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Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence
Justice League x reader
warnings:
a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry
prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”
you and alfred got along well
“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred
“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically
you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit
“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you
“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred
“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms
“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you
“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred
“really?!” -barry
“no” -you and alfred
you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members
“it’s acceptable” -bruce
“wow, thanks” -you
“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce
diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational
“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana
barry nerds out with you sometimes
he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer
and tries to be helpful
“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry
“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you
“harsh!” -barry
“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you
arthur wanted cooler clothes
“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur
“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you
“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur
clark didn’t really need/want much
but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits
“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you
“yeah, stand back” -clark
it held for a good 20 seconds
“better than i thought” -you
you were their eyes in the sky on missions
directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it
and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it
but occasionally you did ask him for tech support
“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you
“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic
“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you
“what’s the password?” -vic
*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you
diana let you spar with her sometimes
which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)
(but she could)
you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at
and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage
taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //
#justice league#justice league x reader#justice league imagine#bruce wayne x reader#diana prince x reader#clark kent x reader#barry allen x reader#arthur curry x reader#victor stone x reader#batman x reader#wonder woman x reader#superman x reader#aquaman x reader#flash x reader#cyborg x reader#dc comics#dc comics imagine#dc comics x reader
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DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC
You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Wally West, Dinah Lance, Victor Stone (Cyborg) & Shayera Hol (Hawkgirl)
Bruce Wayne aka. Batman
- Bruce Wayne is a force of nature—stoic, commanding, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness that only a few ever glimpse. You’re captivated by him, the way he effortlessly blends into a crowd yet still commands attention. That’s why you don’t see the edge of the rug in the dim lighting of Wayne Manor, tripping gracelessly. Before you can hit the ground, Bruce is there, his strong hands gripping your arms with surprising care. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice deep and steady, concern etched into his usually impassive features.
- His hold lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You should be more careful,” he says, his tone soft but firm. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe even something deeper—that makes your heart race. He steps back, adjusting his cufflinks as if to regain his composure, but the subtle way his eyes linger on you betrays his own faltering calm.
- Throughout the evening, Bruce stays close, his presence a quiet reassurance. He’s the epitome of subtlety—offering you a glass of water here, gently guiding you through the crowded ballroom there. His attentiveness is masked by his usual aloof demeanor, but you catch the fleeting softness in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his carefully constructed walls, Bruce has always struggled to hide the depth of his emotions.
- Later, when the guests have departed and the manor is quiet, Bruce surprises you by breaking the silence. “You… matter to me,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looks at you, his usual stoicism giving way to vulnerability. “I’ve lost too much in my life to ignore what’s in front of me now.” His words are raw, unpolished, but they carry the weight of his guarded heart. You reach out, your fingers brushing his, and he lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman
- Clark Kent is the epitome of kindness, his warmth as disarming as it is comforting. You’ve always admired him—his strength tempered by humility, his smile as bright as the sun he draws his power from. Today, as you watch him navigate the newsroom with his usual charm, you’re so distracted that you trip over a stray power cord. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with effortless ease. “Whoa, I’ve got you,” he says, his tone gentle and reassuring, his strong arms steadying you.
- Clark’s concern is immediate, his brow furrowing as he looks you over. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft but earnest. His hands linger on your arms, his touch as steady as his gaze. When you assure him you’re fine, he chuckles softly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I guess I can be a little distracting,” he teases, though the sincerity in his eyes makes it clear he’s still worried.
- Throughout the day, Clark’s attentiveness is unshakable. Whether it’s fetching you a fresh cup of coffee or subtly guiding you around potential obstacles, his protectiveness shines through in the smallest gestures. His blue eyes find yours often, his expression softening every time. When you catch him looking at you, his cheeks flush slightly, and he quickly adjusts his glasses—a nervous habit that only endears him to you further.
- Later, when the hustle of the day has settled, Clark finds you in a quiet corner of the office. “You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I’ve faced a lot of things in my life—things I never thought I’d survive. But you… you make everything feel a little brighter.” He looks down, adjusting his glasses again, before meeting your gaze. “I just hope I can be as much for you as you are for me.” His words are simple but heartfelt, and when you smile, his grin returns, radiating the warmth of a man who feels deeply and loves unconditionally.
Barry Allen aka. Flash
- Barry Allen is a whirlwind of energy and charm, his quick wit matched only by the speed at which he moves. You’re so captivated by his boyish smile and the way his hands move animatedly as he talks that you don’t see the uneven sidewalk ahead. Before you can stumble, Barry is there, catching you with a speed that leaves you breathless. “Whoa, careful!” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “You okay? That was almost a total wipeout.”
- His concern is genuine, though his teasing grin never falters. “You know, I’ve seen people fall for me before, but this is a first,” he jokes, his tone light but his hands lingering on your arms just a moment longer than necessary. When you laugh, his grin widens, and his eyes sparkle with something deeper than amusement. “Seriously, though,” he adds, his voice softening, “are you sure you’re okay?”
- Barry’s protectiveness is subtle but constant throughout the day. He’s always just a step ahead, anticipating your needs with an almost uncanny accuracy. Whether it’s holding a door open before you even reach it or catching a falling book mid-air, his actions speak louder than words. Every time his eyes meet yours, there’s a warmth there that makes your heart race, and when he blushes under your gaze, you realize he’s just as affected as you are.
- Later, when the day slows down, Barry surprises you with a rare moment of vulnerability. “You know,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not always the smoothest guy around, but with you… I feel like I don’t have to try so hard.” His voice is softer now, his usual bravado giving way to honesty. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… you make me want to slow down, and that’s saying something.” His cheeks flush as he looks at you, and when you smile, he lets out a breathless laugh, his grin returning with a newfound confidence.
Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman
- Diana of Themyscira carries herself with a grace and strength that feels otherworldly. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she stands in the sunlight, her armor gleaming and her smile as radiant as the dawn, you can’t look away. That’s why you trip, your foot catching on a stray root. Before you can fall, Diana is there, her arms steadying you with effortless ease. “Are you hurt?” she asks, her voice filled with concern, her dark eyes scanning you with a warrior’s precision.
- Diana’s touch is gentle despite her strength, her fingers lingering on your arm as she helps you steady yourself. “You must be more careful,” she says, her tone soft but firm. When you assure her you’re fine, she smiles, the warmth in her expression making your heart flutter. “It is easy to be distracted by beauty,” she adds, her words carrying a hint of playfulness, though her gaze remains steady on yours.
- Throughout the day, Diana stays close, her protective instincts clearly at odds with her desire to let you stand on your own. She’s ever watchful, her presence a comforting reminder of her strength. When your eyes meet, there’s a softness in her gaze that contrasts with her usual warrior’s intensity. It’s as if she’s letting you see a side of her few ever do—a side that cares deeply and feels even more.
- Later, as the sun sets and the world quiets, Diana speaks with a rare vulnerability. “You remind me of why I fight,” she says, her voice low but steady. “Not for glory or duty, but for love—for those who make the world worth saving.” She reaches out, her hand brushing yours, her touch both tender and strong. “You are more than I expected,” she adds, her smile soft but unwavering. “And I find myself drawn to you in ways I cannot ignore.” Her words are as sincere as the Amazon herself, and as you take her hand, you feel the unspoken promise of her unwavering heart.
Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman
- Arthur Curry has always carried the weight of two worlds on his shoulders, but you’ve never seen it diminish his strength or his humor. Today, as you watch him command the attention of those around him with his booming laugh and rugged charm, you lose track of your footing and stumble on a slick patch of wet tile. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with a strength that feels like the ocean itself. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, his voice deep and warm, his golden eyes gleaming with concern.
- His hands linger on your waist as he steadies you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You okay?” he asks, his tone softer now. When you nod, his lips curl into a crooked grin. “You’ve got to watch your step around water, you know,” he teases, though there’s a flicker of something more in his gaze—something protective, maybe even possessive. “Next time, just grab onto me. I don’t mind being your anchor.”
- Throughout the day, Arthur is never far from your side. Whether it’s his broad hand brushing yours as you walk or the way he places himself between you and the crowd, his actions speak louder than words. When he laughs at your jokes or catches your eye from across the room, there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his larger-than-life persona. And when you catch him looking at you, his grin fades into something deeper, more thoughtful, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your face.
- Later, under the quiet of the moonlit ocean, Arthur opens up in a way he rarely does. “You’re different,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “Most people see the king, the warrior… but you see me. Just me.” His fingers brush yours, his touch warm despite the cool night air. “And I think… I want to be that for you. Just Arthur.” His vulnerability takes your breath away, and as you take his hand, his grin returns, softer but no less genuine.
Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern
- Hal Jordan is impossible to ignore—the sheer confidence he exudes is magnetic, and his grin could rival the brightest star. You’re so caught up in watching him regale the group with one of his wild stories that you don’t see the loose stone on the ground. You trip, your balance faltering, but before you can fall, Hal is there, catching you with the ease of a man who’s saved the universe a dozen times. “Gotcha,” he says, his grin widening as he steadies you. “You okay, beautiful?”
- Hal’s teasing tone is paired with genuine concern as he looks you over, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” he says, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Though I can’t blame you if you were distracted by someone as handsome as me.” His cocky grin makes you roll your eyes, but the way he’s still holding onto you betrays the softer side he tries to keep hidden.
- The rest of the day, Hal is uncharacteristically attentive. He’s always been protective, but now it’s obvious—whether he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders in a crowded room or using his Green Lantern ring to light your path. His usual banter is interspersed with moments of quiet affection: a lingering glance, a soft smile when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his bravado, Hal’s heart is open and unguarded when it comes to you.
- Later, under the stars, Hal drops the act. “I know I come off as this fearless guy,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But the truth is, I’m terrified of losing the people I care about.” He looks at you, his usual confidence replaced by sincerity. “You… you mean more to me than I ever expected. And I’m not going to mess this up.” His words are raw, vulnerable, and when you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he pulls you closer.
Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow
- Oliver Queen is larger than life, his charisma and sharp wit drawing everyone in like moths to a flame. You’ve always found it hard to look away from him, but today, as he leans against the bar, his trademark smirk in place, you’re completely distracted. That’s why you don’t notice the stray chair leg in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Oliver is there, catching you with surprising ease. “Whoa there,” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “Falling for me already?”
- His teasing tone is matched by the warmth in his eyes as he looks you over, his hands steady on your waist. “You okay?” he asks, his voice softening as he meets your gaze. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’d hate to think I caused you any trouble.” He steps back reluctantly, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before he releases you.
- For the rest of the day, Oliver is his usual charming self, but there’s an added layer of protectiveness to his actions. He’s quick to offer his arm when the ground is uneven and even quicker to shoot a playful wink your way when he catches you watching him. His sharp humor is balanced by the genuine care he shows in the little things, like the way he quietly makes sure you’re comfortable in every situation.
- Later, as the two of you find yourselves alone, Oliver surprises you with his honesty. “You know,” he begins, his voice quieter now, “I’ve spent a lot of time pretending to be someone I’m not. But with you… I don’t feel like I have to.” He looks at you, his usual bravado giving way to something more vulnerable. “You see me—the real me—and somehow, you haven’t run away yet.” His grin returns, softer this time, and when you step closer, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he takes your hand.
John Constantine aka. Hellblazer
- John Constantine is chaos incarnate, a man who carries the weight of the supernatural world on his shoulders while masking his pain behind biting wit and a cigarette’s haze. You’re watching him in the dim light of a dingy bar, his trench coat draped over his chair, the glow of his cigarette illuminating his sharp features. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you trip over an uneven floorboard. Before you can hit the ground, John’s there, catching you with surprising swiftness. “Careful, love,” he says, his rough voice laced with amusement. “Hate to see a beauty like you bruised.”
- His hands linger as he steadies you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “You alright?” he asks, his tone more earnest now. When you nod, he gives you a lopsided grin. “Good. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you were distracted. Happens when I’m around.” His teasing tone is classic Constantine, but the way his eyes linger on you betrays something deeper—something he’s trying hard to keep hidden.
- For the rest of the evening, John’s attention is subtle but constant. Whether it’s shielding you from the bar’s more unsavory patrons or lighting your way with a flicker of magic, his protectiveness shines through his sarcastic façade. He teases you mercilessly, but there’s a warmth in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking—a vulnerability that feels at odds with the cocky mage you know.
- Later, as the night winds down, John surprises you by dropping his guard. “You’re dangerous, you know,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “Getting under my skin like this… it’s not bloody fair.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you with uncharacteristic honesty. “I’ve got demons, love—literally and figuratively. But you… you make me think maybe there’s still a part of me worth saving.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who’s seen too much yet dares to hope.
Roy Harper aka. Arsenal
- Roy Harper is the embodiment of resilience, his charm and humor hiding the scars of his past. You’ve always admired his strength, but today, as he adjusts the sights on his bow, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight, you can’t help but stare. So much so that you miss the loose pebble beneath your foot and stumble. Before you can hit the ground, Roy’s quick reflexes have you in his arms. “Whoa, easy there,” he says with a teasing grin. “Didn’t know I was that distracting.”
- He steadies you, his hands warm and calloused from years of archery. “You good?” he asks, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’m not sure my heart can handle the thought of you getting hurt.” His words are light, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze that tells you he means every word.
- Throughout the day, Roy’s attention is as playful as it is protective. He sticks close, making jokes to put you at ease, but his actions speak louder than his words. He’s always a step ahead, ensuring you’re safe and comfortable. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin mischievous, but there’s a softness in his expression that tugs at your heart.
- Later, as the two of you sit around a campfire, Roy’s lighthearted demeanor shifts. “You make me want to be better,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “Not just for me, but for you.” He looks at you, his usual cockiness giving way to raw honesty. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you… you make me feel like maybe I’m not just my screw-ups.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as he takes your hand, his grip is steady, grounding you in his presence.
Koriand’r aka. Starfire
- Koriand’r radiates warmth, her golden skin and vibrant hair glowing like a living sunrise. Today, as she tends to a garden, her movements graceful and deliberate, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven stone beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Koriand’r is there, catching you in her strong, gentle arms. “Oh, are you alright?” she asks, her voice melodic with concern.
- She holds you a moment longer than necessary, her emerald eyes scanning your face. “You must be careful,” she says, her tone earnest. “I would be most distressed if you were harmed.” When you stammer out a reply, her lips curve into a radiant smile. “It is alright,” she says warmly. “I find you quite lovely, even when you stumble.”
- For the rest of the day, Koriand’r’s kindness and attentiveness shine through. She hovers close, her concern evident in the small ways she cares for you—offering a hand when the path is uneven or shielding you from the sun with her body. Her usual exuberance softens in your presence, her laughter quieter, her smiles more intimate. When she catches you looking at her, she tilts her head, her curiosity and affection clear in her gaze.
- Later, as the two of you watch the stars, Koriand’r speaks with heartfelt sincerity. “You are like the stars to me,” she says, her voice soft. “Beautiful, constant, and full of wonder.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “You make me feel at home, no matter where I am. And for that, I am most grateful.” Her words are simple yet profound, her honesty like a balm to your soul.
Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl
- Kara Zor-El is sunlight personified, her optimism and strength radiating wherever she goes. Today, as she helps a group of children with their science project, her laughter ringing like music, you can’t take your eyes off her. So much so that you don’t see the toy car in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Kara is there in a flash, catching you with ease. “Whoa, you okay?” she asks, her voice warm with concern.
- She steadies you, her hands gentle yet strong as she looks you over. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, her blue eyes sparkling. “But hey, if you wanted me to catch you, you just had to ask.” Her playful grin is infectious, but the way her gaze lingers on you feels more serious, like she’s trying to read your heart.
- For the rest of the day, Kara’s attentiveness is as natural as her kindness. She stays close, her presence a constant source of warmth and reassurance. Whether it’s brushing a stray strand of hair from your face or quietly ensuring you’re comfortable, her actions speak of genuine care. When your eyes meet, her smile softens, her usual exuberance giving way to a quiet affection that takes your breath away.
- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset, Kara’s usual cheerfulness gives way to a deeper sincerity. “You remind me of home,” she says softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Not Krypton, but the feeling of belonging… of being seen.” She turns to you, her eyes shining with emotion. “You make me feel like I can be more than just Supergirl. Like I can just be Kara. And that’s all I want to be… for you.” Her words are heartfelt, and as you take her hand, her smile becomes radiant, like the sun breaking through the clouds.
Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke
- Slade Wilson is intensity personified, his every move calculated and deliberate. Today, as he sharpens his sword with precision, his one good eye glinting in the dim light, you can’t help but watch. So much so that you don’t see the step behind you until you stumble. Before you can fall, Slade’s hand shoots out, catching you with a firm grip. “Careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re not as indestructible as I am.”
- He steadies you, his hand lingering on your arm as he looks you over. “What were you thinking, staring off into space like that?” he asks, his tone stern but not unkind. When you mutter an excuse, he smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were distracted by me.” His teasing is subtle, but the way his gaze lingers on you is anything but.
- For the rest of the day, Slade’s protectiveness is quiet but unmistakable. He stays close, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. His usual cold demeanor softens ever so slightly when he speaks to you, his words less biting, his tone less harsh. When your eyes meet, there’s a flicker of something softer—something he tries to hide but can’t quite suppress.
- Later, as the two of you sit in the quiet of the night, Slade surprises you with his honesty. “You’re a distraction,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “But for some reason, I don’t mind.” He looks at you, his gaze intense. “You make me remember what it’s like to care about something—someone. And that’s dangerous for a man like me.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who rarely lets his guard down.
Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate
- Kent Nelson is an enigma, a man who carries the wisdom of ages and the burden of Fate’s mantle. His presence is serene, almost otherworldly, and you can’t help but be drawn to him. Today, as he consults an ancient tome, his golden helm gleaming in the soft light, you’re so captivated that you trip over a stray book on the floor. Before you can hit the ground, a soft golden glow surrounds you, suspending you mid-air. “Careful,” Kent says, his voice calm and measured as he gently sets you upright.
