#commodus x fem!reader

[lafiola]

incest, forced kiss, forced touching, commodus x fem!reader

The midday was intense and humid, a kind of crackling heat that confused the perception of the distant as if it were slowly melting under the warmth of the sun. You played with these shapes, from your throne high in the coliseum; barely protected by the shadow of a loom overhead, covering the followers of your brother, Commodus, and the noisy absence of your sister. You hadn't been able to find her in the morning.

The noise of the masses and the awakening of the hungry fury of the gladiators could barely distract you from the sweat and discomfort of the dry air. Boredom and hunger distracted you from the divine choice; your brother's voice barely reached your ears.

His hand, however, brought you back with the usual heaviness of his caresses on the contours of your face. You found his eyes on yours. A look darkened by the offense of your lost attention.

"Sister," he muttered through his teeth, forcing a smile. Natural sweetness under a tinge of shame, "you have left me alone. Rome and the Gods have waited for your verdict at my hand, and you have left me alone."

"My apologies, Commodus," you shook your head softly, leaning back against the back of your seat. "I think this heat is working against me. I feel sick."

"You should have stayed in bed."

"You wouldn't have attended the duels if that were the case."

"We could have stayed in bed," he insisted, returning to his seat.

'We could,' you repeated in your head, stifling a sigh. Since your arrival in Rome, after the sudden death of your husband and the murder of your children, seeking to drown your grief in the arms of your father and your siblings, you found yourself faced with the sudden departure of said lord father; and the seizure of power by your brother, whose sense of life and its natural rules had been altered by an altercation with his common sense.

Commodus had always been a sensitive boy, haunted by sorrows and obsessions. When you saw him at the head of armies and an empire like Rome, you thought that perhaps this would be the past—a forgotten child at the bottom of a drawer. You were wrong. If anything, it would have been your face soaked with tears, the fact that it was his first time seeing you after so many years, or the need for a feminine affection that came close to that of his deceased mother; but Commodus continued to behave like that same obsessive child, sick with wild needs.

Not only had he not left your side, attached to your hip like a parasite, but he had also intruded into your room to force his body into your bed; to share the warmth of your serene figure under the blankets, distributing caresses that you would soon discover were the product of an intense desire barely hidden under the face of a serious and harsh ruler.

That morning you had no desire to get out of bed. You had dreamed of your children, of your husband, and you just wanted to continue worshipping the memory of their voices in your head. Until Commodus burst into your chambers; forced a pair of jewels onto your neck, onto your wrists, just as shackles would be on a slave surrounded by misery, and dragged you to his side into the coliseum. 'Because siblings must be united,' he had told you with a smile. A big smile, and darkened eyes. Desire.

A chill ran through you as the match ended. A pair of dead gladiators was all you could see before you turned to look at your brother. He was already looking at you.

"Do you think today was anything memorable?" he asked you softly.

"I think I need to sleep," you whispered. "I'm tired, Commodus."

"You still look as beautiful as ever, sister. Not even the most divine sorrows will disturb your soul."

"I feel quite disturbed."

"Would you like to be escorted to your chambers?" One of his hands wrapped around yours. His thumb caressed your skin. "We could rest; enjoy a pleasant afternoon among delicacies, and delight in some poetry."

This time you couldn't stifle a sigh. Commodus let out a barely audible laugh, standing up and pulling your body towards his. A small hug; an eternal kiss against your cheek, barely sliding down to your neck before breaking contact. You didn't dare look around—embarrassment kept you from meeting eyes with anyone who saw that.

"An emperor has work to do," you whispered. Your breath against his drew a little whimper from him, completely incomprehensible. "We can talk and eat later, Commodus. Go and do your work. I'm not going anywhere."

His lips trembled in indecision, but he found the early reason needed to form a small smile. His body moved away from you; his hand still held one of your arms, running over your goosebumps.

"I know," he whispered. "I know that very well."

Nightfall brought with it a refreshing breeze. From the balcony of your chambers, wearing a pair of light petticoats and with your hair loose, you enjoyed it, closing your eyes when the caress of an icy wind ran down your neck like a pair of gentle hands. A shiver ran through you from head to toe; a nearby sound forced you to wake up. The moonlight helped you draw the figure of Commodus behind you—his face devoured by the darkness.

You brought a hand to your chest, stifling an airy laugh. “Oh, brother, you’ve taken me by surprise. What brings you to this place so late?” You stood up immediately, concentrating the annoyance of his presence between your hands clasped over your belly. “I thought there would be a banquet.”

His response was incomprehensible. He had to clear his throat, moving closer to the light to uncover his face. You found a pair of bright eyes, and an almost wild longing in them.

"The banquet ended suddenly," he replied in a low, secret voice, "and I found myself unable to sleep as soon as I found myself in my chambers. I thought that reading might impair my vision, as you advised."

"And how could I help my dear brother?"

One step closer to you, and his hands were able to wrap your body in a shy hug; delicate as the touch of a petal. You reciprocated that gesture until your heart ached with anguish.

"How much I've missed you, you have no idea," you heard him whisper against your neck. "What you've suffered, my dear, is irrelevant to everything you have here, with your family and with me."

"You are my family, Commodus," you said, your voice shaking. "Thank you so much for your consideration."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" His face left your side, resting in front of yours. "I wish I could keep you company and chat for a bit."

"I don't need company," you replied softly, "and I don't think I have the ability to hold a conversation without collapsing from exhaustion."

"Then I will support your body while you rest, sister; and I will make sure that on this night no daring of your troubled mind will destroy your dreams."

Commodus tightened his grip on your body, indicating that he would not take no for an answer. Despite knowing that he would be incapable of harming you on purpose, you nodded and let him guide you to the bed, where you rested silently in the darkness; away from the moonlight shining through your balcony, and the refreshing breeze that penetrated the chambers like a cold tongue from beyond.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against the bed. Commodus followed moments later. His sigh swept over your face with a warm caress; one of his hands ran over your hip, staying there. You tried with all your might not to push it away. Your brother insisted with the caress, silently measuring your limits; bringing the tips of his fingers close to the edge of your petticoat, forcing you to close your legs in an almost instinctive movement.

"It's like the first time," he said quietly; a shy tone again. "It's like when we were kids."

"We're not kids anymore," you replied agitatedly. "Commodus, stop it. Please."

"We used to be very close before father decided to let you go."

"It was my decision."

"You were very young, you hardly knew what you wanted. I thought you were satisfied here, with me and Lucilla."

"Life isn't that simple, Commodus." You pushed your hands against his chest, listening to him sigh. His breath, the ghost of a sweet liquor, swept over your face again. "This isn't right."

"We are not so different from the Gods," he whispered, approaching you abruptly. Your hands ended up against your chest, your lips against one of his cheeks; a moan stuck in your throat. "We are connected by blood, we are connected by a bond that we cannot see. In this darkness no one sees us; away from the halls no one hears us. It is you and me, like when we were children—"

"We're not children anymore!" you cried softly. "What happened was a mistake, Commodus. We were clumsy, curious children."

"And we're not anymore," he insisted with a whimper. "And I need you; every day, sister, when I daydreamed of you, and now that I have you here, too. I still dream. They're all dreams, and as a man I feel helpless."

"This is unacceptable."

"I can't help it."

You swallowed hard, breathing heavily.

"Do your lips miss the warmth of a kiss?" he asked. "Does your body miss what you don't want to admit?"

"I miss my husband, brother," you replied hopefully. "I miss him so much."

Commodus’ hand rested on your cheek. His thumb ran over your lips, entering the warmth of your mouth against your will. You had to relax your jaw, moving your teeth away from his flesh, using your tongue to taste the sweetness of a fruity reminiscence.

"Don't talk about him," he said. "A dead man has no place in our bed."

Tears clouded your eyes. 'Our bed,' you repeated in your head like a prayer. Everything that was yours was always his; everything that made you up, Commodus had to attach to himself. You were one. That's what he wanted—you couldn't deny it. Influenced whim spoiled the one who was once close to you, and now an ordinary man, with the fervent desires of a stranger in front of a woman's body. That was what he thought of you: not a sister, but a woman.

Commodus' thumb was replaced by two more fingers, running over the roof of your mouth, soaking his knuckles in your saliva.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered against your cheek, "the same way you always took care of me."

You shook your head, pushing your hands against his free one; fighting against the other fingers that tried to get between your clothes, brushing the inside of your thighs. As soon as you managed to pull your hands away, Commodus' fingers left your mouth, and the pressure of his body on yours left you immobilized. In the darkness you found the shine of his eyes, like small stones.

You let out the rest of your tears, struggling against his brute strength; fighting until exhaustion, falling under him again. Your gasps and his were the only things you heard, little closer to the murmur of the wind outside.

"Please, Commodus," you sobbed, "you are my brother and I love you very much. I love you with all my heart, Commodus. Please..."

"That's why this is a beautiful thing," he insisted pleadingly. "From this union something beautiful could be born, yours and mine. Something ours." His lips moved across your face, drinking in your tears and soothing the burn on your skin. "You're mine again now. I couldn't bear the pain of having to share your flesh; the anguish of knowing that somewhere in the world, you rested beside an undeserving man."

"That man was my husband," you said. "You are my brother, Commodus. We are family."

"What is a title, but a mere word; empty and useless in the face of our needs. I am a man in love, in need of a woman," he replied. His lips rested on yours, just for a few moments. "You are more than I could ever have wished for. You are everything Rome means to me."

"The fury of the Gods will fall like a rain of fire upon us."

"It must burn, then," he sighed. "Let it burn in our name. If I am to have you and it is not here, it will be in death."

[fawninthesnow]

Could you please do a femme dom reader x emperor commodus fic ? :)

Eeee!! This was so much fun! <3 Thank you!

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧: One shot

𐙚 Emperor Commodus x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the empress of Rome, married to the immature, Commodus. After an outburst, you chose to ignore his horny pleads.

Warnings/contains: fem dom, sub emperor, sub male, smut, oral (fem receiving), degradation, alcohol consumption, obsession, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 1.3k

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

He paced the edge of the balcony, looking down at the distance between him and the stone path. “Bring her in.” The emperor spoke bitterly. The throne room doors were thrown open and a guard walked behind you.

The shackles around your wrists rattled as you walked, a leather gag between your teeth. Your dress flowed naturally with every step. You did not need to speak, the hatred for him cut through your gaze. You did not attempt to talk, that would only make him laugh. You were not here for his entertainment, regardless of his intentions.

“Come closer.” You stood straight, your two feet were planted on the tile. “Come here!” You shifted your eyes away from him and to the tanned guard who led you inside. A rather sly smile on your lips as your disregarded the man. “Bring her here, dammit!” The guard, now with pink blush over his cheeks and nose, pulled you closer to the emperor. Commodus grabbed you by your throat, pulling you close enough for your nose for touch his, “You will respect me in my palace. This is my empire, and I demand respect from every man, woman, and whore! Now, you will love me! You will love me, [Y/n]!” He gripped your neck tighter.

You laughed, a bit a saliva leaving your mouth due to the gag. With a struggle, you pulled off the gag, your wrists felt raw from the strain and weight of the shackles. “Someone undo these.” You turned away from him.

“Look at me!”

You continued to look away from him, “Get these off of me.” You said softly to the guards around the room.

“Yes, my empress!” One guard ran to your assistance and unlocked the shackles.

“I will have you killed.” Commodus angrily spat. “I will have you killed!” He leaped at the man, a hiss sound from his mouth.

You moved the guard from the way, “Commodus, leave the room!”

“You do not tell me what to do.” He said, keeping his gaze on the guard who you so calmly protected.

You ignored him and received a warm woven coverup from a servant. “Ignore his outburst. I am going to turn in for the night. Please be sure my fireplace is ablaze.”

Commodus turned to the sight of you leaving the throne room. You were so unbothered by him, unfazed—beautifully so. He sneered at the loss of attention from you. He huffed; his heart began to thump rapidly in his chest.

He quickly followed you until you reached your corridor. He peeked around the corner of your quarters, looking inside. You warmed yourself by the fire and gently rubbed a soothing cream over your wrists. The windows in your room were covered and every corner had a small pit of wood burning to keep the space warm.  “…May I come inside?”

You looked over your shoulder at the man who faced his feet. “Do not come any closer than the entrance statues.” You said rather dismissively.

“May we talk?”

“Now you are civil? Do not make me laugh, Commodus.” You said with amusement. “You have the temper of a small child, and the patience of a rich man. I guess that is fitting because you are one.”

Commodus clutched his fists before frowning, “You have said.”

“Yet you do not listen.”

“I apologize, [Y/n].” You waved a hand of dismissal and continued to prepare for bed; your attention on anything but him. “I mean it this time! I truly do!” He went to his knees as you rubbed oils into your skin, massaging African shea butter into your palms before spreading it up and down your legs. “[Y/n]? Please. Please?” His laments echoed throughout your chamber; his hand dared up your soft thigh.

