#• chapter 2 •

[sansukhcomic]

Sansûkh the Webcomic: Chapter 2: Pages 61-62

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[orangesavannah]

Full Apathy Chapter 2!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 2

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

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Later that day Bucky drove Y/N towards his family home.  He opened the front door and led her inside.  “Ma?” he called out.  “Autumn?”

“We’re in the kitchen!” his mother called back.

Y/N felt nervous.  She hadn’t seen Winnie in years.  They had kept in contact at first, but eventually the letters stopped coming, which she now realized was probably around the time Autumn was born.  She still had them buried in a shoebox in her small pile of things she kept.  Y/N followed Bucky to the kitchen, looking around and seeing how little the house had changed since she last saw it.

“Hey Ma,” Bucky greeted her, kissing her cheek before turning to a girl standing at the sink.  “Hey lovey dove,” he said, hugging her and kissing the top of her head.

“Hey Daddy!” Autumn greeted him, hugging him back.  “We’re making cookies!”

“And eating them faster than they come out of the oven, I’m sure,” he joked.  

Winnie smiled at him then turned to see Y/N, gasping and dropping the spatula in her hand.  “Oh!  Oh it can’t be!” she squealed, running around the kitchen island she was standing at.  Y/N smiled widely at her as she approached.

“Hey Ma,” she greeted her quietly.

“Sweet girl,” Winnie said, cupping her face in her hands.  “Y/N?  Oh!” Winnie hugged her tight, rubbing her back and petting her hair as she held her.  Y/N fought back a rush of emotions that almost made her cry.  Winnie looked so much older than the last time she saw her, but her eyes were still vibrant, her smile still easy, just like Bucky’s.  “You’ve been away too long!” she cried.  

“I know,” Y/N agreed.  “I’m sorry.”

“Daddy, who’s that?”  Autumn whispered loudly to him.

Bucky chuckled and brought her closer to Y/N.  Winnie let go of her so Autumn could see her better.  “Autumn, this is my best friend, Y/N,” Bucky introduced them.  “Y/N, my baby Autumn.”

Y/N smiled widely at her.  She was beautiful, inheriting her father’s eyes and dimpled chin.  Autumn smiled shyly at her.  “Hello, Autumn.  It’s so nice to meet you.  I love your name,” Y/N greeted her.

“Thank you,” Autumn said.  “Oh!  You’re the lady on Daddy’s book!”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Right, yeah, she wrote it,” he explained.

Autumn looked at Y/N excitedly.  “That’s cool!  Are you rich?”

“Autumn!” Winnie chastised her.

Y/N laughed.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “Uh, yeah, kinda rich,” Y/N shrugged.

“Cool,” Autumn sighed.

Winnie had them stay for dinner, talking to Y/N about everything that she had been up to, and giving her updates about everyone in town.  “So what’s your plan now?” she asked.

“Well, honestly I don’t know,” Y/N said.  “Bucky is being very gracious in helping fix my car in exchange for me taking care of Autumn for a while…if that’s okay with you, Autumn?”

“Yeah!” Autumn cheered.  “You can come watch my softball game!”

“I’d love to,” Y/N said.

After dinner and goodbyes Bucky drove Y/N and Autumn back to his home.  Y/N smiled at the small house.  “You bought Mrs. Richards’ house?” she asked.

“Yeah, fixed it up real good, lots of renovations over the last few years,” he said, grabbing her bags he’d taken from the Beetle.  

Y/N followed him and Autumn inside.  The house was well decorated and well lived-in, with little messes strewn about.  She looked around, taking in the house and smiling.  “Alright, lovey dove, time for bed,” Bucky said, gesturing to the stairs while looking at Autumn.

“Aw, Daddy,” Autumn whined.  “I wanna hang out with Y/N.”

“Well, you can hang out with her tomorrow after school,” Bucky said.  “Now say goodnight and git.”

Autumn stuck her tongue out at him, and he did it back to her.  Y/N chuckled as Autumn approached her and hugged her.  “Goodnight, Y/N,” she said, then looked up at her.  “Will you read me one of your stories?”

“Oh, well, uh,” Y/N bit back a smile, Bucky covering his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh.  “Mine are a little too grown up for you.  But I can read you something else.”

“Okay!” Autumn nodded, then turned and hugged Bucky before running upstairs.  “I’ll call you when I’m ready!” she shouted.

“Alright!” Y/N replied.

Bucky sidled up to her, nudging her arm.  “Aw, you don’t wanna read her one of your great stories?” he teased.  

Y/N glared at him.  “Shut up,” she whispered.

Bucky snorted.  “I’m glad she likes you.  I mean, she’s pretty friendly anyways, but she seems to be excited about you watching her for a while.”

“She’s great, Buck,” Y/N smiled at him, nudging his arm back.  “You’re a good dad.”

Bucky looked away.  “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said quietly.  “But thank you.”  They stood silently for a moment before he stooped down and grabbed her bags again.  “Let me show you to your room.”

She followed him up the stairs to the first door on the right.  “This is the guest bedroom,” he said, holding the door open for her.  “Next door is Autumn, and I’m across from her.  Bathroom is at the end of the hall.  It’s a full bath, so you can shower there, and if she’s in there you can always use mine,” he rattled off, setting her bags on the bed.  “I usually take her to school on my way to the shop in the mornings, but school gets out at 3:00 and I’m not off until 5:00, so you can use my car to get her and either come back to the shop or take her around town, my mom’s house, or come back here, whatever you want, but then you’ll need to come pick me up.  Sound good?”

“Yep,” Y/N nodded.  “It’s the least I could do.  You’re being very kind to me, Bucky, thank you.”

