lizz

my sins will be posted here for the world to judge me | 21 | m.list

[livelovelizz]

masterlist

do not repost or claim work as your own. ➡ last updated 10.13.24

a collection of my works can be found here. feel free to reach out if you have any story ideas in mind! i'm always open to talk :)

[DC]

jason todd

now i'm no longer alone

↳comfort/fluff | 1.4k

dick grayson

you make you so easy

↳comfort/fluff | 1.3k

[DSMP]

captain puffy

love enough to drown it out

↳dreamsmp!au-- fluff | 1.2k

quackity

there's something tragic about you

↳dreamsmp!au-- hurt/comfort | 2.9k

[sundrop-writes]

King For A Day

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader

Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger

You want a martyr? I’ll be one.

Summary:

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter.

When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic.

Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too.

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 22,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is about the formation of a polyamarous relationship, and before that, the reader has individual friends with benefits relationships with each of the Golden Trio without them knowing about each other; there is dom/sub dynamics in this fic, but no explicit BDSM play - Hermione is a switch (bratty sub and controlling but soft dom), Ron is a rough, mean dom, Harry is a whiny, needy sub, and the reader is a switch - she is submissive with Ron and Hermione, but dominant towards Harry. While the reader is the one who connects all the characters here, there is definitely threads of Harry x Ron and Hermione x Ron and also Hermione x Harry going on here. (So there is wlw action and mlm action in this fic.)

Emotional angst - general emotional angst due to the circumstances (the Golden Trio + reader being pressured to save the world, the war going on, emotional and physical isolation during the Horcrux Hunt); mentions of food insecurity as was canon during the Horcrux Hunt; mentions of becoming thin from lack of food being available; mentions of hunting and killing for food; mentions of emotional disturbances due to the presence of the Horcrux Locket - everyone is affected, including the reader; the reader experiences severe depression and intrusive thoughts about self-harm while wearing The Locket (this is something that is a very small part of the story, about a paragraph); the reader is mentioned to be in Gryffindor but because this is a Horcrux Hunting fic that fact is easy to ignore and you can imagine the reader to be in whatever house you want; mentions of Ron and the reader being childhood friends/growing up together before Hogwarts (it is mentioned that they had their first kiss together when they were young); mentions of past Harry/Cho (as a very fleeting fling, as it was in the canon).

For the actual smut: unprotected sex all around? but hey they're wizards so we could just say that Hermione did some anti-pregnancy spells when they were done (but there's definitely no condoms involved); the reader masturbates/touches herself (very brief); the reader gets caught masturbating by Harry but they both pretend that he didn't see anything (or maybe he didn't); mentions of Harry, Ron, and Hermione masturbating (mentioned in passing); Ron being possessive over the reader, partially due to the Locket's emotional influence; slightly dubious consent - it's very clear in the narration that the reader enjoys everything that is happening, but Ron does not explicitly ask for consent, and while Harry watches on, he worries for her well being due to the roughness of the acts; Ron is very rough with the reader because the Locket amps up his anger and he takes out on her (through rough sex, not through overly harsh painplay or sexual torture); hair pulling (Ron pulls the reader's hair); rough kissing; biting/marking (Ron bites the reader so hard that he draws blood); Ron slaps the reader across the face (only once) but it adds sexual arousal for her; some manhandling (nothing that implies Ron is superhumanly strong or implies that the reader is dainty thin).

Vaginal fingering (Ron does this to the reader); undertones of humiliation kink (Ron teases Harry for not knowing 'how to fuck' and because he can supposedly fuck the reader better); literally one spank (from Ron to the reader); size kink (Ron Weasley has a big cock and everyone is admiring it); unprotected penis in vagina sex (between Ron and the reader) - very rough sex; Harry watches while Ron fucks the reader; Ron calls the reader 'cockwarmer' and 'good girl'; Hermione walks in on Ron fucking the reader (while Harry watches) and questions the consent of the situation (only for a moment) before she decides to join in; Hermione gropes the reader and fingers her; there is unprotected penis in vagina sex between Ron and Hermione and also between Harry and the reader; unintentional edging due to being passed from partner to partner (toward the reader); Ron is generally degrading/condescending toward all the other characters (he's kind of an asshole but it's hot and he is sweet afterwards); creampie kink (no breeding kink); overstimulation; multiple orgasms; mentions of anal sex (does not happen during the fic); Hermione eats the reader out, Harry sucks Ron off (mentions of 'choking' on a cock but there is no severe breathplay), cumplay.

Sex flashbacks - the reader cockwarms Harry (in a flashback); the reader riding Harry while being dominant with him; the reader uses Harry's Gryffindor tie like a leash; the reader 'teaching' Harry how to increase his stamina (really, it's just code for edging him/torturing him); the reader calls Harry 'darling'; in a separate flashback - Hermione and the reader have sex in the bathroom at the Burrow; so - semi-public sex; the reader eats Hermione's pussy; the reader fingers Hermione; Hermione presses on the reader's neck but does not choke her; Hermione calls the reader 'good girl'. I think that is FINALLY it.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song of the same title by Pierce The Veil. I think it's a song that so perfectly encapsulates the storyline around the Locket - how Ron makes himself into a martyr, how it feels like they are living with ghosts in the walls when they wear it. Anyway - I am so excited about this fic.

When the idea was presented to me: Ron being pissed off because of the Locket's influence, and feeling particularly jealous of Harry, it just felt so genius. Ron has always been one of my favourite HP characters, if not my singular favourite. When I first start reading and watching the series, I fell in love with Ron so quickly. I deeply related to him - his insecurities, his fears (how he doesn't try to act brave when he's scared), his stubbornness, his feelings of inadequacy.

This fic perfectly encapsulates my love for Ron, and with something I couldn't resist the urge to do (the whole 'childhood friends' thing) - my deep urge to be Ron Weasley's special girl has bubbled to the surface harder than ever before. But with maturity comes the urge to also want to be Harry Potter's special girl and Hermione Granger's special girl all at the same time and have them share me like a KitKat bar. So everyone please thank Orgy Anon for giving me this idea, and please enjoy the fic!!

Also, I didn't think I was ever gonna write more rough, demanding (kind of asshole) Ron smut after Caffeine Cold - but it's something that weirdly works for his character. It's something I actually really love writing with him, turns out lmao.

...

When you woke up that morning, there was a persistent, annoying ache between your legs. Even the bitter November chill that had seeped into the tent couldn’t dampen it. 

It was a strange and tedious thing. You were months into a perilous, life-threatening mission that would ultimately change the fate of the world, and yet, all you could seem to think about was the fact that you hadn’t been able to orgasm in weeks. You could blame it on the mental strain that the journey was causing on you and your companions - between the lack of food and the presence of a certain dark object weighing on you all, irritability among your small group was skyrocketing. And you were desperate for a distraction. 

But you had always been someone who was more inclined toward the physical - someone whose sexual needs stuck out as more important to you. It’s why you had three different partners regularly ‘servicing’ you for quite some time now. But you hadn’t been with any of them since the start of your travels, and it felt like far too long. It felt like forever. 

You reached down and palmed your cunt through your cotton sleep pants, hissing quietly through your nose at even the slightest bit of relief. You listened to Ron’s heavy snores and Hermione’s quiet breaths, knowing that Harry was out of the tent on his watch. If you could be quick about it, you could cum. You clamped the other hand over your mouth, ready to silence your own moans as you moved your own touch past your waistband. You let out a sharp whine into your own palm as your fingers found your clit through your cotton underwear. 

It had been so long. 

And just by that fact alone, your pussy was aching, wet, and needy. You began to rub circles on yourself through your underwear, feeling your cunt clenching around nothing, so damn needy to be filled up, and- 

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice whispered your name frantically through the dark. 

The sound instantly startled you, causing your lungs to seize up and your heart to race all at once. You stopped moving your hand upon instinct, feeling terribly caught. 

It was lucky that he hadn’t lit his wand, clearly not wanting to wake up Ron or Hermione, or you most definitely would have been caught outright, even though your hand was under the blanket - your actions still would have been blatant to the eye. 

“Are you alright? I thought - I thought I heard a noise.” Harry whispered when you didn’t respond. 

You quickly cleared your throat, taking your hand away from your mouth and slowly moving your other hand out of your pants as you found the glinting lenses of Harry’s glasses looking at you in the dark. 

“I’m fine.” You croaked quietly. “I - I was just stretching. This cot is terrible on my back, you know.” 

You hoped that you could pass off any sexual sounds that had escaped you as sounds of pain, soreness from poor sleeping conditions. 

Harry nodded. 

“Right.” He said quietly. “Well - it’s your watch.” He announced as he sat down on his own cot and began taking off his boots. 

You didn’t say anything further, but simply got up. 

You changed out of your pyjama pants and into a thicker pair of cargo pants, wanting to shield yourself against the cold. As you undressed, you were completely uncaring to shield yourself from Harry’s eyes in the dark. He was likely too tired to keep his eyes open, and it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see too much of you anyway. And if he did look, you didn’t care too much anyway. 

He watched you completely unabashed, squinting hard through the darkness, utterly focused on the shape of your ass moving around as you looked for thicker socks and gathered a notebook to write in to pass the time. 

He only wished that he could see more than the silhouette of your ass covered by white cotton panties as you moved in the shadows, pulling your pants up, and then left the tent. He went to sleep with his cock hard, thinking about pressing himself up against those cotton knickers, dirtying the fabric with his cum - thinking about hearing you whine like that again. 

…

You didn’t think that tracking down and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes was going to be easy by any means. 

But you didn’t think that it was going to be this tedious and boring. You knew that there were a great many wizards out there who yearned for your head on a platter. People who would have captured you in a moment and tortured you until your dying breath just for a chance to hear you give up information on Harry Potter’s whereabouts. But it was difficult to feel the urgency of the life threatening situation you were in when you were living in such seclusion. 

It was difficult to feel anything other than the crushing weight of loneliness and depression, living like this. 

For nearly three months now, you, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been living in a tent, picking up and travelling from place to place with the effort to be as isolated as possible so that no one would be able to find you. But this meant that no one you loved could know where you were either. 

No owls, no contact with anyone else in the outside world - you went from day to day, not knowing if they were safe or not, waiting to hear their names on the obituaries, or the missing persons listings on the radio. 

All of you had been living off scraps of food because you couldn’t even go to the shops for fear of being seen. You had been living off the canned food Hermione had squirrelled away before the trip, and you had been reduced to stealing - nicking eggs from chicken coops in hopes that the owners wouldn’t notice. Luckily, some things from your childhood had come back around, and you had been able to snare some rabbits for food, as much as Hermione cried and tried to pretend she didn’t hate killing something so cute and innocent in order to eat it. 

So far, the only real progress the four of you had made in terms of truly defeating Voldemort? You had gotten a hold of the real Locket of Slytherin. But you had no clue how to destroy it. 

This left you stuck with the incredibly dark piece of magic. The four of you took turns wearing the Locket - even though it hadn’t taken Hermione long to observe that the object had some kind of dangerous emotional aura due to the dark magic that tainted it. But you were unable to simply leave it laying around somewhere in case it got misplaced, which would have been intensely foolish. 

You had to keep it close in the more likely case that the group had to run off in a hurry if you were confronted. It was too precious of an object to lose - perfect leverage to bargain with if one of you did happen to get captured, and ultimately critical to your overall mission. 

Unfortunately, the isolation and general bickering between you and your companions left you aching for a distraction. Although you were surviving day to day and trying to balance the fate of Muggle and Wizard kind in your hands, food and safety and progressing the mission were your greatest concerns. 

But there was a certain loneliness that crept in. 

Living in the tent like this - physically, it was the closest you had ever been with your three best friends for such a period of time. Although the three of you had lived in the Gryffindor Tower during your six years at Hogwarts, and you had shared a dormitory with Hermione, it had never been like this before. 

The three of you had never shared such close quarters day in and day out for so long without some kind of break for other things - meal times, classes, Quidditch practice, time spent with other friends. It was a large tent, but it was an intensely cramped space for four people to be packed into, especially with the Locket and the depressing atmosphere and the emotional pressure of the mission causing tempers to flare up. 

It was a Herculean test of your friendship, that was for certain. 

Each of you were coping in your own ways. 

Harry was pouting. 

It was something that he did best, in your experience. He was a chronic pouter, as you had discovered over the years of knowing him. Whenever a bad mood overtook him (which was, unfortunately too often due to the unfortunate circumstances that haunted his life), he could mull around and pout for days, sit in sullen silences without talking to anybody with a grand stubbornness. 

He would do it until the loneliness truly broke him, or until someone broke the barrier of stubbornness and talked to him first. (The ladder was more likely to happen when you were around. You hated to see him pouting and you usually always approached him first.) 

Usually his pouting came with locking himself in a room, a purposeful isolation from others when he needed them most. Like when he had locked himself in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place for nearly the entirety of winter break when he believed that Voldemort was corrupting his mind with the evil dreams.

This time around, he had taken to sitting in corners by himself, as far away as he could get from the three of you in the cramped space. He ate his small meals alone without talking to anyone, speaking as few words as possible and only grunting out small responses when asked questions like ‘are you going to sleep now?’ or ‘are you going to take watch next?’. 

He had also taken to pulling out the Marauders’ Map often. He studied it with astute eyes as though it was going to tell him something important. But you guessed that he was simply watching over your friends at Hogwarts like some godly protective force. Even though he couldn’t intervene if anything bad happened to them, he felt like the weight of the world was already on his shoulders, so he guessed that he should be watching over people like a god in the sky too. 

Hermione, of course, was reading. 

Whenever there was trouble, Hermione Granger had her hands on a book. 

She found comfort in knowledge, comfort in pouring over books looking for the answers to her problems. Naturally, this was no different. 

When she had packed for the journey, she had brought along every possible book she could find about dark magic and the subject of immortality. Any reading material she could possibly get her hands on that might mention Horcruxes, how to find them, and more importantly - how to destroy them. 

And thus far, even though all her reading had come up empty, she still took a pile of books in her arms every night and read through them, often sacrificing sleep in the name of staying up to continue her search for answers. Some of those books she had read over two or three times before that she was rereading again now, developing a kind of madness over searching them cover to cover, looking for something. 

It was clear to you that she felt an intense pressure - most of it, she was putting on herself. She thought that her brilliant mind, her stubborn ability to continue on despite nothing turning up would be the thing that finally solved the issue. She thought that it had to be her. She had helped Harry so many times before, so of course - it had to be her. 

You were someone who coped by comforting others. 

This is where the loneliness became even worse, because the more you tried to fuss over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the more they pushed you away. The more you chased them down in small ways - putting blankets over them, trying to provide small comforting touches, trying to have small conversations just to satiate your own loneliness, even yearning for a short cuddle, the more they shrugged you off and the more each small rejection stung right to your core. 

Even though you were yearning for some affection, you knew consciously that they weren’t there to simply fulfil your needs. You knew that they weren’t actually ‘yours’ in that sense, not in a way that would demand them giving you attention just on the basis of your loneliness. As much as you had dreamed of it being that way, it simply wasn’t true. 

But you found yourself aching more and more after each rejection, knowing how incredibly stubborn the three of them were. Maybe they were yearning for the affection too, but they were too stubborn to show it on the surface. But maybe, they truly didn’t need it. They were hardened stones, and you were a delicate flower. Even though it hurt you, it was why the four of you had always worked so well. 

You had always softened their edges. Every single major argument that had gone on between them, any bickering between Ron and Harry, or Harry and Hermione, or Ron and Hermione, or god forbid, a blow-up between all three of them - it was something you had been able to reign in and calm down. You had always gotten them to calm down and ignore their worst impulses, and simply talk it out. At the end of the day, you always got them to apologise to each other. 