“Stop!” You slap him across his cheek, “You whore!” You stood above him, a look of disgust on your face. “I want nothing from you. You are a disrespectful, worthless boy!” He basked in the pain from your slap, soaking in the heat of the moment. “You do not deserve a dammed thing from me.” Your fingers held onto his jaw, a tight grasp that marked his face red. Your nails were long, manicured and your skin was smooth. Your beautiful face so close to his made heat rise from his loins to his cheeks. “You know the only reason I maintain composure is to please your father’s wishes, rest his soul! I do not want to see your face, Commodus.” His manhood grew stiff and sensitive beneath his clothes.

He clenched his jaw in your hand, a deep gulp made his Adams apple shift downward. “But I missed you.”

“That is not the way to bring me back to the palace.”

“You ran away from me!”

“You are paranoid. Get out of my sight.” He remained at your feet; his hand rose to your hips. You slapped his cheek again. The man bit his lip, letting his palms rest on the marble floor. “You lack discipline. Your father could not give it to you. Now that I am here, you seek some sort of sexual relief from me?! I am not your common whore, you bastard!” He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes. The reflection of fire in his full irises.

“I love you, [Y/n]. You are my empress.”

“That is right! I am! So how dare you embarrass me?! Embarrass yourself!” You let go of his face, your nails scratched his face as you left. “Go with your whores, leave me be.”

“Please…please, my love.”

“I am not your love, you dog.” You spat down onto his face. He moved his tongue and fingertips, moving your saliva into his mouth. “You are filthy.”

“I would do anything for you.”

“No, you would do anything *to* me. You are unwell. Sickened with power.” He nodded, rubbing the side of his face against your hip. From his robes, his shaft grinds against his thigh slowly. A pleasurable moan left his lips as he continued. You moved away from him and sat on the plush chair across from the fireplace, your feet rested on an ottoman.

“Please, look at me.” You said nothing, shifting your eyes towards the door. “I do not want to leave, [Y/n].” His voice cracked, leaving him embarrassed. “Please.” He continued to rub himself, however, deriving little to any pleasure from it.

You poured yourself a glass of wine and sipped from it. “You are pathetic.”

“I am.” He continued to stare at your beautiful face as you drank.

“You deserve nothing from me, might I repeat.” You finished off your glass as his head lay on your lap. His fingertips pull at the fabric of your dress, shifting it away. “I was a princess back home. I had more freedoms than I have now as Empress.” You mumbled rather to yourself as he buried his head between your thighs. You paranoid fuck…” A moan slipped from your mouth as his warm tongue circled your clitoris. Your thighs tightened and raised in shock. “W- wh-“

His head hid under your dress as he suckled on your firm clitoris. You could feel your womanhood throb with need upon feeling those sensations. “I- I’m sorry.” You held the back of his head, keeping him still. His tongue was quick and skillful as it flicked against your clitoris. His thumb gently held up the hood of your clitoris; barely moving. Your thighs trembled; an unsure panting left your lips.

Commodus moaned back as your warm walls engulfed his tongue. His nose pressed against your clit; his lower face now wet with your mess. “C- Commodus! I h- hate you!” He could not see your face, not that you wanted to see his, as two of his digits slipped into your slippery cunt. Your fingers tore into the upholstery of your seat. His tongue lapped and sucked on your clitoris as his fingers dug deep inside of you. The pads of his fingers pushed up onto your sensitive spot.

You felt yourself climax over his fingers, however, he continued. Your cunt pulsed with pleasure. “M- my empress.” The man muttered as he suckled softly on the center of your clit.

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

Thx for reading!! Happy new year! <3

Frohes neues Jahr, meine lieben! Ich habe diesen Monat eine neue Serie und kann es kaum erwarten, sie zu teilen! Mwah! <3

[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!

[streets-in-paradise]

Mercifull - Maximus Decimus Meridius x (Fem)Reader

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Warnings: Confession of suicidal thoughts ( reader makes it and he talks her out of it), some age gap ( reader is young lady fan in age of looking for marriage).

Summary: The company of your favorite gladiator is the only bliss your father has been able to obtain for you since the rule of Commodus got you fearing for your lives.

Bought in clandestinity through the aborrecent mechanisms of roman corruption, your one moment to show Maximus thankfullness for the positive impact he had in you becomes your time to present him with a small part of the comfort fate has denied him through his endless sufferings.

Notes: First piece of Gladiator fic I ever written, inspired by the lovely @wildsaltair and an idea that wandered my mind post rewatch. Despite the grim topics in the warnings, I need to clarify it is mostly a comfort fluff

Maximus wasn't counting with more visits at night and the reminder of Lucilla's warnings regarding the depraved customs of wealthy ladies in Rome haunted him when he got the news. He would have yet to receive someone else, fault of his increasing popularity. It was matter of time untill fame would bring that sort of attention to him and he despised it. Forced to be in the presence of the buyer of instants from the misserable life he had yet to live, he would deny them of the one thing they really paid for. Frightening disdain could be enough to make a corrupt rich matron think twice before venturing.

Once he had you face to face, you confused him to no end debunking all previous assumptions. In his eyes you appeared like a portrait of innocence. A polite young lady that smiled for him with shy blush, not the attitude expected for a lascivous woman seeking satisfaction for her wicked desires from a gladiator. Nerves kept you awakardly silent as you advanced towards him and Maximus followed your every move with disconcerted curiosity.

Only after the guard allowed you some privacy, he finally got to hear your voice.

" It's a great honor, … to be in the presence of the most honorable champion … "

You suddenly interrupted yourself, giving him the impression of a previously practiced introductory speech falling due to excitement.

" … I brought you a humble present, just a honey cake. Self made, none of my slaves were involved. Unfortunately, the guards said we can't have it … What is a shame, because I thought something sweet would be comforting for your spirit. "

Adoration of the purest was all you were showing him. If he could have any doubts about what kind of woman you were, it was all confirmed for him.

For the first time since his life was ruined, something amused him enough to throw a few chuckles.

" You shouldn't be here. What would happen with your suitors if the rumour spreads that you frequent champions at night? "

The inmediate, correct implication showing he knew you couldn't be a married woman had slightly shamed you.

" Do you think that troubles me now? A lot has changed since Commodus crowned himself emperor. What used to concern me feels meaningless. Great damage has he inflicted in such brief time! Giving him a lifespan to rule, he will be the downfall of Rome. If the world our people have built may end, I can at least spend a small portion of my family's fortune for a meet with my favorite gladiator. "

Despite presented as sensical reasoning, your comment made him wary for motives that you couldn't possibly predict.

" Did Lucilla send you as last resort to soften my heart? "

You didn't feel called out in any way and replied with increasing honesty.

" I have no business with her, here I am on my own. My desperate father paid hoping our meeting could reanimate the walking corpse his beloved daughter has become. Your performance in the arena awakened her from the letharge and for once she resembled herself again. "

Unsure of what you meant, he tried to disuade you the best he could.

" He wasted it, I have nothing for you. Not even legendary words of comfort you may treasure for the rest of your life. If an infatuation with the shade of myself you saw brought you here, I'll have to warn you there is no life left in me to share. "

The dark warning had a contradictory effect. Probably because of the frustration caused by such terrible start of the encounter with your idol, some of your initial shyness was slowly dissipating.

" My two brothers gave their lives for Rome, only so Commodus would claim mine! " You admitted right away, controlling yourself to not indulge in reckless yelling. " I know, I saw it in his eyes when I had to swear loyalty to him out of fear. My father ... I am all he has left after sickness claimed my mother and war deprived us of my brothers. Commodus will come for me first. Sooner or later, he will. His wicked smile haunts my dreams turned into nightmares. Your company is the last wish of an innocent who fears herself already sentenced. Can't you not grant such small mercy? "

Maximus no longer could show himself detached from your pleads and your strange fascination became more understandable to him. Far from a superficial admiration, you were moved by his claims. Was that the sort of power Lucilla attributed him? Inspiring terrified people and awakening the conciences of those who remained numb of distractions? He was once a general, but it was not his place to be a revolutionary leader.

And yet, he couldn't help to feel intrigued about your story. He was not in the place to reach you any comfort, but could grant the mercy of listening to you. After all, yours was a moving image for him. Youthfull enough to make him suspect you could as well be a beloved daughter and someone else's fiancee. Innocent and kind, sweet and respectfull of a mere slave.

He relaxed his closed fists, then gave only a few steps closer to you to test if you weren't going to retrocede out of any possible fear of pyshical closeness.

" I am not a good companion, a balsam for desperation, but would like to know what made you expect to find that in me. "

You remained in your position, glance turning softer again before you looked at the ceiling as if you would be confessing yourself to both, him and the gods.

When your eyes were back on him you shrugged, making him smile from amusement.

" Everyday I see the masses supporting him I experience the powerlessness of Cassandra as the trojans cheer arround the wooden horse, because she knows the terrible secret it hides. All what's left for her being the repugnant hands of the lesser Ajax, Agamemnon and the axe of his wife. "

Revisiting the first impression he got of you, Maximus found the comparison fitting. Not because of the terrible fate it augured, but because the image of the beautifull princess cursed with awareness suited with your ways.

" Who am I in this? The priest of Neptune doomed to die for sharing your truth? "

He made you chuckle, but you resumed seriousness to insist with your point.

" You exposed the truth nobody wants to hear loud enough for them to stop ignoring it, and in that I found hope. Your ragefull bright could have burned the cursed artifact of Ulysses. Inspired by it I dreamt of outliving this curse falling upon us."

Your will to share was reaching dangerous territory, but you felt so comfortable with him that you didn't mind to make him the keeper of a secret not even your most trusted slaves knew.

" Before I found you, I was inclined to believe my only way to win would be following the path of the egyptian queen. Take my own life on noble, painless terms before he would command for me the most horrible and humilliating of deaths. My only hope, Maximus, was dying celibate. It was your vengefull hunger for survival what inspired me to think otherwise, ... to crave life. And I am here to show my grattitude, because for a brief instant you made me live again."

It baffled him, incapable of conceibing he could have such strong amount of influence from his position as a doomed entertainer. Aside from the scandall he caused revealing himself, his actions had palpable concencuencies in the most unexpected ways. His cursed existence had a meaning for some, a very real and touching effect on them. Thinking it from the perspective of political manipulation, the sister of the emperor forgot to mention it could reach beyond that.

" My life is brief, girl. I may die tomorrow and what would be left for you to look up to? Survive for your father, your loss would weight too heavy in his heart. Become the wife of a fortunate roman and make him proud. A family to look after will give you the purpose you lack. "

His advice induced you into a very obvious, but delicate conclussion.

" They are your purpose, the reason why you haven't given yourself death yet. Only in your memories they remain, and in the day you will perish, the last glimpse of their existence goes with you. "

Tears began to fall down your face and the sight contained his anger to a mention done by a stranger about his massacrated family. For as incredible as it was, you were the very first person willing to join his mourning.

"You are clever to interpret feelings in the way an augur follows divine signs. "

He managed to bring out one more smile in your still tearfull countenance.

" I suppose that saying I am sorry for your loss would come out as a very empty gesture, but if you indulge me, I will do better to reach you a humble expression of the comfort that was cruelly denied to you. "

The distance between you was shortened at every instant by action of your own approach. Before he would dare to object, your arms were trapping him in an intempestive hug. His chained wrists remained still in their position at the sides, restricted his movement by the ties and his suprise. Your sweet embrace was squeezing thight his firm form, head resting on his chest as if you intended to hear his heart beating.

He stayed there, numb to the comfort that the heat of your body and the scent of jasmines in your skin produced him. From the most ironical of places had someone succeded on the impossible task of caughting him out of guard. Not the fighters on the arena, or the emperor of Rome, but a sweet girl and her infinite kindness.

Unable to respond by receiving you in his arms, he placed a chaste kiss on top of your forehead as soon as you tilted your head up searching for his face.

There were no more tears left in you, only the sweetest delight.

" There are certain moments that can worth for a lifetime and I will treasure this as such. "

He smiled against your skin and pressed another peck.

" You will live again, even if I will not be there to see it. You are strong, way stronger than you think. The kindest roman that my new life has put on my way. "

The praise embarassed you and confused you simultaneously.

" What difference can that make against a monster like Commodus? He has no mercy."

" That doesn't mean he is not fond of finding it on others displaying it for him. " He clarified before completing another advice. " Adoration keeps him pleased. Show him just a brief glimpse of what you have done for me and you may disarm him, like you had disarmed me tonight."

Authentical disbelief to the implied confession made you overlook the rest.

" Have I done that? "

" Your arms are still rounding me. " Maximus reminded you with sweet amusement. " Do you think I would have allowed that if you wouldn't had awakened some sort of weakness? "

You released him a inmediately, raising up your hands with an innocent expression.

