the younger man who seems embarrassed by his grandfather. Max introduces you as his friend and you shake both men’s hands. The chair is pulled out for you and you move to sit down until you decide to stand again. All three men stand and Max asks where you’re going.

“I’m going to the ladies room.” You tell him and he tells you where to go.

“Shall I order for you?” He asks and you immediately respond, “yeah” until you remember yourself. “Yes. Please do so.” You correct yourself and walk off to the bathroom.

Max can see every man’s eyes at the table on you. Proud of the choice he had made in bringing you here. “She’s charming, isn’t she?” He asks before the three of them order. When you come back, the first course is being served and David is talking to Max. “Mr. Lord, my grandfather believes the men who create a company should control its destiny.” You look down at the plate and then lean over towards Max.

“Where’s the salad?” You ask quietly.

Max turns his attention to you. “The salad comes at the end of the meal.”

You stare at the forks, trying to count the tines and the elder Morse leans in, “I never know which one to use.” He chuckles and you follow his lead when he picks up the toast with pâté. The next course is snails. “Escargot.” Max explains, “they’re a delicacy. Try them.”

You look at the tongs and frown, trying to figure it out until one flings across the room and the waiter catches it. “Slippery little suckers.” You joke “Happens all the time.” He tells you and you fluster.

The sorbet is next and the conversation heats up between the men. Max reveals that his father died recently and you bite your lip. You watch Max as he clenches his jaw, clearly used to getting what he wants but so is the younger Morse who stands up and leaves, followed by his grandfather. You look at Max who huffs, deciding to pour another glass of wine. Back in the hotel, you decide to admire the view and sit on the balcony. Max joins you a few moments later, rid of his jacket and tie. “I’m sorry about your dad.” You murmur and he sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“He died last month.” He tells you and you want to comfort him, to make him feel better. Something you haven’t felt in so long. “Haven’t talked to him in fourteen years.” He reveals, staring down at the whiskey in his hand. He hadn’t even attended the funeral, never wished to. He had meant what he said when he said that he never wanted to see the old bastard again.

You give him a small ‘oh’ and are silent for a minute. “We could just veg out.” You suggest and Max frowns as he looks up at you in confusion. “Sit around and watch tv.” You explain with a grin. “Lay like broccoli.” He snorts and shakes his head before drowning the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back.” He tells you, setting the glass down and walking to the penthouse door quietly.

You huff as he leaves and decide to veg out by yourself. You rub your eyes as the movie ends, Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant kissing and you glance over at the clock. It’s three in the morning. “Where the hell is he?” You mumble, standing up and wrapping the robe around yourself. You ask the bellboy where Max is and he escorts you through the lobby to the event room. The sounds of the piano echo through the room and a few men are listening him. You’re in awe. You walk over to him when he finishes, clapping softly. “I didn’t know you could play.” You say like you haven’t only known him for two days. “I don’t play in front of people I know.” He explains and you rub his shoulders.

“You should.” You murmur, leaning down to kiss his neck. His hand finds yours on his shoulder and he guides you around so you’re between his legs.

“Can you give us the room, fellas?” He asks and the men soon vacate the room. Your eyes meet his as his hands grab your waist, caressing it and your breath hitches at the way he looks at you.

There’s something about you. It’s thrilling and comforting all at the same time. He pushes you up, your ass hitting the keys and he doesn’t smirk like he normally would. Fingers reaching for your robe, and he slowly unties it to pull past and see what you are wearing under it. “Eyes on me.”

You fix your eyes on him, unable to disobey, and he runs his hands up your body, admiring the black silk you're wearing. He grabs your ass and lifts you up onto the top of the piano, your feet hitting the keys as he stands to settle between your legs. His lips seem to gravitate towards yours and you turn your head at the last second, knowing it's not a good idea to kiss him. You're already too involved. His lips find your neck and you whimper when he pushes the nightie up your body, exposing your panties. His nose runs along your stomach, pressing kisses on the skin, teasing you. "Max." You plead softly, needing to feel more.

“I’m going to eat you out.” He decides. “Right here in the lounge of the hotel.” He’s hard and throbbing, but right now, he wants to take you apart. Leaning down even more, his nose presses to your panties and he inhales your intoxicating scent. “When was the last time a man feasted on your cunt?”

You gasp at the way he presses his nose just against your clit. “A long time ago. Clients - they don’t - they don’t do that.” You admit, most just want to get straight to fucking you. It’s not romantic or drawn out. Usually they cum in less than a dozen thrusts and you take your money and go. He hooks his fingers in your panties, “I want to taste you.” He says and you whimper when he drags your underwear down and your ass hits the lacquer of the piano.

His ex-wife had bemoaned his oral skills, claiming that all the talent in his tongue was left in the board room. Not matter how many hours he had spent between her thighs, it was never right and he had eventually given up. However, he wants to see what you think of him. More than that, he just wants to give. Give you things that you haven’t had lately. Forget everything but the way you taste and sound. His fingers pull apart your lips and he groans at the sight of your clit before he leans forward and laps at it with his tongue.

God his tongue feels so good. You moan when he flicks your clit and his mouth covers you. His tongue sliding down to push inside of you and you pant, “Max.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his air, intoxicated by him already.

He doesn’t think about what he is doing, just focusing on the way that you sound. Groaning into your flesh and squeezing your hips as he drags you closer to taste you more deeply.

It’s scandalous. Him eating you out on a piano in the middle of a hotel lounge and you moan as he takes his time. Most of the time, men only do this to make sure you’re wet enough but Max seems so eager to make you cum. You moan his name as he laps at you and you don’t know how he’s so good at this and unable to get a girlfriend. You moan again, lifting your leg onto his calf as he sucks on your clit. “Oh fuck.” You cry, getting so close already.

Your skin is so soft, fingers digging into the supple areas that he can grab. Dark eyes on your blissed out face as he drags you closer to the edge. Pulling away from your clit to run a figure eight around it with his tongue, he rasps out “cum” before he sucks it back into his mouth to pull on harshly.

You can’t deny him. Fuck, you can’t deny him anything. You moan his name as you rock your hips up towards his mouth and you fall apart on his tongue. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You cry out as you cum on his face.

It’s the best dessert that he’s ever had, tangy and thick when he moves his tongue down to lap up the fruits of his labor while you shake apart for him.

You pant as you look up at the ornate ceiling of the hotel. The intricate decor almost blurs as you stare at it and you run through fingers through his hair until you’re pushing him away when it becomes too much. “Fuck baby. So good.” You murmur, “there’s a condom in my robe if you want to.” You say, unsure if he wants to fuck you here or go upstairs.

He too worked up to take you upstairs. Digging into your robe to grab the condom, he surges to his feet and fumbles with his belt as he rushes to sink into you.

You sit up on your elbows as he rolls the condom down his length and you moan when he notches himself at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. “Fuck Max.” You moan, reaching for his hand when he pushes deep inside of you.

He moans your name quietly, his thighs bumping the keeps as he tries to get as deep as he possibly can. “Warp your legs around me,” he begs quietly. “Hold onto me.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around him and you shift to sit up, gripping his shoulders the new angle makes you gasp as he starts to move inside of you. “Oh God.” You pant as he curves just right inside of you like this. “Fuck me.” You demand, leaning down to kiss along his neck. Biting down on his ear lobe, “feel so big inside of me.” You murmur, meaning every word.

Max groans, aware that you probably tell every guy you’re with that, but he pretends you mean it. You’re kissing along his next and squeezing his cock with your tight little cunt, making him forget everything as he rocks into you. “Fuck.” He hisses softly. “So beautiful, so tight around me.” He praises.

You rock your hips up to meet his, your hands caressing his back as he pushes deep inside of you. “Fuck baby. Max. Feel so good.” You moan as your nails lightly scratch his back. “Want you to feel good after you made me feel so good.”

Max shudders, aware that anyone could walk in and watch him fucking you, but he doesn’t care. Or maybe it’s that he wishes they would. That they would see that he’s pleasuring such a beautiful woman. “You do, you do.” He pants out. “Feels so good.”

You keep him close, your legs wrapped around him as he pushes deep, slow but precise. “Max. God, that - that’s it.” You pant and he reaches down to rub your clit. You’re so close. Still worked up from your previous orgasm, it doesn’t take you long until you’re clamping down on his cock. Your cry echoing in the empty function room covered in gilded gold.

“That’s it, cum for me.” He hisses, loving the unrestrained way you cry out for him. Letting anyone nearby know that he is making you feel good. His throats turn sloppy, pace faltering as he starts to chase his own release. Groaning your name as he slaps his hips against your once more and presses deep, his body shaking as he empties himself into the condom.

You watch him as he cums, loving how tight his body gets. Jaw clenched and eyes fluttering shut as you get a glimpse into the one and only moment Maxwell Lord relaxes. “That’s it baby. So good.” You murmur, caressing his upper back as you continue to watch him.

When he pulls out of you carefully, his hands are pulling your robe closed so no one could see you even before he's slipping off the condom. Tying it in a knot and tossing it in a trashcan near the piano, he offers you his hand to help you down. "We should sleep." He murmurs, seeing how tired you are after your orgasm.

You nod, letting Max help you off of the piano with shaking legs and you’re soon back in the room. The same as the night before, you get ready for bed and he goes off to review a report, leaving you to fall asleep alone.

****

The next morning, you come out of the room to find Max reading the newspaper. “Good morning.” You greet him, leaning in to kiss his cheek and he hums a good morning to you. “What’s the plan for today?” You ask and he smiles at you, “shopping.” You groan, “no. I- I went yesterday and they were so mean to me.”

Max frowns and folds over his paper, “mean to you? What do you mean?” He demands, his frown deepening even more as you explain and he shakes his head. “Get dressed.” He decides. “I’m coming with you.”

****

He doesn’t let you pull your hand out of his. Dressed in your outfit you wore the night you met, your heels from last night and one of his dress shirts, you look sexy. The limo driver drops you off on Rodeo drive, he chooses one of the most expensive looking boutiques to walk into.

“Hello, how may we-“ the worker starts her spiel but Max just cuts her off.

“We are looking to spend an obscene amount of money.” He declares. “Very obscene. So we are looking to be sucked up to.” He smirks as he looks over at you and winks as he pulls out his Amex card and hands it to you. The one that has no limit.

“How obscene sir?” The manager asks greedily and Max smirks, “very. Make sure she gets what she wants.” He gestures over to you as you stand admiring the dresses shown to you. Max comes over and takes your hand, “I have a meeting to go to but I’ll see you later.” He says, kissing the back of your hand. You want to pout but instead you nod, letting him go. When he leaves, you try on more clothes than you’ve ever owned, pick out lingerie and nighties. You stare at the man holding a pair of shoes and you see his tie. “Max would love that.” You point to it and the a manager snaps his fingers, “your tie.” He demands and the man takes his tie off to hand it to you.

You leave the store dressed to the nines and you carry the bags as you make your way back to the store you went in the day before. “Hi, you refused to help me yesterday.” You say to the woman and she frowns until her eyes widen. “You work on commission?” You ask her and she nods. You hold up your bags, “big mistake. Big. Huge.” You tell them before you leave with a massive smirk on your face, unable to believe how on top of the world you feel as you make your way back to the hotel.

Max opens the door to the suite, briefcase in hand and expecting to find you opening dozens of boxes and bags from your shopping excursion. Instead, he finds you sitting at the table, wearing nothing but a tie and your heels. He smirks, setting down the case on the table and stepping closer to you. “That’s a nice tie.” He muses, admiring the way it sits between your tits.

You smirk at him as he walks in and freezes and you slowly uncross your legs, spreading them so he can see your cunt. “I got it for you today.” You coo, reaching down to squeeze your breast. “Thought it would look good on you.” You wink at him and slide your hand lower until you’re rubbing your clit, showing him how wet you are for him.

“Looks…expensive.” He banters and you shoot him a smirk.

“All yours for the low, low price of three thousand dollars.” You tease, reminding him and yourself of how much money he is paying you to stay with him. “Yes, a very expensive tie.” He strides forward and wraps his hand around the silk pinstripe tie, the back of his knuckles dragging over your breasts. “I think it might be my new favorite.”

You smirk up at him, “yeah? Maybe you can wear it tomorrow…after I’m done with it. Might have to take it off though if you want to fuck me hard…maybe fuck my ass?” You ask, biting your lip as you think of the lube you got from the pharmacy on the way back from shopping.

His eyes widen and he glances down at your beautiful cunt and then back at your face. “You want that?” He asks hoarsely, cock twitching. “I’ve never- no one has, um, wanted that. So I don’t know what you would want to get ready for me.”

You giggle at the way he seems flustered. Unused to seeing him like this when you know he’s so stoic in his business. You bite your lip as you lower your leg from the table and stand up to walk over to him. “I have lube. I have thought about this all afternoon so I have, uh, fingered myself open for you. Just need your gorgeous fingers to make sure I’m ready for you and then I have lube so you can fuck me. Want you to experience it with me.” You murmur, caressing his cheek as you stand naked before him bar the tie.

“On your back or your stomach?” He asks, cupping your tits immediately and squeezing them. “What is comfortable for you? What do you like? How did you imagine me fucking you?”

“On my back. I want to watch you.” You tell him as he pinches your nipples and you gasp out his name. “I want to watch your first time doing this.” You say and you pull a condom out from the flap at the back of the tie. “You ready, Mr. Lord?” You smirk, knowing you’ll be wet from him fucking you like this.

“Bedroom.” Max growls out, snatching the condom out of your hand and resisting the urge to grab the tie to drag you closer for a kiss. Reminding himself that he cannot kiss you, it was your one stipulation. He’s eager to experience this, to show you that he can learn new things. “Get your lube.”

You grab the bottle of lube from the side and you rush into the bedroom, loving how animalistic he is. You fling the tie off and throw it down on the chair as you lay down on the bed. “Get undressed Max.” You order, wanting to watch him strip out of his suit.

