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miryum · 10 months

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Foundling Villa- Chapter 12

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster @chonkybonky @eau-rougee @champomiel @justyouraverageeverydaysimp @multifandom-loser

Warnings: Argument, misogyny, a man being a putz and hitting on reader (he grabs her wrist), and protective!Charles (yes, that’s a warning)

ao3 link next chapter>>

Princess Leclerc,

I am, admittedly, surprised by your letter. It’s not often that a princess writes to me after I attend her brother-in-law’s coronation with tales of foreboding.

I’m happy that you call me a friend. It’s nice to know that I have confidante in this upscale ladder of hierarchy.

Concerning your words, I’m afraid I can’t say much more. My father would have my hide. Hopefully, he doesn’t find out that we’re conversing.

Enza and Redull have always had a rivalry. It started when Redull was an up- and- coming kingdom. Enza felt threatened, so the king sent troops to watch over our building and monarchy. The people of Redull didn’t look kindly on that, and if Enzan troops hadn’t been deployed, Redull’s territory could be much more expensive today. My kingdom has never forgiven yours. My father, especially, had a personal vendetta against Enza. I’m not sure I’m in a position to disclose why.

There is the past. I cannot tell you the future. All I can say is: tread carefully in the present.

Best wishes,

Prince Max Verstappen

P.S. pawn to f6

“King Stein, once again, I wish to express my immense gratitude for allowing me and my wife to stay with you.” Charles shook King Stein’s hand and bowed. It was a lovely day and the royals of both Enza and Haas stood on the steps of the Haas castle.

“It’s my pleasure!” King Stein grinned. “The kingdom of Haas is always welcome to Enzans. And my daughter loves having Princess Y/n as a playmate.” Charles glanced over to watch as you swooped up the princess of Haas in a large hug, whispering goodbyes and promises to come again. “But Prince Charles,” King Stein gripped the younger man closer. “Remember what we discussed. It’s vital to Formuline’s future. I recommend sending your quickest messenger to your brother to tell him what you learned.”

“Yes, of course. Once again, my deepest thanks.” Charles bowed once more before his eyes shifted back over to you. “Darling,” Charles ambled over to you and the young princess, setting a hand on your lower back. “We really should be going; King Verstappen is expecting us before nightfall.”

You sighed dramatically. “You’re right, unfortunately. I am so sorry, Princess.” You set the girl down, bopping her on the nose. “I must go now.”

The Princess of Haas groaned. “Noooo! Princess Y/n! We’re not done playing!”

“I know, dear,” you crouched down and pouted. “But I’ll visit soon, okay?”

“Okay…” the young girl huffed. “Do you think you could bring your baby next time?”

You frowned cautiously. “What baby?”

“Your and Prince Charles’ baby!” The girl exclaimed, “everybody has babies and I wanna see yours! I bet they're adorable!”

“We’ll get right on that,” Charles smirked, hand snaking to your waist and pinching your side. You slapped his hand away and bid goodbye to the monarchs of Haas.

The flirting between you and Charles had increased, and you weren’t sure why. It made you feel like a teenager again, daydreaming about the beautiful people you saw at court with your sisters. Your connection with Charles had grown ever since the night at Foundling Villa and the unfortunate death of King Hervé. Along with the connection, the butterflies in your stomach.

Charles took his place beside you in the carriage and opened up a small chest. “What are you doing?” You hummed, peering at the chest and resting your head on his shoulder.

“I need to write a letter to Lorenzo,” Charles explained. “King Stein said some very interesting things that shed some light on our current situation.”

“Like what?” You nuzzled into his side, feeling tired after your visit in Haas. Charles focused on the parchment, quill, and ink in front of him. He hoped to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and the pain in his chest.

He started composing his letter to Lorenzo, simultaneously telling you what he had learned. “Redull came to Haas asking for an alliance. Haas demanded to know why, but Redull refused. King Stein heard from King Hamilton that Redull also came to him. We’re nowhere close to knowing their plan, but it’s going to be big. Clearly, Redull doesn’t believe they can do it alone. As long as we keep allies away from them, it’ll buy us more time. I don’t want to believe my worries, but Redull may be looking for war. If they acquire the support of another large kingdom, or even a smaller kingdom such as Lauren or Aston, their army would amass overwhelming numbers that could easily cut down all of Formuline.”

When you didn’t respond with helpful insight or advice, Charles looked down at your sleeping figure. “Oh.” He blinked twice. Does this mean she trusts me now?

“Y/n, cherié,” Charles rubbed your back gently. “We’ve arrived in Redull.”

“What?” You mumbled, curling into him.

“You must awaken. We have to meet with King Verstappen.”

“Right, yes, alright.” You nodded sagely, and then promptly went back to sleep. Charles chuckled deeply. He continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and gently coax you awake until you were fully conscious. “I am so sorry,” you shook your head, embarrassed. “I guess the rocking of the carriage put me to sleep.”

“That’s quite alright, but we still have a meeting to attend to.” Charles knocked on the carriage interior and the door sprung open by a footman.

“Must I join you in the meeting?” you wondered.

Charles frowned. “I would prefer it. I’m not sure I trust the people of Redull. Especially the aristocrats. I would rather have you close by so I can see and tend to you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet, Charles, but I’m pretty sure I can handle my own.”

“If that’s what you want,” he conceded.

Stepping down from the carriage, you two were greeted by King Verstappen and his son, Prince Max. “Prince Leclerc! Princess Leclerc! What a pleasure to have you join us in Redull!” The two men were dressed to the nines in a way that made you suspect they were trying to upstage or intimidate you. Prince Max muttered something and his father shot him a glare, murmuring a harsh complaint back.

“King Verstappen, how chivalrous of you to invite us,” Charles said.

“Well, once I heard about your newlywed excursion around the continent, I simply had to. It didn’t seem right that you would pass through Formuline without visiting Redull. We are one of your closest allies.” The words had a thinly veiled threat hidden in it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, after all.

“I can’t imagine how we skipped over Redull,” you spoke up, surprising the Redull monarch. “It pains me that I wouldn’t visit my good friend, Prince Verstappen.” The said man bowed lowly to you. “Oh, and Prince Verstappen,” you began. “King's pawn to e3.”

The throne room was bustling with people. You stuck to the edges of the room, priding yourself as a wallflower. You dreaded your decision of not following Charles to his meeting with King Verstappen. Instead of being with your husband, whom you knew, you were stuck in a room full of foreign strangers. Who knew if they were whispering behind your back, plotting the demise of Enza? Needles seemed to prick down your spine. You didn’t feel safe. You felt surrounded by wolves in sheep's clothing. Here in Redull, Charles was the only other sheep you could count on, certain he wasn’t wearing a disguise.

It didn’t help your discomfort that a man kept watching you over the rim of his glass.

This man, in military garb, had shaved blond hair and a lanky frame. His eyes, which bored into you, were a dark brown. You carefully watched as he set down his goblet and stalked over to you.

Immediately, you turned away. Your gown, which had just been cleaned after the long trip, swished around your feet. The simple tiara that Redull maids had woven into your hair felt heavy. Spying the doors- your exit- you hurried towards them.

“Do you know where Prince Charles is?” you asked one of the guards stationed nearby. Once he gave you directions, you set out down the corridor he instructed. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears; the military man was following you. An unnerving smirk flew onto his lips when you made eye contact. You turned away and your steps became faster. You knew that as long as you found Charles, this man would leave you alone. You wondered if you should’ve stayed in the throne room- at least people were there to witness anything. Guards had lined the room, capable of intervening. Cursing your impulsive thinking, you knew you were too far into the halls of Redull to turn back.

Unfortunately, the man caught up to you just as you rounded a corner. “Princess Y/n of Enza, correct?” His gravelly voice made your insides curl with disgust.

“Princess Leclerc, yes,” you corrected him, attempting to brush past. Just one more hallway and the room where Charles sat would be in your sights.

“I’m Duke Samuel Hasting. I also hold the title of a commander of King Verstappen’s cavalry.” He seemed to boast, yet his brag wasn’t as grand as he had hoped.

“Fascinating.” You wanted to roll your eyes. “I also hold the title of married.”

“Yet, where’s your husband?” Hasting looked even more disgusting as he lent into you.

“In a room right down the hall, actually. Would you like me to grab him for you?”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m sure he doesn’t have to know everything that happens to you.” Hasting grabbed your wrist.

“I will scream,” you said lowly. It sounded more like a threat than a warning. “Let go of me this instant.”

“Oh, Princess, you don’t mean that.” It sounded like Hasting was trying to sound seductive, but he just sounded constipated.

“I do mean it,” you retorted. “Why would I say it otherwise? That’s stupid.” You wrenched out of his grip and stormed down the hall. Finally turning the corner, you saw Charles exiting the meeting room, shaking hands with advisors of Redull, looking pleased, yet reserved.

“Y/n!” Hasting called out sharply.

“Y/n?” Charles’ head turned towards you. You let out a sigh of relief. Seeing your expression, Charles’ brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched and you grasped it thankfully. “Y/n?” he asked again.

“Please, can we leave?” you asked.

“Yes, but why?” Charles’ eyes darted to Hasting, who stood at the end of the corridor.

“Princess Y/n was bothering me,” Hasting smoothly lied. “Making advances, and such. I thought you should know.”

“Is this true, cherié?” Charles glanced down at you.

You shook your head, a little hurt that he thought you would flirt with another man. “The opposite, actually. I was coming to get you when this… Duke grabbed me.”

“He touched you?” Charles’ words became dangerously low.

“He took hold of my wrist, Charles. It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, you’re wrong. He should never have touched you. What this Duke did was betray the trust of Enza by pursuing you.” Your husband shot a look at the Redull advisors, who shrunk from his stare.

“Charles, please, can we simply leave? I don’t feel comfortable here.” Admittedly, this new protective, even possessive, side of Charles sparked something within you.

“If that’s what you want.” Charles shot one last glare at Hasting. Hasting glowered back, pissed that you outed him. Charles placed a hand on your back and swept you towards the palace entrance.

As you and your husband passed Hasting, the latter man clapped a strong hand on your shoulder, jerked you backward, and snarled, “you bitch!” His hand drew back, as if to slap you, but Charles intervened.

It would best be described as a dance. Charles’ movements were fluid and languid. In one motion, Charles gently pushed you behind him, reared back, and punched the man. “That is my wife!” A primal instinct seemed to rush over him: an instinct to protect what he loved.

Blood poured out of Hasting’s broken nose and the skin at Charles’ knuckles split. Redull advisors were quick to pull Charles back, lest he do anything worse. You and Charles were ushered out of the Redull palace, hurried goodbyes from both you and Prince Max; you wanted one good tie to the kingdom.

Once you were in the carriage, tying one of your handkerchiefs around his hand, you whispered softly, “thank you, Charles.”

Charles’ eyes had gone from livid to loving. “I told you- I’d do anything for you.”

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 months

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Wolves At The Door; Part Eight

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: You both skied in silence for a long while, Karl absently watching your hips move back and forth beneath your snowsuit. Due to the stark uniformity of the surrounding area there wasn't much else to look at anyways, so he didn't feel particularly bad for doing so.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our eighth installment! There will be no update on the 15th, so our next installment will come on the 22nd. Thank you for reading 💚Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh @doggydale

x. Prelude

1. Indebted

2. Blood On Your Hands

3. Brush With Death

4. Come To Bed

5. Smells Like Snow

6. Hot Iron

7. Turnover

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, sexual acts between two consenting adults and graphic depictions of mental and physical duress. Stay safe!]

Tucking into his sleeping bag that night, this time on a wooden lean-to thatched with old pine boughs, his stomach full of a delicious meal, Karl knew he ought to be content.

Hell, he ought to be worn out from a day of socializing.