" I only meant to comfort you, to share the flame of hope you awakened in me. "

" And you did, … but now it's time for you to leave." He thankfully disencouraged you. " The more time you spend, more dangerous it becomes. If his spies haven't followed you, rumours could lead to a similar end. I want you to never show fright in front of him again, but you will if he finds a reason."

The reminder was sensical and you didn't protest against it.

" Thank you for your mercy, Maximus. "

In that he intepreted your acknowledgedment for the emotional closeness you both had reached through the encounter.

" I could only respond to your mercifull ways, good lady. "

[londonfog-chan]

Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader: The Goddess and The Cupbearer

A/N: You know what the Romans did a lot of? Looking at omens and star charts.

I set out to find the worst possible combination of zodiacs. The nightmare duo apparently is Aquarius and Virgo. I am a Virgo, and with my many Aquarius friend experience, that Aquarius + Virgo combo is the OG “we can make each other worse”. You gotta be able to laugh off the trauma at dinner afterwards if you wanna hang with the air and earth hell match.

Credits: @ghoulbloggerrr for the dividers, @writhingg and @rxqueenotd for reading my clown shoes writing, and @trashmouth-richie for seeing and putting up with my foolishness in the DMs

Warnings: General debauchery and toxic relationships, referenced abuse and neglect, references to Commodus from the first movie, general talk of “pure bloodlines” because those fucking imperial families, man…, clown world

“The priests suggest that our nuptials should be delayed until the third week of Juno. Would that please you?”

You huffed. Stuck out your left hand with the gaudy gold gilt ring. A cold, steel glower— your father’s stare— marred the softness of your otherwise beautiful features.

“I am to wait so long to have my husband?” You snapped.

“It would be an auspicious month.” Geta replied, pulling you in closer to his side, “It will bode well for our union, and encourage further good omens to come.”

A gentle cough erupted from your throat, causing you to clear it. The shawl of gold and purple damask around your shoulders slipped to reveal your pink linen stola.

“Did they not read our stars?” You asked, “What of our alignments? Surely that would be auspicious enough to warrant a disregard of my illness.”

Geta laughed, readjusting your silken shawl to keep you warm.

“They certainly have read our stars.” He laughed, “We are apparently quite the… difficult match.”

He recalled the grave face of the augury when he came before the senate and the co-emperor. As predicted, the augury did indeed suggest that Geta and you wait until your current illness abated, to prevent such an omen from destroying the impending marriage.

“His majesty would do well to wait until the third week of the month of Juno to commence the marriage proceedings.” Said the old priest, “We have read both the stars of the future empress and his majesty, though… I must express my concern.”

“What is your concern?” Geta had asked, his amber eyes narrowing in anger.

“Sire… the future empress is born under the stars of Proserpina.” Said the augury, “And your excellency was born under the stars of Catamitus. The Virgin and the Cupbearer of the gods are not the… traditional match one would assume.”

“Bother tradition.” He had snapped, “I want my wife.”

There was much whispering and dissent among the members of the senate. Half wanted to call the whole thing off, for fear of the calamity such a match would bring. Yet there was a majority outcry against delaying the marriage. You were the senate’s last hope for the reclamation of the people’s favor. They looked to make you into a beacon of hope, one that would soothe the imperator’s wrath at being denied an adoption into the former imperial family’s line of succession.

As her child, your mother’s shining reputation had yet made you the successor, where Geta and his brother were yet still the empire’s pariahs. By reputation alone, you would change the tides of history. While your future husband would be the head of the empire, the senate sought to make you the neck: that you might turn Geta any way they so wished.

“But excellency… you must consider the potential disharmony from an unbalanced match.”

“And what is this disharmony?!” Demanded a member of the senate.

“Well…” said the old man, until he was interrupted by his young acolyte.

“His majesty would consider that those under Proserpina’s stars are not weak willed women.” Said the younger acolyte.

The augury attempted to speak, but Geta held up his hand to silence him.

“You.” He said, pointing to the young acolyte, “Continue.”

Riding the high of commanding the attention of the room, the young man puffed his chest out before he continued.

“Proserpina’s women are driven by logic and stability, constant and reliable as the changing of the seasons.” Said the young man, “The sons born under Catamitus-…”

The augury tried to cut in, laying his hand against the bulla of his student.

“Catamitus’ stars encourage independence and nonconformity. The antithesis to Proserpina’s proclivity to order and stability.”

“And that is true.” agreed the young acolyte, “However, it is irresponsible and inconsiderate to the imperator’s marriage to assume that logic cannot coexist with independence!”

“So you believe,” he began, “That these attributes can coexist and… what? Compliment one another?”

“My lord.” Said the acolyte, “Should Catamitus and Proserpina intersect, their union would be unstoppable.”

He spread out the well cared for charts on the marble altar, along with notations and omens that had been discovered.

“Logic and nonconformity may be to the ignorant eye a combination of oil at water,” said the young acolyte, “Yet we must not deny that those ruled by logic and reason hold the key to doors previously bolted by a warding lock.”

The young man had seemed to argue in favor of the arrangement. While Catamitus may have compelled Geta in the pursuit of pleasure and freedom, Proserpina’s stars were apparently the path that would lead you both to prosperity. It was argued that such a conjunction of strong wills could move mountains.

“Yet sire… please consider…” begged the augury, “Proserpina’s children are stubborn and unyielding. Women who will not yield to their husband’s will can only cause misfortune. The driven nature of the astrological signs are as different as the elements. Earth and air… it is unthinkable! Imbalanced.”

It was as Geta had suspected. He asserted often that he knew you were not a weak willed woman. You were every bit cunning and calculating as he had suspected you to be since your first introductions.

You were a challenge, a gamble. An obstacle.

It would be pleasing to Geta to break or make you.

“Your opinion is astute, old man.” Geta said, “And yet, I am afraid your opinion has only further stoked the flames of my passions. Perhaps it is the thrill of the hunt, or perhaps it is the thrill of having an empress that will not yield. A challenge… a gamble, if I may. I fail to see the consequences of two different elements.”

“Imperator!” He begged, “I beg of you to reconsider. Such a union would not ensure a prosperous bloodline.”

“She is the heir of Commodus, is she not?”

“Yes but…! Unification between you and the heir would bode disastrous! One would always have to yield to the other for harmony, creating conflict and strife. Matters of ego will tear the heart asunder!”

“And what would be the impediments to a harmonious unification?” Asked Geta.

“The frequent clashing of wills shall burn the empire to the ground!” Cried the augury, “You will find your wife’s overbearing arrogance a thorn in your side, and she will find your domination an affront to her vanity!”

“But consider the unification’s origin!” said his acolyte, “Their connection was, as predicted, instantaneous and deep. One would know the thoughts of the other, their collaborations in matters of state would bring the favor of the people back to the empire!”

Ruminating against the scours of papyrus and wax tablets, the youth began to make countless arguments against his teacher. Evidently, a veritable trove of good omens had been given by the gods for your impending union. Such blessings could only be bested by the fates themselves emerging from the heavens to sing prophecies at the reception after the nuptial rituals.

“Consider the omens at hand: the woman is of noble birth and pure blood, already the people look favorably upon her piety and reputation derived from the mother. The flight patterns of the swifts were also analyzed during her auspicious birth. They were trending high, a favorable omen. And…! Upon the annunciation of the imperator’s engagement, a lightning storm took place in the easternmost part of the empire. A blessing!” exclaimed the acolyte, “In reality, these nightmarish foretellings of their clash of egos are naught more than seed tilled in secret to sow doubt.”

“Foolish boy!” exclaimed the elder augury, “You do not answer the imperator’s questions, you simply seek to defend your point!”

Geta watched the two begin to argue in morbid fascination. Captivated by their arguments as though they were butchers cleaving one another to pieces. It had taken his roar to call the two to order, demanding further details of the match and why the augury was so hell bent on breaking the engagement…

“Enough…”

You waved your hand, as though you could wave away the wine tinged words of the emperor. The more he spoke of the dissenting argument that had taken place before the senate, echoing the consequences of your union, the more your stomach began to churn.

With a grimace, you pulled your shawl tighter over your chest. A shuddering sigh escaped you, and you began to retreat into some secret place within your own thoughts as your gaze lowered to the garden floor.

“My lady…” Geta probed gently, his fingertips touching your cheek, “Have I displeased you with my tale?”

“That will be enough.” You groused, trying not to cry.

Geta’s arms tightened around you possessively. There was nothing more you could do except lay there on him, your own stubborn nature trying to keep your body language lax. As if by this microaggression, you were able to rebel against he who would be your husband.

“Love…” Geta whispered, “Have the words of the augury displeased you?”

“No.” You said, nodding your head as if trying to banish the welling in your eyes, “No, why should it displease me? These things come from the gods themselves, do they not? Obviously my own ego and vanity should act as a fine shield against their poisoned barbs.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded ruefully. The circumstances of your tragic life from birth until now weighing heavily on your heart. Rejected by your mother, who saw you as a grim reminder of a traumatic conception and the loss of her son, it was as if a curse had marred your life. Venus seemed to hold her grudges, but you could not understand your transgression. Instead she punished you. Withheld love until you went looking in dark places for it. And now, it seemed because of the stars you were born under, you would not be able to find happiness even within an engagement to the debauched and disgraced emperor.

“Yes. I suppose it is true, is it not? Air and earth are two very different things, indeed. Birds are content to take wing upon the air to pursue freedom, what more does the earth below do for them? They crash upon it and die, and should their nest fall, the eggs cradled inside do not survive the impact either. Fitting, I suppose, that the gods would make my love life a farce…”

Though your words were biting and spiteful, Geta knew the declaration of the augury had cut deep. Your false smile contrasted against the tears you shook free from your eyes, trembling shoulders giving away the fact that your stone heart was crumbling into pieces.

Geta could not stand to see you in such pain. There were already countless bitter poisons poured into your cup, handed vinegar rather than wine in the form of emotional disconnect from your mother, a stepfather that was constantly away on campaign in the name of the co-imperators. Behind it all, like the miasma that made you ill, was the looming shadow of the man who had sired you; a yoke too heavy to bear alone thrown over your shoulders.

You did not deserve vinegar.

“Look at the ring I have given you.” Geta demanded suddenly.

Your laugh was bitter.

“I suppose it would make sense you would wish to call off the wedding.” You said, making to pull off the golden band, “Here, let me give it back-…”

“Hold your tongue, impudent woman. Your emperor has commanded you to look upon the band, not take it off.”

You huffed, holding it up to the sunlight– the solar rays filtered through the interstice, created by the leaves of your stepfather’s laurel tree.

“Do you know the stone setting in the band?” Geta asked, his cadence soft, almost sweet.

“It is amethyst.” You deadpanned.

“Your observation is incorrect, my lady.” Geta said smugly.

“And you are a blind fool.” You snarled, “What other stone is purple aside from amethyst?!”

“Hold your serpent’s tongue, before I order it carved out, love. Look closer.”

You reluctantly obeyed, seeing nothing more than the deep purple of the stone. The ring was the same as the day Geta had gifted it to you: a thick golden band on the second to last finger of your left hand, carved with intricate embellishments. The not-amethyst was surrounded by miniature diamonds, a rare and lovely ring that symbolized your betrothal to you opulent fiance. When your eyes drifted down along the cabochon, you noticed at one point the stone had begun to change color: an ombré of violet and indigo yielding to golden tangerine.

“What is this?!” You exclaimed, “The stone is of poor quality?!”

Geta laughed. Laughed so hard he nearly had a coughing fit trying to compose himself.

“Careful love, your acucity in the matter of precious gems will have you casting pearls before swine.” He teased, “That is not a flawed amethyst. It is something else entirely. Something that only you and I will possess.”

His large hand overlayed with yours, a matching ring containing an obnoxiously cut chunk of the same gem on his own engagement hand. The larger stone he owned captured the stark difference far more perfectly than your diminutive cut. From purple to orange, the polished cabochon gleamed like a wet, juicy grape in the sunlight next to yours.

“During one of many campaigns, my generals had bestowed upon me various rare gifts from those whose lands I have claimed for my empire.” Geta said, his free arm wrapping around your body.

“This stone was one of many curios brought to me; a spoil of war that had great significance to the ruler whose head was cleaved from his shoulders. It is not amethyst, but something else of an entirely different make. The captives of this conquered land called it ‘ametrine’.”

“Ametrine?”

He nodded.

“It is a sacred stone. An amalgamation of two entirely different rare stones: amethyst and citrine. No other mine in the world contains such a stone, and perhaps there are no more, other than the specimen that made these cabochons.”

His lips caressed the skin of your cheek. Legs curling up in pleasure, you closed your eyes as you inhaled his spiced scent of mulled wine and patchouli.

“They are cut from the same stone, my love. And are they not a perfect symbol of two different attributes? Gold and purple, purity and passion, domination and submission.”

His kisses were growing heated, tongue lathing gently upon your neck.