Max obeys your order, watching you as he starts to strip his suit off. Your greedy eyes make him feel desirable, wanted. It seems like you truly want him. He unpins his cuffs and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. "Touch yourself." He orders. "Show me how you prepared yourself for me today."

You spread your legs, laying down to lift your ass into the air a little and you slide your fingers through your wet folds, gathering your arousal before you slide them lower to gently push into your ass, showing him how you’ve opened yourself up as you begin to work your fingers in and out.

“Oh fuck.” Max groans, eyes fixed on your ass as you start to finger yourself. “I should have been here for this.” He shrugs out of his shirt and works his belt open. “I would have jerked off.”

You moan at the thought, “you were busy working. Didn’t want to disturb you. You told me to never answer the phone and I assume that means making calls too.” You tell him and he pushes his pants down along with his briefs to expose his hard cock. “God, baby. Your cock is so gorgeous.” You murmur, “want your fingers first. Work me open a little more.” You say and reach for the lube you threw down on the bed.

“I can work you open more.” He promises, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it as he kneels on the bed. “Don’t want to hurt you. Want you to feel good. Can you cum from having your ass fucked, or is my pretty girl gonna rub her little clit while I fuck you?”

You whimper, “need to rub my clit to cum.” You tell him and he nods, shifting to kneel on the bed and he pulls your fingers from inside of you. “Lube baby.” He orders and you grab the bottle, squirting some onto his fingers so he can replace your digits with his own. When he does, your head tilts back at the stretch and you moan his name.

You’re gorgeous as he stretches you out on his fingers. Pushing deep inside a hole he had never expected to be in. Scissoring his fingers to work you more as you start to grind down on him, “you like that? Does it feel good?” He asks after long minutes working his fingers inside you.

“Feels good baby. Want you to feel good.” You murmur as he scissors his fingers to open you up and you watch him as he pumps his cock with his other hand. “Fuck me. Need you inside of me.” You demand as you reach for the lube.

Max pulls his finger out of you and rips open the condom with his teeth. Rolling it down his length and groaning when you smear the condom with the lube generously. “I hope you’re ready.” He hisses, “position me.”

You pant as you reach down to position him, heart pounding as he starts to push in and you watch his face as he pushes in. You’re intoxicated by the look of awe on his face as he pushes into you, slow but precise. “Feel good?” You ask him, wanting to enjoy this.

“Tighter.” He groans, unable to believe how your ring of muscles is squeezing his cock. He checks with you, “how- is it good? Slower? Faster? How do you enjoy it?” He doesn’t just want this to be for him. You are supposed to enjoy yourself too, at least that’s what he wants.

You close your eyes for a second before you open them. “Slow at first then you can speed up. I will enjoy it because it’s you, baby.” You promise, reaching up to caress his forearms as he starts to slowly rock into you. You want to see him wrecked from enjoying this new experience. You’re happy to give it to him.

“You’re so fucking incredible.” He groans as he starts to pull back. Keeping your words in mind as he keeps the pace slow. Enjoying the way your body quivers and tenses under him. “Rub your clit for me.” He orders, remembering how you said you needed to in order to cum. “Want you to cum too.”

You nod, reaching down to rub your clit as he starts to move inside of you. “That’s it baby. Move a little faster. Need you to fuck me like you want. That’s what I want.” You tell him with a moan, your hands caressing his.

He groans, picking up the pace slightly as he watches you rub your clit. It’s so interesting watching himself fuck your ass. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing and yet you are moaning and clearly enjoying yourself.

You moan as he rocks into you, pushing deeper and stretching you out. “So good baby. Oh God, so good.” You whimper as you rub your clit a little faster. “Keep going, Max. I’m gonna cum from it.” You tell him breathlessly.

He twitches inside you, gasping when you clamp down on him again and his next thrust isn’t as patient as the others. It’s more feral, unrestrained but then the next thrust is more like the others.

It’s your turn to gasp as he becomes more confident and pushes deep into you on the next thrust. “Yessss Max.” You moan, frantically rubbing your clit as he pushes into you again and again. You’re so close. The look on his face has your heart pounding and a couple of thrusts later, you’re clamping down around nothing as you squeeze him inside of your ass.

“Fuck, fuck!” Max hisses, unable to control himself as you start to cum. His thrusts turn frantic and he pushes deep as you squeeze him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He cries out, feeling the pull in his groin and seconds later, he’s filling the condom with a moan of your name.

You watch him in rapture, loving the look on his face as he cums, filling the condom up. “God, that’s it baby.” You caress his arms as he leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, not wanting to break your rule despite really wanting to kiss him. “Good?” You ask him, wanting to know if he enjoyed it as much as you did.

Max nuzzles your cheek and kisses it softly. “Amazing.” He whispers softly, wishing he could kiss you. “Thank you.” He grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you gently. “Do you want to take a bath?”

You nod, needing to relax your muscles. It doesn’t take long for you to be wrapped around him in a bath, you grab the sponge to wash his chest and you kiss his neck. “What’s on for tomorrow?” You ask and he hums, caressing your arms, “polo match.” You nod, “I’ve never been to polo. What do I wear?” You ask,

“A nice day dress.” He hums. “Something flowy, a big hat to keep the sun off you.” You nod eagerly. “I have just the thing. It’s a cute dress with white polka dots, but it doesn’t have sleeves, is that okay?”

Max shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

****

The next day, you and Max arrive at the polo grounds and you are immediately nervous and feel out of the place. Max seems to be in his element mixing with the upper crust and he leaves you with two sisters, going off to see his attorney. “So you’re the flavor of the week.” They giggle and you smirk, “oh no. I’m just using him for sex.” You stride off to find Max.

“Who is this girl? Where did she come from?” Max’s attorney is a nervous sort, who sees corporate spies behind every door.

“Phil, don’t worry about it, she’s not a spy.” He assures him, but the man is about to stroke out because you’ve found David Morse, or the man found you, and you’re petting his polo pony.

“See?” He hisses, grabbing Max’s arm.

“Tell me she’s not a spy!” Max sighs, knowing he can trust his lawyer of nearly fifteen years. “She’s a hooker.” He tells the man in confidence. Phil looks skeptical, but Max nods. “Picked her up on the Boulevard the night that you loaned me the car.” He huffs. “Think Morse has spies turning tricks? There’s nothing to worry about.” Your laughter catches his attention and he looks over to find you laughing with the horse nipping at your palm and he smiles, thinking you look beautiful. “Excuse me.”

Max comes over to you as you say goodbye to David and he wraps his arm around you and you watch as the upper crust go out to pat down the holes on the field as is tradition according to the announcer. You take the glass of champagne Max offers you until he tells you he wants to talk to someone and leaves you on your own. His attorney, Phil, approaches you, his wife off talking to the others, and Phil chuckles. “You know, you dress up nice.” He says and you turn to look at him, “thanks.” He reaches up to gently run his finger down your arm, “yeah. You clean up nice compared to what you must wear on the boulevard.” Your jaw drops slightly and you turn to look at him. “Maybe I’ll have to come and find you when Max is done with you.” He winks and walks off and you clench your jaw, biting back a retort. When Max comes over, you’re silent and you remain silent until you get back to the hotel.

****

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asks when you storm into the room, straight to the bedroom where you begin to gather the clothes he bought for you.

“You. Telling Phil that I’m a prostitute. He - he said you told him and I- I just thought you wouldn’t be telling everyone there what I am to you.” You spit, zipping up the garment bag.

Max huffs, pissed off at Phil for telling you. “He thought you were a corporate spy.” He snorts, still amused by that. “Was talking about running a background check on you. And you talking to David Morse didn’t help.” He hates that a thread of jealousy had ripped through him when you had been talking to the other handsome guy, annoyed that you might be more interested in him than Max.

“I just - I thought - I thought we would discuss what you told people before you announced to everyone that I’m a hooker.” You huff as you grab your things.

“You are a hooker.” Max says and your heart breaks. You thought you were- well, never mind.

You swallow the lump in your throat and you say, “I want to leave. Now.” You grab your purse and Max nods, grabbing his pocket book to throw the money down on the bed. You swallow harshly as he walks out the room and you don’t want his money. You storm through the hotel suite to the doors and you walk away from him, waiting for the elevator.

Max looks back into the bedroom and sees that you’ve left all the money on the bed, his heart aching at the thought of you leaving. His shoes are still off but he walks out of the suite and down the hall to where you are waiting for the elevator car. Pausing for a second when you won’t look at him. “I’m sorry that I told Phil.” He apologizes. “Will you please come back inside?”

You stare at the golden doors, clothes folded over your arms. They open a few seconds later with the bellboy standing there. “Please?” Max asks, his dark eyes wide as he stares at you pleadingly. You bite your lips as you look at him until you sigh, nodding. “Sorry.” You tell the bellboy and you step back towards Max.

He’s relieved that you are willing to come back to the room and he takes your bag and the clothes out of your arms to carry them for you. Biting his lip as he brings them back into the bedroom and the money is still on the bed.

You set the clothes down and your purse, crossing your arms as you wait for him to say something. “You didn’t take the money.” He says and you shake your head, “I don’t want it.” You confess, “it’s - it’s changed. This situation has changed.” You confess and he nods. You step closer to him, “are you…you think I should stay?”

“I do.” He confesses, reaching out and touching your shoulder. “I didn’t like it when you were talking to Morse.” He continues on. You look at him strangely, “we were just talking.” You remind him. “I didn’t like it.” He repeats, feeling almost possessive of you. Sure, he has purchased your time and use of your body, but he also wants your interest, your thoughts.

You turn towards him, cupping his cheek as he admits his jealousy. “Baby. I’m yours. Until I leave.” You tease, leaning in to kiss his chin. “But that won’t be tonight. I want…I want you to show me that you’re sorry.” You smirk, pushing down on his shoulders, “make me cum.” You smile at him as you work on the zipper of your dress, wanting to feel his tongue again.

****

In bed, you turn to face Max and he softly asks you how you ended up in L.A. You sigh, “I followed a boyfriend over here. He - he was a bum. I have always dated bums. One cheated on me. One went to jail. This one…I followed to L.A and he dumped me for some other girl. I refused to go home with my tail between my legs so I got whatever job I could. Even valeted cars for a bit. Then I couldn’t pay my rent. I met Kit and she told me how much she made…how easy it is. I- I decided to do it. No one plans on becoming a hooker but - I cried. The first time. I cried the entire time.” You confess, shifting a little closer to him.

Max frowns, his heart hurting for you, how you must have felt. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly, feeling compelled to tell you his story as well. “My ex constantly told me I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t make enough money or I wasn’t a good enough lover.” He snorts. “She paraded lovers through our home and tried to convince me it was my fault.”

“She was an idiot.” You scoff, reaching out to caress his chest. “You’re handsome. You’re funny. You’re smart as hell. You’re rich as fuck. Why would she say you’re not good enough? Pfft. She’s a goddamn fool.” You scoff and Max snorts, pulling you close but not saying a word. His heart thumping in his chest as he holds you close.

****

“What are we doing today?” You ask Max as you walk into the living room in your robe. He looks up from his reports. “Tonight, we are going to the opera.” Your eyes widen, “the opera?” He nods and you are nervous at the thought. “How am I going to understand anything they sing?” You ask and he smiles at you, “it transcends words. Languages.” You nod, “guess I better get another dress.”

****

Max adjusts his cufflinks as you exit the bedroom, wearing the red dress that you can barely breathe in but it’s worth it. It’s gorgeous and you’ve never felt so beautiful. “You like it?” You ask Max, wanting his approval.

“Hmmm.” Max shakes his head slightly. “It’s missing something.” He decides and pulls out a large jewelry box out of his jacket. He had stopped and picked it up on the way back to the hotel. “Now…” he opens it and snaps it back shut before you can see inside. “This is on loan. You can’t keep this.”

Your eyes widen and you giggle when he snaps the lid shut on your hand and you gasp when you see the necklace again. “Max…oh my God.” You are in awe of the jewelry and you look at it.

“Let’s get it on you.” Max says and you let him escort you over to the mirror. He fastens it on your neck and you touch it, “how much is this?” You ask and your eyes widen when he says a quarter of a million. “A quarter mil?” You gasp and he nods, “on loan.” You giggle and reach for your clutch as Max escorts you through the hotel where everyone looks at you in awe. “Everyone’s staring.” You murmur.

“Of course they are.” Max huffs, proud to have you on his arm. You are gorgeous and look fucking amazing in your dress. “Good evening, Mr. Lord.” The limo driver nods as he opens the door once you are out of the hotel. “The pilot is ready to take off as soon as you arrive.” Max smiles as he helps you into the car. “Good.”

Your eyes widen once more and you lean into his side, unable to say much as you are driven to a small airport and right up to a private jet. “Max?” You gasp as he escorts you up the steps and onto the plane. You didn’t know that this kind of life was real but it is and you’re in awe of the luxury Max lives in.

“I didn’t tell you?” He asks playfully as he guides you towards a seat and he nods when the stewardess asks if you would like champagne before take off. “The opera is in San Francisco.”

You grin, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is this my life?” You ask Max and he chuckles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

****

When you arrive at the opera house, Max ushers you to your seats which happens to be a balcony. “You said you don’t like heights?” You ask him as you sit down in your seats. “I don’t.” Max says and you lean in closer, “then why did you get these?”

He chuckles, “because they are the best.” You playfully roll your eyes and he winks at you just as the opera is about to start. You grab the binoculars and try to figure them out. You flip them until Max chuckles and puts them the right way. “Thank you.” You smile and the music begins.

Max looks over at you during the first act and you are completely enthralled. Eyes fixed on the stage and you are twisting your program in your lap as you watch. He finds it almost more entertaining than the opera. Reaching for your hand, he picks it up and kisses the back of it as tears slip down your cheeks from the beauty of the story is conveyed through the emotion of the performance.

The opera ends and you swallow back the lump in your throat as you wipe your tears away. It was beautiful and moving and you’ve never been to anything like it. “Max.” You sigh when you get back to the hotel after a quiet flight back to L.A. “God, Max. That was incredible.” You sigh as you step out of your heels. “Thank you for taking me.” You tell him, reaching up to remove his tie.