- He steps closer, his eyes searching yours with quiet concern. “Are you alright?” he asks, his tone as soothing as his magic. When you nod, he offers a small, almost shy smile. “Good. The world has enough chaos without adding unnecessary injuries.” There’s a warmth in his gaze that contrasts with his usual stoicism, a glimpse of the man behind the sorcerer’s mask.
- Throughout the day, Kent’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. He uses his magic to clear your path, his golden aura flickering softly whenever you’re near. His presence is calming, like the eye of a storm, and his rare smiles feel like small treasures meant just for you. When he looks at you, it’s as if he sees not just who you are, but who you could be—a potential that even you may not fully understand.
- Later, in the quiet of the Tower of Fate, Kent speaks with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve spent so much of my life serving the balance of the universe,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “But you… you remind me of what it means to simply be human.” He steps closer, his gaze steady and sincere. “You ground me in a way I didn’t think possible. And for that, I am grateful.” His words carry the weight of millennia, and as you reach out, his hand meets yours with a tenderness that feels timeless.
Rachel Roth aka. Raven
- Rachel Roth is a mystery, her dark aura both alluring and intimidating. Today, as she meditates in the corner of the room, her violet eyes closed in quiet concentration, you can’t help but be drawn to her. So much so that you trip over the edge of a rug, your balance faltering. Before you can hit the ground, a soft black energy wraps around you, setting you upright. “Careful,” Rachel says, her voice quiet but steady. “You should watch where you’re going.”
- She looks at you, her gaze calm but curious. “Were you distracted?” she asks, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. When you nod, her lips quirk into a faint smile. “Well, try not to make a habit of it,” she says, her voice softening. “I might not always be here to catch you.” Her words are teasing, but the warmth in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat.
- For the rest of the day, Rachel’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. She stays close, her dark energy occasionally brushing against you in moments of quiet reassurance. Her usual aloofness softens in your presence, her sarcasm tempered by moments of unexpected kindness. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her faint smile making you wonder if she knows exactly what you’re thinking.
- Later, as the two of you sit in the glow of candlelight, Rachel surprises you with her vulnerability. “You’re different,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… calm. Like I don’t have to fight so hard to keep the darkness at bay.” She looks at you, her gaze steady but shy. “You make me feel like maybe I can be more than what I was born into.” Her words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, her faint smile grows, her walls lowering just a little more.
Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna
- Zatanna’s presence is mesmerizing, her every movement imbued with an effortless elegance that feels like magic itself. Today, as she performs a small spell to entertain the group, her voice lilting as she speaks backward, you find yourself utterly entranced. So much so that you don’t see the loose rug beneath your feet. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Zatanna whispers a quick incantation, and you find yourself suspended in mid-air, gently uprighted by invisible hands. “Careful, darling,” she says, her tone playful. “Magic works better when you’re standing.”
- She steps closer, her sapphire eyes sparkling with concern and mischief. “Were you distracted, perhaps?” she teases, her lips curving into a knowing smile. When you stammer out an excuse, she chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it as a compliment.” There’s a flicker of something more in her gaze, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.
- For the rest of the day, Zatanna’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. Whether it’s conjuring a chair for you before you realize you need one or creating a small shield of magic to block an errant gust of wind, she seems to anticipate your needs before you do. Her usual theatrics are softened when she’s with you, her laughter quieter, her gestures more intimate. Every time your eyes meet, it feels like she’s casting a spell meant just for you.
- Later, under the moonlit sky, Zatanna’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re the one thing I can’t pull out of a hat,” she says softly, her voice laced with vulnerability. “You make me feel… real. Not just a magician, not just a performer. Just Zatanna.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “And that, my dear, is the most magical thing of all.”
Wally West aka. Flash
- Wally West is pure energy, his enthusiasm and humor as infectious as his speed. Today, as he zips around the room, a blur of red and gold, you can’t help but laugh. You’re so distracted that you don’t see the chair leg in your path until it’s too late. Before you can fall, Wally appears beside you in an instant, catching you with a grin. “Whoa there, beautiful,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “Need me to slow down for you?”
- He steadies you, his hands firm but gentle. “You okay?” he asks, his green eyes sparkling with concern and amusement. When you nod, he flashes a playful smirk. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d never forgive myself.” His words are light, but the way he looks at you is anything but.
- For the rest of the day, Wally��s attention is as quick as his reflexes. He’s always there before you need him, whether it’s catching a falling object or pulling out a chair for you before you sit. His usual cockiness softens in your presence, his jokes more thoughtful, his smiles more genuine. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin wide and unapologetic.
- Later, as the two of you walk along a quiet path, Wally’s humor gives way to sincerity. “You’re my favorite kind of distraction,” he admits, his voice soft. “You make me want to slow down, to savor every moment.” He looks at you, his gaze open and earnest. “You’re the one thing in my life that feels like it’s moving at the right speed.” His words are heartfelt, and as you take his hand, he smiles, his usual energy tempered by a quiet contentment.
Dinah Lance aka. Black Canary
- Dinah Lance is a whirlwind of strength and elegance, her confidence as striking as her Canary Cry. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she moves effortlessly through the crowd, her laughter ringing like music, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the edge of the stage until you trip. Before you can fall, Dinah is there, catching you with a grace that takes your breath away. “Easy there,” she says, her voice warm with concern. “Are you okay?”
- Her hands linger on your arms as she steadies you, her blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, though her tone is soft. “But hey, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Her playful smile is disarming, but the way her gaze lingers on you hints at something deeper.
- For the rest of the evening, Dinah’s protectiveness is evident in the smallest gestures. She keeps an arm around your shoulder in crowded spaces and subtly positions herself between you and any potential hazards. Her usual fiery confidence is tempered by a quiet warmth whenever she looks at you. It’s in the way her laughter softens when you’re near and the way her touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary.
- Later, under the glow of city lights, Dinah’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re something special, you know that?” she says, her voice soft but firm. “In a world full of noise, you’re the one thing that makes sense.” She steps closer, her hand brushing yours. “I’ve been through a lot, but you… you make me feel like it’s all worth it.” Her words are raw and heartfelt, and as you smile, she pulls you into a gentle embrace, her touch as fierce and tender as the woman herself.
Victor Stone aka. Cyborg
- Victor Stone is a balance of humanity and technology, his heart as strong as the metal that encases him. Today, as he works on a new project, his focus sharp and unwavering, you can’t help but admire his determination. So much so that you don’t notice the stray cable on the floor until it’s too late. You trip, but before you can hit the ground, a mechanical arm catches you effortlessly. “Gotcha,” Victor says, his voice warm despite the metallic undertone. “You okay?”
- He steadies you, his human hand brushing against yours as he checks for injuries. “You’ve gotta watch your step,” he says, his tone half-teasing. “But hey, if you needed an excuse to get close, you didn’t have to trip.” His grin is disarming, but the way his eyes linger on you speaks of genuine concern—and something more.
- For the rest of the day, Victor is quietly attentive. He adjusts the environment to make things easier for you, whether it’s dimming a too-bright light or creating a comfortable space for you to sit. His usual confidence is softened when he’s with you, his gestures thoughtful and deliberate. When he catches you looking at him, his smile becomes a little shy, a rare vulnerability that makes your heart flutter.
- Later, as the two of you sit in the soft glow of his lab, Victor opens up in a way he rarely does. “Sometimes, it’s hard to feel human,” he admits, his voice low and introspective. “But you… you make me feel like I’m more than circuits and metal. Like I’m enough.” He looks at you, his gaze steady and earnest. “You see me for who I am, and that… that means everything.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he takes your hand.
Shayera Hol aka. Hawkgirl
- Shayera Hol is a force of nature, her strength and fiery spirit unmatched. Today, as she spars with another hero, her mace gleaming in the sunlight, you’re captivated by her sheer presence. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Shayera is there, catching you with a warrior’s precision. “Careful,” she says, her voice firm but laced with concern. “The ground isn’t as forgiving as I am.”
- She steadies you with surprising gentleness, her intense gaze softening as she looks you over. “You okay?” she asks, her tone quieter now. When you nod, she smirks. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d have to hunt down whatever tripped you.” Her teasing tone is matched by the warmth in her eyes, a flicker of affection that catches you off guard.
- Throughout the day, Shayera’s protectiveness is both fierce and subtle. She walks close enough to shield you from potential hazards, her wing occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Her usual intensity softens in your presence, her sharp wit tempered by moments of quiet affection. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her smirk daring you to look away—but you never do.
- Later, as the two of you sit beneath the stars, Shayera’s tough exterior cracks just a little. “You make me feel… different,” she admits, her voice low and thoughtful. “Like I don’t always have to fight. Like I can just be.” She looks at you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’re the one thing in this world I’d fight for, not because I have to, but because I want to.” Her words are raw, her honesty breathtaking, and when you smile, she relaxes, her smirk returning as she leans closer.
#bruce wayne x reader#batman x reader#clark kent x reader#superman x reader#barry allen x reader#flash x reader#diana prince x reader#wonder woman x reader#hal jordan x reader#green lantern x reader#oliver queen x reader#green arrow x reader#john constantine x reader#roy harper x reader#starfire x reader#supergirl x reader#slade wilson x reader#kent nelson x reader#rachel roth x reader#raven x reader#zatanna x reader#wally west x reader#dinah lance x reader#victor stone x reader#hawkgirl x reader#dc x reader#dc comics x reader#dc comics imagines#dc comics headcanons#dc comics
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MASTER LIST┃DCU
⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙
┃Last Updated: 06/03/24
┃Total Works: 1
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Central City
Barry Allen
┃At The Tone
Wally West
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Gotham City
Bruce Wayne
Dick Grayson
Jason Todd
Tim Drake
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Metropolis
Clark Kent
Conner Kent
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Oa
Hal Jordan
Guy Gardner
John Stewart
Kyle Rayner
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Star City
Oliver Queen
Roy Harper
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
Miscellaneous
Garfield Logan
J'onn J'onzz
Kaldur'ahm
Victor Stone
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%
⤷Refer to MASTERLIST for introduction and rules.
#dcu#dc comics#dcu x reader#dcu x mcu#bruce wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#barry allen x reader#wally west x reader#clark kent x reader#conner kent x reader#hal jordan x reader#guy gardner x reader#john stewart x reader#kyle rayner x reader#oliver queen x reader#roy harper x reader#garfield Logan x reader#j'onn j'onzz x reader#kaldur'ahm x reader#victor stone x reader#masterlist
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❤️🧡💚💙💜❤️🧡💚💙💜
❤️🧡💚💙💜❤️🧡💚💙💜
18 years ago today Teen Titans: Trouble in Tokyo premiered on Cartoon Network!!! THIS CHASE SCENE WAS THE BEST!!! I really loved the poster they made for the movie!!!
❤️🧡💚💙💜❤️🧡💚💙💜
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❤️🧡💚💙💜❤️🧡💚💙💜
#cartoonetwork#Glen Murakami#teen titans#teen titans trouble in tokyo#robin#dick grayson#starfire#koriand'r#beast boy#garfield logan#cyborg#victor stone#raven#rachel roth#❤️🧡💚💙💜#Scott Menville#Greg Cipes#Tara Strong#Khary Payton#Hynden Walch#dick grayson x reader#garfield logan x reader#koriand’r x reader#Starfire x reader#victor stone x reader#Rachel Roth x reader#video
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FIRST DANCE SONGS
DC various x Reader
Just some of my favs and what I think their first dances at their wedding would be like. What song they would choose, if they’d cry or not, etc.
Reader is gender neutral.
Contains: wedding dances, romantic relationship between character and reader, a shit ton of fluffy mushy thoughts, DC men are allowed to cry because yes.
Clark Kent — Easy choice; Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley. I can imagine this song being Jonathan and Martha Kent’s song when they got married. He has a 60% chance of crying; 70% if he catches a glimpse of Ma and Pa holding hands, softly singing the lyrics to each other. There’s also a game that wedding DJs will sometimes do to see which guests have been married the longest (if you aren’t familiar, they’ll call up all of the married guests to dance, and they’ll periodically say, “if you’ve been married for X amount of years, sit down.”), so I can imagine At Last by Etta James beginning to play after your first dance, and you and Clark would be smiling as you watch the last couple standing; Jonathan and Martha Kent.
Bruce Wayne — Just Breathe by Pearl Jam, and he’s 100% crying. That’s what happens when you make eye contact with a misty-eyed Alfred. He wouldn’t do any fancy spinning or dipping with you because he’s too busy holding you close (both to hide the fact that he’s crying and because he never wants to let go). Other songs that may start playing afterwards range from Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings and Super Bass by Nicki Minaj (a surprise for the both of you). Also, a picture of your first dance may or may not end up on the cover of some tabloid magazine, despite any of your efforts to keep your wedding from the public’s eye.
Hal Jordan — No one was surprised to hear Stand By Me by Ben E. King start playing for your first dance. However, what they were surprised by was how watery Hal’s eyes were. He has a 50% chance of crying during your first dance, though he’d cover it up by laughing as he let you goofily twirl him around. The last minute or so would just be you two with your arms around each other, foreheads touching, eyes filled with love and adoration for each other… and then the beginning of Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey would cause you two to collapse into each other with fond laughter. Expect to see Hal absolutely shred the air guitar.
Dick Grayson — You’d probably have to get through a few ABBA songs before your first dance (because Dick is The Dancing Queen™), but it’s worth it when All of Me by John Legend starts up. I’d love to think that the two of you have slow-danced to this song under the stars as a date, so of course you two would agree on this song. Has a 75% chance of crying (despite crying earlier during the actual ceremony) because you’re just so stunning to him while you sway in each other’s arms. He’d probably want a more upbeat song to play afterwards, like La Da Dee by Cody Simpson or Sugar by Maroon 5, and he’ll absolutely dramatically sing the lyrics to you.
Jason Todd — A lot about your wedding may differ depending on if Jason is comfortable with an actual ceremony or not, but one thing that stays consistent is Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur as your first dance song. He’d probably have a 30% chance of crying in front of other people, but if your wedding something more private, that number easily spikes up to 80%. Be prepared to be held tight against him. Heck, he might not let you go even after the song ends. If you have a traditional wedding, he’d have an arm around you as the two of you sit down and watch everyone else dance to Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen.
Tim Drake — I can see First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes being your song. Tim’s not exactly a dancer, so it may be the two of you just swaying back and forth, but he’d gladly let a spin or two happen if it makes your face light up. The odds of him crying are pretty low at 25%, meaning the most you’ll probably see is the slightest shimmer in his eyes (but Cassie, Bart, Kon, and Dick are 100% in shambles as you two dance). He’ll stare at you with complete adoration, contempt with just being with you, along with a giant smile gracing his lips for the duration of your dance. Something punk-rock/emo like Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down by Fallout Boy has to be the follow-up song. I don’t make the rules.
Wally West — Because I imagine your first date being a Disney movie marathon, Can You Feel the Love Tonight by Elton John fits perfectly. He’d probably hum the melody while bringing your foreheads together, eyes sparkling if you hum along with him. Be prepared to be twirled or dipped unexpectedly (he loves catching you by surprise). I’d say there’s a 50% chance of him crying, since he might be able to hold it together until something preppier plays like Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON (and yes, much like Dick, he’ll dramatically sing the lyrics to you). You two will do so many goofy dance moves together, I can guarantee it.
Victor Stone — “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is an underrated movie date idea, which is why I declare your first dance song to be Moon River by Audrey Hepburn. Slow dancing with Vic is so soft; he’ll gently sway with you and hold you so delicately. Not a big crier, so you’re at a 40% chance of that, but it’ll easily jump up to 60% if you rest your head against his shoulder or chest. Afterwards, I can totally see something like Without You by David Guetta playing. The energy on the dance floor would go from 0 to 100 when the chorus hits, everyone jumping on the dance floor like it’s a concert, while you and Vic spin each other around with warm laughter.
Kara Danvers — A few Taylor Swift and Kelly Clarkson songs later, you’d find yourselves dancing to Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers. It’s a classic, and I can totally see you two having your first kiss at an ice cream parlor with this playing in the background. I’d say there’s a 45% chance of you seeing happy tears in Kara’s eyes. There’d be a big smile on her face as she let you spin her, your arms wrapping around each other. And of course Teenage Dream by Katy Perry plays afterwards. Clark will come up to you two with a teary congratulations, and you’ll start doing a goofy three-way dance, and that somehow evolves into a giant conga line with Clark in the lead.
Jaime Reyes — I have this feeling that Jaime gets really insecure about himself, so Corazón Sin Cara by Prince Royce is the natural choice. It’s a reminder that you’ll love him as he is, just as he’ll love you as you are. While there’s a 60% of him full-on crying, there’s a 100% chance of him getting teary-eyed at the lyric, “solo sé que yo te quiero así” (I only know that I love you like this). He’s big on hand holding — he loves to rub his thumb over the back of your hand — so he’ll have at least one of your hands in his through the entire dance. After Royce fades out, I can see either Kiss You by One Direction playing, or Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley (you both forgot about the conversation you had about how funny Rick Rolling your guests would be… effectively Rick Rolling yourselves).
Zatanna Zatara — Like I’m Gonna Loose You by Meghan Trainor has that swing sound that Zee loves to dance to. She’d get a little playful with dips and spins, but that’s only to cover up the fact that she’s at a 75% of crying; you can tell by her breathy chuckles as she rests her head against your shoulder. I think it would be really cute if she did a spell to make the air sparkle like fireflies around you two near the beginning of the song. And she’ll definitely whisper an I love you backwards to you, something I’m sure you’d be familiar with in your relationship. Also, Magic by B.o.B was suggested by you as a joke, but Zatanna was like, “that’s actually so good,” so that’s the song playing afterwards. Whoops.