“It is a perfect representation for what our love will offer the other, do you not agree?” He whispered, tongue running along the length of your carotid artery, “Beauty in the joining of opposites, a prize that no one else in the world possesses, save for you and I. Our will and ego will clash spectacularly, as they already do, but does our passion not burn all the brighter?”

You shivered. His affections became more intimate, a ringed hand scraping gems over the soft skin of your breast and nipple as he reached possessively into your stola.

“We are not alike, in many ways this is true.” Geta observed, “Yet our differences complement one another, and our love is perfect.”

“… a joining of opposites, and perfect love…” you echoed.

You watched as your fingers slotted between his on both of your left hands. The band on your hand had been made in such a way that when you held hands with your beloved, your engagement ring meshed seamlessly with the gaudy gold band and large cabochon he wore. Such care and attention to detail had been taken in the creation of the wedding bands, that it looked as though the stones had not been parted at all.

It was a testament to his decadence and arrogance… but it was so like him, to have the same attention to detail that you did.

“It is fitting, isn’t it?” You asked, cuddling in closer, “The cunning and debauched emperor of Catamitus joining forces with his pious, brooding empress of Proserpina.”

“Indeed it is, my darling.” He murmured, “We are in many ways alike, wouldn’t you say? Trapped in our own individual prisons, seeking something that the other alone cannot provide…”

“I fear for the empire.” You laughed, squeezing his palm, “For I can only imagine what horrors our combined traits would produce in heirs.”

Geta’s laughter was cruel, and ugly as he held you tighter, the hand at your breast moving to touch your warm stomach.

“You are right to be afraid, my love.” He grinned, “We shall produce heirs that are not fit for this world. Ones that are both cunning and earnest, pious and debauched-…”

“A debauched, power hungry army of sons and daughters, who would have both the drive to seek power and pleasure, and the intelligence to retain it for a thousand years.” you laughed, “By the gods, Geta. Our heirs would burn the world up, and then turn the torch upon one another.”

He could see it himself. At least ten children, decuplets, perhaps half daughters, half sons. Squabbling in your womb for the right to be first conceived. Biting and constricting one another with the umbilicus until they emerged punching and kicking each other out of the womb. Throwing their toys and baubles at one another, punching and kicking until they came of age, old enough to command legions of their own to do battle on the very empire they stood to inherit.

“That they would, my love.” Geta laughed, his mind still on his nightmarish brood, “They would turn the world to ash, and use their own royal blood to slake their thirst when the lake of sanguine of their creation at last runs dry.”

“Gods have mercy.” You laughed.

Both of your shared peals of laughter echoed in the garden, an evil sound to others. But to the both of you, the sound was full of warmth and joy.

“But… but!” Geta wheezed, untangling his hand from yours as he wrapped your entire torso in his embrace, “There is yet a sweetness in the destruction.”

“A sweetness?” You laughed, looking at his flushed cheeks, “You are drunk, Geta.”

The imperator cackled again, the spicy scent of mulled wine still evident on his lips.

“Perhaps, but still consider the following: from the ashes of our children’s destruction, we can yet find potential for creation and renewal. An endless cycle of destruction and chaos from our heirs would only further occupy their time away from us.” He said.

He was barking mad. Stark raving, his senses had completely left him.

“So we would let our hell spawn burn down the world. While you and I argue, make love, clash with our egos, and generally mishandle and act like idiots?” You asked, the giggle still caught in your throat, “What of the empire? Would it not suffer?”

“Who cares? We wouldn’t be alive to see it fall, anyways.”

For a moment, there was a bit of hesitation. Sure the world had torn your heart asunder, left you alone and destitute, your heart empty of every emotion save for apathy, misanthropy, and the rare spurts of love you felt for Geta. But did the world really deserve to be turned to ash? Just because it had nearly killed you with trials and tribulations, did you really need to be flaunting your mismatched love so blatantly in front of the gods…? Surely, you thought, you should be sober and martyr yourself like your mother. Dreaming of an ideal of peace and harmony rather that discord and destruction.

But then you looked up. You saw the ash and kohl lined eyes of Geta as he grinned down at you, the mixture of white marl and cerussa crumbling in some places on his face, revealing the flush drunk cheeks underneath. His golden laurels were askew on his tangerine locks, and the pupils of his amber eyes were dilated.

You glanced down at the silk shawl you wore. Tyrian purple. The silk skeins had been a wedding gift from Geta, crates upon crates of spun silk for you to work on the warp of your loom. Already you had completed your wedding trousseau. The lack of sleep and neglect of your health was caused directly by the desire to work the skeins into something lovely.

Orange and purple. His tangerine curls, your tyrian purple shawl.

You were reminded of the ametrine ring on your finger.

A combination of two different stones.

Complementary colors.

A perfect love.

“The hell with it all.” You laughed, tossing your head back carelessly, “Let the stars of Proserpina and Catamitus create a chaotic, beautiful world.”

[rosesloveletters]

midnight rain.

pairing: Commodus x Fem. Reader

word count: 3,777

warnings: toxic/unhealthy relationship dynamics(?) and mentions of specific gender roles (I don’t know how else to describe it)

summary: A retelling of the ‘frightful dream’ scene . . . Your husband Commodus requests some time alone while he reads scrolls from the senate. When night comes and he still has not sent for you, you take matters into your own hands; you find him fast asleep, but never at peace. // Reader stumbles upon her husband Commodus who’s been crying and offers him comfort. 

author’s note: I never thought I’d write for Commodus again and I am so pleased that inspiration struck! A few things before reading: I am not trying to promote toxic masculinity or the idea that men shouldn’t cry or express emotion, but at the time, it would have been viewed as a weakness especially from someone of Commodus’ social standing. I wanted to delve into his mind a little and write a softer side to him that he surely has, but that we did not see too much of onscreen. His descent into madness intrigues me and I wanted to explore that in this fic somewhat. All seriousness aside, I just want to hold Commodus while he cries and writing this allowed me to do so, at least, in some form. If you read this fic, I hope you enjoy it. 

Edited. 

The emperor was midnight rain.

Winds rich with humidity blew through the open palace halls, carrying the pungent scent of fresh herbs, smoke from guttering torches and the heavy rains yet to come. Storms were brewing on the horizon and while the people of Rome slept, unbeknown to them, there too was a cacophonous melody playing inside of their Caesar’s tired mind.

It was far too late for you to be wandering the palace alone, but Commodus had bid you leave; he was to spend the twilight hours poring over scrolls from the Senate, as his father was apt to do in the past. The young emperor sought not to follow in his father’s footsteps, but be that as it may, some things cannot be helped.

You had busied yourself in the gardens earlier, when the light still stretched across the sky and plunged the Roman landscape in a vibrant orange glow that slowly faded until the wispy clouds high above your head twisted into a mesmerizing purple-pink majesty. You found solace amongst the flowers, watching idly as little bees busily buzzed from bloom to bloom.

When the light died and you still had not been sent for by the emperor, you took leave of the gardens and reentered the palace through the open doors.

Inside, you made yourself comfortable in the library for a few hours to delve into a book or two, devouring the words on each page like your mind was starved of food for thought.

Immersed in another world were you and did not pay mind to the bustling which took place beyond your imaginings.

Servants passed through the halls, completing their evening duties, lighting torches for ease of sight as the night set in, cleaning the already spotless floors, checking and rechecking stock to be certain there was enough of everything… Even the ghastly praetorians and their looming, statuesque figures faded while you were so captivated by ink on a page.  

As the pitch black of midnight bled in through the outer walls of the fortress, the hustle and bustle of evening had dissipated considerably and the only prevailing sounds were those of the whispering winds through silk curtains billowing in the minor disturbance or a barely imperceptible clink or grate of armor as a praetorian moved from his post.

Still, no word from your emperor.

That fact disturbed you, though you knew he was safe. The palace would have been thrust into chaos had anything been amiss, yet it still gnawed at you that this was highly unusual.

Commodus was protective to a fault and rarely let you out of his sight for any length of time, but he had been pulled in many a direction for the duration of the week at hand and you had to find entertainment where you could. The Senate and the people of Rome needed him now; you could wait.

When Commodus became emperor, everything changed like midnight.

You put your book back in its place on the shelf and quietly crept from your sanctuary. Your guards, stationed at the door, fell into step behind you and trailed you down the hall like phantoms of night. It felt silly to be so cautious inside the palace, but it was Commodus’ orders; what was the use in listening to him if he was just going to forget about you?

Turning, you dismissed them and, with a shared, confused expression between the two of them, they branched off and left down a side hall.

It appeared that you were finally alone, but such was never the case in Commodus’ domain.

You forged ahead beneath the watchful gaze of praetorians you knew were there, but you could not see them. They were there for your protection, to diligently guard the palace and the emperor, but their strict stoicism and the serious air about them made you nervous. The unwavering loyalty between emperor and his personal guard was strengthened by one man’s resolve, though your Commodus had been plunged into manic paranoia until it became oppressive.

Your footsteps carried, heightened by the fact that there were no other movements or sounds coming from elsewhere to blend with yours.

You took yourself straight to Commodus’ chambers.

There were two guards posted at the doors that were still shut tight. All was as it had been when you left, except these guards were fresh and bright eyed, having replaced the two that had been there before.

You approached them and bid they let you enter, “I request that you allow me access to the emperor’s chambers,” you said.

“Caesar has requested that he not be bothered,” one of them spoke, unconvinced to let you pass despite your connection to the emperor.

“I can assure you that, should Caesar be displeased by my admittance, it will not fall upon your shoulders.”

They seemed uncertain, but soon relented, stood aside and allowed you to enter.

You did not want to disturb him and you did your best to keep any sound of your entrance to a minimum as you slid through the doorway and into the vast room.

The cold floors were contrasted by the wet winds that blew in from the open terrace. Night was well under way and you were worn, though your walk from the library to your emperor’s chambers had accelerated your heartrate considerably. It would be nice to relax with him, alone, if he had found himself at a proper stopping place with his scrolls.

Upon initial inspection, the room looked relatively unchanged. The desk was still covered with open scrolls, parchment and ink. His quill rested idly by and, though all appeared well within your initial inspection, the only thing out of the ordinary was that the emperor was missing from his workspace.

You cast a look over your shoulder, noting the miniature scale of the colosseum was unchanged, and your searching gaze landed on the bed. Commodus was curled in on himself tightly, his back to you, as he snoozed lightly on the plush mattress.

You smiled to yourself, reasoning that he must’ve gotten so absorbed in his work that he’d not realized the time, grown exhausted and retired for the night before he could send for you.

Odd as that may have been, it was plausible. Commodus had never been known to have forgotten you before, but things were different now. He made a conscious effort to please the Senate and that meant spending extra time revisiting scrolls, passing legislation and participating in, as well as negotiating, Rome’s politics with the dry old men your emperor had once been so critical of.

Commodus rarely slept, at least, undisturbed sleep was near impossible for him to achieve. Perhaps the scrolls kept him from thinking of it, you thought, and that was why he had been able to visit the land of dreams, but you were relieved that he had finally found peace.

Your fingers skimmed one of the jade marble pillars as you shifted about the room, uncertain of how you should bridge this gap. Torchlight streamed in from the carved stone latticework, coating half of the room in a spectacle of oddly shaped shafts of light, including the curtains which framed the imperial bed.

To avoid the embarrassment of awakening him, you swiftly removed your sandals so that the noise of you walking would not echo. You shivered as the chill of the marble floor penetrated your skin and sank deep within you – a pleasant reprieve from the humid air.

However, when the wind blew in through the open terrace particularly hard, you drew your yellow stola in closer about your shoulders. You noticed that Commodus’ own garb had been removed – his cape and armor lay on a table not far from the colosseum model – and he slept in just his tunic.

It puzzled you that he lay on top of the linens and your brow creased in thought.

Tentatively, you approached the bed, careful to remember to step up onto the raised platform; the thought of tripping and unceremoniously toppling onto the emperor of Rome as he slept was not a pleasant one, but the thought still made you smile. If something of that nature were to happen, it might make Commodus shriek in terrible fright and send the guards at the door into a frenzy, but once he realized it was only you, there would have been no repercussions, only gentle laughter as he pulled you into the bed beside him.

You had fallen in love with the young Roman prince, before he had become emperor, three summers ago when the heat of late August was not the only thing which left you feeling breathless.

There was nothing he would not have done for you then and that was still the same now, even if everything else was different.

You remembered fondly how he had courted you, eventually asking for your hand in marriage and how you had eagerly accepted. You were wed the summer before this; little did you know those few months would be the last time that things would ever be so simple.

You sank onto the bed and the mattress dipped beneath your weight.

Commodus murmured softly and folded in on himself a bit more, instinctively protective of his vulnerability. It pained you to witness his paranoia, even while he slept. The ever-present thought that at any given moment someone might burst through the door and try to hurt him kept him from ever letting his guard down completely. That, among other things, kept him awake most nights.

