That saxophone is still playing??
⋆˚࿔ Romantic things DC men do that they don’t even realise (fluff headcanons) Part 2!
- Characters (separately): Conner Kent, Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Roy Harper, Hal Jordan
- CW: Suggestive in mostly just Hal's bit, possibly OOC, Oliver's part is a little long, proofread once (I think that's it)
- This is so scary...anyway this is the request :P
- This is part 1
Conner Kent
Constantly showing you off:
Conner's self-confident grin shines as he brags "Yeah, that's my partner, right here!" He extends his phone out that had a picture of you, smiling in front of a corn maze. The simper was mildly awkward; but to Conner, that was still his lover regardless!
“And then—” he wraps his arm around Tim’s neck before scrolling through the album once more, “that’s when we went to a ballet and they wanted to get dressed, aren’t they hot?!” He smiles radiantly to Tim.
To appease his friend, Tim nods, “yup!” With no further comment, only to have his chest shoved.
“Hey, back off! That’s MY hot partner, go get your own!” He scowls with little effect or impact as his goofy grin returns as he proceeds to continue scrolling through the album on his phone exclusively containing images of you.
A small moment passes when he lands on a picture of the both of you; he admires the real toothy grin you sport and he’s also in the picture mirroring your smile. The imprint of the smacked lipstick mark on his cheek evidently matched your own lips in the picture with the colour having barely smudged against your lip line.
With a subtle upward turn in his lips, he tapped the heart icon to put it in his favourites; he’s happy to keep that one to himself, rather than show off in this gathering…
Oliver Queen
Always helping out:
"Honey, seriously I can handle it!" you huff when the bill comes over for the dinner.
You don’t usually pay for meals when it comes to the dynamic between you and your husband, but you just got a raise at work and you’re on cloud nine! Might as well, right?
Immediately when you start counting your money, your darling husband petulantly pouts and looks at the waiter. “My spouse wants to pay…unbelievable! I’m the billionaire philanthropist and ex-playboy yet they’re telling me they want to pay!” He vents to the waiter.
...
As you both walk out of the restaurant, Ollie’s hand plants itself on your waist, “I still could’ve paid, y’know that?” He pouts, though the childishness is dampened because of the proud presence of his facial hair, much to his relief.
“I know you can, but I just wanted to do it today.” You pat his chest.
Oliver simply scoffs, it’s certainly clear he wants to go home...with a plan!
...
You’re both laying in bed, the plush engulfs the both of you as the calmness is embedded within the air, Oliver has been deciding on a movie to watch for the past 10 minutes and you couldn’t care less anymore.
The buzz of your phone vibrates against the bedside table and sluggishly you claw for it. It’s an email? From your university...?
Dear (Full name)-Queen, Thank you for the transaction made toward the master's degree programme for our School of (___)
You blinked. Twice. Thrice.
"Uhhh...Ollie, I got a weird message?"
"Hm?" he hums absently
”Remember when I wanted to apply to that good college for my masters? Well I didn’t but apparently I just received a receipt for it and an acceptance letter—” you were cut off by your own husband
“Oh yeah, I paid for it,” he attempted to remain neutral, to maintain a semblance of stoicism but his own excitement peeked through in the form of a grin. "It was pretty easy and you had the stuff already filled out on your account, I just submitted it when you were in the bathroom earlier. Surprised they let you in so quick."
Staring at him pointedly, to test if he’s lying, you see nothing to indicate it on his face.
You pounce on him and kiss his face with the air filling with the smack of your lips scattering. “You—why?!”
“You paid for dinner, I might as well help you back, right?”
With a serene laugh, you comment “you’re crazy..”
“Crazy for you!” he smirks, staring at you smugly.
“ew…”
Barry Allen
Explaining things without mansplaining:
You watched as Barry stood in front of the standing board, he plotted out structural models of chemicals. Hell, you don't even know what he's trying to figure out as he stares into the diagram.
"Whatcha doing, babe?" You ask, sitting on the couch and just looking at the back of his lean body in that red shirt.
"I'm trying to figure out some way to make DNA profiling easier in forensics..."