But all he could focus on was your back. You had spread out your sleeping roll next to his once you returned from the bathhouse, wished him goodnight sleepily and then immediately nodded off. You were on the outside instead of him, which Karl wasn't enormously fond of, but he understood that you were just too exhausted to climb over him.

Your back was tantalizingly close. It was the only part of you not wholly engulfed by your sleeping bag. He already knew what the weave of your thermal shirt felt like, after last night-

Karl forced himself to roll onto his back, tearing his eyes away from you. Thinking about it too much felt…wrong, somehow, like he was about to get his wrist slapped. Or broken. The merciful Mother Miranda hadn't exactly spared the rod when it came to him.

The man forced a quiet breath out through his nose, his fingers absently mapping the length of the scar on his lower lip.

It was still immensely foreign for him to want something and not instantly indulge himself in it. Really, it was going against the nature of the beast! Karl felt a little fake over the whole thing, like he was expected to just…devour you. Swallow you whole and leave nothing but the bones. This slow approach…

Was there anything in life actually worth waiting for? Gods, it had always been such a mad dash ever since he had decided he wanted to kill Miranda. Karl hadn't thought about waiting for anything else in years upon years, his single-minded ambition serving him well in that pursuit.

Karl glanced over at you again before he could stop himself.

Yes. Was it being greedy if you wanted it too?

He barely refrained from groaning, the man jamming his knuckles against his eyes in frustration. Sleep didn't come easily for him that night.

So he was a little disgruntled when he was awoken again, well before dawn if the sky was anything to go by. However, his malcontent rapidly vanished as he heard you drowsily ask, "can I put your dick in my mouth?"

Heisenberg didn't even think about his reply, much to his dismay. The word rushed out of his mouth before he could register it. "Absolutely." He grunted, your hand immediately moving to rest on the plane of his hip. "Aren't you tired though?"

"A little," you admitted, yawning, "but I want to do this."

"Listen, I…last night was kind of a fluke for me." Karl warned you gruffly, his words slow to come. It hadn't even been a fluke, it had been an outright baffling turn of events for him to only come once. In the past, it had always taken him a short eternity, at least three orgasms before he was satisfied. Something about last night, something about you had to have been different. Maybe it was the fact that it had been so long for him. "If you start this, it's probably not going to be over for…well, a while. So you don't have t-"

"Shh." You mumbled, unzipping his pants. "I don't care. I'm not doing this to get it out of the way, Karl."

His misgivings quickly faded when you ran your tongue over the side of his dick, Karl hissing out a breath and groaning. You looked incredible with his dick in your mouth. Your eyes were heated and drowsy, your hair still a mess from sleep, slightly-chilled fingers wrapped around the base of his cock so you could engulf him in your mouth…incredible, he could at least admit to himself. Even if he didn't deserve it.

And he certainly didn't.

"Get up here." He managed to say, patting his chest.

You pulled your mouth away, squinting up at him. "Where?" You asked, your spit-slick palm still working his cock.

Karl gritted his teeth; he had forgotten you couldn't really see in the dark. "Uh. On my face." He finally clarified awkwardly. "I want you to sit on my face, sugar."

"Oh." You breathed. Something in your tone made Karl's dick twitch, which was very new. He'd never had anything like that happen.

Fuck, what the hell was the matter with him? One person showed a little interest and all of a sudden his body was screaming for them? It felt pitiful, but maybe it made sense. No one had ever wanted him before, they had always wanted what he could offer them. Karl hadn't exactly had his pick of bedfellows either, the man not overeager to lose his dick to one thing or another.

Maybe this was normal.

However, he didn't really feel like dedicating any more thought to that particular issue, choosing instead to focus on you gingerly straddling his head.

…

Morning found you wrapped around a slumbering Karl, the insides of your thighs still pleasantly sensitive from the rub of his facial hair. You groaned, stretching and then settling back into his arms for another minute or two.

Your mind drifted back to you waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden impulse to offer a sexual favor, acting on said impulse and how gratifying Karl's response had been. Hell, he hadn't so much as taken a beat before he answered. Your jaw was a little stiff this morning, but to be fair, he had warned you and apologized for how long the act might take. He had also gotten you off as well, which was unexpected but appreciated.

In the cold daylight you grimaced at yourself, thinking everything over. It might not be…so bad, having someone around that, even while being emotionally unavailable, was physically attracted to you. The attention was nice. The way he looked at you was nice. You could live with an arrangement like this. The two of you cohabitating, occasionally sleeping together, but without the mess of a relationship.

It felt smart. Logical. A mutually-beneficial endeavor.

You nodded, your mind made up, and with that settled you moved to retrieve your discarded leggings from the base of your sleeping bag. The town campground had the rare luxury of bathrooms with running water and you intended to take full advantage of them once more. Any time you could bathe without having to lug or heat the water yourself was prized.

Upon your return from getting washed up for the day, Karl was just struggling out of the tangled mess of his sleeping bag. You took in the way he looked for a moment, catching yourself smiling at his disheveled appearance before he looked up with a scowl.

Seems like you may have tamed me.

"Thought you got eaten." He said unconvincingly, yawning midway through his sentence.

"Well, you certainly made a valiant attempt at doing so last night." You shot back, snickering at his momentary confusion. Whatever his hangup had been, it seemed that the casual nature of your most recent offer had been enough to dispel it. Heisenberg actually laughed once he realized what you were getting at, the sound refreshing in its honesty.

"You know how I am, always ravenous." He teased with a wink, beginning to messily roll up his bedding. "At least you let me sleep for a few hours-"

"'Let' you, oh my God you're so dramatic."

Continuing to banter back and forth, the two of you broke down camp for the morning and got everything packed back up. As usual, you were returning to Emil's to pick up the supplies that you had secured the previous day, and from there it was back on the trail.

Karl seemed to be in high spirits this morning, the man carrying on a lively, one-sided conversation with a glowering Emil while he effortlessly loaded the sled with bags of flour and sugar. Emil had always helped you in the past, so it was a bit humorous to see how put-out the elderly man was over Karl's assistance.

"Take care of yourself, little one." Emil said before you departed, his brows furrowed in a serious expression. "We don't know what happened regarding the military presence at the reservoir and…" he paused, aiming a glare at the oblivious Karl. "Well, we don't know what we don't know, I suppose." He finished grudgingly.

"Thanks for looking out for me." You grinned, making Emil reluctantly smile back. "I can handle myself, but I appreciate the concern."

Emil caught your arm as you turned to leave. "I…I am unsure of the validity of Marku's reports. Promise me you will be safe." He murmured. You nodded. His shoulders sagged, the elderly man clearly relieved. "Thank you for humoring me, little one."

…

"What's he to you, some kind of uncle?" Heisenberg finally asked after the two of you had crossed the town line (indicated by a metal sign so worn it was essentially illegible). "Seemed a little more concerned than the average butcher or baker."

You sighed, glancing over at him. "Emil worked with my relatives for a long time, like I said. He's basically watched me grow up, coming here every fall for years and years with my family."

Karl 'hmm'ed, still annoyed with how Emil had sullenly watched him, but at least now he understood why. "Guess I'll have to let it slide, then." He joked lightly. "The disrespect."

He didn't expect you to laugh. "Don't feel special, he's like that with everyone new. Just stick around and he'll warm up to you."

Stick around. Karl wasn't sure what to make of that. He busied himself adjusting the load on the sled, double-checking the straps wrapped around the bags of flour and brown sugar.

Did you…want him to stick around? Did you want him to stay in your cabin even longer?

Indebted.

Karl tossed his head, jamming his hat back down as the wind whipped through the trees. "I assume you know the way?" He called over the wind, smirking when you gestured downward with a deadpan expression at the rutted, snow-covered track. The runner marks from the sled were still visible as well, indicating where the two of you had passed by yesterday.

You both skied in silence for a long while, Karl absently watching your hips move back and forth beneath your snowsuit. Due to the stark uniformity of the surrounding area there wasn't much else to look at anyways, so he didn't feel particularly bad for doing so.

Casual, maybe that's what you were interested in? A casual relationship, some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement. You didn't seem to feel strongly one way or another, always keeping your cards close to your chest. It was probably simpler to keep things casual anyway.

You had mentioned Emil and Marku saying something about 'a military presence at the reservoir'. He could only assume it was Moreau's reservoir, especially after that hunched old shepherd had asked if he had any relation to the Heisenberg factory.

You look familiar.

Had the older generation in that town met his relatives? His father, maybe? A shudder ran down his spine at the thought. Unless his former family had been better at hiding their urges than he was, he doubted they had left a good impression. He had gotten his legendary temper somewhere, after all.

That particular train of thought steamed onward, souring Karl's mood into a black chasm of bitter half-memories. Family was such a loaded topic, but it really always had been. After his father had passed on (too bad, so sad), family was confusing at best and downright terrible at worst. He didn't have anyone. He never had, and if he'd had his way it would have stayed as such. The bastardization of siblings, of mother, would always make him writhe. Even at a young age, he knew better than to trust what that cult leader wanted to fill his mind with.

They were a means to an end, they always had been. Miranda prettying it up with family was just another tactic to keep them loyal, devoted, good little sheep in her flock.

"You okay?" Karl started at the sound of your voice beside him, the man quickly turning. You had paused for a drink, your water bottle in hand while you raised an eyebrow at him.

Damn, he was parched. "Lost in thought." Heisenberg muttered.

"Want to talk about-"

"No." He snapped, then cringed at the way your face briefly showed your hurt before you could hide it. "I uh, no. Sorry. This stuff is better off in my head."

"Don't think too hard, okay? I can see the steam coming out of your ears." You retorted snidely.

Karl gave you a hollow grin, taking a healthy sip from his own bottle. "What can I say? I'm a machine of industry."

…

You may as well have been alone for all that your companion offered to the trek in terms of conversation. He trundled along behind you silently, the sled rails crunching through the icy top of the snow under their heavy burden. Nearly two hundred pounds of flour and sugar, never mind the other, less bulky items you had picked up. Your own backpack was carefully loaded to the brim, full of small essentials that would make your winter bearable. It was always important to find ways to stave off the boredom during the cold months, where it seemed like the entire world was hibernating except for you.

The two of you walked well into the afternoon to reach the lean-to, choosing to eat lunch on the road as opposed to stopping. You found that often if you had a fully-loaded pack, stopping and starting back up again was more difficult than just continuing to plod forward. Karl didn't seem to mind one way or another, the man having no issue with keeping the even pace.

Upon reaching the lean-to, you took in the copious tracks through the snow around the area. Wolf prints criss-crossed over yours and Karl's, and at the outskirts of the clearing was the meandering trail of a solitary bear. You whistled at the sight of that, a little concerned. The lean-to was only about three feet off the ground; a normal-sized brown bear would be able to crawl into it on top of you and Karl and you doubted it would be overly thrilled with your company.

"What the hell? That big bitch ought to be in hibernation." Karl grumbled as he came up alongside you, the man placing a boot firmly in the middle of a pawprint.

"Late bloomer, I guess." You shrugged, sighing. "I usually don't get much sleep on the return trip anyway. Too much food and the smells attract the wildlife."

"Sugar, I'm here." Karl thumped himself on the chest, making you snort. "If that bear wants to pick a fight, I'll go mano a mano with it. I do not give a shit."

"I mean you're a bit better suited to the challenge than the average person, what with your ability to make metal listen to you." You pointed out. "The rest of us normies would have a real rough time, especially without a gun." Heisenberg's scoff of derision at that was almost deafening, startling another snicker out of you. "Forgive me, Lord Heisenberg." You teased.

"Don't call me that." His tone dropped to a low growl, entirely lacking in humor. You gave him a confused look and he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I…I just don't want to think about that shit right now," he continued quietly.

