#grumpycheshirecat

[gurlluvswriting]

Like Father, Like Son (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “The carnival’s in town!” Warnings: Cute fluff for the soul. A/N: It’s taken me so long to get this written, and I am so sorry. Life sucks; that’s the only excuse I can use. It’s a bit shorter than I was expecting/planning, but again, life is rude and I kinda lost this story a few times so I forgot a lot of what I was going to implement and this is different, but I think it’s good. I hope you enjoy!

You’re just finishing up cleaning the dishes when your husband comes through the door, placing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around you. His actions sluggish from Nightwing’s extra busy schedule last night.

“You let me sleep in,” Dick says, his voice husky with sleep.

“You seemed like you could use it,” You easily reply, and he sighs in content when you turn and peck his cheek. “The sun was rising when you got home.”

“And what were you doing awake so late?”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t awake until I felt a weight flop onto the bed next to me.” You pause for a second to glance at him, “Stop. I know that look, you don’t need to feel guilty, I fell back asleep pretty quickly.”

He hums, looking at the clock. “I’m surprised I stayed asleep for so long. Is Johnny at school or something?”

“It’s summer, hun.”

“Then how-”

It was kind of ironic how your little boy decided to come in at that moment. With an excited squeal of: “papa!” he runs over and leaps into Dick’s arms. Laughter fills the room as he’s thrown into the air and caught.

“Mama said we had to be quiet so you could get more sleep,” He says. “So we colored and watched TV!”

Dick gasps, “You watched cartoons without me?” He pouts dramatically when your son nods.

“Yeah, because you were sleepin’! I saved you some coloring pages though!” Johnny squirms out of your husband’s grasp in order to run and get the pieces of paper.

Dick turns to you once he’s out of earshot. “Okay, so who did you sell your soul to in order to keep Johnny quiet, and how do we get it back?”

You snort, and smack him playfully on the shoulder. “You know, Johnny is fully capable of being a perfectly calm and collected person when you’re not there to stir him all up with adrenaline.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, whatsoever.” He says, forcing a serious expression on his face. At your raised eyebrow, he grins innocently. “Alright, so I have the tendency to get him a little hyped up and playful, what’s the harm in that?”

“Most of the time, there isn’t a problem with it. You just have trouble figuring out when it is a problem. It’s fine that you get him all energized and excited in the day. However, when it’s way past his bedtime it gets a little frustrating when he’d much rather show me different tricks you taught him not even a full five minutes ago, Dick.”

You almost scoff when the man lets out a small sigh of relief when Johnny reappears. The boy excitedly hands the sheets of printed paper over, along with a box of crayons. Though, judging by how he keeps hopping from one foot to the other, you feel it’s safe to say he’s more excited about something else that must have come up.

“Something you want to tell us, Johnny?” You ask.

“The carnival’s in town!” He blurts out, revealing the newspaper he was hiding behind his back. “Can we go, please?”

You take a breath in order to prepare yourself, and look away from your son’s pleading face only to see your husband’s sparkling puppy dog eyes. Of course. You expected no less from these two.

You sigh. “Well, we don’t have anything major planned, so I guess-”

Both of them whoop in victory, and Dick picks up Johnny so they can high five each other. They each give you a kiss on the cheek with a quick ‘thank you’, before they’re both off to go and get ready.

You can’t help but smile when you hear their excited chatter throughout your small home, “Like father like son.”

[abirdandabeast]

Them being the only ones who can calm each other down when they lose control or even just in general.

1 (Terrible) - 2 (Bleh) - 3 (It’s okay, I guess) - 4 (I like this) - 5 (YOU CAN PRY THIS FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS)

Uh, yes! 

I adore the idea that these two grow so close that they develop an intimate understanding of each other. They remind me of Peeta and Katniss that way; they both have different outlooks on life, but their differences help make their relationship stronger. 

Plus, from the animated show, these two seem to already know just what to say to bring comfort to each other, imagine how they’d be when they start dating…

[gurlluvswriting]

The Chase of Love (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “Shut up, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine, I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re FINE.” Warnings: Swearing A/N: In case clarification is needed, I used “Y/F/N” and “Y/L/N” to refer to “your first name” and “your last name.” Also, when you mentioned the ‘other half’ part in the request, I wasn’t entirely sure if you were hinting at a Soulmate AU or something like that, but I took it as such, so I hope that’s okay.