#Clark Kent x reader#Bruce Wayne x reader#Hal Jordan x reader#Dick Grayson x reader#Jason Todd x reader#Tim Drake x reader#Wally West x reader#Victor Stone x reader#Kara Danvers x reader#Jaime Reyes x reader#Zatanna Zatara x reader
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Hi! I love your writing and saw your matchup requests opened up, so I'd like to request romantic pairings for DC, Marvel, and X-Men, please, and thank you! no preference for gender :D
I'm 19, bi, and I use any pronouns. I have curly shoulder-length black hair with bright pink highlights, light-medium brown skin tone, and dark brown eyes. I’m 5’7” and I’d say I have more of a wiry body type. I like being able to try different looks and have a lot of interest in fashion. I wear glasses and I also really like wearing elaborate makeup, long acrylic nails, unique jewelry, or anything else of the like.
My hobbies include video games, D&D, and collecting things like dice, crystals, and other trinkets. I also do a lot of craft-related things and like making gifts for my friends. I most draw, but I always love to try out various types of other mediums at least once. I mostly listen to R&B, but I'm always open to song recommendations from any genre.
I’d say that I’m a sort of quiet person, as I find it hard to put my thoughts into words and I have a tendency to come off as pretty monotone when I do speak, but I work to be more open with those I'm close with. Even though I’d say I’m more shy, I do really like people and I try to help others as much as I can.
Hope this isn't too much and that you’re doing well! Thank you for doing these (*´▽`*)❀ - 📼
Hi!
Don't worry, you gave a great amount of information!
I hope you are doing well as well!
<333333333333
I really hope you like your matchups!
I had a lot of fun doing these!
<3
Enjoy!
Romantic Matchups; DC, Marvel, and X-Men
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Romantic;
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DC;
Victor Stone -
You were recruited as the newest member of the Titans, and at first, Victor was the one to show you around the tower.
He made jokes to break the ice, trying to get you to relax when he noticed you were a little reserved.
He was immediately intrigued by your style, pointing out how cool your nails and jewelry were, and even joking that you “got more upgrades than me.”
He quickly became your go-to person for anything tech-related, helping you set up in the tower and tweaking any gear you needed.
You, in turn, made a small handcrafted trinket for him as a thank you, which he immediately put in his room.
He's also very impressed by your powers.
Victor quickly became your closest friend on the team.
He loved your quiet but thoughtful presence, and he'd always take time to check in with you.
He'd play video games with you constantly.
Whether it was a high-energy fighting game, something co-op, or something as simple as Minecraft or Mario Kart, he loved seeing you get competitive.
He thought your dice and trinket collection was the coolest thing ever and made you a custom LED display case for them.
You'd sometimes just sit in his workplace together, you working on crafts while he tinkered with tech, enjoying the comforting silence.
He'd send you song recommendations all the time and would create playlists for different moods for you.
Playlists for when you're happy, sad, angry, and even one for when you just wanted to scream out lyrics to songs, you know, that feel-good stuff.
He started catching himself looking at you a little too long - admiring the way you focused when you worked on something or how you lit up when talking about something you loved.
Whenever you gave him something you made, he treasured it like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
He'd get more protective in battle, making sure you were never out of his sight for too long.
One night, after an intense gaming session, he hesitated before saying, "You know you're my favorite person to spend time with, right?" You chuckled, saying it right back to him, but when you looked at him, he was serious. "I mean it. I think- I think- no, I know that I like you."
It was sweet as it was kind of awkward, but when you told him that you felt the same, he broke into the biggest grin and playfully bumped his shoulder against yours.
Victor is a huge cuddler.
Though it is kind of difficult to cuddle - he doesn't want to risk hurting you since he's like 85% robot - you never seemed to mind, actively reaching out and just cuddling into him.
With this, he loves just lounging with you, whether it's while gaming, watching movies, or just talking about anything.
He always offers to upgrade your stuff, even if you don't necessarily need it.
"Your phone? It could be better. Let me add some custom features."
Dates are a mix of cozy nights in and fun outings, like going to arcades, amusement parks, or music festivals.
He loves it when you wear his oversized hoodies, even joking that you should just keep them at this point.
Victor loves making breakfast for you in the morning.
If you wake up late, you'll find a plate waiting for you with a little note.
Somehow, the food is still warm for you too.
You both have matching accessories - maybe a bracelet or a necklace - something small but meaningful.
He secretly records you when you're focused on your art and later shows you because he thinks you look adorable when you're lost in creativity.
Those videos also help him when he's lonely if you are either away on a mission or for any reason you and him were not together.
He misses you often.
Even if your bedroom is across from his.
He always makes sure you feel included in the team and checks in if you seem down.
Upgrades any tech-related thing in your life to make it easier or just more fun.
Picks up on the little things you like and gets them for you, from your favorite snacks to trinkets that match your collection.
You always make little handmade gifts for him, even if it's something as simple as a tiny figurine.
He cherishes them.
You give him forehead kisses whenever he gets too absorbed in working on tech - just a soft little way to ground him.
~~~
Marvel;
Wanda Maximoff -
You were one of the few people who believed Wanda and Pietro could be good before they officially joined the Avengers.
Pretending that Pietro survived.
During the battle against Ultron, you actively defended them when others doubted their intentions.
That moment stuck with Wanda forever.
When she joined the Avengers, she sought you out, wanting to talk to the one person who had believed in her from the start.
At first, Wanda was a little wary of getting too close, but your quiet kindness and support won her over.
She loved listening to you talk about your art, your crystals, and your crafts.
She thought it was beautiful how much care you put into creating things.
You'd have deep, thoughtful conversations about life and philosophy late at night.
She adored your music taste and often asked you to send her songs and playlists.
She loved it when you let her help pick out your outfits or makeup looks.
She started to crave your presence, finding comfort in just sitting with you in silence.
She loved touching you in small ways - fixing your hair, adjusting your glasses, brushing her fingers against yours.
When she realized that she loved you, it hit her all at once.
It happened on a quiet evening when you were both sitting outside.
She hesitated before softly saying, "I think I was meant to meet you." When you looked at her, she gave you a small, vulnerable smile. "Because I think I've fallen for you."
Wanda is a gentle lover - soft touches, forehead kisses, and lingering glances.
She adores playing with your hair, especially when you sit between her legs and let her braid it.
She surprises you with small floating lights in your room when you're having a bad day, just to make you smile.
She loves slow dancing, even if there's no music.
Lazy mornings where she clings to you like a koala refusing to let you get up.
Whispering in Sokovian when she is feeling affectionate, knowing you love the sound of her voice.
Her giving you one of her rings is a subtle sign of your relationship.
~~~
X-Men;
Kitty Pryde -
You were a new student at Xavier's, and Kitty was immediately drawn to you.
She struck up a conversation, complimenting your style and asking about your interests.
You bonded over a shared love for nerdy things - D&D, video games, and all things fantasy.
She loved that you collected dice and trinkets.
She always brought you new ones whenever she found something cool.
She adored your art and often peeked over your shoulder while you were drawing, offering random commentary.
Kitty realized she had feelings for you when she caught herself getting jealous whenever someone else had your attention.
She started touching you more - grabbing your hand when excited, leaning against you while watching movies.
She confessed in the middle of a game night, blurting out, "I think I kinda like you."
You raised an eyebrow, seeing her serious expression, "Are you sure only 'kinda?'"
And when you confessed that you felt the same, she practically tackled you in excitement.
Kitty loves stealing your hoodies, claiming they're hers now.
Video game dates that turn into playful competitions.
Late-night stargazing where she holds your hand and talks about the universe with you.
#cute#fluff#x reader#x you#x y/n#request#requested#anon request#headcanons#matchup#matchups#dc#dc comics#dcu#marvel#mcu#xmen#x-men#victor stone#victor stone x reader#cyborg#cyborg x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#kitty pryde#kitty pryde x reader
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Teen Titans Masterlist:
Damian Wayne / Robin
Being Damien's twin sister would include.
Raven
Koriand'r / Starfire
Victor Stone / Cyborg
Garfield Logan / Beast Boy
Jaime Reyes / Blue Beetle
Terra
#teen titans#teen titans x reader#teen titans headcanons#x reader#masterlist#headcanons#Damian Wayne#Damian#Robin#Damian Wayne x reader#Damian x reader#Robin x reader#Damian Wayne headcanons#Damian headcanons#Robin headcanons#Raven#Raven x reader#Raven headcanons#Koriand'r#Starfire#Koriand'r x reader#Starfire x reader#Koriand'r headcanons#Starfire headcanons#Victor Stone#Cyborg#Victor Stone x reader#Victor Stone headcanons#Cyborg x reader#Cyborg headcanons
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heyyy,
idk if ur active, but i loved your teen titans x reader scenarios!!
This idea popped into my head a while ago but could you plz write a what would the teen titans do, if you were getting picked on/made fun of (by other ppl)?
tyyy love your work!! :)))
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TEEN TITANS WITH BULLIED!!READER
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Date - 03/01/25
A/N - Hey!!! I know this request has been sitting for very very long now, but I have had a very chaotic few months and have had a lot of issues with my mental and physical health which left writing a very tedious task for me.
But now I'm going to get back to writing consecutively and just wondering if I started writing for Arcane, would you guys read it?? Love you guys so muchhhhh and I'm so glad that you like my work!!! ♡
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ROBIN -
I feel like Robin would be the type of guy to work out who exactly the people are who are picking on you and immediately dig up as much dirt on them as he can
Very much a problem solving and logic finding kind of guy, would try and figure out why they're targeting you specifically
He wouldn't go immediately to physical violence or insults, but carefully crafted jabs about their past or something bad that they've done that nobody is supposed to know about
He'd comfort you and reassure that their insults were not true and that nothing is your fault to the best of his ability.
He's not the best at physical touch and all that jazz but he'll try his best, wanting to comfort and help you as much as he can, knowing that the people's words probably affected you much more than you show.
He'd definitely be the type of person to keep an eye on the people for the foreseeable future, watching them and making sure that they don't so much as breath near you again now that he knows that they were picking on you.
Definitely the protective type to be honest, what do you guys think?!
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CYBORG -
I honestly feel like he has the capacity to be the type of person to just get angry and beat the people up depending on how far they had gone with picking on you, but at the same time I feel like he would be the type to take you to the side and speak to you about it
He'd try his best to get you to talk about it without forcing the information out as he'd sense that it may be a sensitive topic as being bullied usually is.
Depending on what has happened or what the people who were picking on you have said/done, he might go and seek advice from the other titans (with your permission of course)
Honestly, just overall, I think he has the ability to be the kind of person to just get in a rage and yell/beat them up, but he would probably go straight to the questioning you about what happened and formulating a plan about what he wants to do about it.
Would be a strategist about it i will admit, (my personal opinion lol) but like Robin, he would dig up dirt about them and use that as well.
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BEAST BOY -
100% would be raring and ready to go switch into like a tiger or something and beat them up, and would probably like it as well.
100% would beg to be able to go and get them
He'd be ready to go and fight/beat them up, but he has enough brains to figure out that you're probably upset about it already and isn't willing to make you more upset if you aren't willing to let him hurt the people picking on you
Again, would turn to the other titans such as Raven to help him, wanting to find the best solution for you despite wanting to fight them himself after figuring out what has happened
He'd also be the questioning type, wanting to know what they said to you and how long it's been going on and just general information about them.
I personally feel like he'd be quite sweet about it honestly
Definitely a thinking out loud type of person
Would pester you with suggestions on how to get back at them 24/7 until the people and the issue is dealt with, just wanting to help you as much as he can because he realised you're upset
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STARFIRE -
Wouldn't understand why you didn't want to make a big fuss out of it, would pester you about it like Beast Boy
She'd be the kind of person to inquire about why they're picking on you in the first place
Her immediate solution would be to find them and beat them up to prevent them from being mean to you at all in the future
If you expressed your opinion of not wanting her to go and beat them up, she'd be confused about why but would agree as it's you asking her specifically to just leave it alone
If you expressed your opinion of wanting her to go and beat them up, she would get one of the others to find out where they lived (or she would fly around the city until she found them) and would beat them up as you requested with a threat of not picking on you again or she would find them
Honestly would not be picky about it, would do either if it made you happy even the slightest bit
Would also be very sweet about it as that's who she is, but would probably go and ask the other Titans about people who pick on other people, and ask about why and what to do so she can help you
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RAVEN -
Wouldn't honestly really care until she sees how it's affecting you, and then she'd get involved, and only then.
Would push you to explain to her what they said and when this all started, wanting to understand as much as she can about this entire situation
Would jump immediately to using her powers to scare the ever-loving crap out of them because it's funny and it might make you feel better to watch them scream in fear
If you didn't want her to do anything, she would resignatedly back off but would continuously pester you about it until you personally did something about it or let her do something instead.
If you did want her to do something about it, she'd assume that you've now shared permission to do whatever and would then take it into her hands to scare the crap out of them constantly and pick on them like they picked on you so they'd stop
She'd only stop terrorizing them when they stopped picking on you
Wouldn't take a single word against what she's doing as she only wants to make you feel better about what's going on
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Hey guys!! Sorry, this is a short one, I'm getting used to being back in the swing of writing now, haha!! I hope you like this and pleaseeeee leave me some more requests. I will get right to them!!
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#x reader#x reader fluff#teen titans#fluff#bullying#raven teen titans#raven titans#raven roth#raven dc#raven x reader#cyborg x reader#cyborg teen titans#cyborg#victor stone#cyborg dc#beast boy x reader#beast boy teen titans#beast boy#garfield logan#dc universe#starfire x reader#starfire#starfire dc#starfire teen titans#koriand'r#robin x reader#robin teen titans#robin dc#robin#dick grayson
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Statue!Ghost x reader - pt 2
CW: 18+ MDNI, noncon/dubcon elements, size kink, horror aspects, scopophobia, temporary loss of movement, derealization(?), large insertion, reader gets fingered by a statue pt 1 - not edited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
It’s been getting worse.
Ever since you became fearful of a giant marble statue prowling around your place of work, the duration of your shifts would stretch out- mangled and twisted by his presence. No one would pass through the warehouse, causing the towering labyrinth of stock to feel more like an ancient crypt than a museum's storage.
In light of the phrase 'Out of sight, out of mind.' you had employed the company of a radio that hadn't seen daylight since the nineties to chase away the dread laving across your spine. It helped at first, finally letting you plug away at work, but it was shortlived- only lasting a moment before all sounds started to slowly wither away, leaving only you, your thoughts, and the distant scraping echo.
You couldn't decide which you disliked more; when you’d look away only to find him contorted into a new position, or when you actually saw it happen. Things that big, things with no fibrous muscle or supporting bone to speak of should not be able to move.
The hulking figure was fond of defying nature.
He had begun to do something much worse than the previous two options, though. The first time you experienced it, there was a quiet rolling noise, distant and unfamiliar. Your base instincts screamed at you not to look, and yet.
He was in a new pose this time, playfully holding his skull-shaped death mask against his face. That itself would not have been too bad if not for the two gaping black pits where his unblinking gaze had resided Two eyes, wet as your own and boasting irritated veins peered at you from the hollow holes through blown, pitch black irises. Following you.
Slowly, accompanied by the low hum of moving stone, the mask lowered to reveal his usual carved visage. Nothing was stated out loud but you could tell that against your will, something had shifted.
He approached, agonizingly slowly, but directly and with thundering footfall. He knelt down before you, head swiveling as he got closer inorganically. You could hear laboured breath whistling through the notch in his still lips, examining it at this angle revealed a small hole that hadn't been there before. This alerted you to a fact that gave you pause- below thick stone skin there was a cavity with room to accommodate something you couldn’t possibly begin to fathom rattling around inside him. The thought sat at your eyes, too difficult to be transmitted through their receptors into your brain beyond a surface level acknowledgment.
Up close, you could see that his motions were not as smooth as you had initially assumed; every inch moved labourous, awkward, and accompanied by the incremental jerk.
He would get closer until his lips, though much larger, were level with your own.
The contact came contradictorily, both expected- welcomed, and unheralded, an ice water shock to your system.
Something in your mind that had rationalized him as a thing had told you he was of flesh like you, but the kiss was chilled and unmoving. Stone fingers digging into the cement floor told you he was expecting reciprocity, leaving you with no other options but to accomodate embarassingly and press warm lips to stone.
His marble head nudged to the side softly, leading you like a lamb to the notch. Your lips slowed as you were hit with the nausea that accompanied peering into a hollow otherside, too dark to see anything in there- and there was something in there.
All at once, you were accosted by visions of a man, a victor- every glimpse lasting only microseconds and each one incredibly overwhelming.
Dizzy.
You fell back with a crawling sense of paralysis taking over your body, and with a freezing touch, more gentle and reverent than you could have ever expected- he cradled you, dragging his big body back to his ornate podium to pet and nudge at you, head uncannily tilting with curiousity for each sound he managed to pull from you.
Pulseless fingers prodded at you as you looked up at him and for a passing moment, he was man, both of the earth and grounded as a large finger slipped under your shirt, soft grit tracing at your belly. For a passing moment, expressionless monochromatic eyes were those of man too, incredibly melancholic and lonely before the emotion vanished, gone all to soon.
Your monolith breathed as his finger curled downwards, dipping into your undergarments, playing with the hidden flesh, absorbing your warmth for himself.
His touch heated, and you could hear distant cheers of a battle hard won and a band- no, a single instrument, perhaps a lyre? It sounded far off and intimate, but it was there; it's dulcet tones swimming around your head.
A big, warm hand fussed with your pussy, pumping in and out with an unspoken worship.
Too focused on the feeling, you could only barely make out his deep voice murmuring as he talked you through his touches, the blurred looming silhouette of your giant somehow bigger made mortal than he ever seemed in his effigy.
