#I have so much story for her but no name lmao

[ovaryacted]

GUILTY AS SIN || I. INTACTUM

─ General Marcus Acacius x fem! virgin! reader || WC: 11.1k

SYNOPSIS: Being the daughter of a Senator of Rome has it's pros and cons, you lived comfortably while constantly being reminded of your insubordinate position in society. However, upon meeting General Acacius, your life changes as you begin to grow fond of him. The question is, will he reciprocate your feelings, or cast you out to suffer your impending doom of unwanted courtship?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUTTY. Girthy age gap assumed [Acacius is canon age/reader is around very early 20s]. Explicit Language. Formal dialogue. Mentions of patriarchal norms & customs. Comments on prostitution. Food and alcohol consumption. Talks of virginity & sexual experience. Yearning & longing. Mutual pining. Budding relationship. Unintentional/intentional courting. Kissing. Thigh Riding. Praise Kink. Terms of endearment (dove, little dove). Reader has hair & wears dresses & jewlery. Marcus Acacius is a romantic & respects women. Not entirely historically accurate.

➣ Note: Reader's Father’s Name - Julianus Novius Lurio. Handmaiden name - Viria. Pictures are for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: I truly did not mean to make this first part so long but it just happened, and I hope all of the work put into it is worth it cause I love this story lmao. Thank you so much to @pedgito for holding my hand and feeding into my delusions about the General, I am always grateful for your creative genius. Anyways, reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | AO3

Rome shone as bright as a star in the night sky, her streets bustling with the sounds of trade and the footfalls of soldiers patrolling the great city’s stone roads. The rooftops were tinted with shades of gold, her wealth and opulence evident through every brick and weed of grass that touched the very ground of her sacred body. There is and will only be one Rome, and you were one of the lucky few to live and experience it in all of its glory.

You were blessed by the Gods to experience all of Rome’s treasures, bathing in the luxuries of fresh fruit and the finest silks. The gifts you’ve been given were all thanks to your father Julianus Novius Lurio, a sitting politician on the Roman Senate who has made a living by managing the exchanges of commerce throughout the city. No doubt a man of power, your father had made a name for himself amongst the other senators, growing close ties with several leaders and particularly, the generals of the Roman army. Of course, that included the formidable General Marcus Acacius, whom he requested to discuss what he called “business matters.”

Answering the politician’s call, the General stepped foot into the quaint domus on the Palatine Hill, a bit ways off from the Emperor’s palace, silently admiring the granite floors and chiseled columns. He may not enjoy engaging with men of politics, but he can’t deny the gaudy and expensive taste laid out before him.

“General Acacius! Welcome, I have been expecting you.” The general was met with a man draped in bright blue and white linen cloth, the purple latus clavus accessorized his toga and held it together.

“You called for me, Senator Lurio?”

“Yes. I meant to speak with you regarding the current expansions into the regional provinces. I hear you were successful in the conquest?” Acacius eyed the politician with a straight face, dull in comparison to the excitement of the man before him. 

“The residents surrendered their land freely and faced minimal bloodshed. We expect an influx of a few hundred soldiers to the army under my discretion.”

“A shame that you did not partake in bloodshed. I am sure you understand Rome’s hunger for it.” It was as if the man craved the innermost details of what took place on the battlefield, every gruesome mention of the lives lost and the meticulous ways the General pillaged through entire villages. It disgusted him, but he swallowed down the feeling and maintained a neutral expression as he’s trained himself to do.

“I do. I was under the impression we would discuss the wages for the new expansion, per the Emperor’s request, I assume.” It was an attempt to shift to the real reason he came here, not wanting to prolong his stay more than needed.

“Ah, yes, the wages. Come, we shall review in my study.”

General Acacius stepped further into Lurio’s home, past the columned hallways with his additional guards following along. As his broad figure strolled by the atrium, he turned to a clearing in the center of the Domus, eyes capturing the fountain before landing on another figure.

You were situated on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the clearing, tossing pieces of watermelon and blueberries to the koi fish that swam below you. The sun reflected over the water as you were bent on the side, casting a radiant glow over your silhouette. The fabric of your lilac stola draped over your body like an ocean’s tide, small jeweled earrings adorning your ears, and your hair pinned to the side, falling over your shoulder in riveting curls.

Lifting your head to spot the man walking into your home, you held his gaze as he continued to wander past you. Your curious eyes bore holes into his dark brown ones, captivated by the faint sparkle in his irises for a mere second before he focused his attention ahead of him. Your watch remained on the width of the General’s back as he trekked away from you, taking in the last bits of his figure before the doors of your father’s study closed down the hall.

“Something troubles you, my lady?” The voice of your handmaiden snapped you out of your slight daze, shifting to meet her warm and familiar gaze.

“No, Viria, nothing of the sort.” You reassured her, shaking off the buzz you gained from meeting another man’s glances so intensely.

Who was that man?

General Marcus Acacius, you’ve soon come to learn, had become a familiar face within the walls of your home. Once every few days, his chiseled face would grace your halls again, taking the same pathway to your father’s study, and the wooden doors would keep him locked away and out of sight. You would follow his path without fail, and as you expected, his head would turn to meet your waiting eyes, usually sitting by the atrium or walking to one of the other rooms nearby.

At one instance, you could’ve sworn you caught the ends of his lips flexing when he caught you in your usual spot, his glare wavering longer after every visit. Your heart beat faster whenever you saw him nearby, admiring the gray streaks in his curly hair and his aquiline nose. You grew more inquisitive of the General, primarily knowing him by name and nothing else that would suggest a level of acquaintanceship.

Your father refused to say anything about the General or his political affairs beyond what you already knew or could figure out. Politics are no place for a young woman, much less war. You keep your nose out of it and maintain your role in the home. You could practically hear your father’s voice rattling in your mind, forcefully reminding you of your minuscule existence in his life. A man who should be guiding you through the tumultuous times of your youth instead gave his heavy hand where it belonged, keeping you sheltered from anything that doesn’t revolve around being the daughter of a man who craved power and influence.

Unfortunately for you, part of that reminder was based on keeping up appearances whenever your father was called to partake in grand celebrations after a successful campaign overseas. Being born into a wealthy household with a prestigious name has granted you material goods not easily attainable for others, a compromise to the lack of emotional security you were given as an indirect result of losing your mother during childbirth. Your father regarded you with a face of resentment and a mouth full of venom for most of your life, the fluctuating presence of housemaids to care for you were the only individuals who held you with a loving touch. Viria, your personal housemaiden who was a decade older than you, has been a constant part of your life once you reached the age of 10, offering the guidance and support one should receive from a maternal figure. Though as you continue to age into early adulthood, you now see her more as the older sibling you never had.

Of course, your father’s disdain towards you was brushed off when your arm wrapped around his and your hand clutched his bicep as you walked alongside him in the banquet hall. Another successful conquest, more territory was added to the empire, and sufficient blood was shed to satisfy the Emperors enough to throw a feast in celebration. Like many of Rome’s subjects, you had a duty to fulfill, dressing in your finest garments and wearing your best jewelry to emphasize your status.

Walking through the crowds of men who were too similar to your father, you managed to get by with faint smiles and cautious waves. You played your part well, speaking only when spoken to, and letting your father control the conversations he brought you into, a sad opportunity for his colleagues to take their chances at asking for your hand.

“I have a son traveling in Athens who is in need of a wife. Your daughter has surpassed the necessary age and remains unmarried, no?”

“I have been preoccupied with work as of late to think about marriage for my daughter. Though, if there is an offer on the table, I will consider it.” Your father didn’t bother to look at you as he toyed with the idea of how much your virtue was worth.

“You best hurry if you want an offer from a suitor at all, or maybe she would be a better fit for the bathhouses.” Your father booms into a laugh at the recommendation while you bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood, masking it with a cordial grin.

