Everlark for number 29? Your fics are great, keep on writing!
So, um…this prompt is two years old. Yikes. But anyways, the requested dialogue phrase is “I thought you were dead,” and it will be a miracle if the Anon who sent this even remembers sending it (*crazed laughter*). Anyhow, this prompt along with a few reviews shook something loose in my head and the below 4K+ word vomit happened. Not beta’d, so forgive my mistakes, also the end feels rushed but short of completely rewriting Catching Fire this is what you get. It is a continuation of something that is a year old, which you can read on:
your choice. You’re gonna want to read that part first. And before you ask…yes there’s a third part in the works. So now I have to figure out how to post this part to the other sites when I said I wouldn’t expand it. Why do I do this to myself? I should be working on ms2sl or It’s All a Lie. Enough whining! Rated M for sexy times. Enjoy.
It takes a good two minutes for what they’re suggesting to sink into my brain. As soon as it does, I shake my head vigorously. “I’m not saying that.”
“Come on, Katniss. Your mother will know it’s a lie.” As if that would be my only real objection.
“No!” I shout at Gale but my eyes are drawn to Peeta, sitting in one of the bright chartreuse armchairs, hands clenched with his forearms resting on his thighs. There’s a strange tick in his jaw and a gaping chasm between us that I don’t know how to breach. My next words are directed at him. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he whispers. My eyes burn and bile rises in my throat as I run from the room.
“Catnip,” Gale pleads. He hasn’t called me that unless there’s a camera around since before the last Games.
“Let him talk to her and explain,” I hear Haymitch say and I know that Peeta’s following me. I run to the only place I can think of that might allow me to talk freely, so long as the wind is howling like it was last night. A cold blast of wind hits me when I reach the roof, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Peeta’s warmth crashes into my back. I didn’t think he’d be able to catch up that quickly.
Saw your post about fics with no smut and I completely agree. Then I got wondering, would you want to put together a rec list of smut free/minimal smut for Gramander? You seem knowledgeable in the fandom to a newcomer.
I’m sorry I took quite some time to answer since I’ve been on holiday!
To be fair, I love smut fic and read tons of it. Crave for them even. But I, also as a writer, want to support every fics and some ppl need to appreciate good works and writer’s dedication. Fan fiction, with or without smut, is worth appreciation.
Here’s some smut free/minimal smut Gramander list I could summarize in this short amount of time.
Phew! This is a long list for you anon. I believe there are more good stories out there, one that I haven’t read it yet or mentioned them in this post. Anyone who see this post and want to add more, please feel free to do so.
@silverynight is one of Gramander writer who I believe is the most active writer here, and she once mentioned that she preferred write non-smut story. Make sure you follow her in ao3 as well!
Hey there, anon! I’m quite surprised you asked me this question, but I’m thankful that you did. :)
*rubs my hands together* I got a few, really good fanfics to recommend. Some are new, some are old. Most of them are Franticshipping ones (where Ruby and Sapphire are in character), but I will also recommend my friends’ fanfics too. And it’s obvious I mostly read the franticshipping ones, hehe… well… THEY’RE MY OTP OKAY. I JUST LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP/RELATIONSHIP AND AHHHHH. T-T
I’m new to AO3 so most of these are from FFN since I’ve been there for five years with that old account, but don’t visit that account. It’s abandoned and an embarrassment and the fact that I have a crossover fanfic there with 32 chapters that hasn’t been updated for 4 years. XD
Lost Fragments - yeah, that’s the current sort of franticshipping fanfic I am working on. It’s a modern AU fanfic and it’s dedicated to my amazing friend and sister and the number one Pokespe nerd for me. (Hey @fallan-angel , hehe. *hugs Fallan* ^^). I really need to control this habit of “literally bragging the people whom I admire and respect” to everyone. I’ve published the first two chapters and I’m currently writing chapter 10. I’ll try to update this monthly, though, hoping college won’t get in the way. I know I’m kinda cheating for promoting my own fanfic, hehe, so I’m sorry for that. But it would totally mean a lot to me if you read this. I have some other franticshipping fanfics in my FFN profile but I think most of them are an embarrassment, hehe. Plus, I need to edit those grammatical errors, so it really is embarrassing.
Canvas Of Life - another modern AU franticshipping fanfic (for the second chapter) and a specialshipping one (in the first chapter). It’s feelsy. I love this. It’s amazing. They are all in character and Arceus it’s just beautiful. The author also had a lot of great Spe fanfics in there too, so check it out as well. :D
Ruby Tuesdays- another modern AU franticshipping fanfic, hehe. This is beautiful. You could say that this and Canvas of Life guided me to write LF correctly. Setting the characters in a modern AU is a toughie, but these authors managed to do it beautifully. ^^
Amnesiac- THIS. IS. BEAUTIFUL. It uses deep vocabulary but it is one of the most beautifully written franticshipping fanfics out there. It’s just simply amazing. Even Adex agrees with me on this one, hehe. (Well, since he also reviewed in this fanfic. Don’t read my review, though. I was a naive kid back then. XD)
House Rivalry - A Harry Potter AU frantic fanfic, hehe. It is also on going. Though it may have some grammar problems, since the author did mention that English is not their first language, it’s still a beautiful fanfic. Ruby and Sapphire are in character. Read it. It’s beautiful.
The Last Beast- TLB is an action-packed fanfic written by my good friend, a writer whom I admire and respect, Totally Not Adex. Adex is a great writer. TLB is an amazing fanfic. A bloody masterpiece as I would like to call it. Although you better prepare for some deaths, especially the death of your fave dexholders. *looks at TLB C10* I AM STILL STANDING AND ADEX KNOWS WHAT WILL DESTROY ME AS TLB PROGRESSES. *cries in a corner*
Somehow - A short, luckyshipping fanfic written by @gresh113. It’s short but beautiful. Go and read it.
Summary: In a world where everyone’s first words to their soulmate are tattooed on their soulmate’s forearm, you are cursed with the vaguest, most simplistic tattoo in history. And you hate the word “hey.”