With heavy lids you blinked, and then through your bleary gaze you caught sight of those crystal clear bloodshot eyes set over a black void on his undefined face. You gasped, pulling away as he examined you, invasive and unwelcome gaze the only thing you could make out of his vague form. Like you had been scorched by fire, suddenly all you could feel was the hot freeze of a stone finger dug inside your folds, pumping you full. he continued to nudge around inside you experimentally, stretching you out far beyond anything you were accustomed to. he kept the same deep and agonizingly deliberate pace as you writhed beneath his bulk, squinting as humid, laboured Shallow breath fanned your face, painting you in a wet sheen. You clenched around the solid intrusion; crying out as you came on the numbingly cold marble that met your skin.
You panted, sprawled across stone with swelling lungs as you gazed upwards at the silent image of a man. Coming to, you blinked as sunlight bled in through the raised skylights, soaking the back of his head in a white glow. He stared back through unmoving spheres as you gave a shaky, torturous heave, pulling yourself off him. Ache scorched your inner muscles as you staggered through the warehouse and to the stairwell doors. As with all things relating to him, the sting only got worse the more you acknowledged it. Pushing the pain to the back of your mind, you stumbled towards your waypoint, everything around you becoming more tangible as ambient sounds flooded and warmed your ears. You didn’t look back at the carved idol, but that was fine- watchful eyes would find you through troubled dreams.
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You're last post got me thinking....what would happen if somehow someway another vampire got to Reader and turned her. I know Nat watches her obsessively but like shit happens. Like what would Nats reaction to something like that happening be?
You’re still mine. | N.R
Vampire!older!Natasha x Human!younger!Reader
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Warnings: kidnapping and forced turning
Word count: 2,5k
The sound of your ragged breathing filled the dark room, broken only by the rattling of chains and the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing against the cold stone.
Natasha was fighting against the restraints that bound her, the scent of burnt flesh thick in the air as the silver seared her wrists. But she didn’t care. She didn’t feel it.
Because you were in his hands. And she was helpless. He took his time. He savored moments like these..the ones where he got to watch Natasha suffer. And tonight? Tonight, he was going to destroy her.
His lips curled into a smirk as he lowered his head, his breath ghosting along your throat, making you shudder violently in his grasp. “Poor little thing.” he murmured, his fingers tightening around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You’re shaking. Tell me, is it fear? Or is it knowing what’s about to happen?”
A sharp sob escaped your lips, your entire body trembling against his hold. Your nails dug into his arms, desperate, panicked, pleading. Natasha snapped against the chains. “Stop!!” she snarled, her voice breaking. “Victor, let her go, she has nothing to do with this!”
Victor hummed, pretending to consider her words, before he let his fangs graze your skin, just enough for you to feel the sharpness. You whimpered, your hands gripping him tighter, your body trying to curl away, trying to disappear.
Natasha lost it. “VICTOR!” she screamed, her body thrashing against the restraints, her face twisting in desperation. “Fuck, please!” The plea left her lips before she could stop it, her voice hoarse with something that was almost a sob.
Victor grinned. “Did you hear that, little one?” he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. “She’s begging. The great Natasha Romanoff is begging for you.” Your breathing hitched, your chest rising and falling too fast, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
You could feel his fangs hovering just above your pulse. You could feel death breathing down your neck. You sobbed, gripping onto Victor even tighter, nails raking against his skin in raw, primal terror.
Natasha’s stomach twisted violently. “Malyshka (Baby), look at me..” she whispered, her voice cracking. You were shaking too much. Your body was too rigid, your fear suffocating you.
Natasha’s heart shattered. “Y/n..” Your wide, terrified eyes met hers. And Natasha, despite everything, forced a soft, broken smile. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Just keep looking at me.”
Your hands trembled violently, your grip on Victor never loosening, not because you wanted to hold him, but because your body was begging for something, anything to cling to.
Natasha felt like she was dying. Victor chuckled, his fangs trailing lightly along your skin, feeling your pulse beneath them.
“She’s holding onto me like I’m the one protecting her.” he mused mockingly, his lips brushing over your throat. Natasha saw red. “You sick son of a bitch-”
“Careful..” Victor murmured, his fingers tilting your head just slightly. “You don’t want me to lose control, do you?” Natasha clenched her teeth, forcing her expression to soften for you, despite the rage burning inside her.
“Moya lyubov (My love)..” she whispered, voice so soft it cracked. “I need you to focus on me. Just me. Not him, not what he’s doing. Just keep your eyes on mine, okay?”
Your gaze locked onto hers like it was the only thing keeping you alive. And maybe it was. “I’m scared..” you whimpered, voice barely audible. Natasha exhaled sharply, her throat burning. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”
Victor let out an exaggerated sigh. “How sweet.” Then, his fangs pressed in. You let out a strangled gasp, your body stiffening as the sharp points broke the skin but didn’t bite. Just enough to make you feel it. Just enough to send your body into a state of pure terror. Your nails sank into his arms, hard enough to break the skin. Natasha sobbed.
“You don’t have to do this..” she whispered, begged. Victor grinned. “Oh, but I do. You’ve kept her human for too long, Natasha. You’ve been selfish. And now? Now, you’ll watch as she becomes one of us.”
“NO-” Then, he bit. Your scream ripped through the room. Natasha howled, her body shaking, her wrists bleeding from how hard she was pulling against the chains.
“Y/N!” Your entire body arched in agony, your pulse slamming against Victor’s lips, your hands clutching onto him like he was your last anchor in a storm.
Natasha’s entire world shattered. Your breathing turned ragged, your limbs trembling violently, your blood pouring into Victor’s mouth. And Natasha felt it.
She felt the moment your heartbeat changed. The moment your body stopped being yours. Her vision blurred, the sound of her own screams echoing around her, her rage, her grief, her entire soul breaking into something unrecognizable.
“No, no, no-” she choked out, shaking her head, her body collapsing under the weight of everything. Victor exhaled sharply, dropping you to the ground, your limp body hitting the cold floor with a soft thud.
Natasha’s arms dropped, the silver finally giving way under her relentless struggle, but she didn’t care. She was already too late.
She crawled toward you, her hands shaking as she reached for your face, cradling you against her. “Open your eyes..” You twitched in her arms. A faint, broken breath left your lips. Your veins darkened.
Natasha choked on a sob, pressing desperate kisses to your forehead, her fingers trembling as they brushed through your hair. “I should have turned you myself..” she whispered, voice barely there.
Victor smiled, satisfied. “And that, Natasha, is exactly why I did it first.” Natasha didn’t even register the moment she killed him. She didn’t feel her hands tear into him, didn’t process the screams, the blood, the vengeance that overtook her.
Because none of it mattered. None of it would ever bring you back. And when your eyes finally opened, something in Natasha died. Because they weren’t yours anymore. They weren’t hers. And that? That was something she would never forgive.
“I’m here, lyubov’. I’m not leaving.”
“I should’ve protected you. I should’ve done more.”
The only sound in the room was the faint, ragged breaths slipping past your lips. You weren’t asleep. You weren’t awake. You were something else—something caught between death and rebirth, trapped in the hunger of your new existence.
And Natasha hated it. She had never wanted this for you. Never wanted you to be like her. She had spent years protecting you from this curse, from this hunger, from the eternal darkness that had consumed her soul.
But Victor had taken that choice from you. And now, she was left with the aftermath. Her hands clenched into fists, her rage simmering beneath the surface like an inferno ready to consume. Victor was dead, but that wasn’t enough.
Because his actions still lived on. Inside you. A sharp inhale pulled Natasha from her thoughts. She froze, her grip tightening around you as your body stirred for the first time since your turning.
You twitched, your breathing shallow, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. Natasha’s heart clenched. “I’m here-” Then, your eyes snapped open.And Natasha stilled. It wasn’t you. Not really.
Your irises were still the color she had memorized, but now? Now, they were darker. Your pupils were too wide, your gaze too sharp, your body too tense as your senses flooded with the overwhelming hunger.
Natasha knew the signs. You were starving. And you had never felt anything like it before. Your hands shot out, clutching at your chest, at your throat, at anything to make the burning stop. “N-Natasha-” your voice cracked, raw, breathless, desperate. “I’m here, just breathe-”
“It hurts!” You gasped, curling in on yourself, your hands trembling violently. The hunger clawed at your insides, tearing through you like fire, like nothing you had ever known.
“Make it stop!” you sobbed, your fingers digging into your own skin. Natasha grabbed your wrists before you could scratch yourself raw. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, I know, I know it hurts-”
Your breath came in sharp gasps, your entire body shaking as you clung to her like a lifeline. “What’s happening to me?” Natasha swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to tell you. She didn’t want you to know.
But the truth was already there, settling in your bones, seeping into your mind like a toxin. You weren’t human anymore. And Natasha could see it in your eyes..the growing fear, the way your body recognized its own monstrosity.
“I don’t-” Your voice broke. “I don’t feel like myself.” Natasha’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head up, forcing your gaze onto hers. “You are still you.” she whispered, her voice thick with something desperate, something aching.
Your lips trembled. “Then why do I feel like I’m dying?” Natasha inhaled sharply, her grip tightening. Because in a way, you had.
And the thing left behind was no longer the same. A quiet, broken sob slipped past your lips as you buried your face against her shoulder. “I don’t want to be this!” you whispered, pleaded. “I don’t want to be a..monster..”
Natasha’s arms wrapped around you so tight she thought she might break you all over again. “You’re not a monster.” she said, but even she wasn’t sure if it was true.
“You’re still mine.” You sniffled, your fingers clutching at her clothes like she was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. I’m scared..” Natasha shut her eyes, pressing her forehead to yours. “I know..” she whispered. “But I won’t let this break you.”
She exhaled sharply, her thumb grazing over your lips, her gaze flickering to the sharp tips of your fangs now fully bared. “I won’t let you go hungry either.”
Your body stiffened. Fuck, the hunger roared inside you. Natasha felt the shift before you did—the way your pupils dilated, the way your lips parted slightly, the way your entire posture changed as the need for blood overtook everything else.
You needed to feed. And Natasha was the only one you trusted to give it to you. She inhaled deeply, her hands sliding to the back of your neck, holding you steady.
“Drink from me.”
You froze. Your body trembled against hers, the sharp inhale of breath making Natasha’s stomach twist. Because she could feel your hunger. It was clawing at you, screaming at you to take what you needed. And Natasha Natasha wanted you to.
She needed to be the first blood you ever tasted. She needed to be the one to give you this..to guide you, to make sure you never craved anyone else the way you craved her. “I don’t-I don’t want to hurt you-”
“You won’t.” Her fingers tilted your chin, her lips ghosting over yours before she turned her head, exposing her throat to you in a silent offering.
“Take it.” she whispered. “Make yourself mine all over again.” Your body shuddered. Your lips brushed against her pulse. And then..Then you bit and Natasha sighed in relief. Because even if Victor had stolen your humanity-
Natasha’s entire body lurched forward as she gasped for air that she didn’t need. Her hands clenched the sheets beneath her, gripping them so tightly her nails nearly tore through the fabric. Her entire being felt like it had been ripped apart, like she had died a thousand times over in a single breath.
Her lungs burned, even though she knew they didn’t need to. Her mind spun violently, disoriented, lost. The scent of blood still clung to her senses, the echoes of your scream still piercing through her skull.
Her heart pounded in a way it never did anymore. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. She didn’t recognize the dim glow of the bedroom, the soft sheets beneath her body, the familiar warmth beside her. Everything still felt wrong, like she was still trapped in that dark, suffocating nightmare.
Victor’s laugh still rang in her ears. She could still see your body, the way you clung to him in fear, the way your eyes begged her to stop what was happening. She could still feel the moment your heartbeat faded into nothing, the way your body stilled in her arms, the moment you were no longer you.
And then she saw you. Her stomach twisted violently. You were beside her, curled up in the sheets, your breathing slow and steady, your body warm and untouched. Your face was soft in the dim light, your lips slightly parted in deep sleep, your hair falling messily over the pillow.
She turned, her movements frantic, her mind still too lost in the nightmare to believe she was free of it. You were here. You were alive. You were still hers. A choked breath left Natasha’s lips. Her fingers twitched, hesitating before she reached out, afraid, so afraid that if she touched you, you would disappear. That this was just another illusion, another cruel trick of the mind.
But then her fingers brushed against your skin. Warm. Soft. Real. Her breath shuddered, her chest tightening with something so raw, so unbearable that she thought she might collapse under it. Her other hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin, just to make sure.
She had never felt relief like this before. Her hands trembled as she traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight, careful,desperate. Her mind was still spinning, still caught somewhere between the nightmare and reality.
Her instincts screamed at her to hold you tighter, to never let go again, to make sure no one could ever take you from her. “I almost lost you..” she whispered, though you couldn’t hear her. Her voice was raw, barely there, but even in the silence, it was painful.
Her fingers moved to your wrist, pressing against your pulse point, needing, needing to feel it. The steady, rhythmic beat under her fingertips made something deep inside her crack wide open. She needed you. Her body moved before she could think, shifting closer, curling herself around you. She buried her face in your hair, inhaling deeply, letting your scent calm the raging storm in her mind.
But it wasn’t enough. She pressed herself closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, her fingers slipping beneath your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. The contact sent a shiver through her, grounding her, reminding her that this was real. That you were real. Natasha swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut as she held on.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, wrapped around you, her grip almost too tight, like she was afraid you would slip away if she loosened it even a fraction. She didn’t know how to stop feeling like she was still losing you.
“I won’t let anyone take you from me.” she murmured into your skin, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something unbreakable. She pressed a kiss to your shoulder, her lips lingering, her breathing unsteady.
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A/N: Under no circumstances will I let anyone else turn Y/n. 🙂↔️
#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov x reader#dom!natasha x reader#nat x reader#natasha romonova#the avengers#natasha#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov
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Our Time is Limited (18+)
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Part II
Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader
-- Platonic/former lover relationship with Emperor Caracalla x Reader
Synopsis: Reader has belonged to Caracalla for as long as she can remember, her job has been to love and serve him in the quiet moments when even the attention of a concubine cannot suffice. She has served the emperor in whatever capacity he desired. Through the years her love for him grew beyond what many would have deemed proper for one in her position of employment, but it was not a romantic love. The presence of disease had stolen the man she'd once given everything to. Left to care for Caracalla in the midst of his break from reality, Emperor Geta and the reader are forced to admit the feelings they've long harbored for one another.
Warnings: SMUT/sexual acts + "cheating" (but not really, Caracalla and reader no longer have that kind of relationship) + alcohol consumption + language (?)
A/N: Well... when I said the crazy emperors had my brain... I wasn't lying. I have not abandoned my Marcus Acacius story... I just needed to get this off my mind. That said, there may be one more part of this depending on how I feel and how this does. I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this in a couple of hours.
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Hovering in the background, you squeezed between the spectators, inching closer to the emperors. The copper-headed pair sat surrounded by their entourage of concubines and common whores whose sole purpose was to entertain, to give in to the whims of the men they served. Your role was not entirely different, and yet, you were to be set apart from the others. Your presence at these events was required, but the emperors would sooner murder than allow the public to view you in the same light as those whose hands roamed their bodies in public. You served a much more intimate purpose. Therefore, you kept your distance, leaving just enough space between yourself and them so that no eyes would wonder and question.
Out of the corner of his eye, Emperor Geta caught your approach. His eyes locked onto you, searching for any sign of anxiety or nerves. He knew without question that you desired to be anywhere but here, and still, he didn't doubt that your loyalty remained strong. Your features were stoney and severe with your attention falling to his brother whose eyes were on the scantly clad man sat before him. The burnt orange of your stola matched the hue his brother famously loved and complimented the bare expanse of skin along the shapely curve of your arms and shoulders. You were positively stunning, every bit the measure of the well-to-do women who adorned their husbands' arms.
Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Geta hesitated for a moment, seeing the weariness behind your eyes. Something troubled you, but given the state of his brother's mental well-being, it was likely as anything that was the cause of your worry. With nothing to be done at the time, he reached for the concubine he’d carted along for the day's festivities. Hauling her close, he let the weight of her hand against his chest, settle the crashing energy that sang through his body, but nothing was a match for the intensity of the fight that erupted amongst the gladiators.
The fight was brutal and quick. The larger man crumpled into a bloody heap, soaking the marble floor in a sea of sickly scarlet. The pool smeared beneath the weight of his body as the guards dragged him out of the room. The grunts and moans of pain were soon replaced by the questioning trill of Emperor Geta. The fight had clearly impressed him. The eloquent sound of poetry rolling off the tongue of the victor caught you as strange, but now was not the time to linger. With the crowd in awe and Geta keyed up, it felt like the appropriate moment to slink back into oblivion.
You maneuvered down a darkened hall, the only light poured in amber waves along the stone from the torches that lined the walls. The walk passed without note, the distant sound of chatter gave way to the echo of your sandaled feet. Each step brought you further from the chaos of the arena and for that you were grateful. No matter how many games you saw, the violence never grew more appealing. You couldn’t blame the emperors for enjoying the joys they were afforded in life, but that did nothing to change your opinion. They could eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy whatever and whomever they desired. Your job was simply to be there when called. No questions or judgment, and that was more than enough for you to handle.
The sudden clomp of footfalls barreling down the corridor sent electricity singing down your spine. Snapping back in their direction, you reached for the blade which sat flush along your thigh. The metal was warm to the touch, the heat of your body having warmed it palpably. No sooner had you freed it of its holster, than a familiar face rounded the corner. Emperor Geta’s pale face glowed oddly in the flickering light, the shadows casting his features in mystery. Sliding your weapon back into place, you stayed rooted to the spot and waited the mere seconds it took for him to close the space between you.
“Where are you going?” His voice was soft as he crowded into your space. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to touch you, to hold you close, but that was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, if only for the sake of his brother’s well-being. “My brother… he calls for you.”
Your face dropped to the floor, unable to stand the burn of his molten stare. “I am unwell… my-my head.” The lie was partially rooted in truth. The violence of the fight brought back memories of a long past day that led you to the gates of the palace, in need of a kindness that only those in power could grant you. The simple memory of which brought you real physical pain.
