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queen-haq · 11 months

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Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 2)

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter Two

A week had passed since your wedding day and you were finally getting the hang of maneuvering around Billy in the penthouse you shared with him. Not that it was cramped, it was a fucking mansion really. A wedding gift from Alistair, and located in the same neighbourhood as him. Of course you saw right through the ruse. It was a convenient way to keep watch over you; you wouldn’t be surprised if the man had cameras in the suite too. You did spend a day looking for them but the search turned up empty. Oh well. If the old man got his jollies from that then so be it.

After resigning last week, you had spent the last few days moving in and getting settled. It was the first time in years where you actually had time to relax and you took full advantage of it, lounging by the pool in the private rooftop terrace everyday. It was heaven, but you had to remind yourself not to get used to it. This was temporary, nothing more. Even with the millions you would be paid after the divorce, there was no way you’d spend it on something so frivolous like a luxury apartment. That wasn’t your style.

You entered the suite and headed to the kitchen to grab something to drink. It was almost one in the morning and you had just returned from dinner with some of your college friends. They had arranged the get together last minute after finding out about your wedding. The first half of the night was just them drilling you about why you hadn’t told them you were dating Willliam Russo. One of them found out about the wedding through some bougie New York society blog and they were hurt you hadn’t invited them. Of course you couldn’t tell them about the arrangement, that was part of the NDA you signed with Alistair, so you made up some nonsense about the two of you falling madly in love after you treated Alistair and deciding to elope in a mad whim. It was bullshit, but your friends ate it up. You did feel a slight twinge of guilt for lying to them, but, whatever. They didn’t need to know everything about you.

You poured a glass of wine for yourself and took a sip. An appreciative sigh escaped you. God, these rich snobs knew good wine. You had almost emptied the glass when you heard loud yelling. Curious, you sauntered outside the kitchen to find the source - a tall, leggy blonde storming down the spiral staircase, screaming.

The entire upper floor was Billy’s territory, and he’d warned you to stay the fuck away from the very first day you’d moved in. Apparently the same instructions didn’t apply to the other woman.

“Fuck you, Billy! I hope you fucking die!”

Amused, you regarded the scene in front of you as Billy took his time coming down the staircase. He was dressed in a black wifebeater and jeans, and appeared unbothered by his date telling him to die. Damn. This was fun. You really did revel in other people’s drama.

“Who the fuck are you?” the blonde demanded as soon as she saw you.

“His wife,” you responded.

The woman turned around to confront Billy who was now a few feet away. “You’re married? You slept with me yesterday, asshole!”

“Ouch!” you remarked, making a face. “That’s harsh.”

Billy cast a scornful glance at you before grabbing the other woman by the arm. “What part of we’re fucking done don’t you understand?” His voice was pure ice as he pulled her to the door. “Don’t show up here next time, Gwen. Or I’ll make sure you never book another modeling gig again.”

You cocked your eyebrow as he practically threw the woman out before slamming the door shut in her face. Shit. That was cold. You felt badly for the Gwen woman, she didn’t deserve to be humiliated like this. Now the same asshole was approaching you, flashing the same disdain. A slow feeling of dread crept over you but you kept your calm, refusing to cower. “You really know how to treat your women well, don’t you?”

Stopping right in front, eyes darkened with contempt, he looked down at you. “Next time keep your mouth shut in front of my guests.”

You snickered. “Or what? You’ll throw me out too?”

“Happily.”

“We both know that won’t go over well with your Granddad.” Smug, you sidestepped past him and headed back to the kitchen. To your surprise, he followed behind you.

“There’s only so much bullshit I’ll put up with.”

You laughed, rinsing off the wine glass in the sink. “I think you’ll put up with a lot to get your hands on his money.”

“You’re gonna judge me after you married a fucking stranger for money?”

You turned towards him again. “Guess that makes us both gold diggers.”

There was that beat of silence again, when his eyes grew darker and his expression turned blank and he simply stared at you like he was contemplating your torturous death in multiple ways.

“Are you just gonna be hanging around here the entire time?” he finally asked. “I thought you were a fucking surgeon or something. Don’t you have people to cut up?”

“I quit.”

A snide sneer curved his lips. “Of course.”

Usually bitchy comments just rolled off your back, but something about his tone struck a raw nerve. “I’ve been busting my ass for the last fifteen years to get to where I am. What the hell have you done?”

“I’m a goddamn Marine. A scout sniper specialist with 134 confirmed kills.”

“So you’ve killed people. Congratulations.”

“Like you haven’t? Everyone you operated on come out alive?”

Another sore spot for you. Bastard. “I’m not buying your bullshit about serving. People like you never actually risk your lives. You guys get the glory from slaughtering nations while it’s the poor folks who risk their lives on the battle front.”

You were taken aback when he suddenly charged at you, cornering you against the kitchen island. Apparently you hit a nerve too if the twitch in his jaw was any indication. Gripping the island on either side of you, he held you hostage between his arms. “Don’t presume to know me.” His voice was a quiet roar, laced with vitriol and menace. The man wasn’t playing, especially when he lowered himself so he could meet your eyes directly. “You have no idea who I am. What I’m capable of.”

“I hope you’re not threatening me, Billy. I don’t respond well to those.”

“And I don’t respond well to being forced into marriage.”

“Looks like we’re at an impasse then.” You crossed your arms, straightening your back, hoping the narrowing of distance between you two would force him to retreat. But he remained in place, his pitch-black eyes still locked on you. “Maybe we should call a truce to keep the peace.”

“Not interested.” His eyes glided over your face, making it difficult for you to breathe under his scrutiny. “I’d rather destroy you.”

You knew better than to goad him. You really shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it. “Violence gets you all hot, husband?”

Something almost resembling a smile curved his mouth “You’ll never know. I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last woman on earth.”

Your lips formed an exaggerated pout. “Aw. How am I supposed to survive without vanilla sex?”

The last thing you expected from him was a grin, an actual, legitimate smile that finally made you recognize he really was fucking hot. Yeah, yeah, everyone went crazy over his looks including your friends but his personality ruined his good looks for you. Except his smile somehow managed to overshadow all of that nastiness.

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in a lot of trouble, golddigger.”

“It’s also got me out of trouble, sweetheart,” you fired back.

“This isn’t gonna end well for you. You know that, right? The old man is using you to embarrass me. He thinks he can bring me in line by forcing this marriage on me – but I’m not gonna let him win, no matter what.”

“Why not just play along? Sounds like all he wants is for you to stop fucking around and take some responsibility.”

An impenetrable expression masked his face. “Take responsibility? No, he wants me to be his fucking puppet and I’m never going to be that.” The hard glint returned to his eyes. “And if this means I have to take you down, I will fucking do so happily.”

There were a lot of things that didn’t make sense in this scenario. Like why a rich brat like Billy ended up serving in the military. You didn’t know if that really was true, you needed to find that out, but if it was, it didn’t gel. You would’ve expected him to follow in his family’s footsteps and go to some Ivy League school and work in the family business. But from the cursory stalking you did online, that didn’t appear to be the case. Back then you didn’t care enough to find out more, but now your curiosity was definitely piqued.

“Scared?” His snide tone brought you out of your reverie. “You should be. Shows that you’ve got some survival skills.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I always land on my feet.”

“When this whole thing blows up on you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You smirked. “Warning noted.”

He moved back, evidently disappointed by your flippant reaction. “You’re an idiot.”

“I graduated top 2% of my class in medschool but, sure, I’m an idiot.”

He sent you an irritated glance, making his way to the fridge. You watched as he took out some leftover food from the fridge and started warming it up. “Booksmart isn’t everything.”

“You’re gonna wax poetic about street smarts now?” You snickered. “Spare me.”

“Just, please, shut the fuck up while I eat. Your voice is giving me a headache.”

You watched him as he ate some pasta, noting how careful he was not to leave a mess. Small, dignified bites, carefully wiping off residue sauce from the surface, and actually washing the dishes after he was done instead of leaving them in the sink for the maid to clean up.

A yawn escaped you and you realized how tired you were. The dinner had wiped your energy, and while the argument with Billy had reenergized you for a while, your exhaustion had returned. As an introvert, there was only so much you could take being around people.

“Does Alistair know your brother’s got a record for pimping?”

