#commodus fanfiction

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part one - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three 𓃮 warnings: none for this part, but future descriptions of smut and violence. 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor. ✧.* This is a dedication piece to the man who started my obsession with questionable men/villains when I was younger and it only seems the right thing to do with all the hype coming back.

There was something otherworldly about Rome. You always felt it, every moment of every day, that the impermanence of such a city would continue to ring through the annals of time. It had been there long before you and would remain long after. Many of the buildings may deteriorate and the people change – coming and going like the passage of seasons – but here, in this area of the world, Rome would come to stand the test of time. 

You had always been in awe of it all since you arrived as a small child. Eyes darted to every structure, every perception of movement, caught in a trance. Now, after many years, this place continued to enchant you. The lowly streets you grew up in did not last long. Your mother had caught the attention of palace organizers – her food was regarded as the best one could offer. 

Since then, you have moved to staying near the palace. It's so close to court yet so far away. Each day your mother would take you to the kitchens to help her as soon as you became old enough to take the stress of the job. It worked out in your favour, eventually landing you a spot as a servant with multi-talents. Such a thing was rare, and because of that, you were always busy. 

You displayed the same prowess that your mother had in the kitchens but managed to charm other experts in your youth to teach you different skills. From then on, the bowels of the palace became your sanctuary beyond the bounds of the chaotic streets of Rome. Whether it be in the kitchens, the textile rooms, or even the playrooms for the servant's children to stay in and out of the way, you were always found working. 

Today, of all days, you found yourself outside of the kitchen and serving instead. Recently your chores had changed to different duties that required you to be in areas of the palace you did not grow up in. You had learned to like the shadows cast by people as they scurried about the torch-lined hallways of the underground. Now, you were above ground. Serving when necessary, cleaning as well. 

You would not have minded if it was not for the piercing gaze of sharp green eyes that tended to follow you as you went about your work. At first, you had not noticed it. You were too absorbed in your duties to see the constant watch of the newly appointed Emperor. 

However, you caught on quickly. Emperor Commodus would watch you intensely when you would walk into a room he happened to be in. You did not dare reciprocate. Despite growing up in the bowels of the palace, you knew all too well of the habits of men in positions of power. Similar in age, he grew up with you, yet never once had you crossed paths. It was likely due to the protectiveness of your mother. 

Royal male children often became insatiable once reaching adulthood and your mother wanted to spare you from it. Yet, from what you had heard, Commodus had not the taste of princes that came before. Of course, there was still occasional trysts – you could remember a fellow servant giggling about spending a night with him. You could also remember the heartbroken look on her face as she was let go from her services and no longer permitted on the grounds the day after. That happened a few times; Commodus would take in a lover for the night and then discard them the next day as if they were a speck of dust on his feet. 

It was why his heated gaze made you increasingly nervous with each passing day. Any day you could meet the same fate as those servant girls and lose the only place you remembered calling home. 

You breathed in and out deeply, stabilizing the pitcher of wine in your grasp as you prepared to enter the large dining chambers. The Emperor was having dinner with some guests that night and you were tasked with serving. It was not what you wanted, having preferred to stay in the kitchens and make the food, but whatever your master Attius says is done without question. 

With careful and calm steps, you pass the large opening into the room with your head humbly facing the floor. It would be an offence to raise your head and make eye contact with any of the men in that room. 

Their conversation as well was no consequence to you. They were speaking of politics, of a real world outside of your own. There was no care in your life about politics. Why speak on something that does not know you, or rather women, have a capacity for things beyond what they have predetermined? Why should you give it any time of day, when it has not and will not do the same for you? Ultimately, deep down, you wanted to care enough to change something about that predicament, but you supposed you would have a better chance of fighting and killing a tiger in close combat. 

You made it to the table. Custom permits you to fill the emperor's glass first and you become exceedingly nervous once near him. Never in your time there had you been so physically close to him. It would be stupid to deny his exquisite physique. Commodus had likely been crafted by the gods, as it is with the royal line. He reflected the perfect nature of the gods and their mastered ability to craft the perfect human. Now that you were close, you could smell the scent of parchment and burning wood that clung to him. 

The pitcher tipped and you poured his wine. All the while you did not feel his heated gaze on you. He seemed too busy talking to the guests and them laughing as if everything he said was the most genius and original words to pass a person’s mouth. However, once you moved away and another started to talk, you could feel the shift of his eyes. It always caused your heart to race and the tiny nearly invisible strands of hair on your arms to rise. A tingle went up the back of your neck. 

The emperor ignored his speaking guests to watch as you poured the wine into their cups. They continued speaking, not wanting to call out their Ceasar for his lack of manners. They acted as though they did not notice his green eyes become attached to your form. You took in another deep breath, causing your chest to rise and contract within the fabric of your tunic. 

Once you were done, you made your way to exit. The walls had come to suffocate you, and each second under the green gaze of the emperor made you want to crumble and fall to the ground. A slave could not be in their presence for long. Many took offence to it. You had been taught that you go in and out quickly, acting like a fleeting shadow to quell their needs; preferably without them saying it. 

At the entranceway to leave, another slave coming in to serve grabbed you forcefully on your forearm. Callias stood in front of you, a sneer on his face. You tried to pull your arm from his grasp once but knew he would not let go. He had a habit of exerting his strength over the other slave women. You noticed that as a trend from other slave men. They often put down slave women in an effort to feel a sliver of power in a world that had taken what little they had. 

Pathetic, but then again you wished to feel the same way as them. Just a dash of power and a bit of control over the world would feel good. 

“Master says you have taken too long to serve them,” Callias whispered, “You are to go to the kitchens and stay there for the evening.” The venom in his voice, coupled with the pain of his grip, caused you to flinch. You slowly nodded and knew that if you were to say anything it would be taken as disrespect. 

Callias let go of you, nearly flinging your arm away from him as he left you to go serve the emperor and his guests. The spot he grabbed was red and you could feel the ache concentrated there. It would not bruise, but from how much it hurt that fact was not relieving. Finally, you were free and you made work of leaving. You nearly ran through the halls and down the flights of stairs to retreat back to the place you feel most comfortable. 

During it all, you had not noticed the piercing gaze of Commodus as he watched the exchange transpire.

You had found yourself lost in the rhythmic motions of cleaning in the kitchens. It was soothing work once a majority of the workers had left for the evening. The silence allowed you to think as you meticulously scrubbed pots. While not your favourite chore, you scarcely trusted others to do the work well enough.  

The motions of your work distracted you so much that you did not hear the pattering footsteps of someone entering the room until they cleared their throat. You turned around and saw a guard. His clothing was more refined than the lower guards and you swallowed some saliva that was in your mouth. A slight sting of anxiousness swept across your spine. 

“The Caesar has summoned you.” His voice was smooth and echoed throughout the empty kitchen. Your gaze quickly swept about the space, hoping he was addressing anyone other than you. When you realized he was speaking to you, a weight settled in your gut. 

 “Is… is there a reason for my summons?” You questioned. 

The guard did not respond, choosing to turn around and walk into the exiting corridor by a spiralling staircase. You knew there was no other option but to follow. Putting the washing cloth down, you dried your hands and followed behind the guard. He remained a few paces ahead of you as he guided you up the stairs and through the halls of the palace. 

It was not as though you were oblivious to the location of the emperor’s chambers. Despite your limited time serving above ground in the palace, you still had mapped the entirety of the place when you were a child. 

Fear began to grow in your heart and weigh down on your lungs. There was an inkling of hope that he summoned you for something other than the reasons he called for other ladies. Your stomach growled, aware that you had not eaten since earlier that day. In the chaos of your work, it was a frequent habit to forget food. 

In a matter of minutes, you two had reached the doors to the room. He positioned himself on one side of the door, the other covered by a guard that was already there. You hesitated, unsure of what to do. The guard that fetched you grew tired of your loitering and sighed deeply before reaching for the hand and opening one of the two doors. 

You took one final breath and walked into the room. You scanned the area quickly, finding a large well-decorated room in front of you. Various mosaics spanned the walls, adding a sense of grandeur to an already elevated way of living. Carved busts were on display, along with various items that looked like they came from places outside of Rome – lands far beyond that were reached by the forces of the empire. In the very centre rested a bed. Four strong quartz pillars surrounded it, with linen draperies resting as a cover over the bed. 

You saw the figure of the emperor off to the side, standing with his back to you and facing a table lined with various foods. Fruits, nuts, meats, and baked goods you could recognize as having been made by you only a few short hours ago. He had already eaten recently – a grand feast with guests – yet already had more food lined up for him. That feeling in your stomach of both anxiousness and hunger screamed for a reprieve. 

He shifted to face you and your gaze quickly moved to the floor as a sign of respect. You held your breath, unsure of why he wanted you here. Was your service that evening awful? Had he lost care for the food you made and have fallen into disfavour with him? Or, were you going to end up like those other girls before, used and thrown out? 

“Look at me,” His voice was like honey, a sweet tang with a rich coat. You slowly raised your head and made contact with the sharp and deep sea green of his eyes. They reminded you of the foam that would wash up on the shores of your old home before coming to Rome. In a strange sense, it was familiar, which unsettled you more than it should have. 

“Wine?” Commodus gestured to a pitcher next to him and two spare cups. Your eyebrows furrowed as you scanned the gold-lined chalices. He let out a low hum as he awaited an answer. 

“Caesar, I don’t entirely understand…” You trailed off. 

“I thought as much,” He proceeded to pour wine into both of the chalices while you stood there in confusion. His figure was dominating and he had a manner that held control of the space. When he finished pouring both drinks, he turned back around and approached you. He held out the cup, but all you did was stare. It was incredibly unsettling to witness someone ranked so high above you serve not only themself but someone else of lower status.

“Well?” He moved the cup closer to you, his manner mostly amused, but underlined with a growing annoyance. 

“Th- thank you, Caesar.” You took the cup from him. Commodus’ fingers brushed against yours, warm but calloused. He hummed again and took a sip from his cup. You held yours, staring into the clear liquid. White wine, reserved only for elites. You had never even come near it in your life save a few times to serve it. Now that he was closer to you, the familiar scent of parchment and burning wood surrounded you. 

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment as a short silence fell over. Moving almost hesitantly, he used his free hand to reach up and brush the red mark on your forearm. You flinched, both by his touch and the slight pain it elicited. 

“That servant, the one who grabbed you, why did he do such a thing?” Commodus stepped back and moved towards the table full of food. He plucked a grape from a vine and plopped it in his mouth, an action that surprisingly caused a stirring in your lower stomach. 

“My master thought I lingered too long, Caesar,” Your answers were kept short, hoping that there was a way out of this. You still had no clue as to why you were summoned. 

“Lingered too long,” He repeated it as though mocking, but not towards you, “What a ridiculous notion. You are too pleasing to be a blight.” 

“I-” The words got caught in your throat. In one breath, he had insulted your master and then complimented you. You shifted the weight on your feet and decided to take a large gulp of wine, sweet with floral undertones. “Thank you, Caesar.” 

He made his way to his bed, climbing the two steps of the marble platform it was placed on and sat on the edge of it. Commodus was watching you as you stood there, still as a statue busts that littered the room and unsure of yourself. 

“There is something you wish to say. I can see it.” His words echoed through the room and reverberated through your bones. You ran your tongue over your teeth, tasting the sweet wine once more. 

“Is there a reason for my summons, Caesar?” You questioned. Commodus looked down at his cup and used his index finger to trace the edge. He appeared almost… lost for an explanation. 

“Your mother had been one of the cooks, the best as I remember. I’ve heard you have taken that place.” It was an obvious means of deflection, but you knew not to rebuke it. You were also unsure of how he knew so much about you. Did he inquire into your past before summoning you? Had you done something wrong?

“Yes, Caesar, I have been lucky to assume the position.” You answered. 

He surveyed you once more as if it was a personal struggle to look away. Not that it was anything unusual – Commodus always looked when you entered a room. That was likely the deciding factor in inviting you to his rooms after weeks of watching you. 

“Have you eaten?” He asked. 

“I… have not,” Your hold on the cup got stronger and warmed up the surface. 

“Eat,” He motioned with his cup towards the table full of food. You approached slowly, unsure of what to make of all this. It felt like a trap, it had to be a trap. The kindness he was displaying likely followed with a payment. You would have to repay him for this, and what better way would be your virtue? But surely the emperor did not need to bribe women, so what was really going on?

You reached out for a dried fig and ate it. Your stomach had been aching for a few hours and suddenly the onslaught of it all overcame you. The food in front of you was already beautiful, but it intrigued you even more. Commodus was not watching, but instead sat still and looked at his cup in deep thought. 