“Have you eaten today? Perhaps some wine and bread could cure what ails you. I have selected the best for our celebration.” A thin smile flashed upon the emperor’s face, pulling the corner of his lips up in a beautiful tilt though the grin didn’t meet his eyes.
“As much as I adore your taste in wine, I do not believe any amount of drink will ease the pain I am feeling. Now if you’ll excuse me, Emperor.” The swish of your stola brushing against your skin sounded as you turned away.
Panic flashed hot forcing Geta to move… to speak. “Wait!” His outstretched hand sat in the space between you for only a moment before dropping back to his side. “He needs you… he’s- he’s struggling. Today is not a good day.”
“I am aware, but he has you.”
“But I am not the one he desires.” Once again, Geta stepped closer, pleading with you to listen. “I fear what he will do, how he will act before the public today without you by his side. Please, for his sake… and for my own. Care for him as only you are able.”
The sheen that pooled in Geta’s eyes was enough to flip your stomach. This cruel and vicious man held his heart wide for those he loved. It was a select few, but those he cared for in that way were not only adored beyond measure but treated with a life only he could provide. There was a true sincerity to it. He held his brother dear despite the many rumors that circulated about the pair. Caracalla had long since been the subject of jokes and cruel speculation. It was true, the illness that plagued his loins had spread to his brain, eating away at the once vibrant and loving man he’d once been. And yet, no matter how much he’d lost to the disease, there was always a thread of his former self there to reel him in and back to reality.
But as of late, that thin connection between reality and fantasy had grown more fragile. It took a delicate hand to keep Caracalla balanced, especially in front of important company and prying eyes. You and Emperor Geta were the cherished few who had the ability to return Caracalla to this world, and increasingly, your loving touch seemed to be the only thing that worked.
“I understand. I will do what is necessary.” You nodded shallowly, acknowledging the favor the emperor had asked of you. “Let us not linger, it is unwise for him to be alone with those vultures you surround yourselves with.”
A flicker of shock at your boldness shot across his features, but he decided against pursuing the thoughts and questions that flooded his mind. Instead, he settled with a simple statement of thanks before guiding you back to his brother.
The murmur of people grew louder with each passing step until it reached a tipping point. Back inside the space you’d fled so quickly, you searched the crowd for Caracalla. It took only seconds to find him, standing beside the table overflowing with treats and wine. Your approach was lost on him, his entire focus settled on selecting the next delicacy. With his stability in question, you knew it would be wise to make your presence known before stepping into the space beside him.
“Emperor Caracalla!” The youthful man turned to find the person who’d spoken, and at the sight of you, an enormous grin erupted from ear to ear across his pockmarked face. “What delicious finds have you discovered for us today?!” The shirtless man who’d accompanied the emperor from before took one look at you and decided he was no longer needed. Relieved of his duty, he retreated to stand with the group of concubines that had formed near the entrance, greeting the guests as they moved to and fro.
“My dear!” Crumbs adorned the corners of his mouth as he held the remnants of a pastry in his hand. “Come! You must try this! It is simply delightful!”
The emperor met you halfway, holding out the last bite for you to take. You could feel the stares that descended upon the pair of you as he held the last bite to your lips. You opened for him, luxuriating in the sweetness that coated your tongue. Caracalla’s eyes gleamed with delight at the sound of your satisfied hum of appreciation unaware of how this interaction would appear to others.
“It was delicious. Thank you for sharing.” You reached for his face and brushed away the flecks of baked dough that clung to his makeuped countenance. Avoiding the open marks that even rouge could not cover, you pushed through the pain to give him the smile he so clearly wanted to see. The boyish wonder in his eyes was catching.
The emperor’s fragile hands settled on your waist. His touch was not that of a lover, but that of a young man desperate for the attention and love he deserved. Holding you close as he spoke. “Where did you go? I’d thought you’d left me.” Caracalla paused for a moment intending to let you speak, but the furrow of your brows kept the words flowing. “Are you all right? Your brow is pinched. You only get that look when you are in pain.”
Tenderly, you swept a stray hair away from his temple. “I am as well as can be expected, and please, forgive me for my momentary absence. The swell of noise during the fight was too much for me to handle. But I am here now. I would never leave you.”
“But you are not well… I can see it here. It is one of your head pains.” The pad of his finger ran between your brows and down the bridge of your nose. “You need not be brave for me. You must rest, there will be many more games for you to enjoy.”
Sensing a pair of knowing eyes upon you, your attention flicked in the direction of Emperor Geta and found him watching just as you’d suspected. Even without words, you knew exactly what he asked. The nearly imperceptible nod of your head assured him that you were going to uphold your promise.
“I appreciate your kindness, Emperor, but my place is here… with you. There will be time for rest later. Besides, I’m sure a steady flow of wine and pastries would do me good.” You forced yourself to smile once more before heading toward the table. “Join me. Tell me what I must try!”
A gleeful laugh bubbled from Caracalla as he followed quickly behind. The pair of you stayed like this, tasting and drinking until it was time to retreat to the Emperors’ box for the games. Focused only on the task at hand, your eyes never ventured into the arena. Rather, you studied the way Caracalla moved, the cadence of his speech, admiring the way his eyes lit up at the clash of swords. Through all this, unbeknownst to you, Geta’s attention split between the violence unfolding before him and yourself. He clung to the sound of your laughter and marked the hazy film that unfocused your gaze the longer the day drug on. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the pain you’d claimed to be ailed by earlier had grown nearly unbearable, and yet your attention never wavered. The dedication you showed his brother filled him with something he couldn’t label. The warmth low in his belly belied just how fully he’d come to care for you.
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Night had settled upon the emperors' residence. The halls fluttered with torchlight, but the depths of Geta’s chambers were a murky gray, illuminated only by the moon filtering through curtains that swayed in the breeze. The concubines he’d selected to entertain his needs lay spread out over his bed, their bare skin damp with sweat from the night’s activities. The only sound besides that of their gentle breathing was the rustle of the soldiers posted outside his door. One could never be too careful.
The blissful silence had him drifting into sleep when the sudden thunder of banging upon his door ripped him from the edge of slumber. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he reached for the knife that sat beneath his pillow, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Geta’d barely managed to extricate himself from the pile of limbs he’d been entangled with and don his robes when the frantic call of your voice pleading with his praetorian sent dread running through his limbs. Heavy with worry and lack of sleep, he pushed across the large room and ripped open the door.
The movement was followed by your lithe frame pushing inside his chambers, and what he saw only heightened his fear. Crimson stained your cheek, running down the smooth expanse of your neck before soaking into the luscious fabric of the robe you had wrapped around yourself. He recognized it at once as belonging to Caracalla. The fact that you’d been attending to his brother was not unexpected, but the wound that marred your face was terrifying.
“You’re hurt! Tell me at once who did this to you!?” Geta’s voice shook with the effort it took to maintain his control. Behind him, the stirring of his “guests” went unnoticed. His calloused fingers wiped gently at the oozing cut along the top of your cheek. You’d flinched from the pain, reaching for his wrist to still his ministrations. Frozen in place at the feeling of your touch, he waited barely breathing for your response.
“It’s your brother! He woke in a fit, he… he didn’t recognize me. He tried to- he thou- he thought I was there to kill him. He-”
“He did this to you?!” It wasn’t so much a question to you, but to himself for this was the thing he’d always feared. The day in which even your presence wouldn’t be enough to return him to this world.
“Yes.” You whispered, afraid of what this could mean for the beautiful men you’d come to adore after all this time. The pain in Geta’s eyes at your confusion was crushing. “I am so sorry, Geta.”
“Do not apologize. I will take care of this.” Forced to let go of you, he spoke quickly with his guards before dismissing his guests. The women scrambled for any scrap of clothing they could find and made their hasty exit.
Moving on his command, the soldiers hastened toward Caracalla’s chamber, leaving you behind with Geta. Alone, he grabbed for a chiton that lay draped over the chair beside him. Reaching for you, he pressed the cloth to your cheek applying pressure as he spoke, “Stay here, and keep this on the wound until I return. When I leave, lock the door behind me and open for no one other than myself. Understand?”
“Yes.” A slight nod from him was all he managed before turning to follow his praetorian.
Doing as you were told, you soon moved further into the room. You admired the lived-in feel it maintained despite the solid marble that made up every surface. The bed sat disheveled, clearly the night's adventures had been rather boisterous. Staring at the tangle of sheets, you felt the bile rise in your stomach. You laid no claim upon Geta and yet you couldn’t stop the bubble of envy that stirred in your soul.
The breeze fluttered through the curtains allowing you to peer beyond the protective walls of the palace to the streets of Rome. Even at this late hour, people moved about. Some lit their path with flame while others remained shrouded in darkness, praying they could slither about unnoticed. It took only a few more steps to reach the balcony. Fresh air filled your lungs as you leaned against the entryway, your nerves still buzzing with anxiety. Time slipped by unreliably. Each minute an hour, fraying the last of your resolve into shreds.
-------------------------------------------------------
Eventually, a soft knock accompanied by Geta’s worn voice pulled you across the room. Petrified to know what had become of the situation, you hesitated before opening the door. The wood groaned under your touch, but it was the tear-streaked face that lay on the other side that nearly stopped your heart.
“What happened?” You inquired, giving Geta space to slip inside his room. The loud thunk of the lock being placed filled the silence before he gathered the strength to speak.
Reaching for the cloth you pressed to your cheek, his voice trembled, the gravel in it even more present. “It is taken care of.” The soft thump of the chiton hitting the floor punctuated his confession. The pit in your stomach was anything but relieved by his answer.
“What does that mean?” You searched for signs of gore along the cuffs of his robes, terrified of what you might find.
“He’s sedated. May the gods right his mind during this sleep.” You watched Geta as he scanned over the now-clotted wound along your cheek. Though you couldn’t see, there was no doubt that deep shades of blue and purple had already begun to bloom alongside where the knife had sliced your skin.
“Come here. We must clean this or risk infection.” He moved toward the nearby table.
“It is alright. I can take care of it myself. There is acetum and honey in Caracalla’s chamber. There is no need to waste your supply or your time. You must be exhausted.” Tired only of pretending, Geta’s sturdy frame crowded your space, backing you gently into the cool expanse of stone next to the doorframe. With nowhere to go, you forced yourself to look him in the eye for the first time since he’d returned from tending to his brother.
Words clawed at the back of your throat, trapped beneath the swell of emotions that burned the bridge of your nose. As if moving on their own accorded, Geta’s sure hands found the curve of your waist and the stained column of your neck. Resting his brow against yours, the warmth of his breath drifted over your face as he spoke. “Stay here... with me. I do not care for the idea of you alone with him. Not after this.”
Geta’s chapped lips brushed over yours, never quite embracing the plush expanse of your mouth, but it was more than enough to send a flush rushing over your skin. Your lungs hitched at the feeling of his mouth falling to the hollow of your neck. He hovered over your body, only catching skin for fractions of a second at a time. Your hands found him, running the length of his chest before dipping inside his robes to trace light lines over the ripple of muscle that lay beneath the surface. Geta’s own lungs caught at the press of your hand low upon his abdomen.
Your whisper at the shell of his ear locked him in place. “I cannot stay, you know this. My place is with him.”
“That is only half the truth and you know it. You feel it the same as I… you belong here… with me. You always have.”
“My contract would say otherwise.” The raw ache in your voice pulled Geta back to look at your face. Silver pools threatened to fall as you continued, “Until your brother passes or frees me from his service, I belong to him and no other. It matters not what I feel for you.”
“You cannot believe that.”
“Then what am I to believe?” Defiantly, you pressed the flat of your palms to his chest and pushed him back further. “He is the emperor of Rome, the same as you. To defy him would mean my death, even you could not overrule that.”
“He would he would never have to know.”
“Secrets move like lightning in this palace. There would be no keeping this from him.” You moved to make your exit, but the firm grip of Geta’s hand on your wrist kept you from fleeing. You whipped to face him, striking with your words like a snake, “My death would be on your hands and I do not want that weighing on your conscience. Not now, too much rests on your shoulders. If you feel for me as you say you do… then you know what we must be to each other. We can have nothing more.”
“I’m tired of waiting, of pretending that I want anyone but you warming my bed. You are what I desire, what I have always desired. Must I continue to lie to appease my brother?”
“Your brother’s time grows short. I will not squander it and neither should you!”
“There are enemies around every corner, there is no promise of tomorrow. Why should I deny myself what I want most?” Swiftly, Geta hauled you close, his lips crashed against yours, devouring the taste of you. With your back against the wall once more, he slotted his thigh between your own, pressing you down upon himself and earning the most glorious moan from your lips. Caution was thrown to the gods as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding firm to the roots as he palmed your breasts over your robes. The swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent shivers down your spine and sparked a newfound energy in the emperor.
He wanted more, needed more. The sounds of your altered breathing, paired with the dampness pooling along his thigh gave him the permission to keep going. With practiced ease, he untied the knot at your waist, and pushed the oversized robe from your shoulders, exposing you to him.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against your skin as he spoke. His lips worked a line of fire from the hollow of your neck to your chest. The talented flick of his tongue over your nipple had you gasping for air. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Tiny whimpers from you accompanied his continued journey south. Dropping to his knees, he found himself mesmerized by the feeling of your skin beneath his lips. Calloused hands roamed the broad expanse of your stomach before dropping to explore your thighs.
Geta nipped and sucked at the skin there, leaving marks only he’d know existed. Nearly to where you needed to feel him the most, the emperor pulled back, leaving your skin on fire and your need unfulfilled. A whine ripped from your lungs as your eyes dropped to look at him, and what you found was intoxicating. Geta’s eyes were blown, the rich brown was hidden behind his pupils. Lust had replaced all other emotions.
Your fingers ran through his soft strands in a feeble attempt at guiding him back to you. When you felt him resist, you finally spoke. “Why have you stopped?”
Geta’s strong hands gripped the back of your legs, keeping you steady as he spoke. “Believe me when I say this, I love you. Nothing will stand between us. I vow to protect you until my dying day”
The emperor didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, his mouth returned to you, this time right where you’d wanted him before. The steady pressure of his lips around your sensitive bud would have been enough to bring you over the edge, but the insistent curl of his fingers in your core had you keening. Geta hummed against you adding to the pleasure. It had been far too long since you’d felt the loving touch of another. What existed between you and Caracalla had never made it to this point. For certain, there had been romantic moments, sensual touches, and lust-fueled encounters, but those had long since ceased. Even prior to the onset of his illness things had begun to shift. But the real change had come upon him falling ill. This had brought about a necessary departure from that kind of bond. The disease that stole him from reality also stole him from the urges that all humans felt, leaving you to take care of yourself in those moments for far too long.
But in this room, surrounded by only moonlight, and the man at your feet, you found yourself again. It took only a few more well-placed strokes of his fingers for Geta to bring you over the edge. Sparks tore through your body, causing your muscles to spam and your core to clench in rhythmic waves around his fingers. Carefully, Geta worked you through your release stopping only once he felt your body relax. Unsure of your ability to stay standing on your own, he stood to full height, capturing your lips at once.
You could taste yourself upon his lips, earning him a heady groan. Wanting to hear more of you, he brought his slick-covered fingers to your mouth, running his calloused fingers lips along them before dipping past your lips. The plush heat of your tongue swirling around him, sent his head spinning as he purred in your ear. “Good girl.”
You could feel him hard against your stomach, his own robes were now damp with arousal. The desire to return the favor was overwhelming, and had it not been for his next request, you’d have dropped to your knees just then. Geta smoothly whispered. “Let me take you to bed, even if it’s just for tonight. Let me love you the way you deserve.”
Geta’s wide palms slid over your backside before lifting you gracefully into his arms. Stumbling back to his bed, he lowered you into the expanse of soft sheets that covered the mattress. With you safe and settled, he stepped back and removed his robe. Dropping the burgundy and gold material to the ground, his fist ran the length of his cock, tearing a hiss from between his teeth as he rolled over the throbbing tip.
Geta’s self-control crumbled at the sight of you sprawled out before him. Your hands roamed your own body fluttering over your core and massaging your breasts. With each pass of your fingers, his need to feel you wrapped around him grew too much to bear. Done with waiting, done with watching, the emperor lowered himself on top of you, collecting your slick with his member before easing himself inside. Geta’s strong arms caged you in, blocking out everything but the feeling of you and him together. He searched for your lips, needing to kiss you, but the embrace soon turned into nothing more than swallowing each other's moans. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge once more, even as he clung to the final shred of himself.
“Geta, please…” The pitiful sound of his name tumbling from your lips, accompanied the drag of your nails along his back. Your actions were sure to have left a mark, but it mattered not. With one final pull at the base of his hair, Geta let himself go. You were soon to follow. Your ragged breaths matched with his as he lowered himself further onto you. His weight was heavy against your chest, and yet you knew without it you’d feel exposed. It was exactly what you both needed as you came down from your high.
As your breathing slowed down, the emperor rolled to his side, leaving you empty. You whined at the loss of him, but as if sensing your need, he reached for you, hauling you close. Your face pressed into his chest as your legs tangled. Alone, in his bed, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you close. For the first time in ages, the world seemed right, as if nothing terrible could happen. He knew that come break of day things would return to normal, but for now, he’d live in this temporary reality.
(Part II)
#emperor geta#emperor geta x reader#emperor geta smut#geta smut#geta x reader#gladiator ll#gladiator fanfiction#gladiator ii#gladiator 2
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Teen Titans ended 19 years ago today on CartoonNetwork!!!