You endured the distasteful jests from your father’s circle of colleagues, holding your tongue and swallowing the bile that threatened to eject from your mouth. The more stares that were thrown your way blatantly picking you apart, the more you wished you had stayed home, away from the reminders that you were nothing but a placeholder until you met your doomed fate of becoming someone’s concubine or plaything.

Having lost your appetite some time ago, you sneaked away from your father’s grasp once he was pulled by his associates, immersed in the generous cups of wine and the touches of the young “entertainers.” You held your glass close to your body as you walked out searching for a clearing far from the noise, desperate for fresh air.

Thankfully, you found a balcony on the backside of the banquet, relatively empty and quiet. The music drowned out behind you as you inhaled some air, exhaling the rest with your eyes closed before opening them again. Looking at the view in front of you, the neighboring lights gleamed brightly in the night as the common folk turned into their quaint homes beyond the hill. You didn’t know how long you spent staring off into the distance until someone interrupted your moment of peace.

“Not fond of the festivities?”

You turned to the sound of a gruff voice, eyes slightly widening to spot none other than the General himself, not too far from where you currently stood. As expected, he wore his signature white and gold celebratory armor, reserved for special occasions when he returned to Rome victorious. You couldn’t help but notice the golden cuffs wrapped around his thick wrists, glowing in the dark of the night, paired with the ring on his finger that carried his insignia.

“General Acacius. Had I known you were here, I would have brought my father to speak with you.” Ah yes, you were being friendly, as you had to be when you were in a public setting like this, unaccompanied at that.

“I believe I have spoken with him plenty. On the other hand, you always lingered in the background during my visits.” The mention of him noticing you brought the familiar quiver you’d get once your eyes met. Humming in response, you replied with a nod.

“Not one to discuss politics. Father keeps me out of it, says there is no place for women in that realm.” Taking a sip of your wine, you focus again on Acacius, giving him your undivided attention as his position demands. “Do you usually hide away from banquets in celebration of your conquests?”

That comment brought a slight grin to the General’s aged face, the skin beside his eyes creased as the corner of his lips curled. He covered it by taking a sip from his goblet, holding the glass with one large hand, fingers splayed over the edge of it.

“I do not care much for these feasts. This is all for show, so I have come to learn.”

“Yet your name is the one people chant in the streets. Is that all for show as well?”

At that notion, he peeked at your face, met with genuine curiosity rather than what he anticipated to be ungrateful criticism. He took a minute to think of his reply, reading your expression as genuine compared to the obedience he expected from the average commoner.

“No, the people have the right to celebrate however they please. After all, they are safe within these walls, they can be as extravagant as they see fit. To honor and memorialize, it is what we fight for.” He shifts to lean forward on the balcony’s edge, placing his arms on the marble railing and looking off to the outskirts of the hill. “The people are unaware of what lies beyond the gates. If drinking wine and feasting for one night is the result of pillaging across the region, then that is what must be done.”

You observed him as he spoke, watching the flex of his jaw with every word that came from his plush lips. Trailing your eyes upward, you saw the pink scar along the apple of his cheek, beginning to fade and mesh into his sun-kissed skin. You silently wondered how many more marks littered his body, how many more stories he had etched into the limbs that carried him across the region to collect more.

“Do you enjoy it?” Your inquiry caused the General to raise an eyebrow in your direction.

“Enjoy what?”

“Being the General, having power, having the army at your disposal. Do you enjoy it?”

Another considerate question from you. You wouldn’t be able to tell if he admired your ability to hold a conversation or if you were beginning to irk his nerves by being too probing. Acacius had a choice: he could end the conversation and be off on his way to return to the banquet or feed into the novelty of his psyche. He chose the latter, inhaling a breath of air before releasing it in a sigh.

“Truthfully, I am not sure. Being a General and a soldier, this is who I am, this is what I know. It is what was destined for me to become.” He took another second to collect his thoughts, sipping his wine again and shifting his attention towards you. “And do you enjoy being the daughter of a politician?”

Having your question reiterated back to you threw you off. You moved your focus from Acacius to the liquid in your goblet, swirling it around and watching the ripples unfold as you pressed your back to the railing’s edge.

“It is a complex feeling, and I cannot take the blessings bestowed upon me for granted. But this,” you waved your hand around to signal towards the banquet where the festivities continued, “these events, I do not enjoy. It may be my duty to make appearances, and perhaps this role I have been given was also destined for me, but I do not enjoy it any less.”

“So that is why you dwell from a distance?” Glancing at Acacius from the corner of your eye, you were met with equal interest.

“It is what I know, what I am meant to do. Observe and watch from afar as my father finances the empire’s wars.”

You had to choose your words carefully, being this outspoken about your father in front of a man associated with him, the General nonetheless, could bear severe consequences. He could have your tongue cut out for speaking out of turn, strip you of your title, and send you to fend for yourself on the streets. Instead, he offered sympathy and understanding. A man of his ranking had no business showing you kindness, much less consideration, but Acacius awed you. 

“Duty. A blessing and a curse in disguise. It gives us something to live for and takes just as much.” You must’ve been quiet for too long when Acacius straightened himself to look at you, standing at full height to hover over you.

“Do not fret, you will keep your tongue. I hold no ill will outside of understanding, and your father will not know what we discuss here.” Blinking a few times, you finally remembered words, shaking off your shock and returning to the present.

“Thank you, General. I am appreciative of your words and consideration.” He tilted his head towards you in acknowledgement before he mimicked your prior action, swirling what remained of his drink.

“I do wonder…if you had a choice, what would duty be for you?”

“I did not strike you as a man of hypotheticals.” He grins again.

“I am not, but we have the capacity to fantasize. Indulge me this once, your answer in exchange for mine.” Pausing to think just as he did at the beginning of this encounter, it embarrassed you to admit the truth, but one look at the man and you couldn’t resist confessing what occupied your imagination.

“If I had the ability to choose, I would be away from here, from Rome. I wonder what life is like beyond this city, what the sea smells like, what you see during your travels, even in the name of war. I do not wish to stay bound to politics and what it brings.” Your explanation secured a satisfied hum from Acacius, as honest as you could be you stood true in your reply.

“And now, what is your answer?” He hesitates a second before he speaks.

“I wish to strip myself of my armor in favor of some land, somewhere far away by the coast, where I could fish and trade for goods. A simple and quiet life, a fulfilling one different from what’s been given to me.” The idea of this man beside you exchanging his sword and honor for the life of the standard fisherman amused you, not being able to visualize it yourself. You knew better than to find it outright ridiculous, rather, it was noble.

“Perhaps in another lifetime, you would be a fisherman, and I a traveler. Our paths can cross momentarily, and we will go on our merry way as strangers.” The thought brought a genuine smile to Acacius’ face, both ends of his lips coiling up followed by a deep chuckle, much to your enjoyment.

“In another lifetime.”

You both drank to that, Acacius finishing his glass while yours remained half full. Enjoying the next few beats in silence, you didn’t mind sharing the space with the man you’ve taken a sudden liking to, knowing deep down this was the last thing you should be doing. All too soon, the moment is broken by Acacius’ voice.

“I must return to the banquet, but you have made this night more interesting than expected.” Inside you felt accomplished at something, proving yourself to be worthy beyond being invisible.

“Likewise, General.”

Much to your surprise, his hand reached for yours, daintily holding it between his fingers. You could feel the texture of his digits, years of sword wielding painted rough indents up the length of his palm. Bringing your hand to his lips, he bestows a soft kiss over your knuckles, his mustache brushing your skin before pulling away. You counted the extra second he held your grasp with an affectionate squeeze to remember you by, capturing the small smile he sported that tugged at your heart.

“Do not linger for long.”