"Okay." Christ, you felt awkward. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Karl glanced around, then set off in a random direction. You watched him go, worried until he bent to scoop up a few twigs from beneath a tree. The relief that washed over you was…odd, so you staunchly ignored it by beginning to mound up the ashes in the fire pit.

Scraping the char off to the sides, you worked to separate out the half-burned sticks from the rest of the ash so that you could build the fire properly. A few moments of digging around later and you had a decent pile of kindling, using your knife to splinter the burnt branches into a more useful size. The act was meditative, helping you to turn off the part of you that so desperately wanted to think about Karl, about his past, about…

You shook your head, frustrated at yourself. Now wasn't the time for this! You needed to get the fire going before you lost daylight. That was the priority.

Karl dumped an armful of branches onto the ground beside the half barrel, his eyes distant and reply vague when you thanked him. Clearly he too was thinking hard. He began methodically snapping branches in half, breaking them down into a more manageable size while you continued to carefully stack the kindling. When you finally slipped a match in between the twigs and splinters, you were relieved by how quickly the flames caught. Sometimes it was a little touch and go!

"What's on the menu, sugar?" Heisenberg asked, opening the flap of his pack and then looking at you expectantly.

"Well, we've got the leftovers from last night's dinner." You had packed the two cardboard takeaway containers (with plastic cutlery, what luxuries!) into the outside of your pack to keep them cold, so you directed him to where they were. "We also have the last of the preserves, at least until we get home, and the bread."

"Save that for the morning, we can make toast." Karl reasoned and you nodded in agreement.

The two takeout containers were soon splayed open, Heisenberg offering you a bite of his cheese pie in exchange for one of the cabbage rolls you had saved. The two of you took turns warming your ramshackle dinner over the fire, Karl having fashioned a sort of long fork out of a section of metal from the top of the barrel in order to facilitate the process.

"Granted, I could just stick my hand into the fire, but I don't feel like healing third degree burns tonight." Karl waved his fingers well above the flames in a joking manner.

"Does anything actually hurt you?" You asked curiously, kicking yourself when his expression darkened immediately.

"Shit hurts me like it hurts everyone else." Heisenberg responded stiffly. "I've still got nerve endings. They're a little fried, but there."

"Sorry, I'm really putting my foot in my mouth tonight." You tried to apologize but he waved it off.

"You're allowed to be curious, sugar. If I didn't want to answer, I wouldn't."

"Yeah but I'm not owed information. I'm just nosy, I guess. Don't feel like you have to answer things just because I ask them." At that, you were pleased to see the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat. You wondered if he had felt like he had to answer you, even if it made him uncomfortable.

"Thanks," was his eventual reply, and the two of you lapsed into a companionable silence while you finished dinner.

…

Heisenberg woke to a fresh dusting of snow on the ground, your face buried in his chest and frost coating his eyebrows. He grumbled, rubbing the heel of his palm back and forth to dislodge the icy remains on his forehead. Drowsy eyes traveled to the two packs that he had hoisted high up into a nearby tree, the man relieved to see them still hanging unscathed. There were also no fresh tracks in the snow that he could see from his reclined position, another good sign.

It had been a quiet night, then. That was a relief. Karl had been concerned about a possible scuffle in the night, either with local wildlife or old friends, but it seemed his fears had been unfounded.

"Time to wake up, sugar." Karl murmured, rubbing your back. "Home tonight, if all goes well."

"Mhm," you hummed, pressing an absent kiss to the underside of his jaw before you rolled upright and stretched. A wide yawn quickly turned into violent shivering and you rushed to wrap yourself up in your sleeping bag. "Shit it's cold, damn." You grumbled, grabbing the ski suit you had tucked into the foot last night and wriggling the legs of it up over your base layer.

Karl, still a little confused from your kiss, just slid out of the lean-to after donning his boots. He almost welcomed the cold, it was bracing in a way. Grounding. Don't think about it.

"Bread should be in your pack, close to the top." You called when he moved to lower the two hanging bags from their lofty perch.

"Got it." Karl replied, slinging both packs over his shoulder so they didn't end up in the fresh powder on the ground. After setting the backpacks down in the lean-to, he quickly located the wrapped loaf of bread and handed it off to you, chuckling as you ripped the heel off the loaf and shoved it into your mouth. "Hungry this morning?"

You nodded, struggling to swallow momentarily. "It's tough, I feel like I'm always hungrier after other people's cooking." You admitted.

"Alright, well, let's get breakfast going before you eat the whole damn loaf." Don't think about it.

But gods, it was difficult. He coaxed the fire back to life and you toasted half the loaf in one go, your eyes so intent on the task it was nearly comical. Then came the last of the preserves you had brought, a little crystalline from being at the bottom of the jar but no less delicious. Karl got a little of the sticky substance in his mustache and you noticed it before he did, the man not realizing until you were wiping it clean with a soft laugh. "You always eat so fast! Nobody's going to take it from you, I promise."

Don't think about it, Karl reminded himself sternly on the trail later that day, finding his eyes wandering to your hips once more. Don't think about it, damn it all.

Things could be simple. He didn't need to ruin it by thinking about it, like he had done with everything else in his life. He could be happy like this, actually happy. So why the hell did he feel the need to think and subsequently shred his chances of existing peacefully?

You ruin everything you touch.

Heisenberg set his jaw tight enough to feel the ticking of his muscles. It felt too inevitable, too sinisterly obvious. He was going to do something to ruin this for himself. Maybe he already had set it in motion. He had put his hands on you, had touched you freely, and–

Don't think about it.

What more could he do, though? Without his title, without the want for his title, all he had now was worry, concern, and doubt. His closest friends throughout his life, crowding in once again to drown him with the ceaseless loop of regret. Not remorse, mind, Karl didn't believe remorse was a thing he could feel, but he could understand that he had done monstrous things and justified them in the name of taking down Miranda. Where his 'siblings' had treated their endeavors as the greater good, Heisenberg knew damn well that his goals were nothing so glamorous.

You ruin everything you touch.

His vision blurred and Heisenberg chose to stare at the ground for a very, very long time, focusing on his skis retreading the tracks from your own. Behind him the sled full of supplies continued to be pulled along, the runners carving deeper into the snow than either you or Karl's skis. While he was intent on this particular task the man made his most valiant effort yet to entirely turn his brain off and, to his relief, it seemed to work for a little while. No thinking about what he had done, no fear about what he might do. Just one foot in front of the other, over and over again until the two of you reached more familiar woodlands.

Home.

That jolted him out of his thoughtless respite, much to his dismay. It wasn't his home, his home was some mold-ridden hellpit and he knew that. No matter how far he strayed, no matter how much he tried to ignore or forget, that factory was his home. The village was his home, with its sullen gray skies and the taste of rust perpetually in his mouth.

You skied back to him, a smile on your face. Clearly you had noticed his flagging pace. "Almost home, Karl! Only a little further. You need a break? Snack?"

Home.

Karl gritted his teeth until they creaked under the pressure, uncertain if the taste of iron was from phantom rust or if he had just cracked a tooth. He forced himself to ease his posture, willed his jaw to loosen, and opened his mouth. "I'd like a snack, yeah. I'm starving." He confessed unexpectedly, the actual response he had intended to give being 'no let's just get this done'.

"You got it!" Slinging your pack around, you dug through until you seized another cardboard takeaway container. "From Rache, Marku's wife. She gave us some donuts. Or, wait no, they're called papanasi I think."

Papanasi. Karl's mind latched onto the familiar word just as hungrily as his hands latched onto the fried good. It returned something to him, in a strange way. A memory, or maybe a dream of a memory: someone handing a small, hungry child a warm treat.

Was he crying? Heisenberg cringed, trying to turn away so that you wouldn't see him wipe his eyes. He still flinched when you caught his arm but instead of berating him (or whatever the hell else he had been expecting), you simply used the end of your scarf to scrub at his cheek.

"There! You had a little smudge." You smiled at him and Karl managed to muster up a watery twitch of his lips in return, the man rushing to cram the rest of the treat into his mouth to save him from engaging in some form of conversation.

Home.

Part Nine

#karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #eventual romance #fix it fic #au #resident evil #re 8 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #re 8 karl heisenberg #slow burn #MAX HELP ME I'M FEELING