Whenever a person would hit the horrors of puberty, they would receive a marking upon their wrists- a marking that held the words you were to first hear come from your other half’s mouth. People often worried when they received something casual, like hi or it was nice meeting you, however those who have already met their soulmate always say it’s more than just the words and you’ll know when it’s your significant other.

It was a strange life to lead. Your friends had laughed hard when they saw your words of: “Come the fuck on!” written in a beautiful, fancy cursive. On the day your heart clenched painfully, and your whole body burned, your friends had mourned with you at the sight of the words fading to look like a scar, signifying that your soulmate, whoever they were, had died. Then, some day later, you felt as though an entire weight was taken off of your shoulders, and there was a lightness in your heart that you couldn’t describe- you had looked at your wrist then, and found that the words had returned, brighter than ever.

You were just walking down the streets of Gotham, when the sounds of gunshots echoed from overhead. While others cowered in hopes to avoid the bullets they assumed were going to arrive, you looked up and saw Red Hood chasing after someone on the rooftops. You weren’t sure what possessed you, but you decided to join in the chase, on ground-level.

You were skidding into an alleyway when the thug hopped down onto one of the garbage containers, and continued running. You were going to attempt to apprehend him-- again you had little clue as to why-- until you heard the helmeted hero land next to you with frustration and exclaim: “Come the fuck on!” The words tickled on your wrist as he said them, and your heart felt as though it was going to burst.

“Holy shit, it’s you,” You mumble, and suddenly the man’s hidden face snapped towards you.

His whole body has gone tense, and before either of you can say anything, he’s tackling you to the ground and bullets fly overhead. He then pulls you in through a nearby door, that apparently lead through an abandoned building.

“Why now?” He asks under his breath. “Why when I’ve pissed off a whole gang?”

“You’ve done what now?” You’re then pulled into another room in the building, again, just barely missing the bullets that barrage where you just stood.

It goes on like that for awhile, you two run from what seems to now be an army of assholes, and your soulmate keeps muttering profanities while pulling you along. You’ve both just left the building, and as you try to continue running, Red Hood stops you by pulling you into his chest and hiding in the shadows. His plan works, and the men all pass you by. He pulls you back into the building after a few minutes.

Finally having time to process everything that’s happened, you pace around the room, while he just leans against a boarded up window.

After a few more minutes he asks: “You good, doll? Anything you want to talk about? Y’know, instead of walking back and forth like someone who can’t remember whether the directions said left or right?”

You continue pacing. “Shut up, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine, I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re FINE.”

He hums before taking off his helmet, which, probably embarrassingly, causes you to stop and stare. He isn’t wearing a mask underneath, so you’re able to get a clear view of his eyes, and you find yourself getting lost in them.

“See something you like?” He teases.

You approach him and bring a hand up to fix a stray hair. “You’re hot.”

His face goes bright red. “Not very subtle, are you?”

You smile, your own cheeks tinting red. “Sorry, I just… it’s true.”

He clears his throat. “I-- thanks. I, uh, I mean, you’re pretty hot too. Very hot, really. Uh,” He holds his hand out suddenly. “Jason Hood-- wait shit, no. Red Todd-- fuck. J-Jason Todd! Is me. That’s my name. I’m Jason… Todd.”

You take his hand in yours with a giggle, “Well, I’m Y/F/N,” You pause teasingly. “Y/L/N.”

He nods and even his ears are red with how much he’s blushing. “Cool. That’s a good name. I mean-- it just… it suits you. This is… I’m doing wonders on my bad boy complex right now, aren’t I?”

You laugh, and his eyes soften at the sound. “Think they’re gone? Because I was on my way to get some frozen yogurt with this soon to be expired coupon before this all happened.”

Jason chuckles, puts his helmet back on, and motions for you to follow him.