“Anything for you, honey,” Bucky smirked.  

“Y/N!  I’M READY!” Autumn screamed from her room.  

Bucky rubbed his face harshly in embarrassment as Y/N laughed.  “Coming!” she called back.  “Duty calls,” she saluted Bucky and walked to Autumn’s room.  

“Alright, what’s the bedtime routine?” Y/N asked once she was standing next to Autumn’s bed.  

“A short story, a song, and a kiss goodnight,” Autumn said, counting on her fingers.

“Yes ma’am,” Y/N said, turning to the bookshelf.  She read Autumn a short story then kneeled by the side of the bed.  “What’s your favorite bedtime song?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  Daddy sings all kinds of songs,” she shrugged.

“Okay, well let me think…do you like Princess songs?” 

“Yeah!” Autumn smiled.

“Who’s your favorite?” Y/N smiled.

“Rapunzel,” she replied, snuggling into her comforter.  “From Tangled.”

“Of course,” Y/N nodded.  “How about, ‘I See the Light’?”

Autumn nodded fervently.  Y/N started to sing the song softly, leaning on her elbows on the bed.  She reached up and ran her fingers through Autumn’s hair as she sang.  Autumn’s eyelids fluttered closed, and by the end of the song she was snoring.  Y/N stood slowly so as not to jostle the bed, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head.  She turned to see Bucky watching her from the doorway.  

He smiled and walked in, passed Y/N and leaned down to kiss Autumn’s cheek before turning back and taking Y/N’s hand and leading her out of the room, closing the door quietly.  He faced her in the hallway.  “For somebody who doesn’t have kids, you’re good with mine,” Bucky smirked.

Y/N scoffed.  “I never said I didn’t want kids.  I just didn’t want them yet.  Though I guess I’m running out of time, aren’t I?”

“Oh yes, ‘cause you’re so old,” Bucky teased.

“So old,” Y/N rolled her eyes.  

He looked her over for a moment before opening his arms and hugging her.  This hug was different from the first one earlier that day.  He held her tenderly, squeezing a little as her head nestled into the crook of his neck and her arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him back.  She had missed her friend.  And if she were being honest with herself, the childhood crush she had buried was broiling in the pit of her stomach.  Bucky kissed the side of her head and pulled away to look at her.  “I missed you,” he said quietly.

“I missed you, too,” Y/N replied.  

Bucky smiled again then pulled away.  “Well, let me know if you need anything.  I’m just, right here,” he pointed at the door beside them.  

“Got it,” Y/N said.  “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

They stepped around each other and walked into the rooms.  Y/N quickly got ready for bed, then sank into the bed with a heavy sigh.  She was happy to be in a good place, with good people, and as small as Woodstock was, it was familiar and comfortable.  She settled into the blankets as she let sleep overtake her.  She was home.

[reixtsu]

Chapter 2: A Small ‘Reunion’

<<< previous next>>> series masterlist

wk: 2.5k

You would forever curse to the Aeons above about those god-forsaken eyes. The perfect blend of cyan and magenta imprinted in his eyes as he raked over your frame. Your breath hitched, all the memories of him flooding your brain like a river. That night, the one night you let loose in all of your life, the night you met the damned gambler.

You bit your lip, putting on your perfectly orchestrated smile on display. "A little chat?" Your hand instinctively went over your son's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "I'm afraid I am busy at the moment, Aventurine."

Aventurine chuckled, one that was low and sultry, only making it harder for you to keep your composure.

"Really now? I promise it won't take much of your time. After all, time is money, and I'm sure we both value that, friend," aeons you forgot how hot his voice was to you, how it seemed to wrap around you and tug at your heart strings. A dangerous man he was.

A curt nod was all you gave him, not bothering to look him directly in his eyes. You couldn't look at him even if he asked, his beauty too dangerous for his own good.

"How's life?"

"You interrupt my work time for a life question?"

Another chuckle. "Of course not. I'm just curious," he glanced down at Hajime, then back at you, his piercing gaze reading your every move. "Life as a Stellaron Hunter must be rough, going here and about."

You scoffed, shooting him a sharp glare. "So you found out, hm?"

"It was my intuition. I remember when we first met you seemed to have an air of dangerous mystery. Your son, or, our son more accurately," He leaned forwards, whispering the last part in your ear before backing away. "Gave me a few helpful hints about your occupation. Thanks for that by the way, Hajime. Have some credits as my thanks."

And just like that, Aventurine handed 10,000 credits in cash to your son like it was nothing, like a simple lolipop you get from a doctor. Hajime's eyes widened, full of joy as his tiny hands gladly accepted his gift. "Thank you so-"

"Throwing money away like it's nothing. How typical of you," with careful and skilled hands, you took the money away from Hajime, hearing him gasp in horror, begging to have the money. Nevertheless you ignored him, passing the money back to Aventurine with a nonchalant shrug.

Aventurine's gloved hands pushed the money back at you, his lips only curving upwards some more. "It's his. I have enough in my pocket."

With a sigh and an eye-roll, you surrendered, passing the money back to your son. You peered at Aventurine, wondering why the hell you were obeying the request of an IPC Stoneheart official when the both of you were technically enemies. If it were anyone else, you would have shoved the money down their throat and walked away like nothing happened. You didn't need money anyways, and you hated people who threw money around like nothing.

Despite everything, you gave Aventurine a calm smile. "Well then, if that is all then we really must be going." You turned to face your son, who was holding your hand tightly. "And you, never run away like that again! You and Silverwolf will get a long lecture after this."

Hajime whined, begging you to not lecture them yet again. Aventurine, ever the charming one, waved you off with that handsome smile of his. "Until next time, y/n." And with that the two of you made your separate ways.