You stopped in your tracks. Fuck. A part of you had hoped Billy would be too lazy to have someone look into your family but obviously you’d underestimated him. You turned around to face him, careful to keep your blank mask on. Your brother had made some stupid, heinous mistakes as a teenager that you still hadn’t come to terms with, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let some rich prick lord it over you.

“Of course. One of the reasons why he chose me for this shindig. That man really wanted to stick it to you.” You weren’t entirely sure, but a part of you suspected that really was the case. You were meant to be a punitive consequence for Billy and so far everything about you was an embarrassment to the man. Alistair really did strike gold when he landed under your care.

Billy’s eyes were filled with cold heat as he continued his assault. “He pimp you out too?”

Your temper flared. “Why? You interested?”

“Not my type. I like ‘em with less meat and no sass.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is this where I’m supposed to start crying because some rich brat called me fat?”

“You know,” he mused, “this rich brat can sneak into your room at any time and kill you without a second thought.”

“And this fat bitch could slip some poison into you that fucks up your entire body and kills you in the most painful way possible.”

There was wry amusement in his voice, like he was actually enjoying this. Something you didn’t expect. “So you’ve put some thought into this.”

“I keep a running list of the best poisons in my head.”

“So not just a golddigging whore then. Potential killer too.”

“I’m a woman of many layers.”

“Clearly.”

For the first time you saw his gaze linger down your body, not in disgust or disdain, but with actual interest, like he was seeing you in a whole new light. And all because you’d confessed to thoughts of murdering him. What a fucking psycho.

Done with his bullshit for the night, you turned your back and exited the kitchen, all the while feeling his eyes boring into you.

To be continued...

A/N - Thank you for the lovely response to the first chapter. I know some people asked to be added to a taglist but Tumblr really hates my posts when I add pictures or tags in the body. If you’d like to follow this fic, I recommend you follow the tag “Grudgingly Yours”.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. Thank you!

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours #my fics

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daddy-dins-girl · 8 months

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Kindred - Chapter One

Kindred.

So I rewatched WW84 two nights ago and the next day I had 5k of Max Lord fic written (idk what happened). But anyway, lmk if you want to see a part 2!

Main MasterlistSeries Masterlist

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Chapter 2

Summary: You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to.

Tonight a thought occurs to you that maybe Mr. Lord just needs to let go, for one night. And maybe you could give that to him.

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: Takes place a couple years before the events of WW84. Reader has no defined age so it can be whatever you want. I'm not sure how old Alistair is supposed to be in 84, but in this fic he's about 6ish (so no baby talk or screaming toddlers here folks!).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Oral sex. Explicit language. Light dom/sub. Light bondage (Max's neck tie comes in handy). Max's hair is it's own warning.

...

“Hi Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at your boss as the front door swings open to allow you inside. You’re met, as per usual, by the sight of your employer looking - in a word - exasperated. He sighs when he sees you; in relief you assume, and runs a hand through his golden chestnut locks that constantly fall across his forehead. He’s dressed smartly in a blue pin striped suit with a stark white shirt and navy tie with a gold paisley pattern which hangs loose and slightly askew around his neck. You assume he’s been tugging at it, something you noticed he does when he gets overly stressed which, granted, is pretty often.

You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to. You know why he does it; that he’s trying to build an empire, something to leave to his son (with whom he splits custody of with his ex-wife) and to be able to provide everything for his son that he never had. But spending so much time with his son Alistair, you see the other side of it as well and sympathize. All Alistair wants is for his father to actually get home in time to read him a bedtime story, or go to the park for a game of catch, or show up at school for Career Day like everyone else’s parents.

“Thank you for coming so quickly” Maxwell finally breathes as both his hands reach out and grab yours, gently pulling you inside. “My ex-wife had a family emergency with her mother and needed to go out of town and had to drop Alistair off. I know this is normally your week off, I appreciate you coming”

“Of course, Mr. Lord, it’s no trouble, really” you assure him. Truly you didn’t mind, you could always use the extra money. You liked the schedule with the Lord’s. Two weeks on, two weeks off. In your off time from nannying you peddled beauty products and rented a chair at a local hair salon near your apartment. Giving haircuts to suburban housewives was a great way to boost your side business of selling cosmetics and skin care products. You had clients at the salon who would often hire you to come to small lunches they would host for their girlfriends where you could give a small presentation of the products you sold and it was an easy way for you to make money and add to your growing client list. Mr. Lord had even surprised you by becoming a client. He had come home one night to you filling out orders in a receipt book at the kitchen table, a few skin care products strewn about the table as you readied to package them up and he was instantly curious as to what you were selling. You were embarrassed at first, for technically working for your other job while on the clock for him but he instantly waved you off. Alistair had already been asleep for hours and he assured you that not only did he not mind, but he was impressed by your work ethic. He handled a few of the products, carefully reading the small print on the bottles and you noted his curiosity before pulling out the catalog from your purse and suggesting a few items for him to try.

“Makes you glow like a teenager” You had smiled at him as you explained one of the serums to him and he had his checkbook out within minutes, placing his first order.

You would have to rearrange a few of the haircuts you had scheduled for this week but most of your clients were housewives with flexible enough schedules that you were confident you could rearrange them to times where Alistair would be in school, so you weren’t worried about it. And your cosmetic business was mostly a work from home endeavor anyway, aside from the few weekly home deliveries you made which could also be done during school hours. During your “on weeks” at the Lord’s you lived there. It was just easier due to Maxwell’s ever changing and highly busy schedule. He was out of the house at the early morning hours and typically didn’t return until long after the sun was set. Even most weekends he was in and out of the office, trying to be home whenever he could but with his business still being in the early stages of growth, it was a necessary evil.

You were more than just a babysitter for Alistair. You cooked and cleaned and did whatever you could to make Maxwell’s life easier. In the beginning he tried to insist you didn’t need to do as much as you did, that he knew he didn’t pay you enough for all the work you put in, but you quickly brushed him off, ensuring him that not only were you happy to do it, but it gave you something to do when Alistair was asleep or otherwise occupied. He eventually stopped trying, knowing you’d do it regardless, and every few months (presumably when he’d had a good month at work and could afford it) you’d notice a couple of extra bills in the envelope of cash he’d hand you at the beginning of your work week. It wasn’t much, but you appreciated that he appreciated you. At the end of the day you were both just trying to hustle your way through life; Maxwell was just a more successful version of yourself, in a way. You were kindred spirits, it’s probably why you got along as well as you did.

The fact that you found your boss to be devastatingly handsome didn’t hurt either, you supposed.

“Who is it Daddy?” You heard Alistair's excited voice call out as hurried footsteps came barreling towards the front entryway. He slid to a stop in his socked feet and hands instinctively wrapped around his father’s leg as he peered up at you with the same large chestnut coloured eyes as his fathers.

“It’s our Angel, come to save the day again buddy” Max smiled down at his son, ruffling a hand through his dark brown locks.

“So you’re going back to work tonight?” Alistair’s face fell slightly, along with your heart, as his fingers picked absently at the crease in Max’s pant leg.

“Hey,” You quickly sprang into action, squatting down to be eye level with Alistair and nudging at his chin with your finger to get him to look up at you. “I brought you something” you begin, a grin spreading across your lips as you reach into your purse at your side.

“A present?!” Alistair’s eye’s light up suddenly and it makes you smile.

“Well, sort of, but it’s on loan” you explain as you pull the rented VHS tape out of your bag and hold it out in front of you.

“ET!” the boy all but shrieks. His Dad had taken him to see it at the drive-in when it had first come out and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since. When Raquel, Mr. Lord’s assistant, had called you a couple hours ago to explain the situation and asking if you could step in this week, you knew the boy might be overly emotional; his grandmother being ill and his father undoubtedly rushing off to work the moment you arrived at their doorstep. You had a feeling this would cushion the blow and your instincts were right on the money as he jumped up and down excitedly at you.

“Can we put it on now?” He asked, his excitement barely contained as he bounced up and down on his heels.

“Tell you what, why don’t we order a pizza and we can watch it with our dinner”

“Yay!” Alistair shouts, turning on his heel and running off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to browse the pizza menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

“I’m getting pepperoni!” You hear him yell from the kitchen and you huff a laugh at his eagerness as you straighten back up and face your employer once again.

