#this womens day has me feeling mushy

[ouroboobos]

Never forget that your love for yourself helps other people too. Sometimes what people really need to see is other people feeling comfortable with themselves before they can turn that same sentiment inward

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Gift

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Period typical sexism and treatment of women, period-typical ideas of virginity and virtue, Marcus is a bit rude at first but he comes around quickly, attempted assault that is heavily implied to be sexual, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, wound care, yearning, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, mushy endings :)

Summary: The Emperor of Rome has given his most valued General, Marcus Acacius, a generous gift after his recent successful battle. Rather than the gold he’s hoping for, Marcus is stunned when a young virgin is delivered to his chambers. At first, he refuses to entertain the idea of stealing the virtue of a scared girl, but their lives become entwined when he learns that refusing his ‘gift’ puts her in even more danger…

A/N: The art in the header is by @norththelemon and is inspired by Paulo and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati. Thank you so much for letting me use this artwork for my fic!!! <3 The artwork does not necessarily reflect the appearance of the reader character; rather, it is a reflection of the original artwork. The only physical description I included of reader is that she has long, curly hair (color and texture are never mentioned). Marcus’s pet name for her, bellatora, very loosely translates to “little warrior.” Thank you to the lovely @leslie-lyman for the beta! **NOTE: as attempted SA can be triggering to some people, I have separated out this section with asterisks (******). You can quickly skip this scene and you will not miss any significant plot. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to send me a DM! Be safe <3

Masterlist

Marcus rides through the streets of Rome, the cheers of citizens ringing in his ears and the white petals being thrown from above him sticking in his curls. The populus is joyful, but he cannot help but think of the cost of the battle, about the sons and husbands who he knows are not returning home.

He longs for a bath, to wash the grime, dirt and blood from his body. He longs to strip off the heavy, soiled armor and lay down on his bed, naked and warm and full of bread and wine, and sleep for several days.

First, however, he must endure the long procession up to the palace, where the Emperor was surely waiting for him–where he would have to play all the little games that come with positions of power: smile, nod, say the right words and act in the ways that other people expect of a General.

The horse whinnies nervously as the cacophony swells, and Marcus gently pats its neck, sending a cascade of petals to the ground to be trodden underfoot by so many hooves.

The Emperor waits at the top of the Palace steps, surrounded by all of his court and Roman nobility. Without allowing any of the contempt he feels to show on his face, Marcus Acacius dismounts from the horse and slowly ascends the marble stairs. When he reaches the top, the Emperor pulls him into an exaggerated hug, slapping his back and cheering loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.

“Congratulations to you, my friend, for your triumph and victory over the vanquished,” the man booms, slapping Marcus's pauldron again for good measure and causing another great cheer to rise up from the crowd.

Marcus does not say anything, but he turns to face the onlookers and unsheathes his sword, raising it over his head victoriously, knowing that's what they all want him to do. The resulting din seems to rattle the very stones of the palace.

“You must be weary, good soldier,” the Emperor tells him. “Go now and rest. A gift will be sent to your chambers to show your Emperor’s appreciation for your prowess in battle.”

Marcus nods and bows deeply, indicating his gratitude for his Lord's generosity. He's most thankful, however, for the quick dismissal.

The General’s quarters in the palace are spacious and outfitted with all modern amenities Marcus could ever think to ask for. He quickly lights a fire under the basin to begin heating water for a bath. He begins removing his armor, leaving it by the door where he knows it will be collected for cleaning and polishing. He discards the filthy underclothing and retrieves a clean cloth with which to wash.

It is only now that Marcus is able to take sock tock of his injuries; as the grime is wiped clean from his body, he can finally see where the blood was his, and where the blood was not his. His arms are peppered with bruises and superficial wounds, but nothing that requires any dressing. 

He is lucky. 

Marcus dresses in loose robes, luxuriating in the feeling of being free and unencumbered by his armor. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he settles himself down on the bed, surrounded by the ornate pillows that come with Palace trappings, and closes his eyes.

They’ve barely been closed for a few minutes when a knock sounds at the door. 

Marcus frowns. All his joints and muscles protest when he reluctantly rises from the bed again and opens the door. He’s greeted by one of the Emperor’s personal guard, who is roughly holding the upper arm of a young girl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asks hesitantly, taking in the girl’s simple, white shift that clings to her breasts and hips, her trembling lips, and her wide, terrified eyes.

“The Emperor, in his generosity, presents you with this virgin as reward for your duty to Rome,” the guard announces. He pushes the girl forward into Marcus’s chambers and shuts the door behind him.  

“What in the Gods’...” the General murmurs under his breath as you are shoved unceremoniously into the room.

You curtsy deeply, remembering, despite your fear, what you have been instructed to do. “M-My Lord,” you whisper through trembling lips. You can only stare at the floor, unable to look at the man to whom you have been gifted.

“I had been hoping for gold,” the man grumbles. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He sounds angry. This terrifies you more.

“I am f-for your… p-pleasure,” you try to explain. “My Lord.” You deepen the curtsy, until your knees nearly scrape the floor. If you please him, perhaps he will not be unkind.

“Stop that. Get up.” the man snaps. “I’m not in the mood for deflowering virgins.”

“S-Sir?” You don’t understand. You weren’t prepared for the man to say no. You were bathed, dressed, and told that you were to be a gift for a mighty general. You were to please him, let him bed you, and serve him until he tired of you. You were instructed to kneel, to address him as only “My Lord,” and to do whatever he asked of you. Only then would the debt your father owed to the Emperor be paid in full. 

You were not given instructions on what to do if the General refused his gift.

“D-Do I not please My Lord?” you try again. Terrified of being turned away, sent back to your father, where they’d surely kill you both, you begin to cry.

“By the Gods–stop, come here,” the General says, sounding exasperated. He gently leads you to a chair and indicates you should sit. You do. He crouches on his heels so that your heads are level, and examines you. “Who are you, girl?”

“I… am the only daughter of Proculus Opilio,” you sniffle. “I am a gift for his Lord’s pleasure.”

The man’s fingers take hold of your chin; his hands are gentle as he guides your eyes up to his. “Why are you a gift,” he presses.

“M-My family owes a great debt,” you whisper. “I am to be payment for our transgressions against the Emperor.”

“The Emperor sends me a frightened child,” the man growls as he quickly stands and paces away from you, “and calls it a gift.”

“You must accept,” you say frantically, hopping up from your seat and following him. “They will know if you do not, and we will be punished for it.”

The general scoffs. “What, they intend on checking?” he asks, as if such a thing is too ridiculous to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” you whisper. They told you as such.

“Girl,” he says sternly. “I am not going to enact such violence on a scared child.”

“I am not a child,” you argue, sticking your chin up. “I have seen nineteen summers, almost twenty.”

The General seems to find this funny. He huffs, shaking his head and turning away. “Go home, girl.”

“I cannot go home,” you say, and start to cry again. 

“Stop. Stop,” the man entreats. He turns toward you again and cages your face in his hands, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Okay. Do not worry, I will… Gods, I will help. You and your family will come to no harm.”

“Thank you,” you say emphatically, your hands coming up to your shoulders in preparation to unclasp your shift.

“No! Stop!” You freeze again, eyes wide.

The General softens, and gentles his words. “Please stop. I am weary from battle and I need to sleep. Please… let us both rest, and after that we may discuss this with level heads.”

“Of course, My Lord,” you nod, curtsying again. 

“Marcus.”

“...My Lord?”

“Call me Marcus. I am no Lord.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” It comes out automatically.

The General–Marcus–raises one eyebrow.

“...Marcus.” You watch as the man pads over to the bed and collapses onto it with a heavy sigh. 

“You may sleep here, you may sleep elsewhere, it does not concern me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed. “I am not long for this world and will be unconscious for quite some time, I imagine.”

His words are correct; within a matter of minutes the man is snoring. 

Alone and scared, you sink back down into the chair, and begin to cry again.

Marcus wakes with something tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by a mass of curls on his pillow, framing the angelic face of… 

Oh.

He had forgotten about you. At some point, you had clearly decided to sleep as well, because you are curled up next to him, your hands clasped under your chin and your lips slightly parted in sleep. This is the first time he’s seen your face not terrified, and he realizes that you are really quite beautiful.

He does not know what to do with you. 

Marcus has never had a shortage of willing partners, and he is uninterested in the alternative. You are pretty, young, and soft, but he is not the sort of man to force himself on a woman. Even if you did ask him in no uncertain terms to do so, it would not be for the right reasons. 

He needs to find a way out of this situation, ideally with his life, your life, and the lives of your family still intact; he did not wade through the blood and mire of battlefield just to condemn an innocent woman to death.

“Girl,” he says lowly, and your eyes open quickly. They go wide at his proximity, and you scramble back a few inches, creating more space between you.

“H-Hello,” you greet him shakily. 

“Good morn,” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested, My Lo–Marcus.” You offer him a small, timid smile. 

Marcus glances toward the window. “It must be almost midday,” he says, noticing the angle of the sun. He’d fallen asleep yesterday in the late afternoon, slept all night, and through the morning. He hopes you did the same. 

“I am famished.” He gets up from the bed–Gods, his muscles still ache–and pads toward the door to his chambers. “With any luck, this morning’s breakfast will still be outside.” 

It feels like the only act of providence that has happened since his return to the Palace that the breakfast tray is still there, laden with fresh bread and fruit. He carries it inside and sets it on the small table in his chambers. He grabs a piece of bread with one hand and beckons you over with the other, too hungry to be polite and wait for you before tearing a piece off with his teeth. He finishes the bread in a few bites, but you still stand near the bed, unmoving and watching him with wary eyes.

“Come. Eat.” Marcus grabs another piece of bread and a handful of grapes. 

Hesitantly, you approach the table, looking like a wild animal unsure of whether the human offering you food can be trusted.

“I do not bite, girl,” he grumbles. 

You snatch a loaf off of the table and retreat backwards a couple of paces, breaking off small pieces and popping them into your mouth as you continue to stare at him. 

“What will you do with me?” you ask.

“Do with you?” Marcus laughs humorlessly. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, beginning to sound angry. Good. Marcus would rather you be anything but the timid, scared girl that was shoved into his chambers. “So you would condemn my family to death?”

“I am not going to take an unwilling woman to bed,” he growls, taking more grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth. 

“Most people would do far worse to save the life of a loved one,” you argue. 

Marcus scoffs. “I’ve seen and done things you could not imagine, girl. If losing your maidenhood is the worst thing you can conceive of–”

“It is not,” you snap, stamping your foot in a show of exasperated petulance. “If you are not going to help me, then… I—I hope the gods curse you!” you finish lamely. You spin on your heels and retreat to the corner of his room, sitting down on a chair and crossing your arms with a huff. 

Marcus closes his eyes. He is being too harsh with her, too cruel. He has spent too long shouting orders at his men of late, and not enough time offering comfort or kind words. He grimaces and approaches you with caution. You glare at him, and he doesn’t blame you, but he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you before speaking.

“I have been unkind,” he says softly. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

He watches as your pretty eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again as a number of emotions seem to flicker across your face. Your lips part, but you don’t respond, and Marcus forges on.

“I did not ask to be put in this situation, and neither did you. I made a promise to you last night that you and your family will come to no harm, but we must work together to keep you safe.”

“Would it not be easier to simply take your ‘gift’?” you sniffle, jutting your chin out and trying–unsuccessfully, he thinks to himself–to be brave.

Marcus chuckles softly, reaching forward and gently grasping both of your hands. “I have committed enough violence in the name of Emperor and Country to last a man several lifetimes. I may not have been as kind as I should have been to you, but I will not take the innocence of a scared girl who is being used as a pawn in the evil games of powerful men.”

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on the back of one hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just be free of this cursed ‘gift’ of innocence and lose all value to men like that.”

Marcus huffs in amusement. “Do you, now?”

You sigh, turning and looking out of the window. “How nice it would be to be valued for other qualities, instead,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to him. When you turn back to look at him, you ask, “How will you–we–subvert the wishes of the Emperor himself?”

Ah. He was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. Truthfully, he has no idea; all he can really hope to do is attempt to sway the Emperor in some way, or at the very least, buy him some time. 

“I will request an audience,” Marcus tells you. “I must go soon to debrief with the other generals, and he will be in attendance. I will speak to him, garner favor…” he trails off, knowing how vague and uncertain he sounds. 

“You would really take such a risk for me…?” you ask hesitantly. 

“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon me a gift,” Marcus says sardonically. “And as I see it, that gift is now mine, and is under my protection.” He gently cups your cheek, letting his palm rest against the slightly damp skin. “We will use his… generosity… to our advantage.”

He stands, letting his fingers trail across your jaw before pulling his hand back. “I must go. Do not open the door to anyone while I am gone.”

In the General’s absence, you finish off the rest of the breakfast tray, which was plentiful. With a full belly, you wander around the man’s chambers, exploring the space that will also be yours for the foreseeable future. You wash in the basin, splashing cool water on your face and sighing in relief. For the first time in over a day, you are finally able to breathe and take stock of your situation.

You should be grateful, really. The General Marcus, although gruff and tactless at times, seems to be a caring, even kind man. You believe him when he says he will protect you, protect your family, even though you have nothing to give him in return. Nothing he wishes to take, at any rate. 

Your eyes fall on an ornate dagger sitting on a table near the window, and you cannot help but think of the way his hands–the same hands that would fiercely wield a weapon to slice through skin and bone–so gently touched your face. 

