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stoneagedevil · 5 months ago

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Reunion (I’m Not in Love Pt. 2) | Alastor x f!Reader

CW/TW: suicide, gore, death, murder, predatory behavior, blood, initial unrequited feelings, insecurities involving looks.

-♥️-

It is only when you lose everything, that you have the power to do anything. After all, what are the consequences?

There is nothing left.

There is only you. Head throbbing after a bullet went through it and a subsequent smack to…pavement?

There is only you filled with grief from an unrequited love you’d sunk over half of your lifespan into and a world you can’t quite understand.

There is only…

You.

Until you heard the screams. Cautiously peeking around the corner of the alleyway you landed in, you witnessed the abhorrent atrocities committed by beings you couldn’t quite comprehend. They were inhuman and inhumane.

You were inhuman and inhumane, taking notice finally of just how sensitive and high up your ears suddenly were. Perhaps your face was thoroughly scrambled by the bullet and you didn’t die? Impossible. But it would just be your luck wouldn’t it? Surviving a point blank shot to the face with a large caliber. You reached your hands- claws- claws?!

Sidetracked, your eyes gaped at the change in your hands. They were pitch black, fading into your skin tone that had lost its vibrancy the farther you trailed up your arms. Surely it was a malfunction or flaw within the rifle that caused an abundance of gun powder to color your limbs black? But…that didn’t explain the claws in place of your dull fingernails. You continued to reach towards the top of your head, startled by your new fuzzy appendages.

They were your ears.

Quickly darting out of the alleyway, you faced yourself in the reflection of a nearby storefront window. Only, this wasn’t the Y/N you talked to before ending your life.

This was…this was something entirely different. Someone entirely different.

But sure as the days are long, it was you. Your ears reminiscent of a deer, and twisting your spine and neck to look behind you, you were adorned with the tail of one too.

“What on Earth-“ You cut yourself off. Earth? No. This couldn’t be. You most certainly died. And if you were dead, and yet alive, that had to mean one thing.

You were in the beginning stages of your afterlife, which in turn meant one thing or another: you were either in Heaven or Hell. Taking into account the potential love rivals you murdered and your demonic appearance, you could only assume the latter option were true.

Hell. You were in Hell.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out all by yourself? It’s a dangerous world out here, little girl.” A gravelly voice brought you out of your daze. You whipped your head around to face the source of the slimy words. It was another demon, wolf-like in appearance with a smile that looked as if he would eat a grandmother.

“I would stay away.” Is all you said. Truly, you were a deer in the headlights. What did he mean by turf war? And how were you going to prevent yourself from becoming Little Red?

“And if I don’t stay away?” He challenged, slimy tongue running over rows of sharp teeth, inching closer as if to tease you. As if he preferred to play with his food.

“Then I’ll have no choice but to kill you. I’d rather not, if I can help it.” You replied. Maybe you could trick him into thinking you were dangerous, but given your new form, you doubted it. A prey animal. How unfortunate when your newest enemy was a wolf.

He barked out a hearty laugh, thoroughly amused by your polite warning, but continued to close in on you.

You felt something underneath the surface of your soft flesh. A mix of anger, of the warmth of a light, of the cold of a shadow, of the bubbling of champagne, all fueled by the sheer audacity of a man who couldn’t let you get your bearings in such a strange place. Couldn’t you ever get a fucking break?!

It happened suddenly, the cracking of pavement sounding beneath your hooves, vines dressed in thorns sharper than knives rose up from the crevices, almost shielding you from the perpetrator. Following suit, poison ivy twisted around, blocking any means of escape for the offending wolf demon. Your lack of fear and something else you couldn’t place told you these earthly vines of torture were yours.

You looked back up at the mangy mutt, a soft but dangerous smile stretching across you face, “Congratulations, my friend. You’ll be the first of many.” You flicked your pointer finger at him, and the vines shot out, tightening around his torso like snakes to mice. He yelped and whined, fighting against them. You were annoyed by the sounds he made, another set of vines wrapping around his unfortunate looking face, clamping down on his long snout like a muzzle.

“Good dogs are quiet.” You said.

It was like life on the surface. Smothering and strangling the life out of the women who had romantic intentions for Alastor. Women who told you that you’d never be right for him. That no one could ever love someone so poor as you. Your heart swelled at the thought of him. He would be so disappointed in you, surely.

But…

He’s not here.

There is only you.

The mutt of a man’s struggling subsided, his body falling limp from the hold of your vines and landing with an audible thud to the ground.

You were a firm believer that life was what you made it. You couldn’t make your life better, especially without your Alastor, so you ended it. But now, maybe the afterlife could be what you made it. He wasn’t here, you both separated by different plains of existence, and surely when he died, he’d go to Heaven.

Far, far away from you where he belonged. Where he surely wanted to be.

You’d been too pliant for too long. Holding in an anger that felt released ever so slightly when you killed so freely. Here in Hell, you didn’t have to hide your victims, and in their second deaths, they could be used as tools to earn respect around here.

Perhaps it was far better to be feared than loved.

Yes. The afterlife could be what you make it too. And you were going to make your afterlife everyone else’s problem.

——

You were deemed “Smother Nature.” One of the only clever names given to an Overlord in Hell. You strangled, smothered, and swindled your way to the top, becoming a feared but not unfair Overlord in just a few short years.

Within that span of time, you became more accustomed to your new body and its capabilities.

You were a deer demon, specifically a doe when in your regular form, but when in your more powerful demonic form, your skull would sprout wide black antlers with vines snaking around each one like a crown of thorns. From the tearing of skin atop your head at the site where these new extensions of you sprouted, blood would trickle down your face. Initially it was painful, but now? It only added to how absolutely terrifying you could be. Here, fear meant power, and you basked in it.

This was the only time you loved yourself. You were someone to answer to. Someone powerful and dangerous, who didn’t take anything laying down. You’d killed several Overlords in order to gain this title, and you were proud of it.

Every death at your hands or vines was a surge of adrenaline coursing throughout your body, and you couldn’t have been more thrilled with your decision in looking down the barrel of that rifle.

However, someone else had felt entirely different about their demise at first.

——

Distraught was an understatement. How was he supposed to visit you and his mother? Who else would get you your favorite flowers? Not just any random bouquet, but one composed of your most favorites?

How would he ever see you again?

Seeing as he was in Hell, that confirmed the existence of a Heaven, and surely you’d be up there.

He let out a growl of frustration, a long arm striking the side of a building, a spiderweb of cracks forming from the force. What a surprise, Alastor had committed atrocities during life so selfishly, and now they’d barred him from seeing you ever again.

He should’ve been more careful when burying that man in the swamp. He knew it was hunting season, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Even if it wasn’t, the police that were initially closing in on that woman-strangler shifted their focus onto him since the other killer’s disappearance. He always warned you about walking home alone at night because of that strangler. You’d always brush it off.

A snap from a twig and his head snapped towards the sound, and that blasted hunter shot well before he could ever think about what he was shooting at.

The shot connected at Alastor’s forehead, perfectly centered between his eyes. One of the best shots he’d seen since he took you on hunting excursions when you both were alive.

His heart tightened at the thought of you. You were all he ever seemed to think about.

He hated himself. He hated this body. A prey animal. A buck. Pathetic little antlers akin to toothpicks until he was in his more powerful form.

Nothing down here mattered. If you weren’t here, then nothing mattered. Down here, it was survival of the fittest, and it seemed he needed to make more of a statement in order to curb any ideas that he was weak, and considering his affinity for all things radio-related, he had just the idea to make it a reality.

It didn’t take him long at all to unlock his full demonic potential, hijacking the sound waves and crackling onto every radio in Hell, he made his debut appearance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I interrupt this regularly scheduled programming to bring you the worst thing to ever happen to you sorry sinners since the day of your demise!” Screams of terror and agony rang out from all devices in Hell, reflecting the sheer agony he’s felt ever since he lost you. How therapeutic it was to inflict pain on others, and yet how simultaneously unsatisfying that they’d never feel a fraction of the pain he felt.

If only he knew that your little doe ears flicked to your radio in pure shock.

——

It had to be him. No one else sounded like that. Talked like that. Made your heart race like that.

Ever since being here, the only thing that terrified you was that initial run-in with that wolfish sorry excuse of a man, but now that was topped by the sound of Alastor’s voice filtering through your radio, accompanied by the screams of his victims.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of Alastor, just of facing the unrequited feelings you initially shot yourself to get away from.

Why was he here? He was such a gentleman in his life on the surface, how could it be that he’s here? More screams cut your thoughts short.

He’s so…used to this. So used to torture that he welcomes it with open arms.

He…he had to be like you, no? Living a double life, teetering on the edges of a socially acceptable, functioning member of society, and a cold-blooded killer?

A part of you salivated at the thought that maybe he killed for you at least once, like you’d done for him so many times.

No. No he wouldn’t do that for you.

Your tail wagged and your legs craved to bolt out towards wherever Alastor was. But who knew if he even wanted to see you again? You looked into the mirror of your vanity where the radio rested.

Were you ugly? Would he find this form hideous?

Your fist collided with the mirror, shattering into hundreds of tiny images of you.

You rested your face in your palms, a took a deep breath.

…what did he look like?

The temptation to see him was so strong, it was as if you were caught in a trance that forced you out of your luxurious penthouse, a testament to the many lives you ended and souls you puppeteer. The over abundance of hope held in your body leaked out in the form of green grass and clover that sprouted from each footstep you took.

“Please let it be him.” You whispered to no one in particular. “Please let it be him.”

——

It felt like no amount of bloodshed was enough. He wanted others to feel the hurt he felt internally, and yet, despite the fact that the streets were painted with the lives of the sinners caught in his clutches, it simply wasn’t enough.

The void in his heart and soul was gaping, and he attempted to fill it with the viscera and gore of those he slaughtered, the taste of bitterness and iron filling his maw.

“Y/N if you’re looking down on me, look away.” He whispered to himself, hoping you’d hear his plea and turn away from the carnage he created in your name.

“Alastor?”

This truly was Hell. He was hearing your angelic voice calling his name.

“Alastor?!”

What hurt most was that every part of this eternal punishment was deserved, he just didn’t know if he could accept it.

“Alastor!”

No. He couldn’t accept this infernal reality. If he had to hear your voice but never see you again, he was sure he wouldn’t make it in this afterlife.

His train of thought was cut clean off by a harsh yanking around his throat that sent him flying backwards into the ground.

In shock, he bolted upright, fingers moving towards his throat to cup it gently, as if to assess the damage. Instead of being met with the warmth of his demonic flesh, his fingertips met something cold, and metal-like.

There were no words for how you felt about this situation. How did you…how…?

How did you have a chain around his soul if you never initiated a deal with him? This was unheard of. Absolutely unorthodox.

While you were staring in shock at the glimmering white chain that you held in your hand, his red eyes drifted from the chain up towards the culprit who yanked it, forcing him to the ground.

His eyes widened when he saw who was at the other end of it. He lost his breath for the third time that day.

The first being the impact of his fall.

The second being the chain pulling on his neck.

The third being the vision of you, which could absolutely not be real.

“Y/N?” He whispered, wishing he could take it back. He hadn’t said your name in so long, it was like a button that made his tear ducts malfunction. His vision was blurry, his breathing shaky.

“I-“ you opened your mouth then immediately closed it. It truly was him. He looked different, hair longer, skin grey, teeth sharp. And he was red. So, so red. But it was him.

Your Alastor.

He slowly got up from the ground, feeling as though if he moved too quickly, you’d dissipate like a mist. He couldn’t handle that.

The chain you held in your claws slacked because of his inching towards you. You debated backing away, but his eyes, despite being the color of blood, of warnings, of danger, you were sure they’d never looked to soft.

And they were looking right at you.

You. The object of all of his wants, desires, and affections. Too stupid to realize it in your lifetime, yet brought together by the very thing that made him realize the depth of his love for you; death.

You weren’t sure when, but you started to cry.

His heart felt so heavy. Heavy with love, with grief, with a hatred for the way he made you cry.

His claws reached out, cradling your wet face, the most gentle action he performed with them that day.

Your body betrayed your mind, your head leaning into the warmth of his large hands. You thought he certainly wouldn’t want you to, but your heart couldn’t help it.

His thumbs carefully wiped away the tears on your cheeks, being mindful of the sharpness of his claws. “Is it really you?” He asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked as though you were in pain. Your ears drooped. This isn’t the way you wanted him to see you. You looked-

“You’re as stunning as the day I lost you.”

You sucked your lips in, trying to hold in the sob that was fighting its way out of your body, and you closed the distance between the two of you in the tightest embrace you could possibly muster, buried your face in the lapels of his overcoat.

He held onto you like you’d disappear for a second time, finger carding through your hair, nose intaking your scent. You smelled just like you did on Earth, only, with more floral notes.

For the first time since you got to Hell, you sobbed. “I’m so sorry Alastor.” You wailed.

He was sure you could both hear his heart audibly crack, “You’ve nothing to be sorry about, my darling.” He tightened his hold onto you. He was terrified he’d say something wrong, to have you take your life a second time in order to run away from him. “I’m the one who will forever be sorry. I-I was such a fool.”

You looked up at him, and shook your head. “I- I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me again.” You admitted.

“Darling, every waking moment of my life after you’d gone was spent wishing you were by my side once again. What I did to deserve my wish coming true, I’ll never know, but I’d do it over again if it meant I could have you.” Your foreheads pressed together, entry wounds kissing. “Y/N, no words could ever convey how sorry I am for treating you the way I did. I was so blinded by my own ignorance and arrogance that I couldn’t see just how madly, deeply, and quickly I’d fallen in love with you.”

You searched his eyes for a hint of an untruth, but found none. You laughed wetly, sniffling. “I love you too. More than anything. To live without you wasn’t an option, Alastor.”