And of course - there was the sex. 

As far as you knew, no single person in the group knew that you were ‘involved’ with the others in that special, intimate way. They all thought that they were the only one. They all thought that you only had platonic, completely friendly relationships with the others. Even though you made no effort to hide it. You would still flirt with them, compliment them, cuddle them out in the open, hold hands. 

But it was something that had never been discussed, and at certain points, they had emphasised hiding the sexual aspects of your relationship and jumped apart from kissing you or groping you when one of your other dear friends came into the room. So you never pushed to open that can of worms and start a big argument over it because things were good. There was a balance to it, a silent status quo. 

It’s not like you set out to be some scamming harlet. Most definitely not. 

Each of your individual relationships with them mattered to you so much. You loved them in such special and unique ways. But they were all so stubborn, and they acted like kissing and sex was some grand secret that needed to be locked away from the world and could never be discussed with anyone else. So as long as you kept those secrets, they never knew about each other. It turned into threads of private time, special bonds that you built with each individual person. 

And now, living so closely with all of them, it left you feeling so intensely stuck. 

You had three of the greatest people so close to you, and if you asked one of them to fuck you in the name of sexual relief, then the other two would be offended. It would be incredibly difficult to sneak off for a secret romp like you used to, because you were supposed to stay close and keep an eye on each other for safety. 

So this left you with your own hand. You knew that when you touched yourself, you weren’t quiet, and you weren’t quick. You had tried a few times so far during the trip, and it had only left you more wanting when you had failed to cum for fear of being caught. It left you needier than ever when you had been interrupted by someone else’s presence - someone waking up or walking into the tent, and stopped because you didn’t want them to catch you. 

There had even been times when you had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of Harry or Ron wanking, grunting roughly in the darkness, and it burned up your insides so badly that you practically wanted to beg them for cock. But you didn’t want to embarrass them by outing their ‘secret’ relationship with you to the other two, so all you could do was lay there and let the flames of your arousal burn you up. 

You had no clue how Hermione had gone so long without touching herself. You guessed that she was either doing so off in the woods during her ‘reading time’, when she thought that she wouldn’t be disturbed, or she was too afraid of possibly being caught in order to even try. She was a lustful person, you knew that from experience. But oftentimes, her rule oriented mind won-out and kept her from doing truly mannerless things (like letting you touch her under a desk during class, much to your disappointment). 

The more time you spent in such close proximity to them, the more you craved their touches. You knew that you were going to break soon. And you were going to do something truly mannerless. 

In the meantime - you sat in the cold, early morning darkness, keeping an eye out for danger that likely wouldn’t come because it didn’t know where to find you. And as you kept watch, you tried your best not to think about the hot ache between your legs. 

… 

You had managed to spend most of the day distracted from your… cravings. 

You spent the morning on watch, watching the sun kiss the sky orange and break beams of light through the trees. It was nice to go from ice cold, your fingers numb in the darkness to feeling the warmth wake up around you. It made you feel alive. 

When you were supposed to switch off with Ron, you continued to sit with him for a while. You smiled at his sleepy state - his hair messy and his eyes barely open as he forced himself to be up and about. When he yawned wide, he truly reassembled a lion with a wild red mane. 

You actually managed to hook him into a pleasant conversation about some of your childhood memories. He pointed out that one of the trees nearby looked primed for a treehouse. You smiled and reminded him of the treehouse that the Burrow used to have before Fred and George blew it up. This easily spiralled into a long conversation about nights that the two of you had spent camping in that treehouse looking at the stars, and a time where the two of you had technically had your first kiss when you were ten years old. 

This left Ron with a smile on his face, which made you happy. You left with a kiss on the cheek while Hermione hollered your name through the tent flap, needing your for something else. She wanted your help to translate something from one of the books - something written in a different language that she didn’t know that you just happened to be very well versed in. After you spent some time helping her with this, she gave you a small smile and a nod and then rushed off to look up something in another book, seemingly pursuing a lead - which pleased you. 

And then it was time to help Harry prepare the evening meal. It wasn’t much; just some canned soup and a few pieces of bread. But Harry came out of his pouting long enough to make a joke about how you were a ‘five-star chef’ and when you giggled brightly at this, he gave you a genuine smile back. 

It was officially upgraded from a good day to a fantastic one when you actually managed to gather everyone at the table for dinner. Harry wasn’t off pouting in the corner, Hermione wasn’t sitting in her bed or off outside propped against a tree with a book in hand. Though she did read through the entire meal, you still considered it a win. And although Ron only ate half his food before not-so-subtly scooping the rest into your bowl with a grunt of ‘not hungry’ (the biggest lie you had ever heard in your life) - you were glad that no arguments had broken out at the table. 

Ron giving you his food was something that had been happening more and more lately. 

See, Ron’s method of coping was more complex than Harry’s or Hermione’s, or even yours. And it was something that could only be quantified if you watched him very carefully. It was likely only something you could name because you had known him for so long, and you had seen him do this so often throughout the years. 

Ron was someone who suffered. 

It was strange to put a name to, but that’s what it was. In all the years you had known him, whenever Ron found himself in emotionally troubling times, he put himself through purposeful suffering - a kind of martyrdom - in order to cope. 

Back when you were kids, a few months before his eleventh birthday, he had been so worried that his Hogwarts letter wasn’t going to arrive. He convinced himself that he simply wasn’t good enough - that somehow, even though his parents and all of his brothers before him had gotten their letters, he just wasn’t going to get one. 

He worked himself into such a frenzy about it that he spent hours doing the most difficult, painstaking house chores that he could think of, simply to prove to himself that he was useful. And to perform some suffering because that was how he coped with the anxiety and the emotional pain. After his letter came, when the worry left him, he didn’t bother with any more chores. He didn’t make his bed for weeks, no matter how much his Mum nagged him to do so. 

After Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and Harry was named the Fourth Champion - that was one of the worst states you had ever seen Ron in. (And Harry, but in a different way.) 

Hermione thought that Ron went cold on Harry because he was angry with Harry. But you saw it for what it truly was - Ron was trying to end the friendship because he thought that he didn’t deserve Harry as a friend. The Tournament was presented as a chance for eternal glory, riches, praise. And Ron was being reminded yet again how entirely unremarkable he was. So he wanted to sink lower. He wanted to be as unremarkable as the Malfoys and everyone else told him he was. He didn’t even want to be associated with Harry - the wondrous fourth champion, if it meant getting a modicum of praise for it. 

But as usual with Ron, his own insecurities presented as annoyance, and anger toward other people. He pretended to be mad at Harry for not giving him the ‘secret’ of putting his name in the cup. 

Ron went for weeks without talking to Harry. Not as a punishment to Harry, but as a punishment to himself. In reality, he was dying inside, not being able to talk to his best friend. He wanted to berate Harry with questions about the process of the Triwizard Tournament, he wanted to become excited with his best friend about the whole thing. 

He told you at one point that he would have even preferred to hash out the whole argument, loudly, and simply have it over with. But he froze out Harry with bitter silence, simply because he felt that he deserved the pain of being separated from his best friend. 

After a few nights of contemplation, Ron had realised he was wrong to blame Harry for it. It was a short-sighted response out of anger. Really, what kind of numpty, especially Harry, who hated the attention, would willingly put their name into a death tournament? 

But still - he went on for weeks without talking to Harry, instead of simply apologising, because he felt that he deserved the punishment of being away from his best friend. He felt that he should be punished for being lowly and unremarkable, and for not simply believing Harry in the first place. 

Ron partook in suffering and self penance as a distraction from dealing with all of the true, deeper pain that he felt inside. 

And this time, his self imposed punishment came in the form of Slytherin’s Locket. 

The Locket affected all of you negatively. That much was clear within the first few days of the object being in your midst. 

When you put it on, you could best describe it as - heartbreak. A deep, awful ache in your chest that simply made you sad more than anything else. It made you want to burst out crying at any moment, it made you feel as though any happy thing had gone from the world, and any goodness you once knew would never be possible again. You would almost compare it to the feeling of a Dementor’s presence, though it didn’t come with the bitter chill in the air or the horrible memories flashing through your mind. 

Often, this came with a terrible headache - pressure building under your skull, almost as if your brain was bubbling into soup between your ears. At times, it made it difficult for you to focus on anything other than the heartache, in an almost dizzying way. 

Sometimes, when you wore it for too long, it… made you want to hurt yourself. It made your skin feel too tight and made your mind screech with the most horrible thoughts. Thoughts you almost couldn’t ignore. Ideas like - tearing all of your skin off, revealing the bloody viscera underneath. Telling you that would be the only possible way to make that horrible feeling go away. That part was something you had never told the others, and probably never would. 

Hermione guessed that your more ‘sensitive’ nature was what made the Locket trigger sadness in you, rather than irritability or anger. It gave Hermione a more quiet, reserved anger - a contemplative rage that you had only seen in her before she had trapped Rita Skeeter inside that jar. 

And for Harry and Ron - it made them snap. It put them on edge, made them entirely irritable. But with Harry, likely because of his tolerance toward things like the Imperius Curse - it took much longer of wearing the Locket for those feelings to truly affect him. 

Ron seemed to be the most vulnerable to its effects, unfortunately. 

You wouldn’t say that he was weaker, not by far. You would say that he had a tender heart, and a very unfortunate tendency to ignore his heart’s greatest needs. Ron was someone who was always harder on himself, he criticised every inch of himself far more than others did. Every ounce of pain that he felt - he didn’t let himself truly feel it. He turned it bitter, he released it as annoyance, or rage, or resentment. 

The Locket clearly felt that in him, and took advantage of it. The Locket knew that Ron had never truly dealt with his pain, so much negative emotion stored up inside of him, and the Locket was feasting on Ron like a buffet of negativity. It certainly didn’t help that Ron kept volunteering to wear it for longer and longer periods of time - wallowing in his martyrdom, desperate to keep you from taking your turn because he couldn’t stand to see you crying again. 

(He had said to you before that if you weren’t crying on his cock, then there was never a good reason for you to. And he would punch any prat in the face who caused those tears but him.) 

As you helped Ron clean up the dishes from the evening meal, Harry took the Marauders’ Map and went back to the camping chair that he had planted in his usual pouting corner. Though tonight the energy coming off him didn’t seem nearly as foul as he muttered ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’ and began pouring over every inch of the map as he usually did. 

Hermione gathered some books off her cot with a huff and began to walk toward the mouth of the tent, clearly going out to take her watch. She had told you before that even as it got cold, she enjoyed the isolation of sitting outside the tent alone - she enjoyed the peace and quiet. 

You weren’t sure why you bothered, but you stepped toward her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her for a moment. 

“Do you want some help with those books?” You asked. “Maybe a second pair of eyes looking that stuff over could be useful.” 

“No. I’d like to be alone, thank you.” Hermione replied. 

Even though it was a relatively polite sentence, she delivered it in the most curt, edging on snide manner possible. Clearly she was eager to have her alone time as the tent flaps bellowed behind her in a comically speedy way as she left the tent. 

You felt a pang of hurt at her words, but you certainly understood where she was coming from. 

You turned back to help Ron finish up the dishes, thinking nothing more of it. 

But it was his next words that inadvertently set off a hurricane. 

“That’s so Hermione isn’t it?” Ron scoffed. “So damn stubborn that she would turn down such a perfectly polite invitation for help. Needs to do every bloody thing by herself.” 

“It’s fine, Ron.” You sighed quietly, taking the last bowl from him to dry it off with a dish towel. “I under-” 

You were about to take up your usual job - mediating any potential conflicts or sore spots between the group. But your words were cut off when Harry’s annoyed voice came from behind you. 

“Yes, Ron, because you’ve been so bloody helpful lately.” Harry griped, his tone entirely sarcastic. “It’s not surprising that Hermione is used to working on her own. You don’t have to sit around and criticise her while she does it.” 

Ron whipped around then, fixing Harry tightly in a dangerous glare while he pretended to be more interested in the Map. He kept looking at the thick enchanted parchment in his lap while Ron bitterly spat out a reply. 

“Oh yes, because you’ve been wracking your fuckin’ brain, actively working on solutions, now have you?” Ron argued back, his voice rough and rude as you had ever heard him. Obviously, he was bitter over the insinuation that he wasn’t helping. “Sitting around staring at that bloody map all day, what’s that gonna do?” 

Ron’s words, his harsh tone even stung you. 

You rushed to step between him and Harry, even though Harry was still sitting in his brooding chair, attempting to seem unphased. He was putting up a wall of calm, not giving Ron the response that he so desperately wanted. Ron wanted Harry to be just as frustrated and aggravated as he was. Rather than sitting back calmly and spitting well-calculated sass. 

But you hoped that it wouldn’t get to that point. If they were both angry, you wouldn’t be able to interfere. You wouldn’t be able to get their attention off of anything but pissing each other off more until it fizzled out on its own - or until Hermione stepped in. Which would be the worst possible result. 

You needed to direct Ron’s attention away from the argument so that it wouldn’t blow up into a massive fight. 

“Ron, let’s go for a walk?” You posed, gently putting your hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at you. “Come on, let’s go get some fresh air.” 

He was still glaring at Harry with a harsh bite in his jaw. You could feel the rage grinding his teeth together under your touch. It was something that made you nauseous. 

Ron didn’t reply to your request before Harry spoke up again. 

“I spend so much time looking at the map because I’m making sure that the people we love are okay.” Harry explained, his voice dull. “Not that-” 

“They’re at Hogwarts, and we’re here.” Ron cut him off sharply, completely ignoring you and your attempts to get him away from the conversation, which was very quickly going off the rails. “Even if they’re in trouble, dying, what are you gonna do about it?” 

Harry inhaled sharply at this, but mustered no reply. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, not taking your comforting touch off of Ron. You saw the depth of sadness swimming in his eyes at this. You knew this was something that cut him deep. 

He looked at the Map every single day because he could rest slightly better knowing that the people he loved - Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean - were safe. He liked to watch them walk the halls, attend their classes, go about a routine. But if they did come into some kind of danger, he had no clue how he would stop it. He couldn’t stop it. That idea was something he had considered, time and time again. And it hurt him greatly. He couldn’t do anything until he had secured and destroyed all the Horcruxes - something you were nowhere near close to doing. 

You thought perhaps this would be the end of the argument. That Harry would go back to brooding quietly and Ron would take you up on that offer to go for a walk. But your hope fizzled away when Ron opened his mouth again. 

“I suppose The Great Harry Potter doesn’t need to work at things, now does he? Because every fuckin’ thing just falls into his lap, huh?” Ron sneered, sounding as though the words ‘Harry Potter’ tasted awful in his mouth. 

You knew that this wasn’t just about the Horcruxes, not by far. Ron was talking about so many things in life. Things that haunted him that he had never allowed himself to let go. 

The House Cup during their first year, Harry’s position on the Quidditch team, his Invisibility Cloak, the Triwizard Tournament - even the affections of girls and the admiration that came with his name. All things that Ron had long been jealous of that had literally fallen into Harry’s lap with no difficulty whatsoever. 

“Ron, please, let’s just go take a breather.” You begged. 

You hooked your fingers into the front of his thick woollen jumper, tempted to try pulling him out of the tent and away from Harry completely before things got worse. 

And then, things got worse. 

Harry burst like a game of Exploding Snap. He jumped up out of his chair suddenly with a shout, causing you to jolt while Ron kept glaring at him, unflinching. 

“Fuck off, Ron!” He screamed. “I would love it if my name could get us out of this mess! But right now, it seems more people in the world want me dead-!” 

Ron reached around you, pointing an accusing finger at Harry as he cut off the other man’s words with a shout of his own. 