Silently, you ate. It was only for a few minutes, but the deep satisfaction of a full stomach was not something you were well acquainted with. After you were finished, you set your cup down that was now empty. The sound was sharp and caused Commodus to raise his head. You were still unsure of meeting his eyes. They were so intense that they would knock the air from your chest and cause your head to spin. That was not what you wished to experience. 

“Do you like your work?” His question was sudden and caught you off guard. It seemed that all Commodus was able to do was constantly surprise you with his demeanour. He was not like he seemed and you did not know whether that was dangerous or not. Unpredictability was unreliable. 

“I am honoured to serve the empire in any capacity,” Your words, rehearsed and polished, seemed enough to satisfy him. Commodus placed his cup down on a small bedside table and fell back onto the plush covers. He let out a sigh before adjusting and moving to the other side of the bed. 

“Come here,” He beckoned you over. Your brain started to conjure up scenarios, all of which would end up with you unsullied and out of work. However, you were surprised to see Commodus lying with his eyes closed. He patted the free spot next to him for you to sit. 

Slowly and unsure, you felt the bed dip where you sat and rested your back against the headboard. He kept his eyes closed, content with your compliance. 

“Sing for me.” He requested. 

“Excuse me, Caesar?” You asked. He opened both of his eyes, looking up at you through heavy lids. The space between you two was small and your heartbeat increased at that. 

“I know you can sing, I remember hearing it at the Cerealia festival. Sing for me.” He was staring at you expectantly. 

In your memories, you could briefly remember singing during that festival when you were a girl of ten – only a few years younger than the emperor. It was your first time singing in front of a large group of people. It had been a celebration in one of the gardens amongst some of the other slaves, but Commodus’ words led you to believe it was not just the slaves watching. 

A deep blush settled across your face. While you often occupied your time doing chores through humming and singing, it was not something you wished to do in front of others. The only reason why you sang at that festival was because your mother had wanted you to. However, no amount of excuses could ever be used to deny the emperor, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and began to hum a sweet tune. 

The sound carried through the air of the large room. Gradually, your humming turned into light singing. Over that time, Commodus had shifted closer, now only a finger width of space separated you two. One of his hands reached out to touch your forearm that rested by your side, brushing against the fading red mark. His fingers glided up your skin, raising the hairs there. The thumping in your chest increased. 

Quietly, as if not to disturb you, he spoke, “The slave that hurt you, what is his name?” 

“Callias,” You answered. Commodus hummed and closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head back into the pillows. He settled down but did not remove his hand from your arm. 

“Keep singing.” He mumbled into the pillow.

On his orders, you continued the song you had been singing before he interrupted. A warm breeze came in from the open balcony doors, reminding you of the heat of summer. Everything felt like an odd dream. This outcome did not even come across your mode of thinking when you were escorted to his room, but you were thankful it ended up this way. He had not tried to seduce you or even force himself on you when that failed. 

It seemed he only wished for company. You could not help but wonder if your performance so many years ago stayed with him. It was a stupid thought, silly even, to think that young him would have heard a slave girl singing and remembered. It was likely that you were simply sent up more often in recent weeks and had come to his attention. 

At the very least, that was what you tried to assure yourself as the emperor fell asleep next to you. You were not sure what you should do but decided to stay and continue singing. You did so until the stars came out and sleep slowly took over your body. 

In the haze of sleep, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm.

(I am ignoring my archaeology degree to write this. Like Ridley Scott, inaccuracy is my best friend.)

(Also, no beta reader, just my manic thoughts.)

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

[delicioushottubpeanut]

AHHH THIS EDIT- IM IN LOVE!!!!!

Credits: caralquii on tiktok

[smallratboy]

Sadness - Commodus x Reader

You suffer from melancholia, and can't bring yourself to get out of bed. Commodus understands, and comes to comfort you.

masterlist

Your eyes focused and unfocused. The spot on the wall had looked the same for the last couple hours, aside from a spot of sunlight that had moved slowly as the day went by. Now, the room was filled with orange light, the sun setting below the horizon. You sighed, closing your eyes, and curled further in on yourself. 

You couldn't explain your feelings of emptiness, but you knew it had always been there. On the edge of your mind, a curtain waiting to fall over any rational or joyful thought. Sometimes, you could keep it at bay. Other times, it consumed you. 

You felt disgusting. You had not bathed for weeks, and your hair was shiny with grease. Your sheets smelled of sweat, and the imprint of your body was bent into the bed from laying there so long. You sighed, hating yourself but not having the energy to get up. You tried to just sleep, welcoming the warm embrace of oblivion. 

You didn't know quite when you fell asleep, but you were woken up by the sound of the door opening and closing. The sun had set, and the sky was purple and littered with stars. You heard Commodus shuffle around the room, taking off his armor and getting into bedclothes. 

A warm hand pressed against your back, and you smelled the olive and rose oils that Commodus loved. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and you rolled onto your other side to face him. He smiled down at you, pulling your head into his lap. 

“How are you feeling, my love?” He whispered, running his hands through your hair. You sighed, squishing your cheek against his thigh. 

“Not good,” you said softly, trying to conjure words for what you felt. You felt like you had swallowed a boulder, yet at the same time you were starving. Heaviness made your limbs ache, and your mind felt rotted, self-deprecating thoughts eating away at you like maggots. 

Commodus sighed, and helped you to sit up so your back was pressed against his front. He brought a goblet of sweet wine to your lips, letting you wet your parched throat. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were until now. The honeyed taste of the wine delighted and warmed you, from the tip of your tongue down your throat, blooming in your chest. 

“I love you,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. He left soft kisses on your cheek, jaw, down to your shoulder. His arms were wrapped securely around you, and the comforting pressure from his embrace helped to lessen the emptiness eating away at your ribcage.

“I love you too,” you whispered, barely audible. Your voice cracked, and you began to cry. Commodus was so kind, so gentle, and you felt so disgusting. Emotions overwhelmed you, and salty tears dripped down your face. Commodus’ arms tightened around you, and he murmured sweet nothings while you cried. 

After a while, your breathing settled. Commodus wiped the remains of the tears from your face, his thumb stroking your cheek comfortingly. You leaned against him, exhausted. 

“It's alright now, sweet thing,” he murmured. “I'm here now. You don't have to be alone.” 

He reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a platter of your favorite dried fruits. He fed you small pieces, pressing the fruit against your lips so you could take them. The familiar taste felt like sparks across your tongue and in your heart, the food helping to quell your destructive thoughts. 

As you ate slowly, letting your husband feed you, you began to feel a bit better. With your belly full of food, your thirst quenched, and your loved one nearby, your feelings became less suffocating. You brought Commodus’ palm to your lips, giving him a grateful kiss. 

“Thank you,” You whispered against his skin. 

“Always,” He replied. “No matter what, I'll help you feel better. One day, everything will be okay. I promise.”

an: I hope you enjoyed! If you liked this, let me know! I love hearing what people think of my work!!

taglist: @darknessisafriend

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

[madwomanxx]

A distraction

Blood and flesh were all Apollo could see. He avoided sleep, relying instead on ambrosia and nectar to replenish his energy. He foolishly hoped the visions would only plague his nightmares. He had never been that lucky.

Everything reminded him of Troilus; the children playing in the wheat fields of Rome, too young for the horrors of war, figs smelled like burning flesh in his nostrils, even the sweet taste of honey cakes dissolved into ashes on his tongue.

"It's been years," Athena so generously reminded him.

"You've lost children before," Boreas tried to console him.

"He wasn't that special, move on!" Artemis yelled, years of getting fed up with his brooding.

Nobody could understand why he was still grieving, not even Ares, who was surprisingly the most sympathetic to his blight.

They talked as if he merely needed a reminder of how insignificant Troilus was in the end. Apollo already knew that; he understood it better than any of them. He knew the second Troilus was out of the womb that he wouldn't make it to twenty-one. Troy must fall; no one could deny the will of Zeus.

Everything reminded him of Troilus. His fingers moved gracefully on the lyre strings like the thread he used to stitch Troilus's body back together. He strummed harder, desperate to will the memory out of his mind. He was a god! What was the point of divinity if he couldn't stop his own pain?!

Harder.

Harder!

Harder!

He threw the lyre at the ground; any more force and it would have split. Maybe he should have. Actually... maybe he should burn it altogether, just like the funeral pyre of Troilus.

Wasn't that what they wanted him to do? To forsake all sentimentality? Why should he cherish Hermes's gift? Hermes, the god who held him back from saving his dead beautiful boy.

"He didn't have a choice, Apollo," the logical voice said. "He was ordered to keep you away. He isn't the favorite; he can't just risk angering Zeus." like you

Why was he always the unreasonable one? Why were his feelings always too much? His reactions always wrong....!?

Why was he expected to forgive Athena—just because Aphrodite and Ares had moved on!?

They didn't suffer like he did. Aphrodite's son lived. He founded Rome. He gave Ares glory the bloodthirsty god could never dream of.

They weren't the same...

They. Were. Not. The. Same.

And Hermes... Hermes deserved to be ignored. He had the audacity to not only rid himself of all blame, but to demand an apology from Apollo for being "too harsh," "too unreasonable!"

He didn't need to get a perfect performance on the job; he didn't need to hold Apollo back while that monster tore his dead son apart for sadistic pleasure. He could've let go after Troilus died. He chose not to...

Hermes didn't care.

Apollo screamed. His throat burned, his voice getting louder, like a mama bear growling to protect her cub. His feet scorched hot, the grass beneath him turned to ash.

There were no lungs to limit him. His voice echoed through Rome, screams in languages that had yet to be invented. Words that he himself had yet to know the meaning of. He screamed until the god of poetry had no more words to shout, only illegible syllables left.

He killed the monster. He had made Achilles suffer a fraction of his agony.

He watched Achilles try to kill himself, filled with guilt for his lover's death.

It wasn't enough; nothing could ever be enough.

Not when he was all alone. Not when his own twin couldn't understand him. Not when his family finally saw him as the pathetic god he fought so hard not to be.

Maybe that's why he hadn't gained much favor in Rome. They saw through his facade of perfection. They saw how unstable he really was. Apollo had hated them for it, though it meant little, he hated everything these days.

They couldn't get rid of him, not after everything he'd done for Greece. He wanted to believe that Zeus would have put an end to Rome had their attempts worked.

But why would he? Apollo had become a shell of his own monument.

His screams slowly faded until only a whimper was left. It's— a voice interrupted his spiral.

"Isn't it too late for a pretty boy like you to be frolicking in the forest?"

Apollo turned around. He knew that voice. Leonidas, son of the current Roman Emperor. Apollo had never met him personally, but he was the god of knowledge, and Leonidas had already gained an impossible to ignore infamy.

"You don't look that much older yourself."

"Well, I'm not the one screaming like a madman in the middle of the woods."

"As opposed to?" Apollo dusted off his tunic, gesturing towards Leonidas.

"Bored." Leonidas shrugged.

"You don't seem to be hunting. What other entertainment could you possibly find here? Looking for a nymph? I'd argue that is far more fitting of madness."

"Hm. I guess you're far too eloquent to be mad."

"Oh? Thank you so much, I was just dying for your medical diagnosis!"

Leonidas quickly coughed in a futile attempt to mask his laughter. Apollo smirked. This was just the distraction he needed.

He moved closer, observing Leonidas; his hair was cut short, unlike the flowing locks youths had back in Greece. His tunic was red with intricate golden embroidered laurels, golden armbands tightened around his biceps, clearly never one to skip training or sports. Apollo could see the tension in his muscles. He wondered if the man even knew how to relax.

"You didn't answer my question," Leonidas said.

Apollo shrugged. "I suppose it is late, yes."

"That wasn't what I meant," Leonidas said.

"That's the only question you asked."

"You're so lucky I'm feeling generous tonight," Leonidas sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Seemed like a perfectly isolated spot to scream like a madman."

"You're really infuriating."

Apollo chuckled, his voice making Leonidas feel slightly less irritated with this beautiful strange man, but only slightly. "You aren't as charming as you think."

"And yet, you're still here."

Apollo stepped even closer, his face no longer obscured by the dark.

"I'm bored, and you're pretty enough to entertain." Leonidas closed the space between them, barely leaving enough room to breathe.

"Oh? Hoping to get lucky?" Apollo tilted his head playfully.

"I don't need to hope." Leonidas placed a hand on the side of Apollo's neck; he smirked like a wolf cornering its prey.