The back of your neck heated in mild self imposed embarrassment as you just didn’t understand him, “Uh huh, totally. I hate when the DNA profiles so stupid…”
Barry chuckles and finally glances away from the glossy white board into the similarly glossy whites of your eyes before laying focus onto your pupils.
“Just seeing if there’s a possible chemical I could use or—hell, if it’s possible to manipulate an existing compound cheaply for forensics…”
You nod slightly and tilt your head curiously, he continues, “There’s a whole lot of things I could do here to approach this situation. The issues just money, y’know?”
This was certainly a change of pace. A guy not talking to you like you were two years old? It’s awesome!
"And it'll be so fun if we can get some good results! It'll make the DNA profiling process take less steps and be more concise—woo the rush!"
Roy Harper
Gentlemanly gestures without even realising:
Roy had no problem whatsoever being a gentleman. Half the time he doesn’t even realise it.
As you both enter the small cafe, the waft of specialty coffee and caramel curling comfortably against you, Roy had trained behind you after opening the door.
A heavy hand rests on your back as he guides you inside “cozy, huh?”
“yeah, it looks so cute.”
Roy takes his opportunity to be mildly trying “You look so cute.” He smirks while poking your side, making you jolt.
“you suck..”
“cmon, go find a seat—I’ll go order your coffee”
He leaves you be to choose a place, and as you shuffle the chair out and settle down, you can hear Roy speaking to the barista behind the counter—it’s not that difficult, the place is compact anyway!
“Can I get a regular black coffee? And can I get a..”
He pauses to recall which you would’ve been offended by if he hadn’t snapped back and stated your ideal order, including the sandwich you get as you would usually text him.
You smirk ever so slightly when he comes walking back after a couple minutes with both cups.
The paper cups releases dual knocks as they settle upon the small, two person table; you reached for the cup, took it and drank it, sighing as you relish in the familiar taste of your preferred drink.
Roy smirks at your relaxation and takes your hand, allowing your fingers to rest on the side of his palm. He leans down and places a kiss on your knuckles, and you let out a quiet huff of amusement.
You had grown used to these gestures, that doesn’t mean you’re ever gonna get tired of them!
Hal Jordan
Fixing things around the house:
“Damn it!” You yell out in a surge of frustration, making Hal turn to your direction from outside of the bathroom.
Hal’s steps are rushed, he isn’t sure what to expect from that surge of frustration that sounded from you. As he’s finally caught in the doorway, the sight is comical: you in a bathrobe, turning the sink in and off sporadically with no water coming out.
That’s how you now have Hal in his green lantern suit, laying back on the floor of your shared bathroom.
“Sweetie, we have a tool box in the garage”
“Yes but are those tools 100% adjustable?” He dopily grins, expanding and shrinking the glowing green wrench as he retreated back under the sink.
You leaned against the sink, with your feet planted between his legs, tired and bleary. The haze of thoughts was interrupted though by a wolf whistle from under the sink, the angle perfect for Hal to gawk.
“Nice legs, hon! And nice bush you got under that robe—”
You flushed and your face burnt up as you jabbed your foot into his thigh, scampering away to the shared bedroom, “Aw cmon! I like a bit of hair (Name)!” He calls teasingly
dividers by @cursed-carmine
This never stops getting scary
Always Have Been. Always Will Be.
synopsis: an old photo album of yours is found in the attic, and you’re reminded of how much you’re loved in the family. requested by anon!
warnings: drinking mentioned (taking shots). fluff
pairings: batfamily x batmom!reader
dividers by: @/cafekitsune
Dick was the one who found the photo album. He, Jason, Cass, Tim, Duke and Damian were tidying the attic. A punishment given by Alfred, and approved by you. It was for a mixture of being careless on patrol, sneaking out when banned from patrol the night after, and a build up of disobedience.
The only reason Bruce wasn’t up there with them right now, was because he claimed he had “important work” to finish, but you promised the children that Bruce would join them shortly. Plus, Alfred remarked that the Christmas decorations needed to be found up there anyway.
Dick pulled the album out of an old box, and opened the cover to be met with a photo he had to blink twice to figure out properly.
It was very obviously you in the photo, but much younger. You looked like you were college age, standing with a group of girls that were clearly your friends, judging by the arms around each other.