His smile tightened at your last sentence. “I feel the very same way.”

You were counting in your head when to act on your emotions, trying to build up the courage.

One.

Two.

You never got to three. You didn’t like landing on three because that’s when everyone expected something to happen, and you just couldn’t wait any longer.

You took Alastor’s face in your hands, leaning into him while bringing him closer with your arms. Your kiss wasn’t how you always dreamed it to be, and yet, it was somehow better. It tasted of bitterness, of sweetness, of blood and death, and of life. He smelled of iron, of rot, of cinnamon and a fireplace.

And then it overwhelmingly smelt of roses.

You parted, both looking around in shock at the garden of rose bushes your powers created. You were initially bashful, but Alastor’s smile never looked brighter, laughing as he took your face in his hands and kissed you again, looking around as the rose bushes grew even larger.

“It seems the best way to get you flowers is to kiss you, hmm?” He teased. “We’ll have our very own Garden of Eden by the end of the day.” He teased softly.

“Not before you tell me why you’re down here.” You lightly scolded him, no real anger of malice behind the question.

He froze for a second, wondering if he’d scare you away if you knew what he’d done. “My dear, I-“ you placed a finger over his lips.

“Alastor, nothing you could say would ever make me stop loving you.” You removed your finger from his face and gesturing for him to keep going.

“I murdered many men who preyed on women…” he admitted, looking off to the side.

“You’re leaving something out.” Your neck craning to follow his line of sight.

“I also murdered men who meant to court you…” his claws reached up behind his neck to scratch at it, but he was reminded of the chain around his throat.

“You killed for me?” You said, astonished. Alastor mistook it for silent horror, until he saw clover sprouting out from around your hooves. He looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but an unbridled passion for him and his actions, leading to his cheeks to burn red as the rest of him. “I have something to confess myself.” You said at this revelation. “I strangled multiple women because they sought your heart. I couldn’t allow any competition whatsoever.” You played with your fingers nervously, afraid of what his reaction would be.

He was sure that you were made for him, and he for you. No other woman could compare to the lovely creature that was you; homicidal tendencies and all. He kissed you again, having to put this surge of love somewhere.

You looked at his throat then, at the glowing white collar around it. He shivered when your hands traced the metal, the very hands that had wrapped around so many necks before. The softest and most delicate hands he’d ever known that had snuffed out so many lives in the name of your love for him.

“I don’t understand how this happened, Alastor. We never made a deal. I shouldn’t own your soul.”

He thought back to a human version of himself, a broken man who pledged his afterlife to you. A decision he wouldn’t ever regret.

He took your hands in his larger ones. “Darling, you have all of me, heart and soul. I know you’ll take wonderful care of it.” He kissed the inside of one of your palms. “However, if you are going to pull on the leash so harshly, next time I’d prefer a warning.”

-♥️-

I would say I apologize for the wait, but patience is a virtue! I hope you all enjoyed this part 2, and I appreciate the support my last fic got. Please know I appreciated all comments, reblogs, and hearts you all so generously gave. ♥️

TAGLIST: @diffidentphantom @xalygatorx @whitewolfsoldat @littledolly2345 @purple-umbrella-girl @milkissesx @cinnamon-galaxies @michi-keinz

And apologies to @psychoaxo and @ari42 I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason.

#x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin x you #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel

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redtsundere-writes · 3 months ago

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Part 17: Everything Is Cursed

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 6371 words.

Beginning. | �� Previous | Next →

One question was bothering you. You had been through hell and you still hadn't received your reward. That inquiry was running in circles in your mind. There were many answers, but none were facts. What was happening? Why were you going through it? How long would it be until it was over? Many possibilities, none seemed to be the right one. It was a doubt that arose the morning after the small funeral you prepared for your sister.

There was a small chapel past the garden and crops behind the terrible castle. Its white facade, with a classical curved parapet and a red tiled roof, emanated serenity in the middle of hell. On top of the facade, the emblem of Sukuna’s kingdom rose towards the sky. Vines grew around the open arch that reveals its interior. That small place had existed since Sukuna conquered these lands. With no function for that small building, Sukuna decided to leave it as it was. Sometimes the servants would go there in their free time to pray for their souls in case they didn’t survive another day.

You carefully placed the golden urn with Yorozu’s ashes on one of the shelves. Uraume had given it to you the morning after your little expedition with the king. That morning, you woke up, surprised to be in your room in the castle. Apparently, you had fallen asleep while watching the sunset and the king had to carry you back in his arms. “How embarrassing,” you thought before getting ready for the funeral.

You put on the cap of your black cloak so that no one would disturb you as you dedicated a minute of silence to your sister’s soul with your cheeks completely dry. You had quickly accepted that she was no longer with you and that you couldn’t do anything for her in life. Now the only thing you could do was honor her short life. Everything had happened so fast. A couple of months ago you were crying from happiness to see her, and now you didn’t want to cry from disappointment.

You listened to Kenjaku give his class, but you couldn't pay attention. It had been a week since Yorozu's death and something was missing. The reason why you had committed that atrocity that you wanted to forget but would haunt you for the rest of your life. You tried to pay attention to your teacher, but that doubt kept pulling you into the limbo of probabilities.

“Once you understand your opponent's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because that's how you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side hasn't really said,” Kenjaku explained while writing the keywords on the board. “That's why studying the rival is very important in the debate.” He turned around to find you lost in your thoughts. You looked at the board, but you weren't really reading what it said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why hasn't the king proposed to me yet?” You asked him, coming back to your senses. Kenjaku looked at you confused.

“I meant about class…”

“Ah.” You quickly read what the board said about the steps to learn how to argue. “I have no doubts about that.”

Kenjaku had noticed your strange attitude for a couple of days now, but as you continued with your education without delay, he never asked you. He thought it was because you were still mourning your sister's death or sad about not knowing the true whereabouts of your sisters. The teacher smiled to himself, just when he thought he could read you like an open book, it turned out that he wasn't.

“So that's what's been distracting you lately?” Kenjaku inquired.

“Did I do something wrong? The king promised to marry me once I killed someone of my kind, but he hasn't done it yet,” you explained worriedly.

“Do you want to marry him that much?” Kenjaku joked tenderly. It was nice to see a girl completely in love.

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation. Your master smiled at hearing you so excited. “My sister died because of that, I better do it.” That was not an answer he expected to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost Yorozu because of that deal. If Sukuna doesn't propose to me, I would have killed my sister for nothing,” you explained, crossing your arms in frustration. “Do you know why the king hasn't done it yet?”

Kenjaku's enthusiastic smile disappeared just like that day when Sukuna came back with you in his arms, completely asleep and, worst of all, without a ring on your finger. The king was stupid for not taking the opportunity to ask you to marry him after all.

“I have no idea,” Kenjaku answered. “Maybe he's been very busy.”

That could be a possibility. You hadn't seen the king as often as before. You used to see him at every meal of the day, in the afternoon when you gave him your daily report, and when he sometimes poked his nose into your education. Now, you only saw him at breakfast time because he spent the rest of the day locked in his office. You couldn't even report to him because he wouldn't let you in. It was strange how everything around you had changed after your sister's death.

"I hope he didn't scam me," you thought, holding your head in guilt.

"The king may be many things, but a scammer isn't one of them," Kenjaku, I assure you.

The door opened, interrupting the teacher-student conversation. You recognized almost immediately the naturally bitter face, the gray hair, and the dull uniform in dark tones. It was that new servant who was so kind to you. All you knew about him had been from Mrs. Inoue, who had told you that he was such a reserved, serious, and somewhat grumpy man. It seemed so strange to you that you never perceived it like that.

“Sorry to interrupt you. The king calls you to his office,” he announced.

“Maybe the time has come,” Kenjaku commented with a smile.

“Finally…” You sighed.

It was strange. Kenjaku thought you would be more excited about marrying the king. You studied complicated subjects that fried your brain, trained until exhaustion, and got ready early to please the king’s eyes. It made no sense for you to work so hard for this moment and not be excited.

Sukuna let them into the office. You and Kenjaku entered after bowing in respect to the king and his right-hand man, Uraume, who stood faithfully behind him. Sukuna’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. He gripped his pen tightly to mask his nervousness at being in your presence.

Returning to the castle after his failed marriage proposal, he carried you to your room as you snored softly. He gently laid you down on the bed so as not to wake you up. He took off your boots before tucking you into bed. He sat next to you to admire your calmness. Your chest rose and fell slowly to the rhythm of your breathing. Your eyelashes stood out more when your eyes were closed. Your half-open lips invited him to come closer to kiss you like that night you spent together. “Enough!” Sukuna scolded himself in his mind to stop and immediately leave your room so you could continue your dream.

Since that night, he realized that he can’t think coherently when he iswas near you, so he decided to take immediate measures so you wouldn’t distract him when working. It was frustrating how your mere presence could upset him like that. He had to fight with all his instincts to concentrate on what mattered most now, the future of his kingdom.

You and Kenjaku approached the desk. Quickly, you noticed a large black box with a gold engraving of roses on it. It was almost as long as the desk. That must have been the reason you had been called. It seems that this was not what you were expecting.

“Open it.” Sukuna ordered you.

You looked at Kenjaku for a second, worried about what might be inside. Your master patted you on the back a couple of times, inviting you to come closer. You worked up the courage to open the box without a hint of fear. The latches clicked open at the same time. You lifted the lid to reveal the immaculate treasure.

A beautiful rose gold bow that radiated a special aura against the light. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you pulled it out of its box, along with its matching pink-dyed leather quiver. You never thought you'd see such a beautiful weapon in your life. You pretended to load the bow with an imaginary arrow to test it out. It was lighter than the one you had before, and you could tell it was made with the best quality materials. As you lowered the bow, you noticed a small detail. In the small hollow of the handle there was an engraving, a small daisy. You smiled at the cute detail. You thought it would have a rose, since it was a common symbol in the Sukuna kingdom, but daisies are cute too.

“It's a cursed bow,” Sukuna explained, catching your attention. “That means you can kill curses with it. Keep that in mind when you train with my soldiers.”

“What's the difference from a normal bow?” You asked curiously.

“This bow is infused with the cursed energy from Yorozu’s body,” the king replied bluntly.

“Are you saying that part of my sister is here?” You stammered. Everyone in the room could tell that you were about to burst into tears.

“Yes,” Sukuna replied in the same tone.

You hugged the bow to your chest as you sobbed softly, hiding your face behind your hair and the upper limb. A pang of guilt attacked Sukuna’s chest. He really thought you would like his gift, since you deserved a cursed weapon made especially for you, but it seems he was wrong.

“Thank you…” You sobbed. “Thank you for giving me something to honor her life with.”

You looked into his eyes with tears running down your cheeks and a nostalgic smile on your face. Sukuna’s heart quickly skipped a beat as he realized the true reason for your crying. His lower hands, hidden beneath the desk, clenched into fists to control himself. How could you play with his feelings without even trying? Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the powerful tyrant and the commander of thousands, was being corrupted by a mere mortal.

He hated these feelings you caused him. You made him so embarrassed he looked like a tomato, you annoyed him so much, but he couldn't get mad at you, and now, you could manipulate him with a simple smile. He would lose his temper when he was around you and that drove him crazy. If you wanted, he would be in the palm of your hand. He had to keep you as far away from him as possible to prevent the situation from getting worse for him.

“Just go train already,” Sukuna ordered in a grumpy tone, turning his gaze to an empty document to avoid seeing you.

It was a shame he hadn't asked you to marry him yet, but the king really did look busy. You could see the physical effect that being locked up in his office for so long had caused. He had purple eye bags, his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned the document lazily. “Maybe later,” you thought disappointed before taking the quiver with pink feathered arrows.

“Yes, my king,” you replied with a bow to leave.

“We must leave then,” Kenjaku made you second.

“Who gave you permission to leave?” Sukuna ordered him.

The master was surprised at that. You and Kenjaku shared a confused look, but you decided to obey the king so as not to cause any more inconvenience. Your legs walked as quickly as possible, closing the door behind you as you left the office. Sukuna’s hands relaxed as he no longer had to keep his emotions in check. After making sure you had already left, Kenjaku approached the king.

“Why so secretive, my king?” Kenjaku inquired curiously.

“It’s not a secret, it’s just that she’s not ready to know what I’m planning yet.” Sukuna got up from the desk to take one of the scrolls that were displayed on a bookshelf. He unrolled the scroll with a snap to reveal an updated map of the great world they knew.

It was a large map made from parchment and black ink with wonderful detail. It showed all the important kingdoms and places of interest that made up the world. The Kingdom of Sukuna and the Kingdom of Jogo were to the west, the kingdoms of Gojo, Geto and Yaga; to the north. The kingdoms of Zen'in and Nanami; to the east, and finally, the Kingdom of Tsukumo was to the southeast. Currently, the great tyrant owned the east and planned to expand soon.

"I'm going to declare war on the Zen'in," Sukuna announced, pointing at the large territory with his finger.

Kenjaku looked at him impressed, but not surprised. He knew that one day the king would not be satisfied with keeping the infested lands with only curses, so he would go to conquer human lands. Kenjaku glanced at Uraume out of the corner of his eye, who had not said a single word the entire time they were there. He expected nothing less from the shadow of his majesty.

“Wow, how ambitious,” Kenjaku commented while looking at the map. “May I know why you made that decision?” He returned his gaze to the king with curiosity.

“The Gojo Kingdom and the Geto Kingdom are allied, so an invasion could be complicated with my current troops. The Nanami Kingdom, Tsukumo and Yaga are small but distant. They will be my next targets once I have the Zen'in.” Everything the king said made sense, but there was still a small kingdom that was at the equator of the world to consider.

“What about the Kamo Kingdom? It is small and right in front of the Jogo Kingdom. It is the perfect target.”