Genre: Fluff + Soulmate!au
A/N: This is my first fic for an anime and I’m not even an anime blog (whoops lmao) but I saw @lazyhaikyuu’s post and I just couldn’t help myself!! Enjoy the 2.8K words :)
Black Consciousness presupposes self-love; self-love presupposes reflecting on being passed over in relationships
Note from BW of Brazil:
Well I must say that it is now getting interesting! What I’m speaking on is an increasing number of Afro-Brazilians, normally women, but increasingly men, who are questioning how romantic choices are made, what certain choices say about the black community as a whole and the effect on how Afro-Brazilians relate to each other. The issue goes far beyond the common question of how it seems some black men and women choose partners of another race and enters into the sphere of simply love, support and unity among black people. Is there a problem here or are people simply making a bigger deal out of this than is necessary? I ask this question as I am increasingly reading material online suggesting that there is a peaking fissure between black men and women in both Brazil and the United States. I’ve been thinking about this for many years and today I read a post by my friend Daniela whose shared a recent personal incident that touched on another angle of the lack of unity between black men and women.
Daniela is a black Brazilian woman but the incident took place in Austin, Texas, in the United States. Having grown up in the US, I can honestly say that just 10 years ago, most black men wouldn’t have sided with a white man over a black woman who felt offended by the actions of that white man. The incident has nothing to do with a romantic relationship but it does fit into the ongoing discussion because it approaches the issue of how black men see black women and begs some basic questions. Do we have each other’s backs? Are we in this together? Do we have any unity? Or are we slowly being conquered by a discourse that says “we’re all equal” in terms of race, color and solidarity? As I’ve argued before, Brazil has been there for years, but we are increasingly seeing this idea becoming stronger in the US. With that said written, I must again ask, in what direction are we going black people?
Black Consciousness presupposes self-love; self-love presupposes reflecting on being passed over in relationships
Among so many themes we could write together, and they’re not few, we decided to revisit a thorny subject. Every time a new text appears on the issue of the black woman’s affective loneliness, the black side of the internet goes into a rampage. Black men, in their vast majority, run to say that black women are also palmiteiras, or else to reinforce that they are not palmiteiros. Not to mention the discourse that love has no color. But if it does not, if the diagnosis that black women experience loneliness in a brutal way is a fallacy, how could Ana Clara Pacheco even write a doctoral thesis addressing this topic?
By Winnie Bueno and Caio César
The social passing over of which black women are targets is not restricted to the labor market alone, they expand to all spheres of society, including in the affective sphere. We have already written about these issues relentlessly. But it’s little. The narratives about the deep feeling of loneliness among black women don’t diminish, on the contrary, it seems, although we are increasing our possibilities to recognize ourselves as subjects, distancing ourselves from the logic that Frantz Fanon explains in Pele Negra, Máscaras Brancas (Black Skin, White Masks) that approaches the connection of citizenship with the performances of whiteness on the part of the black population, even with the strengthening of the black racial identities, nevertheless, black women continue dealing with the feeling of insufficiency.
The idea of this text is to bring a hybrid approach, in which it is possible in a single writing to reflect on the consequences of affective loneliness for blackness in a broad way. It’s necessary to say that affective solitude is not restricted to the passing over of the black women in the affective relationships of the dating and marriage type. The socio-cultural aspect of this question goes beyond the private of the relationships. And that’s where we want to start this dialogue.
I believe that addressing the subject of loneliness is speaking directly, also, to black men. Talking about how much these men can love and be loved. And understand that this passes, first, through loving oneself, your culture, your people. It goes through understanding imposed masculinity, the stigmas and the stereotypes. Every masculinity that the world imposes on men falls even more heavily on black men. The necessity of being strong, hard, rigid all the time. Not showing emotions, or weakness or feelings. And this reflects also in loving relationships. On how treatment is given between men and women, especially black women. Add to this the construction of the black man’s image as a threat by international society.
Homens negros (black men) are the image of the enemy, that that is regarded as a voracious, uncontrollable animal, which, if not controlled by the coercive force of the state, can at any moment unleash their natural violence (see note one). The idea that these men need to be isolated from society so that it is protected is the projection of a discourse that has such an ideological force that even blackness is conditioned to perpetuate these ideas. Therefore, the deconstruction of this ideology between us is fundamental. Branquitude (whiteness), the media, the white social structure will not do this, it maintains itself from these assumptions and draws power from them. Of them there is not much to expect, but among us, it is possible to potentiate these reflections, talk about them and reduce their impacts on our social relations.
The solidão da mulher negra (solitude/loneliness of the black woman inevitably passes through the way men see themselves within society and within relationships. All the imposed roles, the social rules, everything, everything counts on how we act next to a woman. Bringing a racial perspective, I have always observed how romanticism didn’t belong to black men. This was like showing weakness, being less of a man. I remember liking to write letters, I remember the other boys saying that this was not a coisa de homem (man thing). It was as if this was denied to me, love was denied me. I remember hearing countless times that “homens negros não são românticos” (black men are not romantic) and things like that. And that is one of the most rigid molds in the male world. Romanticism, the romantic lyric, is absolutely European. It doesn’t match the patterns of bestiality that these same Western standards relegate to black masculinity.
Caio remembers the letters he liked to write. Winnie remembers the letters she would like to have received and never received. While the meninas brancas (white girls), back in high school, were getting pretty notes, Winnie helped the boys demonstrate their interests. She wrote in the letters that were sent to her colleagues, that which she would like to read. The discovery of sexual and affective interests in school age, the narratives of mulheres negras (black women) about their being passed over in this environment, shows that from an early age we have the construction of an image about black women that fixes their social roles in sexual-affective relations. As servants, to serve in domestic activities, to serve fetishized sexual desires, but never to build solid relationships, after all, they are bodies without minds, in the words of bell hooks.
This idea, of a mindless body, is what underlies a series of patterns about relationships. And it is also what constitutes the phenomenon of palmitagem, these men who are constantly described as threats imprint on their unconscious that the affection of a white woman consensually destroys this paradigm. We know, therefore, that not only does it not eliminate it, it strengthens the contexts that represent black women as bodies-objects whose affection is not necessary. After all, if not even their equals are able to bond with these women, how will others do it?
When you add this to an imposed standard beauty, we may have the least notion of why black women are so abused. Black men taught that demonstrations of feeling are weaknesses; taught that relating to white women brings them a higher status in society, more value and respect among friends. Men, who for not seeing value in black women, deny themselves the demonstrations of feeling. Because loneliness is not only the absence of someone at your side, but also the devaluation of those who say they love us. It is also the one without the use of derogatory jokes, about hair, hips and moodiness. Homens negros que, ao odiarem mulheres negras, odeiam a si mesmos (black men who, hating black women, hate themselves). In this constant is that the social ascension of the black man connects itself with the choice of a white partner, even though of an inferior financial status. Obvious that this phenomenon in Brazil occurs in a mitigated way, the social ascent of black men is insignificant, it occurs almost exclusively from the same means. But to make invisible (the fact) that black men who achieve some social prestige, even if it is hypocritical, since whiteness does not recognize this prestige in a total way, whether in the midst of entertainment or in the academic world, give almost exclusive preference to relating to white women would be, at the least, dishonest.
