Batboys Lemons

{Not your typical love story} Dick Grayson X Non blonde reader (Part 1)

Did I just exclude a probably quite large potion of my ever-dwindling audience for the sake of one joke I wanted to make? Yeah. But I doubt many of you were sociopaths and you still read that one, so blondes can still read if they want to.

Also, there are a lot of sexual themes in this one. Wouldn't it be hilarious if this was the first one someone had clicked on and they were like, "well duh."?

C\D stands for choice drink

At sixteen you'd become convinced your English teacher had become interested in you after he insisted on you staying after class-he was unfairly hot for a fifty-year-old man-and you decided to make your move. Which ended with you in detention with a note strongly suggesting therapy being sent off to your parents.

Later you kissed your bully of two years after mistaking his violent outbursts for sexual frustration. At least he left you alone now.

You took in a dangerous gangster who had been shot in the leg and tried to nurse him back to health. Only to find out that caring for a bullet wound wasn't something you could play by ear. And not only did he not fall hopelessly in love with you, but he also wanted to kill you after that ordeal.

After being fired from a firm for misreading your relationship with your boss. You'd completely given up. Looking in the mirror, you let yet another defeated sigh escape your lips. This time when Stephanie tried to set you up with a guy friend of hers, you didn't resist.

Rolling in the collar of a wine-red shirt that had the initials "T.M." stitched into it, you wrapped the sides around your waist and hid their ends in your high-waisted black jeans.

The shirt had once been Tony's, but he'd left it behind when he departed for the hospital with sepsis. He never returned. You told yourself it was for the best, he was towed away with barely the strength to stand, his muscles weren't nearly as big as the night you'd met him and he screamed all the time he would kill you. As they dragged, no, carried, him away. While he hoarsely cried out his threats from his fragile shrunken form, you had to ask yourself why you'd ever liked him.

Maybe you had to end up in a loveless relationship with an okay-looking guy you weren't truly attracted to before you could meet a hot bad boy who wanted you even though you were already taken. Or maybe you'd meet before the date and a reconcilable disagreement would cause you to not give one another a chance before finally deciding you can't fight your feelings and fall hopelessly in love.

Or what if it were Clark from high school? Re-meeting like this would surely force him to reevaluate his feelings towards you. And your rocky past would be sufficient enough conflict for your story.

With this last encouraging thought, you grabbed your bag and skipped out the door.

Disappointed didn't cover what you felt upon learning you'd been set up with Dick Grayson, an upstanding citizen, and a police officer generally known for being a nice person. You'd stopped wanting that when you were twelve. Long gone were the days when a cute guy who would pay for dinner had a chance. You wanted a sexy alpha who would shower you with gifts that would, of course, be rejected because you loved him not his money; but eventually, he would convince you to take it because he wouldn't take no for an answer. In anything.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your date, "this lemonade is really good, would you like to try some?" he asked, gesturing towards his glass.

"No."

"Okay."

He didn't press. You sighed sadly as he happily drank his lemonade, while you both waited on your food.