As soon as his words left him, Acacius slipped away and walked back into the hall to meet with others who were waiting to speak with him. You looked towards the entryway much more than you should have, staying outside to enjoy the fresh air a little longer before returning to the suffocating feast in search of your father, inebriated from the drinking and stuffed full of the food that was provided.

The whole way back home, your hand tingled from when the General held it in his, pulse spiking at the thought. It worsened as you found yourself restless in bed, mind reliving the moment Acacius reached for you. You were sure he was simply being kind to you, but for the moment, you would like to dream of the hypotheticals that vexed your mind in the wee hours of the night.

It had been a few weeks since you spotted Acacius nearby, the conversation and time you both shared the night of the banquet was still on your mind. There were moments where you’d anxiously wander about in your home, finding something to do to keep yourself occupied rather than thinking about the next time the General would make an appearance. Thankfully, your father hadn’t taken any notice of your recent fidgeting, too engrossed with the current politics in the Roman Senate to offer any respite to your growing concern.

Thankfully, you were able to step outside and enjoy some time away from the stuffy walls of your bedroom. With your handmaiden Viria in tow, you drew your palla over your head and made your way to a busier area of the city meant to bargain for goods you deemed necessary to have. Despite your father being a rather cruel and controlling man, he allowed you to invest in things in the home when he didn’t have the time to care about it.

At least in that regard, you were fulfilling your duty as the lady in the home.

Viria remained closeby to keep you company, conversing as you made your way on horseback first before walking the rest of the way. You didn’t mind taking the long way, enjoying the scenery of shrubbery and the other homes you rode by until the roads turned to dirt and sand as you reached other communities of people.

The markets had been busy at the start of today, walking down the main road to select a few stalls and speaking to the merchants you recognized. There were several things on your mental checklist to buy, fruits grown and distributed to other households, fresh spices for Viria to give to the servants for the next meal along with cuts of meat that can be cured and stored for later.

Your favorite stand was of an older lady who sold a variety of fabrics, some you loved to use to make a combination of stolas and pallas. Of course, most of your outfits will go to waste from constantly staying at home, but that doesn't mean you can't wear more than one standard dress. Running your fingers through the different colored fabrics, you came across varying types: wool, linen, silk, all of different textures and some with distinct patterns.

A roll of light green silk fabric caught your eye, asking the woman for the price and deciding if it’s something worth bargaining for. Just as you were about to reach into your pouch for some golden denarii, another arm came from behind you, providing the denarius coins and dropping them in the palm of the dealer who marveled at none other than the General.

“You can add on a brooch if you would like, consider it a gift.” Acacius said calmly, the sound of his voice gracing your ears grabbed your attention in an instant.

“General Acacius, strange to find you here of all places. Should you not be elsewhere?” While you questioned him, you didn’t notice the way Viria glanced at the two of you as she wrapped up the green fabric to bring back home.

“I returned from another assignment the previous night. Figured I would do a patrol by the market to see if I had missed anything during my travels.”

“And does covering another citizen’s purchases count as one of your assignments?” Your cheeky response almost broke the facade of the serious and feared General, but instead he held his ground and concealed the smirk that threatened to make an appearance.

“When I have the time, yes. Though most people are not as quick to counter my generosity.” His face may not have shown that he was explicitly joking with you, but you could tell from his tone of voice he was being sarcastic. “Do you mind if I accompany you on your errands?”

You gave him a do-over, as if to test whether or not to take him seriously, met with sincerity. You peeked over to Viria, who practically shooed you towards the General’s direction, encouraging you to say yes. Eyes landing on Acacius again, you nodded, taking a step ahead while he stayed near, keeping his hands to himself as Viria walked behind.

“Do you usually come to this part of the city? I would think the house servants preferred to purchase what is needed for the home.” Marcus commented, wondering what were the conditions that permitted you to venture off this far from home in the first place with just your housemaiden.

“I enjoy coming here, it is a nice change of pace when the other option is staying confined to my home full of boredom.” You stated, heading towards another stand to look at a cluster of grapes, paying for it with one hand and placing it in your basket.

“And yet you are unaccompanied.”

“Viria is enough. I enjoy her company.” You haven’t looked at him since he began walking next to you, holding the basket of goods to your front.

“That is not what I meant. Surely your father must be concerned for your safety.” His face angled towards you to see your eyebrows furrowing at the thought in defiance.

“You would be surprised to know I do not need additional chaperones to roam the city I was born in. I can handle myself.” Your rebuttal didn’t seem to please Acacius, a bubble of concern inhabiting his mind, but he refused to act out on it and pushed the idea to the side.

“I do not doubt you know how to conduct yourself when needed. Though, Rome has become dangerous for those that stick out. Your pretty garments and jewelry are a magnet for thieves.”

Did he think the way you dressed was sensible? Pretty even?

You ignored the small thought, continuing on your walk with the General standing tall. Some of the shoppers in the vicinity kept their nosey eyes on you, some women muttering disengaging gossip under the palms that covered their mouths. The thought that there was possible conversation involving you and the General in any capacity unnerved you, but there was no point in acknowledging something so miniscule.

“I will manage, as I always do.” You stopped by one last stall, an array of fresh flowers catching your eye.

Offering the seller a courteous smile, you looked over the selection before you. Roses, violets, dahlias, lilies, and several others. The General watched from behind you, how intently you touched the stems of each flower as if they were made of porcelain. You picked up a variety in your hand to make a small bouquet for yourself, passing it to the merchant to wrap in ribbon. Exchanging the neat bundle of flowers for some coin, you placed it in your basket, keeping in mind to tell one of your servants to drop them in a vase with fresh water.

��My lady, we must return.” Viria reminded behind you, just as one of Acacius’ soldiers whispered something in his ear, probably informing him that someone else called for him.

“I must go. Perhaps I will see you again when you visit my father, General.” You said, taking two steps from Acacius before he answered.

“Yes, perhaps. But if you would like to discuss other matters more privately…I may have a suggestion.” Turning on your heel, your eyebrow rose in confusion, seeking clarification from him. “There is a clearing not far from here, a garden of sorts. It is quiet, away from prying eyes. I wish to speak to you more and tell you of my travels when I am here.”

The thought of being with Acacius was one thing, even if it was fleeting, but being alone with him for a certain period of time brought a shiver over your back that you tried your best to disregard. You held your composure and was selective with your words despite the way your chest tightened at the offer.

“Then I am not opposed to meeting again when we are both able to.” Your confirmation was the thing that cracked Marcus’ facade, his lips twitching into a smirk only you would be able to see.

“I will look forward to our next meeting.”

The General returned to his stoic persona and sauntered out of the market with his guards, leaving you and Viria behind as you made your way to your horses. Your housemaiden didn’t say anything on the ride back home, and you made sure to erase the small smile on your face before you walked through the front doors.

The next time you get to see the General is at this clearing he mentioned you to go to, somewhere that was familiar to Viria, an isolated garden she used to go to as a child before she was brought into your home by your father. She comes along to bring you to the location, stepping over a cobblestone road and small bumps in the ground before you find yourself at the center of lush greenery.

The landscape had changed over the years you were certain of it, thick vines crawling up the brick walls that provided a sense of privacy, hiding you from the outside world. You were surrounded by overgrown shrubbery, pockets of wildflowers growing rampant through the ground, vibrant in color and varying in shape. On one side, a forgotten fountain now victim to moss and algae dominated a corner, lily pads floating over the surface. A thick tree off to one side overcasted shade on a marble bench, roots gripping the base and embedded into the faded stone.

“I see you have found your way.” Acacius’ voice made you abruptly turn to face him, dressed in his usual armor, the golden gorgon head staring back at you. “Forgive me, I would have preferred to change into something less…formal.”

“No harm done, General. I do not mind.” You twirl your thumb, staring to the ground to avert his gaze. “Viria guided me here, says she used to come here as a child so she knew the route.” He hums.