“I wish I would have known that when I signed on to be your best friend years ago-!” 

“Best friend?” Harry repeated, halfway between a gasp and a sarcastic sneer. “Some friend you are. What have you done for me in the past few years aside from scream at me and gripe and complain?” 

“Stop it!” You shouted this time, whipping your head toward Harry, done with trying to haul Ron away. “Both of you, stop! You both love each other and this is nonsense!” 

It was the truth. But they were entirely blind to the truth right now.

Naturally, they both ignored you. 

“And what have you done for me, aside from nearly getting me killed?” Ron snapped back. 

“Ron, stop!” You squealed at him, trying once again to stop the fight. 

You had never seen any of their bickering or arguing come even close to the level of friendship ending. But under the circumstances, you feared that if it didn’t stop soon - this might be it. 

You dug your fingers into his jumper again, this time actually trying to haul him toward the mouth of the tent by force. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this - he simply continued engaging in a very fierce glaring contest with Harry. 

When his jumper stretched down slightly, you saw a glinting around his neck, and then you realised: 

He had been wearing the Locket for nearly two days now. 

You thought that Hermione was supposed to be taking her turn, that it was outside the tent with her and her books. But surely enough, when you reached inside his jumper, your hand came back with that green locket. As you looked at it, you found that the sight of it almost mocked you. 

“Ron, take it off.” You demanded sharply. “Come on, you don’t mean any of this, it’s just-” 

“Who says I don’t mean it?” Ron snapped, reaching up and batting your hands away from him. Surprisingly, he then tucked the Locket back inside his jumper, rather than taking it off. 

He was still actively punishing himself. And it was likely that Harry’s comment about him not being helpful was only playing into the toxic circus already going on in his mind that made him feel the need to wear it for longer. The Locket must have been loving the dark cloud of emotions that Ron was feeling right now. 

Harry took a step toward you and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away from Ron. 

“Come on, Y/N, it’s no use talking to him. He’s being a complete idiot right now, he’s not going to listen.” 

Typically yes, that would be the case if Hermione or Harry tried to talk to him. When Ron was angry, their personalities did not mesh well. He would put up nothing but a wall of silence or brute stubbornness toward them. 

But when you talked to him, it was different. When he was greeted by your warm empathy, your gentle understanding, it was different. In the worst cases where you truly needed to break through to him, you ended up with your mouth on his cock to break that stubbornness. But either way, you would get him to listen to you, and eventually he would calm down and talk it out. 

Ron’s glare was like a sharp poison dagger, piercing the place where Harry’s hand met your shoulder. 

It seemed that those words from Harry’s mouth, so casually calling him an idiot, along with Harry’s touch on you - even though it was the most casual, platonic touch he could have performed. All of it brought Ron’s anger to a boiling rage, and under the influence of the Locket - he snapped. 

“Don’t touch her!” Ron growled. He reached around you and shoved Harry squarely in the chest in order to get him away from you. 

You would be lying if you said that the words and especially his tone carrying them didn’t send a distinct zap through your cunt, instantly awakening the lust you had been trying to push down all day. 

Harry let out a sharp gasp as Ron’s hand hit his chest, and stumbled backwards a few steps - partially because of how hard Ron had pushed him, and partially numb from shock. His fights with Ron had never turned physical before. He found himself flushed with fear, and not one due to intimidation of his best friend’s physical stature. He was afraid to potentially lose the friendship. He was afraid that he had taken things a step too far. 

You looked between the two of them, tingling with shock yourself, completely unsure what to say or do. You were tempted to shout for Hermione, but then Ron began speaking again and shocked you and Harry even further. 

“This may come as a surprise to you, Harry, but you don’t own everything in the goddamn world.” Ron said, spitting Harry’s name through his lips like it was a vile poison. 

Was he seriously insinuating that Harry put a hand on your shoulder because he thought that he owned you? 

Was Ron getting possessive over you? 

“Excuse me?” Harry squeaked out, clearly having as much difficulty processing the words as you were. 

If anything, Harry was jealous of your relationship with Ron. 

The two of you had been so close before even coming to Hogwarts. When Harry had seen the two of you idly chatting and laughing so hard that you could barely breathe when he had approached your train carriage during that first ride to Hogwarts, he had been purely intimidated. On that day, Harry had felt like he had no one in the world, like he was so damn alone, and Ron already had you as a best friend. 

Harry had always been jealous of the closeness that you had with Ron. The inside jokes from your childhood, the stories of the things you got up to as kids that he only heard about secondhand. Harry had always wished so hard, yearned deep in his heart that he could have grown up in the magical world so that he would have known Ron sooner and could have been his best friend for as long as you had. Every single time Harry arrived at the Burrow, you were already there, laughing it up with Ron, making him feel like he was the biggest third wheel to your already amazing friendship. 

To this day, Harry was still surprised that Ron gave him the title of best friend and not you. 

“Ron-?” You questioned numbly, and he cut you off. 

“You heard me.” Ron growled, his voice dark. 

It was something that made your stomach jump, a mixture of shock and lust flooding you. It made you numb and limp and turned you into a perfect ragdoll, your body entirely receptive to Ron’s next chaotic, unpredictable movements.

“She doesn’t belong to you.” Ron ground out, his throat scraping against the words in a gravelly way that made your pussy so wet. 

“I never said-” Harry gaped quietly in protest, but he cut himself off with a quiet gasp when he witnessed what his best mate did next.  

Ron threaded a hand into the back of your hair, a grip so strong and commanding, a touch that immediately said ‘I own you’. 

You released a small gasp in response, arching into his touch as shockwaves of pleasure pittered through you from this point - from feeling his large, strong hand gripping you there. He didn’t waste a moment before he ripped on your hair, forcing your head backwards so he could have a good angle to shove his mouth onto yours. 

Dizzy with the combination of pain and pleasure, your mouth so easily fell open to him. You had nothing but ripe, burning moans for him as his rough, unshaven face scratched against yours and his demanding tongue shoved past your lips. He was almost forcing you to choke on his presence as your needy lust came back with a vengeance, thumping hard between your thighs. 

Harry found himself confused. 

He was still so bitterly angry, that annoyance from the argument still sizzling through his veins. But he found his cock quickly swelling to hardness at the sight of Ron taking you so savagely, treating you to roughly, doing things to you that Harry had definitely never done. 

Harry was always soft with you. He didn’t know anything but softness when it came to his intimate time with you. Witnessing this was so absolutely hot, and Harry couldn’t deny that. He should have been more upset by this revelation - by the familiarity, by the natural way you just let Ron kiss you. 

Harry should have been jealous. He should have stormed away to brood at the fact that you had clearly been fucking Ron behind his back for as long as you had been fucking him. But he couldn’t find himself angry about that. He only found it to be a turn-on. 

Part of his brain screamed that he should have known all along. A girl as perfect as you wouldn’t have just one boyfriend, definitely not. (Was he your boyfriend? The two of you had never discussed that part…) 

The first time you had ever kissed him, Harry just felt exceedingly lucky. And he had felt similarly confused, wondering why the hell you had snogged him so suddenly, without seeming to show any interest in him beforehand. 

That night in the Gryffindor Common Room, after everyone else had gone to bed, he had asked you if he should be concerned about his kissing technique because Cho had been crying while kissing him and afterwards, and Ron had made that joke about how Harry must be horrible at snogging, then. 

And without even answering, you pulled him forward by the length of his Gryffindor tie and snogged him furiously. (At the time, he had been embarrassed by how easily he had moaned into your mouth - something he had definitely not done with Cho - but you had assured him later that you found it cute.) 

And then you explained to him that his kissing technique was more than fine, and that Cho was still hung up on Cedric, and he should stop ‘playing with her fragile emotions’. He had been too pleased to have you that he hadn’t cared at all about turning Cho down for Valentine’s Day. 

So naturally, he hadn’t questioned the nature of his relationship with you since. 

In this moment, he was still bitterly mad at Ron. But he watched to watch. He found you beautiful and irresistible, even if he should have hated seeing you with Ron. He just found it hot. And he was confused as to why that was - but he certainly wasn’t going to move unless you or Ron yelled at him to bugger off. 

The whole time that Harry contemplated this, Ron thoroughly explored your mouth with his tongue. This left you whimpering and writhing to get closer to him, despite the tight grip he had on your hair. You were needy for more, arching into him, needing to be closer to his warm, Quidditch-hardened body. Your hands tightly gripped his biceps through his thick jumper, wishing you could feel more of him, more of his delicious bare skin that you had experienced under your hands before but missed so dearly. 

“Ron-!” You squeaked out in protest as he pulled back from the kiss. 

The movement resonated a wet smack through the tent and left Harry’s mouth flooded with his own saliva as he saw the thread of spit that tangled between your two mouths. He would deny that it was out of pure want. 

He stared in awe as he saw how swollen and used your lips already were after just a few moments of Ron’s rough kissing. 

Typically, that was an imagery that Harry could only get from you after hours of kissing, slow and sweet. Or something he would see on the rare occasions when you had sucked his cock for hours, pinned him down and teased him until he was begging for more. Naturally, that thought made his cock give a needy pulse inside his trousers - but he refused to touch himself. 

He didn’t know when he had gotten so damn hard, but he knew that he was standing at full attention, and he hoped that Ron wouldn’t look over to see the very obvious bulge at the front of his pants. 

Something that truly mystified Harry was the look on your face. 

You had such a doll-like expression; your eyes glassy, your jaw slack, your lips parted. Your gaze was locked on Ron, tracing his every movement as though you had been hypnotised. If Harry didn’t know any better, he might say that you were under the Imperius Curse. In all the times that Harry had taken you to bed before, he had never seen that look on your face. 

Whenever you gleefully climbed on top of him (or the spare few times when you let him climb on top of you) you were always so present. Often, Harry was surprised by how composed you could be when he was the one begging and falling apart. Whenever he looked up at you, there was an almost wild look of mischief behind your eyes as you decided with pure, intricate calculation what you were going to do to him. 

And Harry could do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the ride. He supposed it was the one area of his life where he didn’t have to panic about the decision making. The one time where he didn’t have to fret about being responsible. 

“Ron,” You moaned out weakly, gently begging him for more. 

Harry then realised - Ron did that for you. And you must have liked it a whole lot. 

Because you made absolutely no protests as he mouthed along your cheek roughly, the short, coarse hair of his short beard clearly scratching your skin along the way. You only let out more beautiful moans as he began sucking savagely on your neck. 

“Ron, ah-!” 

Harry only became worried when he saw Ron quite clearly dig his teeth into your skin right at the neck of your shirt, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He continued to yank on your hair, holding your body in a tight arch to keep you from squirming away. You didn’t yell out any protests at this, but the sound you made was a sharp holler - perhaps it could have been from pleasure or pain. 

You had never made sounds like that with Harry, so he couldn’t exactly tell. 

Either way, it had Harry reaching to his back pocket for his wand. But he didn’t yet draw it out and point it at Ron. He was too damn curious to let this continue and see where things went. Especially if you didn’t want it to stop. 

“Y/N?” Harry questioned, his voice ripe with concern. 

He needed to check on you. If you even so much as uttered the words ‘no’ or ‘stop’, then he would put Ron on his ass without hesitation. 

You let out another moan, and his cock throbbed with need, trapped inside of his pants. He hoped that he could forget about it for now. 

You let out a small whimper as Ron tongued over the bite harshly, seemingly enjoying the taste of the blood, before he picked a new spot and bit down again. You made another wounded noise and Harry gripped his wand tighter before you finally responded to him. 

“I’m fine, Harry.” You breathed out, sparing him a quick sideways glance - barely able to turn your head with Ron’s strong grip holding you still by your hair. 

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name!” Ron growled out, clearly insulted that you were talking to Harry when all of your attention was supposed to be on him. “Not until I’m done with you.” 

In a fraction of a moment, these sharp words were paired with the sound of skin stinging against skin. 

Harry let out another gasp as he watched Ron’s large hand come down across your cheek. It was hard enough to make a distinct sound, and throttle your head to the side. But it definitely wasn’t hard enough to shake you out of the lustful haze you were in. If anything, the stiffness of his palm colliding with your cheek seemed to add to it. 

More shock pulsed through Harry when he heard you let out another moan, definitely a pleasurable one. He pulled out his wand and held it at his hip, not yet prepared to threaten Ron. Because if he wasn’t mistaken, you were enjoying this. 

“Ron,” You gasped quietly. 

You found yourself shocked by the way the slap had caused your pussy to throb between your legs. 

“That’s right.” He grunted back before he leaned back in, taking your mouth in that entirely commanding way once again. 

You could do nothing but moan pathetically and hope that soon he touched you where you needed it most. 

Sure, Ron had been somewhat rough with you before. 

He was always more of an animal in bed - Ron always fucked dumb and wild, climbed on top of you and let loose like a mindless animal until he was done. And you always liked it that way. 

You went to him when you wanted to be sore and full, when you wanted to lay back and forget about your day. You thought it was sweet of Harry to check on you. He had always been so different when it came to sex. 

You went to Harry when you wanted to be taken care of with intense softness and slowness. Sex with Harry was always more like making love - a devoted worship of you or you worshipping him. You liked to have his sweetness completely under your control, to know that he would do anything you said at a moment’s notice. 

And of course, Hermione was completely different. You went to her when you wanted to fight for dominance and sometimes lose, or win and have the pleasure of having her at your mercy. She was a very rule oriented person, so she was the type to have you stand in the corner with a book balanced on your head while she finished writing an essay and then give you a reward for not dropping it. But she was also someone who liked to be mind-broken and forget about all the rules sometimes. You liked that it was so unpredictable and surprisingly non-routine with her. 

While you knew each of them well, intimately - you were somewhat surprised. 

Ron had never been this mean before. 

Mostly, you were surprised by how quickly you were coming to like the meanness in him, especially when it was presented as a sexual aggression toward you. You knew that it was something you would crave long after this was over. (You hated that you could imagine yourself purposely pissing him off just to get this result.) 

After a few moments, Ron pulled away from the kiss again, leaving you panting, entirely breathless. He leaned his forehead against yours in a move that Harry would almost consider tender - quite a contrast to his other actions, staring daggers of dangerous passion into your eyes as your chest heaved. 

“I’m fine.” You muttered quietly, wanting to assure Harry that you were okay with everything that Ron was doing. More than okay - but you weren’t quite ready to admit that just yet. “It’s fine.” 

Your words were clearly intended for Harry, who you could see out of the corner of your eye was clearly prepared to take Ron down if need be. It was a nice safety net to have, but with your cheek stinging as much as your needy cunt - it was an unnecessary one. 

You kept your eyes locked on Ron as he teased a thumb across your bottom lip. You were tempted to tease him, tempted to call out Harry’s name again just to see what would happen. But you were worried that he would get you all worked up and then not let you cum, and that would be the most pitiful punishment of all to you on this day. 

“Fine?” Ron chuckled darkly. “I’ll show you fine.” 

He wretched your neck back harshly again, taking advantage of the hold he had on your hair. You couldn’t contain the moan you let out as he shoved his tongue past your lips once more, his free hand coming up to grope your breast through your shirt so harshly that it ached. 

He reached for your pants and tugged on them so hard that the button went flying, making a small ‘tink’ on the floor as it disappeared somewhere on the other side of the tent. You distantly hoped that Hermione could sew, or that she knew some spell for mending buttons, but that was a fleeting thought in your mind at the moment. 

Ron shoved his hand past the waistband of your pants without a second thought, without even a breath of asking permission. It was that boldness, the way he simply took you like you belonged to him - it was that feeling of being owned by him that made you clench around nothing, further soaking your cotton panties as he shoved his fingers into them. 