“Thank you, honestly sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you” Mr. Lord tells you honestly and you smile, placing a hand on his bicep.

“Happy to help” you tell him. And you are. Maxwell and Alistair have become this sort of part-time family of yours and you’d do anything for them.

“I better get in there before he starts dialing and orders half the restaurant” you joke before bringing your hands up to fix Max’s tie around his neck until it’s tightened and straight, your hand brushing down the silken material slightly and then patting your palm against it once.It’s something you’ve never done to him before and you have no idea what came over you in the moment, the act feeling strangely intimate but you quickly clear your throat, take a step back and give him an easy smile.

“Don’t work too hard” you tell him before you brush past him to go after Alistair, knowing he won’t actually heed the advice, but you say it anyway.

You hear the front door open and close as you reach Alistair in the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the wall to place the order and get your evening started.

…

It’s well past ten when you hear the door open again, signaling Maxwell’s arrival home. You look up from the kitchen table where you’d been flipping through a magazine and watch him as he places his briefcase on the floor before his large frame envelops the open doorway to the kitchen. He leans against the wall, tie hanging loosely around his neck again and hair falling across his forehead.

“Alistair?” He asks hopefully, though you're pretty certain he already knows the answer.

“Asleep” You shrug and his face falls slightly.

“Of course, it’s late” he sighs, pulling his arm up to look at his watch. “Lost track of time I guess” he mumbles and you frown. He looks exhausted, hands running through his hair again.

“It’s getting long” you say, not meaning too it just comes out; occupational hazard you suspect.

“What?” He questions, not sure what you mean.

“Your hair” you nod in his direction. “When was the last time you had it cut?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure…” Max trails off, thinking. He knows it has been too long. He had to skip his last appointment because an investor meeting had come up and he’d forgotten to ask Raquel to reschedule him.

You stand up, your feet moving of their own accord until you’re standing right in front of him at the kitchen doorway and you bring your left hand up to gently run through the few stray locks that are normally slicked back but have now curtained across his forehead.

“I could trim it for you” you say, your eyes glued to his hair and not even noticing how close you’re standing to him or that his gaze is fixed on you, his Adam's apple bobbing heavy in his throat.

“I… couldn’t ask you to do that” he says finally, running his own hand through his hair as you pull yours away.

“No, really, I insist, come here” you take both your hands and grab for one of his, pulling him further into the kitchen and sliding a chair out.

“I have my stuff here, I was going to give Alistair a trim this week anyway” you shrug. “Sit, I’ll be right back” you instruct and he sighs but dutifully does as you ask.

You return a couple minutes later with your supplies and a towel that you secure around his neck. You go to the sink and fill your spray bottle with water so you can mist it through his hair to get it wet enough to cut before you begin your work.

“You have a great head of hair, I see where Alistair gets it from” you comment as your fingers rake through it from the top of his scalp to the back of his neck. It was true. A lot of your male clients around Mr. Lord’s age were already showing a receding hairline and none of them had hair as thick as his. “I don’t think you have to worry about going bald anytime soon” you joke and you hear him chuckle softly.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this” Max says into the stillness of the room while you continue to trim and run your hands through his hair, ensuring all the ends are even.

“It’s kind of fun when it’s not work,” you shrug. Plus you really didn’t mind running your hands through Max’s hair, not that you’d ever admit that to him. You’d been dying to do it since you met him. Soft, luscious locks begging for a pair of hands other than his own to run through them.

You finish the trim, place the scissors down on the table and take an extra few seconds to run both hands through his hair, your nails raking gently against his scalp as you style his hair the way he likes it.

“There” you smile at your handiwork before reaching for the handheld mirror on the table and holding it up for him to take. His hand wraps around yours on the handle of the mirror as he brings it in front of him, his free hand running through his hair to inspect the length.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Feels much better” he beams at you through the mirror with his megawatt smile that makes your knees weaken and you bite your lip, looking away quickly as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Just glad I could help” you tell him before you untuck the towel from the collar of his dress shirt and sweep it off his shoulders, balling it up before any loose hair falls onto the floor and placing it on the seat of a nearby chair so you can take it to the laundry room later. You're standing up straight behind him again and before you can talk yourself out of it, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and start kneading, instantly feeling the tight knots of muscles beneath his dress shirt.

“Oh, um” Max startles slightly in the chair, turning his head as far to the side as he can to try and look at you.

“Sorry” you quickly pull your hands from his shoulders as if you’d been burned and Max turns his body in his seat so he’s sitting sideways on the chair, his elbow resting on the back.

“It’s ok” Max assures, large brown eyes looking up at you. “But, you don’t have to… I mean I don’t expect…” he trails off and you quickly come to the understanding that he’s not mad at you for touching him or doesn’t even not want you to.

An idea comes to your head as you stare down at the big puppy dog eyes of the exhausted man staring back at you. A man that deserves so much more than what life has thrown at him. It’s a risky idea, sure, and could potentially ruin everything you’ve built with this family over the last several months but something just comes over you and takes hold and you can’t seem to shake it off.

“Turn your chair around to face me, and bring it forward a bit, away from the table” you instruct, taking a few steps back so he has room. His eyes glance over you for a few moments, studying to see if you’re being serious or not before he finally swallows and nods, silently obeying your orders. He turns the chair and sits on it properly again, his hands going under the seat so he can shuffle it forward slightly so it's not backed right up against the table, his eyes never leaving you from where you stand a foot or so away, leaned against the kitchen island in front of him.

Satisfied with where he sits, you take the two steps across the kitchen to reach him again and your hands go back to his shoulders, this time rubbing up and down the material of the dark blue suspenders for a few moments before your fingers hook underneath them and slide them down his arms. You catch the shudder he releases but neither of you comment on it.

“You’re always working so hard” you sigh as you run a hand through his hair again before bringing it to run down the side of his face and his eyes close voluntarily at your touch. “Taking care of Alistair, of your clients, your business” you continue, both hands now fiddling with the tie at his neck, loosening it further.

“Who takes care of you?” You ask, though not expecting an answer, and he doesn’t give you one. Just swallows thickly instead, breathing heavily through his nose.

You successfully loosen the tie completely before sliding it off of him, wrapping the silk around your hands briefly to feel the fine fabric. You put one hand on his shoulder and step around him until you’re behind him and squat down as each of your hands grab for his arms and pull them behind his back until his wrists are together and you lay the silk fabric of the tie over top of them.

“Is this ok?” You ask, mouth next to his ear now and he quickly nods his head.

“Yes” he manages to breathe out and you go back to your task of securing the tie around his wrists, giving it a gentle tug when you're finished to make sure it's not too tight but also that he can’t wriggle free too easily.

You take a steadying breath while still behind him before raising up to your feet again. You’ve never actually done anything like this before and your hands are nearly shaking, your entire body buzzing with excitement but you try to will yourself to relax. Max needs this, and you can do it. You can give him what he needs and what he’d never ask you for.

Settling your shoulders and holding your head high, you finally step back around him until you’re in front of him again.

“Good boy” you praise him once you’re facing him again; hand coming up to rest on his cheek and he closes his eyes at the warmth of your palm against his skin.

“Poor baby, just needs someone to take care of him, don’t you?” you tease, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

“Yes, Angel” Max sighs, his eyes finally opening again to meet yours. You notice the endearment slip, the same one he had used this morning and it gives you butterflies. You take another steadying breath to reign yourself in so you don't end up untying him and letting him do whatever he wants with you. God knows you want to, but you want tonight to be just for him.

“I’m going to take good care of you, aren’t I Maxwell?” You whisper and his eyes close again upon hearing his first name come from your lips. You had always called him Mr. Lord, but tonight, he was just Maxwell.

Placing a hand on each of his shoulders, you lower yourself onto his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his and you can feel him already growing hard beneath you. Max’s chest is heaving as he tries to maintain some type of control over his body, his heart beating wildly underneath his pressed white dress shirt as your hands glide up and down from the tops of his shoulders to the middle of his chest.