The torches and oil lamps still burned bright; the fuel had been replenished earlier by some servants while Commodus was busy with his scrolls. Your heart ached for the young man who never slept in the pitch black of night; he was afraid of the dark and maybe that was why he never would look in the mirror either, because that same darkness lived in him, too.

You were compelled to reach out and touch him, then, gently stroking your hand along the curve of his face and as you did, you gasped in surprise, almost drawing your hand away; his warm cheek was damp with tears.

It had not been long since the emperor had fallen asleep, cried himself to sleep, you painfully reminded yourself.

Why had he not sent for you?

Resisting the urge to wake him, you shifted your weight as you settled in behind him and draped an arm over him. Soon, the solid press of his back against your front eased your nerves and you carefully and deliberately reached up and combed your fingers through his dark hair. He cooed softly in his sleep, sniffling a little as he relaxed beneath your touch. The tension flooded out of his shoulders while you held him like this. Even in his sleep, he could sense that the comfort was yours, brought to him by his cherished wife who loved him more than his own father ever had.

His father.

Commodus had tried to be the son that the great Marcus Aurelius had wanted. He had tried to make his father proud, but nothing he had done was good enough and, what was worse, he did not know why. Why did his father not love him? Commodus did not know the reason, but in the end, it was clear: Marcus Aurelius had longed for a different son.

Since then, Commodus had tried to squeeze love from various sources but it never satisfied him.

Not until he met you.

“My love…” you whispered to him, careful to lift him gently out of his dreams, “please awaken and talk to me.”

Commodus moaned and for a moment you were not sure if he had heard you until he responded with a full-bodied stretch and the rustling of fabric met your ears as he turned to glance at you over his shoulder.

His eyes were green like freshly sliced limes and just as bittersweet; they were red-rimmed and tired, lined with dark circles that alluded to the many nights he had suffered through without sleep.

He said nothing, but turned over until he was able to wrap his arms snugly around your shoulders. He remained that way for a time, clinging to you while his body adjusted to wakefulness after the impromptu nap.

His heavy eyelids fluttered and his head dropped to your shoulder, “I’m sorry…” the apology was whispered into your skin and you almost did not hear him.

When he looked up at you with an almost childlike expression on his face, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand and stroked across it with the pad of your thumb, “Commodus,” you started, “is everything alright, my love?”

He craned his neck and kissed your palm, “it is,” he said, “now that you are here.”

Your hand fell away and reached for his, sliding your fingers into the spaces between his own thicker digits. He squeezed you tight, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he looked away again, “I meant to send for you, but I was in such a state…”

He did not need to tell you more. He had been crying, that much was confirmed by the drying tear tracks upon his smooth cheeks and the redness in his eyes. Commodus’ emotions were often left unchecked; he felt so viscerally, violently and brutally and the tears would come, whether they were born out of pure sadness, or frustration and rage.

It was one thing to express emotion, but it was another entirely to witness it from the emperor of Rome.

The only time he could fall apart was when he was by himself.

He was supposed to be a fearless hero but instead he cried more than some women did and that was unacceptable.

At least, it had been for the stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, who had once grown tired of his son’s outbursts. Commodus doubted it would be any different now. The palace was his own, but this new life was not.

He did not want his servants or his guards to see him crying while asking after you; that was not an image he wished to paint for them.

While he waited for the tears to subside, he had relaxed on the bed until he succumbed to his exhaustion.

“That is alright,” you assured him, “I was reading in the library for a time because I thought you were still at work.”

“No,” he responded, the dulcet tones of his honeyed voice was indicative of sleep, the vestiges of which still clung to him like ivy on stone, “I finished with that some time ago. These senators demand more from me each passing day that I have no choice but to work as I do now, just like my father had done.”

That sentiment hit some nerve within him and was certainly the source of these tears and what had brought them forth, “Commodus,” you repeated his name but the sound of it did not reach him.

He was looking through you, unsettling as that was, he was prone to it. Often did you wonder what he heard and saw in these moments that were lost to the wind and rain. These elements were, too, present within the emperor who was waning into crescent, tearstains glittering like stars on his cheeks – this man was made of midnights and he was hauntingly beautiful.

Only, when the darkness had overtaken him, he did not reemerge anew.

You tenderly kissed his forehead; his skin was warm against your lips. He drew you closer through the barely imperceptible inhale as his nose rested at your collarbone and you tilted your head back, allowing him to find comfort where it was needed.

He had dropped your hand in favor of holding you while his full lips pressed bruising kisses against the bare column of your neck. Your fingers found his hair again, giving it a gentle tug of affection that made him groan appreciatively.

He lifted his head and leaned close, his sweet breath fanning across your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. His eyes flickered in the lamplight as he looked at you, “do you know what my father said once?”

You languidly chased his lips with your own, but he eluded your desires, resolving to let you capture and conquer him in his own time, when he was ready.

“I don’t,” you replied, “won’t you tell me?”

“He said that it’s a dream…a frightful dream, life is.”

You looked into Commodus’ eyes, but he was somewhere else. You did not have the courage to speak up until he asked you, “do you think that’s true?”

You hesitated, momentarily assessing how best to respond.

“Sometimes it is,” you settled on a half-hearted agreement for now and his shoulders slumped into you as though out of some sort of relief.

“And I have only you to share it with…” Commodus’ eyes brimmed with tears and he bit back a sob, “but I have no proper time with you now. It is all like some great nightmare!”

Your arms encircled him comfortingly and you rubbed his back to soothe him, understanding that his tender state was in part the fault of his father who had failed him as a child, but also because Commodus was just so tired. In his fitful sleep, it was difficult to reach him, but even more when he was awake because he could not escape his nightmares even during the day.

There was a slowly burning madness inside of him and soon it would boil over.

But, not tonight.

“Shh, Commodus.”

You held him close while he cried, shoulders shaking with the force of each painful sob that carried and reverberated off the palace walls and made it seem all the louder.

You pulled him in against you, your bodies flush to one another and you could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest.

Commodus scrounged for love in every aspect of his life, searching for fulfillment in dealings with his guards, the people of Rome and occasionally even the senate. He desired love himself, but he also wanted to be the provider of love to his people because if they respected him then perhaps, they might love him, too.

It was you who gave him what he needed, only, it seemed that it was not enough.

He had an empire to run, scrolls to read, legislation to propose and citizens to care for; Commodus was meant to be an emperor first and a husband, second.

His sobs grew quieter and more restrained, changing from full-bodied cries to soft whimpers. Your cheek rested against the crown of his head, your hand still rubbing his back as you held tight to him.

Many times had you found yourself in this position, but few of them were like this.

The tearful emperor would have been perceived as weak by anyone who might have seen him like this, but not you. You knew what he was capable of, even if no one else did. The moon might only reflect the sun’s light back upon the shadowed earth, but there were things one could only dream of that lurked in the darkness that not even the light of day could brighten. There, too, were demons veiled by the emperor’s dark side and once in a blue moon they were revealed by the light.

He was quiet now, but he breathed deeply, dragging in oxygen harshly through his nose while his cheek rested gently against your chest. He could listen to your heartbeat in this position and his lips bore a marginal smile.

“You know I love you,” Commodus whispered to you in that unassuming, hushed tone his voice took on when he was calm.

His lips found purchase on your neck again and you released a pleased sighed, “and I love you, too.”

The storm had passed.

The drought had been the worst, but the rain was over and the clouds had begun to part; Commodus was returning to himself, and after the downpour, you both would flourish again.

When he was overwhelmed, Commodus had to purge the emotions that consumed him.

“Shall we ready ourselves for bed, darling?” you posed the question as not to disrupt him; he seemed comforted by your closeness, satiated and remedied now that you were in his presence once more.

You felt him nod once, “I think that would be for the best,” he agreed, lifting his head when the sound of rain suddenly flooded into the room.

Beyond your chambers, the sky opened and rain came down from the heavens like you had anticipated might happen into the night. The gods were crying with the emperor, watering the lands of rich, fertile soil for the flowers, plants and food that would grow here.

Commodus smiled wistfully as he gazed out to watch the droplets fall to earth, “What did you mean?” he asked.

The sudden question perplexed you.

“Meant what, darling?”

“That life is a frightful dream, only sometimes,” he clarified, “implying that it is not so all of the time.”

He had turned to look at you and your heart skipped a beat. Your lover’s eyes held their usual mischievous brightness that enchanted you, sparkling like springtime and full of icy vitality. His full lips parted as he waited for your response and you had to steel your imagination against kissing him instead.

Your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck that had grown long enough to curl a little, “well,” you began and felt him press even closer, if that were possible, as he hung on your every word, “life does often feel like a dream to me, but not always an unpleasant one.”

“Yes,” he appeared childlike as he agreed with you, “I suppose that for all of the unpleasantness, there are still good things.”

“Like you,” you said, “us.”

Commodus expelled a brief, lighthearted chuckle, “you are right about us, my love.”

That is a good thing. We are a good thing.

You heard the admission in his voice, he did not need to say it because you felt it. It was there, in all that he did. You were enough for Commodus and you always would be, even on days when he was pulled in different directions that did not lead to you; he would always come home.

The love was present in the way he held you, kissed you, made time for you, loved you.

Yes, Commodus loved you.

He always had.

[sunny-writes-flowers]

“Pieces of broken glass.” Summary: "Commodus had a long day and he longed for nothing more than a bath and a particular young servant."  

Rating:  E(+18)

Statut: One Shot  

Relationship(s): Commodus x fem!Reader  

Warning(s): Angst; Explicit description of smut; Emperor/servant relationship; description of female and male bodies.

Commodus had had a long day of meetings and negotiations with his advisors. He was tired and frustrated by their constant bickering and conflicting opinions. As he returned to his chambers, he longed for nothing more than to relax and unwind.  

The warm glow of candles flickering against the marble walls, welcomed him. He was still wearing his royal garments, a deep red tunic embroidered with gold thread, and a heavy fur cloak draped over his shoulders. The first thing Commodus did when he enters his room, was to order his servants to fill the large, marble bathtub, with steaming hot water. He watched as they carefully poured vases of water into the marble tub, adding oils and herbs to make the water fragrant and soothing. 

With a flick of his wrist, he signaled to his personal servant, who hurried forward and began to undo the buttons of his tunic. The emperor stood still as the servant worked, revealing the rippling muscles of his chest and arms, savoring the cool air on his skin. 

Once his tunic had been removed, the servant helped him slip out of his sandals, and then his undergarment, leaving him standing there, naked. Commodus shivered as the servant quickly draped a red bathrobe over his shoulders. Proudly, he entered the bathroom, undressing his red bathrobe, showing his servants his muscular butt cheeks. 

Commodus stepped over to the large marble bathtub, already filled to the brim with steaming hot water. He lowered himself into the water slowly, letting out a contented sigh as the heat seeped into his bones. The warm water enveloped him in its comforting embrace. The steam from the water rose around him, fogging the mirrors and walls. The air was filled with the sound of the water lapping against his strong legs, as he moves. 

He leaned back against the cool marble, letting out a contented sigh as the heat seeped into his muscles. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his body begin to dissolve. The water scented with fragrant oils. Commodus felt relaxed as he breathes the sweet aroma. 

As Commodus relaxed in the warm water, his body was revealed in all its glory. Tall, muscular man with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest, his skin bronzed by the sun of Rome Coliseum. His arms were powerful, with veins visible beneath the surface, evidence of his strength and prowess as a soldier. His abdomen was strong and well-defined, with the outline of his abdominal muscles visible even when relaxed. 

As he leaned back against the edge of the marble, his legs stretched out in front of him, the muscles in his thighs and calves were taut and defined. The water lapped against his skin, accentuating the curves and contours of his body. A thick trace of dark hair ran down from his navel to his crotch. His sex swayed delicately in the eddies of the water. 

Despite his physical strength, there was a vulnerability in his demeanor as he soaked in the water, his eyes closed, lost in thought. He was a man burdened by his insecurity and fears, and the simple pleasure of a hot bath was a brief respite from the stress of his rule. 

Commodus heard the soft footsteps of a servant approaching. He opened his green eyes to see her. A young girl who had been catching his eye lately. She was standing hesitantly with a vase full of water in her arms. 

Commodus smiled at her and gestured for her to come closer, confirming her name. “You may approach.” he said, his voice low and commanding. 

The servant stepped forward, her eyes flickering up to meet his before quickly looking away. “Is there anything I can do for you, your majesty?” her voice trembling slightly. 

Commodus grinned wickedly. “ Actually, there is something you can do for me. I require a massage to ease the tension in my muscles,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.   

Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at the thought of touching the emperor’s body. The young lady nodded her head obediently, and reached for a glass bottle full of oil, pouring a liberal amount into her small hands.   

As she began to work the oil into his skin, starting with his shoulders and working her way down his arms, she couldn’t help but notice how strong and muscular he was. She had heard whispers among the other servants, about his prowess as a soldier, but seeing him up close like this was almost overwhelming. 