“How many times have Commander Mahito and his troops tried to kill them?” Sukuna asked him seriously. Kenjaku gulped at that indirect accusation.

“I have already lost count, my king,” he answered, embarrassed by his comrade.

“They may be a small kingdom, but they are stupidly powerful. They are watching their lands at all hours for living so close to the Jogo kingdom. If anyone is ready for an invasion, it is them.” Sukuna explained. "As this is my first invasion into the heart of a kingdom, I have spent all this time carefully choosing my first victim. Because once I do, the other kingdoms will know what awaits them."

"If you have already decided, I am ready to obey your orders as always." Kenjaku gave a bow of respect that Sukuna completely ignored to look at the window.

"My plan will be carried out once I secure the life of my heir, in case everything goes wrong," Sukuna explained. "During that time, you will take care of the troops of the Jogo kingdom."

"And what about the education of the miss?" Kenjaku asked worriedly.

"I already have that covered." Sukuna answered.

"So what is the first step?" Kenjaku inquired.

“Wait for the Zen’in to make the first move.”

You left your room after finishing getting ready for the day of training that awaited you. You had decided that from now on you would use Yorozu's dresses to train since they were lighter than yours, perfect for moving with complete freedom. Archery is a sport that requires complete mobility of the upper body, so it is annoying to wear elegant dresses that require a corset. You were heading to the courtyard, moving your shoulders in circles to warm up on the way, until you ran into that kind servant. He was dusting off an obsidian vase propped on a marble column with great laziness.

"Did everything go well with the king, miss?" The man asked you when he noticed your presence.

"Yes, he gave me a new bow." You showed it to him to show it off. He was amazed to see it.

"It is very beautiful. It is made with the best fiberglass and carbon. It must have cost the king a good fortune." He explained as he took it to examine it carefully.

“It's obvious that you know about this,” you said, somewhat surprised, taking back your bow.

“Of course I know, I was a hunter before I was a servant,” he replied.

“Really?” You asked, fascinated. The gentleman was going to answer, but another servant, who was passing by, intercepted their conversation.

“Wasuke, leave the lady alone and get back to work!” The servant scolded him angrily.

“Shut your mouth, idiot!” Wasuke replied in the same tone.

That sudden change in attitude took you by surprise. Now you understood why Mrs. Inoue said he was a grumpy man. One moment he could be a kind man and, the next, someone extremely rude.

“In fact, he is working. He is going to help me train,” you defended him. “Isn't that right, Wasuke?” You gave him a knowing wink.

“Of course, miss.” He gave you a slight smile when he realized what you were planning.

The other servant rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came, muttering insults under his breath. Typical attitude for an 80-year-old man. You and Wasuke looked at each other knowingly before smiling at each other as if you had done some mischief.

“I shall warn you that I am a very strict master,” Wasuke warned you.

“Just what I need,” you told him. “My name is Y/n,” you introduced yourself with a bow of respect to your new master.

“Everyone knows who you are,” he joked. “My name is Wasuke Itadori. It will be an honor to train you.” You had a good feeling about this.

Wasuke shouted encouragements at you while you barely did push-ups. As soon as you reached the parade ground, he told you that you were the weakest woman he had ever met in his life, so he forced you to do different exercises to strengthen your arms, shoulders, and back. Your weak muscles could barely support the weight of your own body each time you climbed up, keeping your back as straight as possible. You sweated, even in places you didn't know could sweat.

“Lift that neck, lady! Even a little girl can do 30 push-ups!” Wasuke yelled at you, small drops of saliva escaping from his mouth every time he opened his mouth.

“That's what I'm trying to do!” You complained between moans of exhaustion.

“I don't want a try, I want you to do it!” Wasuke spat. “Three more!”

With the little breath you had left, you lowered your body. The grass tickled the palms of your hands, but that wasn't going to stop you. You climbed up with your back straight and then lowered yourself again. This was more complicated than it seemed. Wasuke kept yelling at you to finish the simple exercise with a good grade. When he said he was a strict teacher, he meant it. You did the last push-up and collapsed to the ground. You groaned in pain as you breathed in the freshly cut grass.

“Get up now,” Wasuke ordered you. You reluctantly obeyed. “Now you are going to hold the bow in front of you for 5 minutes.” That sounded simple.

You took your bow, extended your arms in front of you and held the weapon with both hands. All was well until your limbs began to shiver from the exhaustion of the previous exercises. You tightened your grip on the bow to keep it from slipping from the sweat. You didn’t think you could last 5 minutes like that.

“Can I ask you something?” You tried to distract your brain from the exercise so that time would pass faster. “Why are you here? You look quite young compared to everyone else.”

Unlike the other servants, Wasuke was the youngest of them all, like you at the time. Most servants were between 60 and 80, he looked to be under 50. He had gray hair but still had dark hair, wrinkles from age, but he didn't look like a raisin, and sometimes he didn't hear well, but he was still strong.

“Do you want the truth?” He asked you. You nodded.

The truth was something he had a hard time telling. He was always a good liar to protect his family, especially his daughter. He didn't want her to live in fear because of living in a commune that was in constant danger of being attacked by a curse. His lies were the cause of his only daughter's giant curiosity.

“My daughter died because of a curse. My wife committed suicide because she couldn't bear the mourning," Wasuke confessed with all the sadness in his heart. "I was a coward and couldn't follow the same path. That's why I'm waiting for the king to decide when it will be my time to join them." Your heart broke when you heard that. It was a tragic fate to suffer. "It's only fair that I too die at the hands of a curse. It's the price I must pay for not protecting my little girl."

You knew perfectly well what he was talking about. There is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to protect what you love. You had lost your family by not being able to fight adversity. You couldn't even protect that child at the harvest for a day who was killed by your lack of courage. You tightened your bow again, this time, out of frustration that both of you had to go through that.

"I'm so sorry," you stammered. You didn't think his answer would be so heartbreaking.

“Don’t apologize. Life is cruel by nature,” Wasuke sighed.

“Still, I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

“I know, Miss.”

Wasuke remembered seeing you cry and scream at the sky for your sin of killing your own blood. He had never seen a person suffer so much physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Even though he was behind the strong walls of the castle, a giant window separated them, and he had a deafness problem, he could still hear the powerful wails of your soul in mourning. Your palms open like books, the blood splattered on the canvas that was your body, and your face in sorrow. It was such a powerful image that he doubted he would ever forget it.

The loud bells woke them both from the memories of their sad pasts. It was the alarm announcing an invasion. This was the second time you had heard it in your time in the castle, and you had an idea of who it could be. Several armed curses ran towards the castle entrance through the battlements that were on the walls, while incoherent instructions were shouted to you.

“Don’t let him pass!” A strong-bodied curse ordered as he summoned a dark screen that slowly covered the entire castle.

“We must go!” Wasuke asked you before taking your arm. You were going to follow him, but you remembered what Sukuna told you on your first day of training:

“In case of an invasion, you will need a cursed bow that allows you to use special arrows to kill curses and use it against sorcerers.” You tightened your grip on the cursed bow he had recently gifted you.

“You go. I will stay here as reinforcement,” you told him, removing your arm so he could leave alone. “Tell everyone to prepare to escape if it gets worse.”

“Are you sure, miss?” Wasuke asked.

“It is an order,” you said, sure.

Wasuke looked at the entrance one last time and nodded, accepting the order you had given him. He returned to the castle at a quick pace to do what he had just been asked to do. You looked ahead before pulling an arrow from your quiver to load your bow. You were completely alone in the courtyard, as all the curses were either outside the castle or on the perimeter. You could only hear the war cries of the curses. You gulped, shaking at not knowing what was going on the other side. You had an idea, but you weren't sure.

The screams turned into wails in a moment. You gripped your bow, mentally preparing for your turn to engage in battle. Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be alone. There was Kenjaku and Uraume to fight next to you. Sukuna can defeat any enemy in the blink of an eye. He would take down this strong foe, wouldn’t he?

The curse screen dissipated into the air, announcing that this curse was annihilated. The chains of the drawbridge began to jingle, and the castle gate swung open. The large bridge fell into place, the ground beneath your feet rumbling. It shook you completely, staggering you in place. You tightly gripped your bow and aimed it at the invader. “A man?” you thought, faltering in your shot.

A tall man, great posture and immaculate aura, walked in confidently, leaving all the curses behind, turning into ash. His spotless black boots thudded against the thick wood, announcing his arrival. His splendid bottle-green military uniform had several gold medals decorating his chest, a black leather belt, and dark pants. He smiled proudly as he combed his blonde hair with black tips back with his fingers.

“Oh?” He stopped upon entering, staring at you in disbelief for a second, as if he had entered the wrong house by accident. “Where is the white-haired guy of questionable sex? He is the one who always greets me,” he asked, confused.

“Did you kill all the curses?” You asked, surprised to see so much ash evaporating into the air.

“You must be new.” The man smiled and confidently approached you. Not knowing his intentions, you stretched the string to load the bow to its limit, but this did not make him stop. “It is a very large weapon, do you know how to use it? I could teach you.” He spoke to you as if you were stupid. You frowned further, this stranger's attitude starting to bother you.

You had recently realized that people like him were the type you disliked the most. Self-centered people who think they can do whatever they please. Yorozu had given you the tools to deal with people like this. You forgave her because she was your sister, but him? This guy was a complete stranger to whom you owed nothing.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” You questioned with the most demanding tone you could fake, you had copied it from Sukuna from hearing it so much.

“I am Commander Naoya Zen'in,” he announced himself with a proud smile. “So I was right,” you thought.

You had only been a servant in the castle for a short time when you heard that name for the first time. You were washing the king's long robes in the backyard with a few other maids. Your fingers were beginning to wrinkle like they do from being in the soapy water for so long. The quiet and the voices of the gossiping maids kept you company. The little peace of the task was interrupted by the alarm bells that echoed throughout the castle. You stopped at the strange noise, having no idea what you were supposed to do.

“An invasion,” one of the servants announced, surprisingly calm.

“Do you think it's Naoya Zen'in?” Another servant, one who had been in the castle the longest, asked, somewhat excited.

“Winter is almost over, most likely,” Her coworker answered, wiping her hands on her apron after finishing her task.

“Who is Naoya Zen'in?” You asked them, butting into the conversation.

“A very handsome commander from an enemy kingdom who comes every year to deliver a letter to the king,” the first one answered. “Let's go see him,” she invited you to go with them to the entrance of the castle.

“No, thank you. I still have to finish washing this,” you politely declined.

The three ladies quickened their pace to find out if it was the man they could see annually. You looked at them curiously. “Was that man so attractive that you had to see him in person?” You wondered. Now you were curious to see this man, but you had a task to finish. You dipped your hands into the soapy water again to try to remove the stubborn blood stains from the king's white robes.

Now you understand why this man caused such a stir among the maids. Someone with such a presence had not been seen since Geto Suguru's corpse appeared in these parts. You looked towards the window that overlooked the great hall, a small group of ladies greeted Naoya from the safe point. The flattered young man returned the gesture.

“Women being women,” he sighed with a big smile. “Anyway, I have an important letter from Zen'in.”

“You can give it to me and leave,” you told him without lowering your bow.

“I think you don't understand your position as a female,” Naoya came closer without a hint of fear nor respect for you. “You're not going to be able to stop me.”

“No!” You shouted, making him stop at the loud objection. “You're the one who doesn't understand.” You lowered your torso so that the arrow's trajectory would change from his torso to his face. “One shot, and you're a dead man, commander Zen'in.”

Naoya smiled at the offense. Not because of the clear threat of death, but because a woman thought she could be a match against him. You and your pink bow were nothing compared to him. A replaceable servant couldn't be in front of a great commander of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. He was about to teach you a lesson, and it would be the hard way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to save you? I doubt a girl as weak as you would survive long here," Naoya offered, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.

"I don't need you to save me," you spat angrily.

"Fine," Naoya pulled a knife from his back, spinning it in the palm of his hand to wield it. "Whatever you say."

You let go of the rope when you clearly saw his intentions to hurt you, and the arrow flew into his face. He dodged it with his knife before lunging at you in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and his knife was already at your throat. It had all happened too fast. You had no idea how he had reached you so quickly. The blade swung down as Naoya's smile grew wider. You raised your hand to deflect it, but it wasn't going to make it in time. It came so fast that you couldn't even close your eyes to await your fate.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic fist sent Naoya flying, completely away from you. The powerful commander ended up being slammed into the nearest wall. Naoya groaned in pain before falling to the ground. You were perplexed at how bizarre that had been. You touched your neck on instinct, you didn't have a scratch on it. You sat down on the grass to look around for your unexpected savior.

At first glance, he looked like any other human, but up close, things were different. He was a curse with skin covered in stitches as if his body was made of patches. He had long, blue-gray hair that reached past his neck, and was divided into three large locks with bows at the ends. He also dressed like any other human. He was wearing a black shawl that separated into three pieces on the left sleeve and matching pants with white shoes.

“I'm just arriving, and they're already welcoming me with a sorcerer to kill, how fun!” The curse exclaimed as excited as a child in the park.

Naoya stood up with difficulty, dusting off his uniform. You stood up in the same way to retrieve your bow and load it with another arrow. You approached the curse with confidence, since it had saved you, even if it had only been for its own entertainment.

“Are you okay, miss?” The curse asked you with a big smile without taking your eyes off Naoya.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” You told him, along with a small bow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mahito, I am the commander of the Jogo kingdom. You must be the lady that the king ordered me to protect.” He introduced himself. “Did the king ask you that?” You asked yourself surprised. “So let me take care of this stupid sorcerer.”

“Who are you calling stupid, you fucking curse?!” Zen'in exclaimed before launching into combat for a second round.

