Dick found himself getting caught off guard with you recently. You’d been on a mission with him when Poison Ivy got you with some personality-altering gas, so you turned from his sweet, soft-hearted girl to somewhat of a Selina Kyle or a Tarantino movie femme fatale, and he didn’t know how to feel about it when you were that bold.

It was unnerving.

Normally your movie nights were filled with soft giggles, sweet kisses and you playing with Dick’s fingers, now it had turned into you wearing some pretty provocative pyjamas, touching whatever of him you could reach— damn it, he was getting flustered, cause it was still his girl. Just juiced-up on gas.

When you’d turned his head to you and away from the movie, he noted your eyes dropping to his lips— shit, shit, why was he getting so damn affected by this? He shouldn’t be, right, it’s routine, but this was a you who was more confident, more rough, much more demanding. Oh, shit, this was hard.

“Yeah?” Dick acted casual — unaware — cause that should do it, right? It should stop him from being so flustered by his girlfriend who’s changed from his sweet girl to something that he has no idea how to handle. Oh, Bruce needed to find the antidote fast.

“Need me f’something?” Oh, fuck, the way his head was going fuzzy, he really couldn’t handle this new version of you— give him back his sweet, giggly, joyful girl. Not that he was complaining that your drive for him’s increased, but this made him blush and get whipped and he wanted your soft kisses.

His pretty girl.