As she moved down his body, working her way over his chest and stomach, she felt her heart racing. Commodus was enjoying the sensation as much as she was. His nose smelling her hair, as he murmured in her ear “Lower”. His voice low and husky, “Work on my legs.” 

She obeyed. She entered the bath delicately, her hands gliding over his thighs and calves, rubbing out the tension in his muscles. She could feel the heat of his body. His firm hand grabs her neck tenderly, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of desire coursing through her veins. 

Commodus couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that she was weak under his touch. It made him feel powerful and desired. But at the same time, he felt a sense of liberation in this vulnerability he was showing. He could let his guard down in a way that he rarely experienced in his daily life. Feeling the tension in his muscles slowly giving way under her touch, the knots of stress unravelling one by one. He let out a small sigh of pleasure, revealing in the sensation of being cared for and tended to. 

She dipped a sponge into the water, and began to gently rub the emperor face, cleaning up all the sweat provoked by the hot water. The young servant found herself admiring his green eyes, directly looking at her, his hand still grabbing her neck. 

"Come here, girl," Commodus said, pulling her closer. With his fingers, he untied the laces of her dress, leaving her breasts exposed. The dress fluttering around her waist. 

"You're a pretty little thing," he said, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Tell me, do you find me attractive?" he asked.  

"Yes, Your Highness," she said softly. "I find you very attractive." 

Commodus had always been a man of passion, and he knew that he wanted her. The blush rising to her cheeks at the sight of the powerful emperor and her, being naked. 

He drew her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his as he kissed her deeply, his lips seeking hers in a frenzy of desire. The servant was overwhelmed by the passion she felt for the emperor, and she responded eagerly to his kisses, her heart beating faster and faster as his hands roamed over her body. Commodus took her in his arms, grabbing her thighs and putting them around his waist. He moved closer to the ledge, laying her on the white marble. Water splashed on the ground, as Commodus moved even closer to her small body. 

As he broke the kiss, Commodus pulled her wet dress from around her legs. Sensing her excitement, he looked at her deeply in the eyes. "You like this, don't you?" he said softly.   

"Yes, my lord. I... I've always admired you from afar." She replied, caressing his face. 

Commodus grinned, his eyes darkening. "Admired me, huh? Is that all?" 

"N-no... I-I... Highness, I desire you and I want to be possessed by you... " 

He murmured. "And I think you might just be what I need tonight." 

With these words, Commodus grabbed with his strong hands, the legs of the young woman and opened them widely, so that he could position himself between. Commodus moved closer to her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her body. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around his neck. Commodus took his cock in his hand, made some movement on his hard member, to make it even prouder than it already was. 

"Moan the name of your emperor, when he has taken you as you so desire." he said, approaching the divine entrance of the young woman. 

She straightened her legs a little, and with her fingers, she parted the hairs of her vulva, allowing Commodus to penetrate her unhindered. The young emperor moaned at the pressure his member was under as he entered her. She immediately moaned his name eagerly. 

A tear of happiness ran down her face. Commodus' member was thick and curved just enough to touch those most exquisite places on the body. He immediately began to take her vigorously. His movements were erratic, as the bath water flooded the marbled floor. He groaned with pleasure, whispering in the young servant's ear that she was tight and just wet as he liked. 

"Harder, highness, harder!" she pleaded to Commodus, her nails clawing at his back with such force that drops of blood ran all the way down to his butt cheeks. And he did, picking up the pace. Only the moans of the young woman and the water were audible in the air. Commodus being a silent lover, contented himself with grunting lightly and breathing hard, his breath warm against her ear. 

Her small hands had moved through his dark hair, ruffling it, as pleasure washed over her. Commodus, eyes closed, licked the girl's neck, greedily, feeling in his lower abdomen the pleasure ready to explode. 

Not holding back anymore, she knocked over the glass bottle full of oil, next to her, as she spread her legs even further. The emperor's breathing became louder and louder, his moaning became hoarser. A train of saliva dripping from his mouth, as he arched his hips. The thrust was particularly deeper and stronger than the previous ones, making her stutter in surprise, her eyes wide open. 

The bottle smashed against the marble, shattering into a thousand pieces, with the same intensity as Commodus emptied himself inside the young girl. Her arms positioned behind her back, holding herself from falling. Her head back against her shoulders, mouth wide open, as she felt Commodus' cum fill her like a fountain. 

She called his name, while he eagerly sucked on the nipple of her breast, as if to calm himself down. His large and strong hands, scarred by some injury from the sword's handling, grabbed the young servant's butt cheeks, pulling her closer to his member, as to be sure that no drop could be wasted. Commodus kisses her neck, biting her passionately, just his way of thanking her for the pleasure offered. 

He withdrew from her, his cock softening little by little. The emperor plunged back into the water, resting his head against the marble ledge. The young servant felt Commode's semen dripping from inside her as she sits in a more suitable position. And as she was about to enter the water to join him, imagining resting her head on his chest, Commodus closed his eyes. "Bring me some fruit, and the taster." he said, his tone indicating that this was an order. 

The euphoria of orgasm descended immediately. Shocked by reality, she understood that no matter what she would say, he would only see her as a servant. A few tears grew on the side of her eyes, as she grabbed her wet dress, Commodus raised his hand to catch her attention. 

"Clean up the pieces of broken glass, before you leave..." 

Note: Thanks for reading. This was particularly hard to write. Please don't forget to like and share and give me your opinion !

[kaiswifeblog]

FREEDOM | Emperor Caracalla x fem!noble!reader

WARNINGS: Since it's a gladiator fanfic it's gonna have descriptions of violence and injuries, references to gladiator 1 (especially Maximus Decimus Meridius and the marriage between Commodus and Lucilla , the pics are mine if I don't say it (otherwise I will credit the original creators), many things will also be in Latin since I study it, also many historical references, mommy issues from Caracalla and Geta and daddy issues from [name], the Amabilia family ([name]s family) is not a real family from Roman history

chapter 零: ante finem

chapter 一: diligite eum usque ad mortem

more coming soon...

[terry-perry]

MASTERLIST

Attack on Titan/Attack on Titan Junior High:

Levi Masterlist

Armin Arlert Masterlist

Think of Me (Erwin x Reader)

Call Your Name (Dead!Eren x Reader)

Brave Enough (Erwin x Reader)

Fatherly Surprises (Headcanons for Armin, Jean, Eren, and Levi)

Death Note:

L Masterlist

Jaded (Mello x Reader)

Game of Thrones:

Heated (Cersei Lannister x Female!Reader)

Nightly Visits (Cersei Lannister x Female!Reader)

Harry Potter:

Draco Malfoy Masterlist

Barty Crouch Jr. Masterlist

Luna Lovegood Dating  Headcanons

First Kiss (Harry Potter x Reader)

Sanders Sides:

Ferris Wheel (Virgil x Male!Reader)

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Steve Rogers x Y/N Odinsdottir: A Look into Their Love Story

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Loki Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Thor Odinson Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

She’s Gone…(Thor x Sister!Reader x Loki)

She’s Gone pt. 2 (3?)

Being Peter Parker’s Childhood Friend with Magical Abilities…

A New Home (Peggy Carter x Fem!Reader)

Protective (Captain Carter x Teen!Reader)

When I Fall in Love (Peggy Carter x Teen!Reader)

Epilogue (Platonic!Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Love Language (Tony Stark x Reader)

Only Lovers Left Alive:

Ian Masterlist

Undertones (Adam x Male!Reader)

Unwelcomed (Adam x Sister!Reader)

The Sisters Brothers:

Charlie Sisters Masterlist

Her:

Theodore Twombly Masterlist

Stranger Things:

She’s the Girl (Jim Hopper x Reader)

True (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Good Enough (Eddie Munson x Reader)

A Helping Hand (Henry Creel x Reader)

Just Want To Have Fun (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Thank You for the Music (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Corroded Coffin Cutie (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Knives Out:

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

To Die For:

First Time (Jimmy Emmett x OC) (SMUT)

Nice Girls (Jimmy Emmett x Reader)

Signs:

Having One of Our Own (Merrill Hess x Reader)

Dream This Night Away (Merrill Hess x Reader)

The Master:

Disappearing (Freddie Quell x Reader)

First Birthday (Freddie Quell x Reader)

Gladiator:

Submit (Commodus x OC) SMUT

You Were Never Really Here:

Joe Masterlist

Defending Jacob:

Andy Barber Masterlist

DC:

Arthur Fleck/Joker Masterlist

Jason Todd Masterlist

Just a Trim (Slade x Reader)

X-Men:

Warmth for the Winter (Hank McCoy x Reader)

Hank McCoy Dating Headcanons

Hazbin Hotel:

Alastor Masterlist

[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

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A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 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.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[streets-in-paradise]

Blessed Once, Cursed Twice

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Pairings: Maximus x Fem Reader/Maximus x Lucilla. (One sided) Commodus x Lucilla (just implications of his obsession with his sister)

Warnings: Pre movie, decontextualized party scene ( because i want to get it written without wasting creative time in thinking how it can make sense lol). Commodus is the reader's wingman helping her to approach Maximus because he wants him to abandon the pursue of Lucilla. Reader gets a bit mean to him because he is careless for exposing her in order to speed the thing.

Summary: For reasons beyond your understandment, Commodus has convinced you of letting him help you win over Maximus despite knowing that would go against the wishes of his sister. Trying his way goes way out of your safe zone, making you feel exposed and midly humilliated. Through your playfull little payback you find yourself before the handsome soldier.

Note: The foreshadowing elements here were Inspired in some ideas I came up with after doing this post.

Tags: @wildsaltair

The night was still young and full of promises, like your hopefull self to the thought of seeing your crush. Knowing that Maximus would be among you kept you in a beatutification race with Lucilla during your preparations, dreaming to be the one to catch his attention for once. You weren't resentfull of your dear friend, but you knew she had the upper hard and it was hard not to feel envy on your wishfullness always negated. The spaniard noble was too low to aim for her anyways, reason that should have made him more attainable for you.

Aware of your situation craving the affections of the same man, she could have showed kindness and allow you to have him knowing that he was an impossible marriage choice for her. She didn't, and you knew you would never win. Still, the flames of your lovefull hope could not be entirely estinguished and you were willing to comform with less. A sweet glance, polite conversation and some lovely smile followed by courtesy compliments would be enough to feed your daydreams for months. Lucilla could crown herself champion and you would humbly accept the second place in the race for his heart, doomed to admire him in silence for respect of your friend. It was the only arrangement you could aspire for in noble terms, because desperation haven't made you open to questionable paths to fullfill your dreams.

As an insidious temptation allways waiting for a moment of weakness to strike, Commodus repeatedly tried to open that way for you. Suspicious enough was finding him approaching you as a caring friend wanting to help, but worse was hearing his advice pushing you for a betrayal.

" You look beautifull, Maximus would be plain stupid if he ignores you tonight. " You heard him whisper from behind as he joined you in the wait for his sister. " What you really need is just release yourself from your moral restrictions and fight for him. Remember that you have as much right as my sister to aim for his affections , ... perhaps even more. "

Looking aside with caution only find him positioned in the right angle to whisper near your ear, you gave him a skeptical side eye.

" I have a concience, Commodus. It's not my fault you weren't born with one. "

He simply chuckled, advancing further to place himself beside you.

" Your stoical attitude is your curse ... Why sacrificing yourself for someone who would not return this heroic gesture? My sister had her chance of stepping aside, but it's clear she doesn't care enough about your silent suffering for that. There is no betrayal if she backstabbed you first, only an act of justice. "

He had a way with words that made the most despicable act sound sensical, logical and desirable. A true wonder of wicked rethoric, but you were well trained to spot it.

" There should be an entire academia dedicated to the study of the dark corners of your mind. We would learn a lot of how evil works its deeds. "

The callout wasn't enough to make him desist from his misterious interest.

" ... And yet I remain the onlyone who tries to help you. I must not be so horrible after all, ... the only friend of your purposes."

He leaned a hand on your shoulder and you shrugged with indifferent distrust.

" For your own convenience, although the reason keeps escaping from me ... "

Commodus gave you his softest glance, and in that moment he felt almost sincere to you.

" I find you longing relatable. "

" What can you possibly be longing for? The throne of your father? ' Emperor Commodus, the altruist' ... Or should I say Commodus, the matchmaker? It makes no sense to me, ... unless in your wicked delusion you fear a noble man like Maximus being welcomed into your family could steal your father and your throne from you. In that case I must warn you: his union with Lucilla is not your problem. He wouldn't betray you, as I would not betray your sister. "

Despite you felt closer to exposing him, he remained calm as if you wouldn't have figured out a single glimpse of his motivations.

" As soon as we will find your beloved, you will see what my wicked ways can achieve working for your cause. "

It didn't took long for him to find Maximus and practically push you towards him with a scheming smoothness that made it look a perfectly natural and casual approach. You could have admired his odd talent, if you wouldn't have been so careless of him from the moment that you saw the man of you dreams.