Max smiles at you. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, even though he knows you did. Happy that he could give you this experience, he reaches out and touches the loaned necklace. “Remove your dress, but leave the necklace on.”

You smirk, shaking your head at him. “Let’s play chess.” You say, wanting to keep him on his feet even if he’s paying for you. You grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and move over to the table where the chess board is c waiting for Max. “Come play with me.” You demand as Max watches you. He nods and comes over after removing his jacket and tie. “Take tomorrow off.” You say after he’s won a game and you’re on the next.

“What would I do?” He asks with a frown, knowing that he’s come to L.A. to work. To make this deal happen and make a lot of money.

You reach out to rub your foot against his ankle. “Nothing. Anything. Relax.” You tell him, knowing he takes no time to himself. “You could explore the city. Have lunch. Have sex.” You wink, wanting him to have a day to himself when all he does is work.

He purses his lips, about to tease you and remind you that you turned him down, but the idea is intriguing. “We’ll go on a picnic.” He decides. “I’ve not been on one in so long.”

“Let’s do that then.” You grin and stand up, slowly moving around the table to straddle him in his seat. “And for now…I want to show you how much I enjoyed the opera.” You lean in to kiss his neck and his hands find your waist, sliding up to unzip your dress. “Fuck me with this necklace on before we return it.” You murmur into his neck as you bite his ear.

****

You adjust your skirt as Max finishes getting dressed and after he’s ready, you take his hand as he guides you out of the hotel and into Beverly Hills where there’s nothing planned for once in Max’s life.

The two of you manage to find a deli who is willing to put together a picnic basket for the handsome sum Max slipped him. The charming wicker basket hangs from his hand and he feels lighter than he has in a long time. When you reach the park, you take off the stylish flats you are wearing and grin at him. “Take off your shoes.”

He snorts and looks down at the Italian loafers. “What?”

“Take off your shoes.” You tell him and he stares at you for a second before he follows your order. You lay out the blanket and you sit down as you grab the basket to open it. You eat and watch the people pass by until Max pulls a book out of his pocket. “Shakespeare?” You ask in curiosity.

“Of course.” Max huffs playfully, as if everyone should carry Shakespeare in their pocket. “What else would we read while drinking wine and laying in the grass?”

You giggle and listen to Max as he reads a sonnet, your head on his chest. Later that day, you go to a small diner and sit and eat at the bar, laughing at Max as he tells a story from his high school days. When you return to the hotel, you tell Max you’re going to go get ready for bed. You change into one of the silky nightgowns that Max bought you and you adjust your hair as you make your way back out into the bedroom. Max is leaning against the headboard, his eyes shut as he finally sleeps. You shift quietly to sit next to him, smiling. “He sleeps.” You murmur, leaning in to gently kiss his cheek, turning your head slightly to kiss his lips. You break your rule to give him a piece of yourself without him knowing you’ve broken your rule.

The next morning, Max apologizes to you about having to leave so early, rushing out of the hotel suite before you can even have breakfast together. He has a meeting with Mr. Morse that the rest of the board doesn’t know about, not even his lawyer. Wanting to talk to the old man one on one. Or with David too, but without the sharks to smell blood in the water.

You gather your things, packing your bag, and you wait for Max to return from his meeting. The doorbell rings and you answer the door, eyes widening when you see Max’s lawyer, Phil. “How are you?” You ask him and he storms in. You shut the door behind you and you watch him as he practically pulls his hair out, walking over to the bar to pour himself a scotch.

“How am I? I wish I knew. I used to know. Just like I used to know how Max was. But now, I think he’s with you.” He tells you, taking a sip of the scotch and staring at you. Max had completely undone all of his hard work, ruined his chances for making a boatload off this deal and it’s all because of you.

“Max will be back soon. Any minute he’ll be home.” You tell Phil who scoffs, “home? This isn’t your home. This is a hotel room and you aren’t the little woman. You’re a hooker.” Your stomach twists and you swallow down the urge to slap him and decide to sit down on the sofa instead. Phil follows, sitting down beside you, and he sets down the empty glass on the coffee table until he places his hand on your bare thigh.

“So how much is it? You must be good to have Max all tangled up. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that pussy.” Phil says as he slides his hand up higher and you gasp, grabbing his wrist to push him away. He growls and pounces on you, pushing you back into the sofa and you scream, trying to get out from under him. Phil reacts, slapping you across the face to get you to shut up but you scream out again, putting up a fight.

Max had been in a good mood as he let himself into the suite. Ready to tell you about the deal he had struck with Morse. He wasn’t going to dismantle the company anymore, he was going to invest and make sure that Morse enterprises build the ships they wanted to. When he sees Phil on top of you and you struggling, something snaps in him and he rushes over to drag the man off of you, spinning him around and punching him in the mouth. “What is the matter with you!”

“She’s a whore, man.” Phil growls and Max shakes his head, about to punch the man again. Max throws his briefcase down the hall "this is bullshit. Bullshit. I gave you ten years of my life!" Phil cries, throwing up his hands.

Max shakes his head again. “This is such bullshit. It's the kill you love not me. Get out of here. Get out!" He demands and Phil stumbles down the hall as Max slams the door. You sit on the sofa, nursing your sore cheek and Max immediately rushes to get you some ice. You hiss when he presses it to your cheek, covered in the napkin, and he looks ready to kill. “Are you okay?” He asks, despite knowing you’re not.

“I’m fine. I- I gotta go.” You choke out, knowing this moment just solidified your leaving.

“Don’t go.” Max murmurs, “come with me to New York.”

You shake your head, “I can’t go with you. It’s - it’s always going to be someone. Some guy who finds out what I am and wants something from me. You can’t beat everyone up.” You reach out to caress his cheek, wanting to cry but you remain strong.

“Stay here then. Stay and I’ll get you a condo. You can have a card to spend whatever you want if you see me when I come back here.”

You shake your head again. “That’s a mighty fine offer for a girl like me but I can’t take it. I want…I want more than just the castle. I want the prince. I want the fairytale.” You confess, eyes burning into his.

He nods and stands up, helping you up and you gather your things again. “Stay with me. One night. One more night. Not because I’m paying you but because I want you to.” He pleads softly and you sigh, “I can’t.”

You watch him as he takes the money and places it in your hand along with his card, stamped with gold. You lean in to kiss his cheek, “you have a lot of special gifts.”

Max chuckles, “my special gift is complicated relationships.” You smirk, reaching for his hand before you make your way to the elevator. Max watches you go and somehow you make it down to the lobby. You find Barney and tell him you’ve come to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything.” You murmur and lean in to kiss his cheek.

He smiles at you, “you’re welcome back whenever you wish, goodbye.” He reaches for your hand to kiss the back of it. “The hotel limo will take you wherever you wish to go.” He says and you nod, “stay cool.” You wink and make your way out of the hotel, knowing you’ll never return.

Max walks through the suite, touching the surfaces that you had touched. The table where he had you for breakfast instead of food. The bathtub you had laid in together. He already misses you. He can’t let you go. Picking up the telephone, he’s connected to the front desk. “Yes, Mr. Lord?” The voice on the other end says.

He bites his lip. “I need the limo and a dozen roses.” He orders.

You arrive back at your apartment and see Kit, telling her your decision to go to San Francisco to start again, to finish school. You pack your things, including your new clothes, and hand Kit some cash before she leaves because she says she can’t handle goodbyes. Your bus leaves soon and you’re about to go when you hear a horn honking. You go out on your rickety fire escape and you see the hotel limo approach, Max hanging out of the roof window and your eyes widen. Opera plays from the car and Max jumps out when the car stops. You lean over as he contemplates what to do when he looks up at the high fire escape and you giggle when he puts the flower stems into his mouth so he can climb up the stairs. “Don’t-” You don’t get to protest as he rushes up and you decide to meet him halfway, chest heaving as you face him. He comes to you, handing you the flowers. “Max?” You gasp and he stands before you.

“I can’t let you go. I - it’s more than this week. You- you’ve crawled under my skin. Into my heart. I don’t want to let you go, I want you to be mine.” He declares and your heart clenches.

“I love you Max.” You murmur, stepping closer to him and you cup his cheeks.

“So what happens after a prince climbs up the tower to rescue the princess?” He asks you breathlessly.

“She rescues him right back.” You grin and lean in to press your lips to his. He groans and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and you melt into the kiss. You never imagined you’d be meeting the man you love by walking the boulevard. You thought you’d be down on your luck forever until a handsome man pulled up in a Lotus Esprit to change your life forever.

#pedro pascal #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord fanfic #max lord ww1984

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wwinterwitch · 2 years ago

Text

new vows – din djarin x gn!reader

summary: the first time din ever removed his helmet in front of you

pairing: din djarin x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 2.5k

warnings and tags: fluff and angst + good ending, insecure!din, established relationship, kissing, the helmet's removed, doesn't follow the plot of the show at all (it's just din, reader and grogu being a happy family)

author's note: oof i hate how this turned out but my best friend read it and told me to post it so here we are, i hope it doesn't suck as much as i think it does

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

navigation | pedro's characters masterlist | star wars masterlist

Din was observing you and Grogu from the entrance of the Razor Crest, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned against one of the walls of the ship. He smiles to himself when he hears the child giggling after you put a flower at the top of his little head, immediately reaching out with some difficulty to grab a flower from the ground and offering it to you.

"Thank you, Grogu. It's very pretty!" you say to the baby, who looked absolutely thrilled to realize you liked his gift.

The kid stands from the ground, lifting both of his arms as a sign that he wants to be carried. Already familiar with the gesture, you quickly lift him up from the ground before laying on your back in the middle of the landscape filled with lilac and light pink flowers. The baby giggles again, holding onto you as you both lay there.

Din's smile fades just enough shortly after that when the inevitable thought pops in his head again. That annoying and sudden thought that always makes an appearance during the day.

At first he didn't mind, finding ways to always push it away before it got to him. However, it's been more and more frequent these past couple of days and it's becoming a bad habit he seems unable to control at this point, and it's starting to really annoy him.

His mind is filled with all these doubts and insecurities. Not only because of the content of what he's thinking, but because it's completely impossible to push it away now. Almost like an avalanche, it falls down the mountain at a rapid, devastating speed and it only seems to get bigger as minutes pass. It destroys everything in its way. In this case, the prime and only victim is Din.

Perhaps the worst part is that it always ruins what should be pleasant moments. If Grogu is looking up at him from the ground begging to be carried, the thought is there. Whenever you wrap your arms around him or grab his hand when the two of you are exploring yet a new planet, it's there. Even when he's trying to sleep right next to you, hearing the faint sounds of the baby already asleep, you can bet that thought will be there to torture him.

Because all of those little moments he shares with his partner and son remind him of the fact that neither of them even know who he is. Sure, they know how he is, but not who.

Every touch is not really a touch, it's just skin brushing against a uniform. Every exchange has a helmet hiding his features. They can hear him laugh, but they don't see his eyes squinting just enough and the smile that adorns his face. They can hear him remind them of his never-ending love for them, but they don't get to look into his eyes as he says it.

And it hurts because his mind has tricked him to believe none of those moments are real. Because they've never seen the man that claims to care for them so much, none of it is genuine. It's just touching a uniform and hearing empty words coming from a helmet. It almost makes him feel like a droid rather than a human, leaving him longing for that real connection.

He knows he probably shouldn't, but he craves that actual contact, which is something he never felt before you two showed up in his life.

Being a Mandalorian and living by their code was easy. He never even considered breaking his vow because nothing and no one was ever worth it. What could possibly be more important than this? That's what he would always ask himself and he wasn't able to come up with an answer– until you and Grogu showed up.

Now that you two are here, it's obvious to him that his priorities have changed. He wants to commit to an entirely new code. To prove his undying fidelity to his family and make a vow to the two of you.

But that brings another set of insecurities that make this entire situation a lot more difficult for him. As much as he needs to truly feel connected to you, he's terrified of what that connection means. It's obvious that in order to obtain that, he needs to take off his uniform. Most precisely, his helmet– which is something he has never done in front of anyone. Ever.

So that's when his mind is yet again filled with negative thoughts. What if you don't like what's under the helmet? What if you already have a picture of him in your head and he disappoints you because he looks nothing like it? What if you suddenly don't love him anymore because he's not what you expected at all? And what if Grogu rejects him too? He couldn't deal with either of you not liking what has been hiding underneath all the Beskar.

That's the complicated mess that's been haunting him for a few weeks. That inner struggle he has tried to keep hidden from the two of you. Should the helmet stay on despite being an obstacle to reach the depths of connection he needs to have with his family, or should he remove it and risk rejection? Is it better to settle or search for more?

He feels pathetic. The supposedly fearless bounty hunter is terrified of even thinking about taking a risk. Going on adventures used to be a lifestyle. Now, the mere idea of it is enough to fill his mind with self-doubt, making it almost impossible for him to make a decision.

He thought about it later that day when the three of you were already inside the Razor Crest and getting ready to go to bed, really considering his options and trying to create different outcomes to this hypothetical conversation that kept playing inside his head.

You were telling Grogu a bedtime story when Din joined the two of you. He sat on the bed and listened to you speak as he watched the baby, who was struggling to keep his eyes open at that point, holding onto the little blanket covering his body.

By the time the story was over, Grogu was already completely asleep. You carefully brushed his face with your pointer finger in an affectionate manner, smiling down at him before focusing on Din.

"Ready to go to bed?" you asked.

"You'll tell me a bedtime story too?"

The comment made you laugh. "I think you're a little old for bedtime stories."

"Ouch. I'm not old."

"I said a little old," you quickly correct, putting both of your hands on his shoulders. He quickly lifted a hand that was resting on your hip a few seconds later. "Not the same as just old."

You smile down at him as he gently caresses you from your hip all the way down your thigh before his gloved fingers trails back up. Your smile inevitably takes him to the dark corners of his mind again because he knows you won't be able to see him smiling back at you.