Mahito pushed you away suddenly to transform his arms into two tentacles with dozens of knives on them and run towards his fast opponent. Naoya's knife challenged Mahito's along with the clicking of metals. The curse laughed as if it were a game, angering Naoya even more for underestimating him. They were both moving at speeds your eyes could barely keep up with, but you loaded your bow with another arrow anyway. You tried to aim for Naoya, but he was stupidly fast and Mahito was in the way. “Maybe it’s best I don’t get involved now,” you thought with some disappointment.

Mahito changed one of his tentacles into a large sword that fell on top of Zen'in. Naoya barely dodged it, his breathing ragged from the cursed energy he was expending by keeping his technique active for so long. "Who is this guy?!" He thought annoyed before moving away with a couple of backflips until he landed on his feet.

"Fine, you win..." Naoya took the envelope out of his jacket and threw it at you like a ninja star, landing on the grass in front of you. "Just for today," he said before running towards the nearest wall to climb it and escape.

"Oh, not so fast!" You exclaimed annoyed before pulling the rope.

You looked for a target before he left your sight. You focused on his back, which was the area that was free, as he climbed the wall as if he were an agile ant. You let go of the rope and the arrow flew through the air. Naoya saw it coming and dodged out of its path, but the arrow unexpectedly changed its trajectory and stuck in his back. Naoya bit his tongue to stop himself from letting out a cry of pain and continuing on his escape route. In less than a second, he had disappeared from your sight and Mahito's.

"Ah, the king is going to scold me for running away!" Mahito whined, disappointed in his efforts.

"How come that arrow didn't stop him?" You asked yourself confused. Clearly, it hit him, but he still slipped out of your hands like a damn cockroach.

"Those Zen'in have a very strong pride. That's probably what it was," Mahito complained. "But you're very good." He gave you a thumbs up. You smiled slightly.

You looked back at the card that was lying on the grass. You picked it up to examine it. It was a brown envelope with the Zen'in Kingdom's crest stamped on a wax seal at the opening. A purple orchid on the stamp decorated the envelope, giving the package a more elegant touch.

“Gimme that,” Mahito snatched it from you, ready to open it.

“You shouldn't open it,” you warned him. “It's for the king.”

“It's from an enemy,” Mahito said as he looked for a way to open it without destroying the contents. “It could contain poison, activate some bomb or a weird technique they made up. Believe me, these Zen'in are capable of anything.”

Mahito pushed you roughly to get you away from the possible threat. You had no choice but to listen to him. This was an unusual curse. He had a playful attitude, very different from what you imagined a commander should have. You covered your ears as soon as he finally opened the envelope, in case it was a bomb. Instead of a glass or smoke bomb, it turned out to be a confetti bomb. It shot towards Mahito's face, surprising him immediately, as a colored piece of paper fell into his eye.

“Oh!” You quickly approached him. Mahito rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get it off. “Let me see,” you asked.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his hands away to meet his different eyes, since his left eye was navy blue and the other, gray. Even though it was a strange looking curse, his eyes were very pretty. You blew into his eye so that the paper flew away. Once near the tear duct, you reached for it with your thumb to remove it completely.

Your touch was very kind and warm. Mahito was so used to humans treating him so badly that it was a little uncomfortable for him that you were treating him so calmly and with such appreciation. He now understood why Sukuna had chosen you as the future queen, you were a special human.

“That's it,” you smiled at him. “What does the letter say?”

“You read it, my eye hurts,” Mahito reluctantly gave it to you, rubbing his injured eye.

You opened the envelope to check its contents. You thought it was a declaration of war or some important meeting, but no. Nothing like it. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you saw what it was.

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

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rakiah · 4 months ago

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Musing on Leovil as I was rewatching the classic Snow White and a thought struck me: out of all 3, Vil is only one who actually understands what love is. The Evil Queen/Grimhilde outright dismisses it as non-existant while Snow White naively falls in love with the first handsome face that comes up. Meanwhile it took time for Vil to fall for Leona and understands that staying in love requires effort.

So a little drabble came to mind:

Fools, the lot of them. Despite not being related by blood, they were similar in their misbegotten conceptions of love.

His mentor, though wiser than him a thousand other subjects, belives that true love is simply doesn't exist. That any form love takes is meaningless and easy to erase. Grimhilde sees love as something that weakens, something that leaves one open to manipulation and defeat.

His mentor's enemy, though he himself has no real qualms with her, belives true love to be a pure thing. Something that can conquer all and leave naught but sunshine and rainbows in its wake. Snow White sees love as the ultimate goodness, something that is inheritly of light and not possible amongst the dark.

Fools, both of them.

Vil knows quite well what love is. It is time, patience, understanding, maturity, and dedication. Falling in love is random, but staying in love requires constant effort. Love was neither good nor evil, simply a feeling to be felt by people. The only thing Snow got right was that love could indead conquer. It could empower someone to commit the bravest of acts or the worst of atrocities for the sake of others. Vil would know. Had you asked him before, he would have said that murder was excessive and a mere waste of resources that carried far too much risk. Now he wouldn't hesitate to plunge a blade into the throat of another if it meant Leona could smile again. He didn't hesitate to poison all those statesmen that tried to have Leona shipped off to some desperate princess on the corner of the world. On that note, Leona also didn't hesitate to reciprocate when he had a fair share of Vil's rivals mauled by those hyenas.

Love is not pure, Vil muses. It's rather intense. After all, those nights spent together had never been pure. Though it did grow into love.

And even now, as Vil listens to his mentor go on with her advice to never love another if he wishes to remain strong, Vil can subtly feel the fruit of Leona's reciprocation growing inside of him. Twins, if the oracle was correct.

He can't help but smile, knowing that Snow White and Grimhilde would both be as red as Riddle if they new. The former embaressed and the latter enraged. He could see it now, his dear mentor marching all the way down to the Savanna just to yell at Scar for his "failure as a royal mentor" and just poison Leona right then and there.

Well, Vil had been pondering how to tell Leona he was going to be a father and the cat had been a bit too smug for his own good recently. But then again, he doesn't want to be a single parent.

Decisions, decisions.

Terrible overdue answer, I’m so sorry for the delay! 💦 I struggled a lot to find something to doodle with your gorgeous text because I really wanted to. And people need to read those great lines! Sorry for making you wait and thank you so much for sharing this! I love it! 🙏

So Evil Queen Vil will be.

#answer #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #drabble #I have zero time with my current comic work that’s the real struggle #I want to doodle for every asks…#but time…#life is truly unfair

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year ago

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Bestie I'm dying to see your take one yandere fem delinquent

yes bestie. here you go. no aesthetics for now since i’m pretty busy 😭

tw// girlie doesnt know what consent is, abusive/yan dynamics

yan! fem delinquent is somehow more hornier than yan! masc delinquent?

is there a rhyme or reason for such a headcannon? no. just horni.

she loves dragging you out from class and fucking your brains out 24/7. especially if you’re a stubborn/studious person. “it’s the best way to relieve your stress” she says as she adjusts her strap.

unlike most yans she never puts a label on the two of you. people don’t know if you’re just one of her toys or something more. mostly cause she a girlboss like that and doesn’t want her name to be tied to anything but her achievements (something you two share and what she fell for you for) but also cause it’s for your safety.

you inspire her so much. it would be an understatement to say that you are her entire world.

now what separates her from good old love to creep yandere?

well first of all, she never asks for your consent. for anything. she assumes she knows better and that you should thank her for it.

you never asked for that professor to be beaten to oblivion for making such a vague question on the quiz? well at least now they know not to do that and mess with your studies!

that other girl that you’re close with doesn’t see you that way and neither do you but yan! fem! delinquent still bullied her til she dropped out? don’t you see all the looks she was giving you, she totally wanted to whisk you away!

so on and so forth.

yan! fem delinquent most likely has connections to keep her in the school despite the atrocities she committed and the ones listed above aren’t even the worst of it.

this is just my opinion, but one of the worst things she could do is to bump up your grades falsely and make your competition /rivals fail cause it’s both super obvious and does not help reader like at all in the future-

but anyways i like to think she becomes yan! fem mafia boss in the future but that’s a story for another day.

#hns.txt💬#hns.ask💌#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fem x reader #fem yandere #yandere scenario #yandere headcannons #yandere concept #yandere idea #yandere delinquent

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transingthoseformers · 9 months ago

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OverpanKid!OP anon

Sentinel and Blackarachnia would have interesting reactions.

If Overpan figured out what happened on Aracha-7, Sentinel would be in deep slag. Thankfully, while they don't see eye to eye, Optimus doesn't want Sentinel dead, so while his parents are tearing into Ultra Magnus (not literally but the little twitches in Trepan's digits and Overlord's glare say other wise, though they can't act on it. While they are of neutral alliance and can't be prosecuted, Optimus isn't and they wouldn't put it past the Council prosecuting their son for their actions) Optimus pulls Sentinel over to the side like;

"Hey, I think we need to have a chat and bury a few hatchets before you get buried by them."

They have a long overdue conversation and who knew that the threat of your old pal's parents ripping you to shreds would be the key to healthy communication? There's still a long way to go for them but they've made up for now. Though upon learning Trepan - a mech with a very explicit reputation - was an Autobot, makes Sentinel a bit curious. He's been under the impression that their faction can do no wrong, but realizing this mech as committed atrocities that have been struck from the records, makes him wonder what else they've been hiding. (I like to believe that Sentinel genuinely believes in the Autobot cause, but he's so young and fully indoctrinated with the the wool pulled securely over his eyes, he's ignorant of the darker side of the Autobots. Trepan showing up is his glimpse behind the curtain. I don't hate Sentinel, he's a jerk and needs to learn his lesson, but I think he can be redeemed.)

Blackarachnia on the other hand, well, her mental state isn't the best, so she's probably gonna end up extremely conflicted once she learns that sweet, goody-two-shoes, Optimus is the son of two of the most terrifying mechs in the universe.

I'm sure I can figure out some way to reunite these three again. Sentinel's got a good start but Blackarachnia is gonna be tough.

Makes perfect sense, it's totally TFA Autobot of the autobots™️ to blame whatever Overlord and Trepan do currently on Optimus

Nice to see Optimus and Sentinel work something out... Even if it's under threat of two of the most terrifying mecha in the galaxy who just happen to be your friend turned rival's parents. Sentinel had to have been terrified lol

And you're right about Sentinel. He does honestly believe everything autobot wholeheartedly, especially after Archa Seven. This being a turning point in that could have interesting interesting results, especially as you put it tfa Sentinel imo too can be redeemed with careful work.

Yeahh BlackArachnia already had several reasons to be wary, but she's going to be Extra reevaluating her interactions with him after learning of his past before the academy. Though, considering their interactions in canon I think BlackArachnia is severely tempted to accept his help (at least that was the tone I saw in the show, with the whole tragedy angle— especially in the episode where she was working with meltdown and meltdown double crossed her) and considering bw BlackArachnia I feel like we'd definitely see her go through a redemption arc of her own (thought I don't see her becoming an autobot again. I've thought before about her declaring as neutral before though...) Her learning about Trepan and the worse sides of the autobots cannot help her opinions on them.

#i mean after all she had her redemption arc in bw too #hope my bit about BlackArachnia makes sense #maccadam #transformers #tfa blackarachnia #tfa optimus prime #tfa sentinel prime #tfa ultra magnus #tfa Overlord #trepan #overpan

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eepyuii · 1 year ago

Text

frostbite — pt. 4

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; brief mentions of drowning, fighting (?)

note ; i’m ngl i’m kinda proud of this chapter, i may have done the smidgenmost cooking. also i will be making a masterlist soon!!

previous | next | masterlist

liyue harbor looked its prettiest at night.

the lantern lights made the city’s colors pop out so much more. from afar, the harbor looked like it’s own galaxy of yellow stars or like a celestial being as lively as its nightlife. this isn’t even the first time you’ve thought this- zapolyarny palace also seemed infinitely more majestic when the lights turned on during the evening. it almost made you enjoy working late shifts.

almost.

unfortunately, aesthetics can’t sugarcoat the things the fatui has done and that you’ve been a witness to. the mass production of delusions, the robbery of gnoses and let’s not even get started on the things the doctor has done. even with eleven harbingers, who all have their fair share of unorthodox acts, don’t seem to rival the blasphemies your very boss has committed. blasphemies you’ve only watched, sitting neatly and keeping your mouth shut, and done nothing about. you’re only undeservingly grateful you weren’t present for the majority of his atrocities. but then again, who even were you to keep count of divine punishments you would never provide to the sinners who warranted them?

plus, now wasn’t the time to dwell on entirely so much.

if you stood lifelessly in the middle of the street for any longer, someone might get suspicious. you choose to head towards the coastal side of the harbor, merely observing the crowds walk back and forth between the street businesses. a few steps further and you reach a small street food restaurant- wanmin restaurant. the line of customers is concerningly big for such a time of day, you shiver to imagine what it’s like during lunch time.

the large, open window of the restaurant shows an older man attending to the customers with utmost friendliness and behind him, a younger blue-haired girl hurries from side to side as she rushes to ready the dishes. you see her look down and speak as if talking to someone incredibly short, so short that they’re entirely covered by the half wall of the window.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused by the sight- that is until the girl turns to you and panic invades her expression.

“guoba, wait! watch out for-“

before she finishes her sentence, you feel a faint thump against your leg. you look down to see… what in all honesty just looked like a teddy bear- except it seemed entirely alive and currently knocked over on the ground, paw wiping its little forehead as if it got hurt on the crash with your calf. next to it was also a small bag of mora, spilling over onto the sidewalk.

you hurry to gather up the coins and put them back in the bag before any slimy passerby could snatch them away while the girl steps over to help up the teddy bear.

“agh… i shouldn’t have sent you out to get groceries in such a hurry and you also need to watch where you go better!” she reprimands the creature, patting it down to smooth away any dirt.