[gurlluvswriting]

A Walk Home (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine when I slipped on your blood walking in here!” Warnings: Blood, mentioning of blood loss, concussion, injuries, and angst? A/N: When I first saw this quote, I was gonna make it a funny one, like “pshhh, I’m not hurt, whatever lol, it’s just a flesh wound,” but then it turned into this serious-ish thing.

He should have known it was a bad idea to have not cleaned himself up at least a little bit; he’s the world’s greatest detective for god’s sake. Then again, the blood loss made thinking difficult- more difficult than when he’d previously lost a fair amount of blood, which may be something one should worry about, but the Batman isn’t going to be taken out so easily. That’s what he tells himself, at least, whilst seemingly tripping on air and clinging tightly to the wall.

His mind is swirling wildly, and it takes him 30 seconds to become confused as to what happened and another 30 seconds to have the memories flood his mind. Well, most of the memories. He remembers being on patrol, fighting enemies- was it Two-Face or Penguin? Then something happened, the Batmobile got blown up somehow, and then everything was spinning. There was a lot of red-- why was there red? Wait, liquid red; blood. His blood. That’s right, that’s what led to here- he walked all the way back to the Batcave caked in his own blood.

Alfred wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he decided to head to the medical table himself so he could patch himself up. By himself. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Then a huge headache came out of nowhere. No, not nowhere. You were yelling, and it was both unexpected and contradictory to the silence of the cave that it caused his temples to throb. What were you saying? You sounded worried, and Bruce didn’t want you to be worried, so he tried to reassure you, all the while keeping his back to you.

That was now, though. That’s what all lead to now, where he’s saying: “I’m fine.”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine when I slipped on your blood walking in here!” You firmly say.

He was leaning heavily against the countertop when you make him turn to face you and your entire body goes rigid. His face is rapidly dripping with blood, and you fear how badly the actual injury itself must look under his mask. His gaze is unsteady, and the paleness of his skin is unsettling.

You move him to sit down while you hurriedly gather supplies in order to treat his wounds, you sympathetically wince when you do peel his mask away, and reveal a fairly sized gash on the left of his head.

“What happened? How long have you been bleeding for?” You ask, trying to remain as calm as possible while gently applying some disinfectant and attempting to stop the bleeding.

“I…” He trails off, and blinks a few times. “Where’s Alfred?”

“He’s with Tim. Tim needed his help, remember?”

“No-- yes. I remember.”

“With how disoriented you are, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say you have a concussion.” You begin to clean the excess blood. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

“I didn’t need help.”

“Bruce-”

“Y/N, I got here fine on my own.”

“Fine? You think you’re fine, right now?” You grasp his chin and make him look at you. “Bruce, your words are slurring, your entire figure was hunched over as you were walking, and you didn’t respond or even acknowledge the first 15 times I called your name.”

“You called my name?”

“See, that doesn’t convince me that you’re ‘fine’.” You sigh, a single tear escaping you as you begin to gather the supplies for a blood transfusion. “Batman is still a man. You can’t be stupid. Jason was out, and while I know the both of you aren’t on the best terms right now, he would’ve helped you if you called. In fact, he wasn’t the only one out, what about Cass or Steph?”

You cringe internally when you insert the needle into his vein and tape it down in order to ensure the crimson liquid enters his bloodstream.

“Y/N,” He raises his opposite arm- the one lacking a tube- to wipe away a tear from your face. “I’m sorry.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll stop being a stubborn ass for once and put your pride away. What if I didn’t feel the need to check the cave instead of eating that tub of ice cream in the freezer? What if I never found you clinging to the wall-?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” His eyes look heavy, and it’s obvious he’s fighting to keep them open.

You sniff, “You’re okay now. Just get some rest.”

You don’t have to tell him twice, and he’s out the second his eyelids fall shut.

[gurlluvswriting]

Strong Arms (Cassandra Cain x Reader)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “What’s really holding you back?” Warnings: Swearing. Comfort. Fear of being too angry? A/N: For clarification just in case: Y/S/N = Your superhero name. Also, I personally hardly ever feel anger- in fact I can already tell you I’ve only ever been sincerely pissed off like three times max (and none of them lasted long at all lol)- so if something doesn’t sound right, let me know? This was basically the first thing that came to mind with the prompt.