“I think I like you like this” you purr, lower half grinding up against his to create some friction and a moan slips from his lips as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. “You don’t have to think, don’t have to act, just be free… just be with me, baby” you tell him before you lean forward and capture his lips with yours, both of you moaning into the kiss when your mouths open and tongues meet. His lips are soft, as soft as you’d always fantasized they’d be. His tongue explores your mouth greedily, desperate to taste every part of you, lick into every cavern. You’d always imagined he’d be a great kisser but you had no idea how amazing he’d be. You’re so lost in the kiss you almost forget your plan all together, wanting to just stay in this moment with him for as long as your lung capacities would allow. Your hands are in his hair now, fingers running through the soft waves, and he groans into your mouth before he pulls back suddenly.

“Angel, please. Let me hold you, touch you” he all but whines, squirming underneath you and you almost break, feeling defenseless against his pleas, but you hold steady and straighten up in his lap again.

“Not tonight baby. Tonight is for you. This is what I want, and you want to please me, don’t you Maxwell?”

“Yes” he nods, his voice trembling.

It’s clear that giving up control is not something Max is used to, but you know he needs it, likes it even - if the evidence currently pressing against your thigh is any indication.

“Good boy” you praise again and when his cock twitches against your leg, your eyebrows raise at him in surprise.

“You like being my good boy, Maxwell?” You tease, rewarding him with a forceful press of your pelvis into his groin and he moans, biting his lower lip.

“Yes”

“You feel so good baby” you moan, rocking into him, your hands around the back of his neck now. “So big and hard for me” you praise and a whine escapes his lips as he tries to meet your thrusts with his own as much as he can within the confines of the chair he’s tied to.

You lean your face forward until your mouth is on the shell of his ear and you gently pull the lobe between your teeth before soothing over it with your tongue. “Want you in my hand, in my mouth” you confess breathily against his ear and he whimpers. “Can I take you out baby?”

Max eagerly nods, not trusting his own voice and you nip at his earlobe again. “Words, baby” you remind him.

“Yes” he breathes. “Take my cock out, it’s yours Angel”

He sounds absolutely wrecked already and you love it. You bring your attention to his waist and pop open the button to his trousers, sliding down the zipper before your hand pushes eagerly inside to cup him over his briefs.

“Oh, baby” Max sighs, hanging his head down so he can see your hand rubbing along his shaft covered in expensive soft black cotton.

“Is this my cock, Maxwell?” You ask, feeling more emboldened by the minute as Max turns into absolute putty under your hands.

“Yes. Fuck. Yeah baby, all yours”

You remove your hand from him for just a few seconds so you can tug his pants down to his thighs and then shove the front of his briefs down so you can take him out of the confines of his underwear and see him in all his glory. And what a glorious site it is, indeed, you think to yourself.

Max hisses when you pull his length out and run your hand down it once. He’s long and too thick for you to be able to wrap your hand all the way around it. The head is dark and purple and already leaking precum. “It’s beautiful, just like you baby” you tell him before you lean forward to press a quick kiss to his lips and smile at him. “Gonna make you feel so good” you promise before easing yourself off of his lap and onto your knees instead and Max groans, tossing his head back.

You start with teasing little licks and kisses to the head before going lower and licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock and Max moans from above you. “Tastes good too” you tell him before your mouth closes around the fat head and sucks gently, causing Max to buck his hips up into you.

“Stay still” you scold, immediately taking your mouth off of him to look up at him. “Don’t be a naughty boy” you warn as you grip both of his thighs tightly.

“Oh, fuck” Max groans, eyes closing and head falling back again. It's clear he’s loving this, loving you being in control of him. Another bead of precum dribbles out and slides down his dick and you quickly duck down to catch it on your tongue and lick a stripe up his length again. This time Max remains still, his breaths coming out harder through his nose as he concentrates on remaining still.

“Good boy” you praise before bringing your whole mouth down on him, swallowing down as much of his length as your throat will allow and repeating the process over and over, head bobbing up and down on his cock with enthusiasm.

“Oh baby, shit. Holy shit Angel” Max whines as he watches you choke on his dick. Your eyelashes flutter up at him as you watch him watch you. He looks completely fucked out, his pupils blown wide, shoulders tense under the white dress shirt where he’s pulling against the restraints behind him, desperate to reach for you, to touch you.

You moan into his cock. Watching him completely lose himself in you is doing all kinds of things to your body. You can feel yourself soaking your panties, getting off on the pleasure you’re giving him and you bring a hand up to wrap around his length and work him up and down for what your mouth can’t reach.

When the back of your throat needs a break you focus your mouth on his head instead, swirling your tongue around and underneath the tip while your hand continues pumping his shaft, wet with your saliva and easily sliding up and down the length.

“Oh Angel, you feel so fucking good” Max praises.”Oh fuuuuuuck” His breathing has become even more erratic and you know he’s getting close so you double your efforts, taking his whole length in your mouth again and hollowing out your cheeks as you slide him down your throat and swallow. The sounds of wet saliva and your lips smacking and swallowing his cock are positively sinful as they bounce off the kitchen walls and back to your ears and it urges you on, bobbing faster and faster up and down his cock, your hand pumping and gently squeezing him in tandem with your mouth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby!” Max whines and you know it's a warning. Rather than lifting off of him you moan into him instead and continue sucking and tugging at him, urging him to finish in your mouth.

“Oh Christ, Angel. I’m coming, I’m coming. Fuck!” Max warns before you feel his hot spend hit the back of your throat in spurts and you continue moaning and swallowing around his cock, milking him of every last drop until his hips finally still and you swallow once more before releasing him with a pop and laying your head to rest on his thigh to take a breath.

“Oh my God” Max heaves a sigh and you feel all the tension leave his body and a smile crosses your lips. You move your head forward just a little to press a kiss to his shaft before you straighten up on your knees again and tuck him back into his underwear.

“Angel, fucking untie me, please” he begs desperately and you quickly oblige him, reaching behind the chair to tug at the knot until it comes free, the silk falling to the floor and Max’s arms shoot out the moment they’re free and tug you up off the floor and back onto his lap as his strong arms circle around your back and hold you tight to his chest, hugging you like you’re a life raft and he could just float away into nothing if you weren’t there to anchor him.

“Angel you are so perfect to me” he sighs, nuzzling against the side of your face.”I… didn’t even know I needed that” he admits and you smile, leaning back so you can look at him.

“I know baby” you coo, running a hand through his hair again before resting it on his cheek. “Told you I’d take care of you”

“And… I want to take care of you, too” Max shrugs, his eyes pleading with yours as his hands run absently across your back.

“Another time” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his strong nose. Max’s shoulders fall but he nods in understanding.

“Do you promise?” He asks, bringing his large hands to run up and down your sides.

“I promise, Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at him.

...

Chapter two

Tagging some of my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin

If you wanna be tagged there is an update, lmk!

#pedro pascal #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #maxwell lord fanfiction #wonder woman 1984 #max lord #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x you

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templartationsexchange · 2 months

Text

Templartations Exchange 2024 is on its way!

We're back for the third year straight! This time with a dedicated Tumblr blog to gather all the announcements and to share the creations of our talented participants ❤

What is Templartations Exchange?

Templartations Exchange is a Discord server exclusive fics and arts exchange created to celebrate templar, ex-templar, almost templar, and conditional templar characters from the Dragon Age universe, such as Cullen Rutherford, Alistair Theirin, Raleigh Samson, Delrin Barris, Knight Captain Rylen, Carver Hawke, and others

Note: even though this is a templars-related event, members of the Templartations community DO NOT necessarily go with templars siding play-throughs nor share the in-game pro templars views. This is an event hosted for everyone to celebrate their favorite Dragon Age characters and appreciate the diversity in the fandom.

How do I sign up?

Please follow the link to our Templartations Discord server here, complete The Recruitment and look for the instructions in the Exchange channel.

Event time table:

Nominations: February 25th - March 2nd

Sign-ups: 2 weeks: March 3rd - March 16th

Assignments Issued: March 17th

Creation Period: 8 weeks: March 17th - May 4th

Collection Goes Live!: May 11th

Creators Revealed: May 18th

We look forward to seeing you there! Happy creating!

#dragon age #exchange #templars #cullen rutherford #alistair theirin #carver hawke

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drinkyourvillainjuice · 3 months

Note

3. things.