Apollo simply smiled, grabbing Leonidas's hand with his own, soft and gentle, a contrast to the rough edges of Leonidas's. His eyes shined golden. "Let's dance."

Leonidas backed away, startled. As the realization of what this man is dawned on him, he tried to pull back, but Apollo didn't let go. His grip firm and tender.

"Who are you?" He kept his voice steady, despite every bone in his body screaming to run away.

He wasn't the wolf.

Apollo ignored his question, snapping his fingers. The lyre hovered on the ground and began playing itself.

"You can dance, can't you? Dance with me. If you dance well, I'll answer... mm... some of your questions!" Apollo said.

"Men don't dance..." Leonidas's throat grated, holding back a growl, except Apollo could feel the slight strain hidden in his voice. Leonidas was afraid.

He smiled softly. "Then... follow my lead."

Apollo released Leonidas's hand and began to circle him, every step slow and deliberate. The lyre quickened, and so did Apollo, keeping his gaze locked on Leonidas, eyes daring him, as he moved swiftly with the wind.

Not one to turn down a challenge, Leonidas joined him. He moved with unexpected grace. Their eyes locked on each other. Apollo flashed him a smirk. The music quickened.

Leonidas, refusing to fall behind and determined to not lose, kept dancing until his feet could no longer keep up. He stumbled.

Apollo caught him before he hit the ground.

The lyre stopped. Only the sound of Leonidas's ragged breathing remained. Both were drenched in sweat.

"I thought you said you can't dance," Apollo teased.

Leonidas pulled away, face flushed. The words shut up were on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better than to risk insulting a god.

"...Let's take a bath!" Apollo said.

Leonidas stared at him, his jaw dropped. "Just who the fuck are you?"

"It's just us! I'll answer your questions in the lake,come on!"

"You said if I danced well, not if I bathed in a lake!"

"Do you happen to know any bathhouse that opens at this time?" Apollo crossed his arms.

Leonidas glared silently.

"That's what I thought, come on."

Apollo started taking off his cloak and tunic. Leonidas reluctantly followed suit. He hated following orders, even if it was from a god.

He got in the lake, surprised by how warm it was.

"I wasn't going to force you into the cold water," Apollo said. "I can be nice!"

"Sure.... I still don't know which god you are."

"I rather thought it was quite obvious."

"Wouldn't risk my head with a guess."

"Mmm, I suppose you have been as careful as you could be with your attitude, Caesar."

"I could be nicer, my lord."

Apollo chuckled. "Hades, no! Apollo will suffice, Leonidas." He smiled gently.

"Of course you already knew me," Leonidas gritted his teeth.

Apollo shrugged. "You may ask me anything, I won't be offended. Though I might not answer."

"I suppose I'll have to repeat my original question, why are you here?"

"Why was I screaming like a madman?"

"I didn't know you were a god then—"

"Leonidas, relax!," Apollo laughed. "I'm not that easily offended!" anymore went unsaid.

"Gods need to let out unsavory emotions too," he looked at Leonidas's hands. "How about you?"

"...Practice."

"Practice what?"

Leonidas mumbled, "Dancing."

Apollo's smile softened. "I'd be happy to be your teacher."

"...What?"

"You can only learn so much from watching slaves revel. I can teach you! I'm a fun teacher!" Apollo winked.

"You're... serious..."

"Why would I lie to you? I'm the god of truth."

"I... wasn't expecting it. It's not—"

"Manly? Proper? Roman?" Apollot ran his fingers through his wet hair. "Hmm... I'd have thought you were too confident for such insecurities."

"I am!!"

"If you were, you wouldn't be so ashamed when alone."

"......"

Apollo swam closer. He took Leonidas's hands in his. "You shouldn't care too much, you have something much higher than principles."

"...What? You?"

Apollo kissed him gently. "My blessing," he whispered.

Notes :

1) Apparently bathing outside not inside bathhouses thermae, was considered rural and generally frowned upon, especially for high class and nobles

2) Also apparently, instead of prince the son of an emperor title would be Caesar, especially if the son is meant to the heir!

3) Dancing in ancient Rome for men is also very frowned upon, very unlike Greeks

4) If anyone read TOA- yes Leonidas, the oc was inspired by Commodus. I really liked the idea of the power imbalance in the relationship, I really want to highlight it even more using my version of Apollo. I briefly considered just making a fanfic about Commodus x Apollo, sure my Apollo is a bit different but I think it could've passed- I just didn't feel comfortable enough writing with a real emperor in mind. Like I actually love and seek fics for the ships, so I have no problem with it!! I was surprised that I felt uncomfortable about it- I guess real people are my only limit?

4) This is the angst idea I got from seeing Hermes in the Francois vase, as far as myths and the vase go. Hermes was just there to deliver the soul, I basically wrote all of this because I thought the idea is interesting, I'm a sucker for angst and make up sex XD

5) Zeus isn't a bad father here, Apollo's thoughts especially in this state aren't necessarily true. To me Apollo is very self centered, he gets so lost in his own head ( I highlight this even more with how I imagine his prophecy domain to work) that he projects his own feelings and insecurities onto others. This goes both ways, he can love a person too much, get too into his own head which's also a bit messy from prophecies, and just assume the person totally loved him back too. Same goes for hate extra. This is just me mixing tragic prophet struggles with telling future, present and last apart with being an artists!

6) Yes! Apollo holds grudges haaard, he has been giving Hermes the silent treatment for years- I just think most gods have a fucked perception of time? Like how fast they age is dependent on many factors for example. It's a whole thing-

7) I've actually been working on this since before I posted my discovery of the vase ( I just forgot to do it earlier tbh-) so if the first half feels more polished, thaat's probably why. I went back to reread and edit every time I continued writing

8) I REEEEALLY tried to keep punctuation and tense consistent, I tried my best😭

This is definitely a little better than my never going to post writing, I still can't figure out how to end things-

Hope you enjoyed reading!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Beautiful Song

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Tragedy, Romance, Friendship Characters: Venus, Apollo, Commodus, Reyna, Frank Venus watched her plan come to fruition, and then enjoyed the bonus content that followed. @toapril-official TOApril day 8 - Echoes of Battle Cries. This was supposed to be Aphrodite. Venus wanted in instead.

Venus loved people-watching.  Mortals, immortals, gods… it was all the same to her, wrapped up in the glorious bundle that was entertainment, some dancing to her whims and some dancing all of their own accord, falling in love, falling out of love, breaking hearts…

No-one could ever accuse love of being boring.

It wasn’t just romantic love she presided over, of course.  Love was nothing so narrow-minded, and the making and breaking of friendships, familial and platonic bonds was no less entertaining and fun to play with.

Right then, Apollo was giving her bountiful entertainment on all fronts.  His uncertainty with Reyna – a particularly clever set-up of hers, Venus thought with no small amount of smugness – had reached its conclusion, resulting in an embarrassed Apollo and a Reyna who had finally recognised who she was and what she did and didn’t need to exist as herself.  Venus hadn’t been the only observing god to delight in Apollo’s predicament, there, although she had been rightfully the most delighted, seeing as it was her own handiwork coming to fruition.

Now, she was watching something she had had no hand in, but was enjoying the results regardless.  The emotional torment of the loss of a loved one – platonic perhaps, but Apollo had almost viewed Frank as a son for all that he belonged to her beloved – was delicious.  Venus hadn’t involved herself in Juno’s lifewood scheme, wasn’t particularly interested in what the other goddess got up to most of the time, given her prudish and limiting attitude towards things like monogamy, but that certainly didn’t stop her appreciating the way it had ended in such a blaze of glory.

Apollo’s anguish and pain, his heartbreak at Frank’s sacrifice, came very close to toppling her own Reyna scheme for the most entertaining moment since Apollo and Margaret had arrived at Camp Jupiter, and Venus was also eager to see young Hazel’s reaction to the news.  She was a strong young woman, and that only meant her reaction would be all the more exquisite.

Despite that, Apollo wasn’t done providing her with entertainment she would remember and cherish for centuries, because to finish it off, the third emotional torment of the trio he was experiencing, was a mess of his own making, and that…

Well, Venus loved orchestrating her romances and love-based relationships, loved interfering to gain the maximum entertainment, but she also loved it when people were messy enough that she didn’t even need to give them a nudge to bring out the best and worst in them.

Apollo and Commodus were one such pair.  They had been a disaster from the start, hurtling together like two out of control chariots and crashing together in a tangle of reins that couldn’t be separated and instead drew them even closer together, despite how terribly suited they were for each other – or how perfectly suited they were, depending on the perspective.

Venus had watched them the first time, the power imbalance between them and the way Apollo tried to ignore it and Commodus clawed his way up to try and even it out but always falling short because he wasn’t a god back then, and barely counted now, and thrived on it.  It was always messy, always take and take and take, no side ever giving to the other no matter what pretty words they dressed it up in, and was always destined to end in the most beautifully ugly fashion.

There was something darkly romantic about lovers killing lovers, the possessiveness of it all when they loved and hated themselves and each other, but despite it all, claimed each other’s life and death.  No-one else could have them, not a single aspect of them.  Not their love, not their life, not their death.

Venus had watched Apollo straddle the young emperor in his bathtub, outwardly so calm despite his essence being a wreck, and pin him down in a way that was sensual and brutal all at once.  Ending the life of the mortal he had fallen in love with, a stark parallel to the number of times he had desperately tried to save doomed mortals.

There was nothing healthy about the relationship Apollo and Commodus shared.  Not back then, and not now, either.  Commodus had died, but Commodus had survived, and the hate-love-hate between them had only tangled further, both of them still in love with the other while they hated them with every fibre of their being.

It was poetic that it ended like this.

Apollo’s hands were around Commodus’ throat again, straddling him in the same sensual manner he had millennia before, except they were accompanied by fire instead of water.  Perhaps Apollo himself, one day, would be able to craft something out of the parallels there, if he would bring himself to sing of this.  Venus hoped he would; his songs crafted of heartbreak always excited her essence the way nothing else he wrote quite managed.  A broken god beneath a mortal god, the end of the tale of two doomed lovers, doomed from the start and both always aware of it, but too obsessed to let go regardless.

It didn’t matter that Commodus had lost his beauty in the fire, that he was hardly a husk of the beautiful man he had once been.  Apollo’s anguish was still the same, bolstered even further by Frank’s sacrifice mere seconds before.  It was a tangible thing, the grief.

And then Apollo screamed.

Mortal he might have been, but it was not a mortal cry.  It was the cry of a god, a cry that reached deep inside the fabric of the world and tore at it, shaking the essence of watching gods.

It was thrilling, a song of heartbreak and rage and complicated emotions that all stemmed back to his love for his friends, for those he would see as his children if only he could, for the doomed love story he’d reprised against his will.

Apollo was aghast at what he’d just done, what he’d been able to do, and Venus suspected there were other gods watching and drawing their own opinions, but none of that mattered to her.  Let them think what they want, let Apollo struggle with his emotions and what love could do when he unleashed the darker side of it.

Venus had found her new favourite song of Apollo.

[gorbo-longstocking]

Laborans Duram aut Vix Laborans | Chapter 1

Pairing: Commodus/Reader

Summary: There wasn’t much that you couldn’t handle. Growing up in a podunk town with more cows than people gave you a threshold for tolerating nonsense far greater than that of the average person. You were thankful for that because, as of late, you found yourself in a bit of a situation. After being forced from the comfort of your dishwashing station when a server called out, you wound up catching the attention of your classmate, who, as it happened, wasn’t aware you were his classmate.

Commodus, known for being a bit of a pretentious nuisance around campus, also happened to be a very strange man. No matter how often he turned up at your work to order a caesar salad and a water, he would always request that you serve him.

At least he tipped well.

Tags: Modern AU, College AU, Transmasc Reader, Autistic Reader, Humor, this is a romantic comedy where the funny bits come from commodus being pathetic and kind of unhinged, that said, Later Stalking, Later Obsessive Behavior, Second Hand Embarrassment, Social Anxiety, Commodus’ Tumultuous Family Issues, Reader Has A Southern Accent

Word Count: 5.3k Words

Read on AO3

Without a word, you slipped into the kitchen through the back door and grabbed your apron. The only sound that announced your presence was the click of the lock, accompanied by the snap of your gloves. Your arrival at your job was the same as it had always been since you had been hired, quiet and without warning. Every day, you would clock in to take your frustration out on the little odd jobs in the kitchen of a local mini-chain, ranging from washing dishes to prep. It was simple, it was easy, but most of all, it was lonely. That was the most important part. Being alone and not having to talk to anyone. You were never good at socializing.