“That was kind of her. And have you been here before?” You shook your head, looking around your surroundings to take in the view.

“Never managed to venture too far from home, this little area is new to me. But I must say, it is quite beautiful, reminds me of a small sanctuary.”

“Yes, exactly that.” Acacius takes a step forward, now closer to where you stood. “When I was younger, I would come here when I needed time to think or a moment in solitude. I still visit from time to time when I can, but commanding the Roman army can be quite demanding.”

“And here I thought it was the easiest thing for you to do, having strong and brute men at your disposal.” Sarcasm dripped from your tongue as the General chuckled, his usual upright posture more relaxed.

“It might seem easy when you are not the one responsible for 5,000 lives fighting in the name of the empire every day, but I guarantee you it is quite the opposite.” As he spoke, you pondered about his intentions of bringing you here, considering that the other two instances you spoke with him were surface level at best.

“Why did you bring me here, General? I am sure you are needed in other parts of the city, not in this isolated place with the daughter of a senator.”

“Well, to put it simply, I enjoy conversing with you,” he stood in front of you, holding your gaze as he towered over you. “You have an honest way of thinking and you speak without restraint in front of me, something I have yet to encounter with others. It is refreshing.”

“Oh, so this is because I do not bend at the knee in your presence the way most do?” Your quick wit still took Acacius off guard at times, never having met a woman who was able to bite back so quickly, even in a joking manner.

“It could be, or I simply find you interesting enough to speak with outside of my obligations, ours.” Your eyes met as you analyzed each other, peering into the chocolate brown orbs that mirrored you in your study. “What do you say?”

Some light conversation couldn’t hurt, right?

“As long as you keep your word to remain interesting, then I do not see why I would deny you, General Acacius.”

It quickly became a routine to meet Acacius here when you were both in the city at the same time, whether it be him coming from patrols, training his soldiers, or meeting with politicians and the Emperors, he still found a way to meet you at this little place you’ve made your own. Initially, it started with icebreakers and familiarizing how to talk to someone of polarizing status, and later eased into learning more about each other while your father remained oblivious of your actions.

The General was a man of stories, frequently retelling his travels and the things he’s seen during his campaigns. He spares you of the details of violence that haunt him in his sleep, and you refrain from asking, more interested in everything else he has to tell you. He talks about his homeland, the things he remembers living in a smaller village with his mother before he trained to join the army, climbing up the ranks to reach his current position. The meals he likes to eat, his favorite scents and colors of fabric, all things meshed into this budding friendship as you come to learn more about Acacius and less about the renowned General of Rome.

When it came to him learning about you, well there were things you enjoyed talking about and things that you’d prefer to keep secret.

Your face brightened with enthusiasm when you spoke about the things you’ve read in the books found in your father’s study, describing the different regions under Rome’s dominion and the territories the empire wished to control. You had a newfound curiosity with other cultures and languages, mostly asking the man next to you of things he may or may not know, answering with fable tales from his memory and battle songs carried on through generations. Anything about your father or the topic of courting made you uneasy, so Acacius refrained from asking about the tense relationship with your paternal figure. Within the time you’ve spent together he knows enough to understand it’s a sensitive topic, and he would prefer to avoid upsetting you in any way.

On the rare occasion the General wasn’t able to meet you, he’d leave a note behind on the bench for you to find, offering words of reassurance and a promise that he will return when he can, bringing more stories of his findings and keeping you in the back of his mind. The lines between you began to blur when the conversations turned into more unscripted, intimate memories and jokes between you in this bubble you’ve created for yourselves away from the controlling eyes of your father and the rest of Rome.

He’s made you laugh on more than one occasion, slapping away at his chest as he witnessed the way you threw your head back. You realized you enjoyed toying with the General, always ready for a smart comeback to every rebuttal he gave you. He liked the way you had a mind of your own, not easily swayed by the customs that frequently plagued the women of Rome into subordination. At least in the comfort of Acacius, he let you speak your mind freely, without scrutiny or judgement, and you appreciated the fact he granted you that in more ways than can be said.

“When do you leave?” You asked Acacius once, leaning against him as you both sat on the marble bench, basking in the sun that slipped through the tree’s coverage above you.

“In three days. It should be a quick venture, something the Emperors requested of me to do before they make plans of a larger conquest.” He felt you sigh at his words, tilting his head to rest against yours, cradling you with his weight. “You do not need to worry, I will return in one piece.”

“I know, I just hate when you have to go.” You admitted to him, as you have a few times now over the course of building this relationship between you. It was friendly at most, and having him as your confidant is what you valued.

“I do not enjoy leaving any less, believe me. I would much rather stay here a while longer with you, dove.” The sound of the nickname he’s given you brought a smile to your face, something that came when he mentioned how you carried yourself like a dove but had the personality of a hawk with how observant you were. It made you laugh then, not bothering to correct him, and now the name stuck to you like the clothes you wore.

“Will you bring me something from your travels?” You asked, twisting to look at him with a mischievous glint to your eye. “You forgot to do that the last time you left.”

“Yes, I did come empty handed, how inconsiderate of me.” A chuckle came from you at his tease, rolling your eyes at him. “I will find something to bring you if I can.”

“Good, I should be expecting a new trinket to add to the collection.” He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief at how easy it was to just talk to you about anything under the sun. His large hand reached for yours, moving his thumb over your fingers. It was a comfort thing he liked doing, and you never minded when he did it. Frankly, you didn’t want him to stop.

Just as quickly as the moment started, it had to come to an end. Viria came by to interrupt the two of you, signaling that it was time to leave before your father came back from his meetings.

“My lady, it is time.” Your housemaiden declared, pivoting to let you enjoy the last few minutes you had with Acacius. He stood up when you did, following your lead and dropping his hold on your hand, much to your disappointment.

“I wish you safe travels, and will pray to the Gods for your return.” Your fingers touched the metal brooch holding his tunic together, straightening the material out before he had to return to the real world.

“I am always appreciative of your kindness. Until next time, dove.” He brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss over your knuckles and looking at you as he did so, the touch stirring you more than it should. He did the honors of pulling part of your palla over your head, letting you part from him to leave the small garden, making your way back home much to your dismay.

“The General fancies you, my lady.” You heard Viria declare when you were alone, still making your way to the domus.

“No need to be ridiculous, it is merely friendship.” You weren’t in the mood to entertain the idea, and she could only smirk at your attempt to deflect.

“A man like him speaking to you in a secluded area is not friendly, my lady. If he wished, he would do it in the public eye, but I understand that he cannot given his position.” Viria concluded, declining to answer or refute against that. You didn’t think much of what she said anyway, though it kept you wide awake until the next morning.

The next few days, you knew Acacius was gone, but you still went over to the garden for some peace and quiet with Viria following one of your market trips. When you arrived, you were surprised to find another one of Acacius’ notes with a red rose securing the letter to the marble bench. Picking up the flower’s stem, you delicately touched the rose’s petals, sniffing it to take in its scent. The smile on your face was soft as it was expected, chest warm at his thoughtfulness to leave this behind while he was out on assignment.

You thought back to what Viria told you a few days ago, and in the safety of your mind, you’d like to think she was right.

As he promised, Acacius returned to Rome unscathed on his recent trip, visiting your father the day following his arrival. You stood by the hall to congratulate him on his success, courteous as you always were and maintaining the facade of politeness. It was satisfactory for your father, glad that you had enough sense to show General Acacius your gratitude for keeping us safe. He brushed off Senator Lurio’s slick comment, saying his thanks and walking into your father’s study as he’s done so many times before. The next day, you met him at your usual spot, being handed a seashell he brought back while he was away.

Found this on the coast, I snuck it under my armor plate and kept it safe until I could give it to you. The sight was beautiful, it reminded me of you while I was away.