Splendid as usual, so handsome and naturally tantalizing before your eyes, Maximus was all smiles for you in complete unawareness of his effect in your behavior. His imponent presence made you feel small, but it did in a comforting way. You could only think of how good you would feel trapped in his strong arms, how safe and loved you would be if he would choose you for a wife.

"Pleasure to see you again, good lady."

His voice brought you back to reality and you could only smile, to what he concluded the introductory gesture taking your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles.

Strenghts were abandoning you. So easily you were falling apart for him and he began to notice it.

" As it's mine, brave lord. "

Frustrated with the slow pace of your shy demeanour, Commodus redirected the attention towards himself in order to start his interventions.

" We have found you in excellent time, Maximus. Turns out were having a very productive conversation about wants. "

His tease intented to work as encouragement for you to start flirting, but the heavy erotical undertones circunstantially lead into a wrong guess.

" Very well, your highness. As you don't interfere with my conquests, I won't disrupt yours. "

The mere sugestion weirded you enough to forget how overwhelmed you intially felt because of the inminent need to correct the claim.

" Commodus has nothing to do with any want of mine, neither I belong among his desires. "

The quick clarification delivered without thinking forced you to improvise an explanation for the words of the prince.

" … It was a theorical discussion. He despises intellectuals, but I am well read and I find arguments stimulating. "

There was a shade of relief in the semblance of Maximus when he sweetly encouraged you.

" I know, the last time we talked the notion of fate in Virgil. "

" … And you left me picking an interest in cartography. " You added for him, ecstatic of realizing he did remember you. " You are a fascinating man, Maximus. "

The polite praise impulsed his compulsion for humbleness.

" … Not as much as the brilliant minds in Rome, but I enjoy reading during the few moments of calm the life of the soldier allows. "

His admiration for what he believed to find in the capital as someone who never stepped there was almost naive.

" Rome was founded in the choice of a bribed judge. "

The satirical comment was clever as a response, but it deviated too far from the discussed intentions and Commodus interpreted it as a sign of regret that he wasn't going to allow you.

" She got polemical so quick! It's a good sign, that means you are stimulating her. "

The shame painted in your face said enough, so you pretended to laugh your blush away after his surprising and clearly purposefull lack of subtlety. He was being too direct, as if all he cared about was making it happen without considering your opinions on the process. You didn't want your feelings revealed before you could tell if there was any real chance with the man of your aspirations.

That would have humilliated you, but Commodus only cared about himself.

" I am not closed to challenging perspectives, but yours would need of a more explanation." Maximus interrumpted the silent disagreement you were having with the son of the emperor, reminding you with his attention why you were willing to make a deal with him in the first place. " That is a peculiar interpretation for the roots of Rome."

An idea came to you in order to prove Commodus you too were capable of ruthlessness. If he wanted so badly to help you out in the pursue of Maximus, he would under your own terms. Even if that would turn out uncomfortable for him, as it was for you finding your limits for tolerance to expousure constantly mocked by his lust inciting contributions.

" Because nobody wants to acknowledge Paris as the true, accidental responsible for the glory of Rome. Not when we also have Romulus. Ascanius, Aeneas or Hector. All greater men than him, yet their fates were submitted to the choice of Paris. Troy was doomed to fail no matter what path would have been taken ... but would there be a Rome without the support of Venus and Mars to the trojan cause?? Philosophers are so concerned in doing moral sanctioning of his verdict that they miss sight of what he discarded. We owe to Paris more than what we dare to acknowledge, because he represents everything the roman spirit isn't. Vain, selfish, lazy, sensuous, effeminate ... "

The callout to the prince's insecurities worked well as a playfull revenge, observing him fall for the trick as fast as the goddesses pouncing on the golden apple at the wedding of Thetis.

" His choice was an impossible one. Abandoned from birth, expected to die and then raised as a shepherd ... How would Paris learn to value noble virtues that no father taught him in? We would never know if Juno would have made of him a great king building the empire earlier with Troy as capital. Nobody encouraged him for rulling, not like the did Hector ... They casted him out. "

Using him as device to impress Maximus, you trully iniciated an intellectual discussion with Commodus.

" There is a big problem with your position: you are implying that a correct choice exists and Paris should have aimed for the throne. The underlying dilemma on the Judgement of Paris is that the intersection of curses from the loser goddesses turn your accepted bribe useless. If he favors Juno, Venus and Minerva become his enemies. "

Maximus must have found some sort of amusement or investment in what you were saying, because he was listening attentively. Perhaps it was wishfull perception of your delusional infatuation, but you could swear there was pride in his eyes as your reasoning overcame the point of the prince.

" Blessed once, cursed twice. " He summarized for you both. " He has the throne, but lacks love and military direction. Soon he surrounds himself of flatterers and starts taking bad choices while his competent generals turn against him. "

Leaning closer to him with complicit demeanour, you seeked the proximity you craved for with the argument as excuse.

" You are being too generous, my dear Maximus. That is an oversimplification of the fate that awaits this boy king. "

Acting secretive because you were about to get even stranger, you were ubicated with enough closeness to talk lower as if you aimed only for him.

" Venus is vindicative and we already know that Paris doesn't mind about being betrayed by the wife he already has, because he so easily left her for Helen. No, for him the curse would be different from Diomedes'. She would drive him mad with repulsive desires out of his control: if Minerva favoring his best general against him doesn't end his rule, the scandall would. And so, I doubt the empire Juno promised to Paris would become a reality before he would lose everything. "

Maximus was following you, but you could only stare at his lips while he delivered a complementary reply fixing the one flaw in your exposed point.

" You forgot to mention he is not the rightfull heir to the throne. In order to receive his bribe, he would have to kill the eldest brother or win an unleashed civil war, what would be hard to achieve without the guidance of Minerva."

Ignoring the annoyance menacing with turning into anger on part of your failed accomplice, who was aware that the list of adjectives you used for the portrait of Paris were a mock to him, you rushed to praise the contribution of the lovely soldier.

" That would have never occured to me! But is fantastic how alike our minds work ... Don't you think? "

The sweet smile you directed him could have melted the snow on the cold north he never wanted to get used to.

" Has anybody told you that the quick sharpness of your mind could have made of you a good strategist? "

It turned to a smirk with his praise, a rush of confidence struck you on the sudden finding of something that you knew for sure would impress him.

" Marcus Aurelius himself, ... although not in those terms. But I would rather not to talk about that, at risk of troubling our prince. He is abnormally silent and I have learn to fear that. "

Calm on the outside, his complacent yet somehow wicked semblance warned you of the comeback.

" … I was merely wondering how our friend would solve the debate. Which are Maximus' strongest wants? After all, that is the esence of the issue: a man being comfronted with his more longed aspirations. "

Detecting a tease of some kind, Maximus replied to Commodus being too faithfull to himself.

" I believe I would simply reject the bribe, your highness. "

Even if his answer wasn't necesarily a clever one, it was the most selfless presented in centuries of revisions for the episode.

" Then you would be three times cursed, because you can't reject a divine gift. " You sweetly adviced him, trying hard not to be evident in your admiration. " Three different paths shape three different men: the powerfull emperor, the victorious general and the eternal lover … Follow your instincts and pick one. "

Your voice sounded almost seductive on the invitation, what surprised you of yourself.

" I am a soldier, lady. I can't risk loosing the blessings of Minerva." Maximus added, hinting his definitive answer. "And i don't claim this as a personal ambition of becoming general, but because duty demands it. "

Commodus released a few chuckles, amused by what he perceived as naivety.

" … But you would become an invincible general of brilliant tactical wisdom! Only alone and powerless. Enjoy a lifetime of endless fighting for the gain of those you serve."

His sadly precise observation left you in a good place to present an advance in terms you felt more confortable on.

" Maximus, … would you endure a life without love? "

He turned his glance exclusively to you, making your heart race as you waited with expectation.

" It would be the hardest sacrifice, because there is more of me to consider regardless of my profession. I have no interest in joining the fate of Achilles, of dying crowned with glory as a single man. "

In his words you read the chance you were waiting for and you didn't hesitate.

" I'm tired of Rome and its innate corruption, the simple life on the province would suit me well. "

He chuckled with you, what successfully masqueraded the move as a subtle joke, but you trully hoped he would consider it.

The arrival of Lucilla would soon take the attention away from you, enforcing you again in the role of a mere watcher, but you endured it with satisfaction.

[painted-flag]

WORKS IN PROGRESS

A DRUNKARD'S PATHOS - Aegon Targaryen Series.

ׂ╰┈➤ Can be read as a stand-alone, but it will be an elf!Aegon series that takes a more in-depth look at the world of 'Of Flowers and Death' Aemond series that can be found in my masterlist. ੈ✩‧₊˚ The outline is completed and is currently being written. First part coming January 1st.

A VICTOR - Emperor Commodus Mini-Series. (JUST FINISHED)

╰┈➤ A three part mini-series that is an Emperor Commodus x fem!reader. ੈ✩‧₊˚As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST - Aemond Targaryen Mini-Series. (Three Parts)

ׂ╰┈➤ Three parts whose masterlist can be found here. ੈ✩‧₊˚ The continuation of my HOTD x Fairytales series. It will be comprised of three parts and a rough total of around 15k words.

SLEEPING BEAUTY - Daemon Targaryen Mini-Series.

ׂ╰┈➤ The next mini-series in my HOTD x Fairytale series is found here. ੈ✩‧₊˚ The outline is complete. Its release will come out after the Beauty and the Beast series is fully posted. The other series in the Fairytale project are all outlined as well.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ If you want to be added to any of my taglists, click here!

[sunny-writes-flowers]

"Breathless"

Summary: "Commodus watched her hair dancing in the wind, and her figure soaring in the cold of the end of the day. She bet with him that he wouldn't catch her. Well, let’s prove her wrong. " 

Rating:  M  

Statut: One Shot  

Relationship(s): Commodus x fem!Reader  

Warning(s): Mention of blood (gladiators fighting); Established relationship; light description of female body; light description of SMUT; Some angst (because senators loves dramas; Moderate dirty talk; Fluff. 

Commodus sat in his private box at the coliseum, his eyes fixed on the bloody spectacle unfolding before him. He was dressed in the finest clothes, adorned with gold and jewels. Next him, the senators are visibly displeased. They exchange uncomfortable glances and mutter amongst themselves clearly disapproving his way of dressing. A stark contrast to the more modest attire of the senators around him. They were resentful of Commodus lavish display of wealth and opulence, which the senators see as an affront to the dignity and the austerity of the roman public. 

Commodus, oblivious to their disapproval, sits with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, his eyes fixed on the spectacle below. Besides the young emperor, sat his lover, a beautiful and seductive young lady.  

As the gladiators fought to the death, in the arena below, Commodus turned to her. “Do you like it my little bird?” 

“As always, I will be honest with you. I’m not very fond of it. Isn’t it a little bit barbaric?” 

Commodus was surprised with her answer. Lucilla stared at the couple, fearing for some bad reaction from her brother.  

“But it’s tradition, my dear,” he protested “The people love it and besides, it’s a way for us to show our power and strength.” 

The lady smiled at him. “All I care about is you, all I want is you.” 

Commodus was intrigued by her answer. He leaned in closer to her, his eyes gleaming with desire. “Is that so?” he murmured. “And what do you want to do with me, my dearest?” 

She smiled seductively. “I want you all to myself,” she whispered. “I want you to forget about this place and everyone on it. I want you to focus only on me.” 

Lucilla slowly turned her face focusing on the gladiators again, as she saw Commodus grinned. His heart raced with excitement. “And why don't we leave this place and go somewhere more private.” 

The two of them rose from their solid golden thrones, and with Commodus' black paludamenta fluttering in the wind, they left the coliseum.  

Some senators were confused, perplexed by the emperor reaction, starting to speculate that maybe he was about to join the gladiators or maybe something displeased him. The rest of the senators were offended by the sudden breach of tradition and etiquette. “He uses most of the gold of the empire for those overdone games, and he have the audacity to leave in the middle of them?!” was indignant senator Gracchus. 

“Please, senator, my brother may have something urgent to treat.” Lucilla said, trying to calm the older man. 

“Leaving with his mistress, is that an urgent matter to treat?” replied senator Gaius. 

“She will soon be married to him,” remembered Lucilla to senator Gaius. “She is not his mistress.” 

As they spoked about the emperor, senator Falco left them and the coliseum, to follow Commodus, his praetorian guard and his lady. 

As they made their way up to the palace, Commodus’s young lady looked at him with a mischievous smile. “I dare you to catch me before we reach our room.” she said, playfully. 

Commodus chuckled. “Way too easy little bird...” 

And before Commodus could finish his sentence, she started running up the with stairs, giggling with delight. He quickly followed, leaving his praetorian guard caught out of guard. 

The young couple ran through the halls of the palace, their laughter echoing off the marble column. They dodged servants and slaves, Commodus even tossing his heavy armor on the black marble floor, to lighten his load.  