A loud knock on the door to Marcus’s chambers startles him out of your reverie. A soft noise of surprise escapes you before you are able to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle it. You can tell that whoever is on the other side of the door has heard you, because they pause, listening, and then knock again.

The handle rattles as someone on the other side turns it back and forth, testing the strength of the lock, and your heart pounds with trepidation. 

They cannot get in. They cannot get in. They cannot get in. You repeat the phrase over and over in your head, but then you hear the distinct click as the lock is bypassed or picked, and the door swings wide.

“Well, well, well,” a man in ornate robes sneers. “It appears the rumors are true.”

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

Another man in similar garb pushes past him. “Our beloved general has a new toy.” The words are dripping in sarcasm.

You back up against the wall, and the table next to you rattles when you bump it with your hip. Quickly, you pick up the dagger and point it at the intruders.

Both men guffaw loudly, slapping their knees and shoving each others’ shoulders in their apparent mirth. “She has teeth, she does!” one of them jeers.

“Tell us, did you bite the General when he stuck you?”

The men lunge forward, and you slash with the blade. One of them howls, clutching at his arm, where red is already beginning to well up between his fingers, but you are unused to wielding weapons and the second man rips it from your grasp easily.

“You little bitch,” the injured one spits, and slaps you, hard, with his good hand, the blood from his injury splashing your face and your white robes. You crumple in an instant, clutching your cheek, as the two men close in.

“I bet she squeals nice and loud,” one of them growls menacingly as he reaches for you.

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

A loud bang from behind the men makes them startle. You look for the source, and see the General standing in the doorway with fury in his eyes. He wrenches another dagger from its scabbard and, with no warning, lunges forward and plunges it into the neck of the man who had reached for you. With a sickening gurgle, the man collapses instantly, and red blood begins to pool underneath him. Marcus rips the dagger from the man’s neck and points it at the second man as he shoves him against the wall, who immediately begins to whimper and shake his head. 

“Sniveling cur,” the General spits. “I would happily kill you both, but you are going to deliver a message for me instead.” At the man’s frantic nod, he continues. “It seems that some need reminding that I am not to be trifled with,” Marcus snarls. “And the next person who disrespects me by harming my property will be dealt with in the same manner as your friend. Now. Go.” 

The man bolts, clutching the wound you had given him.

Marcus’s demeanor immediately changes. He drops the dagger on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands again… hands that are trembling. 

“They hurt you,” he murmurs, his eyes rapidly flicking back and forth over your face, seeing the blood that had spattered on your robes.

“It isn’t mine,” you manage to say, although your voice shakes and your chest heaves with leftover terror. You can’t keep your gaze from landing on the dead man in front of you, his eyes still open and staring sightlessly ahead. “I–your knife I–”

“Okay,” he nods, his thumbs still caressing your cheekbones. “Okay. Shhh. Don’t look at him, look at me.” When you manage to pull your gaze to the General instead, you’re suddenly captivated by his wild, dark eyes. They’re so full of fire, yes, but with that fire brings warmth. He stares at you as if you are a precious object, not some scared little girl covered in blood and cowering against the wall. “Come here,” Marcus says softly. “Let me help you up.”

You surprise even yourself when you automatically lean forward and into the General’s arms. He stiffens, seemingly just as stunned by your trust in him, but he recovers and carefully stands, pulling you up with him and gently turning your body away from the dead man. He leads you forward, and you follow blindly as he guides you down onto a chair. 

“Let me fetch a cloth,” Marcus says, his expression stormy and troubled, “to clean you up. Do not move.”

You nod, watching as he fills a little bowl with water from the basin and comes back to crouch at your feet. “Your cheek,” he murmurs. “Is it very painful?”

You nod again, a few hot tears escaping from your eyes and stinging the small cut in question. 

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Marcus promises. “But it must be cleaned.”

You shut your eyes as his fingers carefully grasp your chin, using his hold to tilt your head and grant him easier access. The cloth is cold against the burning skin of your cheek, and you cannot stop the soft whimper that leaves your lips. Gently, the General dabs the little wound, dipping the cloth in water over and over and soothing the tender skin as he wipes it clean of dirt and blood.

Once satisfied with your cheek, he cleans the man’s blood off of the rest of your face and neck, as well as the few droplets that had landed on your hands from the other man as he was stabbed. 

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely as he gently turns one hand over and dabs away the last remaining spot of blood on the inside of your wrist. 

“You should not be thanking me,” Marcus says, voice tinged with bitterness. “It is because of me that you came to harm.”

“Yet it is also because of you that I was not harmed further,” you tell him quietly. Your eyes dart toward the body in a pool of blood still lying on the floor, and quickly look away again. “You killed a man for me.”

“You are under my protection,” Marcus says solemnly. “I do not take that vow lightly.”

As your heartbeat finally begins to slow, the deep terror that had been swirling inside you leaves, replaced with bone-weary fatigue. Your vision swims and your head sways slightly as you suddenly feel that you must fight the urge to fall asleep right here in this chair.

“Something ails me,” you say, alarmed at your darkening vision.

“Battle fatigue,” the General says matter-of-factly. “When the fog of war lifts, sleep often takes its place.”

“I am no soldier,” you protest tiredly. The world shifts–Marcus has scooped you into his arms and is carrying you to his bed, carefully laying you down on the blankets. 

“You are now,” he teases gently. “Victorious little soldier, bellatora, wielding a General’s weapon with ferocity. You even have a battle scar.” His finger gingerly brushes your cheek.

“Will others come?” you ask, struck with a sudden pang of fear even as your eyes threaten to close. 

“No.”

“What if they do?” It’s a silly question, and you aren’t sure why you even gave voice to such a childish fear. Warmth envelops you as Marcus covers your form with a blanket. Your eyes finally close, and the General’s last words seem to come to you through a dream.

“Then I will fight the entire Roman army to keep you safe.”

Marcus Acacius did not want this “gift.” 

He did not want a virgin to deflower, nor a scared girl to comfort, or even a servant that inexplicably tidied his rooms while he was away.

He did not want you. 

But here you are, sitting by his window with a book, eating all of your dinner and a good portion of his, and leaving long, curly hairs on his pillows, by the basin, and even on his armor–something he had discovered during a drill one morning, pulling the offending strand off of his pauldron with a bemused shake of his head. 

He does not want you. He doesn’t want the comb and mirror that now lie on the table by the basin, nor the extra rags he had to ask a servant for–ears burning bright red–when your… er… monthlies arrived. He does not want to spend his wages on new robes for you, but he hardly has a choice, not when your thin white shift became filthy with blood the night that he–

Gods.

The night that he almost lost you.

If his meeting had gone just five minutes longer, he would have been too late. He would have arrived to a much different scene, and he knows he would have killed every inhabitant of the palace in retribution.

This is how he knows that he cannot trust his own feelings when it comes to you. What should be an unwanted inconvenience in his life has quickly become much, much more. He acts like a man in love, the way he buys you trinkets and brings you sweets, but no matter how he twists the story in his own head, he cannot deny the truth: you are a captive. His captive.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wealthy merchant crosses his path in the bustling market, followed by another man carrying all of the man’s wares for him, purposely walking several paces behind as is the custom for slaves.

Marcus can dress you in all the finery his salary can afford, but that does not change the fact that you were intended to be a slave for his pleasure. 

He already has his intended prize from the market–a parcel containing two pieces of sweetbread tucked under one arm–but perhaps it is guilt over your imprisonment that causes his head to wander to the stall of jewelry to his left. 

“Trinkets for a special someone,” says a middle-aged woman wearing kohl eyeliner and almost as many beads around her own neck as are displayed in her stall. She shoots Marcus a knowing smirk as his fingers reach out to graze a length of beads of palest pink. 

“Rose quartz,” the woman tells him. “For love, compassion, and emotional healing.”

Rose quartz. He cannot help but picture the pretty, pale beads glowing, luminous against the soft skin of your neck.

“How much?” His voice is rough and thick. 

The woman’s smile widens.

They cost almost an entire weeks’ salary, and he’s never spent such a sum on anything for himself, let alone something so frivolous, but he’s already reaching for his purse.

You grin widely at Marcus’s return–a sight that makes his heart swell when he remembers how frightened you were of him on that first night. You make little grabbing motions with your hands, causing him to laugh as he hands over the parcel of sweetbread. You take your piece and hand him the other, hardly waiting until he’s taken it before you’re biting into the sweet dough with a sound of pleasure that goes straight to his nether regions. 

He thinks of the necklace, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his robes, but he is struck with a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, and he leaves it where it is. 

“Tell me about the market,” you say wistfully. 

“Too crowded,” Marcus grunts before taking a bite of his own sweetbread. 

You seem to find his cantankerous nature funny, for Gods know what reason, and the pretty sound of your laughter fills the room–and his mind.

“There are a number of visitors for some play at the amphitheater tonight,” he explains further, shrugging slightly.

You suddenly exclaim in delight, startling him a little. “I love the amphitheater,” you say emphatically. “My father often had to punish me for sneaking in to see plays against his wishes when I was a little girl.”

Marcus chuckles, picturing a smaller version of you, but no less fiery.

“It was worth it,” you laugh. You pop the last piece of sweetbread into your mouth and suck each finger clean of the sticky dough in turn. Marcus should look away, but he’s entranced by the way your lips close around each digit, leaving clean, shiny skin in your wake.

He blames this momentary onset of utter madness for the words that leave his mouth next.

“Would you like to go see it? The play?”

 The pure delight that washes over your face is enough to make Marcus want to take you to a different play every night, but after too short a time, you are frowning warily.

“Would that be wise?” you ask. “Is it not dangerous for me to leave your quarters?”

“You would be seen as my consort,” Marcus answers. “No harm will come to you, bellatora.”

“Your… your consort?” 

“You cannot be a prisoner in these walls for the rest of your days,” he tells you softly. “If we play the parts we have been given–the General and his consort–no one will question it. They wouldn’t dare, not after my warning. The entire palace knows that I will gladly kill anyone who threatens you.”

You duck your head, looking down at your hands. Marcus wonders if you’re frightened of him, still. 

“Everyone will see my act as one of possession,” he says. “Of territoriality. If we allow them to draw that conclusion, they will never suspect any different.”

You nod, biting your lower lip and giving him a timid smile that slowly spreads across your face and turns into something bright and joyful. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“The play will end before we even arrive, bellatora,” Marcus grouses from the main chamber. 

“Patience,” you snap from the washroom. The stupid elaborate hairstyle that you keep trying to braid your hair into keeps falling out, and you’re beginning to feel frustrated. With a heavy sigh, you settle for a simpler plait that falls over one shoulder. You’re wearing one of the nicer gowns that Marcus has gifted you–robes of deep emerald green, but you still worry that you look far too common to be an appropriate consort to a General.

Since when has such a thing become a concern for you? Despite the roles you are forced to play, Marcus is not your consort, nor your lover. He has made it clear he will never touch you, so why are you hiding in the washroom, worrying over your appearance?

With a pained sigh, you shake yourself, square your shoulders, and turn to face the General.

“Ready,” you announce, and the man in question looks up.

His lips part slightly, a little crease forming on his brow as his eyebrows raise. He fixes you with that look–the one he keeps giving you lately. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of surprise every time he sees you, as if you aren’t a permanent fixture in his rooms and could disappear at any moment. 

“What?” you finally ask. 

Marcus seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “It is missing something.”

The statement confuses you. “I–I have nothing else to–” You cut yourself off as the man seems to be digging through his clothing, looking for what, you do not know.

“I thought this would suit you,” he says quietly, as he retrieves a small parcel and holds it out for you to take.

You hesitate, frowning. “What is it?”

Marcus huffs softly with impatience and opens the parcel himself, revealing the prettiest strand of stones you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh,” you gasp. 

“Do you…” the man in front of you clears his throat and shifts in his stance, “Do you like it?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I like it.”

Wordlessly, he removes it from the cloth and moves behind you to clasp it at the back of your neck. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face at the feel of the cool beads resting against your throat. Gently, you touch the necklace with your fingers and turn to look at Marcus. “Does it look pretty?” you ask, still grinning at him.

The General’s face is almost pained when he returns your gaze. His eyes don’t leave yours when he softly answers, “Yes.”

Marcus Acacius has never been much for plays, but never before has he experienced seeing one with you. He can’t help cracking a small smile himself every time you let out a joyful peal of laughter, which you do often, as the story is a humorous one. 

The necklace suits you just as he thought it would, but your beauty almost makes the stones appear dull in comparison. If anyone were to ask him, Marcus would say that your smile could outshine all of Rome. Pretending that you are his consort is far too easy; your delicate fingers find the crook of his elbow without prompting when he offers his arm to you as you walk through the streets when the show ends. Your eyes always seem to find his, your face bright and hopeful and oh so lovely as you look up at him. 

“Marcus?” 

He’s been lost in his thoughts again. He grunts and nods to you as the two of you walk back to the palace, when you suddenly stop. 

“I want to tell you…” you begin, wringing your hands together nervously. 

“What is it, bellatora?” Marcus asks with concern.

“I want to tell you that I am… very happy,” you say, ducking your head and avoiding his gaze. 

“I am glad that you enjoyed the play,” Marcus says hesitantly, wondering what is making you suddenly be so… shy.

“With you,” you add quietly. “It’s not only the play, it’s… it’s just you, Marcus.” The final word is almost a plea, with how earnestly it leaves your lips. “I–I want you to know that I would. I would be your consort, i-if you wanted, and I’d–”

Marcus closes the small distance between you and presses his lips against yours. You yield to him immediately, your small hands moving up the planes of his chest and coming to rest at his jaw. You kiss with the slight timidness of someone unfamiliar with how to do it, but oh, he’s happy to guide you. One of his hands gently cups your neck, the other caresses your cheek and it’s all he can do to keep the kiss chaste and not frighten you by backing you up against the wall of the alleyway and opening his mouth to you. 