1. I forgot to tell you Alistair is simple trauma Bait. Sure let's romance a normal person.. I see you! 🥲

2. I hope you are doing well and have a great week ahead. Thanks for always answering my asks. I appreciate you! 😇

3. Okay so ROs reaction to MC being asked out in front of them..? (crushing stage vs. relationship stage) looking to see Mal and T's reactions especially because I like torturing myself 😭😅

Hi hello you, again! I don't know, should we count the same person asking question again? I lost the track a bunch of times, anyways. Number #5? #6? Whatever! Life's too short to worry about numbers on an Excel sheet with data next to it! Here's your carefully crafted answer using the best of our technologies (a keyboard that lights up)

"1. whaaaaat? I have no idea what you could mean by that…

2. Aww, I appreciate this a lot! 3 .This is a fun thought! Alistair, crushing: Oh damn. kay. Guess I didn't put myself out there enough. Suppose that's how it goes sometimes. Alistair: relationship: Uh. This got awkward. Like rando knows there's a thing, right? Kinda weird gonna be real. CG, crushing: What. you cannot be serious. since freaking when has Dime had game. CG, relationship: SEETHING how dare you, rando. You can't possibly understand Dime like I do. Get the fuck out of here. Mal, crushing: is laughing - wow, good on rando for beating me to the punch and shooting their shot. Never thought I'd see the day where I'm too slow. Mal, relationship: I mean, kinda disrespect not to bring me in on this conversation. whatever, it's up to MC what they want to do I guess, I'm not their boss. Teddie, crushing: …whatever. Didn't care anyway. [absolutely cares.] Teddie, relationship: what the fuck do you think you're doing asshole. Kay, crushing: Oh… alright. That's, fine. [it is not fine] Kay, relationship: visibly uncomfortable and caught between trying to assert herself and just pure embarrassment Wil, I'm actually a little stuck on! There are some under the surface things that I can't get into just yet due to spoilers which makes this tricky to answer. However, somebody asking first while they're crushing wil probably falls more on the side of faintly amused than really mad."

Hope you enjoyed this answer that has been made by the finest of our workers!

#ask #drink your villain juice #wil (dyvj)#kay (dyvj)#teddie (dyvj)#mal (dyvj)#cg (dyvj)#alistair (dyvj)

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panelshowsource · 16 days

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this is such a great episode!

for anyone who hasn't listened yet — it deals with some heavy things including food addiction and eating disorders, death, and more, so anyone who wants to check it out should be aware it's about richard's own history and his self-identified "failures", and it's not particularly light-hearted or funny even though it's endearing and inspiring in many ways

i really appreciate his honesty and how carefully he speaks. he has every right to be angry — with his father leaving, with his relationship to food and shame, with the ever-present confines of modern masculinity making life so lonely for men — but he never seems to be. he just cares about being the best, healthiest version of himself. and i appreciate that he doesn't talk at people, preach, act like he knows more or best; he just knows what he knows all while seeking to always be learning more. i really appreciate him!

i've never heard of a podcast by tailors, how interesting! i listened to the episode with alex and it was really sweet! i'll post this in case anyone else wants to check it out :)

(of course 💜)

same, i'd only really heard of it because i got a bunch of messages about it! (i was a little unplugged from scripted tv when the first series came out 😅)

TOTALLY AGREE about jon pointing! his comedic timing, his facial expressions, he is just too hilarious — even though...can i just say...why was that old ass man playing a uni student X_X

anyways — i knew him from plebs!! that's quite a famous itv2 series, so you should check it out and see if you like it! i love tom basden ugh and if you check my non-panel shows masterpost i have live at the moth club and he does standup in ep1!

i am somewhat familiar with it as someone who likes to watch some of the nextup specials (alistair barrie was one i enjoyed recently!) and tries to keep abreast of the festival nominees & winners, but i don't have as much time as i'd like to really weed out my favourites only because there isn't enough time in the day and i'm already trying to watch 100 things a day 🥲

one thing i find funny is how i pay more attention to who would do well on tv opposed to who is just GOOD. like, i didn't get john kearns until stopped thinking about him in the context of dictionary corner and started acknowledging his written set as a very, very specific piece of work that really shouldn't be disassembled and consumed in morsels. but i do see my interest in — and potentially my preference for — panel shows reflected in some of the circuit guys i like, such as alasdair beckett-king, huge davies, larry david. i just know they would kill panel show world if they were pushed properly :')

i find that i like standup a lot more live than i do on screen — which i think a lot of comedians would understand!

as well, i find the discourse about how difficult it is to get started/off the ground now that edinburgh fringe is becoming less and less accessible extremely fascinating and try to listen to all of the podcasts/convos about that that i can. it's costing comedians upwards of 5k just to debut a modest set at edinburgh — which is madness. here is tom mayhew talking to bbc news about this just a couple of weeks ago...

anyways, is there someone you wanted to recommend? i would love to check out anything 😚

—

daniel sloss standup — added a couple of those to drive! god i looooooved him when i was in high school and still do! highly recommend him on roast battle uk if you need extra sloss content. i'll work on the others over the next couple of weeks

alma's not normal — added to drive!

here we go — i know exactly where this is so i can hook you up but imma need you to dm/ask me off anon for the deets!

hold the front page + the unofficial science of home alone — sorry anons i don't have these on me but they're very easy requests someone can hook you up with on r/tv_bunny, so post them there!

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

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breninarthur · 8 months

Note

happy dadwc friday! sending you “letters between two of your OC’s companions about them” for Kallian 👀

hi, thank you!! ^^ @dadrunkwriting

rated t. 517 words. alistair writes to zevran before he and kallian set off to tevinter. this is... some vague idea i have for the future, and it becomes less dysfunctional, i swear 😂

◌ ◌ ◌

Zevran,

It was surprisingly difficult to find some vellum and ink without somebody insisting on scribing for me, so even though I'm sure you'll be annoyed this isn't in some hard-to-crack code... appreciate that I'm being as sneaky as I can be.

Kallian is on her way to meet with you. I pray that Isabela reaches you with this letter before then. I also pray that she doesn't read this herself, and would like to remind her that I am in contact with her friend the Champion, who would... be disappointed, I'm sure. I suppose I can't think of a good threat, but Isabela, I will pay you if you stop reading right now.

Look after her. Kallian. Not in a fight, Maker knows it'll be the other way around there. But all this sneaking and spying and hiding you're going to do... you're the expert. So I'll be holding you accountable for anything that goes wrong, and praying that I won't need to. Just... get her out of there, will you? And be careful yourself. Tevinter isn't kind to elves, and I think Ferelden would resent me going to war.

I've thought a lot about whether I should be writing this letter. I think she might actually murder me if she knew. But I'm not entirely going behind her back? I floated the idea past her. She... I don't know, she's too focused on me. She thinks I don't mean it, but I do.

You know what, just show her this letter when the time arrives. Kall, please don't hate me.

This is all over the place.

Right. Here goes.

Right now.

I am running out of space.

Maybe I want to.

Anyway.

I truly hate to tell you this, but I trust you'll do right by her, if not me.

We cannot spend as much time together as we wish to, not now, not yet. Each time she visits the Palace feels more and more fleeting, and I fear it is my fault. It's... difficult to fit everything in. Weeks worth of a relationship; months; a year; all in one day, or a week if we're incredibly lucky. It's hard.

You two have always been close. There was a time, back then, when I thought she would choose you. When she didn't... forgive me, Zev, but I always knew that hurt you. The way you looked at her never changed. The way she looked at you did change... but I don't know. She still looks at other people differently.

Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. That certainly wouldn't be anything new.

All I wanted to say was... you have my blessing. When I see her again, we won't speak of it. If you're there too, well... let's cross that bridge when we come to it.

Kallian, I love you. Sorry if this made things awkward between you. Just imagine how awkward it would be if I was there too! Ha ha!

Take care of each other. I want to see no new scars when you return, on either of you.

With love,

Alistair

#dadwc #my writing #alistair theirin #zevran arainai #warden tabris #kallian tabris #aliwarden #zevwarden #kallian x alistair #kallian x zevran #dragon age

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theroyalsims · 10 months

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SIMBLEDON APPEARANCE WITH ANYA HAS "LEGITIMISED" ALISTAIR AND MARGEAUX'S RELATIONSHIP

There's officially a new royal "It Couple" in town!