The affectionate loneliness of the black woman expands. The permanent feeling of solitude is common for black women, to the point of being a constant. We know that we are meant for emotional solitude, yet we are at a time when strategies are being built among black women themselves to overcome the anguish of loneliness. Other forms of affection that are not based on these historical repetitions, but this is a conversation for another text.
The key here is to try, once again, insistently, to talk about the need for mutual recognition, for ways of achieving self-love between us and upon us. The full appreciation of your equal, the consolidation of forms of love that establish themselves from the possibility of affection by the feeling of affection, and only for that. An affection in which the appreciation of negritude is possible. Loving not for interest, not for being with someone who gives us, before society, a value that is empowering of our wills as subjects, of all of them. Love for love of ourselves. Love for self-love.
Source: Medium.com / @winniebueno
Note: Examples of this stereotype are numerous in Brazil as well as on a global level. For examples in terms of representations in Brazil’s media
SUMMARY:Ivar and Reader have been close all of their lives and reader knows of Ivar’s feelings for them.
WARNINGS:Fluff, Short, My writing is so cringy.
Your eyes flutter closed gently as the cool air of the sea brushes over your skin causing a tingly sensation to come over you. The morning was crisp – it was almost spring but still the remnants of winter still haunted the shore’s of Kattegat. You let out a content sigh as you bathed in what sun that did peak through the clouds before allowing your eyes to reopen and watch the sky.
You loved to look at the sky, but your best friend – Prince Ivar – found it boring. He made it quite obvious that watching the colour of the sky change was not something he found particularly interesting, but yet he joined you every time you laid in the tall grass to watch it for yourself.
The sigh that escaped Ivar’s lips was not as soft and wistful as yours one, and you could tell that he had already grown restless. When you payed no attention to him he sighed again, louder this time, and an amused smile playing at your lips. “May I help you?” You inquired softly.
“Must I ask again what you find so interesting about this damned sky?” He sat up slightly to rest his weight on his elbows. “Or will you still not tell me?”
“I’ll have you know the gods crafted this beautiful sky just for me.” You protested, moving to the same position he just had.
He rolled his eyes lightly, smirking at you. “Just for you, huh?”
You smiled back, biting your lip gently. “It was a gift.”
He nodded, playing along with your silly game. “A gift,” Ivar said with mock interest in his tone. “Do tell, Y/N, why would the gods would give you such a gift?”
“Because,” You rolled on your side to face him. “I asked them to.” You explained. “I said to them ‘Gods, give me something to remind me of my love while I patiently wait for him to fight the battle in his heart.’ And the gods gave me the sky.”
Ivar tried to hide the jealousy in his voice as he spoke, maintaining himself enough to ask you a question. “And how does the sky remind you of your love?”
You laid back in the grass, smiling brightly. “It is unpredictable.” You continued, growing more and more entertained as you watched him struggle to keep composure. “Sometimes it is sweet and warm and oh-so vibrant, other times it is cold and pale, and my favourite is when it storms, and Thor sends lightning shooting through it. It is indescribable. It reminds me of a side of him that is angry, a side he sometimes cannot control.”
“Oh?” He egged you on, plucking bits of grass from the ground.
“And they made it the colour of his eyes, so when I look at it, I don’t feel lonely.”
“Why must you wait for him then?” He asked as you shut your eyes once more, it being his turn to turn on his side to face you. “What is this battle he fights?”
You smirked lightly. “You are afraid to tell me you love me.” You replied, shrugging simply.
Ivar’s eyes went wide. “Me?” He scoffed.
“Yes you.” You chuckled. “You have always been unable to hide a single thing you have ever felt from me. You are in love with me and you are afraid of that.”
“I am not.” He sat up straight. “I am not afraid of anything.”
“Yes, and Floki is not a ship builder, and Aslaug is not your mother.” You jabbed, laughing lightly.
“You are amused?” Ivar raising his eyebrow.
“Slightly.” You admitted. “There are two men that live inside you, Ivar. The one who loves me and the one who hates yourself for it. Seeing how they fight each other is entertaining.”
“I hate you.” Ivar tried to hold back his laughter, failing miserably.
- yo yo yo this is my first story whoop! sorry it has a few sad parts in it lol its all i could think of. i hope you all enjoy it and feel free to request a scenario w any of the svt members!!! ♡
-1559 words -fluff with a hint of sadness
study! study! study! thats all i heard from everyone. from my parents who pressured me to be better than everyone else. from my teachers who labeled me as their star student. from my few friends who just wanted the best for me. it was all tiring though. i never had free time. i never had random friday night get togethers with someone. i was always alone with silent tears and studying.
my current thoughts consumed my entire mind until the sound of the classroom door opening disrupted those oh so “pleasant” thoughts.
“Mr. Chwe. Late again I see. Must I have to call your parents?” asked Mrs. Smith with obvious annoyance lacing every word.