“a-and i’m so very sorry! we’re overflowing with customers today and we were running out of oil so i thought i’d have guoba run to mr. dongsheng’s shop but i guess the pressure got him distracted…” she bows apologetically and the bear follows suit.

chuckling sheepishly, you wave the gesture off. “please, there’s no need for all that… it was just an accident after all.” you look down at the bag of mora in your hand.

“say, why don’t i go buy that oil for you? i’m not busy at the moment and you and… guoba clearly need all your attention on the food.”

her eyes light up as if the second coming of rex lapis has just occurred before her. “you’d do that? oh, that would be amazing! thank you so much…” she trails off as if waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.”

“y/n! thank you so much, y/n. i’m xiangling, by the way!”

the shop just around the corner from the restaurant and you dutifully wait in line to be attended by mr. dongsheng. you’re almost getting lost in thought until you hear an exclamation from nearby.

“x-xingqiu wait up!” what sounded like a young boy huffed out, sprinting from nearby. you turn to see exactly a young light-blue haired boy in white clothes rushing to catch up with another boy with darker blue hair in elegant navy garbs who was already waiting for him at the bridge to the outskirts of town.

“come on, you slowpoke!” the other boy giggles and as his friend is finally beside him, he abruptly grabs his wrist and pulls him along to run once more.

the display is so genuine and lighthearted that it even makes you chuckle fondly, makes you nostalgic for a simpler time.

you buy the oil and swiftly head back to wanmin restaurant, where xiangling is practically weeping with gratitude. “oh thank you, thank you, thank you! you’re a real lifesaver, please let me repay you- a whole evening of dishes on the house with whatever guests you’d like!” she bows once more.

“don’t sweat it… but i’ll hold you to that.” you nod amusedly and make your way out to leave xiangling and guoba to their arduous cooking.

your aimless wandering through the harbor takes you to the eastern side next, to the passageway between the pool of lotuses that leads to bubu pharmacy. you lean against the railing, watching intently as the fish swim aimlessly through the calm waters- then you turn to watch the people crossing the passageway, couples, families, childhood friends all enjoying the comfortable mundaneness of life.

turning even further, you spot a small girl sitting at the top of the staircase that leads to bubu pharmacy, you’ve seen her before behind the counter of the establishment… qiqi, was it? she sits at the edge of the elevated structure, facing the piers of the harbor as she watches with droopy eyes and what seemed to be a glass of milk in her hands.

the sleepiness in her expression reminds you of how late into the night it must be, urging you to head back to your quarters and get whatever sleep you can.

on your way up the stairs of the catwalks, you pass by heyu tea house, where an opera is taking place. the singer is a young girl, adorning traditional liyuean opera garbs that flow gracefully with the elegant twists and turns of the dance she performs. not to mention her unparalleled singing accompanied by the smooth sounds of a liyuean instrument, a guqin as you recall it- her voice so mesmerizing it nearly pulls all of the attention away from the heart wrenching tale it tells.

you’d heard stories about liyuean opera and how entirely different it was from the snezhnayan iterations, but none of the descriptions truly made justice to the fantastical spectacle you stumbled upon by luck. once again, you almost forget you were supposed to head to your dorm and rest.

unfortunately, rest is not for you.

you lay in your bed, eyes wide awake and fixated at the decorated ceiling as you recall all that you saw this evening. the liveliness of the common folk, xiangling and guoba, the two boys, the young girl from the pharmacy delighting in something as simple as a glass of milk, the opera performance. it’s all so human, so natural, simple, meaningful and so entirely precious. you’d made an enjoyable evening stroll just out of watching people… be people.

and you were going to drown it all in just a few days.

well, not as much you as childe was going to. but you didn’t do anything to counter it, not a peep of disagreement, not an act of defiance, not even an idea of an alternate solution. all because of some goddamn chess piece for the tsaritsa’s stupid plan. a pang of forced guilt hits your heart- you’d be surely decapitated in the town square for saying such things about her grace, or thinking rather. but that’s not how you feel, you’d care less about not criticizing an archon if they were truly being stupid.

but that’s how childe feels.

he reveres the tsaritsa blindly more than anyone you know. you needed to speak to him, first thing tomorrow.

surely he wouldn’t mind pulling out of his ingenious, but foolishly dangerous, plan just for you?

—

they say early bird gets the worm yet here you remain, up at the ass crack of dawn with no worm to speak of. if you were slightly less exhausted at the moment, you would’ve caught onto ekaterina’s look of sheer pity towards you.

“good morning, sergeant! how may i help you?” she greets politely.

“mmh.. yes, morning…” you mumble back, pinching the bridge of your nose. “would you know where childe is right now?”

“i believe childe is currently exercising outside of the harbor. would you like to leave a message for him?”

“no no- no need, i’ll just go to him myself. where exactly outside of town is he?”

“childe usually likes to train up in the mountains behind yujing terrace, he took a few officers to train alongside him so it won’t be difficult to spot the group.” you nod and mutter a curt ‘thank you’ to her. your feet feel like they’ve got pure geo constructs tied to them but you manage to make it to the door of northland bank- though before you get to make your way out, you hear ekaterina call out to you.

“i would advise you to bring a weapon, sergeant! knowing how stubborn childe is.”

chuckling at the indirect jab toward childe that she delivers, you only materialize your polearm with the power of your vision, the only instance you’ll ever use it.

“don’t i know it.”

sometimes you wonder if childe is even human- the mere climb to the mountains behind yujing terrace was enough exercise to last you a week or so. once you settled upon the mountain top, heaving as if death were at your doorstep, you take in your surroundings to spot a small group of men in the distance, gathered in a circle that and facing away from you. a few more minutes of walking reveal that they are in fact clad in fatui uniform and the sound of grunts, thuds and the ever despair-inducing sound of the eleventh harbinger’s maniacal laughter.

you join the circle silently, eyes sharp and cold, to watch as childe effortlessly topples over a low-rank officer. a little more observation would show that this poor man wasn’t the first one to receive such treatment, as all the other men look over with sheer horror in their eyes and dirt clinging to their uniforms- all while childe’s clothes remain spotless and neat. said terrified men notice your sudden presence and scurry to salute you properly with trembling arms while you merely gesture for them to be at ease.

“so! who would like to go next?” the harbinger calls out obliviously only to be met with shameful silence. he scans the whole circle like a bloodthirsty predator, though once he finally turns around to see you there, his eyes seem to gain a different light. if they can even attain any.

“y/n! to what do we owe the pleasure to have you here?” he laughs, raising a hand to gesture to you while facing the other officers. “gentlemen, sergeant y/n of the medical division.”

the officers almost immediately salute you once more and you sigh. “please, at ease.”

“truly impeccable timing, doc! i’ve just sparred one-on-one with each one of these officers to teach them a thing or two about combat. though… i might’ve gone a little too hard, plus they might learn better through observing rather than getting shoved around one by one. so why don’t the two of us spar?”

you put up a hand to stop him. “yeah yeah, unfortunately i’m not here to rumble. i’ve got something i’d like to discuss with y-“

“aw, come on! this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for these gentlemen!” childe whines.

“i really would rather not, it’s a bit of an important matter that i want to sort out-“

“it’ll be quick! just one round.”

“i didn’t sleep well last night plus-“

“then a spar is just the way to get the blood pumping!”

“can we please just talk for a few minutes and then you can go back to-“

slash.

where you expected to receive another interruption from childe was instead the sharp tip of a hydro blade right beside your head, narrowingly missing you by a hair. the officers gasp dramatically, while you practically stab childe with the incredulous glare you throw him. even worse, the asshole only smirks playfully as if it was just a playground game.

being on the other side of his blade is famously not unfamiliar to you.

you summon your polearm without thinking and swing it angrily from right to left, hoping only to get the hydro sword away from you. childe does exactly as you predict and steps back expertly to dodge your spear, bearing the widest grin. what ensues next is a tiring back and forth between the two of you- childe hits, you hit back to defend yourself, childe hits back harder. the men watch intently as if watching the most intense play of their lives. it’s probably after a good eight minutes of fighting that your arms start growing weary from how tightly you’re holding onto your weapon and your legs get even sorer than they were from how much you climbed. this is getting stupid.

you put all your focus into finding an opening in childe’s strikes to overtake him, finding it within his next attack, where he switches his grip on the twin blades so the sharp sides face outward and he brings his arms together to create momentum for a double-sided swing that covers the entire of his front. in the millisecond that his hands are next to each other, you send a wave of frigid air that freezes the entirety of his swords and bites at his fingers in a way that makes him hiss and drop the weapons on instinct.

as the icy blades collide with the ground, they shatter into a million glittering shards. childe looks down, half-shocked half-amused at the display and laughs once more. he continues to stare at the ground, any trace of his swords is entirely gone- though it’s no matter, as hydro is already swirling down his wrists as he prepares a new set.

“hah… the fun finally begi-“

before he can finish his taunt, you’re tackling him onto the ground, taking advantage of his distraction. you kneel with one knee up, the other is latched firmly beside childe’s torso, and press your polearm firmly across his arms as to restrain him. the fatui officers are practically losing their minds at this point.

“enough.” you huff out with a snarl, chest heaving up and down violently.

childe is finally, truly at a loss for words. he looks up at you as if you’re the most divine being he’s ever seen and the halo of sunlight that forms around you really doesn’t help. though, you only interpret it as him simply being so surprised that someone finally beat him. after a few seconds of remaining in the position, you take it childe has surrendered and stand up and away from him.

you dust off your clothes and utter without looking up. “leave. all of you.” the men sprint out of the scene like startled rabbits.

“now can we talk?”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

Text

Si Vis Amari Ama

V. Revelations

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Once again, I apologize for how long it’s taken me to update this series. This chapter went through a lot of revisions, but it opens the door for a lot of events that will happen later in the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, discussion of atrocities committed in the past, allusions to physical abuse, references to injuries and gladiatorial combat, mentions of death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

Baking had always been one of your favorite chores, from the time you were a little girl. It reminded you of your mother and the hours the two of you would spend in the kitchen together, laughing and singing songs. Mater had always smelled of the flour that constantly dusted her cheeks and fingers, paired with the smoky tang of ashes from the baking stone. It was a scent that was all her own, and one that you missed more than anything in this world.

You were reminded of her every time your nimble fingers worked to knead fresh dough or shape the loaves for baking, which was why you had been thrilled when you and Phoenix were assigned to kitchen duties this morning.

With the household being as large as it was, the kitchen was always a beehive of activity, particularly this early in the morning. And the queen bee of this hive was Alba, an older Germanic woman who had been serving the Cornelius family since the time your dominus was a boy. A stern woman with a face that hardly smiled and brooked no argument, she ran the kitchen with an efficiency that rivaled the government officials of Emperor Domitian and she had little time for laziness or foolery. On more than one occasion, you had seen her reduce several of the girls to tears for not working up to her exacting standards.

As of yet, you and Phoenix had managed to avoid displeasing her, so whenever you were assigned to work in the kitchen, the two of you were normally entrusted with tasks that left you in relative peace. Right now, that meant that the both of you were settled in the small courtyard behind the kitchen, manning the ovens used for baking the sourdough bread that sustained the majority of the household, from Dominus and Domina all the way down to the lowliest slave.

You and Phoenix had been working together for the past hour in companionable silence, Phoenix stoking the flames that burned beneath each testum, the earthenware pots used for baking, while you shaped the dough into flattened rounds and carefully placed them onto the baking stones. It was a tricky business, baking bread, especially bread that had to pass Alba’s strict inspection. If the dough wasn’t left to bake long enough, it would remain sticky and undercooked, but if you left it for too long unattended, it would char and taste like ash. You had to wait until that perfect moment when the edges started to curl up from the stone just slightly, the top of the loaf a golden brown. Then it was ready.

Humming softly underneath your breath, you pinched off another mound of dough and quickly molded it before carefully placing it on an open baking stone, cautious not to burn your fingers. Noticing that one of the other loaves you’d set down earlier was ready, you peeled it off gently and left it to cool with the others. Stretching your arms over your head, you felt your joints pop and you let out a small sigh of relief as you pressed a fist into your lower back.

One thing about baking bread was that it required you to spend a great deal of time hunched over the ovens, which could be brutal on your back.

“Almost done, I think,” you told Phoenix, who looked up at you with an almost startled expression when you spoke. Your friend had looked preoccupied all morning, her mind clearly somewhere else as you worked. “With the bread, I mean,” you clarified, indicating all the loaves you had already baked. It would be enough for now, at least until dinner that evening.

“Oh, yes,” Phoenix nodded, laughing softly, though the laughter didn’t touch her eyes. “I think it will meet with Alba’s approval,” she grinned, rising from her spot on the ground and rubbing her own sore back.

“I hope so,” you replied with a smile, beginning to gather up the ready loaves and arranging them into baskets to carry back inside.

“Hmm, an expert healer and a master baker,” Phoenix mused, a small smile tugging at her lips as she pretended to scrutinize the bread. “Is there anything you cannot do, my sweet friend?”

Embarrassed by her praise, you shook your head and waved her off. “Plenty,” you retorted, kneeling down once more to check on the remaining loaves. “My mother taught me how to bake when I was very small,” you explained, gently prodding at one browning loaf to assess its progress. “It was something we always enjoyed doing together. I don’t remember much about my childhood anymore, but I do remember that,” you confessed softly, feeling a knot of emotion unfurl inside your chest. “Sometimes, when I’m baking, I hum the songs she used to sing to me, and it’s almost like I can feel her wrapping her arms around me again, guiding my hands and showing me what to do.”

Phoenix knelt beside you, a look of deep compassion and understanding on her face as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Words weren’t needed, which was what you had always appreciated about her friendship. She could say so much without ever uttering a word.

“You’ve never talked much about your childhood,” she said slowly, after a few moments of quiet.