It had been a long while since you’d first delved into vigilantism, and you had gained just about as many allies as you had enemies. Your job wasn’t one you had ever really worried about before- you knew the risks, but in your mind they didn’t matter, so long as you were saving and helping innocent people. It was just that plain and simple to you-- and the fact that you’ve always had trouble figuring out how to deal with your anger against bad people who did or said terrible things was just a thing that existed. It didn’t affect your work, you were merciful despite how easy it would have been to dehumanize them due to their actions. That was the right thing to do, showing mercy- it made you better than them. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

There were words that swam around in your head-- a phrase that someone had spoke to you on one night of patrol that plagued your mind. It kept you up at night, had you pacing around your whole damn apartment. You kept repeating the same things to yourself over and over: they don’t know me, it’s not true, their words are lies; but no matter how many time they were said, whether mentally or verbally, they did very little to ease your troubled mind.

Tonight was only different in the fact that you had scheduled to meet up with Cass in order to train; and you were sure it would help, because surely being close to a loved one would make that ridiculous phrase leave you. Surely, simply seeing a friendly face would make your mind snap out of the stupor that it fell into.

It’s not even a full half-hour later when Cass throws you onto the padded ground, landing on your back with a grunt of pain escaping you. Your training partner is giving you a look- one that has a small frown pulling at her lips and her eyebrows pinching together slightly. Cass shouldn’t be though, you’re fine, and nothing’s wrong. You just let some stupid criminal get into your head a little, that’s all. It was going to pass soon enough.

You roll over onto your belly before you push yourself up and make a lunge at her. She simply takes a single step to the side, and you’re, again, on the floor.

“Y/N,” Cassandra finally says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” You assure- or at least, you hope your tone is assuring.

“Then why are you holding back?”

“I’m not-” You cut yourself off at the sharp glare she gives you, and sigh. “Okay, I’m holding back because… I uh, I’m feeling a bit tired. I’m not meaning to, I just--”

“Y/N,” The tone she uses makes your jaw slam shut, making it clear that there is no argument to be made here. “What’s really holding you back?”

With a breath that was much sharper than you had meant to inhale, you stutter and stare back at her eyes that were filled with concern. You wanted to tell her it was okay-- you were fine, nothing was wrong, and she had nothing to worry about; but when you tried to voice those words, they got stuck in your throat. That’s when a sob ripped its way through instead, and you allowed your body to collapse in her arms.

She didn’t say another word, knowing you would speak up when able and ready to talk. Instead, she carded a hand through your hair and rubbed soothing circles into your back with her free hand. You’re not sure how long it took you to speak up, but you assume it was an embarrassing amount of time.

“I,” You force out, your throat burning at how hoarse it had already become. “I don’t want to cross the line.”

Cass pulls back and gives you a confused stare, and wipes away a stray tear as she waits for you to continue.

The words reappear in your mind: You can hardly control your anger against us-- admit it! You are a mere thread to crossing the line- a string away from finally taking a life. Sure, when you do, you’ll be convinced it was for the greater good-- we’re the bad guys, after all! But that’s the thing about crossing lines, Y/S/N. Your judgement on where a line is becomes faulty- and when you can’t decipher who is good and who is bad, what’s to stop you from hurting the ones you hold dear? What’s to stop you from cutting your allies down?

“I don’t-” You let out a sob. “I don’t want to-to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone- I don’t want to betray anyone with my temper. I don’t want to snap and-and kill anyone.”

With wide eyes, Cassandra pulls you into another hug. “You won’t. Your anger does not control you-- you control it.”

“B-but what if someday, I can’t?” You whisper, as though speaking the idea would jinx it to happen. “What if someday I lose it?”

“I won’t let that happen. I’d stop you before it came to that.” She rests her head atop yours. “I could beat you even if you weren’t holding back within sixty seconds.”

You laugh a little, “I think you’re being a little too humble with that, we both know it’s more like ten seconds max.”

She nods faintly, which causes your laugh to increase. For awhile she just holds you, and the words that brought you such worry leave you-- because she was right, she’s much stronger than you’d probably ever be. The grip of her arms was proof enough of that- and you felt safe within them.