His next words came out very impulsively. "Can we talk?"

Evidently, you were a little concerned after hearing that given the tone he used. "Is there something wrong?"

"I've just been thinking a lot lately...there's something that's been bothering me and it won't leave my head."

"Okay..." you said, trying to be receptive to what he was saying but still having no idea of what's going on.

"Neither of you know what I look like," he decides to simply confess. Why would he try to over explain something that is actually quite easy to say? "And I've never...you know, actually touched you," he adds, his helmet titling towards his hand still resting on your hip, hinting at the glove covering it.

"I mean, yes...but that's because you're a Mandalorian. It's what your people do, right?"

Din nods after your words. "It's part of our code, but...I don't know. It's been bothering me because lately this entire uniform feels like an obstacle. I still feel like it's a part of me but...it also stands in between us."

"I've told you how I feel about the suit," you quickly say in a soft, reassuring voice. "I don't mind it one bit."

"I know, I know. This isn't because of something you did or said," Din explains. "I guess my priorities have changed."

"You mean...?"

"I mean, I care more about connecting with you than with my traditions. I've started to question things I never took a second to consider before you and Grogu showed up. I want to be able to touch you– really touch you. And I want to look at you and talk to you. Not through a visor and a modulator," he further explains, feeling like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. "I don't need to be a Mandalorian when I'm with you two. I just need to be Din."

"Oh, darling," you start affectionately, feeling so incredibly in love with the man sitting in front of you. "Whatever it is that you want and need, I'll support you no matter what. Helmet or no helmet, you're still the guy I fell in love with."

"Really?" he asks with evident worry.

"Of course," you immediately reassure him.

"I guess it took me too long to talk about this because...well, I didn't know if you'd like what's underneath the uniform."

"Din," you call in a very serious voice, hoping that'll hint just how much you mean your next words. "I love you so much. I love you because you're the kindest man I've ever met. You're loyal, passionate, brave...and you care so much about me and Grogu. I could stay here and mention a trillion things about you that make me fall in love with you every single day. You're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with and nothing in this world is ever going to change what I feel."

He was quiet for what felt like forever, simply staring up at you while you held the helmet in between your hands so you could stare directly at his visor where his eyes should be.

"You can't see it but I'm smiling, by the way. This is a good silence," he offers, which immediately makes you laugh.

"Is it okay if I take it off and see that smile for myself?"

He hesitated before answering. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

"I promise I won't change my mind."

There was another pause before he finally answered. "Okay..."

You start to remove his helmet in a gentle, slow manner. If he wanted to stop you, he could at any second. You really didn't want to rush it because you still wanted to give him a chance to back down if he wanted to.

The fact that he wears the helmet all day in front of you has never been an issue. You fell in love with the person he is, whatever he looks like couldn't possibly matter any less to you. That love is not going anywhere. Ever.

It looks like Din is confident in his decision because he doesn't stop you at any point. He continues to keep one of his hands attached to your hip and the other rests on his lap for a few seconds until he uses it to help you completely remove his helmet.

Still holding it with both of your hands, you look down to admire his face. You can tell by his expression that he's terrified as he stares back at you, impatient for any hint of rejection. He was still expecting to see the disappointment all across your features before you take a step back from him and reveal he's nothing like what you expected.

But that disappointment never appeared. Instead, he's relieved to see the smile forming on your face before you leave the helmet next to him on the bed, immediately reaching out to grab his face.

Din practically melts under your touch, closing his eyes and focusing on just how good it feels to have your skin touching him for the very first time. The way your soft fingers trace his cheeks before they move down to his jaw...it feels like absolute heaven.

And you take your time with that. Your digits explote his features as if contemplating them wasn't enough. You needed to touch every inch of his face in order to truly appreciate what's in front of you.

The most beautiful sight ever. The man you love so much, looking even more handsome than you could've ever predicted. From his soft brown eyes to the hint of a beard, he's so perfect you can't believe you're seriously this lucky.

"So?" he dares to ask. Hearing his voice without the modulator for the very first time almost made you feel goosebumps all over your body. How is this man so pretty?

You could've just said that. You could've stood there and told him over and over how pretty he is, but it didn't feel like it was enough. No words would ever begin to explain the admiration you have for this man, even before you knew what he looked like.

After feeling his skin for the very first time, you could only crave more. It was probably that inefficiency of words and the need for more contact that made you lean down and kiss him for the very first time.

He kissed you back instantly, the grip on your hip tightening just enough as he completely gave in to you.

It was evident you were his first kiss, but that detail couldn't be any more insignificant right now. His lack of experience didn't bother you. All you could think about is how lucky and happy you are to have him as your partner.

The kiss lasted for a few more seconds before you pulled away, failing to hide your smile when you saw his face. It was evident he was already missing the way your lips feel against his.

You stare at him again for a bit, caressing his flushed cheeks, before you finally decide to speak. "Does that answer your question?" Din was still too lost in his thoughts to reply out loud, so he simply nodded. His reaction after your first kiss made you giggle, and you swore right there that you've never felt happier in your life. "Good. I'd like to kiss you again if that's okay."

Another nod, this time looking more desperate, was all you needed to kiss him again. You got more comfortable as you sat on his lap, knowing you'll be there kissing him for a bit, feeling his arms wrap around your lower back to keep you close as soon as you sat down.

And as he holds you in his arms, he knows he made the right choice, silently vowing to be yours for as long as you allow him to.

#din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin #the mandalorian x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars x reader #mandalorian fic #pedro pascal characters

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caxyanalysis · 4 months ago

Text

Thinking about how Homelander is actually so fucking tragic.

Raised to be the symbol of patriotism. Won the superpower lottery. Durable enough that a nuclear bomb wouldn't kill him, fast enough that nothing can outpace him, full freedom from gravity because of flight, laser vision that he can control the strength of to such a fine degree that he could cook popcorn or cauterize your brain in half and it's not even hard for him to do.

All of this, together, make him a god among men.

And it's so.

Fucking.

Boring.

And it's tragic, too.

It is.

I know, I know, "he's a fascist!!!" I get it, and you're right.

But look at what he's been through.

He was raised in a lab. No parents besides the scientists that studied him to figure out what he could and couldn't survive, what would and wouldn't hurt him, what he was capable of and how he could be useful.

At every turn, he was denied human connection in any meaningful way. His father was never in the picture, his mother was dead, he existed solely as a test subject, and as soon as he was old enough to be on TV, they wheeled him out like a shiny new toy and said "Look! It's the embodiment of America! The peak of human evolution!"

He has never, EVER known anything except two concepts: Fear and Blind Adoration.

The people who love him don't love HIM, they love the idea he represents. The people who know him fear him with all they have.

Spoilers for The Boys below

He finally meets someone who doesn't fear him, and claims to love him, and it's Stillwell. She doesn't fear him. But he doesn't realize the reason she doesn't fear him is because she thinks she has him under control. A little mommy-play here, a little milk there, and he's docile. She thinks she has him in her pocket.

But then she slips up. And out comes the truth. She's never loved him. Ever. She has always, always hated him, always been afraid of him. And suddenly all those happy memories of the only mother-figure he's ever known are tainted, ruined by the idea that she would have rather had him be dead than ever touch her, but she did what she felt she had to do so he would be a good boy.

And he doesn't understand. He was a good boy, wasn't he? His heart was in the right place, wasn't it? He only did what he thought would make her happy, and he tried to be have his best when she asked, didn't he? So why did she hate him so much? Why was she so afraid of him?

And it tears him up inside. It destroys him. He feels hurt, and angry, and scared, and it burns him up until that heat has nowhere to go but out.

And he kills her. And it kills him.

It's with Stillwell's death we see him truly change. He stops being the boy scout, in his own eyes. He just killed someone who meant everything to him. He killed someone he thought genuinely cared about him, saw him as good, and loved.

We watch him die right alongside her, and in that moment he performs one last act of kindness as he loses the final shred of hope in his heart: he saves Billy Butcher and makes sure that Stillwell's baby survives as well.

We see another kick in the head when he visits his "creator", the man in charge of the Homelander experiment that gave birth to him. And this man says he is nothing but a failure. A living embodiment of all that man did wrong, and all that man failed to achieve. He says that Homelander is nothing but one big failed experiment, and is his greatest regret in life.

Flash ahead. He's unchained, mostly. Edgar is still in control of him, but Edgar doesn't care enough to tug the leash. He expects Homelander to tie his own chain, and if he doesn't, then Edgar will yank it and choke the bastard for all he's worth until he sits, heels, like a good little attack dog.

And for the most part this works. Homelander stays under Edgar's radar, his descent hardly noticed, because he doesn't do anything that Vaught can track that he wouldn't have done before Stillwell's death.

All the while, mourning the loss of the only person to ever even pretend to care about him.

And then we meet Ryan, and realize who he is.

And when Homelander learns he has a son, we see something special, something that, until now, didn't seem possible.

We see the light come back into his eyes.

We see him start to hope again.

A son. The perfect opportunity to do better, to prove he is, in fact, a good man. If he can just do right by Ryan, if he can raise him right, be a good dad to him, show him the love, and compassion, and care that he never knew, then Ryan could grow up happy. Well-adjusted. We see that Homelander fully recognizes how broken and mangled a man he is.

Homelander wants Ryan to turn out better than him. He wants Ryan to turn out happier than him.

And we watch Stormfront ruin that pure, beautiful desire.

Stormfront corrupts him. He's vulnerable, he's weak-minded, after Stillwell. He knows what he wants, but he doesn't know how to do it or why, he knows what he desires, but he can't have it. And then Stormfront gives it to him. A supe who can not only take what he can dish out, but give it back just as well. A supe who sees him as good. A supe who seems to love him, truly.

She doesn't.

She, like all of his fans, loves WHAT he is, loves the IDEA of him, not Homelander himself.

He's blond, blue-eyed, white, and an omnipotent powerhouse.

And Stormfront is a nazi. How could she not love what he is and what he represents?

She manipulates him, turns him against his own idea of wanting to be good and convinces him that this brattiness, this pettiness, this immature need to be better than everyone is not a flaw, it's his birthright.

And Ryan is the product of that birthright. Ryan does not need to be better than Homelander, Ryan needs to learn from Homelander, learn to rule, to subjugate, because Homelander is a God, one who should rule the Earth, and Ryan is his Prince, destined to take over one day.

All of this is instilled into Homelander through Stormfront's manipulations. And on the one day every year that he's allowed to be treated like a person, the one day every year he gets a taste of humanity...

She does the one thing that would guarantee her lies stick like glue.

She dies.

She rips away the last person he ever thought he would have to live without, on the one day he never expected to be hurt on.

And we see that light, the one Ryan reignited, flicker.

He gets angry. He gets bitter. He realizes that, aside from Ryan, he is entirely peerless. Alone.

And Ryan must be nurtured, yes? Guided, right? Stormfront wanted the world for Ryan, and Homelander wants the best for his son, and so the world is exactly what Ryan will get. Homelander no longer cares about himself. He doesn't.

Homelander cannot be selfish past this point; he could drop dead then and there and as long as Ryan has the world in his palm, Homelander would die happy.

But he can't die. He won't die. Ryan needs him. Ryan deserves a father. Ryan deserves Homelander's life, his attention, his dedication.

And we see spots of vanity, yes. The preening, the pruning of grey hairs, the bitterness over his noticeable aging.

But these are not the same as selfishness. These are things integral to Homelander. He's supposed to be a God. God's don't age, why is he aging? It's so disgustingly human. That's what he thinks.

But it gives him a sense of urgency. He doesn't know how long he has. A year? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Two hundred? More? Nobody knows, with supes. Some don't age at all, others age too fast, others age slowly, and Homelander is already a one-in-a-million fluke. Who's to say he won't suddenly age fifty years in the span of the next ten? Who's to say he'll ever age beyond what he is now?

He doesn't know. And he can't control it. He can't fight it. He can't change it. He has to prepare for the possibility he hates most.

He has to prepare for his death.

But then he learns who his father is. He learns that his father is alive, even. Soldier Boy, the idea that inspired Homelander. And he has to meet the man, has to introduce Ryan to his grandfather. We see that light in his eyes grow, because now he doesn't just have a son, he has a father.

The father he needed.

And when he finally meets him, finally gets face-to-face with the man who could so easily give him everything he ever wanted, the man who could fix him, show him what it means to be a parent...

He's rejected.

Soldier Boy tells him that he's pathetic, that he's nothing, that he's hardly even a man. Even the suit Homelander is so proud of isn't free from insult, with Soldier Boy saying "Look at you...You're wearing a goddamn cape..."

He has nothing but disappointment for what Homelander is, and resentment for the way Homelander was raised, but sees him as too far gone, too broken, too weak to fix. The only cure is death.

And once again, we see that light flicker.

He needs to be better than this man, DO better than this man.

And that means securing Ryan's place atop the world. This is why he calls in Sister Sage. Sister Sage is so incredibly intelligent, so beautifully smart, she can guarantee things he would never even figure out are possible. And, begrudgingly, he accepts her help.

But her help isn't giving him what he really wants most, because while putting Ryan atop the pyramid is his end goal, he wants Ryan's love just as badly. He wants to see the fruits of his efforts, to know that what he's doing is good and right, that it's best for Ryan.

And Ryan is showing him, at every turn, that it's not right.

Homelander kills for Ryan, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Homelander makes Ryan the object of public adoration, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Homelander is glad Billy's dying, and Ryan doesn't like it.

Everything Homelander does for Ryan, every effort he makes, is torn apart by the fact that Ryan doesn't want any of it. He wants a dad, not a coach, he wants a parent, not an instructor.

He wants a life, not godhood.

And Homelander has been so corrupted, so broken, so destroyed by every single person in his life that he cannot understand that.

To him, godhood and life are one and the same. Being alive is not a right, in his eyes, it is something that is deserved, earned, a reward, and he is the man to impress, he is the man to earn it from, and one day that man will be Ryan, and why can't Ryan see any of that?

None of this is in defense of Homelander. But I can't see one side of anything without seeing every other side of it.