WORST ENDING EVER!!!😑😩😭
#Teen Titans#DC#dc comics#CartoonNetwork#Raven#Rachel Roth#Beast Boy#Garfield Logan#Starfire#Koriand'r#Cyborg#Victor Stone#Robin#Dick Grayson#Dick Grayson x reader#💜💜💜#💚💚💚#🧡🧡🧡#💙💙💙#❤️❤���❤️#Bob Haney#Bruno Premiani#Glen Murakami#David Slack#Sam Register#Scott Menville#Hynden Walch#Khary Payton#Tara Strong#Greg Cipes
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Hi I love your work! I was hoping I could get a romantic and platonic DC match up. I’m a 18 y/o girl I use she/her pronouns and I’m heterosexual.
Physical appearance: I am 5’7 and thin, I have blonde hair and hazel eyes, I also have glasses but I only wear them when I really need to, I am also a pale person.
Personality: I am a INTP (logician), I’m pretty friendly, if I don’t know someone then I probably won’t start the conversation with them unless I need something, I’m pretty laid back and easy going, I tend to joke with my friends quite a lot with either smartass comments or sarcasm, I’m also somewhat of the ‘mom’ in my friend group, I’m also the friend who’s willing to tell someone off if they are being rude for no reason or coming at someone sideways even if the person I’m telling off is my friend, I’m a very blunt and honest person but I don’t say anything unless someone asks me for my thoughts or if I really need to step in and say something.
Hobbies: Drawing, painting, baking, and cooking
Aesthetic: I don’t exactly have an aesthetic but I do love my pastels, sweaters, bows, flowers, and early mornings.
Favorite movies/shows: my favorite show is 911, and my favorite movie would probably be any of the Scream movies I love my horror movies and I love my drama shows.
Music: honestly I don’t have a favorite music I listen to a lot of different things. If I had to pick some favorites I would definitely pick chill, R&B/soul, and upbeat.
Hope this isn’t like too much detail or info and I’m sorry if it’s a bit long!
Hello! I am so glad that you love my work!
I hope you like your matchups! <333
Enjoy!
:)
Romantic and Platonic Matchups; DC
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
DC;
Victor Stone (Cyborg) -
You had first met Victor during a Young Justice League meeting.
You'd been asked to showcase some of your artistic abilities for a project aimed at public outreach and inspiring younger generations.
Victor was instantly intrigued by your combination of creativity and calm demeanor in a room mostly full of high-energy heroes.
His curiosity grew when he overheard your sarcastic quips, quietly snickering to himself while adjusting and fidgeting with some tech.
He approached you during a break, initially making small talk about your artwork but quickly shifting to nerding out about you shared favorite movie.
When he found out you were into cooking and baking, he couldn’t resist asking, “So, can I order cookies and get them delivered through Boom Tube? Asking for a friend.”
Victor appreciates how laid-back and approachable you are.
Even when he’s having an off day, your friendly but non-intrusive nature puts him at ease.
You both bond over your shared love for sarcasm.
He loves that you’re quick-witted and can match his dry humor.
He’s thrown off (in the best way) when your mom-friend side comes out, especially when you tell him to get proper rest after a mission.
He admires your honesty.
You don’t sugarcoat things, but your bluntness never feels overly harsh - it’s always laced with care and respect.
Victor often calls you his “art guru” and commissions you to paint or draw pieces for his friends and family, including a portrait of his late mother that he treasures.
He is all in for paying you money and will add in snacks and your favorite drinks too.
Victor starts developing feelings for you during one of your many late-night conversations.
Your intellect, creativity, and genuine kindness begin to light up parts of him he thought had dimmed.
And you didn't mind that he was mostly a cyborg, so that was definitely a plus.
He admires how you step in to defend people, not tolerating nonsense.
He loves watching you stand your ground, especially against cocky league members.
He finds your aesthetic and personal style adorable. He secretly thinks your love for pastels and sweaters contrasts beautifully with his more futuristic and tech-heavy vibe.
He will buy you accessories and clothing that works with your vibe. "Oh, yeah, I saw this, and I thought of you." He spoke, handing you a pastel pink knitted sweater with Ghostface from Scream on it.
Victor’s confession comes after weeks of building tension, where he’s been trying to figure out the best way to express his feelings.
He's not the best at feelings, he gets nervous quite quickly...
But, he’s been dropping subtle hints, like lingering glances, extra care during missions, and playful comments that almost sound like flirting.
He also started trying to impress you, either with his tech skills or during missions.
The moment happens one quiet evening in the Watchtower after a long day.
You’re both sitting in the rec room, you sketching on your notepad while he tinkers with a gadget.
There’s an easy silence between you, only broken by the occasional hum of his tech or the scratching of your pencil.
Out of nowhere, Victor starts talking. At first, it’s casual - about how he admires your talent and how you’re one of the few people who really sees him beyond his mechanical parts. But then his voice softens, and he puts the gadget down.
“You know,” He begins, looking at you with a mix of nervousness and determination, “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now. It’s… Not exactly easy for me to say, but I think you deserve to hear it.”
You set your sketchpad down, giving him your full attention.
“I thought I had my life figured out - missions, tech, all that. But then you came along with your amazing sarcasm, your pastel bows in your hair, and the way you stand up for people without even thinking twice. And suddenly, everything I thought I knew felt… Incomplete.”
He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You make me feel human. You see me. And I- I think I’m falling for you.”
His confession is so raw and genuine that it leaves you speechless for a moment.
When you finally respond, it’s with a grin, leaning slightly closer to him. “So, let me get this straight - you’re saying my pastel bows and my killer sarcasm are some of the aspects that made you fall for me?"
Victor blinks, a little caught off guard by your teasing tone but then chuckles, shaking his head. “I mean… Those might’ve sealed the deal, yeah.”
You laugh, leaning back with mock triumph. “Good. Just making sure you’re falling for me for all the right reasons.” Then, softening, you add, “But seriously, Vic... I’m falling for you too. And not just because you’re half the reason I haven’t died on a mission yet.”
He grins, the tension breaking as he pulls you into a hug, muttering something about how you always have to get the last word.
Victor is a thoughtful and innovative boyfriend.
Knowing you love flowers, he creates a holographic bouquet that changes colors and blooms with each new day. He also insists on getting you real flowers too because, “Why not both?”
Your dates often involve activities that combine your interests: baking nights where he helps mix ingredients with precise measurements, early morning walks with scenic views where you quietly share stories, or movie marathons with horror and drama films (he always claims he’s not scared, but you catch him jumping at the intense scenes).
You surprise him with personalized gifts like oversized matching pastel sweaters and hoodies and homemade cookies in his favorite flavor.
On days off, you two have unofficial “chill and jam sessions.” He plays music from his built-in library while you experiment with drawing, painting, or even attempting to teach him how to paint too. Even though he tries to cheat by giving himself a painting upgrade.
When you’re stressed, he uses his tech to dim the lights and play relaxing music, setting up a cozy atmosphere with snacks and blankets.
Victor learns to adapt his tech to better accommodate your needs.
Knowing you wear glasses only when necessary, he offers to enhance your frames with holographic adjustments so they’re stylish and have secret functions, like Google, so you can take pictures, or so you can watch YouTube videos or Netflix.
He’s incredibly protective but trusts you to handle yourself. Still, he’s always ready to intervene if someone pushes your boundaries or disrespects you.
You’re one of the few people who sees Victor beyond his tech. You remind him of his humanity and always reassure him when he feels self-conscious.
When Victor works long hours, you bring him snacks and coffee, sometimes leaving little doodles or notes to brighten his day.
You’re his hype person, always cheering him on during missions or when he’s struggling with personal challenges.
Your thoughtful nature means you always remember the little things, like anniversaries or moments when he’s expressed small wishes (like recreating his mom’s favorite recipe).
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
DC;
Harley Quinn -
You meet Harley during a community event organized by the Justice League where she was helping out as part of her rehabilitation.
She was stationed at the kids’ painting booth, her face smudged with colorful fingerprints as she enthusiastically encouraged chaos on the canvas.
You ended up at her booth to help organize supplies, and Harley immediately took a liking to your pastel style, saying, “Ooh, you’re like a walking cotton candy! We’re gonna be besties, I can feel it!”
Harley loves your calm energy and thinks your laid-back vibe balances out her chaotic personality perfectly.
She jokingly calls you “Momma Bear” when your more protective side comes out.
She adores your artistic talents and constantly asks you to teach her how to draw or paint.
You bond over baking disasters. Harley’s attempts at baking often end in explosions or a mess, but she thinks your kitchen catastrophes are “beautiful disasters.”
She loves dragging you to quirky little shops, often picking out the weirdest accessories and daring you to wear them.
She will steal things for you.
Movie nights with Harley are wild. She gets way too into horror films, yelling at the characters to “Run, ya morons!” And occasionally throwing popcorn at the TV.
She’s your partner-in-crime for creative projects. Whether it’s painting a mural or redecorating your room, she brings chaotic energy but surprisingly great ideas.
You two have a mutual love for animals and often visit shelters or sanctuaries together. Harley tries to convince you to adopt every animal you see.
"You need a furry friend! And Bruce needs a new friend too!"
By the way, Bruce the Hyena loves you!
Harley insists on giving you makeovers, which often end with mismatched eyeshadow and wild hairstyles. You secretly love how fun and carefree it is. And her makeovers match your soft aesthetic.
She also lets you give her makeovers too. :)
Harley is fiercely protective of you.
If anyone upsets you, she’s the first to step in, saying, “Who do I gotta whack to fix this?” (mostly joking… Mostly).
She surprises you with little gifts, like pastel bows or funky accessories that match your aesthetic.
Harley notices when you’re stressed and drags you outside for a spontaneous adventure, saying, “Fresh air and a lil’ mischief will fix ya right up!”
She hypes up your art and makes sure everyone knows how talented you are, often showing it off to others with pride.
You’re one of the few people who treats Harley like a person, not just her past mistakes. Your kindness helps her feel grounded and appreciated.
You encourage her to channel her chaotic energy into creative outlets like painting, writing, or gardening.
She likes gardening. :)
You bake her favorite treats, even if they don’t always turn out perfect. She thinks it’s the thought that counts.
You’re always there to listen when she needs someone to talk to.
#cute#fluff#x reader#x you#x y/n#request#requested#anon request#headcanons#matchup#matchups#dc#dc comics#victor stone#victor stone x reader#cyborg#cyborg x reader#cyborg victor stone#harley quinn#harley quinn x reader
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In Another Life | Part I
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)
Chapter Summary: Your brother and his friend surprise you after work with a handsome stranger crashing on your couch who claims to be from Ancient Rome.
Chapter Warnings: language, food consumption, major romcom vibes, mentions of prostitution, mentions of OC death, mentions of OC pregnancy, flirting, sexual tension
WC: 6.5K
A/N: this is a soft/romcom Marcus Acacius mini-series. Heavily inspired by Kate & Leopold. Also, let's just assume Ancient Romans spoke and could read English.
Series Masterlist
Time was of the essence. He had to move quick.
People would say he was a coward, no doubt his legacy would be tarnished, but if he escaped with his life, so be it.
He didn't bother with spare clothes, just an extra set of sandals and food thrown into a satchel before he crept down the dimly lit hallway, careful not to wake one of his many servants.
He loved his palace. It was a place of peace and comfort for him, but come morning, it would be ripped away and he would be thrown into the pit. A general, Rome's deadly sword and the Emperor's right hand man, would become a lowly gladiator. Trained to perform and kill for amusement.
And all because he refused to play the Emperor's sick game.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't help train another legion of young men half his age to fight and die for their vanity. For their greed. When the Emperor announced his new task, all he could think of was his unborn son. He would be of age now, had he lived. He could have been training him to die.
He padded down the stone steps softly, hardly making a sound, his combat training serving him well. He managed to get just outside the city limits while it was still dark, but he could see the glow from the sun breaking the horizon. He didn't have much time to find a place to hide. He was still too close, and no doubt warriors would be looking for him once Geta realized he had fled.
Gods above, if they found him... his fate would be far worse than one of a gladiator.
He stumbled across a small clearing, head twisted around to make sure he was not being followed when he tripped over something large and heavy.
"Oh, shit!" he heard a young male voice exclaim.
Quickly, he unsheathed his sword and aimed it toward the voice. Confusion painted his face when he saw the unusual clothing and utterly strange contraption behind him. Before he had a chance to say anything, leaves rustled and he swung is sword towards the noise. Another young man, similarly dressed to the other, emerged from the thicket.
"State your names. Quick."
"Uh..." the first man trailed off, hands raising slowly in the air. "D-Danny. Daniel. And this is... Victor."
"Dude! C'mon! You know I -"
"Silence!" the general roared as loud as he dared. "What is your business here?"
"Science! Just... experiments. And the like," Danny said hurriedly, glancing at Victor for help. He nodded.
"Yes. Experiments."
"And are you citizens of Rome?"
They paused and looked at one another again.
"We are citizens of... York," Danny said.
"It's new," Victor added.
The general looked back and forth between the two men before ultimately deciding he did not have the time to quarrel with them and they did not appear to be a threat. He dropped his sword to the side and glanced around.
"You did not see me," he said sternly, turning to leave.
"Wait!"
He glanced back over his shoulder, pausing.
"Are you running away?"
"Fleeing," Victor added quietly.
"Fleeing?" Daniel repeated.
"I do not see it fit for you to ask such questions of someone above your station," he snarled. The two men exchanged worried looks before continuing.
"We're leaving. If you're looking to jet, you can... y'know," Danny said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder towards the strange looking contraption.
"Can you get me to Greece?"
They grinned and nodded.
"Sure, dude."
The general glanced around once again, his brow furrowing when he saw the light stretching high into the sky, brightening the landscape and soon, giving his position away.
"Then I accept."
He sheathed his sword and stomped over to the men, startling them both with his intensity.
Victor turned to unlock a door, struggling a bit before it popped open and crawling inside. Danny stuck out a hand and gave him a nervous smile.
"What's your name?"
His eyes dropped down to the frail looking hand before him, then slowly, as if he couldn't decide, lifted his arm to grasp the inside of Daniel's forearm, giving him a vigorous shake.
"General Marcus Acacius."
"What the fuck?" you grumbled under your breath, rereading your brother's text.
Danny: I have a friend crashing on the couch, won't stay long
Shuffling your bag onto your other shoulder as you walked down the bustling city street, you tapped out a response.
You: It better not be Lizard.
Danny: It's not, but he's here 2
Danny: Just visiting
Fucking Lizard. You've known him since he was maybe ten years old and you were fairly certain he never matured past that age.
Given you had two extra people waiting for you in your already cramped apartment, you decided to grab a couple pizzas on the way home instead of the sushi you had been thinking about all day. Choosing to be a little selfish, you made one of them a white pizza, it being your favorite, and made your way home with the last bits of energy you had left.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you walked into that day.
You stopped dead in your tracks when you stepped into your apartment, door wide open behind you, two pizza boxes balancing in one hand as you stared blankly at the massive man standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room. He was dressed in some strange type of robe that fell just above his knee and his head was bent, looking at something on your coffee table.
When you cleared your throat, he swung around and defensively placed a hand at his waist. That was when you noticed the massive and very real looking sword at his side and your blood ran cold.
"D-Danny!" you yelled, your eyes glued to the stranger's hand. As if he finally sensed your fear, he dropped his arm and straightened up.
"Apologies-"
"Danny!" you yelled again, louder this time.
"Yeah? Hey! Sorry," Danny said, hurrying into the room with Lizard following on his heels.
"Oh, pizza? Sweet," Lizard said, reaching for the boxes and brushing past you as if an armed man wasn't standing in the middle of your home.
"Who the hell is this?!" you exclaimed, pointing towards the stranger while glaring at your brother.
"I told you already, he's a friend who's crashing on the couch for a few days," he replied, following Lizard into the kitchen, pizza the only concern at that point.
"My lady," the man began again, "please allow me to explain."
"My lady?" you repeated with a scowl. "I thought you guys stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons after high school."
"That's not -" Danny shook his head with a mouthful of pizza, "this is General Acacius."
"General?" you said quizzically, raising an eyebrow first at Danny, then towards the large man in your living room. "Be serious, Danny."
"He is!"
"I promise, what he says is true," the general chimed in, taking a step closer and stretching out his hand. You sighed and dropped your things onto your table.
"I'm too tired for this, it's been a long week."
The general frowned, hand still outstretched. "Daniel, please explain to your mistress she is not to challenge men above her lover's ranking."
You balked and gagged. "Lover?!"
"Mistress?" Danny said at the same time with a similar look of disgust. "Gross, dude, she's my sister."
Something in the general's face shifted when he learned you were siblings and he looked at you with renewed interest. "Ah, so you do not belong to another?"
You rolled your eyes and grabbed a plate, tossing a piece of white pizza on it before Danny and Lizard ate it all. "I don't have a husband, no. And that's a super sexist thing to say, I don't care if you're role playing or not."
Turning around to exit the kitchen, you were surprised to find the general somehow snuck up on you. Standing just a few feet away, you nearly ran into his strong, broad chest. He lifted a hand to tilt your chin up and whatever biting remark you had locked and loaded died on your tongue. You finally allowed yourself to get a good look at him. Dark, brooding eyes. Thick, brown curls dusted in grey, the color matching his beard. Sharp, angular nose and pouty lips.
Okay, so he was good looking. That didn't negate the weird dress and obvious mental illness.
"Your name?" he murmured softly, finger still hooked under your chin.
You cleared your throat and responded with your name, to which he nodded before dropping his hand. His gaze drifted to your plate and his nose wrinkled. "What is this you are eating?"
"Pizza?" you replied, squeezing up against your counter so you could get past him and get some space. "Help yourself."
"What is pizza?" you heard him ask Danny. You collapsed onto the couch with a groan and took a bite, fully not in the mood for whatever weird shit your brother had going on.
"It's Italian, you'll like it," Danny replied.
The three men trailed in from the kitchen to join you in the living room, your moment of peace and quiet over.
"This appears to be some bastardized version of flatbread," the general said, lifting the piece of pizza and giving it a tentative sniff. "What is this red? Some kind of pepper paste?"
"It's tomato sauce."