[gurlluvswriting]

Grounded (Damian Wayne)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “Oh, you want to fight me? That’s cute.” Warnings: Guns, a school shooting situation, and a kidnapping. (No one dies just so you know). A/N: I hope that it’s okay that this isn’t a reader insert-- there wasn’t necessarily a specification, and the first thing that came to my mind didn’t include a reader. If you want me to redo this one, just let me know, and I’ll write a different one for you.

Damian was having a spectacularly boring week. Father had grounded him from patrol for defending himself against Drake’s hostile stupidity (or as Bruce had put it: “Damian, it isn’t acceptable to attempt to cut off Tim’s limbs just because he accidentally stepped on Alfred the cat’s paw when the cat came up from behind him.”) The boy huffed out an annoyed breath before clicking his tongue irritably. He would have simply snuck off, had Pennyworth not been keeping a close eye on him.

Nothing got past that man- he had set up his escape perfectly. His pillows were stuffed under the blanket, he kept the lights completely off, he waited hours to ensure that the elder believed he was asleep, and just as he had slightly made his way to the window, his door was thrown open and the words: “And where do you think you’re running off to, Master Damian?” made him nearly jump out of his skin (not that he’d ever admit it).

Damian had even attempted to call Grayson in order to demand that he convince Father to put an end to this ridiculous punishment- or at the very least shorten the timeframe. Not only did the older man somehow end up doing the opposite (Damian received an extra three weeks of no patrol), he had the audacity to tell him that this was an opportunity. He had rambled on and on in an annoyingly bubbly tone of how it was a chance for him to get to act normal. Damian had only listened because at the very end Grayson told him that within this experience he’d have more knowledge on how to act more like civilians did and become more skilled on keeping unwanted attention away from himself.

So, here he was. Attending school. Having not even been allowed to glance at his Robin costume for seven whole days-- a whole week. He was itching for a fight- PE simply wasn’t cutting it anymore, it wasn’t challenging enough. He knew he could easily take down anyone in this building, but that would be wrong, considering they’re innocent citizens.

Then again, he couldn’t be 100% sure, considering his privileges on doing a thorough search on a person’s background have also been revoked. He narrows his eyes at the newly hired janitor- Mr. Mueller, if that is his true name, will not be catching him off guard should he show his true colors. Whatever those colors may be.

He enters the building while mumbling his signature “tt” under his breath.

It’s about three hours into school that the ‘lockdown’ happens. Great. Now he gets to be extra bored-- no patrol, no fighting, and now he doesn’t even get to have class. At least when lessons were being taught he’d have something to do, rather than sitting on the floor with the crowd of quivering classmates and a nervous teacher.

It wasn’t even a full five minutes when the door was kicked down, a gunman pointing his shotgun at the teacher. His eyes skim the students until he locks onto Damian- who meets his glare head on and with no fear.

The man turns towards the hallway for a split second. “Found Wayne’s kid! He’s here!”

While Damian’s teacher surely had the intention of taking the guy off-guard in hopes to defend him, maybe let him escape, it was more stupid than anything. With a swift flick of his arm, the man whacks the teacher over their head, causing them to become unconscious within seconds, and for all the children to let out screams of terror and curl up further into themselves.

Damian simply stood when the criminal attempted to approach, not wanting anyone else to get hurt simply because the fool didn’t understand what he was getting into. The man grips his hair to tug him close, only eliciting a huff of annoyance from the boy, and then drags him by his forearm once close enough.

While he’s being pulled along in the hallway, he finds himself hiding a smirk- finally something interesting was happening. He’d been aching for some action- something to get his blood pumping and his fists smashing things. Yes, these guys simply had no clue what world of pain they had walked into.

Damian’s patient. He’s not foolish enough to just jump into a fight when he’s brought to a group of armed men, nor is he stupid enough to start something when he’s tied up and thrown in the back of their getaway car. No, while he was excited for what was to come, he wasn’t going to risk the danger of innocent people, even if he was sure he could have taken all of these goons within five seconds.