And in Homelander's mind, he has done everything he can to be loved, to be appreciated, to be known and cared about...

And every single time, his power has caused people to hate him, to fear him. The only love he's ever known is that of the public and that of his son, and with every outburst, every conflict of interests, he is slowly losing that more and more.

And every time Ryan runs away from him, every time Ryan cries because of him, every time Ryan frowns over something Homelander has done, every human Ryan mourns, is a slap in the face. Water on the fire.

And we see that light drain from his eyes a little more each time.

I don't believe anything Homelander has done is justified.

But I do believe that, in his shoes, with his life, under all of the same circumstances...

I believe most of us would be no different than he is.

Broken.

Betrayed.

Abused.

Lashing out at every reminder of the pains of our existence.

A scared, angry child, with the power of a god, who was never shown that a better way does exist.

A wounded animal conditioned from birth to hate humans for what they did to it.

Homelander is tragic.

And I feel so very sorry for him.

#analysis #long post #the boys #homelander

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creative-kny-fics · 8 months ago

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Hi! I'm not sure if you take requests but could you do a Ler Obanai and Ler Mitsuri and their children?

I say this because of the last image you published being a family where it would be the modern era according to me. Please (T^T)

.... Yes *internal scream*

(Artist's name in Twitter: @paperandpen_mei)

Lee: Iguro Obanai

Lers: ObaMitsu children and Mitsuri Kanroji

'Come on kids... It's time to sleep, mommy and daddy had a very hectic day and we need to rest...', Obanai yawned as he leaving his children's room. 'But dad, we're not sleepy! It's barely 10 at night, please, 5 more minutes!'

'I don't think it's a good idea... You start with "5 minutes" and then you never fall asleep! Besides, you have school tomorrow, you guys should be asleep by now...'

Obanai and his children had a little 'arrangement', one that Obanai didn't agree to, he was exhausted.

It had been a long day at the restaurant and although he longed to spend more time with his children, unfortunately he couldn't. After some pleading and puppy eyes, Obanai agreed, plus he had to help Mitsuri with the baby.

'Okay, it's been almost 10 minutes. It is time to sleep!' 'But we are not sleepy! If we keep playing we'll get tired!', Obanai sighed and smiled. 'So... If you keep playing you'll get tired, eh?'

Obanai's son nodded until he saw his father approach and hug him, it was obvious that he would also apply Mitsuri's methods to give them 'sweet dreams'. 'Nohohoho!! Dahahahahad plehasehehe!!'

'What's happening? Are we playing or not? You're not going to deny that mommy doesn't do this too~'

'Yehehehes shehehe do buhuhut-!! Ehehehehehehe!! Thihihis is chehahatihihing!!', Obanai laughed watching his little one squeal, but, he not only has a son... 'Calm down brother! We will help you!'

'Oh yeah~? Let's see if you can!'

'And done! Who is the cutest baby~? You are, you are~!', Mitsuri sang for her baby, she had not been able to sleep because of some noises.

Mitsuri knew who the creator of those noises was, so she carried her little girl until she reached her older children's room. 'So, what do we have here?'

'Daddy and we are playing! And we are winning!'

'NO, thehehey nohohohot!! Thahat's nohohot fahahihir!! Hehehehelp me!!'

Mitsuri laughed, she was trying to avoid saying "I told you so" to her husband, she knew it would end like this. 'Obi, I think they won't stop until you let go of our son hehehehe... I thought you could take care of children!'

'I cahahan!!'

'Oh really? It seems like they're giving you a little trouble~', Obanai shook his head, he could do it!

Mitsuri sighed, asking her children for permission to show them how to truly keep Obanai in line. 'Look children... Your father is not that ticklish, you should know where to squeeze or tickle him!'

'WHAT?! Wait Mitsuri don't tell them!'

'You can try to put pressure on your ribs, more precisely on the lower ribs! Ooooh and behind his knees is a good spot! And well, judging by his position... You can try his toes!'

Obanai sighed, it was the last thing he needed that night, now he would not only have his 4 children tickling him, but also Mitsuri or maybe not?

'Okay, I think we're already past bedtime, kids-! EHEHEHEHEHEHE!! WAHAHAIHIT!!' 'Ooooh mommy was right! We have you now daddy!'

'And I'm still missing~', Obanai shook his head, it was the only thing he could do after all

His children were on top of him, if he moved too much he could hurt them and that's what he never wants to do

'N-NOT NECESSARY!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! MY LOHOVEHEHE!! PLEHASEHEHE!!'

'Awwww but I'm only using one of my hands~ shall I tell you something? Your sensitivity was one of the many things I love about you~', Obanai looked away embarrassed, he didn't know if it was because of how nice what Mitsuri said had sounded or because of the meaning that said sentence had.

'What a good idea! The children are asleep now, congratulations~'

'Yehahahah... Oh gohohosh...', Mitsuri kissed her husband's cheek before going to leave the baby in her room.

After tucking his children in and turning off the lights, he followed her, he was exhausted. 'All good?'

'Yeah... I enjoyed this moment, it's been a while since we did that ahahaha...'

'And it's been a while since you indirectly mentioned that you liked tickle fights with our children~',

Obanai sighed and nodded, that little guy time made him forget for a moment about his busy day. Mitsuri approached him and hugged him, looking out of the corner of her eye at her husband's cute smile.

#demon slayer tickling #demon slayer tickle #ler!mitsuri #ler!obamitsu children #lee!iguro #obamitsu

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anamericangirl · 5 months ago

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I saw Stephen Fry say once, "If I ever met God, I'd spit at his feet. I'd curse his name. I'd tell him how dare you. I'd say how dare you let children suffer with diseases that rot their eyes from their heads."

I saw the comment section filling with people going "YEAH, FUCK YOU GOD"

And I saw one comment, buried in the middle of the sea of hatred towards God, that said "And what are you doing to help those children, Mr. Fry? You're sitting on a talk show blaming God. You're trying to push an anti-Christian agenda, nay an anti-Creationism agenda. You're using your fame, your fortune, your power, your voice, to actively curse the name of God instead of expending the same energy to help those children you claim you care about."

It was a moment very early in my religious journey from atheist to theist that really made me look at these vicious anti-God people who will blame Him for literally every problem on earth no matter how man-made that problem is.

A school shooting happens and it's God's fault that children died.

A baby is killed and it's God's fault for letting a pro-choicer get pregnant.

A war breaks out and people are being slaughtered and it's God's fault for giving people the freedom to kill each other.

And now, I look back on Stephen Fry and his "I'd spit at his feet."

What does he think God's response will be? Crying? Begging Mr. Fry for mercy? "I'm so sorry Mr. Fry, you're right, I'm so evil, I'm such a bad person, you should rule Heaven instead of me, please don't hate me, please, I'm disassociating, oh no!"

I think God would look at him and say, "All of those children, who died because people like you chose to do nothing to help them, are here with me now in Heaven, being nurtured and cared for. You spent your life and your wealth attacking my worshipers who were going to those countries and helping those children. You spent your life cursing my name with an ego so inflated that you felt as though your words would scorn and hurt me. Have you considered, Stephen, at any point in your life, that if a disease from the land is killing children, you should move the children away from that land? You should cure the disease? You should do something, anything, to aid those people, instead of spending your millions of dollars going on talk shows and flying around the world in your private jet to preach about how evil I, your creator, am for not solving all of the hardships that I gave you? The issues in your life are meant to strengthen you. When you are hurt, it is so you may inspire an impetus to fight back against that which hurt you. If I stepped in to sweep up every problem, what would life teach you? You would be complacent, lazy, and would die without ever having known hardship."

I know it's blasphemous to put words in His mouth, but, really, I think God teaches us time and time again that life is hard and that we have the tools He gave us, our freedom, our hands, our voices, to learn from those problems and do something to fix them.

Here we are 2000 years after He sent us His son, and we have machines that can do surgery, skyscrapers, planes, virtual reality, the ability to communicate across the planet, people in space stations, people going to the moon, we've accomplished so much and overcome so many obstacles. We learned to fly, we learned to breathe in space, we learned to breathe underwater, we learned to transmit our voices across the world in split seconds.

And yet Mr. Fry thinks that because children suffer and God doesn't intervene, there must be no God.

I'm sorry this took me so long to get to but I think it's such a great thought!

It always irritates me to hear people like Stephen Fry go on a pseudo-intellectual rant about how, if God exists, He's evil because children get sick and God will somehow be intimidated or humbled by Stephen Fry shaking his fist at him. When, if Stephen Fry truly believes it is evil to not stop a child from suffering when you are capable of stopping it, then he is just as evil as he accuses of God of being because Stephen Fry certainly is capable of helping more children than the average person and he is thus an evil person for spending any time not doing just that.

Who is he to curse God for not doing something that he is capable of doing and chooses not to? It is the worst kind of virtue signalling. Stephen Fry does not care about suffering children. He just wants to use them in his seriously flawed argument against God and Christianity.

It also exposes a deep ignorance of God. Stephen Fry has spent no time attempting to explore or understand Christianity or the nature of God before criticizing it, which makes all his criticisms irrelevant nonsense.

God is not evil because bad things exist, bad things exist because we created bad things by going against God. All suffering, including sickness, is a result of the fall of man. It's our fault.

And also, we are the body of the Christ. We are supposed to be helping our fellow human beings when they are suffering or in crisis. God has given us free will and let us reign over the earth and that means bad things will happen because people make bad decisions and God's not evil because he doesn't intervene and put a stop to every bad thing.

When people like Stephen Fry don't help a suffering child and we lose that child, that is sad, especially for us here on Earth. But that child ends up with God. That child is alive and happy and in a place with no pain and suffering. God is doing what Stephen Fry did not. And we just don't like it because it separates us.

And those are also the people who want to blame every bad thing that happens on God but will never give Him the credit for anything good that happens.

They try to put God in a box and say "if he was real then this wouldn't happen." They are trying to create the perimeters of what they think God should do if he were real instead of studying God and his word to determine what would actually be the case if he were real.

Those people are so fake and their criticisms stem from ignorance. I would respect them a lot more if they took the time to learn and understand what the teachings are before trying to criticize them. Instead of trying to address what the actual belief is or understand who God actually is, they create their own standards and then use them to try and debunk something that their standards don't accurately present.

#anon #answered

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 3 months ago

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lmao she ate you up

Again Stolas is an insult to real abuse victims. The show tries to make Stella into this evil harpy while excusing people who have done abuse like Loona because she gets the trauma excuse. Heck, Stolas for all claims of being a victim is actually more of a victimizer than a victim because of how he used his power to trap a guy into a coercive deal to keep his book. People say Blitzo started it when reality he was going to have him in his room and expected him to ravage him even though this was the first time they met in years. The guy has been predatory from the start and I don't care what excuses to try to make him fake sympathetic. Coercing someone into sex for a long time is not a simple mistake it's a crime but since it's hell it wouldn't be punished. Also stfu about him giving his daughter love he will regularly choose Blitzo over his daughter while having the nerve to claim he still loves her.

People claim he wants to give her a normal life while not having two minds of cheating on her mother and obnoxiously still carrying on an affair that broke the family. That is the embodiment of not caring about your daughter. Also coming out of the closet shouldn't be an excuse to hurt people. Again everyone says he's improving but those so-called improvements is still coercing people into a relationship and whining when they rebuff his advances because in the past they treated them like shit and still denies they look do on them. This is the same twit who had the nerve to say Blitzo and Striker sound the same when they told him off for being a privileged asshole he really isn't learning.

There is a difference between being a normal,flawed dad and being a neglectful, selfish asshole who puts his wants before his child. And let me tell you a child shouldn't be forced to sacrifice their stability to make their manchild of a father happy. And even worse he's doing this for a guy he forced into his fantasy and treated like trash. His so-called abuse by Stella is forced and fake. He says he did it to give her a normal life but in reality he just ended up potentially putting her in danger of a unstable mother. Also it's less of an attempt to show males can be abused but the fact that it's a way to make Stolas look artificially better so his abuses on Blitzo are excused. Also Stolas has more power over Stella than he does over him. One thing abusers tend to do is trap their victims. And let's face the fact there is nothing Stella could do to trap him. Stolas was the one who could do that to her with his privilege but he doesn't exercise it because the narrative needs to make him look like a saint compared to her for putting up with everything.

Also not being able to read the room and his microaggressions have been detrimental because it feeds into his flaws and even worse his lack of accountability for his actions. He freaking put a cigarette out on Blitzo and we just expect him to see him as not looking down on him. And again this is the guy who used his own butler as a squeeze toy and Blitzo rightfully points out how he treats his own servants. The way he treats other imps have influenced why Blitzo callled bs because his microagressions aren't actually micro when he has acted like a typical royal who has abused the lower class. And again his obliviousness to read the room has hurt his relationships because people are telling him straight to his face but he ignores them because he'd rather live in his own world where he does nothing wrong. In summary, he's a selfish asshole people are babying and pretending that he's just a traumatized, flawed man when in reality he's worse than that and acting he ain't is just whitewashing.

Also stfu about saying we hate it for no reason. We hate it because it left the og premise for a shitty love drama with an insufferable creator's pet who ends up taking away anything interesting plot and refuses to own up to his mistakes. He always is a hindrance on the story and resent him for it.

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chaifootsteps · 9 months ago

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Oh my god your ask box is open.

Ummm didja see how Viv liked fanart of Vox telling Val he's beautiful after his wings get clipped?

That author who wrote that fic of Angel being told he's beautiful paralleling with the goddamn creator liking and encouraging Val content to sympathize with him....

No hate to that artist but when you're the creator you need to have more fucking responsibility. She isn't condemning Val. She's woobifying and downplaying his actions to the point where she likes her *rapist character* being sympathetic and "beautiful" but has the gall to say Angel is a "loser".

And while I'm at it, she also like a comment about "people simp for horror characters like Patrick Bateman and Leatherface--"

Shut. Up.

Shut the fuck up.