Ron pulled back from the kiss, letting out a breathy chuckle against your cheek as he felt that heady wetness. He had to pry the sticky fabric off your cunt to make his way to the source, and it only made him more sure of himself. He made bold, cocky movements when he posed two of his fingers rigid, sweeping up the length of your needy pussy. He gathered the wetness thick on his fingertips before he found your clit with practised skill and rubbed it in mean strokes. 

“Ron!” 

Your knees bent and your fingers dug into the fabric of his jumper, desperate to hold on to something. Your thighs clamped down around his hand, and when you let out a whining moan, Harry’s cock pulsed sharply when he realised he could hear the sound of your wetness audibly, even though it was slightly muffled, still trapped inside of your pants - he could hear each mean, wet stroke as Ron touched you. 

“Ron, please!” 

You were already begging to cum. 

But he had no determination to finish you off right now. He didn’t want to make you cum yet - otherwise, the show would have been over too soon. He only did this for a moment before he pulled his fingers back out of your pants, now absolutely soaked and glistening with your wetness. Then he shocked you and Harry yet again when he purposefully held the hand up for Harry to see. 

“More than fine.” He scoffed, referring to your earlier words. “Look at how fucking wet she is for me.” 

An incredibly tempting thought came over Harry. To cross the room and put his lips around those fingers, to taste your essence (something he was already intimately familiar with) while enjoying the thickness of Ron’s digits on his tongue. But there was still that part of Harry that was pissed off, and somehow, that part won out. 

“You’re mad.” He barked out, pocketing his wand again and crossing his arms tightly over his chest, setting his jaw and giving his best enraged expression. “You’re disgusting.” 

Ron let out another bitter chuckle. “You’re still watchin’, mate.” 

Seeing as it was not a demand to fuck off and stop watching, Harry continued to keep his eyes locked on the scene. All while trying his best to keep putting up that front of anger while arousal overtook him. 

Ron used the hand in your hair and a hand on your hip to throw you toward the table, finally releasing the grip on your hair to manhandle you until you were positioned how he liked. He bent you over the table with your palms supporting you on the surface, your ass sticking out, with your knees grazing against the attached bench in what must have been in an uncomfortable way. It put you and Ron sideways to Harry as Ron got behind you, showing off your profiles to him. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, Ron was purposefully showing off, making sure that Harry had a good view of whatever he was going to do to you next. 

You moaned again as Ron tucked his grip into your pants and underwear and ripped them down all at once, shoving the fabric down to your knees. You let out a pitiful, beautiful whimper as he put a hand on your jaw, forcing your head back painfully so that you could look up at him as he towered over you. He wanted you to know how much power he held over you. 

It made your cunt throb even harder, and you were sure that Harry could see the wetness glistening on your thighs. 

Ron’s body was warm against your back, the muscly hot furnace that he always was. Without warning, he shoved those two still wet fingers inside your cunt, and began fucking you open without mercy. This caused you to moan harshly and arch into the touch, aching for more. 

“It’s funny, innit?” Ron posed, a dark laughter dancing in his voice. “Someone had to show The Great Harry Potter how to fuck. One thing that didn’t just come to him with natural grace.” 

Over the sounds of your moans and Ron’s fingers moving slickly inside your cunt, Harry felt a wave of humiliation rise up in him. He would absolutely deny that Ron speaking so harshly to him like that, combined with his best friend for once looking down upon his name - actually made his cock throb harder. A big part of Harry internally scoffed. Did Ron honestly think that Harry was some blushing, clueless virgin? 

“I know how.” Harry replied, the words entirely daft to his own ears once they came to the open air. He sounded like a petulant child pretending that he hadn’t eaten a cookie before dinner. Absolutely no truth or proof behind his own words. 

Ron let out another dark laugh at this, and Harry’s stomach clenched with a strange combination of humiliation and lust. 

If Harry was being completely honest with himself, there was a time in his life when he had been taught how to fuck. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him without a bunch of nervous fumbling. But Ron certainly wasn’t his instructor. 

You had been the one to teach him how. 

…

Harry let out a needy whine, deep frustration radiating through him as your hips slowed down on top of him yet again. He wanted to cry as you sat down on top of him completely, trapping his cock in stillness, leaving him leaking and needy inside of you as your leaking pussy sheathed completely around him. It was the most beautiful torture - every inch of him sheathed in your hot wetness, but dear god, he needed you to move. 

“Hush, now, darling - there’s no need to whine.” You scolded him, your voice oddly sweet and soothing for words that brought such a disappointing lull over him. 

“But-” Harry breathed out a protest, and you yanked sharply on his Gryffindor tie. This caused the words to die off in his throat as his neck was jerked with a short snip of pain. 

He was still mostly clothed - still wearing his cardigan, unbuttoned and slumping down his arms, and his white shirt with a few stray buttons undone. With his trousers undone and pulled down to his thighs along with his underwear, letting his cock out. Usually, when you fucked him, no matter how undressed he got, you kept his tie around his neck. You had found that it was a very convenient leash - a very easy way to shut him up and make him obedient at a moment’s notice. 

It was something he was now unconsciously trained toward, which he both loved and hated. Ron and Hermione had no clue why Harry went so slack and became a puppet following your every whim if you even so much as grazed a suggestive touch near his tie during classes - it was something that made his brain go fuzzy and made his cock harden at an alarming speed. 

This afternoon, you had decided that the chosen form of torture - well, intensely wet, pleasurable ‘torture’ - would be riding him. You had shed your clothing and you were now sitting astride his lap naked, alternating between fucking him hard and fast for a few moments before you slowed down and then slopped completely until he begged for you to continued. 

It was a move that simply dared someone to come into the Gryffindor boys dorm during the class that the two of you had skipped and catch the two of you while you humped up and down on Harry’s cock. But he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the possibility of getting caught, as you easily made him forget about everything other than the feeling of your warm, tight, wet cunt clenching down on his cock. 

“I told you, Harry, we need to train up your stamina.” You whispered, speeding your hips up once again, daring him to hurl off the edge of oblivion into a mind-bending orgasm. “It’s like Quidditch - if you don’t practise, then you’ll never get better.” 

Harry only sputtered out a moan and clutched onto your hips tightly, pressing his face into your breasts as his over-edged balls ached and he internally begged for mercy. 

So what? He didn’t often last long with you. You were a goddess, and your pussy was perfect, who could blame him? What he lacked in stamina, he usually made up for in enthusiasm and the intense willingness to eat his own cum out of you afterwards, which you more than enjoyed. 

“Y/N, please-!” Harry grunted out desperately. 

…

“Ron, please!”

Harry’s mind was abruptly sucked back to the present by the sound of your voice, begging in that needy, airy tone much like he had been begging you for release all that time ago. He found it remarkable how someone as composed as you could be taken apart so easily by Ron. Perhaps he might just end up asking Ron for some tips after this - even if it would inflate the git’s ego a bit too much. 

“If you’re so great, then how come she’s not begging for your cock, hmm?” 

Ron teased, seeming to take great joy in focusing his attention on mocking Harry while his fingers fucked your pussy raw. He ignored your whines and pleas and the way you rocked your hips back into him, clearly so desperate for his cock as he had pointed out. 

“Watch and learn, Harry.” 

Harry wanted to make some sassy comment about how he didn’t need to learn this from Ron, but he was far too intrigued, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched. 

“Ron-!” You let out his name in a gasp as he pulled those fingers out of you abruptly. 

He then slapped your ass, streaking those wet fingers across your behind in a way that made the hit sound even sharper, and you choked on your own breath and arched back into the touch. You looked fucking magnificent. Harry would absolutely catalogue this in his mind forever - though he hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he got to watch Ron fuck you. 

Ron then used the hand that wasn’t slick with your arousal to pop open the button on his own trousers. Harry hoped that Ron wouldn’t make a comment about how intently his eyes became glued to his best friend’s cock as it fought to be freed from his pants - no underwear keeping it from fighting against the zipper as Ron easily shucked down the pants over his hips. 

Harry had snuck glances at Ron before. It was difficult not to grow curious about what your best mate’s cock looked like when sharing a room with him for six, going on seven years. Especially when the latter of those years had been filled with Ron growing into a tall, broad man that easily overtook Harry in stature. And Harry had spent an increasing amount of time thinking about Ron’s cock when he woke up to the sound of Ron wanking with deep, ragged grunts. 

He had caught sight of Ron coming out of the shower before. After Quidditch practices, and when racing to use the bathroom at the Burrow before anybody else could take up the already cramped shower schedule. And while Harry had admired Ron’s muscles, he had never dared to look down before. He would never be so blatant. He had never wanted to be called out for his curiosity. He never wanted that curiosity to turn into desire. 

But now, his eyes focused boldly on Ron’s cock, seeing as it was the only naked part of him available to stare at. 

Even though Ron’s red hair was one of the most distinguishable traits about him, Harry was surprised by just how bright and fiery his pubes were - like a hellish flame from which his cock sprung out. And boy, was it an impressive one. 

It was eight inches long, maybe a bit more, and it was thick. The only way to describe Ron’s cock was fat. It was quite pale, just like the rest of Ron, with a slight pink flush around the head that was swallowed up by his foreskin. But still, Harry found himself fixated on just how massive Ron’s cock was. 

Harry found himself wondering what the thick shaft would look like wrapped up in your hand, or the dainty, delicate touch of Hermione’s, and his throat became particularly dry when he imagined this. 

Strangely enough, even though Harry’s cock was a good two inches shorter and it was skinnier (much like his general stature when compared to Ron’s) - the first thing that Harry felt when looking at Ron’s cock wasn’t jealousy or inadequacy, but rather - awe. A horny type of marvel, like he was looking at a brilliant sex monument that he had just discovered. 

A small pang of worry flashed through his insides at the idea that Ron was likely going to take you so roughly with his obnoxiously large cock. He knew that Ron wasn’t going to be gentle all of a sudden. Harry worried that a cock of such size might hurt you. But again, he knew that he could step in if you asked him to. 

Ron grabbed his cock with the hand that he had previously been fucking you with, spreading your wetness over his shaft with a few good pumps. He poised a touch on your hip and then, with a hand on the base of his cock, began running the now exposed, throbbing tip along your weeping slit. 

Harry thought that he might push in after a moment, especially when you let out a whimper and arched your back toward him, daring him to sink in. 

“Ron, please. Please, baby. Come on.” You begged, your voice half caught in your throat as you were overtaken by need. 

Harry’s cock was freely leaking into his underwear now, and he almost shouted for Ron to begin fucking you out of his own dizzy desperation. 

But then, still teasing his cock along your swollen pussy lips, Ron put his other hand under your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks tightly between his thumb and forefinger - and he turned your head toward Harry. You had previously been facing the wall of the tent with half-closed, dopey eyes. 

Harry found himself deeply surprised by this. Of course, the whole point of this (supposedly) was to direct your attention away from Harry. Ron had even banned you from speaking his name. So why did he want you to look at Harry now? 

When your glassy, lustful eyes met Harry’s, his stomach jumped. He swallowed harshly around nothing and he knew that you saw the bobbing of this throat. You let out a whimper, squirming in Ron’s hold, still trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock. This caused Ron to let out a displeased growl and move the hand that he had on the base of his cock to your lower back, shoving you toward the table so that the edge of it cut into your hips. 

While keeping a tight hold on your face, making sure that you never looked away from Harry, Ron leaned in and grumbled something lowly in your ear. Even though you were panting harshly and Harry’s own heartbeat thumped in his ears, he could still hear the words so distinctly from across the room: 

“Go on. Tell him how badly you want my cock.” 

“I want it.” You whimpered. 

This wasn’t good enough for Ron. 

He yanked on your hair again, keeping your face locked on Harry. But at the same time, he made sure you stayed focused on the task at hand with his cock kissing at your entrance, the fat head of it just barely teasing in - but not nearly giving you enough to be satisfied. 

“Tell him who.” Ron barked out. “Tell him who you need.” 

“I need you, Ron!” You whined. “I need Ron’s cock.” 

These finally seemed to be the words that set him off. 

He slammed into you without further ceremony, digging his fingers into your hip and keeping the other hand in your hair for leverage. He began fucking you like a wild animal, his hips a blur of flesh that lit up your insides with pleasure. It was what you needed, and you instantly thanked him with a chorus of deep moans echoing from your throat. 

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” Ron ground out these words, driving each syllable home with a hard thrust of his hips. 

His movements filled the whole tent with nothing but sounds of his hips colliding against your ass, your wet pussy eagerly swallowing up his thick cock. Paired with his rough, animalistic grunting as he claimed you, complemented by the sounds of your withering moans - your lungs already wilted and tired, your body begging for release. You loved being used by him, and you knew that if he kept up the pace, you could cum just from the feeling of his big cock filling you up. 

It was this symphony of sounds - the very obvious signs of fucking - that drew Hermione’s attention back toward the tent. 

She had been roused by the yelling, originally. She didn’t want to intervene in the bickering like she was simply the ‘mother’ of the group, imposing rules and order on everyone. That role did become annoying after a while. So when it died down naturally, she had been thankful, and simply went back to her book. 

But it was the sounds of fucking that truly caught her attention. Completely against her own will, it started a fire between her legs and drew her up. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was your girlish lilting voice calling out Ron’s name. She knew that Harry wasn’t asleep and she hadn’t seen him leaving. So were the three of you-? 

“Fuck, take it! Take it like the little fuckin’ cockwarmer you are!” 

That deep growling voice couldn’t possibly be Ron - could it? 

With her pussy beginning to ache annoyingly between her thighs, Hermione pulled back the tent flap and stepped inside. The sight she found before her quickly made her gasp. 

Ron was fucking you. 

He had you bent over the table. There was something in the back of Hermione’s mind that screamed ‘that is where we eat, this is not sanitary’ - but she ignored that part of her mind in favour of the headliner. 

Which was the beastly way that Ron was taking you, harsh grunts pouring from his lips as his very large cock pounded into your pussy with seemingly no care. This made your poor pussy more swollen by the second, and seemingly - more coated in natural wetness as you creamed all over him, taking nothing but pleasure in his rough movements. 

You were moaning breathlessly, hanging onto the edge of the table for dear life, your face shaped into a perfect O as hot breaths poured from your lips. With your back arched out, showing your ass to Ron in a perfectly pornographic picture that was right out of one of the magazines that Hermione had accidentally seen under Ron’s bed. 

Your whole body rocked with his thrusts, the table creaking under the pure force of him - something that made Hermione realise just how strong he was for the first time ever. It was a thought that made her slightly dizzy and made her throat dry. The expression on his face was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before - tight-browed determination, not a lick of uncertainty anywhere among his features. Clearly, this was something he was confident in. And that confident power suited him so well. 

And Harry was watching. 

He was standing a few feet from the table, his arms crossed over his chest and a very obvious bulge in his pants. A stiff expression on his face as he stared at the scene more intently than she had ever seen him with anything other than Quidditch. 

The lick of heat that Hermione was feeling quickly boiled into a hellfire. Although she knew that her cheeks were pink, and suddenly her jacket felt overwhelming to have on, she didn’t ask to join in. But rather stupidly: 

“Ronald, stop this! Now!” 

Hermione hated that her first instinct was to scold Ron like a child, to order him around like this. 

But the dominant energy pouring off him in waves was certainly not something she was used to, and she had the utmost urge to stamp it out. Though you seemed to be enjoying yourself and Harry seemed perfectly intent to watch, Hermione’s gut told her that there was something wrong with the scene. On the surface, it was Ron’s apparent roughness with you, making Hermione worry that he was handling someone as delicate as you the wrong way. 