With today's Simbledon appearance, royal fans and royal watchers everywhere got a first "official" glimpse of Alistair and his new girl, Margeaux. And apparently, the simple tennis date is much bigger than it seems. One royal expert suggests:

"This was more than just going out to watch tennis. This was Al saying 'look, I'm taken, this is my girl and we're happy together.' The move is a slap on the face to all his detractors and for everyone criticising Margeaux.

For weeks now, since they were first spotted together, the two have been hounded by negative publicity and some even gave Margeaux the cruel monicker 'Princess Rebound.' But with this outing, the message is loud and clear: this is not just a fling. They're legit. Plus, you take into consideration that it came with Anya's mark of approval, you can say Margeaux's very much fitting in quite nicely with the royal bunch."

(Above: Prince Al and Margeaux, with the Prince's security detail, were photographed leaving Simbledon Arena.)

The difference between the Prince's latest relationship is said to be night and day compared to his previous romance with Ximena Kalarmy. A source close to the Prince shares:

"Al and Ximena were together for years, but we actually never got to see them 'out' except maybe for her restaurant opening. Everything else, they were all paparazzi shots of their private dates. But now, we see Al and he's really happy to be out with Margeaux.

With Ximena, there was a point when all the nasty stuff spewed by the press got to her and she was really insecure. That's despite the fact that Al never let her feel inferior. He made sure she knew he loved her. But that was never enough. Ximena got into her own head and eventually, that caused Alistair to call it quits with her. I think in the end, he got tired of having to tell her again and again that she's enough. A man can only take so much."

(Above: Chatting like old pals - Anya has welcomed Margeaux into the royal fold.)

Ximena's fear of not fitting in with the royals was reportedly an issue with the couple as well. The source further reveals:

"Whenever Al invites her to family outings and dinners, she'd shrink back and put up her walls again. It was a never-ending case of 'what-ifs': what if Anya doesn't like me? What if I use the wrong fork? What if I forget to curtsy? Do I have to curtsy? In the beginning it was normal, we don't all get to meet royals and there are certain formalities and protocols, but they were together for over three years, and she never got past that. It was clear to Al that it was always going to be an issue. But still, he loved her, and he was ready to marry her. When he got shot down because of those same issues, he just had it.

The sad part? The royals seemed to genuinely like her for Alistair. Even Prince Jacques thought that she was 'sweet.' All those stories about Anya and Ingrid snubbing her was not at all true. For starters, Anya is incredibly busy and isn't at all that invested with her sibling's love lives. It was Ximena and her walls that kept her distant from Al's family. Ingrid is arguably the nicest of the bunch and even she had to ask Alistair if she'd offended Ximena in any way because Ximena wasn't talking to her."

These revelations seem to clarify the whole Alistair+Ximena break-up, but we feel that it's a tad bit unfair to keep talking about the young lady, especially now that she's no longer with Prince Al. How about we appreciate Al's newest relationship and finally leave poor Ximena alone. Not all break-ups need a villain. Sometimes things just don't work between two people despite both of them loving each other.

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 story #simblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 royals #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal story #ts4 royalty #alistair #margeaux #ximena #mystory

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knuttydraws · 1 year

Text

Let me take a little break from posting art and share this little announcement with you all!

Templartations Exchange 2023 officially begins!

What is Templartations Exchange?

Templartations Exchange is a Discord server exclusive fics and arts exchange created to celebrate templars and ex-templars characters from the Dragon Age universe, such as Cullen Rutherford, Alistair Theirin, Raleigh Samson, Delrin Barris, Rylen, Carver Hawke, and others

How do I sign up?

Please follow the link to our Templartations Discord server Here, complete The Recruitment and look for the instructions in the Exchange channel

Event time table:

Nominations

March 25th - April 1st

Sign-ups

1 week: April 1st - April 7th

Assignments Issued

April 8th

Creation Period

6 weeks: April 8th - May 20th

Collection Goes Live!

May 27th

Creators Revealed

June 3rd

We look forward to seeing you there! Happy creating!

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #exchange #templars #ex-templars #cullen rutherford #alistair theirin #knight captain rylen #delrin barris #raleigh samson #carver hawke

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jinxed-games · 1 year

Note

Happy Valentine's, Author!! 💕💕

How would the ROs love to spend their Valentine's day with the MC?

The Mage: They'd plan a quiet, work-free night. Which for them (and for the MC) is a rare luxury. It would involve a mixture of the MC's and their favorite foods, music, and much-needed relaxation. Overall they'd aim for a calming day spent together.

The Royal: I am somewhat at a loss. They'd like something soft, and romantic. Alone time with their partner is all they would want. But they wouldn't know how to plan it? I can see them agonizing for weeks before the actual day. Someone would have to intervene and help them, at least for the first valentines.

Alistair: It'd be a day full of sappy, overly romantic cliches. He'd shower the MC with gifts (though they'd be tailored to the MC), send flowers, and end it all with a candlelit date night. Very classic, but ultimately the effort he'd put into it would be heartfelt.

Maeve: Her valentine's day plans consist of a few, you specific outings. If you're a music person, she'll take you to a music house or the opera. Enjoy nature? You'll go on a horseback ride and end the night with a picnic. It'd be a nice, romantic time together.

The Healer: I'm going to be honest here. Kyrin would try but valentines day is not their specialty. If they did remember valentines (and if they were reminded, they would) it would be... simple for lack of a better word. A small gift and maybe dinner would be the most they would do.

Dorin: Another person you shouldn't expect much from, he'd fall on cliches as well. He will try if he knows you're the type to care. He will even care enough to put in great effort. But in his mind, it'll all fall short. The dinner would be burnt (he tried cooking it himself) and the gift would be a bit plain (a merchant pressured him into buying it) but he would try.

The Oracle: She would keep it MC-specific. However, she’d keep all the activities involving other people or leaving the castle (if any) to the morning-noon. Then the rest of the day would be spent with her and her partner alone and uninterrupted.

Keala: She is a wealthy, over-exuberant noblewoman. You will be spoiled. She would clear your and Maeve's schedules and ensure that every day is spent appreciating both of you. It'd involve several meals, a picnic, and a full day of different outings.

#All RO's #Keala's first ask #and The Oracle's first official ask with the group #JinxSpeaks #RoE #The Mage #The Royal #Alistair #Maeve #The Healer #Dorin #The Oracle #Keala

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bennydwight · 1 year

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TGAMM Oneshot (Spoilers: S2E3 A Soda to Remember)

Summary: Practically every visit to the Ghost World in the past year had been a result of the Council dragging Scratch under, kicking and screaming the whole way. And now, here he was, seeking them out.

All because of a STUPID soda.

(A oneshot born from a headcanon. As always, ao3 format here)

Scratch hovered, staring at the swirling black portal, and wondered if he might be crazy.

He avoided the Ghost World on principle, too many people he couldn’t just disappear from if he didn’t want to be seen, too many eyes on him, especially now that he wore The Cloak. The food was serviceable at best and the company worse. Plus, practically every visit to the Ghost World in the past year had been a result of the Council dragging him under, kicking and screaming the whole way, so obvious negative connotations there.

And now, here he was, seeking them out.

All because of a stupid old soda.

Most of him was grateful to Molly, and Libby, and Darryl, for risking their safety on their dumb little heist. It showed (in their own obsessive, pushy, annoying way) that they cared for him, and he could appreciate that. But a smaller part regretted the whole ordeal, a pain in the neck that had opened too many doors.

Like this one. To the Ghost World.

Scratch turned away, the portal swirling closed behind him. This was stupid! He shouldn’t even bother making the trip to the Council, all they’d do was stuff him into the robe again and demand he make decisions that weren’t ‘where to hide the caramel ribbon ice cream so Sharon wouldn’t find it’. Lame, unimportant things, and a two minute trip would take two hours, and he had a nap scheduled that he couldn’t afford to miss, and—

A vehicle pulled away outside, the sound drifting in with a breeze that rustled the curtains, and Scratch was slammed into the Memory without warning: curly brown hair, a sunny smile that matched a yellow shirt, artificial strawberry on his tongue. “Every time we drink this soda, we’ll think of each other—”

And just as suddenly, the world crashed down again, leaving him disoriented and annoyed and shaken. He gripped his head in his hands and growled at the dark sensation of loss clawing open his gut, riding out the displaced emotion like a wave of nausea. Why? Why this memory? Why couldn’t he remember something nicer, like a family pet, or a nice meal, or even his own name?

