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yelenasdog · 4 years

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romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me.

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

♔♂♔

“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him.

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone.

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.”

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words.

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them.

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips.

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face.

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.

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phoxphyre · 4 years

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17 Questions

Oh no, the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Was tagged by: @amywaterwings @super-duper-twelve @captain-aralias

Nickname: Not...really? My 4 best friends all have names that begin with C or K, so they decided I needed one too and dubbed me “Kiki.” It’s more of a joke than something people actually call me, though. My husband calls me “Athena” sometimes because...Ancient Greek major.

Zodiac: Aries

Height: 5′4″ (but I choose to believe I have tall person energy. Please let me continue to live this lie)

Countries I’ve been to: Canada, France, Italy, England, Turkey, China, Japan, Singapore, South Korea, Mexico, Peru

Last thing I googled: “doki-doki meaning” (I blame the Discord). Before that, probably something related to AFTG and/or Yuri on Ice.

Song stuck in my head: A never-ending medley of various Yuri on Ice songs.

Wearing: I...never got dressed this morning. So, baggy fleece pants and an athletic T-shirt. My current look is very “2020 is continuing right into 2021.”

Favourite author: Oh no, how to choose. It’s changing all the time. Maybe I’ll do it based on favorite rereads? Rainbow Rowell, obvs. Patrick O’Brian, Pat Rothfuss, Mary Renault, Robin McKinley, Maggie Stiefvater, AS Byatt, Jacqueline Carey, Mackenzi Lee, Guy Gavriel Kay, Naomi Novik, Mary Robinette Kowal, Charlotte Bronte, and I think I’m contractually obligated to say Jane Austen.

Favourite instrument: Voice counts, right? I sang in choruses for years and years. After that guitar, probably? My dad and brother are guitarists and composers, and I once wanted to be a singer-songwriter and sing in coffee shops. I made it as far as learning maybe 3 songs before I had kids and suddenly had...other priorities. I used to play violin, but we do not speak of that.

Aesthetic: Right now? Athleisure. (I know, sorry). 2020-2021 has been “Variations on a Theme of Leggings.” In days (years?) when I actually bought clothes and got dressed and left the house? Probably “bohemian” or “former LARPer” or “Lucy Salisbury in the 90s.”

Home aesthetic: HAHAHAHA no. (To give you an idea of my “aesthetic:” I dogsat my friend’s puppy last weekend and my mom was horrified that I let him on the couch, and I said “There’s nothing more the dog can do to it that we haven’t already done.”)

Favourite song: Nooooo don’t make me choose. Right this second? Possibly “Yuri on Ice.” Of all time? Probably something by Joni Mitchell, Indigo Girls, Tori Amos, or back catalog REM (Closer to Fine? Precious Things? Driver 8?). Because apparently it’s always the 90s in my brain. Honorable mention to “Ode to the Sun” by Dredg and Mozart’s Requiem.

Favourite animal sounds: Frogs. I have a vernal pond in my back yard and I know that spring has arrived when the spring peepers start calling.

What’s one thing you’ll admit to tumblr and not in real life?: I write gay fanfiction? (But you all knew that). That I’m bi? I’m not...NOT out, but I’m a cis woman married to a man, so it doesn’t come up much. My husband and friends know, but I talk about it a lot more online.

I’m not sure who’s been tagged already, but tagging @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @ninemagicks @wetheformidables @palimpsessed @aristocratic-otter @otherworldsivelivedin @flammable-grimm-pitch @amphipodgirl @ganseylike @nightimedreamersworld @gampyre @vampire-named-gampire

I’ve been only semi-on Tumblr recently, but I love reading these!

#tag game #17 questions #the horrifying ordeal of being known

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five-miles-over · 4 years

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‘Aftermath’ Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky (Commodus x OC)

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Summary: While in the palace, Caesonia ponders about her own test of courage and fidelity to her father. Meanwhile, Commodus finds himself attracted to his Pink Fairy when he learns about her past.

Warning: angst, obsession, and also a bit of fluff at the end.