But deep down, she knew it was her own spiteful dominance washing up - a possessiveness she felt over you. Something that made her want to challenge Ron for you and have the pleasure of being put in her place. Or, have the pleasure of winning and taking you in front of him. 

Perhaps, what her gut truly wanted to tell her was wrong with the scene was that she wasn’t a central participant in it. 

Ron let out a sharp growl of frustration when Hermione’s shrill voice hit his ears. If there was any boner killer in the world, it was Hermione’s whiny, authoritative voice calling him by his full name. 

He pulled his cock out of you before you could blink. Harry made a choked sound at the sight of Ron’s now angry red cock parting from your swollen cunt with a sticky string of wetness, much like when you had parted from that breathless kiss at the beginning of all this. 

“Ron!” You whined sharply, wondering what the hell he was doing. Your orgasm had been a tight knot in your belly, but now it was fading off so quickly that it hurt. 

Hermione would deny that she stared. She would deny that she could a good eyeful of your pussy as it gaped around nothing, clearly aching for Ron’s cock, spilling more clear wetness out onto your own thighs with each aching, empty clench. Drool gathered in her mouth at the sight of your body so desperate. 

And a sight she had never seen before - Ron’s hard, bobbing dick, bright red and absolutely coated in your wetness. She almost mourned not being able to stare at it for longer as he tucked it back into his trousers and zipped them back up with a clearly frustrated haste. She would deny that the sheer size of his cock amazed her and made her own cunt clench with a filthy, hungry ache. 

“No-!” You squeaked out a protest, looking over your shoulder at Ron and sighing in defeat when you saw that he had tucked his cock away. 

Then you turned your gaze toward Hermione, looking at her with pure disappointment floating in your eyes. 

“Hermione!” You whined out, a clear plea for her to let the whole thing continue.  

She almost couldn’t stand the kicked puppy look from you, especially not when she was so used to giving in to you, giving in to all your little whims. Especially when your pussy was wet and your eyes were glassy with lust - she couldn’t resist you like this. 

You didn’t rush to pull up your own pants, unlike Ron. You didn’t see the point, seeing as, even if they didn’t all know it yet, everyone in the room had seen this part of you quite a few times before. 

“You just have to ruin everything, don’t you, Hermione?” Ron barked, clearly making his way toward the entrance of the tent to leave. 

It was likely that he wanted to sulk off between the trees for a wank since Hermione was becoming all ‘protective’ over you. He was far more afraid of anything she would do to him than whatever vague threats Harry had made earlier. 

“What if you were hurting her?” Hermione said meekly. “Did you even ask her if you could do that?” 

It was rare - so very rare that she admitted she was wrong. The minute she had told Ron to stop, she regretted not simply cheering the scene on. But she wasn’t going to go back on it now. She needed to be in control. She needed the whole thing to be her idea now. 

During the entire exchange, Harry remained eerily silent. Ron was glaring at Hermione with the fierce vengeance of the Locket still pulsing through him, and Hermione was giving him the stiff jaw that she usually did before they burst into an epic argument. If Harry was lucky, another argument would lead to more fucking, and he wasn’t going to speak up and ruin that. 

You whimpered again weakly as you straightened your back. You reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them up slightly to give yourself some mobility in your footing, rather than having them hooked around your legs. But you didn’t pull them up to completely cover your pussy yet. You were still very needy, desperate for an orgasm. If someone else didn’t fuck you soon, you would either have to push Harry to the floor and take him or lay back on the table and start masturbating out in the open without care. 

“She liked it.” Ron growled, entirely confident in this statement. 

Hermione barely contained a whimper of her own as Ron’s hot breath fanned over her face. The condescending glare he gave her only emphasised their height difference, somehow making her insides hotter. 

“But it’s just so easy to blame the big, bad Ron Weasley for everything, isn’t it?” Ron huffed out. 

He turned his back then, and you knew he was about to storm out of the tent, so you finally scrounged up your voice and managed some words. 

“Take it off.” You choked out. “The Locket. Take it off.” 

Whatever happened next, you didn’t want it to be caused by anger. 

You wanted it to be caused by desire - by need. 

You knew that you weren’t the only person in the tent who needed this. You could see the way Hermione was unconsciously clenching her thighs together, and Harry’s cock was testing his zipper mightily. And even though Ron had started touching you out of a possessiveness, it wasn’t the first time that anger had sparked this kind of wild fucking from him - it was just an intensely exaggerated reaction under the Locket’s influence. 

But you knew that it would likely put everyone more at ease if he took it off. 

“You’ve been wearing it this whole time-?” Hermione gasped, reaching for the neck of Ron’s jumper as you had earlier. Surprisingly, he let her. 

“I still liked it.” You announced, wanting to assure Hermione that even if Ron’s need to brutally fuck you was prompted by the influence of the Locket, you had intensely enjoyed it. 

“I absolutely enjoyed it. In fact, I think Ron is the only one around here with any sense.” You said. 

It was then that you felt the draft from the tent flap blowing cooling air on your wet cunt - something that finally prompted you to pull your pants up the rest of the way. 

Harry almost begged you not to, not wanting sex to be off the table, not yet. Ron had to contain a laugh when you reached to fasten your pants with a button that was sitting on the floor in the corner. 

“Beg your pardon?” Hermione gaped, entirely shocked by your words, partially confused as to what you meant. 

Ron grinned wickedly at this revelation - he knew exactly what you meant. 

So, he made no moves to fight her when Hermione took the Locket off him and stashed it in her pocket, rather than putting it on. (She wanted to be clear headed for what she hoped would happen next.) 

“If we don’t stop fighting and start fucking, then we’re going to drive each other insane with all the damn bickering.” You explained.

Hermione looked between Ron and Harry, who were both very still and refused to look at her, much like they did when they thought that they were in trouble. It was quite clear that they were waiting for her to take the lead, to make the important decision as she usually did. 

And then she looked at you. She found herself quite taken with your sex-messed hair, your kiss-swollen lips and the pure need that glazed over your eyes, a few wet tears kissing against your lashes. 

“Hermione, please.” You begged, that pure need swallowing up your chest, making her name sound so beautiful coming off your lips. 

She was distinctly reminded of the last time she had heard those words coming off your lips, begging her for something in a distinctly similar way. 

…

“Hermione, please.” You murmured sharply against her lips, already untying the front of her cotton pyjama shorts. “I’ll be quick, I swear.” 

You had her pinned against the sink in the bathroom at the Burrow, licking the taste of spearmint toothpaste off her teeth. It was just after the two of you had completed a nightly routine, preparing for bed. 

You thought that routine should include an orgasm or two to help with better sleep, but Hermione feared getting caught. Even though the two of you seemed to be the last ones awake, everyone else already finished with their night and in bed. The house was quiet with sleep, even with the number of family members and guests gathered there, staying over in anticipation of the wedding. 

“Y/N-” Hermione choked out your name, reaching a hand up and putting a thumb on your pulse point, pressing down sharply as a warning. 

This was something that caused you to whimper against her mouth and pause the movement of your hand against her wet panties. It was a technique she had developed with you, a soft spot of yours that easily got you to behave or focus when she needed you to. 

“Hermione.” You replied, your voice full of breath, a quivering need balancing on your tongue. It was like a Veela’s call that delicately invited her to give you exactly what you needed. 

Hermione let out a sharp sigh. You held your breath as she gently rubbed her thumb over that spot on your neck, knowing that you would either be denied, or she would soon give in. There was no amount of begging you could do if she had already made up her mind. 

“Quickly.” She told you, her voice sharp and authoritative. 

It was like she was reminding you when an essay was due or telling you to pull down your skirt because your knickers were visible. But instead, she was pressing the fact that you had to make her cum quickly so that the two of you wouldn’t get caught. 

“Quickly.” You repeated the word with a nod. 

You then descended to your knees as you helped her half sit up on the sink, taking her shorts and underwear down to her ankles. 

“Good girl.” She praised in a strained whisper. 

She had to forcefully muffle her own moans with a hand tightly over her mouth as your lips latched onto her clit. 

Most of the time, Hermione didn’t know if she was a potent authority in your life, or if she let you run her like the brilliant scam artist that you were. But either way, she loved you enough to let you have the things you wanted. Most of the time. 

…

That had been just a few short nights before the ensuing blur of preparing for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and the chaos that had everyone tumbling out of there with urgency. That was the last time that Hermione had cum before setting out on this entire tedious ‘adventure’. So of course, her lustful need was worse than ever, if only from starvation of touch over time. 

“Please.” You breathed out the word again, your voice desperate as ever. “Please, I need this. I think we all need this.” 

This drew her attention back to the present, back to the authority she had over you - well, you and the boys right now. 

Now that she thought of those boys - 

“You’re speaking for Harry now too?” Hermione chuckled, turning to look at the one person who had been silent through all of this. 

He raised his brows, looking rather caught. His mouth gaped like a fish as he desperately searched for the words to say ‘I was hoping that I would be included in the dirty filthy fucking without having to ask’. 

Harry didn’t get a chance to come up with a reply before you trampled over him with your own words. 

“Oh please, he’s been hard since Ron first kissed me. Also, for the record, you don’t have to ask Harry for sex, you just tell him it’s happening and he nods and takes off his pants.” You announced, looking at Harry in an intensely knowing way.

Hermione let out a breathy chuckle at this, giving Harry a very interesting sideways glance - studying him like she would study a particularly interesting book. Harry’s stomach bubbled with excitement and lust because you had given him a similar look so many times before. It made him imagine being trapped between you and Hermione while you both came up with increasingly naughty ways to torture him, and he found the fantasy to be equal parts scary and thrilling. 

Ron’s brows knitted together with intense thought and he looked between you and Harry. 

Harry caught Ron’s eye, and he began to turn cherry red when he realised he had been outed as very needy, and very easy. He thought perhaps Ron was judging him - he had no clue that now his best friend was looking upon him with a newly formed sexual appetite. 

“Well, then. Y/N, I suppose you’re right.” 

Hermione huffed out these words before marching across the room toward you with determination. She placed the few books that she had tucked into her arm on the table behind you before she tangled her fingers into your hair in an entirely possessive and well-known manner. Then she forced your lips towards her, kissing you fiercely, but much gentler than Ron had. 

The realisation truly hit all three of them then, that you had been having sex with the other two the entire time. But through some ingrained embarrassment and some intense need not to throw off the balance of the friendships with pining and jealousy, they had always begged you to keep it secret. The worst part of realising it now was - they all knew that they could have been sharing you and each other the whole damn time. 

Naturally, Ron was the one who had to say it out loud. 

“So, you’ve been havin’ me, and him, and her?” He said, pointing to himself, and Harry, and then to the back of Hermione’s head as she feasted greedily on your mouth, driving home the point. “The whole time?” 

Hermione pulled away from the kiss, leaning away from your body slightly, letting both the boys pointedly stare you down for a moment before you answered the question. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly, that lustful breathiness coming back into your voice. “I wasn’t really under the impression that I was supposed to be monogamous.” 

“Mono - what?” Harry finally spoke, the first one to prod at these words with a confusion that he and Ron were both feeling. 

“Monogamous.” Hermione repeated, stripping off her jacket and tossing it to lay on one of the benches beside the table. 

She then reached for your pants, noticing the absent button but ignoring it for now as she ripped the material down over your hips again. She took you with a carelessness that said she already knew she owned you and she could do whatever she pleased with you as she once again exposed your needy, hot pussy to the open air. 

You let out a throaty moan as Hermione continued explaining the term to the boys. 

“Monogamy describes a type of relationship where two partners are exclusive to each other, romantically and sexually, and any romantic or sexual contact with other partners outside of that is considered cheating.” 

Hermione explained this in the textbook fashion that she usually spoke about things. As usual, her flawless intellect and perfect composure only turned you on more. She snaked one hand under your shirt while the other reached between your thighs and began gently teasing her fingers along your wetness. You let out a moan when she gripped onto your breast and her fingers grazed your clit - she was pleased to find you braless. 

“I believe what Y/N has been engaging in with all of us would be considered polyamory. A person in multiple romantic or sexual relationships at once.” Hermione added on. 

“What if we were all - you know - together?” Harry posed, clearly feeling curious about the idea. 

“That would still be considered polyamory.” Hermione said. 

Hermione wanted to mention the concept of a closed off poly relationship - the idea that the four of you would just be the four of you, with no one else involved. How it should be. That’s what always seemed right. It was right in front of her the whole time, and she felt foolish for not being able to see the reality of things sooner. 

“I don’t want anyone but the three of you.” You moaned quietly. 

Hermione let out a small grin when you voiced this for her. 

“You sure that you haven’t been fuckin’ any other tossers on the side?” Ron piped up. “You are a little desperate, love.” 

Your pussy quaked at his degrading words combined with the sweet nickname, and you choked on a harsh sound because of it. 

“Shut up.” You whined. “It’s just us. It’s always just been us.” 

Harry liked the way you said that. Us. 

You humped your hips into Hermione’s touches as she worked her fingers inside of you - there was a slight gape around her delicate touch, plenty of room where Ron had furiously fucked you open. 

“Did Ron cum inside of you?” Hermione asked, shifting the conversation dramatically and unexpectedly. She pulled back her fingers to inspect for that telltale streak of white. 

Harry choked on his own spit at the filthiness of her words, entirely surprised by it, and though Ron was shocked by her dirty words, he rushed to answer. 

“Didn’t give me the bloody chance to.” He grumbled in complaint. 

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at this. 

She pulled back from you completely then, causing you to whine out in protest as you were once again teased and left hanging. She ignored your neediness as she turned back toward the boys. 

“Hermione-!” You called out, collapsing against the table as your face curled into defeat. She ignored you for now. 

Hermione walked over to Harry and grabbed the front of his jumper with one hand and then fed him the fingers that she just had inside of you, clearly eager to test out that needy compliance of his that you had mentioned earlier. Harry didn’t question her and fell so easily to her touches, something that caused her to bite back a smile as she gave out her next instructions.

“Well, Ronald, if you behave yourself, then maybe you’ll get to cum inside me tonight.” Hermione told him, using that bossy tone to say his name in a way he had previously hated so much. 

The bossiness combined with the pure filth spilling from her lips was now something that made his cock throb and protest against the confines of his pants. 

Harry continued greedily sucking on her fingers, letting out quiet moans around them as he bobbed his head, forcing Hermione to speak louder to be heard over his humming and the sounds of his wet sucking. 

“Now that I’ve seen your cock, I want to try it out.” She said, looking at Ron, seemingly paying no mind to Harry as he devoured her fingers. “So you’ll fuck me while Harry fucks Y/N, alright?” 

You cunt tingled at her words - she said it like she was doling out a homework schedule, posing it like a question while leaving no room for her authority to be dethroned. 

It seemed that rule-oriented Hermione was entirely good at making them, and in this situation, nobody was going to protest.

…

A short while later, the four of you were in the middle of the floor - none of the cots were near big enough to fit all of you at once. And sure, Hermione was talented in Transfiguration and could have fixed that, but her patience was worn thin and it was easiest just to toss the blankets on the floor in a pile and close the tent flap so that nobody’s bits got cold. 

Hermione had everyone strip down. 

The boys were much more efficient in following her orders when getting their clothes off than they ever were in following her study schedules. You were no different, of course, being used to falling under her strict, but merciful reign. 

You took a moment to admire each of your companions, especially when Ron let out a comment about Hermione ‘catching up’ and she began to peel off her clothing too. 

Ron was strong and muscular, pure bulk with a perfect bit of chub on him. (Sadly, less chub than he had a few months ago thanks to the lacklustre food situation). His love for food and Quidditch had paid off, resulting in a body that was broad, like a wonderfully warm, soft brick wall. He had filled out his once gangly height so that he looked much more like a professional athlete now than a clumsy toothpick. 