When he releases your lips, you chase him–leaning forward with your mouth still pouted and your eyes closed, as though you cannot bear to be parted from him, and it takes a herculean effort not to indulge.

“Come,” Marcus murmurs softly, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone, watching as you flutter your eyes open and look at him with an expression of such open trust and want that he feels as though he’ll burn from the inside out. “Come, let us go home.”

You are ablaze.

Marcus’s hands seem to burn with heat as he guides you hastily through the palace and to his familiar quarters, but their temperature still seems to pale in comparison to the heat that rises within you. 

Once inside, he kisses you again, and you swear your knees could simply buckle and give out just at the feel of his lips on yours. You crave it again and again; your hands grip at his robes to hold him close to you, hoping he’ll never stop. 

“Sweet girl, little bellatora,” Marcus murmurs, his lips dragging from your mouth across your cheek to the side of your neck and oh, you like that even more–your head falls to the side and your back arches as you all but beg for his lips on your skin again. His hand on your lower back guides you even closer until your bodies are pressing together and you gasp softly at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your earlobe and causing a cascade of shivers to course through you. “Tell me that you want this. If you do not, deny me now, and I promise I will never touch you again.”

“No,” you whimper automatically. “No, please don’t stop, just–”

“Shhh, bellatora.” Marcus seems to crumple with relief, leaning forward until your back hits the wall and his lips ravish your neck once again. “I won’t stop, just tell me you want me like this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as the General’s hands cage your face and his mouth meets yours once again. “Yes, yes, yes–” You repeat the word over and over into his mouth, until he groans softly and parts his lips too, deepening the kiss and tasting you with his tongue.

His hands caress your neck, fingertips running up and down before settling on the clasps on your shoulders. “Let me see you,” he whispers. “Please, let me–”

You pull back, looking in his eyes as you nod slowly, giving him permission. He carefully undoes your dress, letting the fabric fall and pool at your feet. The necklace is still around your neck, and he touches the beads lightly as he stares at the sight before him.

“Oh, Gods…” Marcus murmurs to himself, shaking his head in awe. “What a divine gift you are, bellatora.”

His eyes rake over your breasts, your hips, the swell of your stomach, and the fire burning within threatens to consume you. With one more soft kiss, he whispers, “Come to the bed, so I may worship you properly.”

You let him lead you, keeping your eyes on him as he takes your hands in his and pulls you toward the bed. You are too consumed with flames to feel fear of this moment, but a pang of nervousness thrums within you despite yourself. 

Marcus guides you down until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. You begin to scoot backwards–you might not have much experience, but you know you’re supposed to be lying on the bed–when he stops you, and instead sinks to his knees in front of you. 

“I–” you begin, unsure of what to do.

“I want you to watch,” the General whispers, looking up at you in the same way an acolyte may look up at a temple. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of spooking you, he guides your legs open until you’re splayed out in front of him. You would be embarrassed, but for the hungry look in his eyes, how his chest seems to heave in anticipation, and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips as if he’s about to enjoy a feast.

When he leans forward, his mouth moving toward you, you gasp and stiffen, and he pauses.

“Trust me,” he soothes. “It will feel good, I promise.”

You swallow thickly and relax again, watching as Marcus comes even closer, until he’s able to press a kiss right on–

“Oh,” you whimper softly. 

Emboldened, he angles his mouth against you and licks. The sensation of his tongue through your folds causes you to collapse backwards on your elbows, your head falling back and your eyes closing as you gasp toward the ceiling. 

“Watch,” Marcus reminds you. 

With you half-sprawled on the bed, your legs fall open even further and his hands wind underneath your hips as he pulls you even closer onto his mouth. His tongue, his lips… oh, it’s so decadent; you’ve never felt pleasure like this by your own hand. He thrusts his tongue into you, and you can only whine and babble wordlessly, your eyes wide as you dutifully watch him please you. He alternates between these deep, overwhelming strokes of his tongue and little licks right on the little bundle of nerves above, back and forth, back and forth until your entire body shakes. 

“Exquisite,” Marcus rasps, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. His lips close around you and he sucks gently, and the fire within you burns until it reaches a crescendo, until finally, you fall.

“Bellatora.” The endearment is laden with affection, and when you slowly blink your eyes open, the General is smiling down at you. “Are you with me, mi bellatora?”

You giggle. “I think so.”

He must have disrobed while your eyes were closed; you stare at his slightly golden chest, at the light dusting of hair and freckles, and further down, where–

Oh, Gods. 

Marcus hangs thick, heavy, and proud, and you swallow in trepidation at the thought of all of that inside you.

“Don't look at that; look at me.” The words are soothing, but tinged with humor, and you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes when you do as he asks and look at him.

“Let us just lie down together,” he says, smiling. “Nothing more.”

You scoot up until your head rests against the pillows, and Marcus crawls over you with a smirk, pressing little kisses up your body as he goes, until he lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

With your back against his chest, you can't exactly forget about the hard length of him, as it's currently pressing insistently against you. You wiggle, arching your back and trying to soothe the empty ache that still seems to reside within you. 

“Feeling greedy, mi bellatora?” 

You whine softly and push back against him harder. His arms are wrapped around you, but somehow, it’s still not enough. You want him everywhere, you need everything. 

“What have you done to me?” you laugh softly. 

“Nothing you have not also done to me,” Marcus murmurs, nipping your shoulder playfully. 

“I have done nothing,” you say airily, leaning further back into his embrace.

“Oh, you have,” he growls. “You have invaded my quarters–”

“That is hardly my doing–”

“–and shortly after, invaded my heart,” Marcus continues, ignoring your interruption. “You have made me crave as I never have before.”

“You have made me feel the same,” you whisper. “I have never… felt anything like this before.”

“Mi bellatora,” he breathes against your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Do not be cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“You are denying me.”

At your playful accusation, Marcus suddenly shifts, rising up from beside you and pinning you to the bed with his body. “And it is taking the effort of every bone in my body, more challenging than all twelve labors of Hercules.”

“Then stop,” you tell him softly, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Stop denying us what we both want.”

Rather than answer, the General lowers his mouth to yours. 

Kissing might be your new favorite thing–you thought the feel of Marcus’s lips was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt when he kissed you in the alleyway, but here, in his bed, with the weight of his body pressing deliciously down on you, his kisses feel even more profound. His hips roll gently against you, and you instinctively wrap one leg around his thigh to try and relieve your desire for more friction. 

The action causes Marcus to groan and bury his face in your neck, his light beard scraping against your skin. Your hips cant upward unconsciously, and the skin of his cock catches and rubs against your folds. 

With a little moan, you press against him harder, wanting more, more–

“Bellatora,” Marcus groans. He props himself on one elbow over you, spits on the other hand and rubs the wetness onto the head of his cock. He repeats the motion again, and then gently rubs the remainder onto you, making you arch back with a surprised gasp. 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He lines up the thick head of him with your entrance and pushes the tip in ever so slightly. Your eyes widen as you feel him, your mouth falling open as you stare up at him in awe.

“That’s it, just look at me,” Marcus murmurs. “Just keep looking at me.”

His face is so close to yours that your breaths mingle as he slowly slides in. You expect it to hurt, but you’re so soaked from his earlier attentions that it’s almost easy for him, at first. When he’s only about halfway in, though, you start to feel unbearably full–too full–and it makes you whimper softly and squirm against him.

“Breathe for me,” Marcus reminds you. “Breathe, mi bellatora.”

In between more kisses and soft praises, he pushes forward, bit by bit, until you can feel his body fully pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling shakily. “I can feel you.”

Marcus chuckles. “And I, you.”

He stays just there, unmoving, stroking your face, until you begin to squirm with impatience again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, bellatora,” he says softly. “Please, love, tell me if I do.”

You nod, wide-eyed and enraptured by the feeling of being utterly filled. With one last gently kiss to your cheekbone, Marcus carefully begins to move. His cock drags slowly back and forth against your walls, and each time he buries himself to the hilt once again, it sends sparks of pleasure all over your body.

Your exhales turn high and breathy, little whimpers and gasps escaping every time Marcus reaches the end of you. You cling to his shoulders, the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his curls, eliciting a deep groan and a change in the rhythm of his thrusts as he gains confidence that you aren’t in any pain. 

The faster Marcus’s hips move, the more it seems to send you into a frenzy. Your legs wrap around his hips and your grip on his upper body tightens as the fire within you starts to build again. 

Your lips seek any available skin they can find, pressing open-mouthed against his jaw, his neck, his upper arm, anywhere you can reach. One of Marcus’s hands gently cups the back of your neck for leverage as he grinds against you; the other wanders up and down your body–gripping your hip, squeezing your breast and pressing his thumb against your nipple, stroking your cheek as he kisses you again and again. 

His kisses become more and more messy and frenetic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. He pants softly, his voice catching on every exhale, quiet little noises deep in his throat that only you can hear. 

Your bodies move seamlessly together, aided by the light sheen of sweat that beads on your skin. Marcus hand slips in between you, his fingers finding the little bundle of nerves and gently rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Oh, I–I–” you whimper brokenly, drunk on the sensations of pleasure that he’s pulling from your body. “M-Ma–” 

“Say it,” he rasps in your ear. “Please, bellatora.”

“Marcus,” you manage to gasp. 

“Again.”

“M-Marcus, Marcus, oh Gods, I–” 

Your body arches off the bed as the strongest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt courses through you. You convulse against him, hands scrabbling for a hold on his broad shoulders, gripping him for dear life as though he is the only thing keeping you from being pulled under by the waves. 

Your cries reach a crescendo and Marcus gives you everything–his hips snapping roughly against you as your core continues to flutter weakly. Finally, when your body feels boneless and the fullness of him begins to ache, his thrusts falter and he finally stills, his cock twitching inside of you as he finishes. 

He slips out, frowning slightly with concern when you wince, but continues to hover over you, his eyes sweeping over your face as your breathing slows and your heart quietens. He stays there, stroking your hair and kissing you until his shoulders start to shake with the effort of holding himself over you. 

You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm in Marcus’s arms.

[Several moons later]

“Must we really go?” you wheedle as you watch the General fiddle with the clasp on his ceremonial robes.

“It is the most effective way to make our little statement, bellatora.” 

You cross your arms and make a show of pouting, although you know Marcus is right. You raise your arms, which are currently holding half of an unfinished braid. “Help me with my hair?” 

Marcus sighs loudly, although you know that, like your feigned petulance, it’s also an act. He takes the braid from you and finishes it before moving to the next section, plaiting it together the way he knows you like. 

“Tell me the statement again.”

He huffs. “You just like hearing me say it.”

“Yes.”

“An act against one of us is an act against both of us,” he murmurs dutifully. “And tantamount to an act of war, to be met with a swift and disproportionate response.”

“You always say that–‘disproportionate response.’ I do not understand what you mean by it.”

“Mmm. An opposing force sends one arrow into my army, I send one back. Proportionate response. Someone sends an arrow into my army, and I reign fire from the sky, burn every building to the ground, kill every citizen and remove them from every map. Disproportionate response.” Marcus finishes your hair and gently drapes the long braid over your shoulder.

“If ever you ask why I was scared of you when first we met, I will refer to you to that statement,” you say wryly. 

“You did ask, mi bellatora.” He picks up a belt and scabbard–similar to his, but smaller, more delicate, and ornate. He fastens it around your waist, cinching your dress and making you feel not only more alluring, but powerful. 

You do a little twirl and turn to him. “Do I look like the consort of an esteemed General?”

Marcus leans in and gently captures your lips with his. “You look like so much more. Now let us go into this den of wolves.”

With your head held high, you walk proudly through the halls at the General’s side, your hand tucked neatly against the crook of his elbow, until you reach the banquet hall, where the Emperor is holding a great feast. In your wildest imagination, you cannot think of a single place you want to avoid more, but you hold Marcus’s earlier promise in your mind as the heads turn to look at your entrance.

This is the last time.

The Emperor, surrounded by his entourage, raises his glass with a shout and a laugh as he sees the two of you. “The good General,” he grins wolfishly. 

“Taking his little plaything out for a walk,” one of the other men sneer. 

“Letting his little pet out of its cage,” adds another, snickering. 

Calmly, you unsheath the beautiful, ceremonial dagger that Marcus had given you as a gift and hold it at your side, just as he’d told you. A powerful warrior does not brandish their weapon or wave it under people’s noses, he had said. A powerful warrior does not need to. They simply remind their enemies that the weapon is there.

“You disrespect me,” you say, keeping your face even and your eyes stern. “And you disrespect my husband.”

Silence falls around the room. The Emperor’s men look at each other, to Marcus, and back to you again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, one of them laughs loudly.

“General Acacius is going soft,” he cackles. “Letting his little toy play pretend that she’s the wife of a noble.”

You fight to keep your expression free of malice or hurt, continuing to face them down calmly, your sword resting at your side. 

“Your gift to the General was far more valuable than you knew,” you say evenly, speaking only to the Emperor. “My family’s debt is paid in full, and I am therefore free to leave the palace at my leisure.”

The Emperor of Rome stares at you with befuddlement, his eyes wide, seemingly completely at a loss for words.

“We take our leave,” you announce with a flourish of a bow. 