After flicking through a few more pages, Dick held it out and called, “hey look, it’s all old photos of mom.”
Damian’s head appeared from above the small wall of junk he had built while searching through the different piles. He made his way to Dicks side, stepping over whatever Tim or Jason had carelessly tossed over their shoulders. “Let me see.” He demanded, before humming a little as Dick lowered his hands.
Cass had appeared at the other side of Dick, also interested in the pictures of her mother. Duke had also made his way over, equally as interested. Jason shrugged, deciding that it was definitely better than continuing to clean and walked over. Tim was also interested, wanting to see any picture that he wouldn’t have seen when he was doing his previous research.
When they properly turned each page of the album, they found that the pictures started when you were a baby. There was a picture of you, small with chubby cheeks blowing spit on a birthday cake with a big ‘1’ decoration on it.
A couple of pages later, there was a picture of you, a couple of years older. You had hair that was just past your shoulders, flashing small teeth in a smile with one missing in the front. There was a small note underneath the picture that said “First day of school.”
First school play. Graduating elementary. First day of middle school. First day of high school. Prom, homecoming, and you with your diploma. You throughout different years crouched by a Christmas tree or you with different costumes through the years on Halloween.
That was the first half of the album.
Dick flipped the second half, when you had started college and most of the pictures were now taken by you or your friends, rather than your parents. They varied from different locations, from parties to your dorm room.
In one picture, you’re taking a shot with one of your friends, the clock in the background showing that it was 2:30AM. “And she tells me not to stay out too late.” Jason rolled his eyes, but had no real bite to his words. “She was cool.” Duke said, his voice laced with awe.
When Bruce made his way up the ladder to the attic, the album was open on a page that showed a picture of you getting ready for some event. You had rollers in your hair, and a bathrobe on as you beamed at the camera. The lighting made your eyes sparkle and your smile shine. There was a different look of happiness that the children hadn’t seen on your face. You looked much more carefree, and you had the look of someone that could never fathom the horrors the world had to offer you. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy now, it was just clearly different back then.
“What are you all crowded around?” Bruce asked them, making each of their heads fly up to notice him.
“A photo album of Mom.” Tim answered him before swiftly turning back to the photo album.
When Bruce cast his eye on the photos of you, he didn’t look surprised. A small, easy smile appeared on his face. Cass reached out to flip a couple of more pages, and they reached the section where you had clearly just started your relationship with Bruce.
The picture was the two of you in a kitchen that looked very different from the one in the Manor. Even though it was barely seen in the background, it was clearly smaller, with much simpler looking furniture. You were both dressed in pyjamas, the morning light coming knocking through the window in the background.
The camera was held in your hands, just the upper half of your bodies shown. You were making a face at the camera while Bruce wasn’t even looking at it. His eyes were closed, his lips pressed to your cheek as he stood behind you. Bruce looked younger too. He had some lines on his face, and there were a couple of scratches on his shoulder from presumably the previous night as Batman. But still, younger.
Bruce’s fingers reached out, eager to see more pictures of the two of you from the past. That’s when they heard somebody else enter the attic.
“Are you all doing alright up here?” Your voice was heard before you found them huddled around something in the middle.
“Grayson found an album of you.” Damian answered, already taking a step towards you as you joined their huddle.
You smiled upon seeing the different pictures of you when you were younger. There was a picture of you when you first appeared at a gala with Bruce. Your face was smoother back then, the crease between your brow not yet there. you weren’t yet aged with the stress of having a husband who likes to throw himself into danger every night, and six children who did the exact same.
“I was fairly pretty back then.” You said, “Been a while since that was a relevant fact, though.”
Bruce’s head immediately turned to yours at your words, his mouth opening. But a couple of people got there before him.
There was a chorus of outraged sounds, shouts of confusion and overlapping voices of siblings that don’t know how to speak in turn.
“Absolute nonsense.” The smallest boy at your side said, shaking his head. Damian was acting as if you had gotten a simple question wrong on a test. “You were beautiful then and equally beautiful now.”
“Exactly.” Tim nodded. “You’re gorgeous, mom. The amount of camera flashes when we’re forced to galas should prove it.”