So he waits until they pull up into a warehouse- and truly, could they be anymore cliche? He waits until they shove him in a chair that was placed in the middle of the mostly empty room, and even then he waits longer. He waits until their ringleader enters, and suppresses an overly excited grin when the criminal approaches.

“That’s quite the look in your eye,” Their leader states, peering in Damian’s eyes. “You look like you’re ready to spring at any moment.”

Damian can’t suppress his evil smile then, his eyes glowing even darker at the thoughts of completely destroying these people.

The leader looks unimpressed, and snorts. “Oh, you wanna fight me? That’s cute.”

“Funny,” Damian finally speaks. “I was thinking the same about your sad attempt of taking me ‘hostage’.”

With that said, he snaps the weak confines on his hands, flips himself over the chair, balances himself on his hands, and kicks the chair harshly into the man’s face. So much for being a leader- he was already out with just one hit, how disappointing.

The others come running over, obviously agitated, and Damian simply dodges their attacks before giving them some of his own. One man goes down with a hard kick to the groin; another’s head snaps so loudly at a well-placed punch, Damian worries he had accidentally killed the man; before the last of the bunch falls after four punches to the gut, a swipe under his legs, and his arm being snapped when Damian places a sturdy foot on his shoulder and yanks at his wrist.

The boy loudly groans in exasperation and kicks the leader who’s still unconscious; this was supposed to be more entertaining than this. They were too weak. They went down too quickly. The only adrenaline that showed up was the anticipation of finally getting a fight- but this wasn’t even a fight.

With folded arms he turns around to see Batman stomping over to him. Father looms over him, his white lenses narrowed sternly.

“Damian-”

“I would like to point out they attacked first,” He quickly interrupts.

“No they didn’t,” before any protest can be made, his father gruffly says: “I saw you fling the chair first.”

“Self-defense.”

“Damian.”

“They kidnapped me! What, was I supposed to just sit still?”

“Yes! Fighting while out of costume is a very dangerous thing, Damian!”

Damian opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts it roughly and looks at the floor angrily. After a minute of silence, the vigilante sighs and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, opting him to look up.

He’s surprised to see that his jaw isn’t clenched, and there isn’t anymore signs of annoyance in his body language. “However, it’s… good that you didn’t start a fight at the school. You waited until you were out of sight before engaging.” He pauses awkwardly, before turning and walking towards the exit. “Well done.”

Damian inhales deeply at the praise, before sprinting over to fall into step at his father’s side. They both remain silent until the Batmobile comes into view. “I’ll drive.”

“No, you’re still grounded.”

“So, after-”

“No.”

“Tt.”

[gurlluvswriting]

Dating Headcanon

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Request: “Headcanon for what types of dates the bat boys and girls would go on with their s/o.” Warnings: None. A/N: I’m not entirely sure who all counts as a bat boy, so I kind of just went with who I knew counts? Sorry, lol, if I excluded someone just let me know and I’ll do their headcanon as well :)

Dick

Romantic AF.

He’ll make sure to keep his s/o’s preferences and such in mind to ensure they’re comfortable the whole time and the date goes as amazing as it can for them.

For example, if they aren’t comfortable going to a really expensive restaurant, he’ll more than happily plan out a private place to eat.

A bouquet of flowers is almost always a constant.

If his s/o is really excited or passionate about something, like aquatic animals or space, you better believe he’ll do everything in his power to plan something based off of it. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t interested in it either, he’s more than happy to just see their faces light up in joy.

He just wants his s/o to be comfortable, happy, and enjoying themselves.

Jason

This boy will do everything in his power to make sure the date is perfect.

Like, he will shove his pride away and ask for help to ensure it’s nothing but amazing for his s/o.

He’d probably prefer to avoid places with a lot of people.

If he’s extremely serious about the relationship, be ready for dates that most wouldn’t actually mark as ‘romantic’-- like wrestling matches, sketchy alley bowling, and loitering super cheap bars because “babe, you haven’t lived if you haven’t had one of the drinks from here.”

Sometimes the dates will be as simple as just riding his motorcycle around.

Cass

She loves experiencing new things, and it tends to show in her dates by being different every time.

She likes to give meaningful gifts to her s/o as well.