The directors and actors condemn the actions of those killers. Christian Bale said he hates Patrick Bateman and thinks there's nothing good about him. That "sigmas" are missing the point and need to get a life.

LeatherFace is mentally challenged and doesn't understand what he's doing. He's surrounded by a psychopathic family who loves him and obviously doesn't teach him right from wrong.

Scott Cawthon punishes the fuck out of William Afton. Spring-locked painfully, tormented by the souls of the kids he's killed, crushed, burned.... his own son said that he'd burn in Hell.

I could go on and on. Also Jason Voorhees kills 2 rapists. Freddy Kruegar is burned for his crimes.

These people are so fucking stupid it hurts.

Viv coddles, woobifies, sympathizes, and downplays Valentino. The abusive rapist. Compared him to a *high school girl* for fucks sakes.

What Val does to Angel is also not over the top or goofy. It's *very real*. The abuse is very realistic and isn't unbelievable.

Alastor isn't a rapist. So stop bringing that up.

You can't control what people do with your content. But you can control what you encourage and how you view serious topics.

So much for her 3 day Threads meltdown where she screamed about caring about SA victims.

She's a rape fetishist just like Raph. Why else would she keep him around? I don't care that they have these fetishes, but stop pretending it's good SA rep.

Also Mimzy is meant to be Jewish. Rosie is a blood libel. Why are Jews in Hell? Fuck off with that "chicken" bullshit.

Fucking vile, Medrano.

And to be clear, I don't care if a portion of the fandom wants to expand on Valentino with headcanons, sit on him like a baby bird, and adopt him as their silly little rabbit. That's villains and fandom, that just is what it is.

The problem is when Viv does it, when she coddles Valentino and insists everyone else do likewise or else. Viv isn't a member of the fandom, she's the creator, and one who's made it her business to shout down and belittle every single fan who's uncomfortable with Valentino. That's a different, shameful thing, and it's absolutely disgusting.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #vivziepop fandom #viv stuff #actual blog post

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sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 1 month ago

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i wonder if u agree, but sometimes when i read old man rust x younger oc, it's weird to me picturing somebody in early/mid twenties bc, realistically, that would make the oc around his daughter's age, and i don't think rust can go for that. i say that as somebody who's 23, so i don't mean to exclude younger women or whatever. anyway, that's why i really like your oc bc she seems like an actual match for rust and not bc of age, but bc she's just the type of person i can see him falling for, i guess? like directly canonically in the series, so yeah, thank you for your work!!! but that got me wondering: when u started to write, did you have somebody in mind already and thought of how that sort of oc will work with rust, or did u ask urself what sort of person compliments rust best? sorry if this is too much trouble.

NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE i think this is acc a super interesting ask!

my opinions below the cut…

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

RIGHT so i wanna preface by saying EVERY SINGLE rust oc story ive read so far has meat to it, like the authors know their shit and they should get their due snaps and kudos

i think i read younger ofcs with like a pinch of salt in the sense that i know it’s a bit crazy — btw this is coming from someone who had a “relationship” with a much older man at the ripe age of 16 — but i think it’s still good to read

things we experience can be ugly and uncomfortable but it’s still real and a part of me appreciates like keeping it real 💀 this is going to sound a little femcel of me but let’s be honest, sex is about power and the dynamics of that power give intricacies to stories that make them interesting! rust is a man (😔) and have you ever seen that one study of like ages of women men find most attractive and it’s a consistent 20 even as men get to like 70

yeah

keeping it uncomfortably real but real nonetheless

true detective is southern gothic and what i love about southern gothic is that it doesn’t shy away from touching on the less palatable corners of human existence/nature/WHATever. do i see why a daughter woman child thing as a love interest to a middle aged man with a dead baby is off-putting? YES. do i still read things along those lines because it’s interesting? ALSO YES. because more often than not creators are self-aware and explore these topics with nuance, which i respect massively

now onto like the sort of second part of you ask, beautiful anon…

when writing The Idler Wheel, idk if i was thinking as deeply when creating an oc as i was fixated on the weirdness of rust and ocs like yearning 😭? for each other, and the fact that he felt anything at all was a massive woaaaahhh for them both. the way we experience / act on desire (not even sexual just any kind but actually maybe especially sexual) says so much about a person and i guess that’s the single point from which i branched out, and every other aspect of her came later

the reason she/oc is not like twenty is because, similar to what you said, i cannot picture 1995–2002 (around that time) rust with a youngYOUNGGGG woman becaaaause holy shit i think he’d just die, like out of sadness or hurt, i think he wouldn’t be able to look at her at all 💀

old dog rust on the other hand does not give a shit about doing what’s “right” imo if that makes sense, like he’s who he is and he feels what he feels and i think this version of rust would be much more receptive to a younger woman, even if it’s “wrong” because he literally just doesn’t care anymore

i think the only reason The Idler Wheel girl was able to sneak her way in around that time is because she’s grown and a part of his workplace and therefore she should be “safe”, no more than any of his coworkers. so he lets her in his space and he lets her bring him coffee and he lets her do him favours because she’s just like the others and he just has to tolerate her, just has to see her

but of course she’s not like his coworkers and he can’t place why he wants her so bad, only that he does, which is bad because she should be mundane and she should be nothing and yet unfortunately he wants to be her dog

does this answer your q or did i go off on a tangent

i love you anon 💕💕💕💕

#weird psychosexual longing #you know im not a pessimist #but when it comes to men #i struggle #so i understand why things would go certain ways #rust cohle #the idler wheel td #don’t want to offend anyone i love everyone ever and love everything please please #anon i can’t lie you really made me think #like bright and early (11am) you made me put my thinking cap on #and honestly i appreciate it #i never write thinking there’s anything to analyse in my writing #so maybe this is me digging for meaning #but either way thank you lots love you lots etc etc #idk what to go as for halloween and i have like three parties #rust cohle x reader

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forpiratereasons · 1 year ago

Text

i know a lot of people wanted izzy's death to be more meaningful in some way - that if he had to go, that he go out protecting ed, or even stede, or sacrificing himself for the crew. i guess i just want to throw my two cents in and say i loved it, that it wasn't like that. it was kind of stupid, kind of senseless. death is senseless. we so rarely get to see the whole fucking senselessness of it in media in a character we care about.

this one gets pretty personal so i'm gonna put it under a cut

my gran died at the end of july, super out of the blue, and it just didn't make any fucking sense. she was doing so good. the night before, she'd stayed up late, laughing and playing cards and eating blueberries with my mom. and then the next morning she dozed off after breakfast and just. never woke up again. and it was so hard that we didn't see it coming. when my mom called to tell me all i could say was what? what? what? it didn't make any sense, what she was saying. senseless. meaningless. one day there, one day gone.

i work in the legal system, and we see that senselessness a lot. a guy driving his car in the wrong place, wrong time, hit by a drunk driver, gone forever. a neighbor stepping out onto their porch while a fight is going on, someone draws a gun, gone forever. a friend steps between two strangers arguing, steps right into a knife he never saw, gone forever. a child getting a hold of dad's gun, gone forever. an addict chases a high, the dose is off or there's something else in it, gone forever. a dad getting frustrated with the baby, gone forever. a teenager thinking he could make it across the tracks before the train, gone forever. tomorrow i'm going into work to run a med mal case. the surgery went wrong. the nurses didn't notice the signs. gone forever. firearms discharge accidentally. an argument devolves into a fight. a deal goes bad. someone is stronger. faster. drunk. high. negligent. reckless. my work is a fucking parade of people who did nothing to deserve death and everything to deserve more, and yet. and yet.

they forgot to disarm ricky banes. izzy happened to be standing right behind him. gone forever.

that senselessness makes sense to me. i guess it mattered to me to see that play out on screen because that's what i see in real life. that ache is the ache i see in people's eyes when they file into court. in my mom's eyes at family dinner. sure, ofmd is just a tv show, and izzy hands is just a character, but that death reflected something to me that i see every single day in so many people.

i've seen a lot of people say izzy deserved better. so did that guy and that neighbor and that stranger and that addict and that child and that baby and that teenager and my gran.

but death is not about deserving. it doesn't care what someone deserved. it comes or it doesn't. when a creator/writer kills a character, they aren't necessarily saying that character deserved it. they're saying death comes for us all, and right now it comes for this person. that they made izzy's death kind of stupid and kind of senseless reflected reality for me and made me and the death i experience every day feel really seen. the questions it leaves in its wake that you'll never know the answers to.

why is sometimes one of those questions.

you don't have to like it. that's okay. i just wanted to say - just because it wasn't for you doesn't mean it wasn't for anyone. it meant a lot to me.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands

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lehguru · 2 years ago

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COMFORT + KAISER & NESS

how kaiser and ness (separate) would comfort their s/o!!

warnings: this was a request! gender neutral reader; not proofread at all tbh + requests are open ! check pinned post for requesting rules

michael kaiser

kaiser isn't someone that is used to comforting others. his demeanor while trying to give positive affirmations might come off as quite rude and unsensitive, even if he really didn't mean to act like that. but when he is approaching his s/o to help them with something, i can see him being purposefully more cautious than he would be with any other person.

for as long as they need, kaiser would tune down his egoism and "narcisism", giving his s/o his entire focus and love. he might try to comfort them with words, but those aren't really his forte; the maximum he would be able to say without sounding like he doesn't care (simply out of not knowing what to do) is "i'm here, baby."

instead of words, i really think he would hug or make little things for his partner. if you want to cuddle, he will open his arms and let you rest your head on his chest, his hand rubbing your back or your hair, if he can. if you don't feel up to cuddling, yet you're still feeling bad, he would make you a meal so you could eat, or give you his hoodie so it would be more comfortable for you. he's all ears for anything you might need and he would make sure to let you know that is okay to ask for help if you need to.

lastly, if his partner simply want to be distracted, his confident personality would come in handy. he would start telling stories about his trainings or his crazy fans, he would also make jokes about how "i'm the best boyfriend ever, look at me!!".

alexis ness

ness is VERY good at comfort. whenever his partner came looking for comfort or he sensed they needed it, he would immediately give them their entire energy and focus; if he can't at that moment, he would make sure to leave them with something that could help them get through things alone for a little, until he can be there.

words of affirmation are definitely his speciality, the praises and comforting words he would mutter while hugging his s/o would definitely be more than enough to make anything bad go away. "i love you. you're important and so precious to everyone."

if that's not enough, he would just be there for them, his own eyes tearing up while seeing his darling in such distress. he would cling to them andpress light kisses over their faces once in a while, as a soft reminder that he is there and he will always be there.

the next day, whether his s/o is feeling better or not, he would buy them their favorite flower and write a love letter to go with it. throughout the day, he would order their favorite food, do all the house chores (he already does most of them, because he adores to do it), leave his comfiest clothes around in case his s/o wants to use them; overall, he would just make sure that they have an easy day, even if it means taking more burdens onto his shoulders.

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year ago

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I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter. I’m feeling very emotional about this one, as these 2 are my babies. This fic was the second thing I ever started writing AND my first series. I started it in November of 2021 and now I’m ending it in June of 2023. Thank you to everyone who has read it, left comments, reblogged it, talked about it off of Tumblr (I am still FLOORED that this has happened!). This is what keeps people creating. Even if you think you have nothing important to say, or if all you say is just a keyboard mash of letters, I can promise you ALL of it means the world to us. So I dedicate this fic to you, the reader. You’re the real star here and I can’t express my love enough. If you’re ever wanting more, I am always down to write one shots, drabbles, character insights, what ifs, etc for this fic (and any of my others).

Now excuse me while I go cry

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<<Chapter 17

“You look so beautiful!” Olivia gushes over you after she tucks the last braid into place, watching you stand and do a little twirl in your white dress.

“You think so? It’s not too much?”

“Too much? Girl, it’s your wedding day. You can’t be too much!”

Smiling, you smooth out your dress as you take in your reflection. You’re marrying Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie, whom you’ve been in love with since you were 19. This is real. It’s happening.

Ok, technically, in the eyes of the law, it happened a few weeks ago at a courthouse. But there’s something special about gathering in front of your close friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, and getting to repeat those vows in front of everyone. A soft knock at the door brings you out of your head and Olivia walks across the room to peak her head outside.

“Mosa, it’s the photographer. Are you ready for the first look?”

“It’s HERmosa!” Frankie’s muffled yell comes from behind the door and Olivia smirks.

One last glance in the mirror at your reflection and you nod, turning your back towards the door. You hear some shuffling as Frankie is ushered in backwards and the photographers get into place.

“Turn in 3..2..1..Turn!” Olivia says and then steps back.

You turn, your eyes finding his almost immediately, as if they were drawn there. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, fitting his form perfectly, his grandfather’s kerchief folded and poking from the pocket. But what you’re really interested in is his face, his eyes growing wider and glossier the longer he looks at you.

“Hermosa, you…you’re beautiful,” Frankie says, awestruck.

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say behind a smile.

“No, I mean I always knew but…wow.”

He walks up to you and cups your cheek, running his thumb across it as Olivia hisses something about makeup from the corner of the room. But you couldn’t care less. Frankie was here, marrying you. This is all you’ve dreamt of for well over 10 years. A tear runs down Frankie’s cheek and you wipe it away.

“Are you ok?”

He sniffs and smiles. “I’m the best I’ve felt in a long time. I just…I only wish we would’ve done this sooner.”

“We did. We got married in the courthouse, remember?”

He smiles at you. “I meant more that we never…that we stayed together since that first kiss.”

“Me too. But we can’t dwell on what-ifs. We can only think about the here-and-nows.”

Frankie tips your chin up and presses a light kiss to your lips, the clicks from the camera going crazy. You pose for photos for several minutes before Olivia ushers everyone from the room, winking at you when she says she’ll give you 10 minutes of alone time before she came to get you. The second the door closes, Frankie pushes his tongue in your mouth, pulling you as close as he can.

“I can’t mess this dress up, Frankie,” You say pouting.

“That’s ok. I can work with that.” Frankie grips your hips and spins you around, bending you over the back of the chair and clasping a hand to your mouth as he takes you, your hands desperately trying to reach behind you to pull him in closer.