------

Man you really hate that man's face.

Why did Aventurine have to look the way he did? Like some sort of princely chartlan. Why did your heart race at the mere thought of him? Why was his voice so tantalizing? Why were his eyes so mesmerizing-

Okay y/n, focus on your own damn life. You're a Stallaron Hunter. Aventurine is an IPC, the enemy. You couldn't go around showing anyone that you were weak for a... man.

"What's wrong, sweetie? You've been fidgety ever since we left the last planet," Kafka's sultry voice cut your train of thought, causing you to jolt in surprise.

Your eyes scanned her momentarily, taking in her magenta hair being down instead of her usual tied up hair, then looked back into random space. "Nothing. Just wondering the best way to lecture Silverwolf. I swear, I'm never trusting her with my son again."

She laughed, covering her mouth in an elegant way. "Of course you are," her calculating, lazy eyes looked across the room to where Silverwolf was bugging Firefly to play some sort of game with her. "Firefly or Bladie would have been the best candidates to watch over Hajime."

You hummed, your eyes following the scene. "Say, are Firefly and Stelle finally dating?"

"I don't think so."

"Really? Man, they're slow."

Another chuckle erupted the room as both you and Kafka laughed.

“Well Hajime is already in bed, so I should go too. Long day,” you waved off to Kafka, blowing her a kiss as you made your way into your bedroom.

----

Memory 1

The casino was a world unto itself-a haven of chaos and vice where time seemed to blend into one big milkshake. Neon signs flickered and danced against the polish marble walls, advertising extravagant prizes and promising riches to those who were bold-or foolish-enough to try their luck. The scent of cigar smoke linger in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol and the faint aroma of expensive cologne. High stake gamblers leaned over green felt tables, their whispers lost to the symphony of clinking chips and spinning roulette wheels. Everything hummed with energy, one that seeped into your skin and settled within your bones.

You sat at the far end of a bar, a single glass of milk in your hand. Funny because the drink looked absurdly out of place amidst the sea of martinis, whiskeys, and champagne flutes. Despite this, you paid no mind to the occasional glances that were shot your way.

Today Elio's script hadn't called for action yet, so you were biding your time, your expression impassive. The white liquid swirled lazily as you tilted the glass, the coolness of it soothing your warm fingertips.

"Milk in a casino?"

The voice, deep and smooth like molten gold, broke through the peaceful alone time you had. You didn't bother to glance up right away, letting the speaker, whoever he was, to stew in his curiosity a little longer. When you finally lifted your gaze, you were met with striking cyan and magenta eyes framed by blond lashes.

Aventurine.

He leaned casually against the bar, his sharp suit catching the ambient light just enough to highlight the quality of his tailoring. His eyes, framed by the slight shadow of his lashes, gleamed with mischief and calculation.

"You have a problem with it?" you asked, your tone flat as the marble countertop beneath your fingers.

He chuckled, leaning an elbow on the bar as he studied you with those charming eyes of his. For some reason you couldn't take your eyes away from them. "Not at all. It's refreshing, really. Most people here are drowning themselves in overpriced scotch, trying to look important or trying to drown in their problems. You? You're making a statement.'

"I just don't drink," you said simply, taking another long sip of your milk.

He grinned, his sharp teeth catching the light. "Fair enough. But you stick out, you know. Hard not to notice someone drinking milk in a place like this."

You raised an eyebrow, licking the milk off your lips and meeting his gaze head-on. "And you decided to comment because...?"

"Because you caught my eye," he admitted without hesitation, his grin widening. You didn't miss the fact that his gaze flickered onto your lips then back to you eyes. "You don't seem like the type to hang around a casino for fun. I'm curious, what brings you here?"

He wasn't wrong about the fact that you usually avoided places like casinos. Quickly keeping in mind that this man's observation skills were next level, you shrugged, your expression unreadable. "The ambiance."

He barked out a laugh, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons. "Ambiance, huh? Well, if you're not here for the drinks, then how about the games?" He gestured toward the poker tables behind you, where players sat with their faces carefully neutral, their chips piled high. "What do you say? Care to join me in a hand or two?"

You studied him for a moment, your gaze flickering over the way he carried himself-confident, but not arrogant. Calculating, but not cold. There was a spark in his eyes, a gleam that suggested he lived for the thrill of the gamble. In all honesty, it was kind of hot to say the least. You could feel his curiosity radiating off him, matching your own guarded intrigue.

"Sure," you said finally, setting your glass down and stood up. "Why not?'

Aventurine led you to a table with the air of someone who owned the place. To be honest, you wouldn't be surprised if he did. As you took your seat, the dealer shuffled the cards with practiced precision, and Aventurine gestured for the game to begin.

From the first hand it became clear that Aventurine was no amateur. His moves were precise, his bets calculated, and his handsome poker face flawless. You tried your hardest to not look at him too much, your thoughts would stray too much if you did. As the game progressed, you saw the faintest flicker in his expression-curiosity, amusement, and something that almost resembles excitement.

Your strategy-or rather lack thereof-was throwing him off. While he made carefully calculated moves, you played with an almost reckless abandon, tossing in chips at seemingly random moments and going all-in when it made no logical sense. Yet, somehow, you managed to hold your own, winning just enough to keep him on edge.

"You're either the luckiest person I've ever met who is luckier than me, or you've got some kind of twisted strategy that I can't figure out," he said, leaning back in his chair and studying you with a mix of admiration and suspicion.

You smirked faintly, your eyes glinting in rare amusement. "Maybe I just like keeping you guessing, pretty boy."

He laughed again, a genuine, a deep sound that made your heart flutter. "Fair enough. But don't think for a second that I'm going to let you win this."