Leia introduce Luke to Lando in the Falcon, and tell Lando why Vader was looking for Luke (or why she thought Vader was looking for him anyway) very pointedly, to remind him that it’s his fault Luke is in this state and that she’s still very angry with him
and Lando feels guilty because Luke really doesn’t look so good, so he tries to defuse the situation how he knows best by complimenting Luke (and flirting just a little because the guy’s cute ok sue him)
“So you’re the pilot who destroyed the Death Star ?” and then with an appreciative smile “No one said you were so beautiful”
and Luke, ok, Luke just had his encounter with Vader and is all bloodied and injured and he’s pretty out of sort and also more important he’s not as used to being complimented that way unlike Leia and Lando’s smile is very nice so he kind of just freeze and looks at Lando incredulously and then blushes and stutter when he tries to say thank you
and Lando feels even worse now, he thought that Luke would either laugh or glare at him, he didn’t expect the guy to be so shocked and didn’t want to make thing even more awkward
so he just kind grip Luke’s shoulder, catch his eyes and tell him with every once of sincerity he has in his body
both for the inappropriate flirting and for helping Vader set a trap to catch him is left unsaid
but for a moment Luke feels like Lando is commiserating with him about Vader being his father and he suddenly really wants to burst into tears and get hugged by the beautiful man with the nice smile
but that would be even more awkward and require several explanations he’s not prepared to give so instead of that he simply duck his head and tell Lando that it’s ok and that he understands
and he does
he probably should feel angry he knows
he can feels Leia anger hanging like a stormy cloud over the room
but he has pretty much exhausted all his emotions right now and he can see things logically, and Lando had to protect his city
either way it’s not his fault
it was Fa-Vader’s
That’s pretty much when the shock hit Luke again and his eyes become unfocussed and his breath hitch and it becomes clear to the others that Luke isn’t really there with them anymore
Luke miss Lando watching him with concern, and Leia pushing him into a seat and Chewbaca’s mournful moan, and Lando putting his cape on his shoulder when he starts to shiver
but later on, he’ll realize that he still have the cape and when he’ll knock on Lando’s door to give it back he’ll remember Lando smiling at him and calling him beautiful, and feel a small flutter of nervousness and excitement in his stomach
Could you please do prompt #14 with botw zelink? I loved their chemistry in the game and I know you can do them justice ❤👍
This nails them to a ‘T’ in my opinion. Whether it’s botw or another game, I feel this hits they’re characters well enough for me to not have to strain so much to stay in character.
Thank you, I’m going to enjoy this :3
Zelda walked pristinely with her head down in long, slow strides down her castle halls.
Link, being ever faithful, remained close behind her.
This wasn’t new to them. After her father had ordered her to fixate the rest of her time on her prayers, she was soon found moping around the castle, having come back from previous praying.
She remained silent, almost as silent as the dusk, as the sun began to set.
Link kept up her pace, but looked down.
Something inside him told him something was wrong,… and he should say something.
Often remaining silent about his feelings upon everything, he wondered how long she would remain under silence…
The silence wasn’t new to him, but he knew it was silently paining her inside.
She was usually cheerful about the things she liked.
He stopped walking a moment, and Zelda broke her stride, turning behind her.
He remained looking to the side, outside the window, spotting something that completely took over his interests.
She paused a moment, before turning around, her dress carrying the motion. “What’s wrong, Link..? What do you see?” she turned to the window, and then back to Link, walking towards him.
“Has something caught your eye?”
He continued to stare…
Suddenly, he rushed forward, startling Zelda. “Ah! Link!” she faltered back, before stumbling to rebalance herself and ran towards the window.
He placed a foot up on the ledge, and jumped, looking determined as he flew downward with his arms out wide.
“Liiink!” she rammed herself against the edge of the windowsill, and looked around, worried.
When she saw him rushing to the garden, her eyes widened in shock, not sure what he was doing, and quickly darted to the stairs, lifting her dress up and hurrying to find out-
“What on earth had possessed you to-!?” she looked pretty angry, but mostly surprised and panicked with worry, before stopping in mid-sentence and stride, lifting a hand up.
Link had picked a flower for her.
He held it with a neutral expression on his face, then nodded his head and walked towards her.
Bending to one knee, he ducked his head and held it out for her to accept.
Her eyes delicately stared down in wonder at the flower, before smiling kindly and tilting her head, understanding his true intent.
“Link…” she drew forth her hand, and lightly took the flower from his hand, barely skimming her fingers against his own.
He lightly blushed from the sensation of it, but with his head down, no one could tell.
He rose it up, as if half expecting her to acknowledge it, but knew he was probably just thinking oddly and shook his head, quickly getting up from kneeling.
He readjusted himself as she smiled even more warmly towards the flower, and held it up to her nose.
“…Link, have you been paying attention to my herbal lessons?” She tilted her head, a slightly cheeky look coming on her face.
He honestly didn’t know what she was talking about, and put a hand up behind his head, scratching it.
“Hmm… I guess not.” she turned around, facing her back to him.
“..This flower… is called Love Eternal.”
“Wa-ah!” he seemed to trip on her words, before regaining himself.
Had he just accidentally confessed!?
She giggled lightly, a breathy one, before lightly touching the petals of the flower.
“It’s said that when women are too shy to say it, since the tradition has always stood that men do those honors first… that they plant these in their gardens and flowerbeds… a silent invitation for him to propose.”
She lightly turned her head back to Link, nodding some comfort to him, but still teasing him.
“I assumed you didn’t know. It’s alright. I thought it was very cute, and awfully funny of you. Thank you… Link. It did make me feel better.”
Her kindness… her gentle reassurance not to worry…
His shoulders fell as he lowered his arm from being raised, and looked down, nodding in his embarrassment.
“Please, don’t act so modest. I honestly felt flattered.” Zelda closed her eyes and smiled, nodding another reassurance for him not to worry.
“Now then.” she lowered her hands, keeping the flower tightly in one of them.
She regained her natural dignity, and looked seriously back to the castle. “Father has forbidden me to leave the castle walls if not for the sole purpose of my prayers… we should return before he suspects us of any treason against his words…”
Link looked up.
He realized how much she held back.. the true pain at saying those words.
Even his adventurous spirit felt trapped and coped up here… but it was more than just tolerable, because he was protecting the princess.
So long as he had the princess….
On her way to her quarters, Link stopped once again.
“…” Zelda turned her head once more, “Link,…”
He looked out the window.
“..You’re not planning to jump out of the window again are you?” Zelda smiled, turning around, “I swear, Link.” she giggled, “You almost gave me a heart attack last time.”
He looked back at her, and smiled kindly, before looking apologetic.
He then lowered his head.
He closed his eyes, deeply looking troubled and saddened.
“…What ever is the matter?”
Zelda walked back towards him, and waited in front of him.
When his eyes slowly opened, but didn’t look to her, she lightly raised a hand, but never fully touched him.
He looked up, following the gesture.
“…I know you’re worried about me.” Zelda looked understanding, and with every ounce of a gentle loving friend, she spoke again, “And I must ask you to keep enduring for me.”
“A-ah…” he voiced out, stepping to balance himself more.
She looked down, turning her head away, and placing her hand holding the flower up against her chest.
“I understand you feel at a loss… wanting to help me, but not being able to disobey orders.”
He held his stare, but closed his mouth tightly.
“I’m sorry, Link… I truly do hope you know…” she looked back up at him, her pleasant face always sending a feeling through him… but he just wasn’t sure what to call it.