"Alright, enough with this bullshit please," you said, but the men ignored you.
You watched as he took a bite and almost instantly spit it out. "This is vile."
"Hey, that's authentic New York City pizza. Nothing vile about it," Lizard said. You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
"General - I'm sorry, I'm not calling you that. What's your real name?"
"That is my real name," he answered, cocking his head at you from the other end of the couch.
"General Marcus Acacius," Danny told you, cursing under his breath when he dropped some cheese on his shirt.
"Okay, Marcus," you began, but he shook his head.
"It is quite inappropriate for you to -"
"I don't give a shit, I'm not calling you General like I'm in the fucking army!"
The room fell quiet as you glared at Marcus, daring him to say another word. When it became evident he wasn't going to, you took a deep breath and continued.
"If you don't like the sauce, there's another pizza in the kitchen without it. Go try that," you said, voice a little softer now. He nodded and rose to go find the white pizza, leaving just the three of you for the first time.
"What the fuck, Danny?!" you whispered angrily. "Why the hell is there a guy in a dress pretending he's a fucking general in my home?"
"He is a general," Danny whispered back. "From Ancient Rome. I'll explain everything later," he said, straightening up when Marcus's footsteps approached.
"This is far better. Thank you, my lady."
"Oh, look at that. You already have something in common," Lizard said with a fake, syrupy voice. "You both love gross pizza."
"Thought you just said authentic New York City pizza can't be gross?" you sneered.
"Boom! She got you, Lizard," Danny laughed. Marcus looked around the room, confused.
"You said your name was Victor, did you not?"
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth with a napkin.
"Lizard's just his nickname. His real name is Victor," Danny explained.
"Yeah. No one calls me Victor. Just like no one calls you Marcus," Lizard explained.
"Only those dearest to me are allowed to use that name," he explained. "Such as a parent or a lover." His eyes flickered up to you quickly before focusing on his pizza once again.
"Does that make you his lover now?" Lizard teased. You kicked a foot out and jabbed him in the hip.
"Shut up," you grumbled.
"Do you not follow the proper steps to obtain a lover in your land?" he asked, genuine curiosity painting his face. "It is much more than simply calling another by a name. If a man were to deem a woman acceptable, he would make an arrangement with her father to wed." He scratched his chin in thought for a moment before adding, "unless, of course, she is a whore."
Lizard and Danny doubled over, howling with laughter while you stared daggers at them both.
"Did I say something to warrant such laughter?" Marcus asked you. You rolled your eyes.
"No, you did not."
"Rule number one, General," Danny said, gasping for air and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Don't call girls whores."
Marcus looked taken aback.
"I meant no offense. A whore is a common profession where I am from. There is no shame in it."
"Alright, can we stop talking about whores?" you asked, exasperated.
"Yeah, good idea. Let's find you some clothes to wear and we'll set up the couch so you can sleep. It folds out, don't worry," Danny told Marcus.
"My tunic should suffice," Marcus said, glancing down at his clothes.
"Uh, not in New York, man. Might stick out a little," Lizard joked, then stood to take his plate back in the kitchen for seconds.
"Depends on what side of town you're on," you mumbled under your breath.
"You can borrow something of mine," Danny said, standing up to go to his room. "You're a little bigger than me but I think I have something that'll work."
You eyed Marcus up over your plate, taking in the finer details of his appearance. "Where are you from? Really?" you asked. He turned to you with a sigh.
"Rome."
"Come on. You can drop the act, they're gone," you said, narrowing your eyes at him.
"I promise, I am telling you the truth," he replied, his gaze boring into you so intensely that it left you spellbound for a moment. "Your brother and his comrade found me on the outskirts of the city with some... contraption. They said they would take me to Greece, however it is clear this is not Greece."
"A contraption?" you repeated nervously. Oh, fuck.
He nodded. "I had never seen anything like it. I do not know what happened but once I entered, there were bright lights and a loud crack and... I must have lost consciousness. I woke in your lounge, utterly confused."
"Shit," you whispered, putting your plate down so you could angrily scrub your face with your hands. Danny, although very irritating and far too dependent on you for basic survival, was incredibly gifted. His intelligence stunned his teachers since he was three years old. He was doing long division at five and became fluent in Spanish at seven. By the time he entered high school, he had grown extremely interested in science, where he met Lizard. For years you had witnessed failed experiments and fireballs in your backyard, but you saw all their successes, as well. Since they were fourteen, Danny and Lizard talked about time travel and you always brushed them off, even when they began to build different devices throughout the years that claimed they were on the verge of a breakthrough, but of course, nothing ever came of it.
Until now.
No, that was crazy. There's no way they actually travelled back in time to Ancient Rome and returned with a Roman general... right?
"Why were you going to Greece?" you asked, tiredly dropping your hands in your lap.
He paused for a moment and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply right when Danny emerged from his bedroom with an armful of different clothing options.
"We'll go shopping tomorrow and find something else that will fit," he said, sheepishly handing over the clothes. Marcus slowly reached out and set them down on the cushion next to him.
"Thank you."
"Hey, I'm gonna take off," Lizard said from the kitchen doorway.
"Yeah, alright. Hey!" Danny said, swiveling around before he left. "You'll be back tomorrow, right? I need your help with the... thing."
You narrowed your eyes in his direction but remained silent. Once Marcus was asleep, you planned on having a very heated conversation with your brother, so you saved that little tidbit for later.
"Yeah, sure thing, man."
You stood to clean up the leftovers while you listened to Danny explain the concept of a pull-out couch to Marcus, then after that, a bathroom. The more time that passed, the more nervous you became. What if this was real? Was it even possible?
Quietly, you stepped out from the kitchen. Marcus was sitting on the edge of the pull out mattress, hands clasped together between his knees as he stared blankly at the floor. For the first time, you felt bad for him. If everything he said was true, he had to have been so confused and scared.
"Hey," you said softly. He lifted his head with a jolt of surprise. "Here's some water," you said, offering him a plastic bottle. He took it and frowned. "You twist the top to open it," you explained, ignoring how ridiculous it felt to tell a grown man how to open a bottle of water.
"Thank you," he replied, setting it down on the floor next to his bed.
"Do you need anything else?"
He shook his head and gave you a small smile. "No, my lady. Thank you for your hospitality."
"You're welcome," you said shyly, inching towards the little hallway that led to your bedroom. "We'll get you back home, Marcus. Don't worry."
He swallowed and smiled again. "Of course."
You smiled back and awkwardly clapped your hands together. "Well, if you need anything at all, just knock on one of our doors."
He nodded and with a sigh, began to peel back the sheets.
"Good night, my lady," he said once your back was turned. You swiveled back around and gave him a little wave, his deep brown eyes looking breathtaking in the evening light.
"Good night."
Flustered, you knocked into the doorframe on your way back to your room. Cursing under your breath and rubbing your shoulder, you slipped behind your door, finally putting an end to your humiliation.
The next morning you sipped your coffee in your kitchen as you replayed the argument you had with Danny the night before once you were sure Marcus was asleep.
"You need to get him back home. Tomorrow, Danny," you had said sternly.
"There might be a slight hiccup with that," he replied, bracing himself for your anger. "The machine needs repairs."
"What the fuck do you mean?!" you seethed as your paced around his cluttered room.
"Don't worry, sis! We can fix it! But we just need a couple days."
"How many days?" you asked with a glare.
Danny shrugged. "Two. Three."
You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.
"A week, tops."
"A week?!"
"Shh! You'll wake him up!" he scolded, pointing angrily towards the door. "Lizard's coming over tomorrow, we'll get working on it right away. Something happened on impact when we returned, I didn't factor in modern day atmospheric pressure originally, but -"
"I don't give a shit what the reason is, you just need to fix it! You have no clue what the ramifications are by keeping him here! You could alter the course of history or something!"
"You watch too many movies," Danny chuckled, but quickly stopped and cleared his throat when he saw the look on your face. "I'll fix it. Promise."
The caffeine hadn't even had a chance to enter your bloodstream before Danny woke and dropped yet another problem onto your lap.
"Do you think you can take him shopping for some clothes today while me and Lizard work on this thing?" he asked as he poured cereal into a bowl.
"So now I'm running errands for you?" you snapped.
"C'mon, don't be like that," he replied as he put the carton of milk back in the fridge. The dynamic between you and your brother was wearing thin. It was always up to you to be the levelheaded one while he just allowed the wind to take him wherever it pleased, completely carefree while you harbored all the stress of basic responsibilities.
"Try to just enjoy the adventure for once," he added before messily scooping cereal into his mouth.
"Yeah, right," you grumbled under your breath before bringing your mug to your lips and taking another sip.
"So, is that a yes?"
"Fine," you said with a roll of your eyes. "If only so I can get away from this apartment and the inevitable chaos those repairs will bring. Just don't piss off my neighbors, okay?"
"Deal."
"Good day," you heard Marcus's deep voice rumble behind you. You jumped and swiveled around, gaze flickering down briefly to take in his borrowed clothes. Danny was right, he needed something that fit.
"Morning, General," Danny said with a grin. "Sleep well?"
"Surprisingly, yes. Even with all the noise outdoors... tell me, is it ever silent here?"
"No," you both said in unison. He nodded and looked down at his tunic, which was crumpled up in his fist.
"Do you have a servant I can give this to for washing?"
"That would be me," you said, stretching out your arm. Marcus hesitated for a moment.
"The lady of the house shouldn't have to perform such arduous tasks."
"I agree, yet here we are," you said, taking the tunic and tossing it over your shoulder. "I have to put in a load, anyway."
You changed your clothes and freshened up while listening to your brother scrape together some type of meal for Marcus that he found acceptable, then pressed the button on your tiny washing machine before heading back into the kitchen.
"Ready?"
Marcus glanced between you and Danny while chewing the last piece of a baguette.
"My sister's gonna take you shopping for some clothes," Danny explained. Marcus looked down at his attire and nodded.
"To the market, then?" he asked you, trailing after you as you tossed your bag over your shoulder and walked down the hallway towards the elevators.
"Something like that."
"I have plenty of denar," he said as you jabbed the call button.
"Denar?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather satchel filled with unfamiliar coins. You grinned and shook your head.
"Don't worry, I got it."
"Please, your hospitality has already been gracious enough," he said, following you into the elevator when it opened.
"If you can find someone who will take that, then be my guest," you said, tapping the lobby button. He was about to say something else when the doors closed and the car violently jolted, startling him.
"What is this?"
"It's an elevator. It lifts us up and down so we don't have to take the stairs."
His jaw hung open in disbelief until the doors slid open to reveal the lobby, then he broke out into a huge smile.
"Incredible."
But once he followed you out onto the busy New York City street, peppered with pedestrians, bicyclists, couriers, and a sea of vehicles, then his eyes practically bugged out of his head.
"I see now where all the noise comes from," he said to you, raising his voice a bit over the commotion as you walked. It was actually endearing to see him experience the city for the first time, something you took for granted every day leaves most people in awe. It was easy to forget that.
"Stick close," you said with a small smile when you saw him tip his head back to gaze up at the towering skyscrapers.
"What is your profession, then?" he asked as he walked by your side. You noticed with envy that others on the sidewalk veered out of his way, his massive shoulders and hulking frame no doubt the reason, instead of brushing past him, like what most do to you every day.
"I write for a fashion magazine."
"Oh, so you're a poet?" he asked, intrigued. You shook your head with a small laugh.
"No. I write about romance in the lifestyle section. I have a column every month on a different topic and I also pick three reader questions to answer and publish on the website every week."
It was clear he hardly understood what you were talking about, so you stopped at the nearest newsstand and grabbed your magazine. After paying, you ushered him over to a bench and sat down while you thumbed through it.
"Ah! Here we go," you said, proudly handing over the magazine and tapping on the corner of the page.
"'Are Soulmates Real'?" he read aloud the title before frowning at you. You nodded.
"Yeah, I talk about the idea of soulmates and how it's putting too much pressure on the modern woman to find this perfect partner when in reality, they don't exist."
"And how do you know this?" he asked, clearly amused.
"I don't, but I wrote from experience," you shrugged.
"So, since you have not found a soulmate, that means they do not exist?"
"No, it's an opinion, Marcus," you explained, "the magazine pays me for my opinion and outlook on things."
He sighed and closed the magazine with a shake of his head. "I am sorry you feel that way."
"Are you saying you believe in soulmates?" you asked.
"Well, I cannot say one way or another from experience, but I like to believe they exist, yes."
"Do you have a wife or family waiting for you back home?" The thought hadn't even occurred to you before now and you felt guilty, but he shook his head.
"My wife died many years ago during childbirth," he said sadly, and your heart plummeted. "She was young and I had just made rank, so her father arranged our marriage in order to ensure a safe and comfortable life for his only daughter." He looked down at the magazine in his hands but he wasn't really reading it. He was too lost in thought.
"She was with child very quickly after we wed. I had not even known her a year by the time she passed, but the time I had with her was enjoyable. I thought very much one day we would learn to love one another," he said, giving you a sad smile. "Was not meant to be."
"I'm so sorry," you said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's horrible... I don't even know what to say."
"It was a long time ago now. I never did remarry, although I had many offers. I became entirely focused on war, fighting to keep Rome and her citizens safe. It is what I was meant to do," he said, exhaling loudly and looking around. "Is this what you feel you are meant to do?" he asked, holding up the magazine. You laughed, grateful for the change of subject.
"No, probably not."
He grinned and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I imagine you are destined for much more, my lady."
"You think so?" you asked, scrunching your nose self-consciously.
He nodded, his gaze drifting over your face solemnly.
"I do."
If elevators impressed Marcus, then the escalators within Bloomingdale's practically floored him. He was so enraptured with them that you had to nudge his shoulder to remind him to step forward before he tripped when you got to the top.
"This is unlike anything I have ever laid my eyes on," he said to you in wonder, his head rolling around on his shoulders as he gazed around at all the lights and signage.
"Yeah, Bloomingdale's is special," you said dreamily. "Sometimes I get to tag along with girls from work to pick out fashion samples for the magazine. It's always so much fun."
You led him over to the men's section and turned to study his broad frame. "You're probably an extra large," you said as you began to sift through the racks, picking out various shirts in different styles and colors and draping them over your arm. He watched you without saying a word, just occasionally feeling the material between his fingertips whenever he saw something that caught his eye. When you got to the pants, you paused and pursed your lips. Glancing around, you spotted a measuring tape left on one of the registers. Grabbing his hand in yours, you dragged him over and shoved the shirts in his arms.
"Here. Hold these while I measure your waist and inseam."
He frowned for a moment but did as you asked, then jumped when you wrapped your arms around his middle with the tape.
"Sorry, it will only take a second," you murmured, ignoring how muscular and firm he felt under your hands. You took note of the number and flushed when it came time to measure his inseam. You chewed on your lip and glanced around, searching for a worker to maybe do it instead, but none were nearby.
"Okay, I'm going to have to measure the length of your leg," you began to explain. "I need to... put my hand close to..." you trailed off and gestured vaguely towards his lap and it finally seemed to click.
"Oh," he said in surprise, glancing down. He cleared his throat and nodded but you could see the pink creeping up his neck.
"I'll be fast," you assured him, "unless you prefer I find someone else."
"No, that is quite alright," he told you, standing tall and tucking his hands behind his back. Glancing around the store once more, you fell to your knees with the measuring tape. You tried not to think about it, tried not to look, but his clothes were too snug as it was and it was right fucking there.
Jesus Christ, you had to get it together. You were not lusting after a time traveling Roman general in the middle of Bloomingdale's. But it was impossible to ignore the impressive looking bulge right at eye level.
"Okay," you said quickly, standing up so fast your head spun. "Got it, let's go."
You hurriedly dropped the measuring tape back on the counter and swiveled around, looking for men's pants while trying to hide how flustered you were. You grabbed a few pairs of jeans and khakis before adding them to Marcus's pile, and avoiding his eye, you pointed over to the corner.
"You can try them on in there."
You waited outside patiently, listening to him struggle with a zipper. You had to draw the line: there was no way you would help him with that. But when he emerged from the dressing room for approval wearing a nice fitting pair of jeans and a white polo shirt, you kind of missed those tight clothes from before. You gave him a smile and thumbs up and he grinned before stepping back into the dressing room. When he turned around and you saw his ass in those jeans, you tilted your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.
Okay, the new clothes weren't so bad, either.
You picked him out two pairs of pants, an assortment of shirts, and paid before going to the intimates floor to grab some underwear, socks, and pajamas. On the way to the men's section, you passed by some mannequins wearing lacy lingerie and robes. Marcus frowned and tugged on your elbow.
"What is that for?"
You glanced in the direction he was pointing and inwardly groaned.
"It's undergarments women wear," you explained, hoping to leave it at that, but he still had questions.
"What is the purpose of the colors if they are under your clothes?"
You sighed and pinched your nose. "It's for sex, okay?" you whispered to him, looking around quickly to make sure nobody could overhear you.
"Sex?" he repeated at full volume. You shushed him, your cheeks flaring with heat, but he just gave you a bewildered look. "Why must I be quiet?"
"We don't talk about sex in public here," you told him, voice still lowered. "It's inappropriate."
"Why on earth not?" he asked, but he kept his voice soft for your benefit as he followed you into the men's section. "Nothing is more natural or beautiful than sex."
"Yeah, well, I don't have all the answers, Marcus."
"And why would a woman drape herself in such garb? A woman's body is a work of art. It is meant to be worshiped and admired just as it is. One would not hang ornaments off a statue of Venus, so why would a woman -"
"I don't know, Marcus!" you said, grabbing a pack of boxers and then a pack of white socks. "Men just like it, I guess."
He scoffed and shook his head but chose not to say anything further when he picked up the agitation in your voice.
You paid for the rest of the clothes and handed him the bag to carry as you led him to the exit. "Are you hungry What do you usually eat around this time of day?"
"It varies. I quite like fish with some bread and cheese."