You found his muscular shoulders to be so thick and admirable, a sign of his humble power, especially now that he had the scar from being splinched still healing pinkly over his skin as a reminder of his strength. His soft stomach and thick thighs were utterly perfect in your eyes, a perfect frame for that magnificent, large cock. 

Harry was opposite to Ron in almost every way, and still so utterly perfect. 

He was thin, as you had always known him to be, and he was shorter than Ron by a good two or three inches. (You had always liked that about him because it meant he was easier for you to manhandle.) 

Where Ron’s skin was smooth and freckled and he was naturally pretty hairless over most of his body, Harry was well - hairy. The dark chest hair was something that easily attracted you, a contrast off his pale skin, making a trail down his chest to the nest of dark pubic hair from which his cock sprang out. His cock was smaller than Ron’s but never failed to impress, especially when you had him beneath you and had that cock at your mercy. 

Naturally, after he stripped down, Harry kept his glasses on, wanting to be able to see everything that was going on. His eyes kept bouncing between Ron and Hermione so fervently, taking in all the new flesh as it was revealed to him. You definitely couldn’t blame him for doing so. 

Hermione was a goddess. No other words could describe her. 

Her skin was soft and pale, dotted with beauty marks in some places. You noticed that she too was starting to become a bit too thin, and you vowed that you would put a bit more on her plate during the next meal. Nonetheless, you had always found everything about her to be so perfect. From her pert breasts with soft pink nipples to the small patch of hair between her thighs that was surprisingly a bit lighter in colour than the hair on her head. 

The scene that had unfolded was nothing short of erotic - something stolen right out of your most epic fantasies when you thought of the three people that you loved the most. 

Hermione had been barking orders at everyone and her bossy nature couldn’t even be dampened down when Ron sheathed his cock inside of her for the first time. She simply took the thickness in stride, fucking back into him while she was on her hands and knees. 

The blatant confidence of her voice wavered only slightly with her pleasurable moans, but it seemed that the sex was turning into a battle between the two of them. Ron’s stubborn urge to fuck her harder, to make her break until she was nothing but a brainless mess (for once in her life). Versus Hermione’s own stubbornness, her urge to continue ordering everyone around even while an orgasmic coil wound tight in her stomach and became increasingly more distracting. 

You were on your hands and knees in front of her, mirroring the position so that you could kiss her, and she could touch you freely. She petted sweetly along your face, fisted your hair, or groped your breasts as she pleased while balancing herself with the other hand, and you lavished in the attention. 

Once again, Harry was a grand contrast from Ron as he fucked into your needy pussy from behind. He was entirely different from the beastly version of Ron that was brutalising Hermione’s cunt without care, creating slick slapping sounds throughout the room. 

Harry - as usual - was like a puppet that needed to be pulled on a string. His cock was more than enough to fill you perfectly, but he wasn’t someone who could be rough or fuck you brutally. You were quickly learning that he couldn’t even pound into your cunt harshly to satisfy that deep ache when he was prompted, it seemed. 

“Harry, harder, please!” You moaned, fucking your hips back into him as you fisted the blanket beneath you. You were desperate to recreate the feeling Ron had performed on you - raw, unfiltered possession, pure need taken out on your pussy. 

But Harry being needy was an entirely different form. 

Where Ron was rough and possessive, taking out his need on you by setting out to prove that he owned every inch of your body - Harry was soft. He needed to be the one owned. 

Harry bit down on his lip hard to muffle his whines, fucking you in bouts of fast, rabbit-like strokes before slowing down as the need to cum tightened in his balls. Not wanting to disappoint you, he would then grind deeply into your pussy, trying to will away his own orgasm. 

It wasn’t working very well. 

Especially not when he looked down and saw your wetness leaking out around his cock. Not when he remembered how good you had looked with Ron stretching you open, causing an impulsive need for him to fuck into you quickly again. But his strokes never built up into that harshness you were craving before he let out a deep, throaty whine and slowed down again, fearing cumming too quickly and being scolded for it. (Or being disappointed in himself, honestly.) 

You wished more than anything that you had a Gryffindor tie to put around his neck to direct him how you wanted to, or a literal leash to tug on. 

Harry was a good pet, but he needed to be treated like one. 

Without a leash to hang around his neck, you hung your head between your shoulders and let out a moan of disappointment as his slowing movements caused your orgasm to edge off once again. He was inadvertently torturing you, making your cunt ache more angrily than ever as you throbbed around his cock in red hot waves. You supposed that it was payback for all the times you had made him wait so long to cum. 

“Harry,” You warbled out in a whine, his name harshly scraping against the back of your throat. 

He couldn’t see your face in this position, couldn’t see your expression of pure anguish - so he thought it was a sound of encouragement. He thought that he was doing very well. But of course, Hermione quickly knew what it was, even with Ron fucking her so hard that he was practically driving her hips out of placement. 

“Harry, you - you have to go harder!” Hermione barked at him, still managing to give orders, even in her current position. “She’s never going to cum like that!” 

Ron let out a throaty chuckle at this, highly amused. 

“Mate, do you need me to show you how again?” He asked. 

He slowed his brutal fucking of Hermione only for a moment, long enough to catch his breath and let Harry get in a reply. 

Harry let out a wounded sound at this, entirely similar to a kicked puppy. As much as the idea of Ron pushing him out of the way to take your pussy roughly and ‘show him how’ was intensely hot, Harry wanted to prove himself. 

“No, I don’t need to be shown, I’m perfectly capable of making a girl cum, thank you very much.” Harry replied, his sass partially throttled by the dryness of his throat, your cunt clenching around his cock making him breathless. 

“Ron, don’t you dare stop!” Hermione ordered sharply, trying to fuck herself harder back on his cock. 

Ron reached down and grabbed Hermione by the jaw, much the same as he had done to you earlier, and tilted her head up. His lips met the flushed skin of her cheek as he leaned down, draping his hot, sweaty body across her back. 

It was something that she likely would have called grotesque before - the act of Ron’s sweaty skin against her - but she let out a needy whimper. And she didn’t squirm against him as he held a tight grip on her face. Harry nearly came at how tightly your pussy hugged his cock then, both of you intently watching what happened next. 

“I’ll bloody well do what I like.” Ron said, his voice still taking on that dark, menacing quality even though he was no longer wearing the Locket. “And if you behave, I just might let you cum tonight.” 

He mirrored her earlier words back to her, clearly mocking her. Before Hermione could come up with any clever reply, she was cut off with a gasp out of her own lips as Ron released his grip on her face and began fucking into her harshly again. This knocked her forward so hard that she had to restabilize her arms against the floor to keep herself from falling flat on her face. 

“Harry, turn me over.” You told him, thinking he would have more success if you were on your back. 

Harry mumbled out a ‘yes’ and then pulled out of you. This caused you to whimper with disappointment before he put gentle hands on your hips and helped you get comfortable on your back. 

Without asking, he put a pillow under your head - it was that kind of sweetness that had always drawn you to him. 

In this new position, you were almost between Hermione’s spread arms, your face surrounded by a wild curtain of her hair as she hung her head low between her shoulders. She was panting heavily with the effort as Ron continued to fuck her roughly and now had a two fingers on her clit - determined to finish her just to show that he could. 

While Harry situated himself between your naturally parted thighs, Hermione leaned down and seized your lips. Her kiss vibrated hot moans into your mouth while Harry pushed back into you, and Ron fucked her so hard that he jostled her head, making her unsteady in the kiss. 

“Oh, fuck!” Harry sighed, entirely delighted in the feeling of your wetness around him. 

When you reached down and began rubbing your own clit with determination, he then began fucking you at a quick pace, no longer worried that he would cum before you. Even if he did, he would see you through it and make sure to take care of you, he mentally vowed. 

He was soft, but quick, his hips pattering against yours in speedy movements that actually treated your pussy rather gently. He chased his orgasm inside of you while creating a warm tingle through you that met up nicely with the hot stinging your own fingers made on your clit. 

Eventually, your kiss with Hermione turned into the barest contact of lips on lips as her mouth parted with hot moans, the pleasure absolutely mounting inside of her. Ron’s grunts echoed in the background as the sharp, almost vicious smacking of his hips against her ass continued. 

“Fuck, Ron!” Hermione cried out, all hot breath against your cheek. “I’m cumming! Fuck! Don’t stop!” 

“Take it!” Ron growled. “Take my fuckin’ load, pretty little bitch!” 

On any other day, in any other situation aside from giving her an orgasm with his cock buried deep inside of her, Ron Weasley calling Hermione Granger a ‘pretty little bitch’ would have landed him some pretty severe injuries. But in this instance, it made her moan so hard that her voice cracked, and it was most definitely one of the things that triggered her orgasm. 

“Ron-!” She choked out. 

The sweet sounds she made combined with the absolutely feral noises coming out of Ron lit your whole body on fire. You knew that this sweet symphony was what caused Harry to fuck into you like a mad rabbit for a few seconds before you felt pure heat spilling into you. Upon instinct, you reached around him with your free hand and dug your nails into his arsecheek, forcing him to fuck you through his orgasm even while he gasped and choked on his breath from the overstimulation. 

“Y/N-” 

You let yourself get some lasting pleasure out of extra moments of his hard cock filling you up, and with your own touch on your clit, you rolled into a gentle, but deeply satisfying orgasm. 

“Please-” Harry choked out, and you finally released him, letting him pull back. 

You moaned at the sight of his cock coming out of you - the tip bright red and still weeping bits of cum, almost crying out in protest of the overstimulation, much like the tears that dotted the edges of his eyes. You had made him cry much more severely before when you had more time to tease him, and it was something that you had highly enjoyed. 

He collapsed on top of you and began kissing along your shoulder, being the sweet boy that he was, and he groped one of your breasts. When you tilted your head to look toward Ron and Hermione, she let out a few last pittering moans and he let out a deep grunt before pulling out of her. 

She collapsed entirely then, and it was only her last bit of mindfulness, directing herself as she fell that kept her from falling right on top of you. 

Ron still had a warm hand on her hip, and as you looked down the length of her body, if you weren’t mistaken - he was still raging hard, even after he had cum. (It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Sometimes Ron worked himself into such a frenzy that he needed to cum two or even three times in a night before his cock fully went down. It lovingly surprised you every single time.) 

“Good?” Ron posed, his voice gentle for the first time in hours. He patted Hermione on the hip, clearly directing the question at her. 

Of course, he was still tender-hearted below the surface. He would never fuck someone’s brains out like that without ensuring that they were okay. 

“I’m good.” Hermione replied, choking on her own breath. 

She spared him a glance over her shoulder, and he gave her the most utterly timid grin - it was such a roaring contrast to his earlier bold words and his rough touches, but it was somehow a fantastic assurance toward Hermione that he was, of course, still the same Ron. She could still boss him around in every other aspect of life, but if she needed a break from all that bossing, he could do this for her. 

Satisfied with this, she leaned in to kiss you again. 

You sighed with delight into her mouth and snaked your tongue past her lips, more than enjoying the attention you were being ravished with. Your pussy still nagged for attention between your legs and you hoped that Hermione wasn’t too tired to play with you. 

“You know Harry, you don’t have to keep starin’ at it.” Ron joked. “It’s not gonna bite you, mate.”

There was a slight slick sound, and when you pulled away from Hermione’s mouth and opened your eyes, you realised that it was Ron pumping his hand on his still very hard cock, wanking with the combination of Hermione’s wetness and his own cum that he had gathered there. 

It took your orgasm-hazed brain a second to realise that he was talking about his dick. When you glanced over your other shoulder, you realised completely that Harry’s focus was no longer on peppering kisses over your neck and shoulder, but very much on staring at Ron’s cock. 

With Harry’s body still flush against yours as he laid on top of you, you felt the deep sigh that he let out. You could see the contemplation in his eyes, the slight fear to express his desires that you had seen in him before. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him. 

“What is it, darling?” You asked gently. 

“I keep staring at it because, well…” He sighed again before continuing. “I want to… what is it that Hermione said? ‘Try it out’.” 

Harry highly resisted the urge to hide his head in your neck with embarrassment after this admission. He looked from you, to Hermione, then to Ron for some kind of approval - or simply looked not to be mocked. 

“Oh, you should.” Hermione said, giving a moan of contentment as she stretched out her back like a cat. 

She had finally regained some energy after being so thoroughly fucked, and she turned from where she had collapsed on her stomach to lay on her side, showing off her gorgeous body to all eyes in the room. 

“It’s magnificent.” She added on with an almost dreamy sigh. 

Hermione smiled - a sweet, coy smile, and you let out a giggle as Ron caught her eye, his brows raised in shock. It was one of the few things she had complimented him on without hesitation. This whole thing had certainly turned the group’s dynamics upside-down. 

When Harry looked to Ron, he found concern knitted in those freckled features. 

“Harry, typically, I think when blokes do it, there’s a bit more… um… preparation… involved, innit?” Ron posed, hesitation taking up every inch of his voice for the first time that night. 

Clearly, he thought that Harry meant he wanted to take Ron in his ass - and he was concerned about Harry’s inexperience versus Ron’s sheer size. 

Harry flushed red, perhaps from embarrassment at having this pointed out to him, or from the lust of considering what it would be like to have that beautifully large cock splitting him open. (You did feel Harry’s cock give a pathetic twitch against your thigh). This time he did lean into your shoulder to hide as much as he could. 

“Yes Ron, please tell me more about how much preparation it would take for me to handle your very giant cock.” Harry drawled sarcastically, trying to make a joke out of it. 

Hermione let out a chuckle at this. When you caught Ron’s eye, you could see a distinct heat swimming there. Obviously he enjoyed Harry talking about him this way, even if it was with his typical sass. 

“You should suck him off.” You said, running your fingers through Harry’s dark locks again, trying to be gently encouraging. “Unless you’re afraid that he’ll break your jaw,” You made a joke of your own, and Harry let out a sarcastic scoff against your skin. 

Harry didn’t need anymore convincing when Ron got a hand in his hair, practically hauling him off of you. He let out a lilting moan of his own as Ron handled him into place, much like he had done to you earlier. 

Hermione then crawled over to on weak bambi legs and laid herself on top of you, pressing her body against yours - chest to chest, lips against yours with the usual sharp determination and an almost lazy exploration of her tongue through your teeth. She hooked her thigh over your hip so that she could press her sloppy, used cunt against yours. 

This inadvertently made one of the hottest sensations you had ever experienced when she began grinding her pussy against yours and Ron’s cum began spilling out of her to meet Harry’s cum in a sloppy mess between your thighs. 

It was truly a perfect union of all the people you loved the most. 

While you sucked on Hermione’s tongue, you heard a sloppy gagging sound beside your head that more than caught your attention. You couldn’t help but to pull away from the kiss with the curiosity to look. Hermione began kissing down your neck and lavishing your breasts with attention while you craned your neck to look at Ron and Harry. 

Ron had Harry on his back, and had mounted his chest. From the kind of sideways angle you had, Ron had a commanding, tight hand in Harry’s thick, black locks and held him still while he rocked his cock into Harry’s mouth. His eyes were screwed tight, clearly trying to concentrate on pleasing Ron, gagging with each movement as he struggled to accommodate such an intense size. 

“Relax, Harry.” You said, reaching out to gently pet your fingertips up his arm. You let out a moan when Hermione sucked harshly on your nipple - clearly she was seeking joy in getting a reaction out of you. “It’ll be easier of you just relax and let him fuck your throat.” 