His eyes quickly darted to the flower, before blinking back up at her fast as instantly as he had glanced.
“I enjoyed the confession today.” She mischievously beamed.
She laughed, seeing his over-exaggerated expression.
She held another hand over her mouth, bending down and then slowly coming back up, enjoying his hilarious expression and reaction.
“Oh, Link! Haha, forgive me, haha! I couldn’t help but repeat myself again. Haha!”
She was smiling… she was genuinely laughing… at least that was enough.
Link continued to turn, embarrassed.
Later that night, as she slept silently in her bed, Link stood by her window.
He held his sword out in front, down to the floor, as his hands rested on it’s hilt.
In the shadows, he turned from his position of guarding to stare at her a moment… and the Love Eternal flower, glistening in the moonlight.
He slowly walked over to it.
Then bent down by Zelda’s side, looking over at her calm, peacefully sleeping face.
He leaned down, a quiet voice in her dreams…
“What if… I did..?”
She lightly stirred as wind passed by her ear.
the curtains of the open balcony window lightly draped over the moonlight, revealing the beautiful landscape of Hyrule outside.
The flower lightly dropped a petal from it’s watery glass.
Zelda felt something warm and slightly moist upon her cheek, but never spoke of the dreamed voice sense.
(Got a little AU at the end there. I should have just ended with, instead of ‘what if I did?’ to “Always” huh? May have kept it fully in character canon, lol)
ok i love your peggy???? i love how important she is to you???? i love??? that she isnt relegated to being a simple love interest???? she's so vivid and she loves sharon more than anything which is so important to me. im in love
l had to reread this because this is a rare. like usually i get shitty anons or anons that question my every move. but wow.. this made my day! so thank you!! ahh !! and per usual this is gonna be a long ass fuck answer because i don’t know when to shut up.
i love peggy carter so much. like i shit on marvel a lot, but they did give me her so i guess that’s a good thing? but not enough. and i’ve always seen this weird perception with strong woman and honestly i wanted to write a complex character that is strong and just a complete badass but has times of weakness because that’s beautiful and human.
even if this blog was canon compliant ( oh god. the very thought of it makes me shudder ) peggy would still fucking care about sharon. she’s family. and the fandom’s take and just hatred for such a beautiful female character is really gross, anti-feminist, and just all around awful.
honestly if peggy carter taught us anything it’d be to respectall women. that every woman, no matter who they are, what race they are from, what their sexuality is, they deserve fucking respect. it doesn’t matter if she wants to be a ceo, or a badass or just a mother. you know how hard it is being a mother?!?! my mother is honestly one of my personal hero, her story as an immigrant is fucking amazing. so, don’t be on the wrong side of history, support the ladies and give them the respect that they fucking deserve.
This whole episode just seems so much like Alison playing another big game with the Liars. She spends the whole night leading them around Ravenswood, only to end up back in Spencer’s yard, miles away. If she knew they were looking for her, which she must have, why not save them the trouble of chasing her around for hours and just reveal herself to them as soon as possible? What harm would that have done?
What the hell is this message? Are we supposed to think that Alison wrote this? That’s odd, considering no one is actually after her or trying to hurt her. Could she have written this note as another way of tricking the Liars into thinking she’s in danger?
And again I must ask…what the hell is this recording? That’s obviously Ali, but once again, this doesn’t make any sense because no one is actually after her, and no one ever has been. Who was she talking to or about, what friends was she referring to, and why haven’t we gotten an answer? This whole thing screams cliche and fake.
Alison peering through the window at Hanna is really suspicious, too. She’s grabbed by the gas mask person, whether Ezra or someone wearing the same costume, and that person apparently just lets her go immediately without doing anything? And they both vanish before Miranda enters moments later, without any harm coming to Ali? Unlikely. It’s so obvious to me at this point that Alison has been orchestrating all of this, setting up the narrative through the “help me” message, the frightened recording, and now this, that she’s in dire trouble.
How did Alison get back to Rosewood so quickly? Ravenswood is at least a few towns over, and yet by the time the girls get back, she’s waiting for them. That would be impossible on foot. She must have had help…like other members of the A team, perhaps?
What does she mean, about Hanna and the hospital? She must be referring to the girls knowing what happened to her “that night,” which is completely untrue and she knows it. Once again, Ali is perpetrating all sorts of lies about what happened to her, almost like she’s doing it on purpose.
Requested by emnat123-
Damian goes with the bat boys on a mission to kick bad guys butt in the Balkans and falls for a 18 year old girl who lives there and like stuff happens and he wants her to come back with him to Gotham (can he be like 20?)
Author’s Note: I did my best to make everything accurate, but if anything is incorrect, please send me a message and I’ll adjust it. Accuracy is important, and I would appreciate the assistance.
“Come on, Damian, smile a little. This is practically a vacation,” Dick cheered as he collapsed into his airplane seat next to Damian’s. Damian growled when his seat rattled from Dick’s movement.
“TT, I would hardly call preventing Bane’s drug empire from entering the Balkans a vacation, Grayson,” Damian retorted. He pulled out his iPod and earbuds, hoping it would be a sign to Dick to stop talking to him.
Dick was oblivious however. “Shh, keep your voice down. Remember we are undercover,” Dick warned, tugging one of Damian’s earbuds out from his ear. Damian glared at him.
“I don’t understand why we have to do this? Isn’t international crime more of the league’s territory?” Damian asked quietly as other passengers stumbled passed on the way to their own seats in the crowded plane.
“Well, yeah,” Dick agreed, rolling his eyes. “But Bruce wanted to keep it in the family since it’s Bane. He said something about responsibility, but I think it’s mostly because he’s upset with the league at the moment.” Damian hummed in response, turning to look out the window at the airport around them. He silently wished he had been paired with Tim or Jason instead, they were quieter. Tim and Jason were flying out a week later to avoid suspicion.
Luckily for Damian. Dick started talking to another passenger in
Romani, leaving Damian in peace for a moment. He placed his other earbud back into his ear as he thought about the mission to come.
Damian wasn’t excited for this mission as Dick was. He found he didn’t want to leave Gotham. It wasn’t like he had never left Gotham before since making it his home, but he found he didn’t like leaving it. He wanted to be in Gotham, he wanted to be at home. Taking a deep breath, Damian found a song to calm his nerves as the plane readied for takeoff.