Of course, you would offer a friendly nod to your coworkers, and, of course, they would return it. You knew them well enough, familiar with them and their mannerisms that you were comfortable in letting the mask fall, if only a little bit. So long as you remained amicable and did your job, they would put up with you. It wouldn’t be the first time you got a little too comfortable with your peers. You very quickly realized that your threshold for the weird, and other people’s, were very, very different. Even being deemed ‘too quiet’ was a negative mark on your character. You found it strange. Everyone was at least a little odd, should one not hold onto a little patience in the presence of eccentricity?

Interacting with others was a very strange dance that, while you learned to do it well, matching and mimicking the people around you, it was also exhausting. That was why you saved your efforts for the people you would be interacting with daily, and why you told your manager that, outside of the odd busboy duties, you would not be engaging with the public. Why waste that effort on someone you would know for less than an hour. It didn’t make sense to you.

As you stipulated — kindly, you might add — when you were first hired, under no circumstances should your manager ever ask you to wait tables. You were hired for back of house work, and that was where you would stay. If it came down to it, you would quit. At least, that was what you told yourself. Right now, your job was perfect. Chopping vegetables, or listening to music as you cleaned dirty dishes, all while avoiding all of the little dramas outside of your bubble. You dared to think that if all of your life was like this, you would be happy. This was not an occupation you would give up easily, especially not on a whim.

Someone shouted your name from the dining area. With a small hum of surprise, you lifted your head from where you were staring at your shoes. It was your manager, a middle aged woman with glasses named Nora. You could see her waving at you from the window. She was nice. Enough of a hardass to keep people in line, while also being open enough to shoot the shit with during your off time. While you never took her up on her offer, you appreciated it nonetheless.

You took out your earbuds and shoved them into your pocket before making your way to the double doors that led to the front. Unwilling to step all the way out into unfamiliar territory, you only poked your head out. “Yes’m?”

Nora sighed, looking guilty and it put you on edge. She only made that face when she was about to ask you to do a task that no one else wanted to do, like chase raccoons out of the trash can outside, or clean the bathrooms after someone made a real mess of them.

“I need a huge favor from you, buddy.”

Awkward, you sidled out of the kitchen all the way into the near empty dining room. It was a weekday, and in the middle of the afternoon, so it being slow wasn’t a real surprise to you. After all, you wouldn’t go out to eat at this time, let alone here. Logically, the rest of the town’s inhabitants wouldn’t either. Then again, logic wasn’t always on your side.

“Someone throw up again?” You asked. “S’okay if they did, I can clean it. No big, ma’am.”

Nora shook her head. “Tabby called out.”

That was one of the waitresses. You felt your heart begin to sink as dread filled the empty space in your chest. If Tabby called out, there would be no one working the dining room for a few hours. You doubted any of your coworkers would come in during a slow period. Especially not to make a few bucks in tips then go home. The amount they’d spend on gas would be more than they received for a few hours of work. Nora noticed your expression of dawning horror and gave you an apologetic grimace.

“We need you in the dining room, buddy.”

You should quit. That was what you told yourself you would do if it came to this. The only problem was finding a new job. Would you be able to get a new one in time to make rent? Likely not considering the current market, and your savings were woefully depleted. Californian expenses were nothing to sneeze at, even in a small college town outside of the city. Sweat made your hair stick to your forehead. You could feel your mouth moving, speaking in your stead. Not your threat to quit, mind you, that was lodged deep in your esophagus.

Instead of anything you wanted to say, all you managed was an uncomfortable, “Alright.”

Nora breathed a sigh of relief, her entire body deflating under the weight of her calmed nerves. “You’re a lifesaver, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You imagined the store burning in the wake of your absence. It made you feel a little better. “Just this once, yeah?”

“You got it, buddy. Once is all I’ll ask of you.” That was a lie if you ever heard one, but you held your tongue. Nora placed a hand between your shoulders to guide you to the register, and you stiffened under the unwanted contact. She didn’t seem to notice as she didn’t remove her hand. It wasn’t her fault, you didn’t say anything about your aversion to physical touch, so you wouldn’t hold it against her.

Once at the register, she gave you a quick crash course of everything you needed to know. What buttons to press, where to swipe a customer’s card, it was all rather self explanatory. You picked up on it fast. The real problem was the public, and you could feel your heart race as you imagined every flub and misstep you were sure to make. Apparently, a few mistakes were common and easily forgivable, at least from a managerial standpoint. Due to the fact that you had never waited tables before, even if a customer put in a formal complaint about you — unless you spit in their food — it would be written off. The assurance was supposed to make you feel better, but all it did was remind you that, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t please everyone. Swallowing hard, you shifted from foot to foot, your fists clenching at your sides.

Nora prattled on about the importance of service with a smile, her eyes boring expectantly into you, while you kept your own fixated on her nose. She raised her eyebrows and pointed to her grin, not letting up until you matched her pleasant expression with one of your own. You tried to morph your face to mimic hers, though it came out into more of a grimace.

“Good enough,” She huffed. With a jerk of her thumb, she gestured over her shoulder to the bar. “If you have any questions, ask the bartender, Maximus. I have work to do in the office.”

You stood on your tiptoes to peer over her shoulder to catch sight of the man in question. He looked tired, almost grizzled, a baseball cap over short cropped hair and stubble on his chin. His shirt was decorated with the faded logo of some dad-rock band you couldn’t be assed to remember.

“Right. Maximus,” You muttered.

Nora gave your shoulder a firm shake, her eyes light behind her glasses. “You’ll be okay, buddy. I knew I could count on you.”

With that, she disappeared into the office and you were left on the battlefield alone. Your gaze flickered to Maximus who busied himself with cleaning glasses. Alone, save for one ally. You may as well introduce yourself. At least no one was being seated yet. The host, a teenager named Allison, was watching videos on her phone. So long as you heard the — rather annoying, you might add — nonsense spilling from her speakers, you knew you were in the clear.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself to meet one of your fellow coworkers, and approached the bar. Maximus looked up from his glass to acknowledge you with a short nod. He saw your apron, recognizing you as a fellow employee rather than a customer, and didn’t bother to cease his cleaning.

“Hello,” You greeted with a quick wave. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m your coworker.”

After you gave him your name, he repeated it and held out his hand for you to shake. It was calloused, if not warm. “You’re the kid who does all the prep work in the back, right?”

“And dishwashing, or any other job no one else wants to do.” It was weird to be called a kid by a man who was sure to only be a few years your senior. Well, you guessed so. He seemed to be of indeterminate age, somehow both thirty and forty at the same time. If you were told he was forty-five, you’d believe it, and if you were told he was thirty-one, you’d believe that too. You didn’t have enough nerve to ask him yourself, so you resigned yourself to being ‘kid’ and ‘buddy’ for the rest of your life.

Maximus chuckled. “Jobs no one else wants to do. That’s what I’m usually stuck with. It’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

“Nora told me you’d help me if I needed it,” You said awkwardly. May as well get to the point. There was no need for a senseless preamble.

Thankfully, Maximus seemed to appreciate your bluntness. “I can. Do you need anything now?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a small shrug. “Nah, just wanted to do a greeting. Would be rude to not, I think. Was nice meetin’ you, Maximus.”

“Same to you. Come get me if anyone gives you trouble.”

With a final parting shake, you released his hand and tried to find a task to busy yourself with. Allison had already gotten all of the cutlery prepared, so there was no use in undoing all of her hard work if only to keep your restless hands busy. There was one table nearby who was in the middle of eating, an elderly couple quietly sharing each other’s company. You watched them for a bit, studying the way they ate to make sure that, as soon as they were done, you could swoop in to take their plates. The woman whispered something in her husband’s ear and gestured to you, her expression twisted in dislike.

Right, staring was weird. Look elsewhere, idiot. A part of you wanted to give them an apologetic smile rather than the blank look you had fixed them with earlier, but your facial muscles refused to move. Instead, you averted your gaze to the front door. To your horror, someone was entering the restaurant. Allison perked up and hid her phone in her back pocket. You let out a long sigh when you saw the elderly couple glancing around the dining room, presumably in search of Nora, who was still in the office. They were going to complain about you. The realization made cold sweat trickle down your spine, further cementing your belief that waiting tables was as awful as you thought it was.

Allison’s phone began to blare again, your cue that the new customer was seated. However, when your gaze flickered around the dining area, there was no one there. Perhaps they were seated at the bar. That would make them Maximus’ problem, and that thought comforted you far more than necessary. A sigh of relief left you when you saw a young man speaking quietly with Maximus, only for it to catch in your throat when you recognized him.

Black hair that curled ever so slightly the longer it became, accompanied with light eyes that held a manic glint to them, no matter who he was with or where he was. As usual, he was wearing a polo shirt, though it was covered with a dark sweater this time. You could see the collar framing his neck. It was Commodus from your philosophy class, looking rather upset as he spoke to Maximus. While you didn’t know him personally, he was outspoken enough in class for you to take notice of him. He always had an argument for the professor. At first, you listened, but after the seventh time, you learned to tune him out. Sometimes, you wanted to confront him and ask him to refund the money you paid for the class. He took up more time talking than the actual professor. Though, you were laid back enough to not care all that much — your grade was still good, so you’d still get the credits necessary for your diploma — others were not so lenient.

Outside of his small circle, he was not particularly liked by the student body. There were rumors circulating about him, something about him being clingy and obsessive, not to mention annoying. The latter you were inclined to believe if his behavior in class was anything to go by, but you tried not to pay the other insults against his character any mind. You didn’t know Commodus personally, so you wouldn’t judge him preemptively.

You were staring again. Before either man could notice your attention, you averted your gaze to the window behind them. That way you could still be nosy, while having plausible deniability. Commodus’ grip on his computer bag’s shoulder strap tightened enough for his knuckles to turn white. He was definitely upset about something. Maybe it was the fact he was interacting with Maximus, or maybe it was a compounding of problems that made him irritable. Whatever. It wasn’t like you would ever find out. If you were lucky, he would leave once he finished his conversation with Maximus and you would go back to only seeing him in class.

A pretty robin flitted from branch to branch around Commodus’ head. There was a nest outside, you had seen it coming in. You hoped the eggs inside would hatch soon, you already had a few names picked out. The sight of Commodus storming away from the bar drew your attention, and, to your growing distress, he didn’t head towards the door. Instead, he bypassed Allison, forcefully holding up his hand when she tried to greet him, and sat down at an empty booth.

“Sir, you can’t sit there,” She said as her face switched between Commodus and the store’s tablet at her station.

“Why not? It’s empty.” It wasn’t your first time hearing Commodus’ voice. After all his yammering in philosophy, you should be used to how soft spoken he sounded, even if there was an indignant edge to it.

Because he wasn’t sitting in your section, you answered in your head. In fact, he was sitting in no one’s section, and if you really wanted to, you could ignore him due to that fact. Not that you would, even if the temptation was there.

Allison stammered, her face turning red as she fought for a way to explain her job to him in as few words as possible. “B— Because it’s against the rules, sir! Let me take you to another booth.”

“No, I like this one.” Without another word, Commodus opened his computer bag and pulled out his rather sleek looking laptop. It not only signified that he believed the conversation was over, but the fact that it would take an act of god to move him.

Allison’s jaw dropped before she snapped her teeth shut. Good, she was gonna catch flies looking like that. She didn’t bother to give him a menu, which made Commodus narrow his eyes at her, and turned up the volume of her phone as she returned to her hostess station. Now, she sat with her body turned entirely away from him. That left you to give him his menu. Fantastic.

When you passed Allison to grab a menu and cutlery, she mumbled, “Good luck. He’s a real prick.”

“Thanks,” You muttered. Maybe if you prayed hard enough some idiot would crash their car into the store and you would get to go home.

As you approached Commodus, he stopped typing to glance at you. At first, he set his jaw, possibly assuming you were a manager about to ask him to move, only to relax when he saw the menu in your hands.

“Hi,” You said, your voice awkwardly flat. Unsure of where to put the menu or his utensils with his laptop in the way, you set both behind the device. “What do you want to drink?”

There was no recognition in his eyes, causing you to relax ever so slightly. He didn’t know you were a classmate of his, that negated the likelihood of small talk by a heavy margin. “Water will be fine.”

“Yessir.” He tried to make eye contact with you, his eyebrows twitching together as you looked everywhere but him. To keep the interaction quick, you ducked your head to look at your shoes and shuffled away.

There was an audible chuckle behind you. You didn’t know what Commodus was laughing at, and you prayed it wasn’t you. As you filled a glass with water, you realized your hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath, you willed your body to stop betraying you, though it only obeyed a little, and made your way back to Commodus.