That was something you knew from experience, on both sides. Ron’s cock was massive to accommodate, but it was easier just to sit back and take the ride. And Harry was intense, thoughtful, a worrier. He wanted to please and know that he was doing well. But he did better when you fucked every last thought out of his head. 

“Yeah, come on.” Ron grunted quietly, trying to force more of his cock down Harry’s throat. “You’ve got a sweet fuckin’ mouth when you’re not usin’ it to talk back.” 

Harry moaned at this praise and you saw him visibly relax, and you gave him a few more sweet pets as you added on: 

“Good boy. Come on, be good for him.” 

Which seemed to truly encourage him, and he let Ron start up a good rhythm. He was much gentler than he had been with you or Hermione, taking mercy on Harry for being so new at this. It was an easy back and forth that gathered drool on his chin and soon at him moaning around Ron’s cock as he enjoyed the fullness on his tongue. 

You let out a moan of your own when you felt Hermione’s fingers prodding at your well-used pussy and felt her soft lips lingering around the top of your mound. 

“Looks like Harry left me a little present here, hmm?” Hermione sighed, sounding overjoyed at the fact that Harry had cum inside of you. 

You knew that Hermione was filthy - pin you down and shove her hand up your skirt while in one of the carriages on the train filthy; sneak you into the Prefects bathroom in the middle of the night filthy; crawl into your bed in the Gryffindor girls dorm and clamp her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet filthy - but this was reaching all new levels. Even for all the things you knew of her, all the dirty secrets that the two of you shared. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

It just caused you to moan, especially when those fingers breached you sharply, taking you like she owned you once again. Her tongue prodded at your entrance eagerly as her touch caused Harry’s mess to spill out of you. She just lapped it up, filthy and eager. 

Her tongue worked on you so perfectly. 

You couldn’t help but to put a hand down and grip that wild hair, arching your hips to hump against her face as she fucked her fingers into you gently and tongued along your clit. She was treating your pussy lovingly, each touch commanding pleasure out of you, but not possessive or rough. 

It was the same way she handled tests, with a deeply ingrained knowledge making each answer meaningful. It was that beautiful thing about her that made her quiet and reserved in her performance, not having to command the room with arrogance or noise. Her tongue danced along your cunt with confidence and grace in a way that had your toes curling in minutes. Her fingers curled inside of you while she smiled against you, knowing how she already had you teetering on the edge. 

“Such a good girl for me.” She sighed. 

“‘Mione,” You moaned back at her, the loving nickname dancing on your lips as a warning that you were already close. 

“Oh, come on Harry, you can gimme one more.” 

You heard Ron’s voice grunting roughly above you, and when you craned your neck again and spared the boys a glance, you were incredibly turned on by the sight. 

Ron had Harry pinned under him, and now, rather than having his cock shoved down Harry’s throat, they were pressed hips to hips and chests to chests as you and Hermione had been before. Harry was breathless and gaping for air underneath Ron - from what you could see, Ron had both of their cocks in his large fist, sliding them together in a mess of cum, trying to milk another orgasm out of the spent, whining, overstimulated Harry against his own, still somehow hard cock. 

“Ron, fuck, please-!” 

Harry could do nothing but cry and buck up against the touches, desperately trying to suck air in through his parted lips, his cock weeping for more. It was a sight that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and had you squeezing around Hermione’s fingers, hurling over the edge toward your orgasm as she gently sucked on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, ‘Mione!” 

Hermione sighed with satisfaction and licked you through it, making your thighs quiver with your own overstimulation as she shoved her tongue deep inside of you. Seemingly, she was determined to lick you clean, to lick the essence of your existence right out of you. 

When she was done with this, she then began to kiss her way back up your body and shoved her tongue in your mouth again. You moaned with delight at tasting yourself on her tongue, and the lingering salty traces of Harry there too, and you held her face between your hands as you indulged in the kisses. 

You were only distracted from her sweet lips when you heard Ron’s voice again, even more ragged as he had another orgasm. 

“Fuck, Potter, take it-!” 

Him calling Harry by his surname in such a degrading tone made your stomach curl with a unique arousal, and it certainly got Hermione’s attention too. She planted her hands beside your shoulders and looked up to survey the scene while you cricked your neck awkwardly. 

Ron was kneeling on either side of Harry’s chest once again. His stomach was covered in his own mess and he was panting in an entirely filthy manner with his mouth open while Ron sat above him, fisting his own cock with the clear determination to make himself cum. 

His release splattered across Harry’s face in wide, white streaks, painting Harry’s tongue, his open lips, his cheeks, and dirtying his glasses in the most filthy manner that you had ever seen him - Ron let out a deep satisfied grunt as he came, and his cock finally softened in his fist. 

(Perhaps it was because the part of his ego that had started the entire argument, the thing that felt jealous of Harry in the first place was finally satisfied.) 

“Ron!” Hermione called his name in her ‘scolding’ voice once again - perhaps she thought cumming over Harry’s face was just a step too far, just a bit too degrading. 

She reached off to the side for her wand, and for once in his life, Ron didn’t flinch. It was like an unspoken air in the room that she didn’t intend to curse him with it as a consequence, but rather - she simply intended to clean up Harry’s face with magic. 

“Just let me enjoy it.” Ron said, reaching out with his clean hand and stopping Hermione with a gentle grip on her wrist. “Just for a minute.” 

Harry - who seemed to be so fucked out now that he was barely present - let out a hum of agreement, and licked some of Ron’s cum off his lips. 

This gave you a brilliant idea. 

You gently rolled Hermione off of you and then you crawled over to Harry. With all of them watching you intently, you licked a path across his cheek, gathering quite a bit of Ron’s spend on your tongue before you shoved your tongue into Harry’s mouth - engaging in an entirely filthy kiss where you exchanged the taste of Ron between the two of you. 

It was something that reverberated a hot moan through Harry, had Ron groaning, and even caused a small sigh of delight from Hermione. 

“All of you are degenerates.” Hermione sighed, shaking her head, pretending to be displeased by the whole thing. 

“Yeah, and you’re our leader.” Ron reminded her with a laugh. 

…

When you woke up the next morning, the entire tent had a different energy. 

Before you even opened your eyes, you heard giggling. 

When you managed to peel open your sleep-stuck eyes, you saw Harry and Hermione standing at the small kitchenette, preparing what you guessed was breakfast. Harry was speaking quietly, and you couldn’t hear him, but it surprised you entirely when he made a grab for Hermione’s ass, groped her so boldly through her loose sweatpants. And rather than slapping him or scolding him - she let out another bright, air giggle, and simply smacked him with a tea towel in the most playful manner possible before he let out a laugh too. 

The events of the day before had not been some loneliness induced hallucination on your part. All of it had happened. And it had shifted everyone’s mood for the better. 

You moved to get out of bed and this drew both of their attention toward you. Harry proceeded to stir whatever Hermione had in the pot on the stove to distract himself while she watched you carefully. 

After you had successfully gotten your boots on, when you looked up, you realised that she was wearing one of Ron’s jumpers. Clearly one from a few years ago, something that would have been too small for him now that fit her well, comforting and worn-in with the large R in the middle that signified it had been made by Molly some Christmases ago. 

It was something she could do now without fearing setting off jealousy in any of you, and that fact made you smile. 

“Where’s Ron?” You asked, feeling a single piece missing from the quaint scene. 

“He volunteered to take watch.” Hermione noted, motioning toward the tent’s entrance. “Even though I’ve told him the wards are fine and he really should rest, you know he hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately-” 

“I’ll get him to go to sleep after breakfast.” You told her. “You know him, he just wants to keep a watchful eye. He’s protective.” 

You crossed the room, and in a move that felt so utterly natural, you gently kissed Harry on the mouth and then kissed Hermione - so out in the open, no shame, no hiding. You felt like a wonderful weight had been lifted off of you as they both smiled at you. Smiled - no jealous glaring, no arguing. 

You couldn’t have felt better as you grabbed your jacket off the back of a chair and put it on as you went outside. 

Ron was sitting a few feet away from the opening of the tent in one of the camping chairs. He stared out into the open as the sun crested over a nearby hill, just kissing everything with a bright, blinding streak of light. There had been a frost overnight that coated everything in bitter white and put an awful chill in the air. So you zipped up your jacket as you went over to him, and he gave you a small smile when he saw you. 

When you stood in front of him, he reached out to you naturally, and you easily gave in to his movements as he pulled you into his lap. There was a worry in the back of your mind about how well an old camping chair might hold the both of you at once, but you figured it would be a good laugh if you broke it. So you simply planted your ass in his lap and strung your legs over the arm of the chair. He wrapped his arms protectively around you and nuzzled his head against your arm. 

You frowned when one of the first things you spotted was that glint of silver poking out of the neck of his jacket. 

“Ron, you’re wearing it again.” You sighed, reaching out and picking up the Locket between your fingers, thumbing along the serpent with distaste. 

“I’m fine,” He replied, taking it from you and tucking it back inside of his coat. 

“Ron-” You were going to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Really, it’s not as bad as it was.” He said, his voice sounding genuine and light, sounding like the Ron that you usually knew. His voice wasn’t grinding, angry, or annoyed like he usually did when he wore it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, your curiosity most definitely peaked. 

“After yesterday, it’s like…” He struggled to find the right words to explain it, and you were patient with him. “Everything is out in the open now. Genuinely, I used to feel like shit, because… I was jealous. Proper jealous. And not just jealous of Harry… I honestly thought that there was a point in my life where I would just… end up alone.” 

Him saying those words broke your heart, and you swallowed harshly around the lump in your throat, holding back tears while he continued. 

“I thought that you would leave me, and Hermione would stop finding excuses to be around me. I thought Harry would realise I’m a shit friend and stop wanting to be around me. And I think the Locket knew that I just spent so much time being afraid - and… it turned that fear into jealousy.” He explained. 

It was similar to what you had believed, but somehow, worse. 

“Whenever I would see you touch Harry’s arm, or if I would see you and Hermione whispering, talking to each other about stuff you read in the fucking books… or even if I just saw Hermione look at Harry, I thought it was just one more reason I was gonna be alone. I thought it was all of you plotting against me to leave me faster. Bloody bonkers, I know.” 

“Ron.” You said his name gently, your throat clutched by those tears - you put a hand on his cheek and titled his face toward yours, gently laying your forehead against his before you said your next words. “We love you so much. We all do. And after everything we’ve been through together, we’re all just stuck with each other. So you’re definitely not getting rid of us.” 

“I know that now.” Ron chuckled. “I think that’s why it’s easier to wear the damn thing. Because now I just feel… lighter. I don’t feel like you guys are having secrets behind my back. None of us have any secrets anymore.” 

You nodded at this. 

“I like it better this way.” You sighed happily. “Truthfully, I could never see myself just going and… pairing off with someone. I just want it to be like this, always. You, Harry, and Hermione are the only people I’ve ever wanted.” 

“We’re going to need a massive bed, then.” Harry’s voice piped up behind you, his body just barely peeking out of the tent flap, his comment making both you and Ron chuckle.

“S’pose you could afford to buy us one,” Ron commented, causing Harry to roll his eyes and give a very sassy pout. 

“You coming for breakfast or what? Or is your gigantic cock weighing you down and you can’t get up?” Harry replied, his tongue entirely quick. 

You got up off Ron’s lap to let him up, and on his way into the tent, he picked up a handful of frost-covered leaves and shoved them down the back of Harry’s jumper. He let out a yelp at this, causing Hermione to call out ‘boys!’ in that entirely motherly way that she did. 

It was so entirely different, but so entirely the same. Truthfully - you would never want it to be any other way.

...

If you want to see more Poly!Golden Trio fics, I would like to see this fic reach 10 Comments and 15 Reblogs!

(This can include anonymous asks, because I always leave the anon option turned on for people who need it, and I don't care if the 15 reblogs all come from the same person, as long as it shows enthusiasm for the fic.)

If I were to write more Poly!Golden Trio, I don't know if it would be a direct follow up to this or set in the same 'universe' at this fic, but I love the pairing of Poly!Golden Trio x Reader, so I would love to write more about them if you guys want to see it.

I would also love to hear your input/feedback, and if you want to see more, what kind of fanfic ideas would you want to see with this pairing? What kind of kinks or situations would you like to see played out with this pairing? I often take inspiration from requests and random ideas that people send me - just like I did when writing this fic!

[pluvoia]

“QUIET.”

in which, TIM DRAKE can't take care of himself unless you make him. ‧₊˚✩彡 includes: tim drake x fem!reader, mature content (17+), established relationship, light angst to smut, white boy pls take care of yourself, sub!tim, dom!reader, making out, light groping, oral (m. and f. receiving), hand-job, ab riding, cowgirl, panty stuffing, choking (m. receiving), overstimulation, cream-pie, face-sitting, cunnilingus, cum-eating, masturbation, usage of mommy, praise, overall apology sex, brief hair-pulling (m. receiving), 4.9k words. kinktober masterlist.

IT'S RAINING. hard.

thunder rumbles and groans all through-out gotham, and even on the outskirts now as you've found yourself-- you're only slightly surprised the weather remains so vicious in her wake. droplets fall angrily onto the long drive-way of the wayne manor; unrelenting against the property's impressive expanse. the house itself, however, has become routine for you; no longer are you taken aback by its size or intimidation, your relationship with tim, one of bruce's sons, becoming a steady element within your life.

your car-- a shit-box you purchased only out of desperation (gotham's transit was unreliable on the best of days)-- came to a halt about a yard and a half away from the manor's front door. rushing out of the warmth of your vehicle and up the front steps of his house, you were greeted by, and this was just your luck, the manor's youngest master.

"you're here to see drake." damien said flatly. his grip on the large oak doors looked steady, and his brows were furrowed. "aren't you aware of the time? it is simply insulting to show up at another person's abode at such an ungodly hour," he tipped his head backwards, making a show of examining the large grand-father clock that was in the entry-way. it read eleven forty-six p.m.

your eyes rolled automatically at damien's comments-- another thing that had also become a steady element within your life. "yes, damien," you answered, stepping past the entrance and peeling off your shoes, "i am acutely aware of the time; that's exactly why i'm here, actually."

one of the boy's eyebrows cocked upwards, and his arms crossed over his chest. the glitter of a watch that looked far more expensive than you'd ever want to know almost blinded you.

"your brother hasn't spoken to me all day-- only once, like an hour ago, to apologize and say he's busy with homework." taking off your coat, you began your decent down a long hall-way to an even longer set of stairs going upwards, towards your boyfriend's bedroom. "i'm going to rip that computer from his cold, dead hands if i have to." you mumbled. behind you-- it sounded much like damien was groaning about not being that imbecile's younger brother, along with him skittering away to whatever he had been doing prior to your arrival.

good riddance, you thought (lovingly), now taking two-steps at a time up the stairs. if no one will stop tim from over-working himself, i will.

✩✩✩

that task, you soon found out, was easier said than done; tim was practically hunched over his desk, fingers working at an inhuman speed against the keys of his laptop. papers were spread-out all across the expensive wood of the table-top, and you heard the boy inhale sharply and drag a hand down his face.

"tim," you tried again, crossing your legs from where you had sat down on his bed, "please jus' take a break."

"i can't." he said simply, going back to typing.

the sigh that fell from your lips was almost laughable. almost, because there was nothing humorous in the fact that your boyfriend had not gotten up from his desk in at least four hours. "why not?" you questioned, patience wearing thin. "it's not good, y'know, to constantly be working this much--"

tim reached a palm out to grab the energy drink in front of him. taking a sip, he glanced backwards at you-- underneath his eyes, it was clear, they were thick with exhaustion. blue irises squinted at you momentarily, before something flickered across his expression. "i know, baby," tim agreed, lips still pressed to the metal of his drink can, "but i just have so much shit to do, taking a break isn't feasible right now--"

"over-working yourself to the point of passing out is not feasible! ever!" you exasperated, leaning backwards onto your palms. his mattress barely creaked at the newfound weight against it, and his sheets felt crisp and warm underneath your touch.