After spending eleven hours in a plane and another ten hours in a car with Dick, Damian was relieved to finally arrive at the safe house. It was the first of several safe houses set up for the mission throughout the Balkans region as Dick, Damian, Tim, and Jason investigated and terminated Bane’s drug trafficking ring.
Of course, Damian wasn’t native enough to assume Dick would leave him in peace once they arrived.
“Come on, Dami. Let’s got sightseeing,” Dick begged, hopping onto Damian’s bed. Damian was trying to sleep off the jet lag.
“Grayson, get off my bed,” Damian demanded, snuggling deeper under the covers. He heard Dick sigh behind him before the covers were suddenly ripped from him. “Grayson!”
“Get up, Damian. We can sleep after we walk around some,” Dick insisted, dodging the pillow Damian threw at him. “Besides you have to stay awake, so you can adjust to the time zone.”
“TT,” Damian huffed before slowly sitting up. “I don’t see why we have to adjust to the time zone when we will be working at random hours anyway.”
Dick tossed the pillow and the covers back onto the bed. “Where is your sense of adventure, Damian? I would have jumped at this chance to explore a foreign country when I was twenty.”
“Maybe I’m not adventurous,” Damian muttered quietly to himself, dragging himself to a standing position. He was still dressed in the clothes from the plane.
Dick rolled his eyes, pushing Damian towards the bathroom while stuffing fresh clothes into his arms. “Now get changed. I want to get some sightseeing done before Tim and Jason arrive.”
“TT, I can’t wait,” Damian commented under his breath as he entered the bathroom. He made sure to lock the door behind him, enjoying the few minutes alone.
An hour later, Damian was able to lose Dick when he went home with the waitress that flirted with him. Given this surprise at freedom, Damian had planned to walk around a bit before heading back to the safe house to sleep. The city interested him in a way he didn’t expect, and besides he reasoned he was simply getting his bearings before the investigation started.
It was that decision that changed his life forever.
Damian found himself walking down a pedestrian street when he saw you. You exited one of the shops and walked towards him with a heavy load of bags in your arms. Damian found his eyes glued to you as you walked passed him without much more than a glance. You hurried down the street with such a speed, you didn’t notice the raised pavement in your path until it was too late.
Seeing what was about to happen, Damian sprang into action. He ran to you, catching you before you were sent sprawling onto the pavement.
You gasped in surprise before turning to see who saved you only to find yourself gazing into beautiful blue eyes. Damian found himself captured within your eyes as well. After a moment, you forced yourself to look away, whispering a thank you in your native language. When you saw his face twist in confusion, you switched to English.
“I said thank you,” you restated, giving him a shy smile before checking the contents of your bags to make sure everything was alright. Damian smirked at you, a thrill twirled in his gut at the sound of your accent.
“You’re welcome,” he answered, taking in the beauty of your face. “May I help you with your bags?” Damian held out his hand as you smiled gratefully at him.
“Yes, you can,” you replied, handing him half of the bags. “Just be careful, the contents are fragile.”
“What is your name?” Damian asked, taking the heavy bags with ease. You began to walk down the street with Damian matching your pace.
You smiled at him teasingly. “Are you always so forward when meeting someone on the street?”
“Only if that someone were to catch my interest,” he huffed, gazing at you with heat in his eyes. You giggled at him, blushing at his words.
“I caught your interest?” you teased back, feeling beautiful at the way he looked at you.
“Yes,”he answered simply as you both turned the corner to head down the street. “Now may I know your name?”
“My name is (Y/N).”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” Damian cooed back. You blushed even more, wrinkling your nose when he called you a woman. Since you were only eighteen, you were still adjusting to the idea of adulthood.
“And what is your name?” you questioned curiously. You guessed he was an American, judging by his accent, but you were unsure.
“Damian Wayne,” he replied, sending you a charming smirk. You both turned around another corner, stopping in front of a building with a sign in a different language. Damian could see people hurrying around inside through the window.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian Wayne,” you said, gesturing to the building. “This is where I was going.”
He looked at you with wonder. “TT,” he huffed, raising an eyebrow. “You live here?”
You laughed at his words, shaking your head. “No, this is where I work. We handle financial assents of foreign businesses within the country. My…” You paused, trying to find the right word. “…boss sent me out for a few things for the new client.”
“Oh,” Damian remarked, gazing at the store with investigative intentions. “Do you get new clients often?”
“No,” you answered innocently, not noticing his sudden interest in the business. “However, this client has the boss very…uptight. That is the right word, correct?” Damian nodded in reply. You smiled, proud of yourself. “Thank you for your help.” You took the bags from him. “I really must get inside.”
“Can I see you again?” Damian asked with a hint of desperation in his voice. You studied him, trying to understand his intentions. The idea of a American tourist wanting to see you again made you wonder about his intentions. You heard about Americans before.
Damian shifted uncomfortably, waiting for your answer. You tilted your head at him before giving him a tiny smile. “Maybe if you happen to be here at twelve o’clock tomorrow, I might happen to be free for an hour or so.” A smirk broke onto Damian’s face. You smiled back at him warmly, the blush still burning on your cheeks. “Goodbye, Damian Wayne,” you whispered, entering your workplace with only slight difficulty. Damian held the door before whispering to you in reply.
“Goodbye, (Y/N).” Then a moment later, you disappeared inside and Damian knew his life was never going to be the same.
“I can’t believe I spend over twenty-four hours trapped in a small space with stick-in-the-mud Tim while you were off getting laid,” Jason retorted as Tim and Dick sat around the kitchen table in the safe house, eating a makeshift breakfast even through it was almost five in the evening.
“Just because I didn’t let you drive around erratically doesn’t make me a stick-in-the-mud,” Tim protested, typing on his laptop. He paused to take a bite of toast before returning to it.
“Yes, it does Timmy,” Jason snapped back, turning to glare at Dick who was calmly eating his cereal. “What do you have to say for yourself, Dickhead?”
Dick slowly looked up at Jason, munching on his cereal. “I regret nothing.” Jason opened his mouth to reply, but Damian’s entrance into the room interrupted him.
“TT, I see the imbeciles have arrived,” Damian snorted, walking over to the sink to get a glass of water. The boys watched him with interest.
“Dami,” Dick began after trading an amused glance with Jason. “Is that lipstick on your face?” Damian’s eyes widened as he rubbed his cheek. You had just kissed him there five minutes ago when he walked you home from work.
“No,” Damian replied hurriedly, trying to leave the room, but Jason blocked his way.