“Leave?” The man sputters. “You are my finest General, you cannot–”

“I have given the Empire more than my fair share of years in service,” Marcus says quietly, standing resolutely next to you and placing his hand around your waist. “I find I have seen all I care to see of war, and the rest of my days will be filled with peace.”

Marcus turns to the other generals, who are all watching the confrontation with the Emperor. Without speaking, they draw their swords and hold them aloft in a silent salute to your husband–who solemnly returns the gesture. As you are still holding your dagger, you copy the gesture. This seems to please both him and the other Generals, who all smile. 

Marcus turns to you, beaming with affection and pride. “Let’s go home, bellatora.”

Epilogue

In a small hamlet south of the big city, a villa sits on a small hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. 

There is a rumor among some of the residents of the town that the man who lives there used to be a General in the Emperor’s army, but most of the inhabitants agree that this is a ridiculous notion. 

He’s too soft-spoken, you see; his gentle demeanor is unlike that of a soldier. He often likes to sit with his wife and watch the color of the sea change as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the moment of peace before his children wake up. 

There are five of them now–with a sixth on the way. His wife jokes that should she find herself with child for the seventh time, she’s going to feed the man’s privates to their goats. 

Their life is modest, but by all accounts of those who witness it, they are blissfully happy. Their home always seems to be filled with joy, laughter, and no small amount of chaos that always follows young children. They maintain a small farm, raise goats and chickens, and they sell their extra eggs and vegetables at the market every week, accompanied by their five children, who are helpful… to varying degrees.  

Sometimes, late at night, the odd passer-by will see the silhouette of a couple standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, wrapped in a tender embrace.

They have few visitors, but those who have been inside their villa have noted that two swords are mounted above the front door. One is large, utilitarian, but expertly crafted–with signs of wear that might indicate it has seen more conflict than most. The other is small and elegant, the hilt decorated with precious stones. 

No one has ever dared to ask about them.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Wallace Wells' Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

EDIT: Although this fic was written with a more binary trans reader in mind, I'm hoping this fic will also be suitable for AFAB nonbinary people who are masc or male adjacent, which is where I might be at. I'm currently working dating hcs for Wallace with a nonbinary reader (which will be suitable for both AFAB and AMAB readers).

Relationship(s): Wallace Wells x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings/info: Trans typical stuff, like dysphoria, transphobia etc. etc., sexual remarks, he/him pronouns for reader, headcanons were written in one sitting, when I was feeling not great. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I've been reading a lot of Succession fics over the last few days. Last night I read a Roman Roy fic and for some reason it gave me this overpowering wave of dysphoria that I still have yet to fully recover from. Annoyingly, I have yet to actually watch Succession so this could have been avoided; I just think Kieran Culkin's hot and very gender so I couldn't resist pretending that someone with his face was my boyfriend. Reading about Roman made me think 'oh shit. Maybe I'm a flawed and pathetic little guy on the inside. But I just look like a woman who likes to kiss women and everyone treats me like a girl and uses my girl name and girl pronouns and that feels super gross and makes me want to live in a hole. Now I'm going to feel bad about that for the next few days.' So, yeah, I'm having another transmasc crisis that I'm using fanfiction to get me through. I figured Kieran Culkin started this, so I might as well write something featuring a character of his that I can actually write for. This is a self-indulgent and self-explorative treat for myself, but I hope that transmasc readers can enjoy this, too. If you'd like more Wallace stuff, trans stuff or Wallace AND trans stuff, feel free to send in a request. I really want to provide more fics for transmasc readers because you guys are super underrepresented (and, y'know, Papa Gonzo-rella wants to explore his gender a little more). Also, I swear that I will get around to watching Succession, and I more than likely will end up writing for it when I do.)

Respectfully, Wallace does not give a shit that you’re trans.

Of course, he doesn’t flat-out ignore it, because it’s part of who you are, but it isn’t an obstacle in your relationship by any means, and it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

If you’re feeling dysphoric and/or otherwise insecure about yourself, he’ll pinch your cheeks and tell you how handsome and sexy you are.

If you’re feeling especially bad, like ‘not getting out of bed and hiding from the world’ bad, he’ll keep you company and say what he can to reassure you.

Being mushy and sincere truly isn’t his thing, so whatever he says will sound either slightly insensitive (but still pretty sensitive as far as Wallace goes), facetious or like he wants you to get over how you’re feeling so he can fuck you.

But, he genuinely doesn’t want you to feel bad and you can tell he cares, because otherwise he wouldn’t be there for you when you're feeling your worst.

Wallace is very affirming, but in his own Wallace way.

He lovingly refers to you as his lameass boyfriend.

If Scott ever compliments you about anything, Wallace will call him gay.

He will shout ‘gay’, like the Senor Chang meme.

"Hey, man, I like your shirt-"

"Ha, Scott's gay!"

"I-I'm not gay! I just like his shirt."

"What's wrong with being gay, Scott?"

"Nothing! There's nothing wrong with being gay!"

"You really need to work on your internalised homophobia, Scott. To think, my gay lover and I share a bed with a bigot."

If you’re doing anything that he knows will make you dysphoric or exacerbate your dysphoria (for example, scrolling through social media and looking at cis dudes that give you gender envy) he’ll shut it down.

Using the aforementioned example, he’ll snatch your phone off you and close the app, saying: “Nope. Make better decisions.”

And, while you’d initially be annoyed at him for grabbing your phone, you will appreciate it in the long run.

If you have testosterone shots but you’re not a fan of doing them yourself, he’ll begrudgingly help you with them.

He will make a very Wallace comment, though

“Stabbing? I didn’t know you were that kinky.”

If anyone’s a dick to you about being trans, Wallace is always ready to go with a snide remark about the other person, because of all the things you could possibly mock his lameass boyfriend for, being trans is at the bottom of that list.

(He should know, as the person who makes fun of you the most.)

Also, he cares about you very, very much and he doesn't want people being transphobic to his boyfriend.

If you’re cool with it, he will make trans jokes, but nothing ‘attack helicopter’ or ‘attack helicopter’ adjacent, because he’s too clever for that and he can come up with better material that isn’t just derivative, transphobic garbage.

If you get your period and it makes you at all dysphoric, be prepared for this exchange:

“Don’t worry. Scott pissed blood last month and cried about it and he’s still a man.”

“Did-did he go to the doctor?”

“I don’t know. He seems fine now, though.”

If you still have boobs and don’t mind them being touched or otherwise acknowledged, he will use them like a pillow.

If you decide to get top surgery, he will make the following request:

“Well, if you’re not using them, can I have them? I need a pillow that Scott won’t steal. And, he wouldn’t steal your tits, because he knows I’d call him gay for it.”

“Why are you like this, Wallace?”

“Selfish.”

Being trans doesn’t make your relationship much different from any of Wallace’s other relationships.

You’re just, for better or worse, another one of Wallace’s boyfriends.

[novasintheroom]

032. Limb

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.6k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash is more worried about you than his arm.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

In the brush of crowd, your hand interlocks with his. It’s hard to walk side-by-side in the press. One of you often takes the lead while the other is pulled along. Tomas carts drag by, men and women in dust-ridden clothes hurry to their different destinations, oglers from out of town yap while standing in the road. It’s noisy in the middle of the day. Both of you have your masks over your face – there’s a lot of dust being kicked up from so many feet.

Over the din, you raise your voice. “We should check out the blacksmith, see if he has what you need for your arm.”

Vash looks back, being in the lead for a moment. His eyes flick across yours before he shakes his head. “We need to get some money first. We only have enough to buy a few more meals.”

You purse your lips and give him a look – something Vash has come to call your ‘disagreement’ face. He turns away before it can affect him. “We won’t be able to make any money if your arm keeps malfunctioning.”

“We’ll be fine,” he says, pulling you to the left as two tomas riders trundle along.

“We won’t be – ugh – “ you accidentally bump into a woman walking the other way and say a quick apology. Vash pulls you closer, feeling the brush of your chest against his back every few steps. You continue, “We need to get your arm fixed. That’s our first priority.”

He walks a few steps, then says, “My first priority is making sure you’re fed.”

It has the dual effect of making you mushy and irritated. “Birdie,” you whisper, pulling him to the side of a building so that you’re out of the way. He lets you – he always lets you – and looks at you with those desperately sad eyes. “Please, don’t do this. So we skip a few meals, that’s better than letting your arm fritz and hurt you every time you move it.”

You can see the smile through his mask, the one that’s meant to be placating. “I’ll be fine, mayfly. I won’t be if I see you go hungry.”

This, from the man who skips meals when things don’t go his way. You pull down your mask to give him the full force of your frown. “I’m a big girl, birdie. I can handle it. Please, let’s not go back and forth about this. You need parts for your arm. Then we can get some jobs done and have a big meal after. Okay?”

And with your mask down, he sees the shape of your lips, the puff of your cheeks as you give your best puppy dog look. It doesn’t affect him the way you want it to; your pout is off-center, and there’s a hardness in your eyes. But it still gets his heart fluttering, still makes his mouth move, imagining it pressed to yours.

Vash sighs and rubs his neck. His metal limb fritzes while he does, and a wince echoes in his brows. He knows you saw it. “Mayfly – “

“Vash, please don’t make me beg.”

He feels more than shows the flinch of hearing his name. You’re serious. Dead serious. And, like he always does when it comes to you, he relents. Reluctantly, but he does. With another sigh, he nods. “Okay…alright. But only one part. Enough to get by, then we have lunch.”

Your smile is bright. Relief at the compromise washes over.  Parts for his arm and he eats? Absolutely a win. “Deal.” Slowly, you take his hand again and squeeze it. He squeezes back after a moment. Putting your mask back up, you go on your tiptoes to press your covered nose to his. His eyes smile at the gesture, and together you walk hand-in-hand back through the throngs.  

[littlemelaninfics]

Hii I’m pretty new to 9-1-1 and caught up in like a month lol!

Since you right for Black girls, can you write something about Buck confiding in Hen and Karen or even Athena about being with a black woman? Love your work!🖤

I love that for you! It’s an easy watch, but it’s so intense 👀

Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun with it and I hope readers can relate 🤍

I see a time when Buck and Hen get drunk again with Karen and the topic of hair is brought up:

“So many products! There’s rejuvenating, hydrating…curl quenching? Don’t they all do the same thing?” Buck asked with his eyes squinted, half with curiosity and half due to the blood running to his face.

“Absolutely not!”

“No!” Karen and Hen exclaimed, stepping on each others words,

“Hair that contains melanin requires much more care. One day it’s soft and bouncy and the next it’s dry and brittle like a birds nest,” Karen explained.

“Hence,” Hen said as she lazily pointed to her bald head and poured another shot.

“Yeah…but…”

“But?” Hen asked choking down the contents of her glass

“She won’t let me help her with it. I mean..Taylor a-and Abby loved when I played in their hair-“

“You didn’t tell her that, did you?” Karen interrupted.

“Of course,” Buck replied confidently looking slightly to the side as if the conversation turned argument was replaying in his head.

“Noo, Buck,” she said putting her head on the table.

“A-a-and she got sooo mad!”

“First of all, women don’t like to hear about what the women before her enjoyed,” Hen started to explain,

“It makes her think you’re still thinking about them,” Karen said in agreement.

“I-I’m not! Not at all!” Buck tried his best to defend himself, but the drinks were staring to hit faster and faster.

“Second of all, Black women have never been allowed to think her hair is enough,” Hen continued but she could tell she was losing Buck,

“Meaning, she’s always been told it’s too wild or too nappy. So the thought of someone “playing” in our hair makes our skin crawl,” she said matter of factly.

“So then I just never touch her hair?”

“No, Buck. You need to break down that wall with her that has been up since before grade school. Watch what she does, look up YouTube videos if you have to, but it’s more than what you think.”

“Is it cause I’m white?” He hated asking the question, but he wouldn’t know the answer if he didn’t. When Karen and Hen just took sips from their cups, Buck slumped in his chair, sighing in defeat.

“It’s different for both of you. Why do you think we’re even talking about it…with you?”

He propped his head in his palm, looking at the wet ring stained in the wood table. Hen and Karen were right. Buck is not completely out of touch and should’ve known it was more than he was understanding.

He begged his friends to crack open their laptop and share enlightening stories about their hair journeys. That night he studied Black Hair Care as much as he could. Since he’s only touched her hair during a movie or sexual activity, he found her texture is 3C with a 3B framing and 4B crown. He spotted her favorite products by the color of the label and airdropped himself articles he wanted to revisit. Karen couldn’t help but feel mushy as she finally understood the scope of the love Buck has for Y/N and she couldn’t be happier.

He sobered up over the next couple of hours and ordered his Uber home. On the ride, he couldn’t help but imagine the direction their relationship was about to go, smiling to himself gently. He walked through the front door hearing the shower run and decided to shed his street clothes into something more comfortable. Once he had been home for 15 minutes and Y/N still wasn’t out of the shower, he knew she was taking an Everything Shower.

Buck got up and went to the hall closet, picking up her hair basket. He started to get intimidated when actually handling the products and Denman Brush, but that quickly changed to excitement when he remembered she still has to teach him, no matter what. He heard the shower turn off and wet patting across the hardwood. Buck went over her whole routine in his head and anticipated you walking down the stairs.

You rounded the corner and was meant with waiting eyes,

“Hi,” Buck said with his famous grin.

“Hi,” you replied looking at him and then your hair stuff out and displayed,

“What are-”

“Um, come sit,” he said plopping back on the couch. You looked at the two pillows stacked on the floor between his legs,

“Buck…” you said unsure.