“No, I haven’t,” you conceded, watching as the bread slowly curled away from the baking stone and quickly snatching it up before it burned. “But neither have you,” you added, raising your brows in a pointed expression as you looked over at her.

“Point well taken,” Phoenix laughed, sweeping away the ash from the fires as you collected the rest of the bread. She sighed then, a heavy sound that came from deep within her chest. “I don’t think too often of home anymore,” she admitted, brushing her sooty fingers on her tunic without a care for how Domina would react. “It hurts too much.”

“I understand,” you murmured with a nod, knowing exactly how she felt. It was painful to dwell too long on what had been, considering how both your childhoods had been so violently cut short.

Phoenix glanced over her shoulder at you, her dark eyes still and thoughtful as she seemed to consider something for a moment. Then she walked over to you, sitting you down on the bench behind you and taking the spot next to you.

“Have I ever told you the name of the island where I was born?” she asked, the early morning sun glinting off her dark hair as she gazed at you expectantly.

You shook your head. You knew that Phoenix had been born in Greece, but nothing more. You had learned over the years not to press anyone you worked with about their past. In a world where everything had been taken from you, the story of who you were, of where you had come from and of the dreams you’d once held dear, was the one thing that was still yours, the one treasure you could keep locked away inside your heart where not even the cruelest master could reach it. It was an unspoken rule among the enslaved that you didn’t try to pry that gift out of anyone’s hands unless they chose to bestow it upon you.

Phoenix took a deep breath, twisting her hands in her lap. Reaching over, you covered her hands with your own and offered her a soothing smile.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you assured her, knowing better than anyone that it was never easy to talk about the past.

“No, I want to,” Phoenix insisted, squeezing your hand as she straightened her spine. “Sabina, you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had. You’re like the sister I always wanted. I want you to know where I’ve come from.”

Touched, you swallowed back your emotion and smiled encouragingly, waiting in patient silence to let her begin. You would give her all the time and space that she needed.

“I was born on the island of Melos,” Phoenix began, glancing up at the sun as if imagining the place of her birth. “It’s a small island in the Aegean, right near Crete. It’s so beautiful there. The water is so blue, like nothing you’ve ever seen before,” she breathed out, her dark eyes growing filmy with memory.

“It sounds wonderful,” you said softly, trying to conjure up an image of it in your mind. Rome was all you had ever known, and the Tiber River was certainly not the bluest water you had ever seen.

“My people were fishermen,” she went on, smiling sadly at the thought of her family. “My father had his own boat, and he was good at what he did. My family always lived comfortably, and we always had enough of everything we needed. I had four older brothers, and they were all learning the trade of our father.” She glanced downward for a moment, trying to compose herself. “My mother always wanted me at home, helping with the chores, but I wanted to be on the sea, with my father and my brothers. My father used to joke that perhaps I was really a sea nymph and not their daughter.”

You smiled at that, feeling a pang in your heart for the close relationship your friend had shared with her family, and for the losses she had inevitably faced.

“When I was around four or five years old,” Phoenix continued, “my father started to take me with him on his boat. I used to stand at the bow and spread my arms out wide and pretend that I was flying. Have you ever been on a boat, Sabina?”

You shook your head, biting down on your lower lip. “No,” you admitted, though she made it sound so wonderful. “No, I’ve never left Rome.”

“Maybe one day,” she smiled, taking your hand in hers and squeezing. “I loved being on my father’s boat. No matter what was going on, I always wanted to go with him. One time I was playing with my brothers and I fell and broke my arm, but even then, I still tried to follow him out to the sea,” she recalled, laughing at the memory. “He called me his little phoenix, because he said that no matter what happened, I always managed to rise back up again from the ashes.” Her lashes were wet as she turned to look at you. “When they brought me to this city and made me give them my name, I told them it was Phoenix. I swore to myself that no matter what happened, I was going to keep rising again, just like my father said.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you gasped softly, hugging your friend tightly as her tears started to fall. You had never seen her so emotional before, so open and vulnerable. You wanted to do whatever you could to comfort her and shield her from the pains of this life.

“No one knows what my real name is,” Phoenix told you, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “What my parents and my brothers called me.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you told her, not wanting her to feel that she had to divulge all her secrets.

“It’s Nyx,” she said without missing a beat. “My parents said that when I was born, my hair was as black as midnight, so they named me for the goddess of night.”

“That’s beautiful,” you smiled. It suited her. “But you’ll always be Phoenix to me, my brave friend who rises from the ashes,” you added, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and hugging her.

She smiled at that, sniffling softly as she rested her head against yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You weren’t sure if there was any more of her story that Phoenix wanted to share, but you wouldn’t push either way. It was her story to tell, how and when she wanted to.

As if sensing your thoughts, Phoenix suddenly sat upright and looked at you again. “I was eight years old when the Romans ransacked our island. We already belonged to the empire. I’ll never understand why they couldn’t just leave us in peace,” she whispered hoarsely, swallowing back her tears.

Your heart sank like a stone, dreading what she would tell you next.

“They killed all the men,” Phoenix said, covering her mouth with her hand as she clearly struggled with the memory of that day. “The boys, too, if they were old enough. My father and my brothers—they put them all to the sword,” she sobbed, her shoulders trembling as you held onto her. “They burned my father’s boat, our homes, everything. The women and the children they loaded up onto their ships and they brought us here in chains, like we were nothing. Like our lives were worth nothing more than a sack of grain or an amphora of wine.” She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself down. “The last time I ever saw my mother was that day at the slave market. A merchant from Egypt bought her and they just dragged her away from me. We were both screaming and crying, but the traders didn’t care. They told me to shut up and get back in line. To this day, I don’t know what ever became of her. But I want to believe that she’s safe, that she’s okay.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, tears streaming down your cheeks as you held your friend’s hands tightly in your own. “Oh, Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you told her, your body hot with shame that your own people had wreaked such havoc and destruction in the lives of so many.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Phoenix said firmly, wiping your tears away with one hand even as she wiped away her own. “Look at us, a couple of bawling messes.” She looked into your eyes, smiling through her pain. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken about my family. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad that I did. Thank you for listening to me.”

“You would do the same for me,” you told her sincerely, knowing without a doubt that it was true.

“In a heartbeat,” Phoenix nodded. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’m here for you and I’m all ears,” she promised.

“Another time,” you murmured softly, patting her arm. It had already been a heavy enough morning, and the both of you would be in trouble if you didn’t get this bread back to the kitchen soon.

“There you two are,” Hrodebert announced in relief, suddenly appearing in the entryway of the courtyard. “Alba’s grumbling about how long you’re taking out here, but I think I managed to smooth things over,” he said with a crooked grin. With him and the old cook both being from Germania and sharing the same mother tongue, Hrodebert had managed to secure one of the limited soft spots in Alba’s heart, which he was sometimes able to work to the advantage of others.

“Such a grump that old woman is,” Phoenix huffed, wiping one last time at her eyes before she rose from the bench and pulled you up with her. “We’re coming, we’re coming.”

As he stepped closer and got a better look at your faces, Hrodebert seemed to realize that something significant had passed between the two of you and he looked between you apologetically. “That’s actually not the only reason I was coming to find you.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Phoenix tried to hide a smile as she nudged his arm playfully. “What is it now?”

“Titus is on his way to perform the physical inspections of all the gladiators,” Hrodebert explained, glancing over at you and noting your confused expression. “It happens every six months or so. Dominus wants to ensure that his gladiators are in top fighting form at all times, so he makes sure that they have physical evaluations at least twice a year.”

“And let me guess, the old man wants us to assist him,” Phoenix interjected, her voice filled with an undeniable affection for the medicus.

Hrodebert couldn’t help but smile at that, nodding. “Precisely. But you know it takes a while, so he said he wants them fed before he starts the inspections so they don’t start their grumbling. I’ve already sent some other girls over to feed the newer recruits, but can you two deliver breakfast to the Pugiones?”

“Of course,” you nodded, trying to mask how eager you felt. Domina had been keeping you busy around the household these past couple days, so you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get over to the ludus. It had been a few days now since you’d last seen Gallus and you were shocked by just how much you missed his brooding presence.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you nearly missed the silent exchange that passed between Hrodebert and Phoenix, some unspoken conversation that had Phoenix looking a bit flustered. You raised a curious brow as you glanced between them, but knew it was better not to say anything.

“Come, Sabina,” Phoenix muttered quickly, helping you snatch up the baskets of bread you’d prepared and leading you back into the kitchen.

Alba gave a grumpy grunt of approval when she saw the loaves you’d baked, eyeing both you and Phoenix irritably. At least you were saved from a more severe tongue-lashing thanks to Hrodebert’s intervention. “There,” she stated bluntly, pointing at a large pot of bean stew, which was what the men of the ludus typically ate most mornings before their training bouts. Beside it was a small stack of earthen bowls on a wooden tray. “And take this,” she added, shoving one basket of bread into your hands.

Knowing it was no use to argue with Alba or give her any sort of attitude, you and Phoenix simply nodded and were off as quickly as possible, Phoenix hefting the pot of stew while you carried the tray with the bowls and bread.

“A woman’s work is never done, huh?” Phoenix teased, winking at you as you both crossed the barrier between the villa and the ludus.

“Never,” you grinned, feeling a small thrill rush through you once you stepped foot on the training grounds. Even after only a few days away, it felt nice to be back again.

As much as Gallus may have occasionally enjoyed his fellow gladiators’ company—in reasonable doses—they were starting to drive him crazy this morning. They’d all been dragged out of bed even earlier than usual, put through their paces of independent exercises before being informed that Titus was arriving shortly to conduct his physical examinations of every man in the ludus.

It felt ridiculous at this point, that the Pugiones needed to go through a whole show of being examined. Everyone knew that they were the fittest fighters in Rome, so it seemed pointless that Atticus made them perform this charade every few months.

Scattered among the training compound in the already hot sun, all of the men seemed cranky and tired, muttering to themselves or picking fights with one another.

But no one was crankier than Gallus. He’d been on edge these past few days, his mood shifting like the undercurrent of a storm, his frustration building up inside him like that of the caged lions and tigers they kept chained up in the labyrinth beneath the Colosseum.

No one dared say anything, but from the sideways glances they shot him whenever Titus or Phoenix arrived at the ludus without you by their sides, he knew they could all tell what was eating at him.

Where were you?

It had been three days now since he had last seen you and he felt like he was going insane. Phoenix assured him that Aurelia was just keeping you busy in the villa, but he needed to be able to see for himself that you were okay. That bruise on your wrist hadn’t been the last mark he’d seen on you, and it made his blood boil to think that even now, that miserable bitch was causing you even an ounce of pain.

Flexing his fists and breathing deeply through his nostrils, Gallus gritted his teeth and tried to drown out the conversation that was going on around him, pacing around the perimeter of the compound irritably.

“I’m starving,” Felix groaned, lying flat on his back on the small patch of grass beside the training grounds where the Pugiones practiced. He clutched his stomach like a dying man, sighing dramatically.

“Says the one who stole two servings of dinner last night,” Pollux smirked, dumping a handful of grass onto his fellow gladiator’s face.

“Hey!” Felix sputtered, sitting up and wiping the blades of grass out of his face with a grin. “I didn’t steal anything! I can’t help it if Flavia from the kitchens thinks I’m cute,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t think you’re cute, she thinks you’re puny,” Caius jumped in, laughing as he prodded Felix’s leg with a sandaled foot. “She’s trying to fatten you up so you don’t get slaughtered in your next contest.”

“Slaughtered?” Felix scoffed, feigning offense as he jumped to his feet. “I’d like to see any man try. You just so happen to be looking at the greatest retiarius in all of Rome,” he smirked, bouncing lightly on his feet as he took playful jabs at Caius.

Caius smirked in return, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oh, I’m really scared, fisherman,” he joked, deftly blocking all of Felix’s pretend hits.

“You should be,” Phoenix called out, startling both men. “Fishermen are some of the bravest men I know.”

Everyone’s heads, including Gallus’, whipped in the direction of Phoenix’s voice.

Carnifex nearly tripped in his effort to rise from the low wall where he’d been lounging lazily, the long blade of dry grass that had been stuck between his teeth falling to the ground in his haste.

Gallus barely noticed because just as his line of focus zeroed in on Phoenix, he caught sight of you following right behind her and he felt his heart begin hammering inside his chest.

There you were. You were okay, at least from what he could tell at this distance. Aurelia hadn’t been able to keep you away this time. Mouth suddenly feeling dry, he managed to get his feet moving, bringing him closer to you with every step. And when he saw that your eyes were on him, a small smile gracing your lips, he moved all the faster, feeling inexplicably drawn to you in a way that he still couldn’t comprehend.

“Alright, Pugiones, fall in line,” Phoenix called out, setting down a large pot of what smelled like—unsurprisingly—bean stew. “You’re only going to get your breakfast if you’re all on your best behavior,” she smirked, resting a hand on her hip.

“No cutting! I’m first!” Felix exclaimed, running to stand in front of Phoenix with an eager grin on his face.

“See? Look how quick on his feet he is! You all could learn a thing or two,” Phoenix laughed, winking playfully at Felix.

Pollux and Caius rolled their eyes, but chuckled as they fell in line behind Felix, followed by Carnifex and Gallus in the rear.

Gallus couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you began moving down the line of men, handing each of them a bowl with a smile and a kind word of greeting.

“Nice to see you again, Sabina,” Pollux told you, grinning as he accepted his bowl. “We’ve missed you around here these past few days.”

“I’ve missed you all, too,” you murmured, almost shyly, which made Gallus’ chest tighten with the overwhelming need to protect you and make sure that no harm ever befell you.

When you finally came to the end of the line and looked up at him, he was embarrassed by the way that his breath caught in his throat. What had you done to him?