You sat happily with him as he told you everything that happened on his travels, holding the new seashell with one hand and the other in his, letting him clasp his fingers over yours in his lap as you both leaned against the tree in the garden. You listened to every word he had to give, ignoring the rapid beating of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

The Gods must have punished you with the growing affection you felt towards the General. Yet, you knew better than anybody that there was no reality where that bond would work beyond what you had. Concealing your inner turmoil and swallowing your pride, you wished Acacius a good day and night of peaceful rest once Viria came to say your time was up, not knowing when you’d see him again so consistently.

Night fell over Rome, an ease blanketing the rest of the city as everyone turned in for the evening. Already bathed with your skin clean and moisturized by your favorite oils, you adorned a long sleeve silk nightgown, the purple material pooling at your feet, wishing the house servants a good night and giving Viria a kiss on her cheek. You enjoyed the silence of the domus without the anxieties of your father being home, having left the city for a few days to meet with other politicians. You walked around the halls barefooted and stopped by the atrium to sit on the edge of the fountain. Dipping your fingers to touch a lily pad, you followed a singular koi fish that swam away from you, mindlessly thrumming along the water. A shadow appeared in front of you, lifting your head to spot Acacius standing across from you, dressed in a black cloak.

“General?” you called out to him in a whisper, standing to meet him face to face. “What are you doing here? How did you manage to enter without being seen?”

“I found an opening from behind and avoided the guards up front. Do you not consider me tactful?” He replied, removing the hood from his head to show his face. Without another word, you took his hand and brought him to your bedroom, closing the doors behind him and silently praying nobody saw him come in.

“There is no need for you to be here, General. It is quite late.” You muttered to him, stepping back to glance at him once again. You noticed he was wearing his casual clothes, a simple white tunic paired with some sandals, the fabric cutting off right at his thick thighs.

“Maybe so, or I simply wanted to see you again before I turned to my bed.”

“And here you come to disturb me as I am about to turn into mine.” There was a lilt to your voice as you spoke to him, a cheekiness that was only reserved to when he inhabited your space. He’s grown to like that about you, how you saw him simply as a man and not just his status alone. It was refreshing in ways he couldn’t explain, and the gravitational pull he felt towards you grew stronger as the days passed.

“You can tell me to leave if that is what you wish. I am merely seeking more of your companionship.” You wished he would clarify what kind of companionship he was looking for. If it were any different, you’d suggest the brothel or the bathhouses, where his needs could be better met with a woman of experience compared to a novice of the real world.

“You have already come all this way, might as well stay for a while.” Shrugging at the suggestion, you walked to your vanity to finish your routine, when really you were trying to find something to do other than gawk at him.

“I see your father has yet to return from his trip.” Marcus stated, moving to sit on the edge of your bed to face your back. “He is still occupied with his affairs?”

“He mentioned something about seeking more council further out from the Republic. For when he arrives, I am not sure.” Speaking casually, you brushed through your hair as it cascaded over the sides of your face, not realizing how Acacius was staring at your reflection.

“Something troubles you, dove.” It was a statement more than a question, acting like the voice of reason and so level headed when you weren’t.

“It is nothing.”

“Tell me anyway. I am here to listen.” Your eyes met on the mirror of your vanity, the chocolate brown irises that captivated you from the beginning holding your gaze. With a sigh, you paused your brushing, messing with the bristles of the hairbrush and looking downward.

“I wonder what it is like to get the things I want and desire. You men can do everything. Can choose where to go, who to see, you dictate when the sun sets and the moon rises. I am nothing like my father, and yet my whole life must be dictated by him and him alone. I resent it, I resent him.”

Acacius remained quiet as he offered a listening ear. He knows plenty of how your reality affects you, how you feel like you’re nothing more than a bird in a cage, growing restless at wanting to be free, to live the life you deserve. Sadly, it wasn’t that easy, you knew it wouldn’t be.

“You have wants and desires, many of them that you should get. Despite the man being your father, he should not be the one to strip you of your ability to find enjoyment in living, to want more.”

“And it is far from simple,” you exasperated, now standing from your vanity and turning to face him, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to self soothe. “Does my happiness truly mean so little to my father that he is willing to sell it for the right price?”

In an instant, Acacius stood up and took hold of your hands, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles to provide some comfort from your thoughts. You blinked at the sudden movement, not rejecting it, but not expecting it either.

“Your happiness and comfort should matter to any man you share company with. Those who do not prioritize you are cowards who should not have the privilege of being called men at all.” He couldn’t stop himself as he began to speak, looking right into your eyes as he did.

“I do not believe there are men who desire such company from me.” Another shrug, another deflection. Out of his own volition, one of his hands rose to pull away a singular coil of hair framing your face, curling it behind your ear.

“Any man who does not desire you is blind. I believe they do not deserve the eyes given to them if they act on such idiocy.” You chuckled a bit at that, half believing him and half thinking he was being ridiculous, but you weren’t one to object. The sound brought the smallest of smiles to his face, taking your reaction as a win.

He didn’t mean for his hand to flex open and have your cheek fall into his palm. He didn’t mean to have you press your skin into his when he softly caressed your cheekbone. He didn’t mean to stare at you long enough to grab your attention, his large hand cupping the side of your jaw to keep your face at an angle, heart thumping in his ribcage at the mere suggestion of following through on what he was thinking.

How did you two get this close? When did his eyes begin to wander all over your features, retaining every curve and angle into his memory? When did he start to crave more than just a conversation with you? When did the looks of curiosity you originally gave him shift to desire?

The both of you were acting out of turn, trailing your sight from the scar on the bridge of his nose and down to his plush lips before moving back up as if you were asking a silent question. You didn’t know what was going through his head, how long you two had been standing there a hair away from being chest to chest. You didn’t know when your face tilted upwards the slightest bit, or when Acacius leaned in an inch to reciprocate your action.

A gasp hitched in your throat when his lips finally met yours.

He kissed you with a softness you would’ve never expected from a man capable of so much violence, his lips skimming yours for a few seconds as they meshed into perfect puzzle pieces. Closing your eyes to savor it as much as you could, Marcus drew away from you, hand still holding your cheek as he left your mouth tingling for more.

A beat passed by, trying to catch your breath as your hands creeped up to his chest, petting along the linen of his tunic. Your breaths tangled into one, foreheads close enough to hover as Marcus loomed over you. The pulse you felt the moment your first kiss was gifted to you was nothing like what you expected. Sure, you’ve read about these things, heard the rumors when eavesdropping in some casual conversations when walking through groups of people, but you’d never think such intense feelings existed.

“Acacius…” your breathless voice broke the silence between you as the world stood still. It was the first time you had addressed him by name alone, no longer holding the usual formalities you preserved with him.

“I…that was improper of me. I apologize.” His words confused you, creasing your eyebrows as you remained in place.

“Why are you apologizing? Did you…did you not enjoy it?” Gods. It killed him to make you think he didn’t want to give you any attention when he’s been fighting off the urge to touch you for weeks now.

“I did enjoy it, more than I should have. But, you are still…it was wrong of me to do that when you are not mine to have.” You knew what he meant, you were still considered “pure”, “untouched”, meant to save yourself for the stranger you were intended to be courted with. At this moment, you could care less about a future partner you haven’t met, a man you knew didn’t deserve all of you.

But a man like Acacius, you think he was the exception.

“Do it again.” Your body spoke for you before you gained a lick of sense, clutching at his chest and tempting him closer. “Kiss me again, Acacius.”

How could he deny you when you begged for him so sweetly?

Grabbing hold of your face in his hands, he craned his neck to meet your lips, kissing you more intently now that you allowed him to. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, leaning into Acacius completely and holding on to his shoulders to ground yourself. The feel of one thick arm wrapping around your waist sent a shiver down your spine, the silk material of your nightgown adding to the new sensations that flooded your body for the first time. He angled his head to the side, kissing you deeper at a slow pace while one of your hands shifted to rake through the graying curls at the nape of his neck.