Cass had slid herself close beside you, so that your arm subconsciously went around her. She shook her head at you too, before saying quietly, “very pretty.”
Dick looked downright horrified at your words. “How could you even think that?” He said. “Mom, you’re literally inspiration for like, five different clothing brands.”
“You’re stunning.” Duke declared. “In all these pictures you are. And you are now.”
Jason also tutted. He looked pained to agree with all of his siblings, but he had no choice. “Saying nonsense.” He muttered. “You’re beautiful, ma, always have been and always will be.”
You were silent for a moment before you smiled. “Thank you.” You said, a little sheepish. You pressed a kiss to the top of Cass’ head and ruffled Tim’s hair. “You know how to make me feel special, anyway.”
They continued fussing over you before you eventually reminded them to return to their ‘punishment’.
Later that evening, Bruce found you in your shared en-suite bathroom, washing your face before bed.
He stared at you for a moment, letting that indescribable feeling settle in his body again. Even after years of marriage, gentleness is still unfamiliar to him. He would’ve stayed there for hours if you hadn’t noticed him.
You caught his eye in the mirror before turning to him, “you okay?”
Bruce just nodded before walking the few steps to put his arms around you. “i’m okay.”
and that was enough.
“they’re weren’t lying earlier, you know.” he mumbled into your hair. “when they said you were still beautiful. you are. you’ve always been.”
You smiled against his shoulder. “thank you.”
And Bruce took every opportunity he could to remind you of it. because it wasn’t just your face that Bruce found beautiful, it was everything.
How you loved and cared for his children, how you put up with him and his late nights for years, how you cry and laugh at movies and books, how you treat Alfred with kindness and respect, how you were able to bring in so much love into his life when he thought it wasn’t possible, how you held him even when he couldn’t admit he wanted to be held.
Bruce Wayne might be the best detective in the world, but he’ll never figure out how you didn’t see how gorgeous you are.
YESSSSSSS FINALLY MY GOAT
HANDSY
part of my gestures of affection series
It doesn't matter where you are, whether aboard the League watchtower or attending some swanky gala, Oliver loves to be touching you.
He cares little for the judgmental glances, waves off the discomfort he might cause others at the public displays of affection, and if anything, it only prompts him to be bolder with his actions.
Hand holding is the norm, his fingers interlaced with yours, thumb tenderly stroking the back of your knuckles. Tame, cute, palatable.
A hand on your knee beneath the table, slowly working its way higher than is strictly publicly acceptable during a League debrief, is to be expected.
Clark's terrible poker face lets everyone know when Ollie's getting handsy, the pink in his cheeks as his eyes suddenly settle anywhere else a pretty clear indicator.
It's almost like he gets off on it, grin painting his face as disgusted groans and jokes fill the room.
His worst offence, though, is the obsession he seems to have with your ass. More specifically, grabbing a handful of it at every opportunity available.
The best way for him to go about it? Hugs.
A long embrace after days spent apart? Oliver would burrow his face into your neck, inhaling deeply as his hands drifted to your ass, squeezing like you were his own personal stressball.
A goodbye hug in the morning as you leave for work? Same thing, his hands kneading your flesh as if trying to entice you back into bed.
Ollie didn't care if there was an audience or not; it was as if your ass was a magnet, and his hands were powerless but to heed the magnetic pull.
Such as now, in the middle of the watchtower docking bay, where he leans into you, hands resting on your ass as poor Shazam suddenly looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Oliver," you sigh, leaning back enough to look him in the eye, your arms loosely locked around his neck, "you're grabbing my ass."
"I know."
"Are you going to let go anytime soon?"
"No." He grins before pulling you into a kiss that makes Shazam squeak and whirl around.
Yeah, you didn't think so.
— Impromptu Sleepover
Pairing: Dick Grayson x gn! reader
Summary: there's only one bed...
Word Count: 844
Content/CW -> bed sharing, reader is a Titan, stakeout
— this is part of my 7k sleepover event! thanks for participating <3
Cooked and fed us good as always 😋✌️
One Kiss Shouldn't Hurt
⋆˚꩜｡ Dinah Lance/Black Canary x reader (fluff + suggestive)
- You two are friends with feelings bubbling up and they finally show properly while you both spar.