“Excuse me,” The elderly woman from before waved you down, her expression irate. “Me and my husband have been done with our food for quite some time.”

With a polite nod, you addressed her, “I apologize, ma’am, I’ll be right back to get them.”

“Well, you’re here now,” She snapped as she gestured to the empty plates. When you met the gaze of her husband, his eyes were hard. This wasn’t good. All you wanted to do was go in the back and cry.

While you knew that other, more experienced servers would have no problem picking up two plates with only one hand — or, so you assumed — you were not an experienced server. In all likelihood, you would wind up dropping everything. “I— I don’t have enough hands, ma’am. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Don’t have enough hands,” She muttered with an eyeroll. “Where is your manager? I’d like to speak with her.”

“I’ll fetch her once I deliver this—”

“No. Now. I want to speak with her now. Don’t think I didn’t notice your little staring contest with us earlier, young man.”

Shame, hot and bright made your cheeks darken. You shuffled in place a few times, wishing, not for the first time, that you were anywhere but here. This was what you were worried about. There was no denying you were odd, your mannerisms and speech patterns did little to endear you to the general populace. It took a while for people to warm up to you. Sometimes, you wished you were different. More like one of those social butterflies, whose presence lit up the room, making others flock to them like bees to honey. You would never be like that.

“Yes’m.” With that, you turned on your heel to fetch Nora.

The entire way to her office, you felt three pairs of displeased eyes bore into you. First, the woman and her husband, second only to Commodus, likely wondering where his water was. If only you were in the kitchen chopping vegetables. You would never agree to wait tables again.

You knocked on the office door and it opened a crack. “Nora, a customer wants to speak to you.”

“Already?” She groaned. When she stepped into the dining room, she gave you an annoyed glare. So much for being her lifesaver. “I’ll take care of it. Go give your table that water before they want to speak to me too.”

“Sorry,” You murmured, though she didn’t hear. Or, she didn’t care to.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to fix your face before you had to make your way to Commodus’ table. His displeasure didn’t melt when he caught sight of your expression, though it did soften as you set his cup and straw down on the table.

“What took you so long? I’ve been ready to order for some time now.”

With an half-shrug, you pulled out your notepad so you had something to stare at other than him. “Sorry, I’m havin’ some trouble with the folks at another table. What’d you like?”

Commodus was silent for a moment, though you could hear his fingers drumming on his keyboard. “You’re not very friendly. Perhaps you could work on that.”

“Right, I, uh…” Awkwardly, you gestured to the dining area with a sweeping motion of your hands. “I’m not usually out here. I work in the back, mostly.”

“What made you change your mind?” Commodus gave you his full attention now and you fought the urge to squirm.

“Nothing, really. Waitress called out, so I got asked to take over ‘cause no one else would.”

He nodded, his expression taking on a hint of empathy, though you were starting to wonder if he was projecting. Instead of looking at Nora, who was doing her best at reigning in the elderly woman’s anger, he was looking at Maximus. “And in your kind act, you managed to take the brunt of a stranger’s frustration.”

“Guess so,” You managed to say. Hopefully, he didn't notice the sweat beginning to build at your temples. “What, uh— What’d you like to eat again?”

“You work in the kitchen, what would you recommend?”

Nothing really. Half of what was cooked here was tossed into the microwave. There was only one category of menu items you could guarantee was made to order. “Caesar salad, probably. We get the vegetables fresh.”

Commodus nodded with a hum. “I’ll take that, then. With balsamic.”

Expectantly, his pupils flickered from you to your notepad, as if he didn’t trust you to remember the simple order. Not wanting to argue, you scribbled it down and made your way over to the register to input his meal. By the time you were done, Nora was back in her office, not bothering to spare you a word of greeting, and the elderly couple was gone, leaving you alone with Commodus. Thankfully, he seemed much more occupied in typing on his laptop than you or his surroundings.

If you had to wager a guess, he was working on his essay for your philosophy class. You had already finished yours a few days prior, right on time, you might add, considering it was due tomorrow. Commodus, on the other hand, appeared to be struggling. Every so often, he would sigh, resting his chin on his palm to glare at his word document with complete and utter disdain before he returned to typing. The only sounds that filled the dining area were the clacking of his keyboard, Allison’s phone, and every so often, the sound of Maximus shuffling about behind the bar. You felt yourself being lulled into a sense of peace.

Interrupted by the ring of a bell when Commodus’ salad was ready. You missed washing dishes more than anything. At first, you tried to hold the plate as you had seen other servers do, only to very nearly lose your balance. Scratch that plan, you would hold the vinaigrette in one hand, the salad in the other. That would get the job done, and that was all you needed.

Commodus didn’t spare you a glance as you set his food down. You had to stifle your relief, only for your shoulders to hike when he finally addressed you. “Thank you, waiter.”

“No problem.” Watching him open his mouth to continue speaking made your stomach drop. You wondered if you ran into the kitchen if he would demand to talk to your manager. It was a likely yes, so you stayed rooted in place.

“What is your name?” As much as you didn’t want him to recognize you, it would be rude not to answer. Thankfully, he still didn’t realize you were in his class, even after you told him what you were called. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thanks.”

He let out a strange laugh, a mix between amusement and offense. “Aren’t you going to ask me mine?”

“Sorry,” The apology left you on instinct. There was no point in telling him you already knew his name, not unless you wanted to seem like a creep. Your remorse made Commodus’ hackles lower and his smile a bit more genuine. “What’s your name?”

“Commodus,” He said. Inhaling a sharp breath, he turned his attention back to his essay, then, to your surprise, flipped the screen to you. “Tell me, what do you think of this? It’s for my philosophy class at the nearby college. You know what philosophy is, correct?”

“Yes, I know what philosophy is,” You responded, blander than you intended. Commodus didn’t seem to notice. Insistent, he pushed his computer closer to you, and you realized there was no getting out of this.

At first, you intended to give his essay a cursory skim. To your surprise, despite his argumentative nature in class, he was quite a good writer. His prose was a bit too poetic for an analytical essay, and there were a handful of grammatical errors, but ultimately, it was quite good. At the very least, it would get him a ‘B.’ While you read, you could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as he studied your face down to the most minor detail. Under the table, his knee bounced.

“It’s good, you know?” You said once you were done.

Commodus didn’t light up, his expressions were far too subtle for that, though he did look visibly relieved. “Thank you. I hope the professor thinks so as well, though I figure there is no impressing that harpy. How she got the job is beyond me.”

A small frown made your lips twitch. You liked your professor, she seemed very passionate about the subject she taught. Commodus simply didn’t like her because, while she would entertain his interruptions, eventually she would have to shut them down. Unfortunately, without giving yourself away as a classmate, you wouldn’t be able to say that.

With a noncommittal hum, you rocked back on your heels. “Well, I think you’ll be at the top of the class with this essay.”

It wasn’t a lie, you truly believed it. At the end of the day, Commodus knew how to make his stance known and elaborate well enough for the reader to understand. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face. It made your wring your damp hands behind your back before he settled into a smile. “I appreciate your flattery. After the day I’ve had, it is nice to receive some form of kindness, albeit from a stranger.”

There was a layer of anticipation to his tone, as if he wanted you to ask about it. Against your better judgment, you took the bait.

“What happened?”

Commodus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes, and you felt a hint of relief to no longer be under their scrutiny, if only for a moment. “From the moment I awoke, everything has gone wrong. Despite studying for days, I surely failed my chemistry exam. I swear, the dean will hire anyone off the streets, my chemistry professor can hardly teach. Traffic has been horrible, and yet, I took it upon myself to visit my father, who barely even acknowledged me.”

At the mention of his father, he grit his teeth, his words becoming strained. It took a shuddering breath for him to regain control of his emotions, and you couldn’t help but feel weird at the display.

“To make matters worse, my sister’s cellphone broke, so I had to come to this damnable restaurant to relay a message to her boyfriend,” He sneered the term with as much malice as he could muster. “All while I have an essay to finish. I had informed everyone that I have to put all of my mind to finishing it. Somehow, my request must have slipped past their attention, as per usual.”

“I think it’s commendable,” You said after you were certain he was done.

Commodus straightened and swallowed hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob. There was a desperate aura about him as he waited for you to speak. “What is commendable? Tell me.”

“Just… After all of that, you still managed an essay this good. I think the professor’ll be impressed.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right, she will be,” He said as he scrolled back to the top of his word document. “Do you think I should leave a note letting her know that despite what I went through today, I managed to get her essay done?”

You blinked, taken aback by his question. In what world would that be a good idea? It was only when he began typing did you find your voice, quick to stop him. “I wouldn’t. She might not be as, uh… Impressed. It may look like you’re fishing for compliments.”

Commodus sighed and deleted what he had written up. “That is a good point. My confidence is not so fragile as to need her approval.”

It certainly seemed otherwise, though you bit your tongue to keep your observations to yourself. “… Is there anything else you need?”

“A to-go box.”

As you headed over to the hostess station, Allison gave you a questioning glance from her phone as you passed. Commodus began putting away his laptop. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was chugging his water through his straw. What a strange man. Allison likely had the same thought because, when she met your eyes, she looked towards Commodus and shrugged.

Once you returned to his table, his glass was empty and his computer bag was back on his shoulder. You handed him the to-go box, and his brows furrowed before he handed the box back to you.

“Are you not going to put my salad inside?”

“Um, sure.” Albeit confused by his request, you went through with it. You may not have been a server before, but you were almost certain customers boxed their food themself. Either way, it was no big deal, you were simply taken aback.

Commodus took the box when you were done and placed it on the table. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, and without missing a beat, he pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“What?”

Folding the bill in half, he placed it, rather forcefully, into your palm and closed your fingers around it. “A tip for exemplary service.”

“Your salad was twelve dollars.”

But, by the time you managed to speak, Commodus was already gone. You turned your helpless gaze to Allison who frantically mimed at you to stuff the bill into your pocket. On autopilot, you did as she instructed and returned to your post to stare blankly at the door, awaiting your next guest.

Perhaps your threshold for the weird was smaller than you previously anticipated.

A/N: Hiiiiii, so. New Gladiator fanfic time, and just as I did with my main Gladiator fic, I will be having long ass author’s notes. This one was a long time coming, I’m not gonna lie. The idea spiraled out of control in the server when me and someone else started yes and-ing him into oblivion. So many of the ideas we concocted are so fucking funny and so, so real. I absolutely haaaaad to write this.

Some background information on Commodus and his family. He’s this pathetic and cringefail rich boy who’s father bought his way into this college, and also into the fraternity he’s in. While Maximus is more adept at stereotypically masculine pursuits and sports, Commodus is like… really into tennis and golf. If you’re looking for hot and sexy Commodus, you’ll probably be sorely disappointed here because I love my men wet and pathetic. And full of neuroses. I’m going to be spreading my ‘Lucilla is older than Commodus’ propaganda with this, I just think Commodus screams younger brother.

As for Lucilla. I’ll be getting into it in the main body fic eventually, but just so there’s no confusion, I’ll spell it out now. Because it is super confusing. That’s what makes it funny to me. Lucius is twelve and Lucilla was a teen mom at sixteen. Maximus is Lucius’ father, but Lucilla’s dad moved the entire family out of town to protect her from rumors and she never told Maximus why. Later on, she marries Acacius (the dad who stepped up) and, eventually, she reconnects with Maximus after the tragic death of his family on Facebook. Where he joins their marriage as Lucilla and Acacius’ third. That’s basically it. It’s unironically very healthy, there’s no jealousy between any parties. Acacius and Maximus get drunk and do home improvement on the weekends, love wins.

Also may as well address the elephant in the room with uhhhh, Commodus being in love with his sister. I am a staunch incest hater, so I’ve made an executive decision he’s not in this AU. However! He is still very attached to her and her opinion of him, to a really cringe degree, and he is viscerally jealous of Maximus. Depending on what’s funnier, he either also hates Acacius or is actually cool with him, I haven’t decided yet.

If you’re curious as to why Commodus was laughing about waiter’s inability to make eye contact, it’s because he assumed that they are attracted to him. And is too shy to make eye contact with him. Autism doesn’t even cross his self-absorbed mind. Also! Pointing it out in case anyone missed it, the caesar salad thing was, in fact, a pun. Absolutely on purpose, yes, I’m the king of comedy, how did you know? Lastly, you best believe Commodus has a wad of hundreds in that wallet of his. I don’t think he tips well, or at all, often, but waiter validated him during a bad day, so some compensation is necessary.