The low grumble of a groan slipping from Acacius’ chest shot warmth right to your gut, your knees almost buckling at the feel of his strong body pressed against yours. Pulling from him for air, your mouth was swollen from the kissing with every pass of his lips. You craved more, more of what he was making you feel, of what you didn’t fully understand.

You didn’t give Marcus a second to recuperate when you lunged to kiss him again with more fervor, a bit clumsily until he met you with equal enthusiasm. He refused to hold back now, holding you tighter by the waist and deliberately pressing you to his broad body. A heavy hand went up to cradle the back of your head, thick fingers seizing your scalp and running through the brushed out curls while the other held you by the tailbone. You couldn’t help but release a content sigh when his tongue traced your lower lip, relaxing your jaw to grant him entry, curling the wet muscle around your own.

The hand resting on the width of your spine sneaked lower to curve into your backside, pinching the fabric of your nightgown. Instinctively, you arched into the touch, antsy digits seeking somewhere proper to touch. His hair, his neck, his jaw, the shawl thrown over his shoulders—you didn't know what to do with your hands or where to put them.

You’ve never wanted someone so badly.

The passion intensified between you the more handsy you both got, your breathing labored and your small whines were swallowed by Acacius as he dominated your mouth. You’d lost track of time, the frequent shifting dragged you backwards until you bumped into your vanity. The sound of your beauty products rattling across the wooden surface forced you to draw your head back from Acacius’ generous mouth, breathing through your nose and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

When the General looked at your face again, he could feel the warmth radiating from your cheeks, your lungs expanding for air to calm your erratic heart. Your lips were plump with a slight redness, pupils blown from the experience with the slightest inkling that lust began to override your brain.

You were at a loss of words, not knowing what would be the best way to describe what you just felt. The general had stolen your breath, and possibly more, not like you were complaining. Acacius was quiet, stuck in thought as he breathed in and out, his exhales falling over your lips. You tried to lean in again for more of him when he kept your face in place, the tip of his nose nudging yours.

“To the bed, little dove.” He uttered, more of an order than anything else. The intensity of the heat pooling in your gut elevated, something deep within you beginning to ache from the way he added another twist to the term of endearment he’d given you.

Blinking once then twice, your brain regained functioning as you drifted from Acacius’ arms and walked to your bed, sitting down on the edge and waiting for his next command. However, now that the high you felt from kissing the man before you changed into anxiety, your naivety seeped out of you in waves.

“Acacius I…I have never…” you struggled to tell him that despite the promiscuous lies your father projected onto you. You didn’t need to say much for him to understand your inner dilemma.

“It is alright.” His voice calmed you as he kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his larger ones, giving a gentle squeeze. “How much do you know of coupling?”

“Besides the crude things men ruminate about with who they engage with, the basics. I know what goes in what.” It sounded idiotic coming from your mouth, not being able to state the obvious, to discuss sex in the literal terms as you understood them.

“You have never been touched before?” He asked you, not patronizing in his tone, but seeking to give a solution, receiving a shake of your head in response. “And when you are alone, you never think to do anything?”

“No. I never found a reason to…” You shook your head again and looked down to where he sandwiched your hands between his, a sense of shame tinting at your cheeks.

“Would you like for me to teach you what pleasure feels like?” His proposition caused your eyebrows to raise, a foreign throb between your thighs growing as your imagination played tricks on you. The General wanted to please you, to show you the things so many Roman citizens indulge themselves in doing.

“This is for you to learn, and for you to experience something new. And…if you allowed me to, I could grant you that experience.” He took one of your hands out of his grasp, kissing the inside of your palm and then your wrist, your pulse spiking under his touch. “The choice is yours.”

It wasn’t every day that you saw a respected General of Rome on his knees willing to grant you the first taste of something you were told was forbidden. With the way he looked at you, so candid and reverently, it wasn’t a hard decision for you to make.

“Yes. Show me, please.”

Placing one last kiss on the inside of your wrist, he stood up to his full height and pulled you up as you looked at him in a daze. He switched your positions to where he was the one sitting on the edge of the bed, thighs spreading to make space for you. When he peeked over at you again, he held out his hands to take yours, guiding you towards him.

“Come, sit on my lap, over my thigh.”

The order made you quiver, clumsily maneuvering to hover over one of his thick thighs. You held on to his shoulders to steady yourself while his hands came to yank the length of your nightgown, giving you more room to work with. He held your hips once you were in the right position, bringing you closer until your chests were together.

He suppressed the groan rumbling inside when he realized you were bare underneath your slip. Soft and warm skin met the thick muscle of his leg, your breath shuddered at the change in texture.

“You will grind over my thigh and move your hips to shift back and forth. I want you to do what feels right, what feels good. I am only here to guide you, but this is for you. Do you understand?”

You nodded at him, your anxious hands having a mind of their own and reaching for his neck, stroking along the sides of skin. Your thumb grazed the new scar on the column of his throat, leaning forward to kiss it apologetically. He threw his head back a bit at the feel of it, exhaling comfortingly while his hands flexed at your hips. Repeating the pattern to leave a path of kisses from the side of his neck to the corner of his jaw and then his chin, colliding your lips with his again and arching into his hold as his fingers ran lines down your spine.

Your hips were moving on their own accord, shifting backwards before dragging them forward, building a slow tempo and rhythm as you got used to the new sensations. Focusing on undulating your hips over Acacius’ thigh, he kept you present with every kiss he graciously landed over your lips and face. Something inside you clenched when you hit the right angle, breath hitching on the impact of something sensitive grinding over the firm muscle of the General’s leg underneath you.

“That’s it little dove, you are doing so good for me. Take your pleasure, chase it, let the feeling consume you.” Acacius whispered into your ear, the lower octave of his deep voice making a beeline straight to your core where your body craved more. A weighted palm steadied you on the small of your back, keeping you from falling over.

Encouraged by his praise, you arched your back more, gyrating against him with more force. A whimper poured out of you, heat cresting in your gut at the change of pace, your arousal staining Acacius’ thigh. He mimicked your earlier action, littering soft kisses across your jaw and neck, fighting the possessive urge to leave his mark across your skin. Keeping one hand on your waist, the other moved upwards to your ribs, gently fondling one of your breasts through the silk that veiled you from his hungry eyes.

“Acacius,” your eyebrows furrowed, something building deep inside you, body growing tense as pleasure curled around your belly. You were almost panting, eyes fluttering shut as something unknown threatened to come out, a moan stumbling from your kiss bruised lips.

“Trust your body and keep moving, allow it to wash over you. So close to release, sweet girl, let it happen. I have you.” His broad hand palmed your breast, thumb stroking your nipple that poked through your dress.

Stuck in a haze, pressure built between your legs, a whine punching through you as you swiveled harder over Acacius’ thigh. Clawing at his chest, it took you a few more drives before you moaned out loudly, jerking over his leg as your body trembled. Heat like no other coursed through your limbs, an electric current rushing from the top of your head to the balls of your feet, toes curling from the intensity of it. The General coaxed you through your first climax, ogling your expression with hazy eyes, taking in every light cry you gave him followed by the words of praise he whispered beside your temple.

Good girl. Ride the tide, ride it for me. That’s it.

You slumped against Acacius when your release was finished and you’ve gained some footing, buzzing at the calming touch of his hands caressing your back and shoulders.

“Did you enjoy that, little dove?” He held your face with one palm, an act of fondness you’ve grown to love and crave.

“That was…divine.” You were slightly jittery as you replied, raising your head to look at the General with dilated pupils, amazed that this was what had been deprived of you for so long. “Is it always like this?”

“It can be, depending on what is done, but your enjoyment is what matters most.”