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rentumblsstuff · 1 month

Text

“Where do we go from here?”

~~~~

Pete and Steph lay on the very same football field that not even a week ago she had almost sacrificed him at. Who gives a fuck if they get grass stains on their nice homecoming clothes?

“Steph… For what it’s worth…”

“No. Please just… Silence. We came out here to get away from the loud music, so just…” Anything left to say dies on her tongue when Pete sits up next to her, propping himself up on one arm.

He ignores her pleading for silence. “I’m glad Max caught that bullet so I could take you to the dance.”

Steph’s eyes squeeze shut as if that would make her unhear what he said, forget what she experienced.

“You can’t just say stuff like that…” She muttered.

“But I just did.”

She opens her eyes slightly. Through tears threatening to spill, she can see him in the moonlight. He looks distantly sad, but still holds that same look he always has in his eyes when he looks at her. Like she’s the thing he treasures most.

“Where do we go from here?” She asked- more like pleaded- in a whisper so quiet it could’ve been silent.

“I don’t know, I haven’t exactly gone through this before,” he said in a lighthearted tone, hoping to get a smile out of her at the very least.

“The creepy evil gods part or the almost dying part?”

“The girl liking me part, but those too… If I knew I was too hot to be kept alive, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago…”

Steph scoffs a little, and it turns to a little chuckle. Pete joins in on the steadily rising laughter until he flops down next to her, unable to keep himself steady any longer. They laugh at just the pure absurdity of their situation- how the hell did it come to this?

Eventually, as laughter subsides, they turn their heads to face eachother, smiles gracing both of their faces and tears just barely being kept at bay. Steph’s eyes focus on his smile. His jaw is crooked, teeth just slightly imperfect, framed by soft looking lips, all culminating in a grin she hopes never gets taken from him ever again. Really soft looking lips…

“Have you ever been kissed before?” Steph asked him suddenly.

His eyes widen in shock, and he shakes his head no.

“I um… I’ve never had the opportunity…” He says, then realizes something. “Oh my god, I almost died without ever even getting kissed.” He starts to sit up, but before Steph realizes it, she’s sitting up on one arm and using her free hand to push his farther shoulder back down to the grass.

“I didn’t mean to send you into a spiral there, I just…” She finally processes the position they’re in. He’s laid down and she’s leaning over him. She can feel their hips touching if she can ignore the white-hot blushing suddenly overwhelming her face long enough to dare process the sensation. “I just wanted to know if I would be your first before I asked you to kiss me…”

He hesitates, but his smile returns and he laughs slightly. “You wanna know something stupid?”

“What?”

“I just almost asked you ‘Are you sure?’”

Stephanie snorts, and she drops her head down to rest her forehead on his shoulder. “You’re such a nerd, Spankoffski…”

#starkid #hatchetfield #npmd #peter spankoffski #stephanie lauter #lautski #wdym this isn’t what happened #imagine right before they kiss they hear Grace yelling ‘RUN YOU LITTLE BITCH’#they’d cry I think #‘NOT AGAIN’#lords in black #CTITIA Reprise #max jagerman

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formulas-bitch · 2 months

Text

THE DARK LORD charles leclerc x reader PART 4

2.1k words

this may be the final part as i am running out of ideas but i have more stuff saved and cant wait for everyone to read those too

happy reading

The night was cool and crisp, the air filling the tent with the scent of burning wood and the earthy aroma of newly turned soil. The stars twinkled brightly in the inky sky, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the camp. Our heroes, their bodies weary from the day's events, lay side by side on their makeshift bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling as they tried to find sleep.

Despite the late hour, they could still hear the distant sounds of the camp outside: the rustling of guards' armor, the low murmur of voices, and the occasional clang of metal on metal. Their minds were racing, trying to process the events of the day and what it all meant for the future.

The stars seemed to twinkle with an intensity that reflected the emotions churning within them. As they lay there, their bodies pressed tightly together, they felt an overwhelming sense of connection and purpose. They knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

A soft breeze found its way into the tent, rustling the canvas walls and sending tiny eddies of air swirling around their feet. It brought with it the scent of the nearby river, its icy waters flowing swiftly and silently through the night. They could hear the distant calls of creatures they had never encountered before, their cries echoing through the forest like ancient whispers.

The heroes continued to lie together, their bodies warm and comforting against each other's. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, and yet they found it impossible to drift off to sleep. Their minds were too full of thoughts, their hearts too heavy with the weight of responsibility. They knew that the choices they made in the days to come would have far-reaching consequences, not just for their people, but for the world.

As they lay there, lost in their own thoughts, they became aware of a soft rustling coming from the direction of the campfire. At first, they paid it no mind, but as the sound grew louder and more insistent, they became concerned. They exchanged glances, their faces creased with worry. Something was amiss.

Slowly, they sat up, their bodies tense and alert. The rustling grew louder still, and then, from the darkness beyond the fire, they heard a low growl. It was the sound of a predator, stalking its prey. Their hearts raced as they realized that whatever it was, it was headed straight for them.

In an instant, they were on their feet, drawing their weapons. The heroes peered into the darkness, their eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light. Shadows danced and twisted, making it impossible to discern the true form of the creature that stalked them. They glanced at each other, their faces pale with fear and determination. They would not go down without a fight.

The growl grew louder still, closer now. They could feel the hot breath of the beast on the back of their necks. With a start, they realized that it was no ordinary predator; it was the massive wolf that had attacked them earlier that day. Its fur was matted with blood, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light. It was clearly enraged, its every movement a testament to the power that coursed through its veins.

Our heroes exchanged glances, knowing that they could not hope to defeat the creature alone. They had faced adversity before, and always come out stronger on the other side. They would not break now. With newfound determination, they charged forward, rushing towards the wolf with Y/n hands glowing with powers and Charles sword drawn and shields raised. The wolf's head snapped up, its yellow eyes narrowing as it took in the approaching duo. It growled again, its massive jaws opening wide, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth.

The heroes closed the distance between them, their hearts pounding in their chests. As they drew near, the wolf's massive form towered over them, its fur bristling with anger. The heroes clashed with the beast, their weapons clanging against its thick hide. Swords were battered aside, shields shattered, spells were thrown, but still they fought on. Their strength and determination were matched only by the wolf's ferocity and unyielding will.

The battle raged through the camp, sending guards scrambling for safety and sending up clouds of dust. The ground shook with each blow as the heroes and the wolf traded blows, each one more powerful than the last. The air was filled with the clash of steel and coloured spells fired on fur, the growls of the beast, and the gasps of the exhausted combatants.

The wolf lunged at the heroes, its massive form almost engulfing them. They narrowly dodged the attack, springing back to opposite sides of the creature. As it turned its attention to Y/n, charles took the opportunity to deliver a powerful blow to the wolf's flank. Teeth gritted, he forced his sword deeper into its flesh, feeling the hot breath of the beast on his neck. The wolf howled in pain, its body bucking wildly, but it did not let go of its prey.

Meanwhile, Y/n struggled to keep the wolf's attention on her. She parried its claws and dodged its bites, her heart racing as she fought to stay alive. The battle raged on for what seemed like an eternity, the two heroes slowly weakening from exhaustion and blood loss. They could feel the ground shaking beneath them, the air growing thick with the stench of sweat and fear.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning split the sky, casting an eerie glow over the camp. In that brief moment, the heroes saw a figure standing nearby, watching them with a strange expression. As the lightning faded, they realized that it was another warrior, clad in the colors of their tribe. His sword was drawn, and he was preparing to join the fight.

The addition of the newcomer was enough to give the heroes fresh strength. They renewed their attack, pressing the wolf back with a combination of skill and sheer determination. The wolf growled in defiance, but it was clear that it was beginning to tire. Its movements grew sluggish, its breath coming in ragged gasps. The heroes took advantage of this, pressing their attack relentlessly.

The newcomer warrior joined the fray, his sword singing through the air as he moved with a grace and precision that belied his war-hardened appearance. he fought with a fury that matched the wolf's own, his eyes never leaving the beast as it struggled to keep its focus on the two heroes. The wolf howled in pain and frustration as it was forced to defend itself on multiple fronts.

Our heroes could feel the battle turning in their favor. They pressed their attack, pushing the wolf back with a renewed sense of purpose. The air grew thick with the sounds of clashing steel and the burst of spells and snarling beast. The ground shook as the three warriors danced around the enraged creature, their blades and spells a blur of motion and colours.

The wolf's coat was streaked with blood and and smoke, its sides heaving with each labored breath. It growled and snapped, but it could not break free from the relentless onslaught. The newcomer warrior moved with a grace that belied his battle-hardened form, his sword a whirlwind of death. The other two heroes fought in perfect synchrony, their movements almost telepathic.

As the battle raged on, the wolf began to weaken. Its attacks grew more desperate and less coordinated. It lunged at the heroes, only to be parried or dodged with ease. Its howls of pain and frustration echoed through the camp, piercing the hearts of the guards who cowered in fear.

The three warriors pressed their advantage, circling the wolf like a pack of hungry wolves. They moved in perfect unison, their blades and glowing hands a blur as they struck again and again at the beast's vulnerable flanks and exposed throat. The newcomer warrior danced with grace and power, his sword a living extension of his will. The other two heroes fought side by side, their movements as synchronized as if they had been born to fight together.

The wolf's struggles grew weaker, its eyes dulled by pain and fatigue. It snapped at the air, its jaws clacking pathetically as it sought purchase on its relentless attackers. Blood poured from its many wounds, staining the earth beneath it. With a final, desperate lunge, the wolf barley managed to sink its teeth into the leg of one of the heroes. But even as it fought to hold on, the other two heroes drove their blades deep into the beast's heart, ending its suffering. and with a final burst of power from Y/n's spell the wolf was disintegrated and was nothing but dust as the wind carried it away.

with the sudden use of power Y/n fell to her knees

"Y/n!" yelled charles as he run forward to catch his wife before she fell and hit her head on the ground.

the unknown soldier ran towards the dark lord and his wife

" WAIT do not move her. leave her laying down on the ground, we must take cover fast" screamed the unknown soldier

" i cant just leave her here you lunatick, she is my wife and why should i listen to you? i do not know eho you are" yelled Charles

" my name is Max i was sent here to help you my lord now u must listen to me it for all our protection" Max voiced

charles hesitantly followed max to a large tree and stood behind it.

all of a sudden a burst of energy wrappped around Y/n and lifted her off the ground as purple energy wrapped around her whole body and contuinied to get brighter and brighter

"Y/n!" screamed charles as max held him back

" my lord you need to wait and remain calm its all right" explained max

" how can i be calm when my wife is floating in some sort of energy unconsious huh? tell me" cried Charles

" its the child protecting her lady and healing her" Max explained

" what child ?" asked Charles

" my lord your child, your lady is with child" Max spoke

" how do you know she is with child" Charles questioned

" may i asked when my lady first used her power what colour it was my lord?" asked max

" green" answered Charles

" see when a women is with child their powers either go to purple or mix with their previous color, which in this case it seems to be a mix of purple, green and red" replied max

Charled was shocked, his wife, his Y/n was with his child

charles fell to his knees with tears in his eyes as he watches his wife being swormed with the three colours of energy as she slowly lowered to the ground

the dark lord is slowly snapped out of the trance he was in and hurried to his wife

"my love" Charles whispered as he caressed her cheek

slowly Y/n opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is her husbands green eyes

" mi amor your alright its ok, im here" whispered charles

" what happened? one seconed i was fighting the wolf the other iall i saw was darkness" cried Y/n

" its nothing my love its our child protecting their mother" cried out Charles happliy

" oh ok our child ....WAIT WHAT CHILD CHARLES!?" screamed Y/n

" darling your with child, max here tells us by the color of your powers my love" replied Charles

" we're having a child" whispered Y/n as happy tears fall from her eyes as she rushes to hus her husband

" slowly my love, u need to be careful you are carrying something very special now" laughed Charles

Y/n looks over to max and sees him smiling at the happy couple

" i do not know how to thank you sir Max you have saved me and my husaband from being slaughtered by that wolf. how can we ever repay you" Y/n spoke as she and Charles walked over to Max

" theres nothing really my lady, it is my duty to protect you and my lord" max said with a small smile