The game continued, the pile of chips in front of your ebbing and flowing like the low tide. Aventurine's eyes never left you, his curiosity growing with every unpredictable move you made. As the game wore on, you found yourself equally intrigued by him-his sharp wit, his easy charm.

"I'll tell you what," he said, breaking the moment, "why don't we raise the stakes? Winner buys the loser a drink-milk for you, of course."

"Trying to get me drunk on calcium?" you asked dryly, earning another laugh from him.

"Something like that," he said, his grin widening, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Or maybe I want an excuse to keep you around a little longer, friend."

The word lingered in the air, teasing yet intimate, and it sent a shiver trailing down your spine. You didn't reply, couldn't-the rapid pounding of your heart robbed you of the ability to even speak a word. But your lips curved into a faint smile, betraying you. His words, his tone of voice, it had struck something within you, something you were too embarrassed to put into words. After gathering your resolve, you nodded firmly, meeting his gaze with a serious expression that barely masked the anticipation in your eyes. How were we going to explain this to Kafka?

"I'll entertain you a little more then," you said, your voice quieter than intended, "since you're willing to have me."

Aventurine's grin softened ever so slightly, the predatory edge in his eyes giving way to something deeper. Much deeper. Something unspoken yet undeniable. His luck may have earned him glory in the past, but tonight, it brought him you-someone who felt entirely out of reach yet impossibly close. For the first time in a while, the gambler found himself playing a game with stakes he couldn't afford to lose, or else his heart couldn't take it.

And you? You couldn't even deny the pull you felt toward him. It was weird for you to feel this connected to someone. There was a magnetism about him, something almost as dangerous as you, something intoxicating. The way he leaned just a little too close for your comfort when  he spoke, his casual yet deliberate touches as if testing your boundaries, the smooth cadence of his voice-it all wrapped around you like a siren's song, pulling you into the depths of the sea.

Hours passed like seconds in his lavish company. The laugher, the constant teasing, the stolen glances-they blurred together into something hazy and electric, filled with undeniable desire. It was only after the world had melted away-the noise of the casino replaced by a quieter, more intimate atmosphere-that you realized exactly where spending time with Aventurine led you.

A lashive private room, dimly lit, the scent of expensive liquor and faint cologne lingering in the air. You were pushed against the plush velvet of a couch, its surface cool against your heated skin. Aventurine loomed over you, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. His hand rested beside your head, his knuckles brushing against your hair, keeping in mind how soft it was, while his other hand ghosted along the curve of your waist, causing your breath to hitch. This man was testing just how far he could go before you stopped him.

His eyes searched yours, piercing and hungry, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between the two of you changed, crackling with an unspoken desire. You felt the weight of his gaze as it traveled over you, staring from your eyes, down to your chest and waist, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raw, roughened by something primal that made your walls clench, your heat only getting wetter.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek, causing you to shiver in pleasure. Despite his words, the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn't hoping for you to stop.

And you felt the same way. You fell too far down the rabbit hole to stop now. Instead, your fingers found their way to his collar, tugging him down just enough for your lips to brush against his in a fleeting, electric moment that sent your heart racing for more. The gamble was all yours now, and you were going all in.

Author’s notes: I was a little too jumbled in the head as I wrote this chapter. I had a full ass cake then proceeded to just write until my hand scraped like crazy.

Taglist: @godoffuckedupcats, @sweetistic

[tagintagout-au]

🎀: HEAD HOUSEMAIDEN!!! AGATHE!!!!

🧩: Mirabelle!!

🎲: Mirabelle? MIRABELLE!!

🎲: Change, are you okay!?

🎀: I- I'm fine now, but-

🎀: But, oh, are you guys okay??

🎀: I- The House, and when- The Star--

🎲: Whoa, whoa, okay, calm down. Take a moment to breathe!

🎲: You... you did it, you saved us! You did it!!

🧩: I told you my blessing was well-chosen!!!! A true hero NEVER makes mistakes!!

🎲: Bold of you to assume I'd ever doubt Mirabelle, kid.

🎲: But, you... all of you...

🎲: You all saved the House, and all of Vaugarde! We owe you a lot.

🔨: Wahh!?

🪨: O-oh, we, uh--

🔷️: Don't worry about it. Just another day saving the whole country, you know how it is.

⭐️: Pfft.

🧩: ...Hey, Mirabelle!

🧩: You're fine! You got it!

🧩: ...Even if I was s'posed to do that, I'm! Glad someone did it when I.. when the Star got to us.

(...You did it in their place.)

🎀: ...Ah, uh... just so you know they all... everyone thinks that the Change Goddess blessed me...

🧩: Wait, they-

🎲: Why would they think that?

🎀: Oh, they just all started saying it, and... I.. I didn't want them to feel hopeless...

🎲: That's kind of silly of them.

🎲: I thought we all knew the Change Goddess is a bit of a lazy deity!

🔷️: ...Is that not sacreligious to say?

🎲: Eh, she doesn't mind it.

(You stay silent. Don't ruin this moment!!)

🎲: Well, either way.

🎲: Soon, you'll all be able to go back to your normal lives! To go home.

🎲: If there's anything we can do to thank you, let us know, alright?

[shallandavar613]

Chapter 2 is now up! Sorry for the long wait...

Thanks again to @i-may-be-an-emu for betaing!

Here’s the first chapter of the SFTH dnd fic that I’ve been working on lately…it takes place after the second stream, so major spoilers for everything that happens in both sessions. Huge thanks to @i-may-be-an-emu for beta-ing the fic!

[blacktabbygames]

But it's too late now, isn't it? Some things, when honked, can never be unhonked. Everything goes dark, and you're pied.