- CW: suggestive and flirty, it's insinuated that reader is AFAB but I tried to keep it gender neutral, mild violence (?), possibly OOC since I only read a few things with Black Canary in it, insane sexual tension, BARELY PROOFREAD AND IM HALF ASLEEP DON'T HATE MEEEE
- Based on this request (It's about time I do another fem character x reader fic)
You and Dinah had a...questionable relationship.
Dating different people was on the table, however you both held resentment for the others partner—whenever the other did have a partner. However, today is a good day for the both of you as you're both single at the same time!
You both told yourselves, not to each other, that you're not into each other and that you both wouldn't go after each other in pursuing a relationship.
So as only friends who definitely don't have feelings for each other, you decided to participate in a normal day of training.
She watched as you stretched your body; hands up to the sky, then behind you in a way that your back arched as they clenched together to extend to be adjacent to your upper thighs and the lower glutes.
You both don't know why, but flirting and teases come so unbelievably easy. She walks past you, a hand tracing along your back, "Ready to spar?" She asks, her voice making way for teasing.
The scoreboard was tied, a perfect image of tension that literally mirrored the evident tension present between the two of you as well. You had her hands behind her back, pinning her down and grinning. To tease her, you pry the blonde hair away from her neck, teasingly pecking the skin there, "I think I win this."
My god you were too naïve and cocky because in a flash you were flipped onto your back, looking up at your friend with a short gasp of surprise. Now she was smirking down, and you could feel the firmness of her thighs, clenching against your waist.
"You were saying...?" she taunted, but you couldn't help indulge in your impulsive thoughts.
You wanted to kiss her, it's as simple as that. You want to feel her against you. A kiss wouldn't hurt...
Sitting up, you put your hands on her shoulders that tense in anticipation upon the reasonable assumption of you countering her. She, however, didn't anticipate being pulled into a hesitant yet paradoxically firm kiss.
The softest lips you had ever felt, that's the easiest way to sum up the feeling of kissing Dinah. But in her bewilderment she didn't kiss back.
She jerked away from your lips, her expression startled. You follow her in pulling away, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Dinah. I just thought that there was something between us—oh my lord—" your panic is paused and interrupted by your 'friend' shushing you, her mildly calloused fingers from years of fighting brought forward to press against your lips which are snapped shut.
She murmurs and slowly draws herself forward "I just don't like being rushed, sweetie..." the teasing persisted in her voice.
When your lips connected again, turns out a single—or in this case, second—kiss wouldn't hurt. You knew every aspect of each others lives, how was it that you both knew how to kiss in such a way that makes both of your brains fog up despite not having done it until today?
Your lips moved against the other and a rhythm had been established within the first few moments, you could feel the stickiness of both your lip products mix together, cushioning the kiss. You let out the tiniest squeak at her hands resting on your chest, she chuckles against your lips before continuing the kiss.
Out of need for breath, you both finally detangle yourselves from each other, flushed and warm and huffing. "So, that was fun!" You comment, so astounded you had to let out a chuckle of your own.
"Mhm. How about we continue this at my place? It's been a while since we had a slumber party, right?" she advances, her gaze deep, making you certain that she wants more than a slumber party.
Wow, a single kiss really did not hurt...
dividers by @cursed-carmine
froggi's 7k slumber party <3
pack your pillows & pjs, it’s time for a sleepover!! choose an activity below, choose your fave & send them in!
only one character per prompt! it's first come, first serve but i promise all of them will be very fun and comfy <3 open to all the characters i write for (+ booster, steph & cass)!
& thank you everyone again for 7.7k, even typing that feels surreal :,) i love you all so much mwah
(in case we get an over-abundance of one person, i'll only do a max of 3-4 per character!)
AHHH IM SO EXCITED
Cue the Saxophone, I Guess?