" well how about this, i Charles Leclerc the dark lord pronounce you Sir Max protector of my heir and my right hand man" Charles announced

Max stood there shock

" i... it would be my greatest honour my lord" max spoke happlily

" well there it is now lets gather everyone else and lets head home shall we my love?" charles questioned

" we shall" Y/N spoke

and so the heros gathered everyone else that survieved and headed back to the castle and slowly preparing for the arrival of the dark lords and his ladys child within a few months as Sir Max was assigned training the rest of the soldiers and new ones for any upcoming battles that may come their way

tag list:

barcelonaloverf1life

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

Note

Hiiiii! I would like to request <<person b trying to cook person a's fav dish>> with Max Lord please. I can see that flashback scene in WW84 with his business Blacc Gold Cooperative, trying to make everything perfect. Get well soon! Thanks so much!!

A rare Max Lord ask in the inbox!

Maxwell Lord knows he’s worthless.

He hides those feelings underneath a glib façade, a blustering bravado. He talks a good game. He schmoozes with the best of them. And yet, when he goes to sleep each night, he knows that he’s nobody special. He’s nobody of substance; he’s just an empty shell in a slick suit.

And if he was nobody before the Dreamstone, before Black Gold went bankrupt, then what is he now?

He’s less than nobody now.

He lives in a shitty apartment in Baltimore, and he works a shitty job in a grey cubicle. He sees his son every other weekend. His nice cars, his private plane, his fancy suits and giant mansion? All gone.

Despite it all, he found you: his neighbor in his shitty apartment complex, a sweet, gorgeous woman who teaches at the nearby university. You know who he is, what he’s done…and you still seem to like him. You haven’t broken up with him yet.

Which is why he’s struggling right now. It’s your birthday, and the old Max would have taken you on a shopping trip in New York, or flown you to Paris, or taken you out to the most exclusive restaurant on the eastern seaboard. New Max doesn’t have that option, so he tries his best and plans an entire evening in.

The plan? Cook your favorite meal. Use your favorite flowers as a centerpiece. Open a bottle of your favorite wine. Then watch your favorite movie on VHS before taking you to bed. It’s all supposed to be a surprise, but when you walk through the door that evening, the plan is in shambles.

Your favorite meal is a charred mess smoking in the sink. Your favorite flowers—wildflowers he picked along the river—are limp and already shedding pedals. He punched through the cork in your wine and ruined it. And Blockbuster was out of their only copy of “All About Eve.”

When you walk through the door that evening, you find Max sitting on the floor of your kitchen, his head in his hands.

He waits for you to break up with him. He waits for the words—stupid, worthless—to fall from your mouth the way they’ve fallen from everyone else’s mouths. He waits for cruel laughter at his pitiful attempt to make your birthday special despite having no money, no talent. It’s just like those pathetic early days with Black Gold, how hopeful and naïve he’d been, how stupid—

“This seat taken?” you ask quietly, and you don’t wait for him to respond before you sink down onto the linoleum beside him.

“Rough day?” you ask, and your voice is still quiet, but you’re right beside him. A beat later and he feels it—your hand brushing his hair away from his face, then a gentle press of your lips to his temple. Then you settle your head against his shoulder and just…sit. You just sit with him, neither of you speaking for a long moment.

“Just wanted to make it special for you,” he finally says, and his voice is rough with emotion. Frustration. Sadness. Everything bubbling up at once, everything he’s pushed down…it’s all threatening to come out now.

“Who says it isn’t special?”

He scoffs, gestures helplessly around you.

“You know, my last boyfriend never even thought to make me dinner for my birthday. So, if I say it’s the thought that counts…that’s the truth,” you tell him.

“The thought means nothing,” he snaps. “It’s action, results…thoughts are worthless.”

This should make you break up with him too: him getting snippy and edging against an argument. But you don’t rise to the bait. You settle your head against his shoulder again, and you tell him a story about your childhood, how your mother had been in the hospital for your eighth birthday, how your father was away for work. How it seemed that no one remembered your special day until a girl in your neighborhood—older than you, far cooler than you—saw you crying on your front porch.

“She was a high schooler,” you explain softly. “Literally the coolest girl in the neighborhood. She dressed like Stevie Nicks and had a voice like Blondie. I was just a little dork that no one noticed, but she did. She was driving past in her beat-to-shit Beetle and saw me sitting alone and crying, and you know what she did?”

“What?”

“She asked me what was wrong, and when I told her, she drove away.”

Max scoffs again. That sounds right to him. The world is a cruel place.

“And then ten minutes later, she came back,” you continue. “She went to Dairy Queen and got me a banana split. Remember those giant banana splits they used to make? She bought one and sat on my porch and we ate it together. She didn’t have a candle, so she held up her lighter and made me blow it out.”

“That’s really sweet,” he tells you, begrudgingly.

You shift your head from his shoulder and you reach out, grip his chin lightly. You turn his face and make him look at you.

“It’s the thought that counts, Max,” you say, and your voice is more stern now. “Being seen? Being remembered? That means more than any gift or whatever is smoldering right now in the sink.”

“It’s a soufflé. Or was.” As bad as he feels, he can’t help but smile at you.

You roll your eyes. “Why on earth would you try to bake me a soufflé? You can barely boil water.”

“I thought—” he starts, and then he catches himself, realizes what he’s saying. You catch it too, and you grin back at him.

“See? You thought of me. You see me. That’s all I need from you.”

He wants to say that you deserve so much more—diamonds and designer dresses and expensive purses and luxurious trips to exotic locales—but you don’t let him reply. You lean forward and kiss him, and the feeling of your mouth on his does what it always does: it pushes the anxious thoughts away, makes the self-doubt melt under the ardor with which you kiss him.

“Now c’mon,” you say once you break away from him. You stand up and offer your hand, and you help him stand too. “There’s a Dairy Queen three blocks from here. You’re buying me a banana split, and you’re gonna eat the pineapple bits because I hate pineapple.”

#ask game #max lord #maxwell lord #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord x reader #wonder woman 1984 #tropes and tales

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absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

The Election {Max Lord x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: People being assholes, comments about physical appearance, politicians, public sex, protected sex, public scandal

Comments: Meeting Senator Max Lord in the diner where you work one night leads to a very unusual arrangement. Sex behind the building. Changing both of your lives in a very real way.

A/N: Thot based off this filthy gif but is no way representative of the reader.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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.

You sigh, wiping down the table after the teenagers had effectively thrown every single fry on the floor and squirted ketchup all over the table. You had told them to stop but they just laughed at you before they left. They didn’t leave a tip. You toss the dirty rag into the bowl in the kitchen, leaning against the counter just beside the window that looks out into the diner. “You’ll never guess who just sat down in your section.” Sally says, appearing through the swinging door, and you frown, turning your head to look into your section.

“Who’s that?” You frown.

“Senator Maxwell Lord. He’s running for re-election.” Sally declares and you scoff, adjusting your apron.

“I don’t follow politics.”

Sally sighs, “you should. He really is dreamy. Single dad too. It’s hot. A powerful man.”

You snort, “sounds like you should go serve him.”

Sally shakes her head, “no. Hopefully he tips well. You need it more than me. Go.” She orders and you push on the door to make your way over to your section, approaching the Senator sitting at the table.

Max sighs and looks down at the menu, the selection here a lot better than the greasy spoons he has been visiting while he’s been on the campaign trail. Bypassing the burgers because he didn’t want to have anyone, mainly the man sitting opposite him, commenting about the cholesterol or how unhealthy he was eating. The California grilled chicken sandwich looks good but he damn sure is going to get the fries. “Now we have a campaign stop tomorrow morning and we need to make sure that you make an appearance at the children’s hospital. Kiss a few sick kids, make a donation that is in full view of the cameras.”

Max rolls his eyes at his campaign manager, shaking his head at how callous he sounds, visiting sick kids for political visibility. “No.” He tells him. “I will donate privately and you can photograph me going into the hospital but if the parents don’t want their kids photos taken, that’s it.” He warns the overeager man. “No persuading them. Those kids are sick and shouldn’t be exploited for votes.”

You walk over, brushing down your apron, and you pull your notepad out, grabbing the pen from behind your ear. “Good afternoon.” You tell the two men your name before asking what they want to drink. “Diet Coke.” Both men say and you nod, “no problem. I’ll be right back with those and then I’ll take your order.” The dark eyes of the senator focus on you and you find it a little hard to breathe with how handsome he is. Clearly well groomed with his expensive suit and watch that costs more than your car to appear in charge and ready to lead. A true politician.

Watching you walk away, Max ignores the assessing hum of the other man as he admires the curve of your ass. It’s been a long time since he’s really noticed a woman. First he was going through his divorce and then it was lack of availability. Anyone around him was off limits, he wasn’t going to be that kind of politician. No matter what, he didn’t want a sex scandal undermining the kind of change he was trying to bring about.

You bring the drinks back, setting them down and ignoring the appraising look from the man in the blue suit. The kind brown eyes are deceptive considering his career in politics. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask.

“Are you on the menu?” The blue suit man winks and you offer him a tight smile.

“No. I am not. Only food available in a diner. I can tell you the specials though.”

He’s already decided what he wants but he smiles at you, the charming one that he uses on the campaign trail set aside for one that is grateful and almost hesitant. “Please.” He just wants to hear you talk, enjoying the way your voice sounds. “Your specials. What you would eat here.”

You are a little taken back, “oh, okay. Um, the specials are a double cheeseburger with bacon and a fried egg served with fries. We also have a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and a red wine jus. I could go with the burger.” You tell the senator with a wink.

He gives you a slow smile, enjoying the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at your playful wink. “Then I’ll have the burger, no mayo please.” He asks, “but I wouldn’t mind extra ketchup.” He winks back at you just as playfully.

You offer him a soft smile, sensing how charismatic he is, and you write down his order just as his companion says, “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad. Maxwell. You shouldn’t have the burger. You need to watch your weight. Maybe the waitress should too.” His blue eyes look at you, and your jaw drops.

“Excuse me?” You balk.

“Just sayin’ you might want to cut out the burgers and maybe get a boob job. Might get you out of this shithole diner.” He shrugs.

You scoff, “I’ll put your order in and maybe I can find the number of a dick extension doctor. You seem like you need one.” You snort, spinning on your heel to head into the kitchen, absolutely fuming at the audacity of the man.

“Jackson.” Max shakes his head at his campaign manager and frowns. “What the hell are you doing?” He huffs. “That was completely uncalled for, you- you know what?” He leans back and stares at the man. “Go back to the bus and make sure my speech is ready for tomorrow. I’ll get your food to go and bring it back to you.” Jackson huffs and argues with him for a few minutes but Max is adamant and the other man shuffles out of the restaurant.

You come back with the plates, still annoyed at the prick in the suit. “Where’s your friend? In the bathroom looking at himself in the mirror?” You ask, setting the senator’s burger down in front of him before you slam the chicken salad down on the table.

“He’s - he’s not my friend.” Max shuffles slightly and bites his lip. “I want to apologize for him, he’s my campaign manager and was completely out of line.” He apologizes. “What he said was wrong, you don’t need to lose weight, or a boob job.” He flushes when he realizes what he said and flusters. “I- I mean…You are perfect - perfectly fine just the way you are.”

You fluster at his words, his dark eyes are kind and you know you’re going to look him up when your shift ends. “Uh, thank you. Ketchup is over there.” You point at the bottle, “and I can pack up the salad for your…campaign manager. I just - I hope you don’t have the same morals as him. Especially if you’re gonna be representing this state.” You tilt your head.

“Well, I’ve already been representing the state, but I hope to continue to do so.” He admits. “But no, I don’t have the same morals as he does. I want to be honest and transparent with what I can do for my constituents and what I hope to accomplish for our state.”

You bite your lip, “I- I don’t really follow politics. I didn’t - I didn’t know who you were until my coworker told me.” Your confession has you glancing around the diner. “I’m just saying you might want a new campaign manager. One who isn’t an asshole.”

Max chuckles and leans back in the booth, throwing his arm along the back as he appraises you, enjoying how you speak your mind. “You know any good ones?” He asks, actually delighted you didn’t know who he was or have ten thousand questions that he needed to carefully answer so he wasn’t misquoted. “I wish we could just skip all the b.s. and just run off our principles.”

You chuckle, “unfortunately my Rolodex of campaign managers is empty. Surely the world would be a better place if politicians just told the truth? Although I doubt the population wants to hear it. I just don’t get involved in politics, I have too much of my own b.s going on to care.” You tell him honestly, “I’ll let you eat your meal.” You realize he hasn’t touched his burger.