[laikascomet]

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[manga-meow]

[horrortalecomic]

Easy come, easy go. Gotta try one last experiment before sticking to regular comic pages.

Commissions are closed. Read the rules here

The SAS pin is available! Buy it on Etsy

Navigate the comic on DA here.

New? View the first page here.

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[out-of-the-blue-comic]

FIRST || PREV. || Ch. 2 INDEX || NEXT

Pages 17-20

Through his emotional strife, Nicky seems to have accidentally merged with something strange and--hey, who is this new hedgehog?!

FINALLY got this finished! Took me a bit due to me traveling a lot these past few weeks, but I shredded through finishing these pages up! This is my Christmas present to you guys. Hope you enjoy and happy holidays!

Join the Official Server || Become a Beta Reader. ���❤️

[writeyouin]

D-16 (Megatron) x Reader – The Creature From Another World - Part 2 of 2

Chapter 2 – Megatron or D-16?

A/N – Finally, it’s ready. Here’s hoping this holds up to part one.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Megatron held you at your request. He didn’t know why you wanted to be up, only that you did and he was only too happy to comply, and that he had to hold onto that feeling. You were the only thing he had left that brought him any shred of happiness. Everything else was a toxic poison coursing through his body, leaving only hate and anger in its wake.

You stood in Megatron’s palm, trying to see the D-16 you knew before in his optics. They were a violent red, leaving no trace of the warm amber glow his eyes used to have. Moreover, Megatron used to laugh and relay stories back and forth to you or Orion. Now, he mostly frowned.

You reached out to touch him, your hand falling to his chassis where a brand new Megatronus insignia had been branded onto him, covering over the one Sentinel had burned him with. Megatron had claimed the symbol, owning it for the new Decepticon army.

At your touch, Megatron vented a soft gust of warm air, wondering what you were thinking as you pawed at his insignia. He wished that you could see it as the symbol of a new age as it was supposed to be, but he guessed that you would always remember the one that Sentinel had marred him with. He would remember too. He had to.

After disappearing on his life-changing quest with Orion, D-16 had worried about you, but he figured that the other miners would take care of you. In that, he was only half-right.

When the miners were told that he and Orion had died from their injuries in the race, they panicked, scared that they wouldn’t be able to help you leave the planet since they were the lower class. So, one of them had taken you to Sentinel, explaining what you were and coming up with a cover story for how you had gotten on Cybertron.

Sentinel, having guessed that you were once a Quintesson prisoner, pretended to believe the story, and reassured the mech that he would see to it that his top-bots found you a way home.

After that, he kept you prisoner in a gilded cage, his pet now since you wouldn’t give him any information on the missing miners' whereabouts.

When D-16 and the High Guard were captured, you met D-16’s eyes and he became even more furious, wondering how you had gotten there and what Sentinel had done to you.

Before that day, you already admired D-16, but your admiration turned to complete adoration and contrarily, fear as he kept standing up in the face of adversity. He wouldn’t be kept down, no matter what they did to him. You cried to see your friend hurt, but you didn’t scream or do anything further to draw attention to yourself, afraid that if you did, Sentinel would torture D-16 further.

Now, you were here, on one of Cybertron’s moons in a base that the Decepticons had constructed very quickly, being efficient builders, and the war with Cybertron was about to begin.

Megatron lifted your hand with his free servo, gently rolling his thumb pad over it. He wanted you to see him, not the person he used to be behind the insignia. You stared up at him.

“Talk to me,” He told you, gently.

You took a minute to think about what you needed to say.

You understood why the Decepticons had to go to war. It was like Megatron said; when he tried to talk to them, they had clung to the old ways and a new leader had arisen to take Sentinel’s place. Another false Prime – Optimus Prime. He had attacked Megatron and the high guard and then banished them from their home under the threat that they would not be left for long.

Still, knowing why the war was happening wasn’t enough. You needed more than that. You glanced outside the windows of the command centre, seeing the High Guard working ceaselessly.

One more look to Megatron and you knew what you had to say.

“Is this the only way? To fight? To kill?”

Megatron was saddened to see you so upset, but he clung to his resolve, no mercy left within him.

“Yes. There is no room for a peaceful resolve unless those on the surface join our ranks.”

“Are you scared?” You asked in a very small voice, indicating that you were terrified for him.

Megatron stroked your cheek, “No, and nor should you be. I will keep you safe.” And he would. He would do everything in his power to protect you from harm, including lying to you to save you from anything that might hurt your feelings. You were his precious pet and Megatron always took care of what belonged to him.

Some of the High Guard wondered about you, a human among their ranks. They would have tried to research you, had there been any information about something so alien. But without their records from Iacon, they had little ability to look into your kind and simply decided to leave Megatron with his pet. Later in the war, they might have rebelled against you, but after Megatron’s victory against Sentinel, they trusted their new leader. It wasn’t yet time for schisms, underhanded plots for mutiny, or general scheming; those would come much, much later.

As it was, Shockwave was responsible for providing you with a home, and the process didn’t take him long. It was less of a room built for you, and more like furniture your size based on your descriptions that had been put into Megatron’s hab-suite.

When Megatron took you to see it, he enjoyed the way your expression lit up. He had almost reacted the same when he saw that he had his own room for the very first time in his life. Yet, he hadn’t been able to find enough joy in his situation. So, he had a room that he didn’t have to share with a few dozen miners. What did that matter when a war was brewing?

But holding you… Seeing you happy? That was worth something.

“Is this-” Megatron almost said to your liking, but decided instead to focus on functionality, “Is this adequate?”