15 minutes later, Olivia knocks on the door and enters hesitantly, smirking when she sees you smoothing down your dress, Frankie’s face more pink than when she had left.

“It’s time,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder and looking at Frankie pointedly. He turns to you and kisses your cheek.

“See you out there?”

“Raging sharks couldn’t keep me away.”

He kisses you once more before Olivia starts clearing her throat. When he straightens up a curl falls on his forehead and you softly push it back to where it was, feeling Frankie’s eyes on you the entire time. He opens the door and looks outside befire turning back to you.

“Your gift is here.”

“You don’t have to get me a gift, Frank-”

Santi walks through the door, dressed in a nice tux and smiling from ear to ear. You hadn’t seen him since the day he confessed his love for you and you had missed him terribly. Frankie was your best friend, but Santi was a close second and you’d hated the idea of getting married without him there.

“Santi?”

“Hey, Hermosa.”

You catch a glimpse of Frankie’s smile before he closes the door as you wrap your arms around Santi, feeling him squeeze you back just as hard. Separating a few moments later, you dab under your eyes as you try to choke back tears.

“If I smudge my makeup, Olivia may kill me.”

Santi laughs. “She’s Benny’s girl, right? She’s perfect for him.”

“She’s really great…but how are you here?”

“I uh…Frankie called me a few weeks ago and told me…well, everything. I’m sorry I was screening my calls, Hermosa. I just…I needed time.”

“I understand. But…you’re here now! Are you ok?”

“I’m doing alright, Hermosa. Actually, pretty good.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about her.”

He laughs. “I will. But uh, hey - do you need a Man of Honor? If…if that would…be ok?”

“I would love to have to as my Man of Honor! But…Benny already agreed and I don’t know how to tell him -”

Santi waves his hand. “Benny was in on this. He knows and already said it was ok with him as long as you wanted it.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait. Benny knew you were coming and he didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

You gasp. “That bitch!”

Santi laughs his hardest yet. “So…”

“Let’s go, Man of Honor.”

The next thing you know, Frankie’s kissing you, everyone whooping and cheering, Aurelia throwing more flower petals into the air as they announce “Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” The rest of the night was like a blur, between photos and eating, first dances and cake, you barely had time to sit until things started to wind down long into the night. When you tried to help clean up, Olivia literally slapped your hand away and glared at you.

“Absolutely not. Benny!” He walks over and play groans when she says she’s recruited him to help clean up. She pretends to twist his nipple when he starts to complain and he yelps, high pitched and smiling as they play fight for a few moments before he gives in, grabbing plates and stacking them to wash.

Frankie looks exhausted and he’s limping a little, so you beg him to not carry you over the threshold. “You did that when we got courthouse married.”

“Yeah but-”

“No. I’m not having you throw your hip out on our wedding day. Not from this.”

He chokes and smiles, giving in, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Alright. If you insist.” But by the time you’d made it upstairs and gotten your clothes off, both of you were too exhausted to do much of anything aside from a shower and literally fall into bed. But Frankie made up for lost time the next morning, waking you with what he claims was already your third orgasm of the day, his curls mussed up from being buried between your legs. He presses his body to yours, swallowing your whimpers before he adds his own, hips shaking with release.

You spend your honeymoon at the Miller family cabin upstate, the only clothing you wear being one of Frankie’s shirts and sometimes his hat, which drives him wild. He celebrates another sobriety milestone while there, smiling wide at your praise. When you get back home, you can see he has an extra pep in his step, always a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, always wanting to touch you, whether a hand to your wrist, a touch to your lower back, or a smack on your ass, chuckling as you yelp and smack him back. When you ask him why he looks exceptionally happy, he credits you. “I finally got the girl of my dreams, the love of my life.”

—-

Frankie and you settle into a comfortable routine. You were no strangers to living together, the adjustment taking no time at all. Life goes on as normal, except now, you get to live it with Frankie, no longer separated by a stupid argument, misconceptions, or a bitch of an ex wife. This was exactly where you were meant to be.

Several months later, Frankie follows you into the family restroom at Target, slinging your purse over his shoulder as he rifles through the bag of stuff you’d just purchased.

“Pink dye first, right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

“Yeah. They’re more accurate supposedly.”

Frankie tears open the box and studies the directions, as if he hadn’t done this several times already. He opens one of the sticks and hands it to you, turning around to give you a little privacy.

“Start the timer,” you say as you zip up your pants. Frankie hits go on his timer and turns to face you, a pregnancy stick held face down in your hand. He can see your nerves, your worry and concern on your face.

“It’ll be ok, Hermosa.”

“Yeah I know. But what if it isn’t?”

“It will be-”

“We’ve been trying for months, Frankie. I know the OB said to try for a year before fertility testing but-”

Frankie walks up to you and pulls you to him, applying a gentle pressure as he hugs you close, kissing the side of your head. “If it’s negative, then we keep trying, ok? It hasn’t been a year yet and sometimes these things take time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will told me that it took them months to conceive Liam. And they were trying too. Just…breathe. In….out…”

You breathe with him for a few breaths. “You always were annoyingly calm in a crisis.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t help to freak out behind the joystick.”

You open your mouth to reply, but his timer cuts you off. Your mouth jams shut, nerves taking over your body as Frankie holds your gaze.

“If it says negative, we can keep trying. Remember that. I love you no matter what, Hermosa.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You flip the test over and look, 2 bright pink lines staring back at you. Tears immediately fall as you laugh, turning the test around to show Frankie, who yells, grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly. He kisses you for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I fucking love you, Hermosa.”

“I love you, Frankie.”

He yanks the door open and whoops loudly, people turning to look at him as you follow him out of the bathroom.

“I’m going to be a father again!” He pumps his fists in the air, smiling from ear to ear as people cheer, clapping and congratulating you as they finish their purchases, one older couple handing you a gift card on their way out, telling you to spoil that baby.

—-

Frankie was hesitant at first with your pregnancy, despite being so supportive and actually wanting a child with you. A couple months in, you finally ask him why he seems afraid to touch you, that you won’t break. He finally confesses to you that when Elizabeth was pregnant, she did nothing but yell at him, belittling him and wouldn’t let him touch her at all, not her belly, not even to rub her back or feet. She called him horrible names and would blame it on the hormones. Your heart breaks for him and you have no words. Well, you have words but they aren’t nice ones. Instead, you sit next to him on the bed, leaning back onto one arm, and take his hand with the other, gently placing it on your lower belly. His eyes light up as he looks at your tiny for the moment bump, tears welling in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to take the other side. He pulls your shirt up just enough to see your belly skin, giving it a tiny kiss.

“Hey, little one. You grow strong in there and don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

From then on, Frankie is all in. Whatever you need, he gets it, even if it’s a ridiculous request at 3am. He’s constantly touching your growing belly, talking to it as much as you do. He finds Aurelia’s old crib in the attic, a few boxes of baby stuff and a bassinet up there as well. He sets up the nursery under your instruction, letting Aurelia help with the decorations when she comes on the weekends. You decide to wait to find out the sex of the baby, thinking it would be something fun to do. So instead you call it “Bean”.

“Think Bean will like this?” Frankie asks, pointing to a baby swing.

“They might, but Frankie, that swing is nearly $150. We can’t afford that.”

His shoulder’s slump but he agrees. “Maybe we can check the thrift shop. It’s the one thing Will didn’t toss our way.”

He was there for all of the classes too, birthing ones, breathing ones, even the hypnobirthing ones. He signed up for a “birthing partners” class, learning the best ways to support you not just during labor and delivery, but during the 4th trimester, or immediately postpartum. He helped you practice your meditations, making sure you had everything you needed and that you remember to take your prenatal and drink enough water.

When you’re 8 months pregnant, getting winded from walking down the hall, Frankie gets a call from his boss at Flyboyz on his day off, asking him to come in. He grabs his hat and gives you a quick kiss before leaving, reminding you to drink water. He’d been working a lot lately, trying to make extra money so he can stay home with you and the baby for the first month. You’re not sure how long he’ll be gone, so you plop yourself down on your bed, pulling over the basket of baby clothes that still have to be sorted and you get to work, separating the sizes, long sleeve vs short, nightgowns from onesies. A couple hours later, the front door opens and Frankie slams it behind him, the picture frames rattling on the walls. You set aside the footie pajamas you were folding and go to stand up, but Frankie comes storming into the bedroom before you can move, anger coming off of him in waves.

“Frankie?”

He yanks his hat from his head, tossing it onto his dresser, knocking some things off of it. “I can’t fucking believe her!”

Struggling a little, you manage to get up and cross the room to him, placing your hand on his mid back. He recoils, anger flashing in his eyes but it’s not directed at you. Unsure of what happened, you know he needs to calm down before he can tell you. You grab an ice cube out of your glass of water and turn to Frankie.

“Give me your hand.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Just do it.”

He stares at you for a moment before shoving his hand out. You flip it palm up, opening his fingers and place the ice cube in his palm. He yelps, but you hold his hand firmly so he won’t drop the ice.

“What the fuck, Hermosa?”

“The cold will help reset your nervous system.”

“I don’t think- it’s too fucking cold, Hermosa.”

“Just another few seconds.”

His chest, which had been heaving a moment ago, has slowed down, the anger still there but at a manageable level. You tip his hand and grab the falling ice into your own palm, putting it in the sink in the bathroom before coming back to the bed and trying to sit on it. Frankie is there, taking your hand and helping you into bed. He goes to stand but you squeeze his hand and pull him until he sighs, sitting on the edge, his shoulders slumped.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking angry, but…the edge is gone. Ice…who fucking knew?”

“So..may I ask what happened?”

His eyes darken with repressed outrage. “I thought I was getting extra work. Instead, my pilot’s license has been suspended, pending a review.”

You sit up quickly, eyes going wide. “What??”

He nods, his jaw clenching. “Apparently, someone made a claim that I was using when I flew some clients and now they have to investigate.”

You knew that Frankie had been clean over a year, that he wasn’t using at all. “Oh, Frankie. Wait..who made the claim?”

He looks at you. “It was anonymous but I know it was Elizabeth.” He says her name with absolute disgust and hate that you nearly pull back from him.

“Elizabeth? Would she-”

“Oh come on, Hermosa. You don’t think it was her? I’ve been clean for well over a year. She’s the only one who would have known that I used that would make claims.”

“What about Rick?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nah. He left Flyboyz while you were…out of town. I told him he had to leave or I would report him for selling. He started to threaten to bring me down with him, but then remembered you were…not in my life and he could see the rock bottom in me, I guess. So he backed off, just left to go elsewhere. There’s no way it’s him. It’s her. It’s always her causing shit. I’m so fucking sick of it!”

Placing a hand on his back, you start to rub it, adding in little scratches here and there like he likes. “She is a bitch.”

“I just got my license back. I worked so hard on that.” He puts his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. You scoot towards him wrapping your arm around him.

“I know you did. But you said suspended? That doesn’t mean revoked, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“It means, I can’t fly until it’s reinstated. I have to pee in a cup at random times during the week for 6 months to prove I’m clean before they will lift the suspension.”

“Well there you go!”

He looks up at you, his eyebrows pulling together. “There I go, what? We can’t afford for me to not have this income, Hermosa.”

“We’ll be ok-”

“You’re about to have a baby. Your income won’t happen for a bit, and that’s fine, but we needed this extra money and now I can’t provide that. All because of my bitch of an ex!”

“Frankie, we’ll be ok. If we have to borrow money, we can.”

“I’m not borrowing money.”

“Fine. Then I will borrow it.”

“No, I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Frankie-”

“Just…can we just stop for tonight? I’m trying to process this.”

You open your mouth to argue but then see the exhausted look on his face. “Sure. Why don’t you come talk to us? That always makes you feel better.”

Leaning back against the headboard, you watch as Frankie scoots up the bed, getting level with your belly as you turn on your side so you’re not being squished. He chats to the baby for a while, about everything and nothing and by the time he’s done, his shoulders are relaxed and he’s not as angry anymore.

Elizabeth never fully admits to being the one to make the claim, but you see the look on her face through the car window when you make your next exchange for Aurelia after Frankie confronts her and you know she did it. There’s nothing you can say or do except wait it out. Frankie getting his license back will be all the revenge you’ll need.

—---- (Skip to the next line if you don’t want to read about labor. It’s not terribly graphic at all, but I know it’s not everyone’s thing)-------

“I never thought I’d have to beg you to have sex with me!” You stomp your foot, furious that Frankie won’t follow the doctor’s advice.

It had been a few weeks since his license was revoked and you were a week past your due date and not happy about it.

“Hermosa, I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know, I know. But the midwife even said that sex is the best way to induce labor because of the prostaglandins in your semen.”

“You make it sound so sexy.”

“Frankie,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep sigh. “I am the size of a house. I am miserable and sweaty and I haven’t seen my feet in months and I just want to have this baby already. If it’s my belly, I can turn around-”

“You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Then please?”

Frankie studies you for a long moment, his shoulders starting to slump and that’s when you knew you had him. “Alright, fine. We can try it. But we’re going slow, taking our time, ok?”

“No arguments here.”

Contractions started within an hour of Frankie cumming inside of you. You weren’t sure at first what you were feeling, but it sort of felt like a bad period cramp, so you assumed this must be it. Frankie timed them all for you, helping you breathe as they got more intense and closer together, and when they were close enough apart, Frankie helped you to his truck and drove to the hospital. In between contractions, you watched him as he drove, expertly winding his way through traffic, a look of focus on his face, a little furrow between his brow the only indication that this was not a normal day behind the wheel. How lucky you were to have this man, who can be calm in stressful situations, want to spend his life with you.

“What?” Frankie glances sideways at you before turning back to the road.

“You’re cute when you focus.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Remember how cute I am when you’re in transition.”