“Again, I’m sorry he was an ass.” He tells you as he reaches for the bottle of ketchup. “The burger looks delicious and I’m sure you are busy enough without taking up more of your time.” He knows you have other tables, he actually enjoys that he isn’t special. Right now he is just a patron eating a burger.

You nod, walking away from him and you can feel his eyes on you. “Sooo how is the senator? Think he’s gonna leave a big tip?” Sally asks, and you chuckle.

“No. I- he’s…sweet. Not what I expected. His campaign manager is a dick but he’s nice. He seems like he actually wants to do some good.” You say as you lean against the counter and Sally raises her eyebrows.

“A politician who seems nice? Alert the media.” She jokes.

It’s rare that he isn’t wolfing down his food or having a working dinner. So it’s honestly a treat to be able to take his time and eat. He can’t help but watch you though. His eyes find you around the diner as he watches you go about your tasks, refilling drinks and serving customers. You are graceful and quite frankly beautiful. It’s been a long time since he’s met a woman so pretty and he’s honestly finding it hard to look away from you.

You eventually come back around to grab Max’s plate, taking it before you look down at him. “Looks like you enjoyed it.” You tease, glancing at the empty plate. He blushes a little and you think it’s cute. He’s cute. Sally said his wife had divorced him, too focused on her own career to go on the road with him.

“I did.” He nods and looks around. “I will have to bring Alistair here. My son.” He clarifies with a small smile as he thinks about the boy. “He loves a good cheeseburger and I spotted milkshakes on the menu.” He chuckles. “He would want a double chocolate.”

You smile, “you’ll have to bring him by. Cheeseburger and chocolate shake.” You tap your head, “I’ll try and remember in case you come back. Here’s your check.” You tell him, setting it down. “There’s no rush. Your…campaign managers salad has been wrapped up. I’ll give it to you when you leave.”

The bill is reasonable, and he wants to make sure that he leaves a good tip, especially because you had to deal with Jackson’s bullshit. Max digs out his wallet and slides the bills under the check and stands. Catching your attention with a smile. “I’ll take that box for him, even if he deserves to starve.” He jokes and gives you a tiny wink.

You nod, grabbing the takeout box with the salad from the counter. “Hope he doesn’t choke on the lettuce.” You snort flippantly.

Max offers you a wry smile, “knowing him he won’t eat it and will have a cigarette instead.”

You roll your eyes, “of course. Well…good luck Senator Lord.” You offer him a smile and he nods, “thank you.” You watch him leave, biting your lip as you realize how broad he is, and you wonder if he will be back. Shaking your head, you make your way over to the table, grabbing the check and when you cash it out, your eyes widen when you see the fifty dollar tip. “Holy shit.” You curse, eying the money before you put it in your apron, torn on whether to accept it or not. You know he’s gone so you won’t be able to return it. Maybe you can donate it. You need the money but this is a lot. Deciding to figure it out later, you get back to work.

Max thinks about that burger all day, deciding that he’s going to order them back to the diner from yesterday, he walks over to the driver. “I want to go back to the restaurant from last night.” He tells him. “Just me and one of the security guards.”

You look up as the bell rings above the door, your eyes widening slightly when you see Senator Lord walk in with a buff looking man wearing a suit - his security you’re assuming. “Hey. Table for two?” You ask, grabbing a couple of menus.

Shaking his head, Max gives you a smile. “No, Gunther doesn’t like sitting with me.” He tells you. “He’ll sit at the bar and order nothing, just to make himself seem more intimidating.” He jokes, knowing the man will at least order a coffee. But he doesn’t eat while he is out with Max so he can be alert. “I had to come back for another burger.”

You chuckle, setting one menu down before you guide Max to a booth in your section. “Diet Coke?” You ask, and he nods, smiling at you. You love how he blushes a little when you take his menu, his fingers brushing yours. “So you left me way too much money last time.” You say as you set his drink down after submitting his order to the kitchen. You take the money out of your apron and set it down on the table.

Max frowns and looks down at the money before he shakes his head and pushes it back towards you. “I know how much I left. You deserve it.” He murmurs, nodding towards it. “You were a lot more graceful than you should have been to my campaign manager and I know you work hard - like everyone in the service industry.”

Your jaw drops slightly, taken back by his genuine response. You know that most politicians would pull the same act to try and win over another voter but the gesture seems genuine. You pick up the money and tuck it into your apron, tilting your head at him. “You don’t seem like most politicians. You seem…real. Is that genuine or are you just that good an actor?” You ask, deciding to call him out on it.

Laughing at your brazen question, he shakes his head. “Not an actor.” He promises, giving a small shrug. “I grew up poor, very poor. I just know how the little people struggle while everyone else overlooks them.” He explains. “My mother cleaned houses and would cry if her clients would even leave an extra five dollars to tip her. It meant she could eat lunch that week too.”

You are taken back by his answer, figuring he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You smile at him, “not what I expected but I’m glad to hear you are not one of those upper class assholes looking to make money while pretending to work for his constituency.” He chuckles and you smile again, “I’ll go get your burger when it’s ready.”

Max looks around then diner again, watching a family have their meal while they interact with their two kids. That’s what he wants to work for, a family. The average people who just want to live a good life and raise their kids in a safe world. His own son counted amongst them.

You come back over with his burger, grateful your shift is nearly over with how bad your feet are aching, and you set it down along with the bottle of ketchup, remembering what he said about wanting extra. You look at him for a moment before you fluster, a little lost in his dark gaze, before you walk off to get him another refill on his soda.

When you bring the soda back Max motions to the seat across from him. “Sit down?” He asks, slightly shy but wanting to have you sit with him for a bit. “The diner isn’t very busy and I’m enjoying our banter.” If you say no, he will respect that, but he hopes you don’t.

You glance around the diner, seeing it’s quiet and your shift is nearly over, so you nod and take a seat. “So…must be lonely on your campaign bus, going from city to city.” You observe, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Max nods. “Living in hotels or on the bus for weeks at a time isn’t as glamorous as you would think.” He admits. “I miss the simplicity of just sleeping in the same bed every night.” He chuckles. “It actually makes me miss D.C. when we are in session.” He jokes.

You chuckle, “wow. Must be bad. Guess it’s worse when you don’t have someone traveling with you to share your bed at night.” You are a little forward but you think he’s cute and honestly? It’s been a while for you. Not since your asshole of an ex cheated on you.

“Don’t I know it.” Max groans before he stops himself. He clears his throat and blushes slightly and looks away. “I just- there aren’t a lot of opportunities to meet someone new and I refuse to be another senator to has a fucking sex scandal to take away from the real issues.” He explains, hoping you don’t mind the language that slips out.

You hum in agreement, taking note of his broad shoulders. “What if - what if you were guaranteed that no one would know?” You ask cautiously, waiting for his reaction while you lean forward, offering him a glimpse down your button down dress the owner wants you to wear.

Max’s eyes drift down to your cleavage and then back up to your face. “I’m a red blooded man.” His voice is raspy, thicker than it had been before. “I’m not opposed to sex, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of the women that work on my campaign or my staff.” He clarifies. “I meet a beautiful woman and sex happens…well, hopefully she enjoys herself.”

“And if I say that my shift ends in ten minutes which seems to be enough time for you to eat and perhaps, you could come find me outside after you’ve paid your check?” You ask casually, tilting your head at him. He’s hot, the raspy tone in his voice has your thighs pressed together, and you can’t deny the thrill of fucking him without anyone knowing except the two of you is exhilarating.

Max blows out a breath, cock twitching and he watches your eyes to make sure your offer is genuine. “I would say that I will see you outside in 9 and a half minutes.” He promises, looking down at his food with a grin. “Maybe even nine minutes.”

You grin, “see you in nine minutes Senator.” You wink and stand up, swaying your hips as you walk away from his table without looking back. The next nine minutes drags by and you watch the seconds tick down as he scoffs his burger, eagerly slapping down some cash when he pays. You giggle, walking over to him to grab the bill. “Meet me outside in the alley.” You whisper, leaning closer as you pick up the cash. “Change?” You ask breathlessly. He shakes his head, barely able to breathe, and you smirk as you carry the check over to close it out before you clock out.

Max walks over to his guard and murmurs in his ear. All of the team that surrounds him have NDAs so he doesn’t have to worry about the man talking. The worst he could say was the the senator had sex with a woman in an alley. All consensual, but in public. Still, he needs to be aware of where Max is going. He nods, telling Max that he will be in the car. Swallowing, Max exits the diner and walks around the back, already starting to harden at the mere prospect of touching you.

You shove your apron in your locker and grab your purse, shouting a goodbye to your coworkers before you make your way outside to the alley where Maxwell is waiting. It’s dark outside now, the moon in the sky and it gives an intimate atmosphere to your rendezvous despite being by the dumpsters.

Max looks up from where he was staring at the condom in his hands, watching you walk up to him. “Lucky I had one of these.” He jokes, holding it up and biting his lip as you walk closer. “Fuck, you look pretty.” He groans. “Thought so from the very beginning.”

You stride towards him, loving how sweet he is and the fact that he has a condom in his wallet is endearing. He probably had to check it wasn't expired. You grip the back of his neck, dragging him towards you. "You're too fucking cute. Want you to fuck me, use me for your frustrations." You order before pressing your lips to his.

Max groans, quickly kissing you back and reaching up to cup the back of your neck to press into you. It’s been years since he’s had sex, as shameful as that is. His ex was the last woman he was with, concentrating on his career and Alistair when he has him. However, his body definitely remembers what to do, quickly pressing you against the wall of the diner and kissing down your throat, his hands sliding under your dress.

You gasp when he nips on the skin between your neck and your shoulder. “Fuck, Max.” You moan, snaking your hand between you to cup his hard cock through his expensive slacks. You whimper when his hands squeeze your ass, pulling you against him. “Want- want your fingers.” You confess, grinding against him.

His fingers dip under the band of your panties, practical cotton, but to him they are sexy. Parting your curls, his thick digits slide through your folds and he moans when he finds your clit and starts rubbing as he kisses down your chest and his teeth graze the top of your cleavage. “God.” He breathes out. “So fucking pretty.”

Moaning, you grind down onto his fingers, and you unbuckle his fancy belt, flicking the button his pants before you can reach in to grip his cock. “Fuck. You’re so thick.” You moan, pulling him out of his pants. His fingers work your clit and you are breathless at how good it feels already.

Groaning at your hand on his cock, he throbs for you. “Shit.” He hisses. Quickly twisting his wrist so he can sink two fingers into your thankfully wet cunt, he licks the top of your bra, wetting the white material and your skin underneath it.

“Oh God. Max, that- that feels good. Gonna make me cum.” You whine, grinding down onto his fingers and your grip on his cock slackens. It’s been so long since you had something other than your own fingers. “Fuck. Oh shit.” You hiss, trying to keep quiet as you clamp down on his thick digits.

He smothers his own whine against your skin, keeping his fingers pumping and moving in your gasping cunt. “That’s it. That’s it.” He croons quietly. Marveling at how tight you were squeezing them and soaking them with your pleasures. Your top finally opens and he bites down on your nipple over the material of your bra and sucks harshly with a groan as he works you through it.

You squeeze his cock, ready for you and you are now ready for him. “Come on baby. Want you inside of me.” You beg, gently pushing him back before you reach into his jacket pocket for the condom. Ripping it open before you roll it down his length.

Max groans and pushes you back against the wall. He reaches down and grips your leg and lifts it up over his hip. “You want me inside you, baby?” He asks, grasping his cock and starting to guide himself towards your cunt as you move your panties to the side.

You keep your panties to the side, gasping when he pushes into you. “Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.” You hiss, tilting your head back as he fills you up, stretching your walls. “Max. Max, baby. Fuck me.” You plead, gripping his neck.

Shuddering at the feel of your nails digging into the back of his neck. Making him hiss and drag his hips back to snap them forward again, burying his cock back in your heat. “Fuck.” Growling, he leans and presses his lips to yours while starting to thrust in and out of your cunt.

You cling to him, pressed against the wall as he thrusts into you with a hiss. “So good Max. Feel so damn good. I- I want - I want more.” You murmur against his lips. Rocking up onto your tip toes so he can thrust deeper into you with a moan. “God yes. Yes. Right there.” You groan when he hits deep to find a delicious spot inside of you.

One hand holding your legs, the other braced on the wall, Max tries to keep hitting that spot with every jolt of his hips. Moaning and grunting at how you tighten around him. He’s not done anything like this in forever and it feels like fucking Heaven. “Jesus, fuck.” He pants, leaning his forehead against yours while you take his cock again and again.

You reach up to cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth back to yours as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna- Max. Maxxxx.” You squeal against his mouth, clamping down on his cock as you cum.