You hopped off his palm and onto the desk that held just about everything you needed, which was a relief since you had lost most of the items in your pack at the Battle of Iacon. Trailing your hand gently over a bed, very robotic in design, but comfortable and made from repurposed cleaning cloths, you smiled.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Megatron ran a finger down your cheek, “No need to thank me.” He watched you as you moved things about, perfecting everything that you needed, and then later he watched you recharge. How perfect it was, giving you exactly what you needed. He would make you dependent on him; you would never need anyone else ever again. He would make you love him. After losing everything, he needed that much.

“Excuse me, Shockwave?” You said, feeling small. By now, you usually felt confident around Cybertronians, but you found Shockwave and some of the High Guard unnerving.

The Cyclops-Bot stared at you, saying nothing, and generally making you feel more uncomfortable.

“Um, Megatron told me to come to you if I need anything…?”

Shockwave didn’t know why you were saying it like it was a question. You were either told to come to him or you weren’t. Life had no place for statistical fallacy.

Seeing as he didn’t reply, you pulled your pack off your back, opening it for him to see the contents as you withdrew them.

“Each of these dehydrated cubes is a meal. I need to consume two or three a day,” You explained. “As you can see, I’m running low, and even if I wasn’t, this isn’t the best state for my food to be in. I need food. Real, fresh food, or- Or I’m going to die.”

Shockwave didn’t seem alarmed by the statement. He didn’t seem to feel anything. Instead, he glanced at your dwindling supplies, noting exactly how long you could survive. He didn’t understand much about your fuel, though he thought it inefficient as he scanned the contents, finding many perishable components, had they not been dehydrated. 

Finally, after a long and stressful silence in which he examined both your pack and you, he relented. “I shall take care of it.”

You were so happy that you didn’t think to ask about the details of Shockwave’s plan. Instead, you smiled and bounced on the balls of your feet, “Thank you, Shockwave.”

Shockwave watched you walk away. He generally didn’t understand the concept of pets, but you were cute enough, he supposed.

Turning back to his newly set up data console, Shockwave began researching the nearest planets that were home to organic species. Seeing how small you were, he believed that organics would be easy enough to subjugate. With that in mind, he began drafting the first invasion plans. Not only would the Decepticons take the fuel you needed but they would also strip the planet of all its valuable resources, giving the Decepticons a technological edge over the Autobots. Later, Megatron would tell you that the Decepticons had made trade deals with several organic planets, never revealing that you were the starting cause behind his slave empire, and you would be spoiled with lavish gifts, ignorant of their origin.

Starscream stared at your sleeping form and then back to Megatron.

“I can’t look after this thing,” He argued.

Though Megatron had bested Starscream once, he hadn’t yet grown to fear his master and as such, was testing his limits.

“You can and you will,” Megatron ordered.

There were arguably better candidates to care for you, especially Soundwave who was used to smaller beings from playing host to some Cassettes. But this wasn’t a question of who you got along with or who would be best suited to watch over you. It was a test of allegiance. Besides, the more bots that Megatron kept on rotation to ‘pet-sit’ you, the more would know how to care for you when he was away.

Megatron needed to see you taken care of, even if he didn’t like leaving you with others, especially if he thought of them touching you. He shouldn’t care this much, but the last person he had entrusted with you had been the very one to betray him. He didn’t want to think of you trusting anyone like that traitor Orion… Optimus. He didn’t want any kind of bond like that in his life again, not for himself or you.

Standing his ground while Starscream prattled on about being the Commander of the High Guard, Megatron snarled. He pointed his cannon at Starscream which was enough to make the weaker mech backtrack, begging for his life.

“You will do as I say.”

Starscream nodded, holding his hands out in surrender, “Yes, of course. Your pet will be well cared for, Megatron.”

“That’s Lord Megatron to you.”

“Of- Of course. Lord Megatron,” Starscream bowed, humiliation coursing through him; it was a feeling that would one day transform into loathing. Megatron left his subordinate, satisfied with how easy it was to subjugate another to his will. He wondered how you would look bowing to him, then turned his mind against such thoughts. He didn’t want to frighten you into worshipping him; he would become someone worthy of your adoration.

You mumbled D-16’s name, waking from a deep sleep. Had you been more alert, you might have thought about how worrying it was that you had come to rely on Megatron so quickly or that you had called him by his old name and that he was no longer that bot you met just a short while ago.

Instead, your thoughts were disturbed by Starscream throwing you some new clothes that Shockwave had acquired from another planet. They were the vestments of the Royal Family until Megatron had ordered their deaths; now the clothes were yours, and far superior in quality than your previous garments. 

“Put those on,” He ordered, not caring whether you did or not.

You blinked owlishly at Starscream, having never been left alone with him before.

“Where’s Megatron?” You asked, despite being somewhat used to his leaving regularly to attend meetings, start trade deals with other planets, or draft new battle strategies.

Starscream rolled his optics, “What a clingy pet. Can’t you be away from Megatron for a few kliks before whining?”

You scowled at the mech, “I’m not a pet.”

“And I’m not a pet-sitter, but here we are,” Starscream griped.

You shook your head and got to work tinkering with some little projects you had started. During the Battle of Iacon, most of the items had been damaged when you fell on your pack. Fortunately, having worked on the Translator for so long, you weren’t bad at mechanics now, though a lot of your tinkering was mostly experimentation. So, rather than waste any time conversing with the bot who treated you like an unwanted mutt, you continued your work on your new shower unit, since your collapsable service station needed some repairs in that department and regrettably, you were starting to smell.

When Megatron returned he was injured, having lost to Optimus Prime for the second time. The loss enraged him, but it didn’t worry him. Optimus may have had the power of the Primes, but Megatron learned a lot from that battle, and in the end, he was certain that his strategy and cunning would win over Prime’s strength.