Before you know it, you’re in a labor and delivery room, barely spending any time in triage before they whisked you away. Hospitals can be a frustrating place to have a baby. Each nurse walks in and tells you to rest between contractions, try to get some sleep when you can, but then a new nurse comes along within an hour, always rousing you from sleep to take your blood pressure or put their fingers where you didn’t want them. You’d finally had enough of the latter and told a nurse to kindly fuck off, and denied internal exams unless it was a medical emergency. Frankie was by your side the entire labor, putting counter pressure on your hips when you needed it, pulling your hair from your face, sneaking you snacks because they forbid food and you said you’d chomp off your own fingers if they didn’t let you eat. Transition was hard, but all of a sudden, you knew it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours, taking your calming breaths, but then realizing that Frankie was not next to you. Turning your head, you see him, wide eyed and backing towards the door.

“I’ll just-” He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“No, please. I need you here with me.” Another contraction has you breathing again and it’s a minute before he replies.

“You want me here?”

“Yes. I need you, Frankie.”

His eyes start to water over and it doesn’t occur to you then, but later that night it’l come to you - he wasn’t trying to dodge out of the delivery. He was having a flashback to when Elizabeth kicked him out of the room right when Aurelia was making her way into the world, and your heart hurt all over again. Frankie is at your side in an instant, turning to yell for the nurse who had surprisingly not come in for some random check.

“No time!” You yell, letting out a low groan, a technique you learned to help move baby down and out. Frankie’s face slides into focus mode and he moves behind you, just in time to catch the baby as it comes sliding out. He gathers the baby up, holding it close as it screams into the world. The nurse comes running in then, having heard the baby crying as you turn onto your back, arms outstretched to hold your baby, skin to skin.

“Baby is here! I didn’t even know you were transitioning! You were pretty quiet.”

The nurse bustles around and does her thing while Frankie transfers the baby to your bare chest. Tears stream down your face as you look at Frankie, who has tears of his own. He kisses the top of your head. “I am so proud of you, Hermosa.”

A few moments pass, the baby calming against your chest. “Hey Frankie? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to look! I was so focused on catching the baby and whether it was breathing and not dropping it that I don’t think I looked! Here.” He lifts the hip of the baby and smiles.

“We have a son. I have a son!”

—---No more labor/delivery details—---

Luis Christian Francisco Morales was born perfect. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, skin glowing. He was the perfect combination of you both, although you say he favors Frankie mostly.

You both settle into your roles as new parents, a lot of it being new to Frankie too, since Elizabeth had denied him so much. He was determined to not miss out on things this time, making sure you both had everything you needed and watching Luis when he stayed awake between feeds so you could have a nap. Aurelia cries the first time she sees Luis, big ugly sobs, and when Frankie finally calms her down enough to ask what’s wrong, she simply says “He…he’s…s-so so cute!” She happily takes up the mantle of “Big Sister” when she’s with you. Once, you wake from your nap only to find all 3 of them sleeping, Luis curled up on Frankie’s broad chest, Aurelia tucked onto his other side. You snap a photo and then quietly leave the room, taking the time to actually shower.

About a month in, Frankie comes back from dropping Aurelia with her mom. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion as he stares down at his phone.

“Everything ok?” You ask, shifting the bottle you were feeding Luis with so it was a better angle.

“Yeah. Uh…Santi just texted me.”

“Oh yeah? Everything ok?”

“Uh..he says congrats on Luis, that he’s the cutest, and that he was out of service for a bit and he’s sorry he didn’t text earlier.”

“That’s ok. I know he’s busy.”

Frankie is quiet for a moment. “He offered me some work.”

“Work?”

“Well, not just me. Benny, Will, and Tom too.”

“What kind of work?” When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him. He kicks his shoes off and sits next to you on the couch.

“Consulting.” His eyes don’t meet yours, focusing instead on his fingers, where he starts to pick at the skin around his nails.

“Consulting.” You say in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, like a mission?”

Frankie shrugs. “No? I mean, it’s just scoping out a place and looking for weaknesses. We give our report to the government he works with and then come back. Easy peasy.”

“If it’s so easy peasy, why aren’t you looking at me?”

He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before looking at you. “It’s for a week. Just trying to find holes in a fence.”

“And why do they need you?”

“They need a pilot.”

“You don’t have your license.”

“It probably doesn’t matter over there.”

“Frankie, I don’t-”

“I’ts $17k, Hermosa. We need the money.”

“I don’t like it. So much can go wrong. Who’s house is it? Definitely no one that’s a stand up citizen. What happens if they find you first? No, I don’t like it.”

“Just..he’s coming to town tomorrow and we’re going to chat about it at Benny’s fight. Let me ask some more questions.”

“I don’t like it, Frankie.”

“I know. Just..let me talk to Pope.”

—----

It’s late the next night and you start to pace the floor of your bedroom, wondering when he’ll be back. He’d texted you to tell you Benny had won the fight and they were stopping at the bar for a quick drink before Olivia takes him home to play nurse.

That had been 2 hours ago.

The door finally opens downstairs and you quietly make your way to the kitchen, where you were hearing Frankie move around.

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head. “I was awake. Luis is asleep.”

“Good, good. He go down ok?”

“Yeah, actually in his bassinet, but Frankie? How did it go?”

He gets a glass of water, chugging half of it before setting the glass down on the counter. “It’s just a recce. No live fire.”

“There’s a possibility of people shooting at you??”

“I mean, we are casing a place. It’s always possible if guards see you or-”

“No.”

He looks at you. “Hermosa, we need the money.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a job. We need this.”

“No money is worth your life, Frankie. None of your lives.”

“I won’t be in any major danger. I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have a family then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, no.”

Frankie puts his hands on his hips, cocking one hip back as he looks at you. “We’re behind on bills.”

“So? I’ll borrow some money and you can stay.”

“Hermosa-”

“Or I can get another job? A new client. I can-”

“You just had a baby, so no.”

“Then I can-”

“Hermosa.” He says it firmly, that hip still cocked back as his eyes find yours, resolve in them.

“You’ve…you’ve already said yes, haven’t you?”

His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. “We leave Thursday.”

Silence stretches between you both as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made that decision without me.”

“I made the decision for us. We need the money.”

“Oh, fuck you and the money! I said I could borrow it. You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m taking responsibility! We needed money and this just happens to come our way? I have to take it.”

“So you’re saying it’s fate that Santi texted you to lure you down there with the promise of $17k? You’re telling me that it’s just consulting and nothing else? Can you promise me that?”

He shrugs. “That was the original deal.”

“But can you promise me?”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’m going, Hermosa.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind you, wishing you could slam it.

The next couple days were torture. You kept trying to convince Frankie to stay, convince all of them to stay. You didn’t want any of them going. But they all said the same thing that Frankie said. “It’s just consulting.” Thursday morning, Tom comes to pick up Frankie pretty early. He leans over to kiss you in bed and you take one more shot at trying to get him to stay. Your fingers wind into his curls as you pull him to you, deepening the chaste kiss he had started.

“You can still stay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be back in a week, Hermosa. I love you.”

Tears streaming down your face, you reply. “I love you too. Please don’t die. Don’t any of you die.”

Frankie chuckles. “We’ll be fine. I’ll call you in a couple of days once we’re settled, ok?”

—----

Except, Frankie did not call in a couple of days. Neither did any of the others, nor had they reached out to Stacy, Molly, or Olivia. There was no one to call, no contact. They needed it that way for whatever consultation they were on. Stacey brought the kids over and Olivia came too, all of you opting to stay together and support each other at least during the day. As the few days stretched into a week, which stretched into nearly another, Olivia split her time between you and Stacy’s, offering to watch the kids so you each could have a moment to yourselves. She was at Stacy’s tonight, Luis snuggled and tucked in beside you as you channel surf the tv, landing on nothing in particular. It was day 10 and about 2am so all of the infomercials were on. You landed on one for some random kitchen gadget when your phone rings. You jump, grabbing for your phone to quickly hit the silent button before it wakes Luis. It was an unknown number, but definitely foreign and so you pick up right away.

“Frankie?”

“Hermosa,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his voice wavering on the last syllable of your name.

“Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Fuck, I’ve been terrified out of my mind.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things got…out of hand. I can explain more when I get home.”

“I understand. But you’re ok?”

“I’m ok. A little banged up but ok.”

“Everyone else?”

The way he’s silent has your throat closing up, making it difficult to speak. “Frankie?”

“It’s Tom.”

While Tom and you never were best friends, there’s no way you would’ve wished death on the man, nor would you have wanted to have his girls without a father.

—----

Frankie’s mom takes Luis while you drive to the airport, there to pick up Frankie as Olivia and Stacy were going to get Benny and Will. You had experienced all of the emotions these past 10 days, mostly anger and fear, but when you heard his voice, a part of you caved. You just wanted him home and were grateful that he was alive.

You spot Benny first, towering over a majority of the crowd as people file out security and head towards baggage claim. Then you see it - a dark blue standard heating oil cap bobbing next to Benny and suddenly, you’re running, pushing people out of the way as you run towards him, Frankie seeing you at the last moment, dropping his bag to gather you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Olivia and Stacy copy your actions, Will hissing when Stacy throws her arms around him. He mutters “I’m ok.” before pulling her to him. Pulling back, you look up into Frankie’s black brown eyes, taking in all the features of his face, his laugh lines, the spot where his one dimple pops up, the fact that he had the audacity to shave his beard.

“You shaved,” you said simply, running a finger along his jawline.

“Yeah. But I’ll grow it back just for you.”

His lips crash to yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face as you press your body against his, fingers twisting in his shirt.

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathe out between kisses.

“Fair enough.”

Hugs were exchanged all around before everyone went to their homes. On the drive home, Frankie tells you everything, how it was just a consult but then they decided to try and do it themselves, how it would’ve all been fine if they hadn’t missed their window, or if Tom had listened when he said it was too much weight for the helicopter.

“Wait..you crashed?”

“Yeah. It was just a little crash.”

“Frankie!”

“It’s me. I landed us…mostly fine. We all walked away.”

He explains about the money and the people from the village, and how they had to trek up the fucking Andes mountains and down the other side. How a young man from the village had wanted revenge and got it, dying himself in the process. How they carried Tom down the side of the mountain, leaving a ton of money there, only to make it to safety and come back with a new chopper to get the money and safely make it back in a whole other country, which is where he called you from. By the end of the story you’re silent, tears quietly falling down your face as you realize how easily they all could’ve died on the side of those mountains. How one of them did.

“We each put about $5mil in a trust fund for Tom’s girls, made sure Molly was taken care of. It’s what Tom would’ve wanted and it’s…it’ll never be enough.”

“Hey,” you squeeze his thigh and he looks at you, tears on his cheeks. “You are not to blame. Every one of you knew what you were doing, knew there were risks. And while I can’t say who shot first as I wasn’t there, Frankie, it was self defense. And, I’m sorry, but knowing you and knowing Tom? I’d bet money on him shooting first.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah I guess so…. are you mad at me still?”

“I was all prepared to be so pissed at you, but honestly? I’m just glad to have you here and alive.”

Frankie spends the next hour between your legs and you spend the hour after that washing his hair and tending to his arguably minor wounds. Once you were clean and dressed, you made him something to eat, as you’d have to go get Luis shortly. When you set his glass of water down, he grips your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to call your sponsor?”

He shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. I think I’m just so grateful to be alive. And there’s one more thing.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

Frankie leans in closer, speaking low in your ear. “We got the rest of the money.”

“The $17k?” You said stupidly.

Frankie smiles and shakes his head. “A lot more than $17k.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Millions, Hermosa. Each. Millions. We’re set for life, as are Luis and Aurelia.”

“Can we stay here?”

Frankie chuckles. “What?”

“I don’t want some giant mansion. I want to stay here. In our house.”

Frankie smiles and kisses you lightly. “We can do whatever you want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Besides take care of my family?”

“Besides that.”

“Once I get my license reinstated, I want to start my business.” His eyes light up as he talks about it, how he had already looked into getting retired choppers, and had gathered up some possible contacts, even scouted out some property. The only thing that had stopped him was the money, which was no longer an issue.

—----

6 months later, Frankie’s license gets reinstated, the owner clapping him on the shoulder and apologizing for everything. A month later, Frankie opens Chopperz, his veteran owned and operated helicopter tour business. It’s a instant success - apparently people really want to experience flying in various retired military equipment being flown by actual veterans. He even has repeat customers, although a lot of them are women and you catch more than one of them blushing when he talks to them.

Will and Stacy build a new house, much bigger to fit their expanding family, ecstatic that they were finally having a girl. He quits giving speeches almost immediately, staying home with his family and helping Frankie out when he needs it.

Benny and Olivia confessed that they had actually gotten married the day after Benny’s last fight, not able to wait any longer. When he came home, they took off to travel the world while their dream house was being built just down the road from Frankie and Will.

Santi went to Australia to find Yovanna and her brother, following them around until they got settled. He and Yovanna stayed together for a while, and he took some time for himself, wandering the world to see things when he wasn’t in a uniform. He eventually came back, building a house down the road from Frankie and the Millers. But to his first get together with everyone, he brought a girl, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone, but you could see the way he looked at her, constantly touching her lightly, pressing kisses to her head, shoulder, lips, anywhere he could. And she was doing the same, her eyes lighting up every time they looked at each other, so when you asked him later, away from everyone else, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he thinks she’s the one, that she gets him, understands him, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about his money, which she didn’t even know about until now.

Frankie and you were finally happy, after all these years. Elizabeth finally stopped her shit, leaving you and Frankie to be happy and only communicating when it regards Aurelia. Instead of moving, you decide to expand your house, adding another couple of bedrooms because you want to eventually expand your family. Frankie is beyond happy, smiling at Luis and Aurelia as they run around their new treehouse in the backyard, feeling you wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his broad back before moving to stand next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you both watch your kids.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, turning your head up to him.

“How happy I am. How I wish we had started this all sooner, that it didn’t take such a shitty road to get here, and that it didn’t take us this long.”

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him to you as you kiss him, his soft lips lightly nibbling at yours.

“I’ll always wait for you, Frankie.”

—----

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