The next portal opened, inches from his nose. Well that was embarrassing, he was making them involuntarily now.

Way too many open doors lately. In his head, in the ether, downstairs whenever Ollie came over. What he wouldn’t give for some closure.

Yeah right. Like he was ever that lucky.

Scratch paced in angry circles, fists flexing at his sides, all the while eyeing the new portal. He moved towards it, backed away. Advance, retreat. He turned his back on the twisting abyss, form tight with stress. No, he wouldn’t go, he’d call it off—

“That way, I’ll never forget you. And you’ll never forget me.”

Spirits below, fine!

He launched himself through the portal before he could change his mind. The Ghost World hit like a smelly, dour slap to the face. Or maybe that was just the vibe of the Council chamber. His four ‘advisors’ sat hunched over their massive curved desk, quill pens in hand, and not a single one of them looked up at his presence. Almost out of habit, Scratch flinched at the empty slot between them, the silhouette of the (former) Chairman looming in negative space before Scratch blinked and the illusion disappeared.

Not foreboding at all.

He waited, hovering over the spot where he was normally summoned. Nada. “A-hem.”

Alistair gestured over his shoulder to that huge, vacuous with his quill. “You know where to be, Scratch.”

Curse these chuckleheads and their rules. “Yeah, no, I’m not ‘Chairmanning’ today,” he fingerquoted. “Taking my two weeks vacation. All year.”

“Then you’re dismissed.”

Oooh no, no one could just dismiss Scratch anymore. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to be as far away from you guys as possible, but I got a quick question.”

“Is it about competency,” Bartholomew grinned nastily, “because then it won’t be quick.” The others sniggered loudly at the quip. It wasn’t even that funny! Pete could do better! Fury spiked down Scratch’s arms and back in a ripple of agitated ectoplasm, size swelling briefly as he fought down the urge to adopt a scare form. They’d probably just make some kind of dumb comment about how he could catch up on his scare quota.

There was really no one else in the Ghost World for these questions?

Through gritted teeth, Scratch bit out, “it’s about memories.”

Quills stilled and the Council glanced at each other in that secretive, in-jokey way that made his form bubble. Alistair set down his quill to rest his chin on the bridge of his hands, looking an equal mix of suspicious and smug. “What about memories?”

How to get them back? How to get rid of them forever? Suppression? Answers? All those felt too… personal. “Why do ghosts come here with out memories of their past life?”

Another infuriating round of glances, and Scratch was tempted to put The Cloak on just to yell at them in Scary Chairman Voice when Grimbella said, “All ghosts have memories.”

The world tilted, the metaphorical rug whipped out from his metaphorical feet, and the world dimmed as Scratch’s opacity flickered the slightest bit. All ghosts. A fact. So why didn’t he? “They remember everything?”

“Not exactly,” Lucretia set her quill down in its pot. Had none of them ever heard of pens? “The amount of retained memories change with the ghost, but generally important memories regarding personal identity remain intact.”

He’d intended to come into this conversation casually, but to his humiliation, Scratch burst like a dam. “But why only some memories?” He demanded, floating up to their desk and pacing again. “Why are some more important than others? Who decides? What makes a memory important enough to bring to the afterlife?”

Grimbella answered easily, not one iota of attention paid to his turmoil. “A ghost keeps them based on what they knew in life.”

Oh, if they’d been keeping this from him, he was going to sic the frightmares on them so fast. “What do you mean?”

“The exact details are still being researched,” Alistair admitted with a snooty shrug. “But patterns suggest that a ghost’s memories are most strongly linked to the interpersonal connections that they held in high regard during life.”

“Like you,” Scratch turned on Grimbella, and her cool disinterest brought up another surge of annoyance. “Grunhilda, or whatever. You know your name!” And he got it wrong on purpose out of spite.

A shimmer of satisfaction lit his core as her unflappable brow finally furrowed. “Grimbella,” she corrected icily, and Scratch made a mental note to get her name wrong at every possible opportunity. “It’s true, my family name was very important in my upbringing. Most of my strongest memories are of the pride my parents showed when teaching family history.” She trailed off, wistfully staring into the middle distance with a dreamy look. Gross.

“But names are a low bar,” Bartholomew cut in, casting Grimbella a side-eye. “An interpersonal relationship doesn’t have to be strong for a ghost to remember their name. As long as there was someone to give voice to a name during life, a ghost could remember it after death.”

“Not that you’d know much about that, Scratch,” Alistair pointed out greasily, and the next round of barely contained snickers nearly popped Scratch’s eyes out.

“At least I didn’t get stuck with a name that sounds like it crawled right out of a medieval toilet,” he snapped back.

Up went the quills again, their interest in him noticeably waning. “Don’t get waspish about it,” Alistair’s face hardened. “Some ghosts would kill to be in your position. Not all memories are warm and fuzzy.”

He’d mentioned something about his dad once, hadn’t he? On the list of ‘Things Scratch Cared About’, Alistair’s past was somewhere below ‘amount of carbohydrates in a loaf of garlic bread’, but recent events pulled a twinge of guilt from him.

He’d said he didn’t want to know. That was still true. And it wasn’t. Would he be better or worse if he’d remembered every second of being a lonely, bitter, jaded man in life? He’d still be Scratch either way, right? Except he wouldn’t be, he’d have a human name.

He’d absolutely been Scratch this morning. Now he wasn’t sure. Was anything about him real?

“Scratch?” His head whipped around to Lucretia, half from being torn out of his thoughts and half because he’d never heard her sound so gentle. Almost sympathetic. She still hunched over her book, but pinned him under an unreadable stare. “If it’s any consolation, there have been numerous cases of ghosts discovering more of their memories as their time here lengthens.”

Scratch’s colour shuddered, and he refused to believe it was hopeful. “How?”

“Through intense meditation and unparalleled self-discipline, of course.”

Scratch gagged. “Hard pass.”

Lucretia’s expression clouded back to it’s normal stormy gray. “Then I hope you enjoy your afterlife as a nobody.”

He knew a final dismissal when he heard it (those jerks, still finding a way to snub him even after he became their boss). He wasted no time building a portal back to Molly’s room, and the moment it closed behind him a huge weight lifted from above his head. Hello, Damocles. Ugh, every second he spent in the Ghost World was a second too long.

Something pulled insistently at his mind, and the ripples of his ectoplasm went still. The confusion and uncertainty and sorrow tearing at him as he faced the Council had… just flown away with that weight. He wasn’t a ‘nobody’ in this room, in this house.

He was Scratch McGee.

He had a best friend, and two (three?) good friends. He liked bread and ice cream and comedy, and thought the Crazy Carl movies were overrated, and got into arguments about it. He’d had a sleepover, and ridden a motorcycle, and hadn’t done pottery yet but still kind of wanted to try. He had a family that loved him, and a house, and a town.

Maybe he’d been someone before Scratch. But Scratch had a life too, and it was pretty darn good. A forgotten past didn’t make his present any less real. He had experiences and fun and wants and dreams, like any living person.

Like now, in fact. After dealing with the headache that was the Council, he dreamed of leftover meatloaf and a nap on the couch.

Maybe his past would come up again. Maybe not. But in the meantime, he’d enjoy being Scratch McGee.

END

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #tgamm season 2 #tgamm spoilers #scratch #the ghost council #writing #oneshot #cross posted on ao3 #memory headcanon #still kind of playing with the specifics of this headcanon #but i find it interesting that some ghosts can remember practically everything and others nothing at all

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canyouhearthelight · 1 year

Text

The Miys, Ch. 222

Sorting out actual new followers from bots has become.... very time consuming. You can’t see me, but I am pinching my nose right now. I love giving readers shout-outs, and the nasty little buggers are making it a challenge.

(That said, please be on the lookout for a post from @ areasontobreathe, my main blog, regarding fighting back against the bots. I’ll be sharing it here, but want to make sure the interactions don’t get mixed up.)

So, after much digging, reader shout outs this week go to: @asters-veil, @wings-of-indigo, @nao-eragon, @ann-aha, @lil-dabbler, and a special shout out to @dierotenixe, who is by no means a new follower but who I appreciate very much!

Also, as always, thank you to @baelpenrose for your beta-readership and help with the day to days. Huge huge help!