Your cheeks blistered at the realization of wet skin below you, slight embarrassment at marking the General’s leg with your arousal. Out of your own cognizance, your focus moved to find something stiff under Acacius’ tunic, the tips of your ears burning and bashfully looking at him.

Oh.

You’ve heard of the rumors, of the way some men boast about their appendages as if it were the Gods’ greatest blessing, or how some of the street women speak about their personal experiences in the bedroom with more endowed partners. Being able to see or feel something like this up close was unfathomable. Fingers gripped your chin, keeping your face aligned with the aged man that just opened the doors to a new world for you.

“Pay no mind to that, it will go away. I do not wish to overwhelm you so quickly. We will save this for next time.”

Next time.

Goosebumps raked over your arms at the thought of doing this again, or doing more, and by the look the General passed your way, he was more than happy to continue whatever this became. Gently maneuvering you to rest on your bed fully, Acacius walked to the wash basin on the other side of your room and dipped some cloth into the warm water, cleaning his thigh of your remaining slick. You didn’t have the heart to state your disappointment, but he passed you the cloth to cleanse yourself before flinging it back to the bowl, leaving you to head back to bed.

“Will you stay?” You called out to him, eyes pleading for more of his attention, body yearning for more of his touch. “I do not wish for you to leave.”

He knew he should leave, he shouldn’t have snuck into your home at this late hour in the first place, but you had been plaguing him ever since he saw you by the atrium dressed in lilac and opals.

“I will stay for the time being, but only to hold you.” You didn’t protest against that, taking whatever you could get.

Throwing the sheets off to make room, you lugged him into bed with you, claiming the space next to him as a bulky arm hooked around your waist, bringing you closer. You hummed contently against his sternum, nuzzling your face into his body, chasing his warmth and scent.

“Thank you, Acacius.” He didn’t say anything in response, kissing the top of your head in silence.

“Rest now, dove.”

With that, your eyes shut close and you were eased into slumber, the best night of rest you’ve had in a long time. As you traveled through the land of dreams, you imagined several things, strong hands running over your bare body in ways they shouldn’t, tantalizing words whispered in your ear that makes you drip between your thighs, and someone else bringing you to heights so great you would be standing amongst the Gods themselves. In every frame you conjured up, the General’s face was who you saw, marking you with his mouth and claiming you as his. You wanted to stay here for as long as you could, living through your fantasy for all eternity.

By the time the sun rose high in the sky, you found your bed empty, disillusionment evident on your face as you touched the pillow beside you, cool to the touch.

Acacius was gone, and despite the way you could still feel the ghost of his touch, last night had been all but a dream.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics.

[bisexualbrainrots]

Okay so I didn't expect to be so inspired by this post (plus my tags), but hey, what a hiatus does to someone right? @unfuckablebogtroll thanks for the inspo!

So, here's a snippet of whatever this will be (haven't finished outlining the whole story yet) also I know nothing about how social workers work in the us, so i just did a lot of google searches to write this, let's suspend our disbelief lmao:

“I’m here to inform you that from now on your son, Scott Howards, is going to be legally put under your care and will be moved into your residency, we have made an extensive background check…”

Buck wasn’t really paying attention anymore, two words running through his mind.

Your son.

Your son. 

“What do you mean son?” he had just interrupted the social worker and yet, she didn’t seem so taken aback by his clear state of shock.

“We tried to contact you these past few days, didn’t you receive our calls and email?” 

That made him immediately go back and look for his phone, quickly checking everything as he went back to the front door.

Three missed calls and an email sent yesterday. They weren’t wrong, but why did it feel like they were?

“Okay… but I don’t know anything about a kid, wh-who is the mother and why am I supposed to keep him now?” 

Tara explained it all, as quickly as she could, while still keeping a soothing tone in her voice. She clearly had experience in working with situations like this one, or at least some similar, based on how calmly she explained that the mother, some woman named Jessica Howards, passed away a couple of weeks ago and that there was no immediate family that could take care of Scott. The grandparents had passed away two years ago and Jessica didn’t have any siblings that could take care of the kid, so the next (or first really) on the list had to be the biological father.

Evan Buckley was a mess. Nothing in his brain was really computing, not even when the social worker told him about the boy, a six and a half year old kid who despite being named Scott, everyone just called Scotty.

“I-I…” 

“I’m sorry but, how did you find Evan? And where exactly is the kid now?” Tommy had taken the lead, something he knew by now to do whenever Buck’s brain was being useless. He held his hand, rubbing his thumb against some of the knuckles in an effort of grounding Buck, which worked slowly.

“We found a letter in her belongings, it was apparently never sent but dated back to 2018, probably around the time Jessica found out she was pregnant. We also had to do some digging based on the information and found his social media which, well, led us to this moment” she sounded exhausted, it probably took them a lot of hours to even find who Evan was, it was something Tommy could respect, that level of dedication. “And Scotty… he’s actually here, I brought him in the car, you don’t have to worry about much since he had a nap today and we explained all of this to him as best as we could. He also has his own blanket and favorite toy with him, it’s been really helpful to calm him down”

Tara mentioned the documents she had in hand and that seemed to snap something in the couple’s heads. They’d been so shocked at the news they didn’t notice the bundle of papers she carried. Tara once again explained everything thoroughly, that those were all the legalities Buck had to sign in order to be granted guardianship of Scotty, and asked if they could get inside to sign papers and let the boy inside the house.

Tommy nodded and took the lead again, telling Buck to get inside with Tara while he would check on the kid. Tara agreed, stepping inside with Buck who guided her towards the dining table, while Tommy stepped into the social worker’s car.

[followerofmercyart]

[volivolition]

part of that "raising a kid au" i was working on, this is almost definitely not how skill checks work and i don't even know if i'll include this, but for now i think it's. so funny kjkgj

[vampirehizzies]

random thought but there was once this couple in my junior year biology class who were really sweet towards each other & always laughing with/teasing one another and i honestly couldn't tell if they were a couple or really good best friends (until they confirmed they were a couple later on lmao). and that's honestly the goal for all my fictional ships/hope for my irl serious relationships tbh

[sunbloomdew]

the void is speaking to me. i feel it in my bones...... i am once again falling down the dating sims and visual novels hole.

it's only a matter of time before i download mystic messenger again

[callonpeevesie]

Kid Howl and Megan because I love whatever they have going on and I've been thinking about them reading LOTR together

[seleneprince]

By the way, in my fem! Snape au (known as Sevrina Snape), she and Evan become lovers eventually and, during the Second Wizarding War, they end up having a daughter

This is her:

She looks just like her father, with all the Rosier features and all, but she has her mother's eyes and pale skin. Signature traits of the Prince family.

Regardless of whether Evan and Sevrina actually get married and love each other or they just have a friends with benefits kind of deal, they always conceive her. And Evan is killed by Alastor Moody along with Wilkes, leaving them both.

Ah, and just like Snape's daughter from my other au, she was born with a particular condition because of her mother...

[redgearsmovin]

peggy and nina are rotating in my brain now ohh wowie here we go again

[deus-ex-mona]

unnecessary comparison of the day!

volume 5’s release of one of asuna’s chapters changed the subject of her stan twt cancellation posts from mona to miyu (of frusu)!

[coachbeards]

also btw michelle lasso is a victim!!

[serendipitous-mage]

......... who's gonna tell him ... .. ill do it @markiplier

[cicicolorao]

I hope to one day come back to this idea, but I’d love to illustrate the disney princesses in my own style, with some redesigns to some of them, or just adding neat details I think are cool, like elvish attributes. For now, sketches!

[arklay]

DIANA x ALBERT WESKER / template.