“I’ve already learned how to love all of you. Let me learn how to take care of all of you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you slowly crossed the floor panels. You knew you weren’t just walking to get your hair done. You were taking steps into your future with a man who wanted every bit of you.

[mjrtaurus]

Monkey D Urpi headcanons (source: Oda shared it with me in a dream)

- She’s gotta be atleast 6 or 7 feet tall for logistic reasons yes but also because Tall Women ❤️

- Idrk how face claims work but I imagine her to look something like Simone Ashley

- As all other members of the Monkey family do, she’s got a scar on the left side of her face

- A tattoo that wraps around her wrist, almost like a bracelet

- Her and Garp are 2-3 years apart in age (they’re beating the weird age gap grandparents allegations fr)

- Hips length hair. At least 25% of Garp's paycheck gets put into hair care, hair ties, combs/brushes and lint rollers, he'd never ask his family to change but god does it get EVERYWHERE.

- She was the one to make the first move officially (had asked Garp to accompany to a cafe she had gotten a flyer to, face turned away to hide the flush settling on.)

- Big reader, mostly on the varying plants and ecosystems of the different islands on the Grandline and occasionally dips into the mythology of the Blue Sea (just to see what else they got wrong)

- Do not bring up Noland the Liar around her, whatever’s in her hand will shatter and she’ll begin to mutter very quickly under her breathe

- Skilled fighter but actively hates having to fight. It’s less about being scared for and more perpetuating a cycle, violence will only bred more violence. It has its uses but she’d rather not use it at all

- Garp made the mistake of asking her to join the Marines exactly once. The look she gave him was so venomous the topic of enlisting wasn’t brought up again until Dragon was born.

- Has possessed Mantra/Observation Haki from incredibly an early age and developed Armament Haki through training with Garp

- Instantly goes into mother mode around younger people. Physically cannot help it. She just has to dote on them. Definitely takes it up a notch when she’s grandmother age

- Would certainly approve of the ASL's dreams of being pirates/revolutionaries. Who is she to stand in the way of their search for Freedom?

- She and Crocodile get along swimmingly! They discuss mushroom foraging and she shows him all the best for it on Elbaf!

- Consistently refers to Kuzan as her ‘second born’ before someone (usually Sengoku) reminds her that she did not in fact birth him. She would agree and then do the same thing the very next day.

- Big fan of the newspaper since it keeps her up to date on the happenings of her family. Keeps all issues they are mentioned in pristine condition and chronological order.

- Gets intense waves of guilt for ‘leaving her people behind’ and would often wonder if she deserves that happiness she found here.

- Has no inherent ill feelings towards Gan Fall anymore but definitely didn’t like him back then. She’s still a little taken aback when Luffy mentions what a help he was during his time in Skypiea

- Is relentless in her pride of Dragon and everything he has accomplished. She had watched him grow from a sweet little boy who cried when a Den Den Mushi had to be decommissioned to a man who was out to save the world. He is her every wildest wish come true.

Taking down these notes because I might just have to put her on a canvas at some point.

Some additions I would also like to add!

- her surprising proficiency for Mantra/Observation Haki was inherited by Dragon, and she helped him train it.

- When Dragon found her on Elbaf (and let’s say after the WG falls to hell where it belongs) he makes time to take her and Garp to Shandora to hear the Bell that their grandson reclaimed.

- While up there, she reunites with her little sister Nina, and meets her grandnephew Wyper.

- she always had mixed feelings about Dragon joining the marines, but she understood his heart was in the right place. Shame the rest of the Navy couldn’t say the same.

- Dragon’s desertion was a hard time for everyone, but they all knew it was inevitable. Her boy would climb higher and higher in the ranks, and his eyes would have less and less of their warmth. By the time he attained the rank of Admiral, there was hardly anything of her sweet, gentle soul of a son left. It tore her and Garp’s heart to shreds.

- Dragon’s desertion was a planned thing. He had been stationed at Ohara to oversee an expedition, and he had seen the archaeologists be given bounties for the sin of doing their job. He showed up on his parent’s doorstep in the dead of night to tell them he was going to have to be on the run from now on. Urpi gave him her earrings. They are the only thing she had left that had survived her fall from Skypiea and her journey across the seas. They would go with him now on his journey.

- The bounty posters that had been released of Nico Robin following Ohara’s destruction gave her pause. Dragon had mentioned working with a Nico Olvia during this expedition, this child certainly looked like her mother if you looked at the bounty posters side by side but… her complexion, the coloration of her hair… a quick tally of the dates and she can’t help but wonder if she inherited her father’s wings, too.

- when she saw Dragon again after so long, she hugged his neck. His eyes were warm again. He had his hope again. It was tempered with Nika knew how many trials, but he was still the loving little boy with the downy wings that she sang to sleep every night so many years ago…

- she was intrigued by Crocodile. She had heard these “devil fruits” could do wonderful things, but to change a body to match the soul within it… it was incredible. To know her son had helped set this man on that path to change made her wings fluff up with pride. She wishes she could have met Olvia, too.

- after coming to Elbaf, she NEVER covers her wings. She cuts holes in the backs of her clothes for them to fit through, sews clothes using patterns and stitches she knows by heart… as much as she lover Garp, Goa had been stifling. Upon seeing the cuts and mends in the backs of Dragons shirts when he visits, she can tell he suffered the same.

[maykitty]

Trafalgar Law x Pregnant!Reader: Christmas Time (One Shot)

Warning: body image issues, fear of cheating, miscarriage, and being left behind.

Background: You and Law have been married for a while. Now your life is going to be bigger with the arrival of a child soon. You are 7 months pregnant and it is Christmas day. Law is spending time with you but as you get the news the straw hats are coming to visit your worries about your life with Law start to catch up.

Y/n was decorating the tree while Law was helping with the cooking. Her belly was big and heavy with a child. “Y/n you should sit down I think you decorated the tree enough,” Bepo said. “Lunch is ready” Law shouted. Since you became pregnant Law and the crew have been keeping a close eye wanting the baby to be safe. Everyone sits down for lunch while Law helps you into a seat next to him.

“I help the chef make safe recipes for the baby,” Law said rubbing your stomach. The crew is eating the tasty food especially you are enjoying it due to the baby making you hungry for more. “Purururu, purururu, purururu click” “Hello” Law answers the den-den mushi. “Oh Traffy, we are near to meet for Christmas party” Luffy shouted on the phone. “Ok, you don't have to scream in my ear Strawhat-ya”. Law said back annoyed.

Strawhat’s ship arrived at your home base you moved into after becoming pregnant. Nami and Robin hug you congratulating you on the baby. Everyone was having fun and talking during the Christmas party. You looked for Law but he talking to Robin. You don't know why but you always get worried about seeing them together due to people thinking they are dating because Law wanted to keep your relationship secret only to your close allies due to fear someone could use you against him.

It didn't help that Robin was a big-breasted skinny long-haired goddess of a woman. While you were walking around with a large stomach and chubby thighs looking all gross due to the baby keeping you up and tired. It made you feel lesser during the pregnancy. It didn't help that as you were researching in your early stage you found that pregnant women suffer from being cheated on by their partners this didn't make you feel any better that Law was close to Robin who is not carrying a baby in her like you are. You need to get rid of these thought since it making you feel depressed and that is not good for the baby.

You don't want those thoughts bothering you and making you stressed. When you got pregnant you were afraid Law would be angry but he was happy you were having his child. You did everything it make sure your baby is healthy. But you had fears that grew as you got further in the pregnancy like what if you miscarry as it is common and unpredictable would Law hate you and leave you if it happened? What if, after the baby is born he gets tired of you and leaves for Robin?

These thoughts started to take over no matter how hard you try to ignore them and you start to feel sick thinking about it. You walked to the bathroom to puke out your lunch and looked in the mirror at yourself feeling grossed out at your body changing. Law was talking to Robin about his fear of becoming a parent when he saw you going to the bathroom and excused himself to check on you. “Y/n-ya, are you ok?” Law asked behind the door. “I'm fine, just some nausea” you respond.

“May I come in?” Law asks, you open the door to let him in. “Sorry, I felt sick and needed to get away from everyone”. You said in a sad tone. “What's wrong?” Law asked worried. You decide to tell him about everything your jealousy of Robin, your worry about how your body has changed, your fear of losing your baby, and him leaving you behind. “I'm sorry Law, I don't know if I will be a good mom with everything bothering me,” you said feeling more doubt.

Law walks over to you and hugs you. “I will never cheat on you and Robin is only a friend like the rest of the strawhats are” Law tries to make you feel better. “When you told me you were pregnant at first I didn't want the baby but then thinking about raising a child with you that we made from our love made me reconsider.” “No matter what happens I will always love you and be there for you”. He added. “Stop saying all that bad stuff about your body you look amazing to me since day 1.” “when I saw your stomach growing and you caring for our unborn child makes you more beautiful” he finished. You cried in his arms feeling relieved from his words and thank him.

You two hold each other for a while before going back to the party. Everyone came over to see if you were okay and if you needed anything for the baby. “Well I'm a bit hungry,” you said feeling the baby wanted food. Sanji gives you a delicious bowl of food and the rest of the crew go back to enjoying their Christmas. A few hours later, the party ends and strawhats leave.

Everyone else was getting ready for bed. You put on your pajamas and get into bed with Law joining you. He started to rub your belly again and kiss you as the two of you lay in bed together. “Merry Christmas, y/n - ya,” Law said after the kiss. “Merry Christmas, my beloved,” you said back as sleep take you while in Law’s embrace this Christmas night.

[blacklegsanjiii]

Can I show you a little thing? Fem!Sanji x Hiyori. Just- them meeting each other in Wano and Hiyori immediately feeling things for her while trying to convince herself she likes Zoro. Robin at some point notices, and with the help of a little but meaningful talk with the woman, Hiyori finally chooses to act upon what she fells.

It ends great, Sanji is also in love with the blue/green haired girl when the StrawHats leave. Hiyori notices after some talk with the blonde that pirate is perfect, the type of people she would love to marry one day. At the time the crew leaves, both are already dating or something pretty close to that, and they promise to communicate by letters or Den Den Mushi calls.

After Luffy turns King of the Pirates, and Sanji finds the All Blue, everyone is celebrating when Hiyori, her brother and Yamato arrives. And seeing the woman of her life, the love of her life as beautiful as the last time they see each other and happy after reaching her dream, she can't just help the words "Marry me, please, I want to be with you for the rest of my life" leave her mouth.

The StrawHats hear this, and when Sanji (after the initial shock) says a "Yes!" full of happyness and hug and kiss her Hiyori, they all cheer.

After, Sanji offers at Hiyori to go at Baratie, meet Zeff and the other chefs. Of course, when the Thousand Sunny arrives after a call two days before saying they're going and Sanji has a surprise for her "father", the last thing Zeff thought was that he was going to meet the woman his daughter is in love and going to marry soon. The Baratie closes and they (Zeff, his little eggplant, Sanji, and her future wife, fucking princess Kozuki Hiyori) talk, Zeff and Hiyori get along.

The marriage happens some weeks later, and it happens in Wano, with the Baratie, some people from Momoiro and friends from the StrawHats seeing. After being officially married, Sanji opens a restaurant in Wano, with dishes from the All Blue and the other four Blues (she wants the next generation to find the All Blue themselves, and there she will live with her precious wife).

Comphet Hiyori is really struggling and doesn't understand why that blonde woman is driving her mad. First she thinks it's because of how much time that woman spends with Zoro and how close they are. She keeps glaring at Sanji who is confused and Robin is laughing to herself the entire time. Robin eventually asks Hiyori what she feels towards the swordsman and the cook and Hiyori talks about Zoro first and then starts going off about Sanji, first about how she's annoying and taking Zoro away from her. Then as Hiyori is ranting to Robin, she starts rambling about how the cook should be paying attention to her, feeding her. She's rambling and ranting and Robin interrupts her to ask if she would like the cook to dote on her. Hiyori pauses and stumbles over syllables and Robin mentions that while Sanji and Zoro are rivals, Sanji's the biggest lesbian she knows, and she knows Nami.

Hiyori stares at Robin with wide eyes and asks for clarification. Robin explains that Sanji doesn't like men and she likes women. Sanji has been pining over her actually and that's most of Zoro and her fight at the moment because Sanji thinks he doesn't know how to behave in front of a woman let alone a princess. Hiyori tries to stumble out that Sanji doesn't know how to use a sword and Robin points out she doesn't fight with her hands because they are her treasures, just as Wano is Hiyori's. Hiyori asks if she really has a shot with the blond woman and Robin says she has more than a shot if she goes and finds the cook quickly. The speed at which Hiyori is gone makes Robin giggle again.

Of course the cook is alarmed Hiyori has found her, is panting and looking slightly crazed and asks if she needs anything and Hiyori is just like 'You! I need you!' and Sanji is saying that she is always at her service. Oblivious because why would an actual princess like her? Impossible, perish the thought. Sanji could only dream of an actual princess like Hiyori liking her. But Hiyori is looking at her like a starving woman and Sanji would feed the starving with her body. Hiyori starts rambling about her talk with Robin and how she thought she was jealous of Sanji for spending time with Zoro when she was actually jealous of the attention she was giving to Zoro. Sanji is listening and says if she needs anything to not hesitate to ask but Hiyori says she already gave her answer and her answer was Sanji. Sanji is trying to laugh it off awkwardly again because she doesn't believe anyone would like her like that, especially not the princess she's been jealous of Zoro getting the attention, not understanding the honor he had. Gods have they really just been pining over each other since meeting?