People should know when they’ve been conquered, her father used to say. Caesonia looked out of her tiny window, watching the orange and yellow rays fall from the concrete and presumably into the horizon. Of course, when he said those words, he usually referred to Germanic barbarians, not young women.

Caesonia’s fingers dawdled near the cold wall, tracing abstract patterns against the grey material. Didn’t philosophers used to call life one big prison that houses all men? They spoke of a metaphorical one, while she was in a real one.

That wasn’t to say that her prison was akin to a cell in the palace’s dungeon - it was a bit more spacious and she had a blanket to cover herself with. Would you be proud of me, father? Being a dutiful citizen and serving my sentence as I must?, Caesonia thought longingly. Or have I disappointed you being a meek coward this whole time?

All Caesonia had ever wanted was to make her father satisfied to call her his progeny, despite never being the son he so desperately craved for. Perhaps he would’ve agreed that she did the right thing by remaining in her prison day after day. She didn’t seem to be giving the emperor or his guards any sort of trouble, and for a month, all was well.

Yet being the daughter of a general, had she failed the test of courage by never daring to escape her cell? Surely one of bravery would have done so, swearing to defy the emperor’s orders and fight back. The window was small, but she could’ve squeezed through and jumped out of it. Whether she would survive the three-story fall was a secondary question, but at least she would be free.

Ever since that Spaniard gladiator had arrived in the city, it seemed fashionable to defy the emperor - anyone who followed his orders was considered a weakling or a fool. Being a young lady, Caesonia never needed to worry about whom to side with; ever since she’d come of age, her father never encouraged her to delve into politics.

However, things were different now with the recent…change in dynamics. The emperor was back in power, and the Senate now in disarray, but the people were still deciding whom to give their loyalty to. From the conversations she could overhear in her cell, not even the servants were sure of their true allegiance. Only time could truly tell who would win this ultimate battle of leadership.

Her thoughts were adjourned by an announcement from a guard. “The Emperor of Rome is on his way, prisoner!” His declaration was interrupted by a quick slap. “How dare you call her merely a prisoner?” The voice was none other than that of Commodus’s. “She is a lady and must be addressed as such.”

Caesonia straightened herself, adjusting her toga so that she may be presentable before him. She saw him coming towards her, bearing a piece of pink cloth in one of his hands. Narrowing her eyes closer, she recognized it as her pink cloth - it was from the dress she wore to witness the Spaniard fight His Majesty.

The guards parted for him. “Good evening, my lady,” Emperor Commodus lowered his head for her, a rare honor for anyone, let alone a prisoner. “Good evening, your Highness,” she curtsied before him, her lower lip quivering as her eyes met his.

“Do you by any chance know of this, Lady Caesonia?” He offered her the cloth.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Yes, it looks similar to a piece of a dress that I own. Except, my cloth was stained with dirt and blood; the one you are holding, Caesar, is clean.”

Commodus, relieved that he truly knew whom his Pink Fairy was, signalled for the guards to let her out into the halls. “I had the laundresses clean it, my lady. Would it displease you if I asked you to walk with me tonight?”

“Not at all, your Highness.”

He hummed in agreement, going outside of the palace and into one of the gardens in the southern wing. Surrounded by various species of roses, narcissi, and gladioli, it was quite the colorful ensemble. And in the center, there was a large fountain with water spouting from a statue of Augustus, the first Roman emperor in history.

It was quite dark, with the sky being surrounded by nothing but black, velvety clouds. Yet, the starlight and the faint glow from the palace was enough luminescence for them to see each other.

The emperor invited her to sit next to him on the marble bench. Noticing her silence, Commodus softly asked her. “Do I scare you, Lady Caesonia?”

“No. This is not the first time we have met, your Highness.”

“Where have we met before?”

“In Germania, Highness. I came along with my father on his battles.”

Commodus raised an eyebrow at the idea of a young girl being brought to a battefield, especially one of nobility. “But why? Surely a girl like you would’ve been entrusted to her mother at home. A battle camp is no place for a young lady.”