Her ability to read body language super well is great for when she needs a new idea for a date, because she’ll make sure to focus and remember things her s/o reacts positively towards-- it also helps with choosing gifts too.

She’s open to doing anything because she loves spending time with them, and that’s honestly her only goal when it comes to dating.

Like she’ll be content to just snuggle on the couch and watch movies together.

Tim

If any dates go wrong, he’s going to blame Google and Dick.

Because those were his main sources of dating help.

He’ll do everything to make sure everything goes smoothly, or at least he’ll try to make everything go smoothly.

He’s a very nervous bean.

Especially since after the sixth date at a coffee cafe he figures he should probably change it up a bit. (His next plan is probably an arcade).

Steph

This bubbly girl of energy is an exciting person to go on a date with. There’s never a dull moment.

She’s always got something to say in order to keep the conversation going, and she’s a great listener as well.

If her s/o were willing to do something thrilling like going bungee jumping or skydiving, she’d be completely for it.

She’s going to do everything in her power to make her s/o laugh and have a great time.

[gurlluvswriting]

Actions Have Consequences (Tim Drake x Reader)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “Please hide me” Warnings: None.

Today had been an adventure- you mean that in a sarcastic way, of course. Work was already hectic on it’s own, but your boss decided to give you some more assignments to go. However, you knew that in your crappy apartment with thin walls, you’d never be able to focus- especially with your new neighbors who liked to be a bit more vocal than the average person.

So here you were, in Wayne Manor, sitting on their couch that definitely cost triple your apartment rent. It was nice, to say the least. Your laptop was on the coffee table, along with the paperwork that was scattered atop its surface- and you had a giant, comfy blanket on your lap. It pooled to the floor, even if you pulled it up to your shoulders!

You had just finished half of your work when Tim burst through the doors, looking extremely frantic and absolutely terrified. When his eyes lock onto yours, it’s as though he’s suddenly right in front you, gripping your shoulders firmly.

“Please hide me,” He says, his voice barely even a whisper.

“What?” You ask, bewildered. “Is everything-”

“I don’t have time to explain, just help me, please. I’m begging you!”

A sudden rush of protectiveness flows through you and you’re looking around in order to find a decent hiding place. There seemed to be little hope. The room was spotless, and open- it was also daylight, so attempting to put him in the shadows would also prove faulty. You glance down at the blanket, and that’s the only idea you have.

You lift the end of the blanket, “Uh, here!”

Whatever was going on, you knew he wasn’t kidding when he didn’t say he had time, because without any argument he crawled under the blanket, and even under your legs. The doors slam open once more, and you swear you could hear Tim go rigid.

You look at the door to figure out what’s going on, and immediately shove a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. There, in the doorway, hands still holding the doors open, was Damian Wayne with hot pink hair.

“Where is he?” The boy demands.

“Where is who?” You ask, feigning ignorance.

“Drake!”

“How should I know? I’ve been doing work for, like, three hours.”

He narrows his eyes at you, as though he was looking through your very soul, then scrunches up his nose. “Why such a large blanket?”

Crap. “I like to be comfortable and bundled up. I always grab this blanket when I’m here, you can even ask Alfred.”

Damian continues to have his eyes narrowed in suspicion for a while longer, until he does his signature “tt” and promptly begins to leave the premises. Just before he does, however, he adds: “I hope you are not serious with your relations with Drake, because as soon as I find him, he’ll be scheduling his funeral.”

Then he slams the door shut behind him, much to your relief, since you were no longer able to hold in the snort of laughter that surfaced. You throw the blanket off of yourself, and look at Tim, who seems to be completely paralyzed in shock that the hiding place actually worked.

You cross your legs on his back, “You know, I learned something valuable with this. You make a great foot rest.”

He scoffs in mock offense before gently moving your legs to stand up and sit next to you. “Thank you for giving me a few more moments of life.”

“So, you wanna tell me why Boy Wonder has taken on a new hair color?”

“Payback.”

“Oh?”

“He ‘accidentally’ destroyed all of my equipment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You resume typing away at your keyboard as he lies his head onto your shoulder. With a smirk you ask: “Was it worth your undeniable demise?”

He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when he says: “Definitely.”