“This is frustrating,” Hannah sighed, gesturing towards the image projected above the table. “When is Parvati coming back?”

“When she’s ready,” I repeated for the sixth time that shift.

“And not a moment before, I should hope,” Alistair sniffed. “And if I feel that she’s been pressured to come back earlier than that, I will send her home and box each of you upside the heads. None of you take care of yourselves.”

My eyes nearly rolled out of my head. “I’ve been this way longer than you’ve known me,” I retorted.

“But there was no need to teach it to them!” he mock-cried, gesturing at Hannah.

She tried to hide a smile behind her hand. “Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m fairly sure I accepted the mentorship because I care for others. I certainly didn’t just learn it on the job.” Turning back to the projected map, she groaned again, dropping her hand. “This I did, though, and it’s still eluding me.”

Stepping around my desk, I moved to sit beside her. “Let’s take a look. What’s up?”

“I’m trying to balance currently-large families with soon-to-be-large families. Some of these spaces are fine for several adults, but not once children are added to the mix. Add storage areas, workspaces, and classrooms, and it just - “ she slowly stretched her hands apart and made a whoosh noise. “It just blows up.”

“Got it,”I nodded. “You’re forgetting one key factor.”

“There’s more!?”

“Less, Hannah,” I emphasized. “Less.”

“No, I accounted for everything,” she insisted.

“Hannah.” I set my hand on hers and gently shook it. “There won’t be any children for five years. People can move quarters as needed once that starts happening.”

Alistair sat across from us and pivoted the map. “Huynh will need to confirm, but it’s likely that we can expand some spaces. Will need to, more likely.” He glanced at me, questioning.

“He and Xio have been making noises about needing to at least smooth some walls out,” I confessed. Reaching with both hands, I zoomed and adjusted until I found one of the caves they had evaluated. “Look here. The cave is stable if these scans are accurate - which we believe they are since this one doesn’t vary between any of the scans. But the surfaces are very jagged. They think they can smooth it out, make some more space, and use the debris for construction material in other areas. There’s hundreds of spaces like these. Once the engineers have eyes on, we’ll know for sure.”

Hannah stood and leaned in, squinting. “Nosy thing. How do you find all this out?”

“Conor’s lead on the project,” I murmured. “He and Maverick go on for hours about it every night, like it’s a competitive sport or something.”

She slapped my shoulder. “And you didn’t think to get any prospective maps?”

“Ow!” I laughed, rubbing the spot. “They don’t have any yet! How dare you think I didn’t ask!”

“I’m not apologizing,” she insisted primly. “You still could have told me something sooner. I’ve been struggling with this for over a week.”

“You needed distraction,” I insisted. “We’ve all been worried about Parvati, and now we know she’s fine and coming back eventually. She even told me to tell all of you for her, to get it out of the way. So… not as much distraction needed. Instead, you need to focus.”

“I hate it when you’re devious,” she muttered, calling up her datapad to make notes.

“Devious, but right.”

“That’s even worse.”

I smirked and looked back at the map. Something looked wrong. After adjusting and turning it, then confirming it was oriented correctly, I pointed to it and turned to Hannah, darting eyes between her and Alistair. “Are we certain this is oriented correctly?”

Alistair nodded. “Crust, core, To, From, all oriented correctly.”

“There is no thermal mapping?”

So slowly that I swear I could hear her neck creaking, Hannah turned to face me, wide-eyed. “Thermal… mapping?”

“Yes? Where the heat from the surface and the hydrothermal vents are? Don’t want to assign someone to live in the bath.”

When she stared at me in panic and confusion, I glanced at Alistair. No recognition at all. “You have got to be shitting me,” I groaned. “You’ve been doing this with the thermal mapping off?”

The information seemed to have finally hooked into their minds, as Hannah dropped her head and growled in frustration. “You mean I have to start over completely?”

“I doubt it?” I offered gently. I pulled up my datapad, made sure the most recent scans were being used, then started adjusting the projection. Blues, greens, oranges, and reds filled the network of caves. After a couple more adjustments, springs and aquifers were overlaid. “There.”

Peeking up at the map, Hannah steeled herself and started cross checking caverns. Only a dozen or so caverns needed to be entirely vacated, while a few needed to be adjusted so that currently-larger families were in more appropriate quarters.

“There,” she said firmly after several minutes. “That’s much easier.” Dismissing it all, she leaned back and shoved her hair out of her face. “Probably best if I put it down for the rest of the day and come back fresh tomorrow. Trying to do this while frustrated isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

“Accurate,” I agreed. “What’s next on the agenda?”

It was Alistair’s turn to check his notes. “Updating work assignments has already been assigned to Tyche. Suggested locations of public works is part of the housing assignments… somehow. I assume that makes sense to Sophia.” Scrolling and mumbling to himself, he eventually stopped the list abruptly. “Decommissioning of the quiet rooms?”

Puffing out my cheeks, I blew an overwhelmed breath. “As close to last as we can manage,” I advised. “And I would like to keep the materials, take them with us. So we should do a full inventory of each one, to start, and see what can come with and what can’t.”

“We’ll need new lights in most,” Alistair observed offhand. “Only a handful have been converted over to Miss Harper’s bio-bulbs.”

“We have them,” Hannah clarified for him. “They were placed in storage as soon as we came out of relativistic space, since we would just have to take them down and relocate them six months after installation, anyway.”

“Good to know.”

“I want Sam and Conor consulted on who should help with relocating the plants in those rooms,” I continued. “Apparently they are very delicate, and I’ve been forbidden to do anything but pet them gently.”

“Duly noted,” Hannah let me know. “And you’d rather we consult with Conor and Sam than with, say, Grey? Technically, botany falls under their purview.”

“And they will refer us to Samuel, who will consult Mister MacMaoilir,” Alistair pointed out. “Unorthodox as it seems, it’s much shorter. Councilor Hodenson’s suggestion, actually.”

“Grey got very huffy and asked if we were idiots,” I whispered loudly to Hannah. “I know you are on good terms with them, please ask them going forward rather than perpetually stealing ten minutes of my time at a go. I am sure it occurred to you.”

“Ooo, very snippy,” she giggled. “Pillows and the rest, I think Sophia and I can pack.”

“And Alice, and Maverick,” I confirmed. “Lazybones that they are.”

Alistair rapped firmly on the table. “Neither of you are fooling anyone, calling those two lazy.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Arthur is my brother, not you. You don’t have to defend my partners from me.”

“I don’t have any brothers,” Hannah snorted. “Unless you count Derek as a brother-in-law.”

“I do.” Turning back to Alistair, I pushed down my habitual need to tease him. “That’s twice today that you’ve been very defensive of the people who work in this office. What is going on?” He opened his mouth, clearly about to bluster and object, so I held my hand up and turned my face away. “Don’t deny it. First you were salty about the fact that none of us take care of ourselves in the way you wish we would, and now you are making sure we know our partners pass muster. What is going on?”

Consternation clouded his face for a moment before he stood and started tapping his jawline with one hand. “I never had a family,” he blurted out. “And when I started reporting to this office, the sheer abandon with which Sophia bandied about the term was appalling. Just… Inconsiderate, uncouth. As though family were trinkets to be collected.”

“That explains why you hated Arthur so much,” I murmured.

“No, that was simply because the man is insufferable,” Alistair corrected, deadpan. “Nonetheless, over the years… Very simply, if they weren’t so open about the fact that their shared history goes back a full lifetime, I would never know that Tyche was the only biological family Sophia had on this Ark. And I am still unconvinced that Miss Harper is not playing a prank on me to hide the fact that she is the third Reid.”

“You yourself pointed out that I’m not a good liar,” I reminded him. “So did Miys.”

“Hence why I consider the fact it could be true,” he admitted. “But now, finding myself… enveloped in this appalling but genuine bastardization of family…”

“You want to be part of it,” Hannah finished. “Not just watch.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately. It’s… tenacious. Insidious, even.”

Several deep breaths enabled me to keep from laughing at his very genuine show of vulnerability. “So, you’re saying that you like us. You really do like us.”

Another scowl, though this one included a hint of a smile, and he shook his finger at us. “I will deny it until my dying breath.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #aliens #humans are space fae #hfy #haw #earth is space australia #original science fiction #original fiction #original sci fi #my writing

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