Caesonia closed her eyes for a moment. “My mother died during childbirth, Caesar. And I had no siblings.”

“My condolences to your mother,” the emperor nodded.

“Thank you, Caesar,” she forced a small smile.

“Did your father teach you to fight?”

“He did when I was young - until I was twelve, everyone called me Cassius Quintii,” her eyes twinkled under the indigo sky as she narrated. “I was raised as a boy, and I fought like any soldier’s son.”

“And then what happened?”

Caesonia continued, “My armor…my armor became too tight for my chest, and my father knew why. He stopped teaching me, and started leaving me in the company of various ladies present - concubines, noble ladies, and even…” Her voice faltered, hesitating to mention Lady Lucilla.

“My sister, no?” Commodus finished, “She used to leave you in my care and go off to speak with her lover.”

Looking further at Caesonia, the memory suddenly came back to him. When he came to Germania hoping to speak with his father about his succession and eventual coronation, he was given a girl to watch over. It was utterly humiliating, him - a prince - being brought to a battlefield to baby-sit. Until his father’s letter describing the four virtues, he thought there was no clearer of a way for his father to convey his opinion about Commodus.

Caesonia added, “All I’ve wanted was to please my father, but I think he’s still angry that I was never the son he wanted…and that I took away the chance of him having another child.”

“And yet you still plead for his life in court even though he made yours uncomfortable?”

“I love him nonetheless, and I think he deserves to live. Perhaps that was my mistake.” Caesonia looked down, placing her hands in her lap.

His expression softening, Commodus gently stroked her cheek, causing her to turn towards him. With those same fingers, he lifted her chin and brought his lips to hers. Caesonia held his forearm to steady herself as she attempted to reciprocate his kiss, having never experienced such intimacy before. She did not want to be punished for refusing him and she was afraid of angering the emperor with her boldness, but her touch only captivated him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, lowering her onto the marble delicately as if she were made of glass. Commodus marveled at her submissiveness, having never felt so much power in his arms as he did in that moment. Her eyelids lowered and her lips parted slightly when he climbed on top of her, the heavy weight of his armor crushing her chest. He captured her lips again, and felt her arms encircle his broad shoulders.

As their kiss deepened, her muted sighs only strengthened a new desire surging through his veins. It was far too different than merely lust, Commodus thought, it was almost a feeling of jealousy, or hunger perhaps. In that moment, he was ready to kill anyone who tried to claim her, or touch her, or snatch her away from him. She needed to be his and only his.

Gasping for air, the two of them broke apart too soon for either’s liking, still lingering in each other’s embrace. It had felt like an eternity passed before the emperor rose from the bench. Commodus suppressed a chuckle as he watched Caesonia’s knees buckle when she tried to stand up. Lovingly, he wrapped the cloth around her neck like a scarf and strode away from the bench. Walking five steps behind him, she followed him out of the garden and into the palace.

The emperor could not help but glance behind as they made their way through the halls. She looked ethereal among the light of the torches. Her smooth hair and her cheekbones called to his fingers, clamoring for his caress. It was taking every fiber of his being not to roughly push her against the palace walls and kiss her again until they were both breathless.

He stopped before another empty bedroom, seemingly much more comfortable, and spoke to the guard, instructing him to keep her here for the time being. “Good night, Lady Caesonia,” he bent down to kiss her hand.

“Good night, Caesar. Thank you for your benevolence,” she nodded in return.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Caesonia rose from her bed to find a plate of pink-bottled perfumes and creams, along with a little rouge, by her bedside. Perhaps a maid must’ve placed it while I slept, she thought. In the midst of the cosmetics, there was a folded piece of parchment. Carefully, she unfolded the note and read,

“If you ever asked me if I’d seen a rose blooming from another rose,

My reply would be yes, for my eyes have been blessed by one of those.

On the night your soft, finely curved lips met mine,

I witnessed your rosy cheeks bloom from that rose-like face of thine.”

#commodus #emperor commodus #gladiator 2000 #gladiator fic #commodus fic #gladiator au #also 400th post on tumblr!

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