Apparently the answer is yes as Hiyori closes the distance and asks the cook to take a break with her, spend time with her. Sanji agrees and goes with the princess where they have a more in depth talk about what's going on and it lasts for hours because it turns into them getting to know each other. Hiyori likes how the cook looks in the night, a cigarette hanging from her mouth and the smoke curling into the air. If they fall asleep Robin simply giggles when she finds them and lays a blanket over them, tells the others not to disturb them as Franky quietly cries and calls them adorable and he's so glad the cook found someone after what happened with her family. The next morning Sanji is cooking for them all and Hiyori is watching enamored with the cook's movements and Zoro just rolls his eye at them. Sanji is making more of a show of it than normal as she serves the food. Yeah, Hiyori is so fucked.

When it's time for the strawhats to leave a few weeks later the women realize they are in love. They are crying and kissing with soft smiles and promises to keep in contact. Yamato is holding Hiyori close as they wave the Thousand Sunny off. Robin has an arm around Sanji as well as she watches Wano slip below the horizon line. Nami says it was the same way when Vivi stayed behind in Alabasta, the cat burglar's girlfriend who is also a princess. Sanji asks if gets easier and Nami shrugs, says yes and no, that Sanji will get used to them not being there but it sucks when things happen and they're not, that letters and calls can only do so much. Sanji nods, they do call as much as they can- even if they cut in and out, letters are slow coming to and from Wano for obvious reasons. Wano is still closed off so it's not as fast as Alabasta or the others.

Years later, Luffy the King of the Pirates and the crew still with him, following their dreams and becoming the best versions of themselves. They find the All Blue and are there for a while, Nami called Wano to let them know and give them coordinates to get there, to surprise Sanji. It's been a non-stop celebration since they've arrived and Sanji is busy cataloguing everything she's found, fish plants, spices. She's been cooking and feeding the crew and having fun and swimming and diving with Jinbei who is just as excited to see everything as her. Then a boat arrives as well and Sanji is confused until she sees Momonosuke, Hiyori and Yamato, all of them cheering and Sanji is shocked and excited to see her, in the All Blue of all places. Sanji is shocked and happy and bewildered and just in disbelief the love of her life is here, in the All Blue, screaming for her. Running across a gang plank into her arms and hoisting the cook up and kissing her. Sanji is trying to say something to her but she can't get words out.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left Wano." Hiyori smiles at her and kisses her again. Sanji is flustered and holding onto her tightly and there's tears of happiness falling from her eyes because this is unbelievable, completely and totally unbelievable. "Show me everything you've found." Hiyori demands and that gives Sanji a way to finally start kind of talking to her. When Sanji is finally calmed down enough to excitedly ramble to the princess about everything she's found, she's cooked. Hiyori is watching the blonde with nothing but adoration and love in her eyes. When they're all on deck later, curled up together and watching the crew around them it just seems so natural to ask Sanji to marry her, like there's no better time to ask, so she does. Sanji's eyes widen to look at her and then kisses her.

"Of course I'll marry you!" Sanji laughs wetly. "Fucking hells, you're going to make me cry again." Everyone has gone silent to watch them, Sanji is smiling so widely and Hiyori is head over heels and swords for this woman.

"Woo! Another party to celebrate them getting married!" Luffy cheers.

"Engaged, you shit rubber!" Sanji yells at him as she moves to start cooking again but Robin pins her down with extra limbs sprouting around her.

"Our turn, it's your celebration." Robin smiles politely as she and Nami head to the kitchen.

After a few more days of celebrating Sanji says they need to head to Baratie so that Hiyori can meet Zeff properly and the rest of the East Blue Crew agree it would be good to go home and see their respective friends and families and tell them everything. So they head back to the East, the first stop being the Baratie where another party is thrown. Zeff is happy to see his daughter and then he is introduced to her fiancee who is the princess of Wano and currently smiling very widely at him and bowing and shaking his hand because of how much she loves Sanji. Zeff approves of her heartily and Patty and Carne keep giving Sanji so much shit for being engaged and absolutely teasing her to hell and back. Everyone agrees to head to Wano for the wedding though, Momo says it's going to be huge and grand and fit for them and it is. It happens two weeks after everyone arrives and Sanji puts her foot down about Zeff cooking for the reception because as her father he should be enoying it with her but he does get to make the cake with the rest of the Baratie staff. Zeff says it should be perfect and she gestures around them in the palace saying Momo won't let it not be perfect, also look at Luffy and Nami - they also only want everything perfect for the wedding.

The day of the guests are plentiful, Iva and some other from Kamabakka, most of the Strawhat allies, Reiju shows up. The ceremony is sweet and the party is long and grand and the drinks are flowing and the music never ending as guests dance and eat and wish the couple well. Sanji and Hiyori dance and Zeff dances with both the brides and so does Momo and Luffy. Hell even Zoro dances with Sanji and grumbles about it the whole time as she laughs at him. They're rivals, ya know?

Sanji opens a restaurant in Wano but I don't think the Baratie would relocate since Wano isn't reopen. Sanji does still leave as she's still on the crew but she's never gone long and Hiyori goes with her more often than not. They go to the East Blue to see Zeff and work the Baratie sometimes, catch up with old regulars. She takes Zeff to the All Blue and Sanji will regularly head there to get things for the restaurant. Hiyori dotes on the chef and chef absolutely dotes back. On their travels Sanji tells the newer generations coming forth about going regularly to the All Blue, won't share the information on how to get there. Keeps saying it's more fun to find it themselves.

[nexility-sims]

𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡   |   BREIZH, ARMORICA 2008

❧  happy birthday, beloved friend @armoricaroyalty ! this post is so late, but it's done, and i'm happy to share it. i'll save the huge mushy note and just say i'm so grateful to have spent all this time building the best expanded crossover universe ever, to which "collabs" doesn't do justice—that, plus all the friendship stuff, too :^)

‎‎‎‎‎❛ Elise, in a restaurant she had never been to, wearing a dress she had never worn, waiting for someone she hadn’t seen in years, was uncomfortable. She maintained a good façade, however. Pretending her confidence was unshaken had become a skill. The doubt crept in as she pushed herself into ill-fitting molds—ones that, even after all this time, she couldn’t break herself enough to suit. At her best, she didn’t want to. The pressure got to her other times. She had felt it like an unwanted touch as she stood in front of a mirror and regarded the assistant who dressed her with wary eyes. Before instructing them to pull a dress to pair with heels and jewelry, she had swallowed her pride. She could imagine, even if she didn’t know what Leonor may wear to a luncheon, how it would feel to sit across from her. She wanted to be secure and able to enjoy herself, and the price was this particular kind of discomfort.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Yet, once they embraced and began to talk, it dissipated. They had both changed over the years, although Leonor especially. She wasn’t the round-faced young woman—just a girl, really, barely out of her teenage awkwardness—Elise remembered. Still, they were transported from their table for two and back to the summer house. Some of the memories were still fond ones. They had talked and laughed many times before, whether as they had breakfast in the kitchen or as they watched Roz carefully collect shells on the beach. Leonor remembered the good times, too. Though this was the first time she requested to meet, Elise had received bouquets on the occasions she was in Armorica, either on her own diplomatic business or accompanying her husband. She knew Elise liked white roses. The note, always a thick card from Breizh’s premier florist, would bear only a signature.

She hadn’t needed Leonor to say anything, but it meant something now that she did.

TRANSCRIPT:

{Indistinct conversation, light music}

[S] May I bring you something else while you wait, Your Majesty? [E] “Ma’am,” please. And, no, thank you. I think that’s her now.

[L] What a treat!

[E] How long has it been? Almost a decade? [L] Since the wedding.

[E] So, tell me everything. How are you? [L] {Exhales heavily}

[L] I haven’t slept more than five hours in as many years, and I can count the days off on my hands, but I love every minute of it.

[E] It must be interesting work then. [R] Rarely boring.

[E] I enjoy having so much time with my children, really, but … I do wish I had more time for the kinds of things you do. [L] “Armorica’s Mother of the Year, Every Year.” Modiste.

[E] Women can have it all now, can’t they? [L] They can. You can. You’re a queen, Elise. You can have whatever you want. [E] It’s not that simple.

[L] It is. [E] There are expectations, and other people are involved in— [L] I’m sorry, Elise, but I know you. You’re confident, capable, and very smart. You should be able to do more than tote around babies and smile for family photos. It’s their loss if you can’t.

[E] I knew what I signed up for when I married in. I’m happy. Do I wish I could do more interesting and important work? Well, not that the children aren’t interesting and important, but… [L] {Laughs} I know what you mean. And, you know—

[S] Ma’am? Your Highness? May I send your requests to the chef? [E] Oh … We didn’t even look at the menu! [S] It’s prix fixe today, but I have been instructed to assure you we can prepare anything you desire, within reason.

[E] I’ll have what she’s having. [L] {Chuckles} To start, have Abelardo make us turkey stew. He’ll know which. [S] | I’ll tell him, Your Highness.

[E] Now, I have to ask: how is it, having your own little one? She’s getting big now, right? What’s she like? [L] {Laughs} She’s five—what is there to say?

[L] I stopped taking to her to work when the breastfeeding stopped … Three years ago? Dan and I try, but I’ve heard her call the nanny “mama” by accident more than I care to admit. We went to a dance recital before the trip. She already works so hard. It’s precious. [E] Precious is right! Sounds like she takes after her mother.

[E] I remember when mine were that age. You know what Rosalind was like! Freddy? Completely different, and Jacques—

{Elise continues talking}

{Elise, talking}

[E] —and, of course, Roz being Roz, she told Freddy— [L] I have a proposal for you.

[L] Dan and I were considering inviting you and Andre to dinner sometime this week. Do you think he would be interested? [E] Um—dinner? [L] I’d like to invite Roz, too.

[E] Well, I’m not sure. It is last minute, and they both have such full schedules all the time. I could suggest it to him and see, but— [L] Elise, it’s fine.

[L] It was an idea. I can see them another time. I’m just pleased that you were available so last minute. [E] I’m glad, too.

[L] I mean it, really. We haven’t had a proper conversation in a very long time, and I’m grateful you wanted to spend time with me. [E] Thank you for asking me out. Usually it’s just the flowers.

[L] I respect and care for you, Elise. [E] That’s very sweet … [L] I always have, and I always will. I didn’t always show it—quite the opposite—but it’s important to me that you know that.

[E] I believe you. I do.

[L] Oh, do you smell that? Chili, achiote … [E] Sounds spicy. [L] {Snickers}

[L] I had an idea while we were splitting that poached pear. [E] Did you? [L] An interesting and important opportunity for you. [E] Leonor… [L] | Leave it all to me. I insist.

[E] Thank you. [L] My pleasure.

[lawbin-archive]

Lawbin Dressrosa Analysis 2 - Save me save you

When I was coming up a title for this, I thought of the song - "Save me save you" by WJSN, because Robin saved Law in this arc lol So I went to search up the lyrics and actually it fits my delulu so well. If you're curious you can search the whole lyrics, here are a few lines:

"I will protect you so you don't get hurt I can tell even with small gestures All the painful memories deep in your heart is no more I'll wrap you in my arms, now tell me"

highlighted in purple are my delulu~

Again, don't read if you don't like Lawbin. Includes lots of bias.

~LAWBIN FRIENDS PHASE~

Chapter 731 ~ 773: Defeat Doflamingo with you

Robin changed her mind after hearing the story of Dressrosa. Instead of destroying the factory only, they decided to take down Doflamingo together. Everyone changed their mind after seeing the country's situation and at the end, their goal aligned including Law and Robin. Robin actually changed a lot after time skip. After joining straw hats, she's finally showing her empathy side and feelings instead of hiding it.

Baby 5 & Law and Luffy & Robin gave me so much siblings vibes here!! It's like Baby 5 hitting his older brother, got scared and seek her another brother for protection. And Luffy is like the younger brother trying to complain everything to his older sister and seeking agreement from her haha He also did the same when the beginning of the arc where he argued with Momo that he can fly, but Robin said "he doesn't have wings though". So cute!! It would be such cute scenes if it's not happening during a disaster.

I actually think Robin is trying to confirm Law's whereabouts here. Because she already knew Zoro and Luffy are there, except them, there are Viola and Riku there. Robin haven't met Viola and her father yet so she probably not asking about them. And she knew Franky is at the toys house, Kinemon was with them before, so in my opinion, I think Robin is asking about Law. And it makes sense because she separated with him at Greenbit and probably worry about his situation after hearing he got beat by Doflamingo.

Law gave me so much Alabasta or Eneis Lobby Robin vibes here (how many times I have said that lol) To me, It's not like they don't care about other people lives, some of their actions are telling the opposite, it's like they have so much burden on themselves that they don't even have time or strength to care about others. As I mentioned above, Robin starting show her emotions now because she didn't need to pretend tough to avoid getting hurt anymore. I actually hope one day we can see Law showing the real him too. I would say he is much relax after this arc and in Wano but I feel like he is still putting a lot of responsibilities and burden to himself :(

Look at this!! Robin has Law's den den mushi contact here!!! (they all probably have to connect each other haha) But this proves that it wouldn't be unreasonable if we see Robin and Law contacting each other after Wano because she has the contact *smirk*

Ooo the Eneis Lobby vibe, Robin trying to help Law unlock his cuff just like the crew trying to do the same when she was in Eneis Lobby *sob* And I think because she couldn't help him much at Green Bit, so she's trying to help more here. I think other straw hats probably won't care as much if they were in her situation, so he's lucky that Robin is the one helping him here haha

The third time Robin use wings in front of Law!!! So elegant and beautiful!! ><

She's like I'll protect you guys just go. This women is just so hot. And I think she really treated Law like a friend here because she brought the key to Law even though there were lots of obstacles, she protected him in order for them to defeat Doflamingo, she worried about him 1/3 of the arc. She really treat him differently than the last arc and I think maybe how Law acted during Punk Hazard and Green Bit made her changed her view on him? And if I think about would other straw hat (except Luffy) do the same? I really doubt they would. And would Robin do the same if it's another non-straw hat? She probably would (for example Kinemon) but I doubt if she will be that worried and react the same for Law.