⋆˚࿔ Romantic things DC men do that they don’t even realise (fluff headcanons)
200 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!!!! (from my poll :p)
- Characters (separately): Wally West, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Kyle Rayner and Dick Grayson
- CW: poor writing, suggestive, short Kyle section, I tried to write a gn reader but I didn't proofread so just know it's meant to be a gender neutral reader
- THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING HCS GUYS PLEASE BE NICE (also am I supposed to be adding this many tags omg)
- Part 2 is here
Wally West:
Immediately volunteer to run errands for you.
Three raps on your door made your head whip up, yet it was so obviously your boyfriend. How? Well the spare key jingles and he calls out while opening the door "Guess who?!" with a continuously mirthful voice that you can hardly muster yourself on most days.
He opens the door regardless and your met with the sight of him and his happy, dopey little grin as you peer down at his hands: one of those reusable grocery bags and a whole thing of detergent in it, the orange and blue standing out against the woven shopping bag as it pokes out of the top of the bag.
Walking over to him, you can't help but just slightly tilt your head, smiling, "Can I ask why?"
"Why? Oh—well when we were calling this morning and you were doing your laundry you mentioned how you ran out of detergent but still had a bunch of softener and all," he then triumphantly holds up the bag like a prize, "so I got you detergent!"
He then pauses and stares at you, "Y'know what? Just sit down." He mildly commands and nudges you to your own couch as you stand in justified confusion from the snapped change in topic. He continues "Sit down, I'll do your laundry and I'm not having my partner be annoyed by separating white and coloured clothes...in fact I'll go do that and then save the best for last!"
"Which is?"
"Washing your panties?"
Trying to feign disgust you scrunch your face "You're disgusting."
"I love you!" he shoots straight to your heart
"Yeah, I love you too..."
Jason Todd:
Randomly recommends things he thinks you'll like
"Hey." he beckons to you, waving a book in the air when you walk into the shared apartment. His gaze remains mildly bored as he placed the book on the kitchenette island, sliding it to the side where you would end upstanding in front of.
Wearily, you place a hand on top of the book, nodding to him, "what's this?"
"Old book. I'm sure you'll like it." He say's casually, looking back down at his own book and he speaks idly, "It's got the stuff you love, just trust me on it."
Peering below you, you read the title, "'Pride and Prejudice'? What's it about?" you walk around the counter and now stood next to him, leaning over the table, hip pressed against the cold.
Jason just barely smirks, "Smart girl and heart throb that would've have a 19th century girl swooning. Seems like your style, babe." He grins and—almost naturally—rests his heavy hand on your lower back, "It's honestly one of my favorites, really great story..."
"You love telling me what to watch and read, Jason."
"Because I know what you love. Have you ever hated something I recommended you?" he asks, drumming his fingers on your waist without a coherent rhythm.
Speechless and pursing your lips to muster an answer, you couldn't help it, you did like the stuff he recommended, "Whatever, I'll go read." Exasperation sprinkled through your voice, yet a tad bit of excitement.
If Jason recommends it, it's definitely something you'll like.
Bruce Wayne:
Uses you as an excuse (Not in a demeaning way)
"No I'm sorry I can't attend—"
You enter his home office, holding your laptop in preparation to do your own work. However, you see the little twinkle in his eye.
It's the same twinkle that comes up when he cracks a case on an investigation, "I can't attend because my spouse and I have a...doctors appointment!"
You raise a brow and shoot a barely judgemental look towards him, and you watch as his lips purse into a silent flounder, checking his options of what to say, "They have the plague—or something plague adjacent. Yes, yes...bye bye now." and the sigh he lets out in relief.
You can't help but laugh at the display "You're so phoney, Bruce" you declare half-heartedly.
"Welcome to the lifestyle of a retired playboy billionaire. You learn how to be phony."
A grin draws itself onto yours and Bruce’s faces, parallels in your expressions as he gets to his feet.
“Unfortunately I have patrol. However, Dick and his friend want to eventually take over themselves. So…can I cash in that fake doctors appointment then?”
You smirk at the mild formality that remains even as he jokes, and reply "Any time, honey."
A smirk that stretches at his lip line then appears as he steps over in your direction, like some big magnet "...How about a preview?" He proposes with his hands resting on your waist, rubbing up and down to test between the curve from below your chest to your torso, then hips.
Yeah, maybe this isn't just a preview...