Thank y’all sooooo much for reading, hehe!! Please tell me what you thought of this if you have the time! DNBTS will still be my priority, but this will be nice to have on the side for when I need to rake Commodus over the coals. I’d love to hear you guys’ thoughts, eeeeee!!! Oh, oh, and if you figure out what the fic’s title translates to in English, I’m sure you’ll think it’s funny!!! Thanks all! Ily!!!

[lumpatto]

Anyone pls…pls understand me….

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

[yuahoeaiknow]

Domina - |

Wattpad | AO3 Pairing: Commodus x F!Reader Warnings|Tags: face slapping, mentions of incest, masturbation Words: ~6150 Chapter: 1/3

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Your heart skips a beat as those arresting green eyes lock onto yours across the cavernous hall, a shiver running down your spine.

Lucilla's delicate hand comes to rest upon your shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Y/n, dearest..." she murmurs, concern etched in her melodic voice, "Are you quite alright? You're rather distracted."

"Yes, forgive me." you manage to whisper back, "It's just... your brother. He keeps staring at us like we did something forbidden."

A smirk tugs at the corners of Commodus' well-shaped lips, scar as prominent as ever, as he observes your hushed exchange, his eyes glinting with intrigue and mischief. He strides closer, the rich crimson of his wine sloshing in his golden chalice, the sumptuous silk of his robes whispering against the polished marble floor with each purposeful step.

"Ahh, my dearest sister!" he purrs, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why do you not introduce me to your lovely companion?"

His gaze rake over you, an arrogant gleam in its depths. He can sense your discomfort, and it only fuels his desire to assert his power and control. In his mind, every person in Rome should be swooning at the mere sight of him, desperate for his attention and favor.

Lucilla's jaw tightens, her hand squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of warning and support. "Commodus," she says coolly, "this is my dearest friend, Y/n. You would remember her from childhood if you payed more attention to your surroundings rather than your sword play."

Commodus ignores the jibe in his sister's voice, his focus solely on the rather plain woman before him. "I did pay attention and I remember now." he drawls, reaching out to take your hand in his own. He brings it to his lips, his mouth lingering on your skin in a gesture that's far too intimate for a simple greeting - most likely to get Lucilla jealous, which she would never be.

"I'm sorry that I didn't recognize you sooner." he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. "You've certainly grown into a beautiful woman. I haven't seen you around much anymore."

He can feel the tension radiating from Lucilla, the disapproval emanating from her every pore. But he pays her no heed right now, too focused on the you before him.

"Father sent me off to Hispania to look over my sick brother years ago. He had an riding accident that left him with a head injury that required utmost care. Now he's well enough to be on his own again." you state in a matter of fact. "Lucilla and I held contact via letters. She helped me through rough times. Thank you again, Luce.", you smile at her and squeeze her hand that still rests on your shoulder. "Likewise, Y/n.", she smiles with a sad undertone.

Commodus's grip on your hand tightens fractionally at the mention of your bond. "Ahh, I see." he remarks, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "My dearest sister always provides great comfort." He releases your hand, "And now you've returned." he muses, his gaze still locked with yours.

Lucilla's hand on your shoulder tightens. "Yes, Commodus, she has." Lucilla says sharply. "And she's my guest to stay. I trust you'll treat her with the respect and courtesy she deserves."

Commodus chuckles, a snobby one. "Of course, dear sister!" he says, his tone mocking. "I would never dream of doing anything less."

He turns his attention back to you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, Y/n." he says, his voice low and intimate, "What brings you back to Rome now? Surely it is not just to grace us with your presence at this dull affair?"

His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to refuse him. He's used to people falling over themselves to please him, to gain his favor, much like your father. Your aloofness, your clear disinterest, hurts his ego.

Your curt, dismissive words only pour salt into the festering wound of his wounded pride. "I am here to comfort my dearest friend Lucilla, as any true companion would." you state plainly with a small smile, as if explaining such a notion to a simpleton. "Are you truly so unfamiliar with the concept of camaraderie, of simple, untainted friendship?"

A muscle ticks in Commodus' chiseled jaw as your words sink in, his smirk dissolving into a tight-lipped scowl that speaks volumes of his displeasure.

He takes a step closer to you, his presence looming, his breath heavy with the scent of wine and self-importance. "I am well aware of the concept of friendship, dear Y/n," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I simply did not realize that my dear sister had such... devoted companions."

His gaze darts to Lucilla, a flicker of resentment in his eyes. Her betrayal stings - she's chosen you over him in the blink of an eye, her bond with you over her loyalty to her brother, her emperor. It's a blow to his ego, his sense of superiority.

Amusement dances in your eyes as you watch the color rise in Commodus' cheeks, his scowl deepening with each passing moment. It's all too easy to get under his skin, to chip away at that haughty facade he wears like a second skin. The urge to continue your playful taunts lingers, tempting you to push him further, to unravel the imperious emperor's composure entirely.

But Lucilla senses your mischievous inclinations and steps in before you can act upon them. "Y/n, please." she interjects softly but firmly, placing a gentle hand upon your arm, "Let us go to the gardens, I could use some fresh air." she intervenes.

Commodus's scowl deepens and his cheeks feel hot. Did he flush? Must be the anger right? But... then why is his heart beating so fast? The notion is almost laughable, and yet, the evidence of his racing pulse and flushed countenance speaks volumes. In that moment, the great Commodus appears almost... human. Almost vulnerable. Almost intriguing.

"Of course, dear sister." he says, his voice dripping with sweetness that belies the anger simmering beneath. "By all means, go enjoy the gardens. I am sure you two have much to catch up on."

He takes a step back, allowing you both a clear path to the doors leading out to the grand gardens that surround the palace.

As Lucilla hooks her arm into yours, you turn around, unable to resist the urge to deliver one last jab, you blow her brother a playful raspberry before you allow your friend to lead you out of the cavernous hall and into the cool respite of the gardens. The soft rustling of leaves and the gentle burble of a fountain, you know so well from childhood.

Behind you, the emperor remains rooted to the spot, a man of unassailable power rendered momentarily inert by the sheer audacity of your mockery. Commodus stands there, stunned and seething with something between rage and intrigue as he watches you walk away, arm in arm with his sister. Did you just... blow him a raspberry?

His hand clenches around the stem of his wine goblet, knuckles turning white. How dare you! You, just a daughter of a senator, dared to mock him, the emperor, the divine Commodus!

He watches your retreating backs, the sway of your hair, the curve of your waist. He wants to storm after you, to grab you, to make you pay for your impudence. But no, he must maintain his dignity. He must show the world that he is above such base reactions.

So he stands there brooding, until your figures disappear into the lush greenery of the gardens. Then, with a muttered curse, he turns on his heel and strides off in the opposite direction, determined to find some way to assert his power, his control, his divinity.

Meanwhile, Lucilla leads you deeper into the gardens, the cool air and scent of flowers a balm to your unsettled nerves. She squeezes your arm gently, a silent thank you for standing up to her brother, for being the friend she needed.

"You were wonderful!" she whispers, shaking her head with a small smile at your brazenness. "But we must be careful, dear Y/n. My brother is not a man to be trifled with. His anger, his resentment, can be... dangerous."

She looks at you, her green eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. "Promise me that you will be cautious, that you won't provoke him further. I could not bear it if anything happened to you because of me."

Her voice is raw with emotion, the weight of her love and her dread heavy in every word. In that moment, you understand the true nature of her struggle, the burden of being the sister of a man like Commodus.

You turn to Lucilla with a gentle smile, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze as you walk together through the lush, fragrant gardens. "Luce," you murmur softly, "I came here today to offer you my support and companionship. I wanted to help alleviate some of the burdens that weigh so heavily upon your shoulders."

Lucilla's steps falter slightly at your words, and she looks to you with a mix of gratitude and trepidation in her luminous eyes. You know all too well the dark secrets that haunt her, the twisted bond she shares with her brother that goes beyond the bounds of simple sibling affection. The very thought of it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and a heavy ache in your heart.

Sensing her unease, you pause and turn to face her fully, your expression softening into one of tender concern. "Lucilla," you say her name once more, your voice low and earnest, "you must not let your thoughts be consumed by fears of the night and the... the attentions of your brother." The words are difficult to voice, but you force yourself to confront the truth of their relationship, no matter how sordid and unsettling it may be.

"Do not worry about me, worry about you." you say in all seriousness.

Lucilla takes a shuddering breath, blinking back the sudden tears that threaten to spill over. Your words, filled with concern and care, pierce through the walls she's built around her heart for so long.

"You are right." she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "I do worry about the nights, about the way he looks at me, the things he says and does... what he might do to Lucius..." she trails off, unable to give voice to the darkest of her fears, the twisted, unpredictable nature of her brother.

She shakes her head, as if to dislodge the thoughts. "But I can not let my fears consume me, not when Lucius needs me. He is my heart, my joy, the one good thing in this... this nightmare."

Lucilla looks at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I am so glad you are here, Y/n. Your friendship, your support, it means everything to me. I do not know how I would manage without you."

She takes your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "I promise you, I will not..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "I will not let him break us."

The garden is quiet around you, the night sounds muted. Lucilla takes a deep breath, composing herself. "Now, let us enjoy this moment of peace. I want to hear all about your journey, your brother's recovery. I want to fill my mind with hope and healing, not fear and dread."

Lucilla listens intently as you recount your time in Hispania, her eyes shining with empathy and understanding. She nods along as you describe the long, arduous journey of nursing your brother back to health, the sleepless nights spent at his bedside, the tiny victories and heartbreaking setbacks. About your nephew and niece that you learned to love, now that you finally met them.

"Your dedication and devotion are truly admirable!" she murmurs, squeezing your hand gently. "I can only imagine the strength it must have taken to see him through such a trial. You have a rare gift, dear Y/n."

As you speak, Lucilla's gaze drifts to the stars above, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Ahh, to have had that time, that peace, away from the... pressures and expectations of the palace." she sighs softly. "Away from the watching eyes and whispered rumors."

She shakes her head, as if to dislodge the melancholy that threatens to take hold. "But tell me more, I want to hear everything," she urges, her voice brightening. "I want to fill my mind with your stories, your memories. I want to forget, for just a moment, the weight that bears down upon my shoulders."

And so, as the sun settles above you, the two of you sit close together, hands entwined, sharing whispers and laughter beneath the Roman stars. For a fleeting, precious moment, Lucilla finds solace and respite in your friendship, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds her.

As the night deepens and the moon casts its silvery glow upon the grand palace, you find yourself ensconced in the familiar guest chamber your father and you once occupied during your youthful visits to the imperial family. The room is much as you remember it - lavish tapestries adorning the walls, a grand four-poster bed draped in rich velvet, and a cavernous fireplace that casts flickering shadows across the ornate floor.

Yet your mind is not focused on the opulent surroundings, but rather on the troubling thoughts that plague you. Knowing that Commodus most likely wants to sneak in Lucilla's bed. But not on your watch. You will try everthing to catch and distract him from not going to her.

The palace is quiet, the usual bustle of the day replaced by the hushed whispers of the night. Shadows lengthen and darken as the moon climbs higher in the sky, casting an eerie glow through the marble halls.

You pace another round outside Lucilla's chamber, your footsteps echoing in the silent corridor. The guards stationed at intervals along the corridor watch you with a mix of annoyance and trepidation, their eyes following your ceaseless pacing. Were they not bound by duty and protocol, you imagine their scowls would be far more pronounced, their mutters of disapproval less muted. But you pay them no heed, a senator's daughter above their petty squabbles and irritation.

Your senses are on high alert. You know him, his cruel machinations, his twisted desires. And you know he won't rest until he's sneaked into your friend's private quarters.

 And suddenly, you hear it - the soft rustle of silk, the faint scuff of sandals on marble. Your breath catches in your throat as a familiar figure emerges from the darkness - Commodus. He stops short, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your stance, your guarded expression. Thick eyebrows raise, his gaze raking over your form in a way that makes your skin prickle like thousand needles.

"Why, dear Y/n." he purrs, his voice low and dangerous. "What a... pleasant surprise. And here I thought you were enjoying the delights of your own chambers."

You snort. "No delights there to enjoy. It's way too hot and I can't find sleep. What about you? Seeking delight somewhere else than your own chambers?" you stab back with a knowing smile, despite the situation not being so funny.

Commodus's green eyes flash with anger at your bold retort, his jaw clenching tight. The audacity of this woman, speaking to him with such disrespect! Don't you fear what powers he wields?