Every time I read this made me feel sad, Law literally plan his whole life to defeat him and he is finally free after defeating Doflamingo, but the time he's being free is so little. literally only a month? and in this month, he still need to worry about defeating a yonko. And Oda decided to make that worse after....sigh. I also saw a tweet that Law probably has survival guilt after all the things happened in his life. But because of this, I think he might have a character development like Robin soon. (If Oda has mercy)

Again, Robin mentioned about the key which means delivering the key (releasing Law) is important to her or she always keep that in mind. If you think about it, Robin really talked like she thank you Rebecca for doing a favour for her friend.

Chapter 779 ~ 783: Save you

Robin is worrying about Law again. But also, if I put all my bias away, it might be also because they are in an alliance so it's natural that she is worrying about him. But if I think it in my delulu, She cares a lot about him!! Even in Wano, I rarely see Robin worrying a non-straw hat (a guy) that much.

Seriously, after she saw Luffy and Doflamingo jump out, the first thing she saw is how bad Law is. I wouldn't believe if you told me they weren't more than ally because of how worried she is.

Finally, we have arrived one of the lawbin's famous scenes. Robin saved him and caught him using Spider Net and according to Internet, the only two times she used spider net to save or catch someone are for Zoro and Law. And she treated him so genteelly!! I also have read a fic* that said this probably the moment when Law felt he's treated like a human. During the arc, he has been fighting, calculating, and trying his best to defeat Doflamingo. He acted very rationally through out the arc. But in this moment, he felt warm, he is protected and he can be passed out without worrying about his safety which happens really rare for him :'( *Here is the fic I'm mentioned!! It's one of the favorite lawbin fics. Take my Heart & Please Don’t Break It by CericeBelle

Robin is willing to risk her body to save Law *sob* Especially when she was already hurt when she was protecting Rebecca *sob* I always wonder if Law knew he was saved by Robin here. He probably knew? Even though he passed out, I think he won't lost all his consciousness and can feel he is saved by another person. And when he was awake later, he probably knew Robin saved him because she was right beside him. And kudos to cabbage-kun, he was so nice to Robin and carried Law T-T I think he might told Law about what happen when he passed out in the next chapter because they were alone on the platform.

I just noticed this, in the left panel, did robin just hold Law without using her ability? this girl is so strong and she's still protecting him!!

So Law did tell Robin and Cabbage-kun his real goal (to strike down Doflamingo) In straw hats, only Luffy and Robin knew what his true intention is. (Sanji also guessed) I don't think they both will mind about it though because they already aiming to defeat Doflamingo before. To be honest, if Law know Luffy better in Punk Hazard, he will know Luffy or probably the whole straw hats can help him to defeat Doflamingo even without alliance. But with his personality, he probably won't say a word about what happen between him and Doflamingo. And I feel like only Luffy and Robin can make Law become more vulnerable or more willing to express his true self.

And here :( Law ready to sacrifice himself to archive his goal just like what Robin did in Eneis Lobby...so I think Robin knew exactly how Law felt here. But Robin's character developed a lot!!! Now she doesn't even think to sacrifice herself and trying to let Law feel more ease. I feel like she's trying to save him out the situation where she was. It's like when Usopp told Robin to trust Luffy q-q but you know they were both stubborn in their own ways...

Chapter 798 ~ 800: Live freely

These two scenes...don't tell me Oda didn't do it on purpose, I really think he's trying to imply Law is going through what Robin did. And Law after 13 years, he is finally living freely. Robin is a little bit lucky than Law, she found strong friends that can rely on and encountered a group of people (revolutionary army) that provide support to her and she can trusted with. That's why she changed so much 2 years later. And I seriously hope Law can also have the support he needed as well :(

Ah - the beginning of seeking "The will of D". He wants to know why Corazon saved him when he said he is a D. And Sengoku said Corazon didn't know anything about D, he saved you just because he loved you. *sob* I can understand why some people ship Law & Corazon because it's just pure love, but I see them more like father & son love just like what Sengoku did to Corazon. I think during Dressrosa -> Wano, Law is trying to ask himself what he really want to do after achieving his previous goal and probably what happened in Zou made him more curious about the D.

Yes this is the end of Dressrosa! It's funny Oda try to slip lawbin similarities even in the same page lol see how Law looked everyone in the banquet and how Robin did the same after (top left panel). Oda what are you planning for both of them!!! >< It's not just them having similar dream, right???

This is the arc that Law & Robin interacted the most. It makes sense because this arc is almost dedicated to Law and mainly focusing on him, so he must interacted with the straw hats a lot. But still I'm surprised how Law and Robin get so much closer in this arc. Because Law isn't really close to any straw hats except Luffy. (maybe he get closer to Sanji and Zoro in Wano, but I still think Robin is the second closet to him by seeing how they interacted) I wish Oda could shown more of their moments because they definitely interacted during Zou -> Wano and when they were preparing the fight in Wano, and all we got is only one scene (although I know it's one of the most important scenes)

Oh yes I was gonna say something about my perspective on other ships *again warning, just my personal opinion and please read this rationally* first of all, I think Cabbage-kun and Robin are so cute T-T I don't really ship them but I just think Cabbage caring about Robin is really nice of him. Especially when he gave his coat to her. second of all, I can also understand why lawlu is so huge because of their polar opposite personality and Law act really cute in front of him haha but I don't ship them because I see them more like best friends. (yes I can see Law is mad behind me saying they are not friends) finally, I noticed there are frobin moments here, like they were wearing couple shirt (actually it said Corrida and Luffy is wearing a tank top with a bull on it too) and one of the SBS was about franky sleeping on Robin's lap something like that. To be honest, when I saw it I also think oo did Oda trying to set them up?? but luffy was sleeping on Rebecca's lap later on too. And I wonder why - if Oda really trying make them as a couple, but he doesn't give them any interactions in the storyline at all? Like most of "romantic moments" was from colorspread (the last one is chapter 987 and after that that they rarely interact), other than that, they mostly interacted as normal crewmates, so I always wonder did Oda changed his mind in Wano... Again, I'm just analyzing the possibility...

I actually finished reading Zou and 1/5 Wano already, I just don't have time to write an analysis T^T I thought Zou might be an arc that I can write a short analysis but while I'm reading it, I actually have lots of thoughts in mind!! So I'll talk about it next post haha Again, thanks for reading it!!! Discussions or comments are always welcome :)

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

More things I think would happen if Jeeves and Wooster were on DS9

Part 1 Part 1.5

It's a bit harder in space than in London for Bertie's relatives and school friends to track him down and beg for favors. Unfortunately, Jeeves’s reputation as a problem-solver has spread around the station, and the problems Bertie's NEW friends bring to him are even more ridiculous.

Week after week: "Help, I got Zanthi fever at the Gratitude Festival and now my fiancée won't speak to me"—"I love a girl from a few star systems over, but on her homeworld unmarried men and women are only allowed to communicate via each other's same-gender parent and her mom hates me"—"Your Uncle Tom wants a rare silver thing but this asshole Ferengi trader won't let him have it" (sometimes his relatives DO visit)

When he doesn’t end up with dubiously legal, stolen, or dangerous alien merchandise smuggled aboard his ship against his will (and also when he does), he keeps managing to stumble coincidentally into the exact combination of words and actions that make up some alien culture's courtship ritual (nobody told him that on Glorgon, pushing somebody into a body of water is considered the first step in a marriage proposal!)

The Gussie/Madeline/Spode love triangle follows him to space, obviously. No matter where he is in the galaxy, fiancé(e)s of the week will come and go, but the Gussie/Madeline/Spode love triangle is a universal constant. There is no galaxy or universe he can escape to where the triangle will not follow.

I feel like this goes without saying, but Gussie is a human scientist stationed on Bajor to study newts native amphibious life forms found in the planet's rivers. He and Bertie still went to school together. Spode is a firebrand Bajoran nationalist politician who had ties to the Circle before their failed coup, but not quite enough for anything to be proved against him.

Bassett Madeline is a Bajoran astronomer who writes poetry on the side and visits the station sometimes to help with research on the wormhole. She’s actually a very qualified scientist, but there’s nothing stopping her from knowing how the stars work AND believing they’re the Prophets’ daisy chain.

Kira really, REALLY wants to like her. She wants to like her so badly. Another highly accomplished religious Bajoran woman is visiting, she should be thrilled! They have so much to talk about! Madeline's fervor toward their shared faith is nothing less than admirable and inspiring and an example to us all, and not at ALL "mawkish" or "a bit much," JULIAN, and no Kira does NOT have a headache, but on second thoughts maybe she should head to the infirmary just in case.

Fortunately, Madeline is usually on the station to work with Jadzia, who regards her mushy tendencies with gentle amusement.

Kira eventually warms to Madeline somewhat when, one day, she (Madeline) visits the station after a fight with Gussie, and Jadzia, taking pity, invites her to play Camelot with her and Kira in the holosuites. Kira has to grit her teeth through the first half, but the three of them end up bonding when something inevitably goes wrong with the safety protocols and they have to fight a real dragon or something. Kira still wouldn't call Madeline her best friend, but she can find it in herself to tolerate the daisy-chain talk with a more bonhomous spirit.

Bertie has no idea any of this is happening, but is just grateful that Jadzia managed to whisk Madeline off to the holosuites before she could try to marry HIM again. He has the Bajoran Rite of Separation memorized by heart and he's running out of bowls.

He also isn't sure what all that was about when Jadzia assured him that she's got this, don't worry about it, you go on and spend some quality time with Jeeves, and then winked at him. Or why this made Jeeves tighten his jaw by the minutest degree and disappear to "supervise repairs," even though Bertie is almost certain there are no repairs left to be done.

It's all a bit rummy, but Jadzia is a dependable sort of cove, and if she says there's nothing to worry about then he trusts there's nothing to worry about. She's a bit like Jeeves in that respect, what? So he shrugs it off and goes to play darts with Julian and Miles instead.

Bertie is obviously a common fixture at the dartboard in Quark's. He also plays tennis with Julian sometimes (Miles being kind of done with tennis after what happened last time). Quark tried to start a betting pool on their games one time, but hit a snag when it turned out that many of the non-human bar customers had trouble telling the competitors apart.

Bertie once sat with Jadzia over a couple drinks as she patiently tried to explain the concept of joined Trill to him (he had been asking about why Sisko calls her "old man"). The discussion ended with Jadzia kindly patting him on the shoulder and inviting him to a game of Dabo.

As it happens, there weren't really any repairs to be done on the ship, but in pretending he was carrying out inspections Jeeves DID discover a hidden device on the warp engine that would have caused everyone on the station to hallucinate their worst enemy's face onto random strangers when the engine was engaged, so the day wasn't a complete wash.

(He kept the device instead of reporting it, naturally. You never know what might come in handy some day. But the plot would have fallen apart anyway, as the aliens who'd planted it suddenly found themselves succumbing to infighting after their first officer received an anonymous message alerting them to the fact that the captain had been planning to short the crew on their pay.)

[moodywyrm]

sighs dreamily,, sevika with a short chubby gf. im rlly self serving here but when is it my turn???

ND SHES SO POSSESSIVE i’m going to combust. like she would be all for you showing off your curves but if anyone even looks at you they’re gone. nd she keeps you on her lap at the last drop, one hand squishing your thighs while she holds her cards in the other bc she just loves having her own personal stress ball,,

looooord and imagine being away for work for the day, coming to visit her at the last drop,, walking in wearing a cute miniskirt and one of her sweaters bc its huge and comfy (have you SEEN her muscles there’s no way her non-work clothes wouldn’t be baggy). and she sees you, she immediately gets up, walks over, and wraps a protective arm round your waist and death glaring anyone who was just glancing your way. sitting you on one of her thighs with her goddamn manspread, kissing your neck as she plays god i need to sit down

ohhhhhh my god. I've been thinking about sevika so much lately, especially bc @sevikasimp has been posting the bartender sevika content that is making me go ahhhHHHHHHHHHHH.

so in the wise words of Emi: Sevika Loves Thick Women. And if your short?? Baby she's in love. She absolutely teases you for being shorter than her, but she loves it. And she is possessive!! Because she knows your gorgeous and she knows Zaun can be scary!! And here you are, her sweet girl, fully capable of holding your own but she wants to protect you!

Thinking soooo much about sitting on her lap while she's playing cards in The Last Drop. You're wearing a miniskirt that she bought you, a short black thing with a laced-up slit + one of her sweaters that she only ever wears inside your apartment + some chunky boots bc Zaun requires the chunky boots. And you stomp stomp stomp into The Last Drop, bee-lining for Sevika at her table in front of the bar.

She saw you the second you walked in, but she has a reputation to maintain so she can't get all mushy and sappy like she always does when she sees you </3. That doesn't mean she won't be touchy! She won't go all mushy, Rottweiler gf, but she will let you cling to her and show her affection if you want to. Because the second you walk up to her, she is hauling you onto her lap and placing on harsh smack on your thigh before groping and soothing the flesh. The feel of you on her lap, the softness of your ass and thighs on her muscled legs, is borderline euphoric.