Besides, it hadn’t been a total loss. The other Decepticons had managed to spread their message through Iacon, and there were already a handful of bots who had returned to the Luna base with Megatron. With the new recruits all ready for an uprising, Megatron was preparing to send some of them back undercover, so they could further spread the message of the Decepticon cause.

Before entering his hab-suite, Megatron straightened up, hiding most of the damage behind bravado, despite the energon that leaked from his side. There could be no signs of weakness.

He expected to see you in his hab-suite, but you weren’t there. So, Starscream had taken you elsewhere. Megatron was about to begin repairing himself when he heard you cry out. It was faint, and more of a shout than a scream, but it sent him spiralling all the same.

He ran to find you, following the sound of your voice.

“GET OFF,” You shouted.

Megatron ran faster.

“STOP SQUIRMING!” Starscream yelled back.

Megatron burst into the wash racks, finding you soaked in Starscream’s grip, the water washing over both of you. Starscream was tugging at your old clothes, partially victorious as the seams ripped, uncovering your arm and part of your chest. You gritted your teeth and slapped at his hand.

Seeing all of this, Megatron gritted his dentae and smashed into Starscream, being careful to grab his arm and pull you from his grasp.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Starscream demanded.

Megatron held you against his chassis possessively, “When (Y/N) says stop, you stop. Their commands are my commands. Now, I demand to know what you were doing to my pet!”

You stared up at Megatron, shocked that he would call you such a thing. He knew what you were now, so why would he treat you like an animal? You didn’t like it.

“I’m not a pet,” You murmured, but neither mech seemed to hear you, glaring at one another in a silent power struggle.

Losing his nerve, Starscream bowed his head.

“I was merely washing your precious pet,” He sneered. “It stank.”

“Not a pet,” You repeated, but your words fell on deaf ears.

Starscream got up from the floor and sauntered out of the wash racks. Megatron’s optics tracked him, all the while a seed of hatred forming for his Second in Command. When Starscream was out of sight, Megatron held you up for inspection. You had your arms crossed to protect your chest, and you were staring angrily down at the floor. The water made the remains of your outfit cling to you, making you feel even smaller and more vulnerable.

Honestly, Megatron had little right to be so furious at Starscream. He too didn’t understand the significance of your clothing, only that the coverings were important to you.

“Are you okay, pet?” He said, gently stroking your cheek.

You pushed his hand away, “I’M NOT YOUR PET!”

Megatron stared at you, open-mouthed. You’d never yelled at him before.

“Do you get that?” You asked, brow furrowing. “You used to, but it’s like you’ve forgotten. I’m a person, just like you. Do you understand?”

Megatron thought back to the person he had been, comparing it to who he was now, and who he wanted to be in the future. You wanted D-16 back, but he wasn’t that anymore. Yet… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be D-16 around you, just a little bit.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I never meant to imply-” He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

For the moment, it seemed that D-16 was back, and things were just like they had always been. You were about to say something equally sentimental, until you saw the trickle of energon, washing down the drain.

“You’re hurt!”

Megatron shook his helm, “It’s nothing.”

“No,” You cried out. “It’s not nothing!”

“I’ll patch it up in our room. You can take care of yourself there too.”

You were staring at him. Megatron couldn’t help smiling a little at your concern. As promised, he had patched himself up with a welding iron. It had been painful, but he hadn’t shown any signs of it.

You meanwhile, were in your new clothes, having sorted yourself out and dried off.

Megatron stood from his chair, leaving the tools he had used for self-repair on the desk.

He scooped you up, holding you to his face, “I’m alright. I promise.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe him. Megatron chuckled, supposing that you couldn’t believe it since such an injury would have been fatal to your kind. Yet, he was wrong in trying to guess your thoughts. Physically, you knew Megatron would recover easily, but to recover psychologically? You wondered if he ever would.

Maybe it was because of everything he had gone through before you met, being a slave to a corrupt system, or maybe it was because of Orion’s death, but despite his apology earlier, you couldn’t help seeing the difference between D-16 and Megatron.

Still, he hadn’t abandoned you, and you wouldn’t abandon him. Megatron was going through something traumatic, and as he said, the war was inevitable. It would be hard on anybody, and you wanted to help him through it.

You glanced down to his welded side which he would undoubtedly buff out later to make it look as if nothing ever happened.

“Does it still hurt?”

Megatron couldn’t help adoring the soft melancholy lilt of your voice; the concern that was all for him.  

He tilted your chin up so you were looking into his eyes instead of at his failure, “It hurts less when you’re here.”

Your eyes flicked towards Megatron’s lips and you felt your cheeks start to burn. Lately, you had begun imagining things. You wanted to be closer to Megatron, to share some intimate moments with him, but that was impossible; you two weren’t the same.

Seeing your flushed skin and your darting eyes, Megatron smiled, looking the closest to being D-16 that he had in a while. You were so easy to read.

Perhaps it was time to show you the little trick he had been practising; it would leech him of his energy but he was certain that it would be worth it.

Megatron lowered you to his desk.

“Close your eyes,” He requested.

Although you had a lot on your mind, you did as he asked; at that moment, you knew you would have likely done anything for him.

Megatron mass displaced so he was closer to your size. It was difficult to become so small, but he managed to shrink down to around nine feet. Originally, mass displacement was taught to working-class Cybertronians so they could shrink down and enter the Underground to make repairs. Everyone was told that it was more energy-effective than using mini-bots, but the truth was that mini-bots were kept as slaves, being seen as even lesser than the worker-bots; they were hardly worth keeping online, and nobody in the Senate wanted to risk giving them repair tools for larger jobs in case they started a rebellion.