But he checks himself, a fake smile slowly spreading across his face. "How clever you are, dear Y/n." he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. "Indeed, I find myself... restless tonight. And I thought I might find some... pleasant company to while away the long hours until dawn."

His gaze flicks to the door behind you, a meaningful look that leaves no doubt as to the true purpose of his nighttime wanderings. He takes another step forward, now mere inches from you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of wine and something darker, more unsettling, filling the air between you.

You stand your ground, unmoving and unyielding, refusing to cower or retreat before your brother's imperious presence. A sweet smile plays at your lips, but there is no falseness in it, no artifice or pretense. It is a genuine smile, born of a perverse amusement and the dark thrill of getting beneath his skin, of seeing that flicker of surprise and consternation in his eyes.

"Don't you think of me as pleasant company, Commodus?" you ask, your voice like honey, yet tinged with a sharp, hidden edge. The words hang in the air between you, a challenge thrown down before the all-powerful emperor, a gauntlet he is not accustomed to having tossed at his feet.

Commodus' eyes widen almost imperceptibly, a micro-expression that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. But you catch it, and with it, the darker undercurrents that swirl in those piercing green orbs - a maelstrom of intrigue, of danger, and something else.

A low, humorless chuckle escapes his lips as he takes another step closer, now invading your personal space completely. "You are many things, dear Y/n," he murmurs, his voice deep. "but pleasant is not the first word that comes to mind."

His gaze rakes over you, lingering on the curves of your body in a way that makes your skin crawl beneath your thin nightclothes. "Though I must admit, you do have a certain... charm. A spirit that is strangely appealing."

You jab your index finger into the center of Commodus' chest, your nail digging into the rich fabric of his tunic and the firm flesh beneath. A sweet, almost coy smile plays at the corners of your mouth, but there is nothing demure or subservient in the action, nothing that hints at the defiance that burns within you.

"Oh, I know." you say, your voice low and dripping with a false sweetness that belies the steel beneath. "Something we both agree upon." Your lips curve into a smirk, a mocking echo of the smirk he so often wears himself. "You won't get what you crave from your sister, nor any other woman. Ladies like them have been pushed around and shaped into little yes-sayers with no backbone."

You lean in closer, your nail pressing harder, a silent warning and a challenge all in one. "But I am not like those women. I will not be pushed or pulled, I will not be shaped to fit a man's twisted desires. And you have no idea, no conception at all, of how many men have knelt before me, enamored and enthralled, their hearts and desires laid bare at my feet like I am Venus herself."

With a sudden, sharp movement, you push against his chest, your palm flat against the hard planes of his body. It's a gesture of dismissal, a palpable shove that sends him stumbling back a half-step, a man unused to such blatant physical rebuffs by a woman, his eyes flashing with emotions - shock, anger and a grudging respect, he would never voice. No one has ever dared to touch him like that, to speak to him with such unbridled defiance. It's maddening, intoxicating, exciting.

"So you think yourself different then?" he snarls, his voice a low, menacing rumble that seems to reverberate through the very marrow of your bones. The air between you grows heavy, charged with an almost palpable tension as he looms over you, his broad frame dwarfing your smaller one.

A harsh, biting laugh tears from his throat, a sound as cold and sharp as the edge of a blade. It echoes through the cavernous hallway, a chilling reminder of the power and authority he holds, the unassailable might that allows him to shape the fates of millions with a mere word, a mere whim.

"Your naivety is almost adorable." he sneers, his lip curling in a mocking smirk. "You believe you can deny me?" he shakes his head, a gesture of pitying disgust, as if the very notion is a bitter taste upon his tongue.

He leans in closer and his eyes bore into yours with a ferocity that almost steals the air from your lungs and he snatches your wrist.

"You say you know men like me," he growls, his voice dropping to a low, sinister whisper that seems to coil around your very soul. "But you do not! You can not possibly fathom the depths of the abyss that lies within me."

He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to settle over you like a shroud, the implication hanging heavy in the air between you. "I will have what I desire," he promises darkly, his gaze never wavering from your own. "And woe betide any fool who dares to stand in my way... even if that fool claims to be the daughter of Senator Flavius. You do not have the willpower nor the strength to deny me anything."

You let out a derisive snort, your eyes rolling at the tediousness of his overblown proclamation. "Yes, I can deny you Lucilla!", you start and slap him with your free hand. "And yes I have the willpower and the strength to do so." your voice rings out with a steely resolve. Before he can react, you rip your hand free from his grasp and deliver a resounding slap to his cheek, the sharp smack of the impact echoing through the empty corridor.

"She is not rightfully yours, you little pervert. And neither is the title emperor!", you hiss at Commodus who blushes madly, feeling overwhelmed by this foreign feeling of submission, especially towards a woman. He staggers back as if struck by a physical blow, his hand flying up to his burning cheek. No one, absolutely no one, has ever dared to strike him like that. The humiliation, the sheer audacity of it, leaves him reeling.

He looks at you, his green eyes wide with shock and outrage, a fierce blush staining his cheeks beneath his light complexion. Your fingers dig into his chin, forcing him to meet your fiery gaze, to confront the taunt and disgust shining in your eyes.

"H-How dare you!" he splutters, his voice high and tight with disbelief. "I am your emperor, your god on earth! You cannot speak to me in such a manner!"

Despite his words, he finds himself unable to look away from your fierce gaze, unable to break the hold you have over him in that moment. It's a funny feeling, this sudden vulnerability, this sense of submission.

"I could have you punished for this, you know?!" he hisses, even as he makes no move to call for his guards. "I could make you suffer in ways you can scarcely imagine."

A flicker of uncertainty dances in his eyes, a tremor in his voice that betrays the unfamiliar territory he finds himself in. For so long, he has been the unquestioned master, the emperor who demands and receives nothing but blind obedience and fawning deference. And the fact that you, a mere woman, have managed to do so with such ease... it shakes him to his core and make him strangely hot.

He does not fight against your touch, does not make any move to wrest his chin from your grasp or to put distance between your bodies. It is a silent admission, a tacit acknowledgement of the truth in your words, of the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, you were right all along. Perhaps he is not so different from the men you spoke of, the men who crave domination, who yearn to be bent to another's will in the throes of ecstasy and submission.

A shudder wracks his frame as the mocking caress of your fingers trails across his cheek, that fine hand now a brand of your defiance, your refusal to cower before him. His breath hitches, a stuttering gasp that catches in his throat as you lean in closer.

"Punish me? Then why are you not calling for the Praetorians, hm?"  The words drip from your lips like honey, a sinful sweetness that masks the bitter truth beneath - that you hold the reins of power now, that you have wrested control from his trembling grasp and claimed it as your own.

And with that knowledge, with that dark, delicious realization, you strike again, your palm connecting with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap that leaves a second red handprint blooming across his skin. He whimpers, a sound of pained surprise and reluctant arousal, a noise that speaks to a secret, hidden side of himself that he has never dared to acknowledge before.

He stands there, frozen, as your words sink in. Why isn't he calling for help or defending himself? Why isn't he unleashing the wrath of his upon you for such an unforgivable transgression?

The truth is, he can't. Something about you, your fierce defiance and unyielding strength, holds him in thrall. It's a foreign feeling, this sudden submission, but it ignites a dark, hidden part of him. A part that craves domination, even as it resists with every fiber of its being.

"I... I am the emperor!" he says again, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. It's softer, uncertain. "I will not be spoken to in such a manner." he whispers, his voice hoarse and ragged.

But even as he says it, he makes no move to stop you, no move to call for aid. He stands there, his cheek burning beneath your mocking caress, his pride warring with a shameful, inexplicable excitement.

You roll with your eyes at his weak attempt. "Or what? Boring me with the same tired refrain of your so-called power and authority?" you ask in a mock tone, squeezing his cheeks as you hold his face, so his expression is squished, making you grin.

"You already threaten me with punishment but I think... that you're really into this... or what am I seeing here?" you cock your head, your free hand trailing down the length of his torso, your fingers dancing and flicking across the rippling muscles that lie beneath. It's a teasing, maddening touch, a feather-light caress that sets his nerve endings alight. And with a wicked, knowing smile playing at the corners of your mouth, you let your finger come to rest against the growing bulge in his clothing, a telltale sign of the desire that courses through his veins. You flick against it, a sharp, sudden pressure that has him inhaling sharply, his body jerking with a shudder of reluctant, shameful pleasure.

"No... no, you are mistaken," he protests weakly, even as his hips twitch involuntarily into your touch. "I am not- I do not... ahh..." he can't find the words, can't articulate the confusing mix of emotions and desires swirling within him. The feeling of your fingers digging into his cheeks, squishing his face in a way that should be humiliating but somehow only fuels the fire building in his loins, is unlike anything he's experienced before.

And yet, despite the shameful excitement coursing through his veins, the dark, hidden part of him that craves this domination, this surrender, he can't bring himself to give in completely. His pride, his arrogance, his belief in his own power and invincibility, won't allow it.

"Stop this at-" he starts.

Immediately you slap him again. "How about you stop sullying the purity of your sister's love with your vile, depraved desires, you filthy little dog?!", you hiss with venom.

Commodus steps back from you as if physically struck by the weight of your words. He raises a hand to his burning cheek, his fingers trembling slightly.

"That's enough!" he snarls, his voice still ragged but now infused with a flicker of his usual arrogance and anger. "I will not longer stand for this disrespect!"

But even as he speaks, he feels the throbbing ache in his loins, the way his body betrays him. Your words, sharp and accusing, cut deep. The truth in them, the knowledge that you see through his twisted cravings, both infuriates and shames him.

"I am not... I would never..." he starts, but his denial rings hollow even to his own ears. He's a man divided, his lust and his rage warring with a creeping sense of shame and humiliation. He glares at you, his blue eyes flashing, but there's a new uncertainty in them. A flicker of vulnerability that he can't quite conceal. And with that he just turns around and goes, leaving you in the hallway.

You inhale deeply, drawing the cool night air into your lungs as you turn on your heel and stride towards your chambers with a newfound sense of purpose. An amused smile plays at the corners of your mouth, a secret smirk of satisfaction at the way you had left your brother reeling and wanting, his pride and lust both thoroughly bested by your unyielding resolve.

You can easily imagine him now, hurrying to the solitude of his own chambers, his hand already working at the fastenings of his toga, desperate to alleviate the aching, throbbing need that your brazen touch had awakened within him. The thought brings a dark, wicked thrill that sets your pulse racing beneath your skin, a delight in knowing that you hold such power over the great emperor, the man who fancies himself the master of all he surveys.

Yet even as you revel in this newfound ascendancy, you cannot shake the lingering unease that coils like a serpent in the pit of your stomach.

As you lie in your bed, the cool sheets a relief against your flushed skin, your mind replays the scene. The shock and outrage in his eyes, the way he flushed beneath your mocking touch, the shameful excitement you could see building within him... it's burned into your memory.

But even as you savor your victory, you can't shake the sickening realization of just how depraved he truly is. His obsession with Lucilla, his twisted love... it's a danger to them all. And now, with your defiance and resistance, you've become a threat to his power, his control.

You toss and turn beneath the covers, trying to ignore the unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You know you did the right thing, that you had to protect Lucilla from his foul intentions. But you also know that you've made a dangerous enemy tonight.

And the morrow will bring new challenges, new battles to wage against the tyrant who calls himself emperor. But for now, you allow yourself a small, triumphant smile as you imagine Commodus in his chambers, dealing with the evidence of his own shameful arousal.

Tomorrow, you'll need to be more vigilant than ever. But tonight, you can take some measure of comfort in knowing that you've stood up to him, that you've denied him the twisted pleasure he sought.

With that thought, you finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of the future and the battles yet to come in this strange, dangerous world of imperial intrigue and power plays.

Commodus slams the chamber door shut behind him, the sound echoing like thunder made by Jupiter himself in the cavernous room. He leans against the polished wood, his hands fisting in his dark hair as he tries to regain some semblance of composure. A low groan tears from his throat, a sound of frustration and shameful arousal.

The audacity of that woman! The sheer nerve of her to speak to him, to touch him in such a manner. No one, not even the senators, dared to address him with such disrespect. And yet, she had not only spoken her mind but had also dared to lay hands on him, to strike him like a mere servant!

He walks towards the desk, his vision hazy and thoughts consumed by the lingering sensation of your fingers digging into his skin. Grabbing the decanter of wine, he pours himself a hefty cup and downs it in one greedy gulp, welcoming the fiery burn as it slides down his throat as he goes on the balcony - Rome before his feet.

But even as the wine clouds his mind, his body remains painfully aware of the throbbing ache between his legs. He can feel it, straining against the fabric of his tunic, a testament to his shameful excitement.