You thought about it for a moment before your face lit up and you snapped your fingers.
"I have an idea."
Right around the corner from Bloomingdale's was one of your favorite bagel places. You found a table outside and made him sit then hurried inside to order two lox bagels. You almost grabbed Diet Coke but then thought that might kill him, so instead you got two waters and met him back outside in less than ten minutes.
"Try this," was all you said, handing him a warm bagel wrapped in paper and smelling absolutely divine.
Carefully, he peeled the paper away and sniffed the bagel before taking a hesitant bite. You waited, your own bagel untouched, for his reaction. His eyes snapped up to yours and a slow smile spread across his face.
"This is magnificent."
You giggled and tore into the paper covering your own lunch. "I had a feeling you would like it. Fish, bread and cheese."
He nodded and took a bigger bite. "Very wise. Tell me," he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "How has no one asked your father for your hand in marriage? You are bright, strong and beautiful. I am shocked you are not taken."
You decided to let the taken comment go that time and swallowed your food before replying. "Our parents are dead, first of all. But secondly, even if someone was interested in marrying me, they wouldn't need to ask my father. They just ask the woman directly now."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "My apologies. I was unaware of your parents' passing."
"That's okay," you shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Danny was a teenager and I had just graduated high school." You looked up at him, realizing he wouldn't understand what that meant. "I was nineteen. I had to grow up fast and help keep an eye on Danny," you settled on saying, figuring that would sum it up enough.
He nodded and looked down at his food, quietly thinking over what you said. "Has a man ever asked for your hand?" he asked before taking another bite of food.
You laughed. "Uh, no."
"Why is that humorous?"
You sighed and glanced around. "I haven't exactly dated many winners." He cocked an eyebrow at you and you added, "I seem to only attract assholes."
"Ah," he said in understanding. "I am attracted to you. Does this make me an... asshole?"
Your eyelids fluttered and you nearly choked on your water. "W-what?"
"I said, I am attracted -"
"No, I heard you, I just needed a second to process what you said," you told him, feeling your heart beat loudly in your chest. He tilted his head at you curiously.
"Does this surprise you?"
You laughed and fanned the back of your neck nervously. "Um, yes, a little. People don't usually go around just announcing when they're attracted to someone. They're a little more subtle than that."
"Oh. Have I made you uncomfortable? I do apologize," he said, his deep brown eyes softening as he gazed at you across the table.
"It's okay, I just didn't expect it," you chuckled, waving him off and focusing on your food with a stupid smile stretched across your face. He watched you eat for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching as he replayed what you just told him.
"You did not say if you are attracted to me," he said, drawing your attention back up to him. "Is this because you are not, or are you being... subtle?"
You grinned and shook your head. "You have a weird way of flirting."
He smiled back, the creases next to his eyes deepening. "I told you. Where I am from, sex is not something to be ashamed of. It is enjoyable and discussed often. Unless one has devoted themselves to a life of celibacy."
Definitely not, you thought. He let the subject drop as he finished the rest of his lunch and sat back in his chair, looking around at the cars inching by and beeping their horns angrily. You remained quiet for a few minutes, debating on what to say, if you should say anything at all until you finally decided fuck it.
"I'm attracted to you, too."
His head swiveled in your direction and he grinned. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
You giggled in disbelief before you said, "you're welcome."
Something had shifted between you on the walk back to your apartment. It felt so different from just a few hours ago, and it wasn't just the shocking confession over lunch. You had learned a little more about each other, let the other in and shared personal details about your lives, trusting one another with your vulnerability. And for once, you didn't feel raw and exposed. Strangely, it felt like you could trust him. Maybe it was because you knew he would be gone in a few days and it didn't feel like you had much to lose.
However, when you got off the elevator and walked toward your apartment, the sounds of power tools and shouting coming from the other side of the door, Marcus stopped you. He plucked your hand from your side and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing over them gently while maintaining eye contact, the entire moment making your hands tremble and your heart to flutter excitedly in your chest.
"Thank you for today, my lady. I had a lovely time with you."
You smiled shyly at him and looked down at the ground.
"Me, too," you replied softly.
And it was then you realized you very much might have something to lose after all.
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#marcus acacias x reader#marcus acacius fanfiction#marcus acacius x f!reader#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x reader#general marcus acacius#marcus acacius fic#marcus acacius#gladiator 2 fic#gladiator 2#gladiator 2 fanfiction#in another life fic
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gladiator
gladiator!ollie bearman x goddess of victory!reader
w.c.: 1.7k
warnings: slightly graphic descriptions of gore, angst
summary: yet another young gladiator prays to you in your temple
a/n: very unedited + there might be glaring historical inaccuracies :(
picture credits from pinterest :)
he’s young, not unlike all the ones before him. with tousled brown locks that ruffle as he darts along the marble floor, eyes that glow the colour of syrupy ambrosia in the dim flickering of the torches, and perfect muscled body, he reminds you of venus’ adonis in a way. your gleaming statue, wings outstretched, robes flowing, and holding your iconic laurel wreath, gazes upon him knowingly as he hesitantantly approaches your altar at the base of sculpture. your priests barely spare him a glance- they are too busy preparing a new sacrifice that lays neatly on your stone altar- a once-magnificent bull. its mouth is open in a silent scream and its eyes are glossy as the priests collect its crimson blood in a decorated jar and shave off selective portions of its raw flesh to burn as offerings. he watches as the head priest raises his glistening knife, sticky with blood, and brings it down into the bull’s rough hide with a rough thwack, and he thinks he is going to be sick.
still, he falls into a kneel in front of your statue, like a lowly subject in front of an emperor, and like the ones before him, prays for victory.
you sit near the emperor’s viewing box, in a seat only the highest generals could afford. your appearance flickers to those around you- sometimes appearing as a beautiful maiden or a wizened old man. the crowds don’t notice your wavering form, instead focusing all their attention to the sandy center of the amphitheater, where the boy cowers with a silver sword and flat-planed shield, awaiting his opponent. above you, the emperor lounges lazily on a plush couch and inhales grapes from the vine. when he gives a signal- a mere flick of his hand- the gates of the amphitheater rumble open to reveal a snorting bear, prompting the audience to roar in approval. it was obvious- they were here to see blood, and that was what the emperor would give them.
within the first minutes, the beast had already batted away the boy’s flimsy shield and raked his sharp claws against the length of the boy’s leg. rivulets of red, like rubies against his pale skin, flow down from the wound, satiating a fraction of the crowd’s hunger. you can see how he grips his sword tight enough that his knuckles turn white and the fear in his eyes as he tries to limp away from the bear. you can also see the hesitance in his swings that open up deep cuts that flow vermillion along the animal’s hide like the wound on his leg. you help the best that you can. a miscalculated stumble of the bear, a slight push away from the path of the beast’s paw, a guide of the sword towards a critical artery. but, when he finally plunges his bloodied sword into the throat of the exhausted animal, like a knife through butter, it is all his doing. it reminds you of the first fight of another young champion of the past, sebastian, and the roar of the lion that he had fought with a spear. when the animal lies, dying, in its own pool of blood, does the boy finally collapse onto the sandy ground, exhausted in his own sense. before he passes out from blood loss, he raises his head, and it’s like he looks directly at you.
you come to him in the form of a young medici, a bag of bandages, ointments, and herbs in one hand. ollie, is what he says his name is, and he gives you a small smile even as he lay pale and bleeding on the rough cot in the newly assigned private sleeping quarters for victors. he’s prettier up close, even when his brown eyes blink at you hazily and his cheeks are colorless from the lack of blood.
he first opens his mouth to break the silence when you are spreading your magical nector salve on his wounds.
“i’m glad they sent someone as beautiful as you to come patch me up,” he says in a lilting tone, eyes trained on your profile.
you can easily strike him down like you always do with unwanted advances from mortals, but instead, you laugh, a twinkling sound that ollie swears is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.
“you flatter me,” you reply, a rare smile gracing your face.
although you are not aesculapius, the god of medicine, your hands make quick work in firmly wrapping the soft bandage expertly around the openings on his leg. after all, it would be pretty pathetic if a champion with the blessing of the goddess of victory herself didn’t last a full day after his win.
when you are done, you wave your hand subtly over the top of his wounds, willing the greater parts of his pain away. he visibly relaxes, like a weight had lifted from his shoulders.
his eyes track you silently as you throw your materials back into your brown medici bag. it triggers the memory of a certain eerily quiet champion you had blessed before- kimi- whose bright blue eyes you can remember skittering across your figure when you had bandaged his wounds.
when you are done packing up your bag, you tread lightly to the door. before you can pull it open, ollie calls out to you.
“wait,” he says, voice pleading.
you hesitate, but turn back to him, your tunic swishing.
ollie looks at you with wide eyes, as if he didn’t believe that he had spoken out loud.
“can you- can you stay for a bit?” he asks apprehensively.
there are a million things to tend to, like overseeing minor battles, ensuring triumph in campaigns, and granting the prayers of the mortals that knelt in your temples, but you can’t help but concede to his request.
you neglect your duties for far too long in the damp room with ollie. it was laughable in a way, to see the great goddess of victory pliant under the wiles of a young mortal.
he talks about his parents, about his younger brother, and his little sister, and about how he dragged away one fateful evening from his family to become a gladiator, unlike the multitude of other bloodthirsty gladiators from rich families that wanted fame and fortune. but, when he comes to the topic of his actions in the arena, he suddenly goes still.
“i didn’t want to kill it, you know,” he whispers quietly, as if he didn’t want to admit it.
his bottom lip quivers, and it is now that you are reminded how young he really is. it is a reminder of another victor that you had championed, charles, and his unwillingness to kill, even as a successful gladiator. like charles, big fat tears slip from the corners of his eyes when he thinks back to the poor creature, most likely chained and beaten, being made a spectacle, and dying by the hands of another for entertainment. however, you knew they always toughened up after awhile- they always did. so, you brush a comforting hand through his curls, kiss him gently on the forehead, and it’s only when he falls into a deep sleep do you finally leave the room.
you see him again several days later, this time in the great roman amphitheater again. again, he stands with his flat-planed shield and silver sword in the dusty middle of the arena. a look of fierce intensity flashes across his helmeted features, unlike the last time he was in this position, making him look significantly more willing to slay whatever beast steps in his path.
however, when the emperor waves his hands, commanding the gates to rumble open, and the crowd thunders in excitement, what steps out is a familiar man with thick black hair that seems to sway perfectly in the breeze, a hint of stubble, and pouty pink lips that you knew all too well. carlos, you remember his name was. you remember too, the way he had knelt down in your temple all those years before like ollie had. he had made an offering of three silver coins- all that money he had- and begged for you to protect him in the arena. true to your word, you gave him your divine protection until he became the emperor’s champion gladiator, personally favored by the elite and the crowd.
carlos makes the first move, taking advantage of ollie’s barely healed leg. his weapon of choice, an engraved dagger, hacks a deep line of red as it carves from the tip of ollie’s right shoulder to his hip. at the sight of the excess bright liquid cascading down the younger boy’s body, the crowd erupts in a frenzy. when ollie collapses, unmoving, on the ground, they seem to chant carlos’ name- our champion, our champion, they scream. it seems like ollie is just another easy opponent, another nobody that would ultimately make their way onto the carlos’ lengthy list of the vanquished. carlos turns away from ollie to face the crowd, a smile on his lips and arms open, embracing the crowd. he has not lost once for a year, so what makes it seem like he would lose now?
that’s what makes it all-too-surprising when ollie pushes himself up with god-given strength and hacks down on carlos’ neck as hard as he can, with his sword. it lands with a wet thwack the way the priest’s knife did in the bull back in your temple before.
when ollie is paraded through the town, a victor’s laurel wreath atop his pretty head, the crowds that once shouted carlos’ name now screams ollie’s, crowning him as victor. neverending bottles of wine, cornucopias overfilling with food, and precious jewelery are thrust into his arms from every direction. you know it feels good to be loved by the people. it’s a pity, because you know ultimately, your divine interventions would draw the attention of the three parcae who controlled peoples’ fate. the fate of a gladiator was to die; they always did. it was proven with all the past gladiators you championed- the brave sebastian, quiet kimi, kind-hearted charles, and now, the resilient carlos. it was all a matter of time before they would take ollie. even worse, the crowd would probably move on just as quickly like they did with carlos. so, for now, you watch as he smiles his dimpled smile and let him bask in the glory of being victorious.
#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 rpf fic#f1 imagine#ollie bearman x female reader#ollie bearman x y/n#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x reader#ob87 x reader#📝
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Reunion of love
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader Word Count: 1335 warnings: a little smut Pedro Pascal Masterlist
The night was calm, a rare blessing amidst the chaos of war. The air carried the gentle hum of cicadas and the faint, fragrant aroma of blooming jasmine. The garden, bathed in moonlight, glowed with an ethereal radiance. Amidst the neatly trimmed hedges and the scattered marble statues, Y/N lingered in quiet contemplation, her thoughts a mix of longing and relief.
General Marcus Acacius, her husband, had been away for months, leading the legions of Rome in battle. News of his victories had reached her weeks ago, yet the uncertainty of war always lingered in her heart. Tonight, however, there was a strange anticipation in the air, a tug in her spirit that refused to let her retire to their chambers.
She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and gazed at the night sky, the constellations shining like scattered diamonds. A soft rustle came from the shadows behind her. Y/N turned sharply, her heart skipping a beat.
“Who goes there?” she called, her voice steady but wary.
From the shadows emerged a figure she would recognize anywhere. Marcus stood tall, his armor glinting faintly in the moonlight, his face rugged and worn yet undeniably handsome. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and the shadow of a beard framed his chiseled jawline. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had faced death and emerged victorious, but his eyes softened the moment they met hers.
“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
Y/N’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then, as the realization sank in, she rushed toward him, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. Marcus opened his arms, and she threw herself into his embrace, the weight of months of separation dissolving in an instant.
“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “You’re home.”
“I am,” he murmured, holding her tightly. “And I intend never to leave your side again, not unless duty demands it.”
She pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest. “You’re safe?” Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of injury.
“I am,” he assured her. “The gods have seen fit to bring me back to you in one piece.”
Y/N smiled, though tears glistened in her eyes. “The gods must favor me, then.”
Marcus cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “No, my love. They favor me, for they have given me you.”
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the warmth of his hands. When she opened them, her smile had deepened, and her voice was playful. “You should have sent word of your arrival. I would have prepared a feast fit for the victor of Rome.”
“And miss the chance to surprise you?” he teased. “Never.”
He bent his head and kissed her, a kiss that spoke of longing, love, and promises unspoken. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them under the watchful gaze of the stars.
When they finally parted, Y/N took his hand and led him to a stone bench near the fountain. They sat together, the cool night air wrapping around them like a gentle embrace.
“Tell me,” she said softly. “Tell me everything. How was the campaign? How do you fare?”
Marcus hesitated for a moment, then began to speak. He recounted the battles he had fought, the strategies that had brought victory, and the lives lost along the way. His voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words, a heaviness that spoke of the toll war had taken on him.
Y/N listened intently, her hand never leaving his. When he finished, she squeezed his hand and said, “You carry the burden of Rome, but you need not carry it alone. You have me, Marcus. Always.”
He looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I know,” he said. “And it is your love that gives me strength.”
They sat in silence for a while, the sound of the fountain mingling with the whispers of the night. Then, Marcus stood and held out his hand.
“Come,” he said. “Let us not waste this night. I have been away from you for far too long.”
Y/N took his hand, her heart fluttering. He led her through the garden, their footsteps light on the cobblestone paths. They paused by a marble pavilion, its columns entwined with ivy. There, under the canopy of the heavens, Marcus pulled her into his arms once more.
“I dreamt of this moment,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Of holding you, of hearing your voice, of seeing your smile. The battlefield is no place for dreams, but you were my constant solace.”
Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her touch tender. “And you were mine,” she replied. “Every day, I prayed for your safe return. Now that you’re here, it feels as if the world has righted itself.”
They shared another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, a melding of souls that spoke of their unbreakable bond. His hands roamed her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The intensity of the moment made her gasp softly against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue exploring hers with a hunger born of months of yearning.
“Marcus,” she whispered when they finally broke apart, her cheeks flushed and her breath shallow. “Take me somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”
He needed no further invitation. Without a word, he swept her into his arms, carrying her through the garden toward their chambers. Her laughter, soft and melodic, mingled with the rustle of leaves as he quickened his pace.
Once inside, the door closed behind them with a quiet thud, sealing them in a world of their own. Marcus set her down gently, his eyes roaming her form with a gaze so heated it made her shiver. He began to unfasten his armor, the clang of metal filling the room as piece by piece fell away, revealing the powerful physique beneath. His scars told stories of battles fought, but to Y/N, they only made him more captivating.
She stepped closer, her hands moving to help him, her fingers brushing against his skin. “You’re more beautiful than I remember,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
He caught her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “And you, my love, have haunted my every thought.”
Their movements became slower, more deliberate, as they undressed each other. Each touch, each kiss, was a rediscovery, a celebration of their love. When they finally came together, it was with an intensity that left no room for doubt or hesitation. His hands explored her curves reverently, his lips worshipping every inch of her skin. She responded in kind, her touch igniting flames wherever it lingered, her whispered declarations of love weaving into the heady atmosphere of their union.
They moved together in perfect harmony, a dance as old as time, their passion building to a crescendo that left them both trembling. Marcus held her tightly as they reached the peak of their love, his whispered praises and endearments filling her ears.
When the storm finally subsided, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating as one. Marcus brushed a strand of hair from her face and gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart ache.
“You are my everything, Y/N,” he murmured. “My reason for fighting, my reason for living. I am nothing without you.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she cupped his cheek. “And you are mine, Marcus. You’ve always been mine.”
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, they remained entwined, their love a sanctuary against the trials of the world. For this moment, they were free, and nothing else mattered but the bond they shared.
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