Now, Megatron had also learned mass displacement, for you.

He placed a servo to the small of your back, giddy when you opened your eyes in shock. He traced down your jawline with his other hand, lightly thumbing over your chin. How perfectly you fit against him now.

Dipping down, he pressed his lips to yours. Metal against flesh; two different worlds colliding.

You gave yourself over to him.

Little was right in your life since you were taken by the Quintessons, but this moment was perfect… Or it would be if you could fight the niggling in your mind that warned you all was not right with the Decepticons. Megatron’s servo bunched in your hair. You moaned against him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You could ignore those thoughts. You had to. Needed to. What else could you do when you had foolishly let yourself fall in love?

As Megatron’s paramour, you were given more freedom as Decepticon successes rose. Or rather, you were given the fragile illusion of more freedom. You were taken to the few organic planets that Megatron had made ‘trade deals’ with thus far. The threat of their destruction kept the people in line, and you were treated with all the respect of a visiting dignitary. If you tried, you would have seen the terror in the faces of those conquered, but with Megatron distracting you as if you were on a date, you chose the easy path. It was easy to run from suffering when you didn’t want to believe in it.

You were given a communicator which Megatron told you had been built for you, but it had actually been ripped from a now deceased Autobot’s helm. You were provided anything you needed, and more beyond that. However, all of it ceased to matter on the day you saw Orion Pax, alive and well.

Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime had received word that Megatron had conquered a nearby planet and enslaved its people. Fully believing that you had perished in the Battle of Iacon, the Autobot leader vowed to free the planet your name, knowing that it’s what you would have wanted for your organic kin.

That was when you both saw each other, Optimus lowering his blaster and you standing atop Megatron’s shoulder.

“Orion,” You breathed his name, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, yet Megatron heard; how could he not when you were standing right next to his audials?

Megatron glowered at Optimus, feeling extra possessive of you since the Prime had stolen everything from him and banished him from his home. He wouldn’t be allowed to take you too.

Megatron grabbed you roughly, partially transforming his chest cavity and shoving you inside. His pet, his lover, his possession, his captive; you were his! Optimus glared at Megatron. Keeping you captive was not an option, he would not allow it. Pointing at his ex-friend, Optimus gave the command, “AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT!”

Megatron shook with rage, fear, sadness, hatred.

He held your lifeless body in his cupped servos. Granted, Optimus Prime had held back in the fight, but his damned Autobots hadn’t, and now you were gone.

You were the last thing Megatron had and you too had been ripped away from him.

That was it then. No more mercy, no more holding back. No more attachments.

All Autobots would be scrapped, and all the worthless organics of the universe would be destroyed or enslaved. Megatron refused to ever get close to an organic ever again. None would ever make up for you and he would not risk opening his spark to another being.

Ha, that was a joke. He couldn’t offer his spark to anyone anyway. It had been snuffed out. He was hollow. Just a shell for the seething rage to fill.

He was Megatron, and he didn’t need anybody.

He left your body to burn in the ashes of the organic planet, but Optimus picked you up, determined to give you a proper burial. To the Prime’s surprise, he saw you take in a tiny breath of air. You weren’t dead, but you would be if he didn’t get you away from the dying world. You needed air, you needed a doctor, you needed freedom.

[sansukhcomic]

Sansûkh the Webcomic: Chapter 2: Pages 57-58

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[mdzs-mangatranslation]

CHAPTER 2 ✨

Bato ◦ Mangadex ◦ Download .CBZ ◦ Chapter index

And here is the second chapter. The next chapter will be released at the end of October. Translations will follow soon after.

Feel free to join the Discord server, where I will be storing the chapters as well.

Buy the original Japanese releases at cmoa.jp.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of the other priestesses, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

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[tagintagout-au]

(Walking into the spacious room, you see Darkness spread onto the walls, an infection consuming the House from the inside.)

(On the opposite side of the room, stands a lone figure, brightly cutting through.)

(Their cloak flows gently with a wind that isn't there.)

🔷️: ...

⭐️: ...

🪨: ...

🔨: ...

🎀: ...

(...)

✨️: ...Saviors of Vaugarde.

✨️: I have been waiting for so long for your arrival.

✨️: One year.

✨️: Of hardship, of fighting, of a race against time. Against the Universe's will.

✨️: One year...

✨️: Oh, dear saviors...

✨️: I... I...!

✨️: I was just SOOOOOO bored!

(What.)

✨️: Honestly, guys, what took you so long? It's rude to keep your mortal enemy waiting, you know~

(What???)

✨️: Now, now. Don't be so surprised! Even the harbinger of your doom is allowed to want some fun from time to time!

✨️: Let me introduce myself properly, hm? None of that silly "Star" business!

✨️: You can call me the Antagonist! "Tag" for short! Isn't it such a cute nickname? It's perfect!

⭐️: ...Can we, uh, just-

✨️: No no no no no, stardust, you don't get to interrupt me! I've been waiting here for so long, the least you can do is let me talk my heart out a little~

⭐️: Wh- no!

⭐️: I'm not going to let you just... just keep talking, you attacked this country, you've been hurting so many people-

✨️: So rude, stardust! Honestly, I'd expect better from the valiant hero of Vaugarde!

✨️: Buuuuut, if you're so desperate to fight me, then sure!~

✨️: I do have one last question, though.

✨️: Housemaiden.

(..?)

✨️: Do you recognize me?

🎀: ..Huh? Recognize you? What-

✨️: No. No, you don't.

✨️: ...I guess it makes sense.

✨️: Alright then! Let's all fight like a wonderful little family~

✨️: And let's see which actor plays their role best!