Kyle Rayner:
Doodling you
Sitting in the headquarter of the justice league, you fidget with a crappy old handheld game system that had been there for years, with your boyfriend across from you in a comfortable silence, relishing in the fact you both have no missions for the day...at least after that mission that had you both lazing back in a place where you probably shouldn't be.
Kyle pipes up, "Hey how should I draw your hair? How it normally is? Or in that way you like to style it?" then peering up at your curiously.
You barely glance at him, your focus still on the little handheld console, punching in buttons that appear on the adviced combos on the side, "Normal hair, I think it looks good right now."
Before you could even finish your sentence his pen was already scratching at the slightly thick parchment of his sketchbook, "Got it, I already drew you in your different hair styles the other day anyway." he asserts matter of factly.
His eyes trace the lines within the book, and prided himself silently at how harmoniously the lines came together to create a mini portrait of yourself.
He admired you in all the styles on his page, in which he used it for a facial study.
The shape of your jaw in one, the averted gaze in another, the pout of your lips in yet another. Thank god he practically memorised how to draw you...
Dick Grayson:
Just trying to make time for you
"Babe, look!" Dicks voice echoes in the gym, a child-like excitement so unbelievably prevalent in his voice. You glance up from your own work out, a huff in your breath as your extreme weariness makes way for unamusement.
There you see your favorite acrobat doing the most douchebag thing: handstand push ups, the beacon of douches.
Dick had dragged you to the gym. Between vigilante work and actual work, you both hadn't been able to have any real time together. So...you both compromised on the gym!
You take some heavy, fatigued steps in his direction and plop onto the floor near his form, "Jesus...why did we have to come to the gym at 7AM?"
The way he beams, an entire paradox to your annoyance, he continues with the obnoxious calisthenics "Because we need some good, quality time together!"
"Ok, at 7AM though?"
"Well, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable about people you don't know, so yes," he affirms, "7AM for minimal social interaction."
His body bends so he lands on his feet, the sneakers squeaking on his feet against the rubber-like flooring. As he turns his body he looks down at you and looks at your exhausted and sweat-sheened face.
"Hey, gorgeous."
"I hate you, Dick."
He hardly bats an eye at your declaration, "Cmon, lay on your stomach, I'll massage your back."
He pauses and reconsiders, "Or...drop those pants and we can have a little gym quickie—"
"No."
"Got it!"
dividers by @cursed-carmine
this is so scary you guys have to be nice
# GOTHAM'S WARMTH
⤿ BRUCE WAYNE has always been the name in the headlines, and you were simply his wife. Then, one morning when you woke up way too early, you find a headline that changes your perception of Gotham as a whole.
!! fluff. fem!reader. wife!reader. implied sunshine!reader. established relationship. i geeked out w journalism pls just give it a chance PLEASEEE. i just left my news writing class i was inspired. reader indirectly mentions insecurity. i just love married bruce x reader. ENJOY.
melt with you
Guy Gardner/Reader, 1.1K
a/n: a request for beloved mutual @brdie who requested soft lazy day with Guy! :)))))))))))))
cw: flirting, tickling, kissing, established relationship, gn!reader (no description of features or clothing)
PREVIEW:
“What if you spill it on me?” You ask, tucking away your phone into your pocket. Even now, you don’t feel the urge to move away, especially with the manner that his free hand cards through your hair. Perhaps a ploy to keep you witless and at ease, but it’s a trap that guarantees your head remains resting on the span of his lap. That smirk grows predatory, you spot a flash of teeth that make themselves known. “Guess I’ll have to lick it all off if I do.” You can’t resist the giggle as you lean your forehead into the push of his stomach, pressing your face against him to hide your enthused disgust. “You’re gross.” “Ain’t that whatcha love about me?” tl;dr: lazy Sundays with your man. Guy Gardner/Reader
Man whatever what if I just get him pregnant
Colors
Pairing: Wally West x Reader Summary: Every time you ask him for his favourite colour, it feels like he's dodging you. Obviously to him, his favourite colour was anything you'd wear. So, obliviously, you pitch him the question every day, and he endearingly answers. CW: maybe OOC, no use of y/n A/N: i really liked writing this one, though I'm not really used to fluff. hope you all enjoy <3 Requested by @froggibus
It’d started out simple, when you’d first begun dating the speedster. I mean, who wouldn’t want to know about their boyfriend’s favourite colour, right? But every single time you pitched the question, his responses were so cheesy, and so unrehearsed that it had you constantly guessing. That’s how, six months into your relationship, you’re still playing this guessing game.