Max pants out your name, nearly whining it as he continues to rock into you, working you through your high. The loud sounds of your fucking practically echoes around the small area you are tucked into. “Shit.” His hips stutter and he can’t only give another four or five thrusts before he is burying himself deep and filling the condom with his seed with a moan of your name.

You caress his neck, loving the way his jaw clenches as he rocks his way through his high before he stills inside of you. "God, that was good." You sigh, kissing his nose, unable to help yourself when you've imagined it far too many times.

“Yes it was.” Max’s breathing starts to slow down as he enjoys the last moments of closeness before he carefully grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you. Putting your leg down and taking it off to tie a knot in it before throwing it in the dumpster. “Going to sleep like a baby tonight.”

You chuckle, "I bet you are. I'm happy to serve the state." You wink at him and reach out to pull him close one last time, pressing your lips to his. "So...uh, I guess you gotta get back?" You murmur, shifting from one foot to the other. It's a little awkward now the lust has been satiated.

Max nods, hating it, but he does have to strategize and call Alistair in the morning before school. “Do you need a ride home?” He asks, wanting to spend a few more minutes with you if he could.

You shake your head, "no. I can get the bus. I'll be fine." You tell him, picking your purse up from the floor and you turn to look at him.

"You aren't taking the bus." He insists and you shake your head.

"I- I don't have a car. I can't afford a car." You tell him, biting your lip.

“Then let me take you home.” Max implores. “Please.” He wants to make sure you get home safely and he knows that the public transportation can take forever to get you where you need to go. “Get you home quickly and into a bath with a glass of wine before you would normally be home.” He adds, trying to sweeten the offer.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should accept the ride home and make more of this than it really is: a hook up. You smile and nod, “that sounds wonderful. Yes, I’d like a ride home.” You lean closer to kiss his cheek.

“Good.” Max smiles and puts his hand on your back as the two of you walk down the alley. If Gunther is surprised to see you with Max, he doesn’t show it. Opening the door, Max motions for you to climb into the back seat of the SUV before he climbs in beside you. “I’m glad you let us take you home, it’s getting late.”

You glance out the window before you look back at Maxwell. “I’m used to taking the bus. I- my car broke down and I couldn’t afford to fix it so I had to change to taking the bus. If I end up doing a night shift, I usually just walk home because the bus isn’t running.” You confess, knowing it’s not safe but you don’t have any other options. You tell the driver where to go.

“Jesus.” Max shakes his head, knowing that if he hadn’t insisted on taking you home that you would be walking home. “I- my schedule is tight but I can send the man who works on my cars over to look at it?” He offers, wanting to help however he could. “Otherwise, I would look at it myself.” You give him a startled look and he chuckles. “I worked my way through college working in a mechanics shop.”

You tilt your head, “you did? Wow. You are way more than you appear, Maxwell Lord.” You reach over to take his hand in yours. “Thank you. I- I would really appreciate you doing that. I- I need my car back. Pepper spray only goes so far.” You chuckle awkwardly and squeeze his hand.

Max squeezes your hand back, proud of being able to help you. It’s a good feeling almost as good as the first time he had signed a bill that became law. “We’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that from now on.” He promises. “He’s a miracle worker with cars.”

You kiss the back of his hand after lifting it to your mouth. “You’re a good man. You’ve got my vote.” You joke, offering him a wink before you give the driver another direction to turn onto your street. Thankfully you didn’t live too far away from the diner.

Max honestly wishes you lived farther away so he could spend more time with you. Instead he feels the car pull to a stop, turning to see the older apartment building. He could tell that it wasn’t newer but hopefully the owners kept up with maintenance. “Well, I take it you are home. I hope you have a good night.” He offers softly.

“You too. I’ll see you around Senator Lord.” You offer him one last wink before his driver opens the door to let you out and you make your way into your builder.

Gunther meets Max’s eyes in the rear view mirror after the car is rolling down the street. “You know Jackson is gonna kill you for this.” Gunther warns his boss.

Max gives a small shrug, a smile playing on his lips. “Let him try.” He murmurs. “She is exactly what I needed tonight and Jackson needs to remember he works for me, not the other way around.” He looks back towards your building behind him and huffs. “Might be my new favorite place to eat.”

“The diner or the lady?” Gunter jokes, making Max blush and look out the window. He knows he will be back, it’s just a question of when.

****

It’s been three weeks since you saw Max and you can’t help but think he got what he wanted and now he’s never coming back. You ignore the questions from your coworkers, all of them guessing he kissed you, none of them daring to assume he fucked you in the alleyway.

You don’t divulge the dirty details, wanting to keep your secret romp with Max just that to preserve his integrity and yours. However, with each day that passes, you can’t help but want to talk to someone about it to get some advice. You don’t have the man’s phone number and even if you did, he’s on the road so much you’d probably go straight to the answer machine.

Max sighs, tired after three weeks on the road. He has been to several diners that reminded him of yours, but his spirits lift when he sees the sign for the little greasy spoon he has come to dream about. More specifically the alleyway behind it and the sexy yet sweet waitress.

Smiling when the bell rings out when he opens the door, the woman closest to him turns to greet him. “Can I sit in her section?” He asks, nodding to where you are bringing out plates to a table of what looked like truckers. “Please.”

You turn your head to see Max walking towards you and you can't stop the silly smile that appears on your face. You might've been scouring the tv guide and local news for any interviews with him and you had thought about him every time your hand was between your thighs. "Here you go fellas." You tell the truckers, setting their meals down before you walk over to the table Max sat down at. "Hey stranger." You smile, "Diet Coke and a burger?" You guess.

Max’s grin is answering your own, but there is a devilish twinkle in his eyes. He nods, leaning in. “It will have to do for now, since what I want isn’t exactly on the menu.” He murmurs where no one else can hear him. He has been thinking about you probably every day, definitely every time he had his hand wrapped around his cock. “So I guess I will have to stick with the food.” He winks at you playfully. “How have you been?”

Your stomach twists in anticipation about what he really wants and you bite your lip. "Not too bad. Busy with work as always. Been thinking about this senator...he does this amazing thing with his hips." You whisper with a smirk, writing down his order. "I'll be right back with your soda." You wink, walking away and swaying your hips until you feel his gaze burning into you.

Gunther is at the bar again, sitting there as Max admires your figure. He had immediately told the guard that he wanted to come to the diner over the objections of his campaign manager, but he had just ignored that. He was free from any meet and greets, town hall meetings or campaign trail stops for the next week and he had wanted to see you before he did anything else. Hoping that you weren’t too upset that he hasn’t been in. He had forgotten to give you a number to reach him at. When you bring the Diet Coke back he notices that you don’t seem as tired. “So I heard that my guy was able to get your car back on the road for you.”

You hover near his table, nodding and offering him a smile. "Yes. Yes. He was great. It's so nice to have my car back. I wanted to reach out to you to thank you but I didn't have a number for you." You confess, shifting from one foot to the other and you look into those dark eyes that have haunted you. "Thank you. Really, you - you have no idea how much easier my life is now I don't have to take the bus or walk."

“I should have given you my number.” He’s happy you don’t have to worry about getting home from work now. He had not been thrilled about you walking home alone at night, and it was something he had told his guy when he sent him over there. Get your car on the road no matter what it costs. You didn’t have to worry about the bill, he would have paid it, but luckily it was just a spark plug. Although he had gone through the car to check more than that and did a tune up on it for you. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. “Personal number’s on the back.”

You carefully take the card from him, admiring the gold, and you bite your lip. “I’ve never had the personal number of a senator before.” You tease, tucking the card into your apron. The truckers call you over, asking for more coffee, and you glance back at Max before you go to grab the pot. After satisfying the truckers, you grab Max’s burger and set it down in front of him. “How’s your son?” You ask, wanting to extend your time together.

He grins, thinking about his son. Despite the divorce and his ambitions, he wanted to be a good father to Alistair. He chuckles. “I’m going to go pick him up tonight. Have him spend the night and take him to school tomorrow.” The campaign trail was hard because he spent a lot of time away from him, not wanting to drag him away from his routine, despite what Jackson wanted. His son wasn’t going to be a pawn to get votes. “Pizza and the newest movie he wants to watch is on the menu.”

You grin, “membership card to Blockbuster, huh?” You snort, imagining Max in his pristine suit picking out a movie with his son. “I like that you put your son first. Not many fathers would do what you do and still try to be present for their child. I, uh, I like you. A lot.” You confess, biting your lip as you look towards the table of truckers who are leaving after paying their checks.

“I like you too.” Max answers easily. “A lot.” He sees the money on the table and jerks his chin over to it. “Go pocket your tip.” He urges you. “I’ll be here when you get done. Until you have a break even.” He tells you, voice slipping a bit lower and rougher. He wanted to see you mostly, but now that he’s seen you, he wants to touch you again.

You shiver at the roughness in his tone, nodding before you make your way over to the now empty table, pocketing your tip before you clean up the plates. Once you’ve finished wiping down the table it’s time for your break and you see Max has finished eating. “Come on baby. Meet me in the alleyway.” You whisper as you walk past, waiting for him to follow you.

Max gets up, making like he is going to go down the hallway and use the bathroom. Gunther sees him of course, smirking to himself and the senator as he walks by. But Max doesn’t pay him any attention, eager to meet you in the alleyway despite it being broad daylight.

You giggle when Max slams the door open and grabs you, pressing you up against the wall, his lips immediately finding yours. You moan into his mouth, gripping the lapels of his expensive jacket, his tongue sliding into your mouth when you gasp. The door to the alleyway swings open and you push Max away when his security guard appears. Maxwell turns his head to look as Gunther lights a cigarette. “Just want to make sure no one watches. Carry on. I am gonna have a smoke.” He says, turning his back.

He waits for you to protest, to tell you that there is no way that you can have sex with him while his security is here. When he doesn’t hear a sound of protest, Max chuckles and leans in to kiss you again. “Thought about you for three weeks.�� He groans, biting down your throat again. He has a condom in his pocket again and he presses his hard cock against your hip. “Tell me I can fuck you? Tell me that you’ve been thinking about it.” He begs quietly.

You whine, “yes. Yes, please. You’re all I’ve thought about. I’m wet just thinking about how you felt inside of me.” You confess, reaching down to grab his hand. You slide it under your dress to your panties, showing him how wet you already are.

Max groans, pushing the fabric aside so he can slide his fingers through your slick folds. “Fuck.” He pushes a finger inside you. “You want me to fuck you right here again?” He asks. “Make sure you come back to work feeling good from cumming?”

“Yes. Yes. Want- want you to fuck me. You- you felt so good last time.” You pant, pushing his hand out of your panties so you can push them down, turning around after pulling your dress up. You look over your shoulder at him, “please Max. Fuck me.”

“Fuck.” Max hisses and pulls the condom out of his pocket to put between his teeth, tearing at his belt. His cock is already aching to be buried inside you. A quick glance at Gunther’s back ensures the man is watching for the two of you as he rips open the foil wrapper and quickly rolls the rubber down his length.

You gasp when the head of his cock nudges your clit before he notches the head at your entrance, pushing into you in one thrust. “Fuck. Oh fuck Max. Feels so good. Already. Feels so fucking good.” You moan, trying to grind back onto him as your forearms are scratched by the brick wall.

Gripping your hip, Max moans his agreement. “Fuck.” He hisses, pulling back to surge into you again. “Jerked off thinking about this, about you.” He confesses, grinding deep and loving the way that you clench around him. Your panting moans make him want to cum right now but he wants to make sure you cum before he does.

“Never felt like this before. Always - always faked it but with you - it’s real. You make me feel so good. Fuck my pussy so good.” You lean forward to rest your forehead against the cool brick, spreading your legs a little wider so he can fuck into you. “Yes baby. Yes. Harder. Need more.” You beg and reach back to grip onto his hand on your hip.

Pride rises in his chest, making him give you his cock exactly how you want it. Hard and deep thrusts into your cunt, pushing you into the wall make him start panting. “Y-you feel f-fucking incredible.” He gasps out. “So so tight, h-hot.”

Your cheek scratches against the brick but you don’t care, too obsessed with the way he is grinding into you, fucking you into next week. The sound of his hips hitting your ass echoes in the alleyway but Gunther just continues smoking his cigarette as he keeps watch.