[bluejaybytes]

@snowshinobi Hiiiii :3 I'm responding to your tags on a new post and not the original since the original was already somewhat lengthy, and I plan on being LONG and RAMBLY, but I have sooo many thoughts on what you said and I'm going to say them. Also my browser crashed TWICE (TWO TIMES. 2) when trying to write this post so I'm really fighting for my life out here to get my silly little OC posts done. Also it's under the cut because it's looooong as hell LMAO

Firstly, you're so nice to me forever <3 Secondly, I think you've basically hit the nail on the head. The majority of the issues Maggie has coming back from death and her 9 years gone are really tied almost exclusively to her close family, because she... never really had anyone else. While in-universe it's only 9 years, realistically the jump in technology and culture is around ~20-30 years (Maggie died in the 90s/early 2000s essentially, and wakes up in a just barely futuristic city), but... the most jarring thing to her in terms of what she missed out on is just. Flipphones are no longer popular. Other than her family, she's only close with one other person... who just so happens to be a ghost, and therefore both 1. Wouldn't change much over the timespan due to how long she's been a ghost and 2. Unlike her family, was aware that something happened, since she could see the ghost-of-a-ghost Maggie left behind (The ghosts name is Opal, she positions herself as a sort of "guardian angel" figure, though she's not actually, and serves as just another parental figure for Maggie while also getting after the ghosts that constantly harass her to pass on messages to the living). Maggie has no real relationships outside of her family, and while her relationships with her family are massively impacted by her unknowing death, other than that... the timeskip itself doesn't weigh on her because she had no one regardless. Her struggle to adjust to everything thats happened would've happened regardless of the timeskip for her, because she was such an isolated shut-in that it's the same whether it happened the next day, or nearly a full decade later

So another very interesting thing is that you've actually completely seen where I was going with everything, in spite of everything I said being very surface level and not actually delving into the plot at all. I completely skimmed over Jenna (She's very important to the plot, but she's by in large a regular person as opposed to Maggie's... everything), but for some additional context, Jenna has a horrendously shitty homelife, so her moving in with Maggie is both a gradual process (It goes from spending time there, to spending nights, to eventually just never going back home and moving in fully), and also serves as an escape for her. Part of that is also, so vitally, the food aspect. For some additional additional context, souls essentially serve as a persons lifeforce, practically every bodily function is improved by a soul that's stronger, though the "strength" of a soul is essentially entirely random, and not dependent on the individuals actions of any kind. Maggie had a generally weird soul before (Seeing ghosts inherently means she has to have something going on with her soul), but when she wakes up after her death, her soul is now even weirder, and part of that is that it essentially lets her get away with bad habits she absolutely should be seeing more consequences for. She barely eats, and when she does, it's basically exclusively crackers and whatever other safe foods she has around the house, because actually making food is a level of care and effort she just... doesn't give to herself in the slightest. Part of Jenna staying with her is that Jenna, without really discussing it, entirely takes up the mantle of caretaker of the apartment, with the biggest task being food prep, Jenna sees Maggie's unwillingness to take care of herself and silently steps up and starts making her actual meals so she's eating properly.

The problem is is that this also kinda... just straight up sucks? Jenna doesn't think much of it, it's something that needed to be done so she's doing it, she wants Maggie to be well fed even if she won't do it herself, and she's already been responsible for making all of her own meals for years prior anyways, so it's just another thing she does. Except that's shitty! Maggie's seen firsthand how terrible her homelife is, and it really weighs on her how even in her escape from that, Jenna's still being put in a position where she feels like she must care for her or else she just won't eat properly. So food is such a massively important thing to both of them, it's this symbol of love for both of them, it's love on the part of Jenna, for stepping in and taking care of Maggie when she can't do it herself, and it's love on the part of Maggie, for realizing how her own bad habits impact the people she cares about and wanting to lift that weight by taking care of herself better. It's also very vital for Maggie because she just... doesn't... have hobbies. Learning how to cook becomes really her only hobby and she puts all of her love and care into it, because for the first time in a long while she's actually passionate about something! ...Unfortunately she also is very very bad at it. She's inventing new dishes like "Burnt Salad" and "Please Help I Fucked Up Kraft Mac N Cheese" and still having to have Jenna come in and help her. But it's the thought that counts, and it'll only be a matter of time before she can make something vaguely edible.

And finally, the stuff about names! I didn't post it here, but while idly talking about her in a Discord server I'm in, I definitely think that had I made Maggie like even a few months later than I would've done she would've been nonbinary. As it stands right now though, I'm saying she's probably some form of genderweird but too busy trying not to die to think about it <3 Growing up knowing that ghosts are real and routinely being shut down by authority figures in her life about it has made her very aware of how bullshit a lot of things are and how the people who claim to be knowledgeable tend to not know what they're talking about (Beyond just the "people don't think ghosts are real", she's also got ghosts willing to tell her when people are lying because they've got nothing better to do than just gossip) , so if she spent even just a moment thinking about gender as a social construct she'd instantly recognize that and probably take up some form of genderweird label, but as it stands she's just too stressed with Being The Protagonist to think about that

Now, the thing with Margaret. I'm not even going to lie to you, I think you made a better connection to how a name connects with community in terms of the narrative themes than I did. The thing with Margaret denying the name "Maggie" existed for two reasons, the in-universe explanation is that, with the little scrap of soul Margaret has leftover from Maggie, it's essentially working overtime just to keep her vitals working, it can't dedicate time and energy to making her an individual with preferences and a personality, so part of that is that she doesn't respond to "Maggie" because ultimately, that is not her name. Her name is Margaret and she's not going to respond to "Maggie" because "Maggie" isn't her name. Of course, out of universe the reasoning is that I wanted an easy way to distinguish between Maggie as she is the protagonist, and the version of her that lived in the years she was gone, so different names makes the most sense.

I think your connection to how name relates to community genuinely works on a level I hadn't fully pieced together myself yet and I really love that because I think that absolutely works with everything. One of the main conflicts of the plot is how Maggie is entirely disconnected from her family thanks to the years she was gone, with Margaret having no priorities beyond "survive", she basically never spoke with her parents or brother for years. While her family tried to reach out to her repeatedly (Especially given that, while they're unaware the truth of what happened the night Maggie was murdered, they do know something happened, and they believe that whatever it was severely traumatized her, and that's where the sudden and drastic shift in personality came from), there's a point where they just... gave up. She wasn't trying to talk with them or contact them in the slightest, so around a year or two after Margaret moved out, her parents gave up on her. Her brother would still be there a bit, but he also didn't really... try... anymore.

When Maggie wakes up, she tries to call her parents... and they don't pick up. They'd grown resentful over the years, and now that Maggie wants to talk to them, they don't forgive her for the years of not speaking to them, and aren't interested in whatever she has to say after nearly a decade of trying to reconnect with her and being met with nothing. It's her insistence that she wants to be called Maggie that actually gets her brother to realize she's telling the truth and that something happened. She shows up at his door, already something that Margaret wouldn't have done, and that combined with her being visibly upset when he calls her Margaret and tells him that's not her and that she's Maggie, it signals to him that whatever's going on is real (...though he would've figured this out eventually, given that she also literally 17 again and not in her mid-20s, and has a giant glowing stab wound in her chest). I think it works absolutely perfectly as being a symbol of community, her disconnect from her community is what led to her being called Margaret, and her desperation to be returned to that community is when she's Maggie again. So uh. Congrats on getting the themes of my OCs better than I did <3

And uhhhh closing thoughts! I honestly did still skim over the majority of the plot (Literally never even mentioned Eli or what's going on with her stab wound </3), but I think you reeeeally hit the nail on the head with everything I'm kinda getting at with these OCs, which is... frankly wild given how little main plot I actually got at. Basically everything I mentioned in my original post was the setup, not the main plot. But waaaaugh thank you for being so niceys to me and also giving me another excuse to ramble endlessly <3

[atreldes]

“Forget a footnote or a chapter— I want the whole fucking history book!”

A moodboard for my @infamous-if mc Rorie Rose, she/her, lead singer of electronic/synth rock band rising//sinking.