“What’s the colour, Wally? It has to be blue. It’s blue, right?” You ask excitedly, leaning against the island space in your shared apartment, grinning widely like you finally cracked the code. And when he nods, you feel a pang of triumph, only for it to quickly dull when you see that all-too memorable grin, and the way he off-handedly rubs the back of his arm. Oh no. So, not his favourite colour. “Yeah, it’s blue, baby. How’d you know?” He asks, sounding amused as he pulls you in closer by the hips, only to watch you scoff and smack his arm lightly, making the grin on his lips widen further. “Don’t lie straight to my face, West. You’re cruel.” You tease, even as he’s cupping your cheek and bending down to kiss you. So, yesterday didn’t work, but today definitely would, right? You’d decided, why not look through what he usually wears apart from his suit? That could be a good indicator, right? Wrong. A lot of his clothes look like hand-me-downs, which is weird because he doesn’t have any siblings? You decide not to question it anymore, and shrug on his gray hoodie, before wandering over to where he’s half-napping on the sofa. “Is it gray?” You ask, sounding almost hopeful, only to watch him open an eye and just nod blearily. But even this seems off. His reaction, watching him look back at you with love brimming in his eyes as he starts nodding and trying to agree makes you wonder if it’s right. Spoiler alert: it isn’t. So you just sit down beside him, huffing and puffing as he reaches for your hand and massages over your knuckles. You try again the day after, deciding to go with the most random colors in the universe in hopes he’d just blurt out whatever color it is that he’s just so scared to tell you. At least, you think it’s fear. You hope it’s fear, honestly, because otherwise he wouldn’t need the mind games, right?
“Wally, be honest, is it strawberry pink?” You ask, turning to face him in the bathroom, watching intently as he brushes his teeth for any sort of reaction. At first, you think he’ll just say no, but he gives you a once over, his hand thumbing at your lower back as he watches the Strawberry Shortcake shirt slip off one of your shoulders, and you sleepily rubbing sleep from your eyes. “How’d you know?” He murmurs, and bends down to bury his face in your hair, sighing contently when he faintly smells your shampoo. You grumble irritably, and look up at him, brows furrowing a little before brushing it off and going on with your day.
But the pattern continues, and you begin to wonder if he really even has a favourite colour. Though, the look of pure adoration in his eyes gets you every single time, and you truly believe he’s just…indecisive, or something. So you decide to pester him one final time in bed, right as he’s about to fall asleep. Everyone’s prone to telling the truth when they’re on the verge of sleep, you think. Or you just hope Dick wasn’t joking about that when you asked him for advice on this last week. So once the both of you are snuggled up under the six million blankets and pillows he’d begged you to get when you’d first moved in together, you decide it’s time. Pressing your head against his chest, you wrap your arms around his torso, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you feel his rhythmic heartbeat thumping against your chest. “Wally?” You mumble, and when you get a soft, exhausted hum from him, you decide to proceed. “Is your favourite colour Joker green? Is that it?” You ask, and get the softest, tiniest chuckle you’ve ever heard from him. For a moment, you don’t know if he’d fallen asleep, or just refused to answer. But then his arms wrap around you, too, and he pulls you up a little more, just enough so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair.
“Mmm no, not Joker green. I really like yellow.” He rasps, and you take that as a truth, nodding along intently. Of course it was yellow—that’d been the colour of his suit for a long time, hadn’t it? Why hadn’t you thought of that sooner? Of course, you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on the yellow pyjama pants you’d been consistently wearing all week, the same ones you’d fought tooth and nail for at the local store just because they were butter yellow. Because of course you’d do that, it was just so you. And he loved you to bits, and…well, any colour you wore was his favourite, because you were his favourite. How you hadn’t realized it yet was a miracle, but he’d keep it his secret a little longer.