"Damn her!" he snarls, slamming the cup down on the desk. "Damn that little harlot!"

He paces the room like a caged lion, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, humiliation, and an inexplicable, dark arousal wage a war within him. He's never felt so... so out of control.

How could you do this to him? How could you stir such base, shameful desires within him? He's the emperor, the god on earth, and yet you had reduced him to this pitiful state with ease.

So what is he going to do about you? What punishment, what retribution can possibly suffice for the way you have defied and challenged him? He doesn't know. But one thing is certain - he won't let you get away with it. He can't. His pride, his power won't allow it.

With a growl of frustration, he turns away from the balcony, his mind already churning with dark possibilities. Tomorrow, he'll reclaim his power and his dignity.

The night stretches before him, long and full of frustrated, angry tossing and turning as he grapples with the consequences of his own shameful desires and the woman who has unleashed them.

He can no longer ignore the ache and he sits upright in his bed, his breath coming in puffs through his nose. The memory of your defiance, your bold touch and scathing words, is seared into his mind. He can feel the ghost of your fingers digging into his cheeks, the stinging slap echoing like a lewd whisper in the silent chamber.

A low, guttural groan escapes his lips as his hand slides down his torso, palming the rigid flesh of his erection through the thin fabric of his smallclothes. The shameful ache, the throbbing intensity of his arousal, is impossible to ignore. It pulses in time with his racing heartbeat, demanding attention, demanding release.

He shouldn't want this, shouldn't crave such degradation. And yet, the more he tries to push the thoughts away, the more vividly they replay in his mind. The mocking caress of your fingers, the stinging slap, the triumphant smirk on your lips as you denied him, humiliated him...

His hand tightens around his throbbing length, stroking it with a desperation that borders on pain. He's never needed release so badly, never felt so utterly consumed by the new dark, twisted desires that you've unleashed within him.

"Damn you," he hisses, his voice ragged and strained. "Damn you for making me want this!"

But even as he speaks, he's tugging at the fabric, impatiently shoving it down to expose his aching flesh to the cool night air. He needs more, needs to imagine you here, touching him, dominating him, as he chases his shameful pleasure.

His hips surge upwards, fucking into his own fist with a desperate, erratic rhythm. The obscene sound of his own grunts and moans fill the chamber, mingling with the slick, wet noises of his stroking. He's lost in a haze of lust and humiliation, drowning in the depravity of his own desires.

"Look at you. Pathetic really...", he imagines you say, mocking while watching him.

The emperor moans, stroking himself faster, harder, driven by the need to find release from the arousal you're responsible for. "Calls himself god on earth, yet here you are, debasing yourself like a nasty whore. Nothing divine there, hm?" Your voice coos in his head with clear amusement.

And with that, he surrenders to the shameful ecstasy, imagining you there to witness his debased surrender. His body convulses as the first hot, thick ropes of his seed erupt from the tip of his throbbing cock, painting his chest and belly with the proof of his debased, lustful climax.

Commodus collapses back against the sheets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. The lingering pleasure of his shameful release courses through his veins, leaving him weak and trembling.

He palms his face with his clean hand, fingers digging into the bridge of his nose as if to press away the lingering images of you that dance behind his closed eyelids. But he knows, with a sinking certainty that settles like a stone in the pit of his stomach, that he can now never truly erase you from his mind.

You've gotten under his skin, burrowed into the darkest recesses of his psyche. And now that he's had a taste of the power you wield, the intoxicating domination you can inflict, he knows he'll never be free of his craving for it.

He knows his sister could never give him something like this. Sweet, innocent Lucilla, with her gentle demeanor and kind heart. She could never understand the dark, twisted desires that now consume him. She could never dominate him, never bring him to such humiliating ecstasy with her touch and words alone.

But you... you're different. You're the one who sees through his facade, who understands the true nature of his hunger. And now that you've shown him this glimpse of what he craves, he knows he'll stop at nothing to possess it completely.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: How the war was won.

Author: @astolat

Submitter: @undercovercannibal

[smallratboy]

Headache - Commodus x Reader

Your husband Commodus has a headache, so you help him feel better.

masterlist

Commodus’ head throbbed in time with his heart, a hammer against his skull. He rubbed his forehead, trying to alleviate the ache. The senators droned on and on, his headache worsening with each hour that passed. 

“The plague continues to spread,” said senator Falco. “None of our previous ideas have worked. Caesar, do you have any suggestions?” 

Commodus looked up, the movement coming with a stab of pain. He winced, finding that all eyes were on him. Some looked concerned, others looked judgemental, most just looked bored. 

“Have we tried altering the water supply to give cleaner water?” He suggested, trying to sound like he was in control. If a simple headache threw him off this much, how could he lead? 

“We discussed that already,” Gaius said, his tone clipped and frustrated. Commodus sighed, pressing both palms against his temples. Gods, he needed to get out of there. 

“Perhaps the meeting should be adjourned,” one of the senators suggested. “The emperor seems…unwell.” 

“I am fine,” Commodus snapped, standing. His head ached, the pain spreading across his head and down the nape of his neck. Still, he would not let it show how much it bothered him. So, for three more hours, Commodus discussed the plague with the senators. 

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Commodus fell into his chair. He put his head on his desk and covered his head with his arms, blocking out the light. He wanted to shut everything out, as if he could hide from the pain which insisted on finding him. 

You walked into the courtroom, searching for your husband. You hadn't seen Commodus all day, which was unusual. He sought you out when he was done with meetings, seeking comfort in your presence. You had decided to look for him, assuming he was busy with other things. 

You saw him hunched over his desk, looking like he was sleeping. He was still dressed in his armor, a crown of laurels nestled in his dark curls. You put your hand on the back of his neck, whispering his name. 

“Commodus, my love,” you murmured “Are you awake?” 

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes squinted to little slits. You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He looked up at you, a pained sadness evident on his face. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, kneeling down to his level. He shook his head, wincing. 

“My head hurts,” he said, sighing. You nodded, understanding. Commodus was prone to pushing himself to the very brink, going days without sleep or proper food. His paranoia also prevented him from resting, and he was always on edge. It was no surprise his body was starting to show the signs of his unrest. 

“Come,” you said, standing and taking his hand. “Let me help you.”

Commodus took your hand and followed you as you led him to the baths. The water was warm and the room was full of steam, light from the setting sun shining through the high windows.  

You began to take off Commodus’ armor, relieving him of the heavy material. He sighed as you undressed him completely, and you pressed kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck. 

You made him sit in the water, and you sat behind him on the edge of the tub. The water was scented with rose petals, and bubbles of oil shone on the surface, softening his skin. He rested between your knees, and you slowly helped him relax. 

You took a cup and filled it with warm water, tipping his head back and pouring it in his hair. You rubbed sweet-smelling soap into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails. Commodus let out a contented sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. 

You poured warm water over the back of his neck and the top of his shoulders. You rubbed soap into his skin, paying special attention to loosening the tension held at the nape of his neck. Your hands worked against the hard muscle, and you felt Commodus turning to putty beneath you. 

“Feel better?” You asked, kissing the top of his head. Commodus nodded, sliding into the water. He floated on his back in the tub, enjoying the feeling of being warm and relaxed, his headache slowly fading. 

You joined him in the tub, pulling him into your lap. He pressed his face against your neck, wrapping his arms around you. 

“You're magical,” he whispered, smiling at you. You ran your hand through his wet locks, bringing his lips to yours. 

“I love you, too,” you murmured.

an: if you liked this, let me know!! I love seeing what people think of my work:)

taglist: @darknessisafriend

[streets-in-paradise]

Fixing Gladiator by making chained up Maximus do this to Commodus:

He pretends he is tilting his head down in respect, as if he is bowing to him, then knocks him down. Praetorians applaud, Quintus doesn't do shit (as usual).

( Idea by @wildsaltair, based in my own stupidity)

[wipbigbang]

The 2025 WIP Big Bang & WIP Reverse Bang Are Open For Sign-Ups!

Welcome to a new round! We're bringing back the OG WIP Big Bang, which is for finishing fic and getting art to go with it, and introducing the first full round of the WIP Reverse Bang, which is for finishing artwork and getting fic to go with it. All fandoms/ratings/ships are welcome, including original works!

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[apollosgiftofprophecy]

THE COMPLETE COPOLLO MASTERLIST

Desperately looking for fics to satisfy your obsession with the RRverse's most dumpsterfire of a ship? Look no further than this post :3

I have Copollo fics ranging from Ao3, FF.net, and here on tumblr! Each fic will be linked, and if the author has a tumblr (that I know of - if you know their tumblr let me know!), they will be tagged.

Also, before we begin, I would just like to say that when I say every Copollo fic I can find is on this list, I mean all of them. This includes fics that are canon compliant, crack, aus, and those with darker tones. If that isn't your thing, all you have to do is avoid clicking on said fics. They're all organzied very nicely if I do say so myself. Nothing more to it :3

Look below the cut for the list! If you have any fics that slipped between my grabby fingers let me know so I can add them! :3

Roman Empire Era

A Cruel Occasion by @seductivegrapethrowing

Grapes and Blood (German) by Buttons_Buttons (Rated G)

Fairness by mothmansaysgayrights (Rated G)

The Death of Emperor Commodus by LusiaLovegood (Rated G)

Long Life to You by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Call Me Commodus / Today I'll Be Your Ruler / I'll Also Die Here by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Of Broken Promises by @money-and-dandellions (Rated G)

Keeping Warm by @soleil-in-retrograde (I reread the Copollo part of this over and over :3) (Rated T)

vow by @daisy-mooon (Rated T)

my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

Always Told You Not To Love Me (Now Look What You Made Me Do) by anxious_tofu (Rated E)

ghost of mine (you're taking up all my time) by anxious_tofu (Mainly perpollo, but there is Copollo :3) (Rated E)

i’ll break your little heart in two by Anonymous (Rated E)

By me

Death's Embrace (Rated G)

When the Day Met the Night (Rated G)

When Everything's Wrong, You Make It Right (Rated G)

no one can say what we get to be (Rated G)

drunk off that love, it my head up (there's no forgetting you) (Rated G)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand (blood on my shirt, heart in my hand) (Rated T)

Trials of Apollo

Canon Compliant

As Far As I'm Concerned, You're Just Another Picture To Burn by @solahflare

It Isn't Love, It Isn't Hate, It's Just Indifference by @solahflare

A Pity by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

forget - me - not by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated G)

Song of Apollo by @tsarinatorment (For the Copollo crumb within :3) (Rated T)

Fractures of the Mind (Heart) by me :3 (Rated T)

The Devil Within (His Mind) also by me (Rated T)

Chapter 5 of some ToApril drabbles because my head is as empty as Meg's by orphan_account (Rated T)

Divinity, Fire, and Former Lovers by @seapinecone (Rated T)

Aus

All's Fair in Love & War by me (Rated G)

It'll Be Okay by Apollo4612 (Rated Fiction T)

i loved you dangerously (more than the air that i breathe) by @okathleen (Rated T)

i will only break your pretty things by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

i'm a bad liar (with a savior complex) by me (Rated T)

@daisy-mooon

Taunt (Rated G)

Outnumbered (Rated T)

Blindfold (Rated T)

Spark (Rated M)

By ifyouseemetellmetogostudy

and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started (Rated G) (nom nomming)

God of Truth (He Never Knew) (Rated G)

you make this place hell (Rated G)

Humus Ericius Diem (Rated G)

Triumvirate Wins Au by bacchis

to eros, in secrecy

den of the lion (Rated E)

there are a couple more fics in this series if you're interested but only the two above have brief Copollo moments (i will admit this au lives rent-free in my brain)

AUs

Winds of Ruin by me (Rated G)

The Moon Brooch by @trials-of-apollo-my-beloved (Rated G)

Coward by @nyaningthroughlife (Rated T)

Moonrise by me (Rated T)

And historians will call them close friends, besties, murderers of each others’ souls by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated T)

The Human Within The Sun by SassyTrio130 (Rated T)

Veruca by cactusstudy (Rated M)

Hazbin Hotel nonlinear AUs

Stayed Gone by me (Rated T)

Hell Hath No Fury by me (Rated T)

Crack (when i say every fic, I mean every fic)

It's a Fun Time in Commodupolis! by Anonymous (Rated M)

Dark

Nothing Like The Sun by Cola_bubblegum

Day & Night by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash) (Rated E)

TAG LIST: @moodyseal @plastikstarz @hazardous-lightdas12 @worlds-oldest-teenager here it is! :3