“I can’t believe this. You both got laid when we’re supposed to be on a mission,” Jason scolded with a glint in his eye. “I hope Bruce doesn’t find out about this.”
A rage built up on Damian’s face that he had never really felt before. “I did not get laid, Todd. I respect women and myself enough that I will not commit a ‘one-night stand’ just for company. (Y/N) deserves more than that.” Damian froze when he revealed your name.
“(Y/N)?” Dick asked, standing up to study Damian. “Damian, are you in love?”
Damian blushed, ducking his head down while trying to fight his urge to kill both Jason and Dick. Tim was safe simply because he was ignoring the whole conversation in favor of his laptop. “TT.”
“Our little boy is growing up,” Dick cooed, pulling Damian into a hug. Damian tried to get away from him, but he found himself trapped in the corner of the kitchen.
“Let go of me, Grayson,” Damian protested as Jason snickered at the sight.
“Wait until Bruce finds out about this,” Jason chuckled, accepting Damian’s threatening glare. “He’s really going to freak out to find out his little boy fell in love during a mission.”
“Shut up, Todd,” Damian gasped as Dick tightened his hold, pulling the breath from his lungs. “Is this really necessary, Grayson?”
Dick pulled away, meeting Damian’s intense glare. “Yes, I think it is,” Dick explained. “I was always worried about you since you never seemed to feel any romantic interest towards anyone. Which is okay, but I was scared you would end up alone.” Dick pulled him back into a hug.
“TT,” Damian snorted, not wanting to reveal he was worried about it too. However, meeting you changed all of that.
“I think I found Bane,” Tim interrupted, finally looking up from his laptop to see Dick hugging Damian. “Did I miss something?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Damian’s in love with some girl,” he explained, flicking Tim in the forehead. “Pay attention.”
Tim swaddled Jason’s hand away. “Sorry, I was trying to find Bane. You know? The reason we came here in the first place.” Tim and Jason glared at each other before Dick stepped between them to keep the peace.
“What did you find, Tim?” Dick asked as Damian stayed in the corner, rubbing the lipstick on his cheek.
“I have a security video placing Bane in one of the local warehouses, and I found some records at a local financial business that tie Bane to the location,” Tim informed, typing on his computer to place the evidence on the screen. Dick leaned over his shoulder to see.
“It looks legit, but we should investigate tonight just to be sure before we call in the local authorities,” Dick ordered, straightening to look at Jason and Damian. Damian was looking at the floor, embarrassed by the fact he had walked around with lipstick on his cheek.
“Sound good to me,” Jason replied gruffly before sending a teasing smirk towards Damian. “What about you, ‘lover-boy’?”
Damian growled menacingly before attacking Jason. Jason laughed, running from the room as Damian chased after him with the intention to kill. Dick and Tim simply shook their heads at each other before going back to planning the night’s activities.
Later that night, Damian found himself slipping into a warehouse in his Robin suit. He had volunteered to enter the building first if only to get away from Jason’s teasing. Damian didn’t see why it was so funny that he could be romantically interested in someone.
Entering the building through a opening in the roof, Damian moved silently along the rafters. The warehouse appeared to be empty, but just when Damian was about to signal the others, a scream echoed throughout the building. Damian flinched at the sound before heading in the direction of the scream.
Much to Damian’s horror, he found the source to be a young woman tied to a chair with Bane towering over her. His goons surrounded her as the woman spoke rapidly in one of the local native languages. Damian’s brow furrowed, he couldn’t fully see the woman because Bane was blocking his view.
“Bane is in the building, and we have a hostage situation,” Damian reported through his comlink. He heard someone sigh through the other end.
“Of course, he does. When does Bane not take a hostage?” Jason snorted through the com.
“Hush, Hood. What’s your position, Robin?” Dick ordered.
“Center of the building,” Damian answered sharply. He growled when one of the goons slapped the woman across the face.
“Okay, we’ll be there soon. Don’t act until we get there,” Dick instructed with a warning in his voice. Damian rolled his eyes at the tone. Sometimes Dick treated him as if he was still ten years old.
Damian watched the goon slap the woman again. This time she spoke in English. “Please, I am only a secretary, let me go. I am not a threat, I will not tell anyone about you. Please let me go,” the woman begged. Her accented words caught Damian’s interest as he recognized the voice.
As if by fate, Bane moved out of Damian’s line of sight allowing him to receive the shock of his life. Damian nearly died when he saw it was you tied to the chair. Your face was bruised, your clothes were torn. Tears fell down your cheeks as you begged for your life.
“It’s (Y/N),” Damian reported harshly through the comlink as he jumped down. “I’m going in.” He landed on top of one of the goons before springing into action. Dick’s voice cried out at him through the comlink, but Damian ripped it out of his ear.
Damian fought with a brutality he hadn’t used since he first started out as Robin ten years before. He didn’t remember how everything happened, because he was so focused with his rage at the idea that you were hurt. These people didn’t have the right to touch you, and Damian was going to make them aware of that.
Sooner than expected, the goons were lying on the ground. They groaned and bled around him, but Damian ignored them as his attention solely focused on you.
You kept your eyes squeezed shut when the violence started. Tears slipped out of your eyes anyway, streaming down your cheeks as you tried to keep your sobs quiet. Damian knelt down in front of you to cut your bonds with a batarang.
“(Y/N)…you’re safe now,” Damian whispered soothingly when you still didn’t open your eyes. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
You recognized Damian’s voice, slowly opening your eyes. Confusion clouded your face when you saw a masked man instead. “Who are you?”
Damian’s eyes widened, realizing he was in his Robin costume. “I’m…um…Robin.” You leaned closer to him while he pulled you into a standing position. He kept your hand in his.
“Damian Wayne, is that you?” you asked, the realization hitting you like a cup of cold water. He covered your mouth with his hand.
“Shh, we’ll talk about this later,” he hushed, gesturing to the door at the far side of the room. “Let’s get you out of here first.”
“Robin,” Dick scolded, running to Damian’s side. He took a glance at you before focusing on Damian. Damian stepped in front of you, hiding you behind him protectively when he saw you flinched at Dick’s tone. “You were told to wait until we arrived.”
“TT,” Damian huffed as he felt you burying your face into his back. “It couldn’t wait.” Dick glared at Damian. Damian matched his glare, and was about to say more when you slumped against his back. “(Y/N)?”