“Fuck.” He hisses, one hand sliding under the bunched up fabric of your dress to reach around you to start rubbing your clit. The audaciousness of it, a senator fucking his waitress in broad daylight in an alley, but he fucking loves it. Loves the way that you are so eager for it, the way that you want him. “Cum for me.” He groans into your ear, nibbling on the shell.

You let out a strangled groan when his fingers rub your clit, making you cry out in pleasure when you clamp down on his cock. He actually makes you cum - something your other lovers couldn’t claim. “Yes yes yes. Max. Oh shit!” You shriek, legs shaking as you soak him.

He pants raggedly in your ear, the hold your body has on him makes his teeth grit. Moaning with you as he rocks into you. Now that he has made you cum, he can cum himself. “Good.” He rasps out. “S-so fucking good.”

When he cums, he bites down on your neck and you love it. Reaching behind you to tangle your fingers in his styled hair, messing it up delights you. "Cum for me Max. Cum." You plead, squeezing his cock.

Max whimpers, letting go of the thin control he has and with one more thrust he bites down on your neck, aware that your co-workers might see the imprint of his teeth and not caring. Grunting and grinding into you as he pushes his release into the condom until he finally stops moving and kisses the spot on your neck while he tries to catch his breath.

You sag against the wall, closing your eyes as the pleasure continues to wash over you. “So damn good. Every time.” You sigh, shifting so his cock slides out of you and you turn to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “How about a milkshake to go?” You ask, “for Alistair?”

“That would be perfect.” Max kisses you again. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, smiling at you before he starts to tuck himself away.

You dispose of the condom and adjust your dress, stepping away from him before you turn towards the back door of the diner. Gunther is still standing with his back to you until Max tells him to turn around. You head back inside, unaware of his teeth marks in your neck until your coworker mentions it. “Just making out with the Senator.” You joke, working on making Alistair’s chocolate milkshake.

Max walks over to pick up the bill and walks over to hand you some money when you turn back and have the milkshake ready. He’s paying you far more than necessary but he wants you to make sure you have a good day today. “Thank you.”

You offer him a wink and a smile, “you’re welcome Senator Lord.” You take the money, eyes widening slightly at how much extra cash he’s given you. Sally eyes the money, glancing between you and Max before he nods and walks out with the milkshake. “Seems like you have an admirer.” Sally comments and you shrug, “he’s just being nice.”

****

It’s been nearly two weeks, and Max is practically obsessed with seeing you. He has been to see you every day you work and the two of you always end up behind the diner, wrapped up in each other. The only time he hasn’t had sex with you was the night that he brought Alistair for dinner, promising the boy he would take him to where he got the delicious milkshake from. He had loved how you had interacted with him; making him even more sure that you were someone he wanted in his life. Walking through the door, he nods to the other waitress and moves over to your section to sit down.

Sally calls out your name, “Senator Lord is here.” She tells you and you can’t help but look in the mirror in the hallway, checking your hair and you stride into the diner, smiling when you see Max sitting in his section. “Hey stranger.” You coo, sliding in to sit opposite him. “Burger?” You ask and he nods. “How’s Alistair?” You inquire, scribbling down his order.

“He’s good. He aced his math test.” Max crows, a proud papa of his son. “My son is bright, already learned the next section of the class, the teacher thinks he needs to be put in an advanced class.” He looks you over with a soft smile, imagining you helping him with homework. “How are you? Anything new going on with your neighbor?”

You shake your head, “no. No. He’s still got the television blaring at all hours of the day despite me telling him to turn it the fuck down. I’m sick of hearing the buzzing noise when the channel goes off air.” You roll your eyes as you reach out to brush your leg against his. “I, uh, I applied to go back to school. Finish up my classes…finally.” You fluster, biting your lip. You’ve saved the money Max gave you, deciding to put it towards something that will get you out of the diner.

“That’s great!” Max grins, proud of you for deciding to do something for you. From the time he has spent with you, learning about you, he’s come to find that it’s rare for you to do something that benefits just you. “Let me know if I can help in any way, you let me know.” He offers, meaning every word of it.

You want to reach for his hand but you can’t. You’ve never really discussed what you are or what it is that you’re doing. All you know is he comes to have a burger and then he fucks you. Probably an amazing deal for most men. You can’t help but want more. A proper date to dress up and eat with him instead of rushing off to get another person’s meal. “Thank you.” You tell him, meaning every word. It’s unusual for you to ever have support like this…not since your mom died. “So…I’ll go put your order in.” You tell him, not noticing the giggles coming from the women on the next table over from Max, the morning newspaper on the table.

Max frowns when the giggling and whispering continues, but he doesn’t pay much attention. Too busy watching you as you check on your customers. You are so sweet and kind to people, even when they are rude. He plans to try to come up with the nerve to ask you out. It’s laughable, he’s able to fuck you, but he can’t ask you out.

You grab the sodas for the table of women after putting in Max’s order, and that’s when you see it. A photo of you and Max in the alleyway. Clearly having sex, your mouth open as he pressed you against the wall with Gunter standing in the background. You squeak, grabbing the paper, and the women look up at you. “Who knew we had the Senator’s whore serving us?” One of them says and you stare at the photos.

Max hears the comment, immediately jumping out of his booth to confront them. He doesn’t understand why they would say that but he quickly understands when he sees the paper in your hands. Striding over to see the picture that has you frozen in horror, he closes his eyes and hisses a curse. “Shit.” He opens his eyes and glares at the women. “Calling a woman a whore isn’t very feminist of you.” He scolds, gently taking your shoulder. “Come on, we need to talk.”

You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and you are worried about what he is going to say, wondering if he is going to blame you or throw you under the bus. "Max. I-" You choke when you are in the alleyway once more. The paper seems to be burning in your hands from where you still hold it. "I'm - I'm so sorry."

Max shakes his head, hating how mortified you seem. “I am sorry.” He murmurs, taking the paper from you and sighing as he cups your cheek. “This is my fault. I should have known this could happen.” He’s ashamed of how he had never even gotten a hotel room for the two of you or taken you out to dinner. “I’ll protect you from the media as best I can.” He promises.

You shake your head, "no Max. You can't. It will destroy your career. You need to blame this on me. Tell the media I offered myself up. Tell them I - I came onto you and you, being a man, couldn't resist. You'll be the hero. I- I will be branded a slut but they will forget about me. I'll be forgotten after the next scandal comes out. You need to win this re-election for you and for Alistair. Blame it on me." You plead, cupping his cheeks.

“No.” Max is adamant about that. There is no way that he is going to blame this on you. “I should have-“ he breaks off and shakes his head. “I should have done things right. Taken you out on a date or at least gotten a fucking hotel for this.” He gives you a sorrowful work. “I didn’t even have sex with you in bed.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “no. No. It was - fuck. It was perfect. It was clumsy and messy and just - it was us. No expectations or drama. I liked it. I loved it because…fuck Max. I - I think I’m in love with you.” You finish with a whisper, stomach twisting with nerves.

Max stares at you for a moment, amazed that you aren’t screaming at him for getting splashed across the front page of the paper. Instead you are confessing your feelings for him. “I had planned to ask you out today.” He confesses. “Want to take you out. Have someone wait on you for a change. Would you still want to maybe do that with me?”

You bite your lip, “do you want - you want to be seen with me after that?” You ask, gesturing to the newspaper. “It’s not gonna be easy Max. Are you sure you don’t want to just…blame it on me and say it’s all me? It would be a hell of a lot easier for you.” You sigh, crossing your arms.

Max shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. I- Jackson might be pissed but I’m just going to admit that I should not have been in a public setting, but that it was an intimate interlude with the woman I love.” He tells you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You inhale sharply at his confession, a silly smile on your lips as you look at him. “Then let’s go to dinner.” You surge forward to press your lips to his, hearing the photographers approaching when they are shouting your way and suddenly you’re engulfed by cameras. “Max?” You choke, clinging to him.

“Shit.” Max wraps his arm around you and curls you towards him, holding up his hand towards the throng of reporters.

“Senator Lord! You’ve been adamant that you run a clean house, what do you have to say about this scandal? Sex in public.”

Max shakes his head. “No comment.” More questions are hurled towards the two of you as he shuffles the two of you towards Gunther, who is pushing his way through the cameras and bodies. “No comment at this time.”

You press yourself against Max as Gunther guides you to Max's car through the throng of vultures and you exhale shakily when you are inside the back of his town car. "I- shit." You choke, trying to ignore the way they are banging on the windows as the driver pulls away. "Shit. My purse is in my locker. I haven't finished my shift." You tell Max despite your hands shaking.

“I think your boss will understand.” Max murmurs, hugging you to him and rubbing your arms to calm you down. You are trembling and he hates it. “We will go back to my house. I’m sure Jackson is there, ready to berate me, but I don’t care.” He promises. “I’ll call your boss when we get there, make sure they understand.”

You nod, leaning into him to breathe in his expensive cologne. You close your eyes until you are arriving at Maxwell's house. Somewhere you have never been before. It's big and fancy - not that you expected anything less- and it's overwhelming when you walk inside to see the marble floors and gilded gold. It's a far cry from your shabby little apartment. "Your home is beautiful." You whisper, lost in the extravagant decor.

“Thank you.” Max keeps you close, his hold on you tightening slightly. This wasn’t the way he wanted to bring you over, but there was no changing what happened now.

“Max!” He frowns and turns his head towards the study door where Jackson is rushing out, his campaign manager obviously aware of what the papers posted by the look on his face.

Jackson looks at you and you prepare for the onslaught of thinly veiled insults. "You - you are fucking fantastic." He tells you, "you are - our poll numbers are through the roof. You wouldn't believe - they love that Max is with a working class woman. They love that he seems...normal. You are a fucking saving grace." Jackson says, holding his hands up towards you.

Max huffs, completely thrown off by this. He had been expecting Jackson to hit the roof, not look at you like the golden goose. “Right.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes and leaning into you. “Of course you are happy with polling numbers.” He clears his throat. “I want the paper to issue an apology for publishing her name though.” He tells Jackson. “They were wrong to do that.”

“I agree, but there’s no such thing as bad news Maxwell. It’s fucking - we will ask for an apology but then you gotta take her out on a proper date, show them you can be a gentleman and it will be a proper Cinderella story. We will make sure that she is all dolled up - designer of course - to show the public she’s more than a quick fuck. She is more than a quick fuck, right?” Jackson asks Max.

He purses his lips, not liking the term ‘Cinderella story’ because he never viewed you like that. “Yes, she’s more than a quick fuck.” He assures his manager. “But I don’t want to doll her up in designer anything unless she wants it.” He turns to you to explain. “I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough exactly as you are.”

You shake your head, “no. I, uh, I don’t want to be seen as a gold digger. I’ve never asked Max for any money. I’ve always worked hard for what I have and that’s not going to change. I want to go back to school. Get my degree and be on my own two feet.”

Jackson groans with pleasure and shakes his head. “I told you- I told you she was perfect when we met her!” He crows over your answer and completely ignores the fact that he has said quite the opposite. “Just make sure you say it just like that when you sit down with the reporter we are going to get to do a story on you and Max.” He grins. “This is going to be good!” His eyes widened in happiness. “I need to start making calls! Max is going to get re-elected thanks to you!”

****

“Please welcome Senator Lord and his beautiful new wife.” You squeeze Max’s hand, unable to believe you are at his election party. You had gotten married just before the election, unable to wait since you were impatient to be his wife. You’ve gone back to school, working on finishing your degree and you are an excellent stepmother to Alistair, growing close to him after you and his father were official.

You have been the talk of the election cycle, giving interviews and photoshoots with Max. It’s been exhausting but after leaving the diner, you are able to focus on what works best for you and Max. You enter the room, loving the cheers of his supporters, and he guides you to the dance floor.

“Can I have this dance?” He asks softly.

“Always.” You answer, letting him pull you close.

“Max. I have something to tell you.” You murmur after he sways you to the music.

“What hermosa?” He asks.

“I’m pregnant.” You whisper, a smile on your face.

Max gulps, his face breaking out in a wide smile and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours, much to the delight of his followers and the people who had worked tirelessly to get him elected.

“I love you.” He promises against your lips. “I love you so much, Mrs. Lord.”

He can’t help but be absolutely amazed. Stopping in a diner for dinner one night has led to this moment. He’s remarried to a woman that loves him and adores his son. He’s been re-elected to serve his constituents and try to make the world a better place for everyone, including the new baby you are going to gift him with. Life couldn’t be better.

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