“Hello, Gallus,” you greeted him, your voice sounding so small as you held out a bowl to him.

He stared at it for a moment, as if not comprehending why you were giving it to him. Coming to his senses, however, he shook his head and reached out to take it from you, a jolt of lightning shooting up his arm as your fingers brushed against his. “Hello, Sabina,” he murmured in response.

“How have you been?” you asked, averting your gaze and staring down at your bare feet. He didn’t fail to notice the way you twisted your fingers in the folds of your tunic, a nervous habit. He had grown so accustomed to examining his opponents in the arena over the years and taking their measure in an instant that there wasn’t a single move you made that escaped his attention.

“Fine.” he replied, hating how sharp and short his words sounded. He was so used to being a brute, but he didn’t want to be one with you. Trying to soften his tone slightly, he said, “I’ve been fine. How have you been?” His eyes quickly scanned your arms for any visible signs of Aurelia’s brutality. He noted one small bruise near your elbow, which made him grit his teeth and tighten his grip on the bowl you’d handed him, but otherwise you looked to be physically unharmed.

“I’ve been fine, too,” you replied, glancing up at him and piercing him with a small smile.

“Good. That’s good,” Gallus murmured, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, which made a growing sense of panic rise within him.

He was saved at that moment, however, when Phoenix called out to him, “Come on, Gallus. We haven’t got all morning.” She tapped her foot against the ground, feigning impatience as he sheepishly shuffled forward for his breakfast. “There you are,” she said, scooping a hearty helping of the bean stew into his bowl. “And take a round of bread, too. Sabina made it just this morning,” she added with a knowing grin.

He could feel his ears growing hot at his friend’s pointed comment, quickly snatching up a small loaf of bread and mumbling his thanks before turning to look for a place to sit down.

“Why don’t you ask Sabina to sit with you?” Phoenix asked in a low voice, grinning slyly. “Titus wants us to help with the physicals, so we’ll be here all morning,” she told him, merriment sparkling in those dark eyes of hers.

With that, she sauntered off to sit with the rest of the Pugiones, taking a spot in between Caius and Carnifex.

Clearing his throat, Gallus slowly approached you, noting the way you looked like a skittish deer as you clearly debated what you were supposed to do without Phoenix right by your side. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the friendship the two of you shared. He knew that Phoenix looked out for you, and it was good for her to have a friend in the household as well, one she could trust the way she clearly trusted you.

“Would you, um, like to sit down…with me?” Gallus asked awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. Could he sound any more like a giant oaf?

Your eyes widened a fraction as you looked up at him, but you nodded your head, following behind him as he found a comfortable spot for the two of you on the grass, just a few feet away from where the others were sitting. Felix was loudly rejoicing about how good the stew was.

Starving after an early morning of exercises, Gallus began to swallow down the stew quickly, though he flushed in embarrassment when he noticed the way you were politely averting your gaze, picking at the grass near your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, lowering his bowl and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I really am a barbarian, aren’t I? I’m not used to eating my meals in front of a lady,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and chest burned red.

“Oh, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Please, enjoy your breakfast. Don’t take any pains on my account. I’m not a lady. I’m just a slave,” you said, lifting one shoulder in a meek shrug.

His heart broke for you in that moment because he could tell that you really believed what you said. There was no guile in your tone, no self-pity or victimhood. You had resigned yourself to this life, to the way most people saw you. You had accepted it.

But he wouldn’t.

“No,” he said firmly, waiting until he had your full attention before he went on. “You’re a lady, Sabina. Don’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.”

You seemed embarrassed at that, lowering your head so that your hair shielded part of your face, hiding it from view. But he caught, for just the briefest moment, a tiny smile curving your lips and he felt more triumphant than all the times he’d been declared the victor in the arena.

“Thank you, Gallus,” you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips warming him from the inside out.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he changed the subject, lifting up the small loaf of bread he’d taken with his stew. “Phoenix said you baked the bread this morning,” he noted, tearing off a piece and taking a bite. He didn’t think he’d ever tasted sourdough so good before in his life. “It’s delicious,” he complimented, his words ringing with sincerity.

“Thank you,” you murmured again, looking pleased. “My mother taught me how to make bread when I was a little girl,” you told him, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure she would be very proud of what you’ve made today,” he told you truthfully, taking another bite.

“I hope so,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip. Your voice had gone much softer now. “She’s gone now.”

He felt the bread lodge in his throat, suddenly tasting like a stone. What had he been thinking, saying something so stupid as that? Feeling like an apology wouldn’t be adequate, he instead said, “Mine, too.”

His eyes met yours and he could see a flicker of empathy there, of understanding. “I’m sorry.” The words, so trite from anyone else, sounded like a cooling balm coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured, feeling closer to you at that moment than he had with anybody else in a very long time.

Glancing down at the half-eaten food still resting in his lap, it suddenly dawned on him that you were sitting there empty-handed. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten enough today?” he asked, feeling once again like a giant oaf.

You waved away his concern with one hand, smiling slightly. “I had something this morning,” you assured him. Something about the way you said it, however, made him feel like you were evading the question.

“But are you hungry?” he repeated, indicating the large pot of stew that still rested on the grass behind him.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head. He didn’t fail to notice the way your lower lip caught between your teeth. “That food is for the gladiators.”

Ah, so that was it. You’d been told you couldn’t eat the food that was prepared for the men of the ludus. Frowning, he tore off a huge hunk of the bread you yourself had made and handed it to you. “Eat,” he told you.

“Gallus, really, I don’t—”

“Eat,” he said again, his tone brooking no argument. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you sighed, but slowly began nibbling on the bread. You were trying to hide it, but he could sense that you were much hungrier than you had been letting on.

“If you’re ever hungry, you can take the food right off my plate,” he said suddenly, looking directly into your eyes as he spoke. “I mean it. They give me more than I can eat anyway.”

“I suppose they need their champion well fed,” you replied, rewarding him with a smile that could have rivaled the sun.

He smiled in return. It felt like a long time since he had last done that. “I suppose so,” he conceded. “But a lady deserves her fill, too.”

You giggled at his words, and he felt his chest puff up with pride. It felt like a private joke now that the two of you shared, something that only you and he would understand. He liked that. He liked that very much.

The two of you sat together in comfortable silence for a while, Gallus enjoying simply being in your presence. He finished his bean stew, while you took small bites of bread. Occasionally, snatches of conversation from the others would float over towards you, but Gallus was more than happy to stay lost in this little private world, just you and him.

“That’s healing quite nicely,” you said suddenly, pointing at the long scar now running across his chest—the injury that had first brought your worlds colliding together. The skin was still a bit raised and tender to the touch in certain spots, but it was healing over as well as could be expected, given the nature of it. “Titus really is a master medicus.”

“Just don’t let him hear you say that,” Gallus whispered conspiratorially, a hint of humor sparking to life in his dark eyes. “He already thinks he knows everything and loves to boss us around. I shudder to think what your praise would do to him.”

Your praise, he had come to realize, would be enough to bring a dying man back from the brink of the Underworld.

“He might end up as cocky as Carnifex,” you teased, the playfulness in your tone catching him off guard as much as your words did.

Stunned, Gallus let out a loud laugh, which caught the startled attention of the others for a moment. He so rarely laughed that it was a sound everyone, himself included, was unaccustomed to.

“Phoenix is starting to rub off on you, I see,” he chuckled, lowering his voice.

“Maybe a little bit,” you grinned, nodding your head.

The both of you glanced over to where the others were still sitting, engaged in some conversation that had them all particularly animated. Gallus couldn’t help but notice the way Carnifex had wedged himself closer to Phoenix’s side, their knees brushing together. And Phoenix was doing nothing to push him away. A small furrow developed between his brows as he frowned, but he was distracted from wondering further about what was happening between them when your voice suddenly brought him back to the present moment.

“What happened here?”

Turning his head, he was a bit startled to see that you had moved closer to him, just a handbreadth away from him now. He was trained to sense even the smallest movements around him. How had you managed to be so stealthy that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching? Your movements were so delicate and light, like the fluttering of a dove’s wings.

Torn away from his private musings, he realized that you were indicating a large bruise on his shoulder, the dark purple of his mottled skin slowly giving way to a yellowish-green.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured you, brushing it off. “I got hit with a shield the other day during a practice bout. Pollux is a fierce opponent,” he said, admiration coloring his voice as he spoke of his fellow Pugio.

“You respect them,” you said, your hands resting in your lap as you looked at him straight on. It was a statement, not a question. “Your fellow gladiators, I mean.”

“Of course,” Gallus nodded, setting his empty bowl down in the grass beside him. “Even my opponents. I know that none of us chose this life. We’re all just doing what we must to survive. I can’t begrudge a man doing all he can to cling to his life.”

He noticed the shudder that ran down your spine, didn’t fail to pick up on the way your chin dipped downward and you began picking at a loose thread on your tunic. “It must be hard,” you murmured, your voice so low he almost missed what you said. “Having to—having to take a man’s life just to keep your own.”

Swallowing, he nodded his head once, sharply. “It never gets any easier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your hand reached out and came to rest over his, your delicate fingers pressing warmth into his large, scarred ones.

He suddenly found it very hard to breathe, or to form a coherent thought. But he managed to gruffly mutter, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I’m sorry all the same,” you countered, piercing him once more with those large, innocent eyes of yours.

You would be the death of him.

The private little world the two of you had been occupying was all too soon invaded by the sound of Titus’ arrival, everyone scrambling to clean up the remains of their morning meal when they realized that Atticus had come with the medicus, evidently wanting to oversee the examinations himself.

He always did keep a careful eye on his investments, Gallus thought with disgust.

Phoenix quickly dusted herself off and grabbed you by the hand, the two of you keeping your heads down and your mouths shut, doing whatever Titus asked of you.

It was a long morning, the evaluations feeling even more thorough and intense than they usually were. Gallus’ frown grew deeper as he heard Atticus bark orders at Titus, forcing the old man to push the gladiators even harder, nearly to the breaking point for some of the newer recruits.

You and Phoenix were providing water to the men, and a soft word of encouragement when Atticus was out of hearing range. No matter where you were, Gallus’ eyes sought you out, following you around the compound like a hapless beggar, desperate for even a glimpse of you.

When he turned and caught sight of Atticus staring intently at him, however, he stiffened and hardened his expression, standing up straight and gazing ahead with a look of feigned disinterest.

Atticus knew better than just about anybody how to sniff out weaknesses and exploit them for his own gain. Gallus had seen him do it time and time again in the years since he’d been forced into his ludus. It had always been easy for him to make sure that Atticus never found any weakness in him, mainly because he cared so little whether he lived or died. There was nothing, he thought, that Atticus could take from him that hadn’t already been taken, nothing he could hold over his head.

Until now.

Atticus was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. And if he had noticed the way Gallus had been watching you, then nothing would stop him from sussing out what you were coming to mean to him.

He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Gallus might not be able to protect you from Aurelia’s clutches in the villa, but he would protect you from Atticus’ schemes.

For the rest of that morning and into the afternoon, Gallus pointedly avoided meeting your gaze or looking in your general direction at all. Let Atticus believe him to be completely indifferent to you, just as he had been completely indifferent to all the other pretty slave girls that had been paraded in front of him throughout the years. It was the best way—the only way—to keep you safe.

But late at night, as he lay alone in his bed, his thoughts were consumed by you and only you. That longing, that ache, that had so often plagued him in the middle of the night—the one he thought he had long since rooted out of his heart—was back with a vengeance, screaming out to him in agony.

And when he did finally manage to fall into a fitful sleep, he dreamed of nothing but the feel of soft, delicate hands, their touch as gentle as the flutter of a dove’s wings.

As the days and weeks passed, he realized that the only time he knew peace was when he looked upon your face.

Only you quieted the desperation screaming inside him.

Only you.

The next few weeks passed in relative peace within the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. Dominus and Domina had been attending parties on the Palatine more frequently, often until the early hours of the morning, which meant that Domina in particular had less time for tormenting the household servants.

It also meant that you and Phoenix, as well as the others, had a bit more freedom to come and go as you pleased around the villa once all your chores were done. As the stewards of the household, Hrodebert and the other men who ran things were always conscious to make sure that everything was kept up to your master’s exacting standards, but they were also more than willing to turn the other way when those who had performed their duties sought a small break.

For you and Phoenix, it meant that you had the ability to spend more time with your friends in the ludus without worrying about the watchful eye and jealous rage of Domina.

In the time since you had started working more regularly in and around the ludus, your friendship with the Pugiones had grown stronger and stronger. Where you had once been terrified to go near gladiators, now you found yourself counting the fiercest fighters in Rome among your closest friends and protectors. They were like the older brothers you had never had. Seeing the way that Phoenix interacted with them, and knowing now that she had lost her own brothers, you knew she felt the same.

You loved them all, but you would be lying if you said that each time you stepped foot onto the ludus’ grounds, your eyes didn’t immediately seek out one above all the others.

Gallus.

In the weeks since the two of you had sat together over his breakfast, your relationship with the famed gladiator had continued to grow in ways that set your heart aflutter. You’d been concerned that day of the physical examinations, when Gallus had refused to even look at you after you’d shared such a personal revelations with one another, but the next time you’d seen him, with none around but Titus and the others, he’d smiled at you once more and you felt yourself breathing easier again.

With Dominus and Domina being more frequently occupied outside the household, it gave you and Gallus more opportunities to speak with one another over the meals you served him or while you were tending to his injuries. You found that you were no longer afraid to share your thoughts with him, and you were pleased to discover that his smiles and laughter were becoming more frequent.

At night, when you came to deliver his evening meal to his cell, you even managed to sit with him for a little while, when Atticus and Aurelia were out of the house.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked one night, the first time he had ever done so. Normally, you just dropped off his meal with a smile and then hurried back to the villa with Phoenix. “Just for a little while,” he quickly amended, blushing. You could tell he didn’t want you to think he intended for you to spend the night with him, which made your own skin grow warm.