Sevika keeps you there, propped up on her lap, as she plays and she tries soooo hard not to melt at the way you cuddle into her. You're all snuggled into her neck, one of her arms a sturdy weight around your waist, and you're on the verge of sleep. And who can blame you!! Because she's also kneading at the fat of your tummy, your thigh, wherever her hand can reach without having to fully detach from your waist. And every now and then she whispers lil complements to you and places little kisses on the top of your head. Plus!! I know she takes care to smell good for you. She uses a really suave unisex perfume that smells kinda like the energy of a speak easy? A little smoky? A little boozy sweet? A little masculine, cologne type scent? Do you know what I mean? She smells fucking good is what I'm saying! And She can tell you're completely at ease with her, and she's on cloud nine: winning at cards with a pretty girl on her lap, all for her <3

Anyone who even tries to bother her or talk shit about the way you're clinging to her gets the worst mean mug of their life and, once you're awake enough to go get a drink on your own, gets the shit kicked out of them in the alley next to The Last Drop <3 no one makes her girl feel bad <3 ever <3

[builtbybrokenbells]

Hi t!! I just read Reaching New Heights and I've never liked a fic so fast. Bless that anon for sending the ask and thank you for making it come true in the best way. I have to admit I'm a sucker for soft virginity/first time trope, maybe because it's something I've never had. It's so soft and sweet and smoking hot all at the same time and the epitome of fictional men written by women (I mean this as a compliment and I'd choose fictional men over men in real life any day, duh) it instantly reminds me of the episode on Unwaxed podcast where Emily Morse talked about how some so many portrayal of sex scenes in movies and stuff aren't realistic like women actually need time to properly warm up and it's just not realistic for them to have an orgasm in two minutes in an elevator or something. I mean we can all dream in fictional world, but it's just awesome from time to time to read something that has the proper build up (the part with the kisses rather than just rushing into it....top tier writing) I saw dee reblogs it with the tag "men take notes" and I 🙌🙌🙌 I am on my period and anxious as f^ck because of a task I have for tomorrow but coming cross this piece of art feels like a kiss on the forehead. bless your heart for making a stranger feel so soft, mushy, and happpy that she cries a little....THANK YOU SO MUCH. (I am sorry if this is long and TMI, I'm sorry if this sounds awkward....lqiudghxiy I just really need to say it out loud because it's just soooooo goooooood)

Hello, lovely 🤍 let me just say, your words have kept a smile on my face all day long. I wanted to take a minute to formulate a proper response, because you have no idea how appreciative I am for you!

I have also found myself enjoying the virginity/first time trope, and I tend to believe that it’s because my first time was nothing short of awful (and that’s putting it… lightly) and I have spent my entire life dreaming of fictional men that would treat me better than real life men.

I was so nervous to post it, as well as Picasso, which I posted some time ago, now. It was my way of airing out my desire for someone who treated me well, yet I still recognized that first time fics are very difficult to write well. I also fear that with a request like such, that I cannot capture the readers vision as clear or well as they would like me to.

As I posted it and read some messages and comments, I realized that there’s a lot more people who have had the same types of experiences and feelings about the topic than I originally thought. To hear that this made you feel such a way makes me incredibly happy, and I cannot express my gratitude enough.

As for the details, sometimes I feel like it’s easy to forget the build up in lieu of the main event. Especially when there’s so many fics out there that are hot, and exceptionally well written. I hate to say that I did end up cutting out quite a bit of stuff from the main draft, and now that I read this, it makes me feel as though I should have left it. To know that was the part that stuck out with you makes me incredibly happy, because it stuck out to me, too. (I swear I could write a novel about good foreplay and only that, because that’s how much it means to me.)

Good banter and build up are just as essential as the main event to me while creating a scene, as well as a relationship to the story. In a world where it’s normalized for men to leave women unfulfilled, I think it’s quite important to focus on that more than anything else, especially in these types of fics.

I am so grateful for your kindness, and for everyone else who took time to leave a comment. Messages like this and people like you are the reason I come on here and share my work, and I would not be here without your support. Thank you so much for brightening my day, and I’m so glad that my writing could bring you so much joy.

I hope your task tomorrow goes well, and thank you again for being my shred of happiness for the day 🤍

[nova-lightz]

I'm gonna ramble.

I really love that the drama in Cherry Magic is mostly derived from Adachi's self-esteem issues. I feel like the show itself serves as a good reminder that a lot of our worries about how we are perceived, are mostly from our own heads and don't reflect the reality of what others actually think about ourselves.

It's hard to remember that people genuinely don't know what we're insecure about without saying anything about them in the first place, we just assume they know from the very start; which is what Adachi did plenty of times through out the show. His anxiety is painfully relatable but that's what makes him such an endearing and impactful character.

Kurosawa also did the same, but in his own flavour. Before Kurosawa started talking to Adachi more frequently, he always masked his true emotions as he went about his day getting taken advantage of by higher-ups at Toyokawa and getting unwanted attention from women who only liked him for his looks.

Because of how long Kurosawa has masked himself and how well he hides his true personality (being kind of a goofball and a closet nerd), Kurosawa constantly worries about Adachi thinking that he's not good enough to be worth having as a romantic partner. When Kurosawa's facade of a perfect businessman falls by the wayside, he's extremely ashamed of his mistakes and mentally berates himself for merely being a flawed human who has hobbies.

I know this stuff isn't a really big deal—I'm just a fan who won't shut up about CM—but it truly is comforting to see a show that explores themes that aren't talked a lot about despite how common of a problem it is for people to experience. Insecurity hurts! Constantly walking on eggshells to avoid potentially getting hurt by others for being yourself, is suffocating! The idea of getting getting kicked out of social circles for being different can ruin a person's sense of self-worth!

Cherry Magic commentates on all these things while delivering a heartfelt and funny story about really awkward, gay salarymen. It's so sweet and adorable and makes me all uwu mushy, but also TAT devastated when I think about how deeply ingrained Kurosawa's and Adachi's insecurity issues are that they lasted into their 30s.

Being human is hard, but it is possible to find people who do want to stick with you regardless of how hard you think you are to love. It's possible. I've done it, my favorite fictional characters have done it, and you can do it too. You just gotta put yourself out there, make your existence known, get perceived.

[khazadspoon]

damn it I’m invested and it’s the rawhide discord server’s fault AGAIN. But also my fault. Have some gentle Favor/Wishbone I don’t have any excuses I love the mother and father of the drive.

———

He hasn’t had a wife for years now. And though she lingers in his peripheral vision, a phantom with hands that beckon and eyes that follow his every move, he has started to forget the details. He can’t remember the exact colour of her eyes or the sound of her voice when she’s half asleep. He can remember her favourite flowers, her perfume, but not the taste of her cooking. What little of it he managed to enjoy while they were together.

Her death broke something inside him. It’s only in the last few years he’s discovered it was slowly mending itself.

Gil has his girls in Philadelphia to love and care for. He has their aunt to do the same and to return that familial bond. He has friends, the men who put up with his moods and half-militant attitude towards leadership. And in amongst all that he has Wishbone to keep him afloat.

Wishbone, the steady constant on each and every drive. The one person who is there day in and day out, never straying far or getting himself into trouble. Not too much trouble, anyway. He is a rudder to steer Gil in the right direction, an anchor to hold him steady when things get rough, the heart and soul of the work Gil is trying to do.

No… Gil hasn’t had a wife for years now. But he has Wishbone and that’s almost the same. They argue in the same ways, about the same things, and it always makes him smile to think about. Wishbone has sewed holes in his shirts to apologise for an outburst, and Gil has bought the cook things to do the same. They move around one another without thought, sharing spaces without needing to speak. They’ve talked for hours about anything and nothing and there’s always been an unspoken agreement that they’re riding in the same direction no matter what.

No rings. No vows. Just the trail and the chuck wagon. A hand resting on his shoulder to offer comfort. A cup of coffee before he even knew he wanted one. Soft words of encouragement or consolation.

It hits him, not unlike a bullet, that he does love Wishbone in a way that mirrors how he loved- loves his wife.

Evening comes and he rides into camp, the weight of responsibility like a whole mountain range on his shoulders. He trudges over to the chuck wagon and leans against Wishbone as the man fiddles with pans and utensils.

“How one group of men can get through so much sugar I’ll never know,” Wishbone grumbles under his breath, the words soft like a mother talking about unruly but much loved children. “Mister Favor, I’m gonna need to head into the next town for yet more supplies soon and-”

Gil leans down, nudges the man’s hat up with his nose and presses a slow, soft, lingering kiss to the skin of his forehead. Wishbone stills. He doesn’t jolt or jerk, doesn’t pull back and ask what the hell he’s doing, just… stills and waits.

“Whatever you need, Wish.”

He’s kissed a handful of women since becoming a widow. A couple of men, too, though only Pete knows that as far as he can tell. It seems natural to do this, now, leaning against Wishbone and feeling the steady warmth of him.

Wishbone makes a small, contented sound. “Damn right, whatever I need. You’d not last a day out here without me.”

A laugh bursts from Gil before he can think to stifle it, his breath rushing across Wishbone’s brow. “I think we could do a day, maybe two.”

“And no more than that!”

“No more’n that.”

Wishbone nods, accepts the compliment, and resumes his fiddling. Gil lets himself be directed, doing what really should be Mushy’s job, and lets himself sink into the gentle domesticity.

He misses his wife like a gut wound. He has Wishbone to make it better, though.

[twsthc]

pomefiore headcanons and projections 🔱

⚠️ warnings: self destructive behavior, unsafe binding, restrictive eating disorders

big thank you to @onemunchyboi for helping me with this, basically all of these hcs are pulled directly from him/his art because hes the pomefiore CEO

last updated: apr 6, 2024

VIL SCHOENHEIT !! 👑❤‍🔥

🇩🇪🇺🇸🇮🇳 QUEER POLYAM + GENDERQUEER TRANSFEM (she/her)

APPEARANCE HCS:

i base a lot of vils looks off of marilyn monroe and 1920-1950 trends

slightly pudgy because back then being bigger was the beauty standard

has a few moles here and there teehee

medium length hair she doesn't style much, she just keeps it neat

RANDOM HCS:

when laughing genuinely she snorts and gets really embarrassed about it

random, but i hc vils mom is divorced and one of those "rich evil unwed women," but instead of flirting with the pool boy she flirts with maids (lesbian)

vil doesnt talk about her mom because she's no longer in contact with her

both parents are successful actors that got together for PR and convenience

╰ got mannerisms/habits from her mother, gets advice and doted on by her father

used to dye her hair a lot but realized it wasn't healthy and just touches up the purple tint occasionally now. she's a natural blonde.

he has naturally long nails and prefers clear or slightly translucent nail polish

extremely picky eater. if it looks or smells a certain way, she wont eat it

especially sensitive to mushy pudding-like textures (hates bananas)

VERY EXPRESSIVE. rolls her eyes so far back and scoffs SO aggressively

BPD, HPD, autism. her BPD and HPD are genetic!

her special interests include film and film history, as well as cosmetics history

triggering content below!

has anxiety and self-image issues as well as paranoid delusions. she had an ED her freshman-sophomore years and are still in recovery!

one delusion is that she's actually a villain due to her consistent casting as one

╰ this is why she gets aggressive with neige, fine with reality checks from rook EXCLUSIVELY (unless she really needs it)

ROOK HUNT !! 🏹💘

🇨🇦🇿🇦🇨🇮 PANSEXUAL POLYAM + AGENDER (they/them)

APPEARANCE HCS:

i think theyre extremely racially ambiguous, it's also hard to tell their gender

I DO NOT BELIEVE IN ROOK HUNT FUCKASS BOB. IT'S STYLED RIGHT.

bangs constantly cover their eyebrows so its hard to ever tell their expression

in the summer they get really dark and stay tan in the winter

theatre kid

after vil introduced them to dressing "neater," they've been obsessed with shopping for clothes, perfume, hair products, etc.

despite being a pomefiore rich kid they're still a grimy savanaclaw member at heart who crouches to look at cool bugs once and a while

used to have a LOT of acne, especially on their back and face

had braces their sophomore year, they used to have little buckteeth

because they're a hunter they're scarily good at being super quiet

atp no one notices when they enter a room and it scares the shit out of people

when they're upset they go quiet. absolute master of silent treatment.

can be really competitive (because they have so many siblings)

never lost the tan from their savanaclaw days, still has freckles here and there

absolutely insane preposterous eyebags

triggering content below!

they are bulimic.

EPEL FELMIER !! 🍎🎀

🇹🇷🇺🇸 BISEXUAL TRANS MAN (he/him)

APPEARANCE HCS:

fat + apple body shape and kinda muscular idc

the middle photo below is my faceclaim for him :3 his skin is darker tho

vil teases him for his southern accent which gets worse when hes upset

has/had extremely crooked teeth and has been wearing braces for a while

has a slight stutter and lisp (mostly from the braces)

constantly biting the side of his cheek or tongue on accident

wears those colorful star-shaped pimple patches

likes baggy clothes for when he can't bind, vil only accommodates to his southern grunge style when he's dysphoric, needs comfort, or is feeling homesick

used to chew with his mouth slightly open until vil looked at him with such disgust his body learned how to correct it himself

triggering content below!

extreme body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria

he actively avoids mirrors (i think im so clever for this hc. do you get it... snow white... mirror mirror on the wall...? im so fucking smart...)