The rays of the setting sun lit his face with an orange light. The cold air of the evening caressed his face. For an instant, all disappear. His worries and responsibilities forgotten. His face bright with pure joy. Commodus wished this moment stayed forever on his memory. Everything made him remembered his lost childhood.  

Her face, looking behind from time to time, was the only thing that kept the young emperor into reality. Her laugh mixed with his, competed with the sound of the little birds singing outside the palace. Her long white dress, transparent as she ran through the orange light of the end of the day, was dancing in the wind.  

She was quick, but Commodus was faster, his long strides quickly gaining on her. They weaved through the grand hallways, past statues they will never know who they were, forgotten by history, jumping into the large fountains, not caring about wetting the marble of the palace floor with their foot.  

Commodus finally catching her in a secluded corner of the palace. Breathless and flushed, she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned in and kissed her, the passion and desire between them palpable. 

“Catch me!” Commodus shouted 

“Hey! That's not fair!” she replied, trying to run after him as fast as she could, but always staying just out of her reach. 

Finally, Commodus burst into their chamber, panting and laughing, he collapsed onto the bed, feeling vivified. “Looks like I won little bird,” he said, a teasing tone on his voice. 

“You always do.” She replies finally arriving onto the bed, lying next to the emperor. 

Commodus pulled her close to his chest, savoring the feel of her body against his. They kissed passionately, their desire growing. She responded running her hands over his chest and down his stomach. Commodus helped her undressing him and lifts her gown, undressing her in return. 

As Commodus entered her, she left escapes from her lips an eliciting moan of pleasure. They made love slowly and tenderly, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The sweat due to the effort dripped from Commodus' forehead as he pulled her legs around his waist with the help of his arms. Blood ran down his back, as she clawed at him with all her might, just the way he liked. 

“Harder, Commodus, please harder.” She repeated, as her life depended on it. 

Commodus eventually came, climaxing with a throaty growl, filling her insides with all the love he could feel for someone. 

Afterwards, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies sill humming with the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

When the young woman finally fell asleep, Commodus got up and left their room. Armed with a knife in hand, in case, he crossed the corridors of the palace, looking for a slave who could bring him something to eat. But instead, he found senator Falco, sitting down, eating grapes. 

“So, how did the games end today?” 

“You would know, your majesty, if you had stayed until the end, as an emperor should.” senator Falco replies. 

“Well, my friend, I couldn’t,” Commodus says, smiling like a child. “I had to satisfy my wife.” 

“Duty of every husband, indeed. But as far as I know, you're not married yet. And therefore, your highness, I would advise you to not disrespect the people as you have done. The games were organized by you for them. You used the collected taxes, and the gold of the empire to finance its games. If we continue to spend this money like this, there won't be much left. And what image you give to the people if you don't stay close to them, snubbing them as you snubbed the Greek quarters.” 

“You are bold tonight, Falco. Did you forget who you're talking to?” 

“No, your highness, that's exactly why I'm warning you. Your enemies are at every corner. We must be careful. They are like snakes ready to bite.” 

“Well Falco, the enemy is certainly not in my bed. Good night, Falco. Tomorrow there will be new games. Hope my beautiful wife will like chariot racing...” Commodus said, leaving into the darkness of the night. 

Note: I wrote this while thinking abouta childhood memory that touched me particularly. I also wrote this while listening to "Now we are free", because I needed a lot of emotion! XD Thanks for reading, don't forget to like and share. Please give me your opinion !

[sunny-writes-flowers]

“Dagger of Love.”

Summary: "I know today is the day of Julius Caesar's assassination, but technically, Commodus is also a Caesar, and he was also assassinated, whether in the film or in real life. So, I thought I could rewrite it, with a bit of drama, obviously. " 

Rating: M

Statut: One Shot

Relationship(s): Commodus x fem!Reader 

Warning(s):  Established relationship;  angst; murder by stabbing; implied description of smut; Emperor/wife relationship; description of female and male bodies. 

Commodus was in his lavish room, his mind filled with thoughts of his wife. After a long day of hunting and imprison his enemies and traitors, he could hardly contain his excitement as he waited for her arrival. Commodus was sat impatiently on the edge of his bed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee as he waited.  

As he reclined on his bed, his eyes roamed over the opulence that surrounded him. The walls were adorned with intricate murals, and the floor was covered in a soft, plush carpet. The room was filled with the sweet aroma of roses, and the soft sound of a lute being played by a musician in the corner. 

Despite the grandeur of his surroundings, Commodus could not shake the sense of unease that had been gnawing at him since he had returned to Rome. He knew that his grip on the empire was tenuous, and he was acutely aware of the dangers that lurked around every corner. 

But in the company of his beloved, he could forget all his worries and simply revel in the pleasures of the moment. He had spared no expense for her visit, ordering her favorite foods and wines to be served. 

As he waited, he couldn't help but think back to the early days of their courtship. She had been so different then - so full of life and passion. But now, after months of marriage, he could sense a distance between them. He wondered if she still loved him as she had once done, or if she had grown tired of him. 

Suddenly, he heard footsteps getting closer and the young wife walked in, her beauty taking his breath away. She wore a gown of deep red silk, her hair piled high on her head in an elaborate style. He rose to greet her, a smile spreading across his face, she was standing in the doorway.  

"My dear," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "You look more beautiful than ever." She smiled back, but the warmth in her eyes did not reach her lips. Commodus felt a twinge of disappointment but quickly pushed it aside, determined to enjoy the evening with his wife. He took her hand and led her to the bed, where they both sat down. 

Commodus poured her a glass of wine, and they both drunk it. Her eyes were trying to escape from his. For some reason she looked nervous, just like the first time they made love, but the young man didn't take this observation too seriously. Commodus leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away slightly, playing the game of desire. He could see the desire in her red cheeks, and he was pleased. He began to caress her face, and she leaned into his touch, all the while hiding the dagger she had concealed under her clothing. 

Commodus began to undress her, his hands wandering over her body, the fabric hugging her curves. He moved towards her, his hands reaching out to take her in his embrace. She played along, pretending to be swept away by his passion, but her heart was pounding with fear and anticipation. 

When they were both naked, he lay back on the bed, and let her climb on top of him, straddling him as if in surrender. With his right hand, Commodus gripped his young wife's breasts, kneading them fervently. With his other hand, he guided his penis towards her enter, waiting for her to descend on his erected member, full of desire for her. He waited for it and waited, but it never happened. 

As he closed his eyes, she carefully pulled the dagger out from under the silk sheets, where she had hidden it before and plunged it into his chest, pushing down with all her strength.  Commodus let out a gasp, his eyes widening in shock and pain.  

Realizing what she was doing, she let her tears falling to his cheeks. The young woman had concluded that this was the only way to solve all the problems. Kill the husband she once loved so much. 

He tried to struggle, but she held him down, continuing to stab him over and over, each stab dedicated to a person whose life Commodus had reduced to hell.  He eventually stopped fighting and resigned himself to accept his destiny. She was his beloved wife, the young daughter of a senator, of who he falls in love years ago, when they were both children. He promised to give her the love she never receives from her parents. But he always knew that would eventually lead to his downfall. She was naive and innocent, perfect for him to control, but he also knew that she eventually could be just, loyal and caring for those in need. His father would have probably loved her, more than he had loved his son. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before she realized that he wasn't good enough for her. Commodus secretly hoped that that day would never happen. But when he saw Maximus, in the middle of the arena, he knew that at that precise moment he lost his sister and his beloved wife.  Commodus also know that this all plan wasn't from his dear wife, but probably from a senator or his own sister Lucilla. He knows that they used his dear dove, because she was the only one that he would have never see it coming from. Now, thinking about it, it was quite predictable. 

As his vision blurs, blood running down his jaw, Commodus put one of his hands on her small face. He caressed his young wife's cheek, and in a last breath he smiled. "I-I forgive y-you for everything..."  

She rather to close her eyes than confront his gaze and as she continued to stab him, one of her stabs was straight into his heart, and suddenly he lay still. There was only the echo of her cries in the air of the room. The young woman let out a howl of pain, she felt like her heart was going to tear into a thousand pieces. In a fit of rage, she threw her dagger right in the middle of the room. Her weak body caught in the bloodstained silk sheets, made her fall gently to the floor.  

Her hands were shaking with the adrenaline and fear. She knew it was the only thing she could do to free Lucilla, Lucius, the senators, Maximus and all of Rome and the empire.  Sprawled on the ground, her face was hidden by her arms. The tears continued to flow as the echo of his last words looped through his memory.  

Finally having the courage to get up, she approaches the lifeless body of the man who once was the love of her life. She took the little scissors from a gold tray. She took a dark lock of the dead emperor's hair and cut it off. Leaning lightly, she inhaled the scent of his hair, before whispering "In another life, maybe, we could have been happy." 

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[sunny-writes-flowers]

“A vial of colored water.”

Summary: "Commodus heard about an apothecary who was rumored to have some potent aphrodisiacs. He, always eager to try new things, decided to pay the apothecary a visit."  Rating: T Statute: One Shot Relationship(s): Commodus x fem!Reader  Warning(s):  Established relationship; Implied description of smut; Implied threat; rude language; mention of hypothetical pregnancy. 

Commodus, rode through the streets of the city, surrounded by his praetorian guard. They were wearing clothes humble enough to not be recognized by anyone, also wearing a hood to cover their faces.  

They passed by the grandiose buildings and lavish fountains, but soon they reached the darker and more dangerous areas of Rome. Commodus dismounted his white horse, and continued by walking, always accompanied by his four trusted men. 

The streets were narrow and crowded, with merchants and peddlers selling their wares on every corner, lined with brothels and taverns. The smell of smoke and sweat hung heavy in the air. Commodus did not even hesitate to show his profound disgust. How could they live in such condition? 

As they walked through the dingy alleys, the stench of filth and decay filled their nostrils. People were huddled together in squalid shanties, and the ground was covered in garbage and mud. 

As Commodus watched the plebs, one of his guards patted him on the shoulder, showing him a shop falling into disrepair. The emperor smirked. 

The apothecary's shop was dimly lit, with jars and bottles of all shapes and sizes lining the shelves. As soon as Commodus entered, the apothecary, a wizened old man with a long white beard, looked at him with a hard look. "You little piece of shit, if you come to rob me, know that the emperor's guard are on the brothel next door, I just have to shout for them to come!” 

Commodus was astonished by the old man's words. One of the guards preceded the emperor and removed his hood. "Poor fool, salute your emperor, instead of acting cowardly!" 

And as Commodus lowered his hood, the old man was taken aback, immediately greeting him with a bow. "Your highness, it’s an honor. What can an old man like me do for you?" he asked. 

Commodus looked around the shop, sizing up the various herbs and powders on display. Another guard violently pushed the old man out of Commode's passage.  

The stench of the shop hit the guards like a wave, they instinctively covered their noses with their sleeves. Commodus, however, seemed unfazed. He strode forward, examining the shelves and jars with interest. 

One of the four guards, piqued with curiosity, picked up a few jars, opened them, and sniffed at the contents. He suddenly gagged and Commodus wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It stinks in here, close and put that were it was." he said, turning to the old man. 

Then he leaned in close to the apothecary, the old man trembling, and whispered, "I need something special...You know. Something that will... how can I say it... Humm...Put a little fire in my belly and my wife's, if you know what I mean..." 

The apothecary nodded, trying to hide his surprise. "Yes, your highness," he replied. "I have a special blend of herbs and spices that is sure to arouse even the coldest of hearts."   

The apothecary led them to a small shelf in the back of his shop, where he kept his most potent potions. He selected a small vial and handed it to Commodus. "This should do the trick," he said. "But be warned - it is not for the faint of heart."   

Commodus took the vial and examined it closely. It was a deep red color, with a strange and pungent odor. He could feel the apothecary's eyes on him, and he knew he was being judged. It made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't let the old man see his vulnerability. 

"How much?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"Five hundred denarius," the apothecary replied. 

Commodus scoffed. "That's an outrageous price for a vial of colored water." 

"It's not just water," the apothecary said. "It's a concoction of rare herbs and spices, mixed with the blood of a virgin and blessed by the gods themselves." 

Commodus rolled his eyes. He knew the old man was trying to scam him, but he didn't care. He had more money than he could ever spend. 

"Fine," he said, throwing a bag of coins on the counter. "I'll take it. And if it doesn't work, I'll come back and make you pay with my bare hands." 

The shopkeeper bowed low, fear etched on his face. He handed over the jar, and Commodus tucked it into his cloak. 

"Come on, let's go," he said to his guards. "This place reeks." 

They couldn't help laughing heartily. Commodus pulled his hood back over his dark hair. And as a guard opened the door for him, Commodus looked the apothecary in the eyes one last time. "Selling poison is illegal. But if my wife gives me an heir, I'll overlook the vials I've seen here. I’m I not merciful?" Commodus asked before leaving.

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