Since your master and mistress were out for the evening, you nodded and stepped inside, keeping him company as he ate.

“I figured I could still use some more practice, eating in front of a lady,” he told you with a small, lopsided grin that warmed your heart.

After that night, whenever Atticus and Aurelia were out for the evening, you sat with him in his cell, the two of you talking of nothing and everything as he ate his dinner, his table manners growing more civilized with each passing visit.

“I think you’ve finally mastered eating in front of a lady,” you joked one evening, your eyes crinkling as you smiled at him.

He smiled back, his dark eyes glowing like amber in the light of the candle beside him. “And you’ve finally mastered referring to yourself as a lady,” he teased in return, a warmth in his expression that turned your insides to mush.

“We’re both learning,” you murmured softly, surprised when he pushed part of his meal towards you. “What’s this?”

“Your dinner,” he told you, waving his hand over the food. “I told you, they feed me more than I can eat, and I don’t think they feed you nearly enough.”

You bit your lower lip, a pang of hunger in your belly confirming his words. You hesitated for only a moment before tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the barley and bean stew that Alba had prepared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, savoring what you could of your shared meal.

“You’re welcome,” Gallus said softly, a hint of some emotion in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you easily fell into a routine in the evenings when you were free from the watch of your masters, sharing meals together and enjoying one another’s company for longer and longer stretches of time until you finally had to force yourself to leave, Phoenix always meeting you near the gate of the ludus.

“Where does Phoenix go, while you’re here with me?” Gallus asked curiously, knowing that the two of you always came together to deliver meals to the Pugiones.

“She visits with the others,” you explained, laughing as you told him about the coins your friend had managed to win from Pollux and Felix after a successful game of knucklebones.

Tonight, as you and Gallus enjoyed a vegetable broth that Alba had spent all day preparing, you took stock of the increased amount of food on the tray you’d delivered. In fact, you had noticed over the course of the past several days that the portions of all the gladiators’ meals had been steadily increasing.

“Is Alba afraid you’re all starving over here? She keeps putting more and more food on your plates,” you joked, taking a small bite of bread as you gazed across the small table at him.

Instead of laughing as you thought he might, Gallus’ expression sobered and he dropped his bread beside his bowl. “The summer festivals will be starting soon,” he said in a low voice, as if that would be explanation enough.

When you simply blinked in confusion, he added, “That means more rich Romans will be trying to win the people’s—and the Emperor’s—favor by sponsoring games.”

As his meaning sank in, you felt your stomach hollow out. Suddenly nauseous, you let your own piece of bread fall back down to the table as well.

Besides that first day that you’d met Gallus, when he’d been so horribly injured in a fight, you hadn’t seen him or any of the other Pugiones actually leave the compound for a bout in the Colosseum. Some of the newer men had gone—many of whom had not returned—but never the champions of the ludus. Phoenix had explained to you once that because they were so popular and sought after, Atticus had the luxury of being more choosy about which games he enrolled them in. The Pugiones had earned enough fame and status that they were considered a major draw in the arena—and Atticus used that to his advantage to charge a hefty price for their public appearances.

It had been a couple months now since any of them had fought publicly, but with the summer festivals coming up, that meant more elaborate games would be hosted in the Colosseum. And those who sought to curry the most favor would pay whatever money they had to to ensure the best.

Gallus and the others would be fighting again soon.

Seeing the understanding dawn on your face, Gallus winced slightly. “They always start to increase our rations when we have to prepare for the games. We train for longer hours, and we have to be at our best when we fight in the arena.” His voice was flat, unfeeling, as he explained it to you.

“So it will be soon then?” you questioned, hearing the emotion catch in your voice.

“We haven’t been informed of anything yet, but I would guess within the next month or so,” Gallus nodded, his shoulders drooping slightly as he lowered his head.

“You’ll be fine,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “You and the others, you’ll all be fine. You always come back,” you murmured, trying to fight the rising tide of anxiety within you. “You’ll come back.”

Gallus lifted his head and met your gaze over the flickering candlelight, something intense and inscrutable in his eyes. “I’ll come back,” he promised, nodding his head slowly.

The two of you sat and finished your meal in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts and fears. When all the food was finally gone, you stood on trembling legs, knowing that Phoenix would probably be waiting for you and that you should be getting back to the villa.

Gallus stood as soon as you did, his large frame dwarfing you in the already tight confines of his cell. “Sabina,” he murmured, reaching out and lightly brushing his fingertips against your arm.

Unbidden tears started burning the backs of your eyes, but you looked up at him anyway, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” he told you, squeezing your arm gently. He let go a second later, as if afraid to touch you for too long.

You just nodded, knowing your voice would betray you if you spoke.

“Get back safely,” he whispered, a rugged tenderness in his voice as he walked you to the door. “And get some rest.” You could feel his fingers gently catching on the ends of your hair, which you’d worn loose tonight.

“Good night, Gallus,” you said softly, gazing up at him one last time.

“Good night, Sabina.”

And then you were gone, into the night.

You quickly approached the gate that led back to the villa, assuming Phoenix would already be there waiting for you. The apology you’d been conjuring up died on your lips, however, when you realized that she wasn’t there. Frowning in confusion, you glanced around, wondering if perhaps she was playing a trick on you, hiding behind some shrubbery. You knew for a fact that she never would have left the ludus without you.

For a moment, you grew worried, but then you let out a breath and a soft laugh, figuring that she had also lost track of the time and was probably still swindling Pollux and Felix out of some pocket change.

Doubling back, you approached the cells of the other Pugiones, assuming that Phoenix must still be inside with some of them. As you headed towards Pollux’s and Felix’s cells, however, you suddenly caught a snatch of light coming from Carnifex’s cell, where the door was the tiniest bit ajar. You thought nothing of it until you suddenly heard Phoenix’s voice coming from within. Letting out a sigh of relief, you stepped closer to the door, but froze when the conversation happening inside became clearer.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s dangerous?” Phoenix whispered, a worried edge in her tone.

Surprised, you glanced through the small crack in the door and were shocked to see your friend’s hands splayed across the blonde gladiator’s bare chest, while his hands were wrapped around her waist.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?” Carnifex countered, keeping his voice down only when Phoenix pressed a hand to his lips.

“You should care,” she hissed, groaning in frustration. “Hrodebert already figured it out. Do you really want someone else to find out and have to bear the burden of knowing?”

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous and I don’t care who knows,” Carnifex muttered stubbornly. “All I know is that I want you.” And with that, he swallowed up any further arguments Phoenix would have made with a kiss, his fingers buried in her dark hair as she melted against him.

You couldn’t help it. You gasped, your eyes widening as you clapped a hand over your mouth, stupefied.

Letting out horrified gasps of their own, Phoenix and Carnifex whirled around, catching sight of you at the door.

“I’m sorry!” you whispered, turning in a panic and fleeing back towards the villa.

“Sabina!” Phoenix called after you, the sound of her running footsteps catching up to you before you could reach the gate.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you told her, fearing she would be angry with you. “I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—”

“Sh, sh, sh,” Phoenix whispered, covering your mouth with both her hands until she could tell that you had calmed down somewhat. Slowly lowering her hands, she looked into your eyes, remorse and sadness evident there even under the dark cover of night. “It’s alright, Sabina. I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said softly. She glanced over both her shoulders before saying, “Come with me.”

Taking your hand, Phoenix pulled you through the gate, but instead of heading towards the house, she pulled you in the direction of the small bathhouse that Atticus and Aurelia had recently renovated on their property. Checking that it was empty of any of the other servants, she dragged you inside and lit a candle, settling you both down on a bench fit into an alcove in the wall.

“Phoenix, I’m so sorry,” you apologized again, mortified beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I just went to the gate and you weren’t there and I thought that maybe—”

Phoenix held up a hand to cut you off, silencing you with that single gesture. “Sabina, you don’t have to apologize. This is my fault. I lost track of time and I was being stupid. I—well, obviously you know what you saw,” she sighed, twisting her hands in her lap.

“H-how long? Have you and Carnifex—?” To say you were stunned would be an understatement. But as the shock slowly wore off, you were suddenly reminded of all the small signs you had noticed and failed to pay much attention to, the hidden looks and innocent touches, the way their eyes seemed to communicate without saying a word.

“It started before you even came to the household,” Phoenix confessed, running a hand through her dark hair.

Your eyes widened at that revelation. It had been going on the entire time you’d known her, and yet you’d never put the pieces together.

Realization struck you.

“Is that where you go at night? The reason why you come back to our quarters so late sometimes?” you asked, thinking how much more sense it made now.

“Sometimes I really am helping Hrodebert with the accounts,” she replied, looking ashamed. “But…yes.”

You sat back and took a deep breath, letting that information wash over you. How had you not figured it out? Why had Phoenix not told you? You felt a small stab of hurt. You thought the two of you shared almost everything with each other.

“I would never tell,” you murmured, looking over at her crestfallen face. “If you had told me, Phoenix, I promise I would have kept your secret.”

“I know that,” Phoenix rushed to tell you, taking your hand in between hers and pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of it. “Oh, I know that. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you that I didn’t tell you. It’s because I wanted to protect you. And everyone else. I didn’t want Hrodebert to know either. He just figured it out.”

You looked at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would you not telling us protect us? Protect us from what?”

“From having to lie for us,” Phoenix whispered miserably. “If Atticus—or Aurelia—ever suspected, if they started asking questions—I don’t want any of you to have to make up lies to protect us.”

“Why would they even care? What concern is it to them?” you demanded, feeling a growing anger on behalf of your friend, that she had to sneak around and lie like this, just to feel safe.

Phoenix let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, my sweet Sabina. You really are too good and innocent for this world. Atticus and Aurelia prey on weakness. They seek it out and they exploit it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If they knew what’s been going on between me and Carnifex—if they found out—”

“Do you love him?” you asked, cocking your head to the side as you gazed into your friend’s eyes.

Phoenix froze at your question, avoiding your eyes as she leaned back and ran a tired hand down her face. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m such a fool,” she whispered, her voice filled with pain.

“But do you love him?” you pressed, thinking of the way you’d seen her clinging to him in his cell.

“I—I shouldn’t love him,” she whimpered brokenly, burying her face in her hands. “It’s better for the both of us if I don’t love him. And he shouldn’t love me either. But I just—we—we can’t stay away from each other.”

“Oh, Phoenix,” you murmured gently, wrapping your arms around her in a comforting embrace. You understood what she was saying. As hard as you tried, you didn’t think you could stay away from Gallus either, even if your relationship with him wasn’t quite the same as Phoenix’s with Carnifex.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix confessed in a small voice, holding tightly to you. “I’m scared of what will happen if anyone else finds out.”

“What would Atticus and Aurelia do?” you wondered, suddenly feeling terrified to know the answer.

“They’re so cruel, especially that witch Aurelia,” Phoenix whispered, not directly answering your question. “She can’t have the Pugiones, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have them either. Before you came—” She seemed to shudder with the memory of it.

“What?” you asked, biting down on your lower lip. “What happened?”

Phoenix took a deep breath, sitting up straight and turning to look at you head on. “Before you came, there was another gladiator in the Pugiones. His name was Rufus. He was one of the best. And he fell in love with one of the slave girls in the house, Niobe. They used to sneak around to see each other. But Aurelia figured out what was going on, that jealous bitch. All she had to do was say the word, and the very next day Atticus sold Niobe to a friend of his who was moving his family to Sicilia.”

You gasped in horror. How was it that Domina’s cruelty still didn’t fail to shock you?

“Rufus was heartbroken,” Phoenix went on, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t talk to anybody.”

“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, a bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

Phoenix let out a sigh, heavy-laden with sadness. “He told the others that he had nothing left to live for with Niobe gone. Nothing left to fight for. Atticus enrolled him in the Saturnalia games, and—and—Gallus told me later that he just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win. They say he died in the arena that day, but I know that he died long before that. He died the day they took Niobe away from him.”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes, your heart moved with sadness for the ill-fated lovers.

“That’s why I’m afraid,” Phoenix whispered, resting her head on your shoulder. “That’s why I don’t want anyone else having to bear the burden of knowing what’s going on between me and Carnifex. I should end things with him. I know I should. It would be safer for both of us. But I—”

“You love him,” you told her. It was no longer a question.

“Oh, Sabina,” Phoenix cried, her face crumpling as she started to sob in earnest.

“Sh, sh, it will be alright,” you cooed softly, pressing your cheek against the top of her head and rocking her back and forth slowly. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” you assured her, echoing the same words Gallus had told you earlier.

The two of you stayed a while longer in the bathhouse until Phoenix had composed herself enough to return to the main house.

Crawling onto your sleeping mats in the slave quarters, you curled up side by side, Phoenix slipping her hand into yours and squeezing tightly until she finally fell asleep.

Sleep evaded you, however. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you silently reflected on all you had learned of that night—the upcoming summer games, Phoenix and Carnifex’s affair, the story of Rufus and Niobe.

In the midst of it all, Gallus’ face kept flashing in your mind, his dark eyes shining brightly like they did whenever they were illuminated by candlelight, his scars standing out sharply against his tanned skin.

The peaceful picture was suddenly replaced by a horrific scene as your mind conjured up images of him being cut down in the arena, slaughtered during the summer games as Atticus and Aurelia laughed.

He just gave up. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to win.

A cold chill ran down your spine and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to force away those savage thoughts.

Gallus had promised you that he would come back, that everything would be fine. It had to be. It just had to be.

But would it?

Much like doomed Rufus, you were no longer sure you would know how to go on in a world without Gallus.

Closing your eyes and covering your face with your hands, you prayed to every god you could think of that you would never have to find out.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

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