“Woah there, Princess,” Jason remarked, appearing behind Damian to scoop you up. You blinked bewilderingly for you had blacked out for a second only to find yourself in the arms of a red-helmeted man. “Don’t you pass out, you might freak your poor lover boy out.”
Damian turned his glare onto Jason as Tim dropped down from the ceiling. Your eyes grew wide as you took in the sight of all of them. You had heard of the American heroes before, but you had never seen them before. “Bane got away. He ran once Damian showed up,” Tim reported, giving Damian an annoyed look. “However, I was able to hack his computer. This is his only setup within the Balkans, however.”
“Good,” Dick replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “At least we got something out of this.”
“I will not apologize for saving (Y/N),” Damian defended, taking you out of Jason’s arms. You relaxed within his hold, wrapping your arms around your neck. Not knowing what to make of everything, you chose to simply close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. “She needs medical attention.”
“Yeah, we should get out of here anyway. The local police will be here any minute,” Tim added, bringing up his wrist computer.
Dick sighed, looking at how tightly Damian held you. He knew that if he even suggested leaving you here Damian would throw a fit. “Alright, let’s get back to the house.”
“They broke into my house after my boss refused to work with them,” you explained. You were sitting with Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian at the kitchen table in the safe house with a cup of coffee in your hands. They checked you over, judging that you only had a few bruises and a mild concussion, so they felt you were well enough for questioning. Damian protested against it, but he was outnumbered. “They blew it up after they dragged me outside.”
Damian scooted closer to you at your words, placing his hand on top of yours. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I should have known,” he apologized, leaning into you. You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying his warmth.
“It is not your fault, Damian. You did not know,” you soothed, opening your eyes to see the other men staring at you in wonder. You blushed, ducking your head down. “They blew up the office too, and murdered my boss.” You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears. “Afterwards, they took me to the warehouse where you found me.”
You all fall silent for a moment while a few rogue tears escaped your eyes. “We’ll try to help you in any way we can, (Y/N),” Dick promised, noting the exhaustion in your eyes. He made eye contact with Damian. “Damian will take you somewhere you can rest.” Damian nodded before helping you stand.
“Thank you,” you said. Your heart warmed a little when you received a bright smile from Dick.
“We are the ones that should be thanking you, (Y/N),” Dick replied, shifting his gaze from you to Damian and back again. You blushed at the insinuation.
“TT,” Damian huffed as a blush also appeared onto his cheeks. He tried to get you out of the room before anyone else spoke, but Jason’s voice followed you.
“Make sure to use protection. The last thing we need is a little Damian running around.”
Damian coughed in response while you found a smile upon your lips for the first time that day. You both walked down the hallway until you reached one of the bedrooms. Damian led you inside, guiding you to sit on the bed before he started digging through a suitcase.
“Here,” he said, handing you a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Judging by the size, you knew they were his. You smiled at him before gesturing for him to turn his back. He blushed, following your request.
“Do all Americans live double lives?” you asked as you changed out of your torn, dirty clothes into Damian’s clean ones.
“No,” Damian answered hesitantly. “Just my family mostly.”
“Why do you?” you replied, tapping him on the shoulder to let him know you were done changing. He turned around, swallowing hard at how good you looked in his clothes.
“We do it to help people, to save lives, to protect justice,” Damian explained as you sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Damian to sit beside you. He took your hand before sitting down beside you. “It’s like we have the ability to help people, so we have the responsibility to do it.”
You giggled at his words. “With great power comes great responsibility.” Damian smirked at you before rolling his eyes.
“I am not Spiderman,” he protested, squeezing your hand gently. You kissed his cheek. “TT.”
Meeting his gaze, you lost yourself. The connection between the two of you burned and simmered until you found your lips locked with his. Fireworks exploded through your mind, your body tingled in a way it never had before.
You broke apart a moment later, out of breath. The desire and longing in Damian’s eyes was reflected in your own, but you controlled yourselves. Aches from your bruises reminded you that you weren’t ready. Damian had a similar revelation, choosing to stand up from the bed to create some distance between you.
He shifted around uncomfortably before facing you again with a intensity that you hadn’t seen in him before. “(Y/N), I care about you deeply.”
“I care about you too, Damian,” you replied with a smile as you touched your lips. They still tingled from the pressure of his lips.
“I know this is sudden, and you have every reason to refuse,” Damian continued. He paced in front of you, wringing his hands. “But would you consider coming back to America with me?”
You felt your mouth drop open in shock as your mind went blank. “I…I do not know,” you whispered, trying to restart your brain.
“I’m only asking, because we probably won’t be here for much longer and I can’t stand the idea of not being able to see you everyday. I literally shake at the thought of leaving you here,” Damian ranted, dropping to his knees in front of you. “I know this is a big decision, and I shouldn’t have dropped this onto you with everything you had just been through, but I can’t stop myself.”
You studied him, finding his intentions to be pure. Suddenly, your brain started working again. “I will, because I can not stand the thought of not seeing you everyday too.” A genuine smile broke out on Damian’s face as he hugged you with all his strength. The breath was forced out of your lungs, but you didn’t mind.
He pulled back after a long moment to gently push you back into bed. “Rest, I’ll take care of the arrangements.”
“But we are not leaving right away?” you asked with a slight panic in your voice. You still had to say goodbye to your friends and family, not to mention clean up the ruins of your destroyed house.
Damian paused, sensing your panic. “No, Beloved,” he said. You smiled at the pet name. “We won’t leave until we finished our mission, and even when that happens we won’t leave until you’re ready.”
“Good,” you yawned as your tiredness caught up with you. Your eyelids grew heavier with each second. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”
“Anything you want, Beloved,” Damian responded, kissing your forehead.
Unknown to both you and Damian, Dick, Jason, and Tim were standing outside of the bedroom door. Tim had a eavesdropping device attracted to the door, and was playing the conversation to Dick and Jason on a set of earbuds.
“I can’t believe he just asked her to come home with him,” Dick cooed with a toothy grin.
“I can’t believe she said yes,” Tim remarked, shaking his head. He knew he would be the one who would be figuring out the legal procedures to getting you into the country.
“Wait until Bruce finds out,” Jason chuckled. “He’s going to flip.” He turned to Tim. “We need to make sure we’re recording his reaction when he finds out.”
“Please as if I would overlook such a thing,” Tim replied sweetly as the boys abandoned the door of the now silent room to head back to the kitchen.