"i don't pass out all of the time," tim grumbled, turning back to his laptop screen.

you scoffed, darting your tongue out to wet your lips. "oh yeah? when was the last time you went to sleep voluntarily? and not because your body was running on empty?"

tim's own lips pressed into a thin line, and his silence was your answer.

exactly, you thought bitterly.

another round of thunder cracked above gotham, and you watched tim flinch ever so slightly at the noise.

"this isn't healthy, tim." you said suddenly-- to the boy, your sentence was far more jarring than the weather outside. he froze, fingers hovering above his lap-top keys. "you go days without properly sleeping, or getting any sort of rest-- you're constantly working on," you paused, eyes squinting at your boyfriend's papers and screen, "god knows what--! that's another thing, too. you drown yourself in work and- and all i want to do is help you, but i don't even know what you're doing!" you hands flew out in front of you, now gesturing to underneath his desk. his trash-can was practically overflowing with energy drink cans. "you refuse to ingest anything without caffeine in it, and you barely leave this house." you swallowed, emotion suddenly washing over you. "i don't remember the last time you and i went on a date, much less hung out without your lap-top third wheeling us." you laughed bitterly.

that got tim's attention. the sound of his desk chair turning to face you reverberated off of the walls of his bedroom. "don't say that," he fought weakly.

"why not?" you asked, voice wobbling. "it's true."

"i know but--"

"why won't you let me help you, tim? i'm right here, and you won't even tell me what you're doing. it's like--" your throat closed up. "it's like i'm just here so you can say you have a girlfriend. you don't-- you don't actually want to put in the effort to have one."

all tim could think to say was your name. it came off of his tongue all crooked, his voice breaking-- due to exhaustion or something else, you couldn't tell. "that's not true, baby,"

"well then act like it." you replied sharply. "take care of yourself-- shit, just let me take care of you, so you can act like you want this relationship to last."

rain pattered against the large windows of tim's bedroom rapidly; each one leaving a trail, just to have it replaced by another's.

"act like i matter enough for you to trust me." you whispered, eyes boring into tim's. he blinked silently, dark lashes resting heavily against his pale cheeks as he breathed in and out. underneath his sweatshirt, you could see the soft rise and fall of his chest. "why do i have to drive to your house at midnight for you to even talk to me, tim? that's not fair."

there was a long stretch of silence before either of you spoke again; you could tell, the moment you had said the words-- something in the air of the room had shifted heavily.

tim didn't turn around and start typing again. he didn't speak, didn't breathe. just sat, watching you, for what felt like an eternity-- before he reached behind him and shut his laptop closed. it was slow, the sound of the screen meeting the lower half of it a stark contrast to the weight of your words. despite the speed in which he did it, there was no apprehension in his action-- as if, in it, he had made a decision. one that was final.

it looks like tim is thinking; his posture, the way he leaned onto his elbows and the way his forehead had crinkled-- it'd be almost impossible not to see the cogs turning in his mind.

it almost makes you upset, because even in moments like this-- tim cannot shut his brain off, cannot stop thinking, cannot let himself go.

suddenly, he stands. in a few strides, he's crossed the room-- lowering himself onto the bed beside you, tim cautiously brings a palm to the side of your cheek. his hands are cool against your flushed skin-- the contrast in your bodies making your head spin, and a rush travel down your spine. "i never meant to make you feel that way," tim starts, swallowing, "nor was i trying to push you away."

icey blue irises look deep into your own, scanning you-- trying to pick your brain apart; as if your emotions are a puzzle he can solve. there's an earnestness to this search, though, and your heart clenches.

"i just... once i get sucked into my work, i just don't know how to stop,"

you exhale, and some of the heat from your chest dissipates. despite yourself, you turn into his touch, pressing your face deeper into his palm. it isn't an acceptance of his apology, but it is an allowance to be close. tim looks almost startled at the fact that you hadn't pulled away.

his shoulders drop. like the weight of something has finally begun to be lifted from his chest, like something has finally given out. tim shifts closer, hesitantly, causing your thighs to press against each other's. his eyes glance downwards at the contact as if he's expecting you to push back; you don't.

"i'm sorry," he whispers so quietly, you have to strain to hear it. it's soft, not defensive-- quiet, honest, and drained.

"you don't have to figure everything out all at once," you offer, voice just as low. you have to look upwards, ever so slightly, to maintain eye-contact with your boyfriend-- and your words brush against his bottom lip. "just let me help you figure out whatever is going on right now."

tim pauses, his thumb stuttering against your cheek. when he breathes, it's intense in a quiet sort of way; "i don't know," he starts, "how to stop unless somebody tells me to."

an eyebrow of yours quirks upwards at his comment.

"i don't know how to do things that i really mean, unless somebody tells me how to do it," tim swallows, and you watch his adam's apple bob up and down. "i really, really, want to make it up to you-- because i hate that i ever would have made you feel that way in the first place, like you're not the most important thing in my life-- so tell me how."

"tim," you murmur.

"tell me how to apologize to you properly." tim's vision flickers to your lips, his grip on your jaw tilting your own head up closer to his-- to make it easier for him to slot his plump lips against your own. "i'll be--" the hint of a blush suddenly creeps onto tim's face, heat blooming and crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, "i'll be so good for you."

"you'll be good for me?" you question. your mouths now are so close, what little gap remains burns with a fiery anticipation.

tim nods, licking his lips.

wordlessly, your mouths connect-- and tim is kissing you like he's never done so before. it was hesitant, in its first few moments; practiced, respectful. but as your arms looped around your boyfriend's neck and you tilted your head further to deepen the kiss, tim groaned-- opening his mouth against yours to allow your tongue to entangle itself with his.

you can feel tim's breathing growing ragged and uneven beside you-- his hands wandering, once aimlessly, with a certain passion and purpose now across your skin. fingers hooking into the edges of your shirt, pushing past and onto the expanse of your stomach-- the nape of your neck, pulling you into him as if you're the only thing that he craves.

you pull away from him, only in search of oxygen-- tim's face falls with a certain desperation, his lips swollen and slick with saliva as he chases your mouth. a chuckle leaves your throat, and you lean forward to press open-mouthed kisses to tim's throat. his breathing stutters as you sigh against his skin, "you're so eager, baby."

tim whines at your actions, moving forward and into your touch. "god," he shivers, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he feels your tongue lick a singular stripe up from the base of his neck to directly underneath his ear.

"i know." you whisper against the shell of his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling away. "lay back," you instruct, pointing to the end of tim's bed.

your boyfriend listens wordlessly, scooting himself right up against his bed-frame; tim's face is flushed, a pretty shade of pink washed over his cheeks, nose and ears. black locks fall into his eyes softly, messily tangled from where they linger near the nape of his neck.

tim is beautiful.

you crawl up onto the mattress, slowly and tantalizingly, before stopping right in between tim's legs. his mouth was parted as he watched you closely, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. "good boy," you praise softly, pressing your hands underneath his shirt. sitting forward on your knees, you're able to lean down and press kisses to tim's stomach and abs.

tim gasps softly, fingers threading themselves into your hair and holding your head steady. "i was going to apologize to you,"

blinking up at him, yet still remaining connected to his skin via your lips, you hum in question of his statement.

tim swallows as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants.

"well, uh, y'know," he states quietly, blushing furiously as his pants begin to fall past his waist.

you tap underneath his thighs to get him to tilt his hips forward, allowing you to take his pants off completely. "no, baby, i don't."

tim whines.

"say what you mean with your chest, or you're not getting anything."

"y-you don't have to do this," he stutters out, "i want to be the one to make you feel good, i don't deserve you doin' anything to me,"

tim's already hard as your eyes flicker down towards his crotch. beneath his boxers, the outline of his erection teases you-- and a low heart-beat within your cunt spurs to life.

"i think," you inhaled, pressing kisses to his lower stomach as you shrugged his boxers down, freeing his cock, "you're going to let me do whatever i want to you; that's how i want you to apologize."

you barely even give tim a chance to respond before you stick your tongue out and slap his dick against it-- the obscene sound, plap, plap, plap, echoing throughout tim's bedroom.

the boy gasped, hips jerking towards you abruptly. your name fell, broken, from his lips.

"don't you think that's what i deserve? getting to touch n' suck and make love to my boyfriend after him not paying any attention to me all week?"

automatically, tim finds himself nodding. "y-yeah," he replies breathlessly, watching you pop the tip of his cock into your mouth easily.

you suck on it for a few seconds, salty drops of pre-cum invading your senses already, before you take the rest of him-- inch by inch-- into your mouth.

tim shudders, jaw going slack as your mouth wraps around his cock. his moans, despite just starting, are already obscene.

tracing a vein with your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. tim gasps beneath you, moaning and whimpering, and you hollow out your cheeks in response.

"ooh, baby," he groans, legs thrashing as your head bobs up and down his length with a practiced precision. "you-- haah-- you're so good at this,"

you hum around tim's cock-- and he practically sobs at the sensation. the vibrations cause his whole body to tingle, his fingertips and spine numb with ecstasy. another set of moans rip themself from his throat, and you peel off of tim's cock almost immediately.

"shh!" you hush, fingertips digging into your boyfriend's hips. "i know for a fact alfred n' damien are home! you need to keep it down," you warn, before dipping down and tracing a flushed vein with your tongue from his balls to his tip.

tim sobs, back arching off of the bed. "i- i can't," he whines, his forehead glistening with sweat as he watches you-- feels you, entirely-- take his dick back into your mouth. "i haven't seen you in so long, i- i forgot how good you are,"

as tim continues to talk, you let his tip hit the back of your throat; your eyes water, tears spilling involuntarily onto your cheeks and down your face as your nose gets pressed against his lower stomach. tim's whole body shivers as you have him all the way into your mouth.

"i-- oh god-- m'sensitive!" tim cries, pressing one of his hands over his mouth to muffle his moans. hips rocking steadily to meet the way your head bobs up and down on his cock, the air has practically been stolen from tim's lungs.

when you take yourself off of tim's dick-- the tip flushed angrily, and leaking a pretty, pearlescent substance-- a string of saliva keeps you bound to the boy's appendage. "you're sensitive, huh?" you ask, mockingly, wrapping a hand around him to pump. the sound is nothing short of pornographic; your boyfriend's alluring blue irises fogging over with tears as your pace against his cock is absurdly fast-- far too fast for the boy to handle.

he yelps, head tilting backwards and hitting his bed-frame; a shiny layer of sweat coats his neck and face, accompanied by the blush against tim's pale skin. "yes!" he sobs, thrusting into your touch.

at his exclamation, you grin-- hand only pumping him harder, deeper, faster, as pleasure invades every sense tim has.

"i'm cumming," tim wails suddenly. his moans grow incoherent, head thrashing against the bed-frame and hips tilting and stuttering in tandem with your palm along his cock. his legs twitch, and your free hand goes straight to your boyfriend's neck.

it isn't painful-- but as you give a good squeeze to his throat, tim gasps, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. "that's right," you coo, panties practically drenched as you watch your boyfriend's orgasm wash over his entire body, "cum all over my hand like a good boy,"

your praises go straight to tim's dick, and his balls tense-- hot ropes of cum spurting all over your hand and his stomach. his jaw goes slack again, his mouth falling open into an 'o' shape as his cock twitches and throbs within your grasp. your touch remains unrelenting, the pace against his skin continuous, practiced, and evil, as tim continues to thrash underneath you.

"it's too much," tim manages, chest panting and fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

much to his dismay, his newfound tears only spur you on further. when you stop, tim thinks he'll be able to catch his breath-- until you sit up onto your knees and yank your jeans and panties off in one swift and urgent movement.

"the last i remembered," you began, straddling your boyfriend's hips and sitting flush against his lower stomach, "you're being my good boy, and apologizing n' letting me do whatever i want to you, right?"

tim nods, dick involuntarily twitching as he feels your slick meet his lower half. when you begin to grind subconciously, tim groans, his sturdy hands flying to your waist.

"exactly," you hum, the feeling of his rigid abs underneath your cunt only making you throb with anticipation. the sensation of it-- riding him-- causes short and yearning whimpers to leave your throat, "so you'll let me use your body i want to."

"okay," tim blubbers, hands gripping your waist as if his life depends on it. "please," he whines, "please just sit on my cock."

moans fall prettily from your lips as you continue to ride his abs, your clit being stimulated by every inch of his lower abdomen. "i know you can beg better than that."

the boy's cheeks flush deeper, and his mouth parts in desperation. "please, baby, please," tim groans, "i- i'm sorry i was a bad boy, sorry i didn't talk t'my pretty girl all week,"

"w-what else are you sorry for?" you question, hips stuttering as your cunt weeps against his belly.

"m'sorry i don't take care of myself, i will, please-- i'll be such a good boy, i'll take good care of myself for you,"

you sigh at his words, an easy grin spreading across your face-- in reward, you hover yourself above tim's groin, aligning his flushed and fat tip with your entrance. you give his dick a few last pumps, causing tim's hips to jerk at the stimulation, before you sink down on his member.

"ohh, fuck baby boy," you moan, hissing as he fills you up good, the stretch of his cock within your pussy divine, "that's right," you praise, "you'll take such good care of yourself for mommy, won't you?"

tim sobs as he bottoms out within your sopping cunt-- every fold and crevice of your wet pussy practically strangling his dick. "yes, yesyesyes, i will mommy."

a few moments pass as you adjust to his size, before you pull yourself up on tim's cock to slam yourself back down on him-- "good boy," you groan, hips tilting and grinding upon his cock steadily now.

tim cries, face contorting in pleasure as you ride him into the mattress. his mouth has fallen open, and drool carelessly seeps down his chin; clearly, he's far too fucked out already to care. "fuck, mommy, i--"

tim's moans are cut short as you reach behind you on the bed to grab your panties-- balling them up in your hands as you grind lazily along his cock, abruptly shoving them into his mouth. "i told you," you warn, gasping as tim's tip abuses your g-spot at your grinding, "you need to be quiet."

black locks cling to his forehead as tim nods, tears spilling onto his flushed cheeks; your panties, a deep shade of burgundy, contrast obscenely to the shade of tim's skin.

for the second time that night-- the thought floats through your mind: tim is so fucking pretty.

raising yourself up again, you start riding your boyfriend-- again and again and again, tim's cock pumps in and out of you. your underwear, whilst it compliments your boyfriend in the sluttiest of ways, does little to stop the boy's noises from seeping out. he moans loudly, each groan and whimper and sob echoing lewdly within the confinements of your boyfriend's room.

it doesn't take long for tim's second orgasm to approach-- a few minutes later, your riding becoming methodical and pleasure-inducing, tim's moans grow in decibels. blue irises widen, filling with a fresh set of tears, and his hands go from your waist to your thighs-- squeezing the plush fat of them in warning.

"it's alright," you soothe, huffing ever so slightly, "you gonna cum, pretty boy?"

tim nods erratically, his hips thrusting upwards to meet your own; at the action, the tip of his cock practically bruises your cervix.

"cum then," you instruct simply, letting your head loll to the side as his dick pulses inside of you at the command. his seed spills into your pussy, and you squelch and clench around his cock in response. unrelenting, however, your hips remain; up and down and up again, to the point of tim's legs convulsing beneath you.

your boyfriend sobs-- one of his hands, without your permission, reaching upwards to tear the panties from his mouth. he tosses them to the side and swallows, before he yelps. "it's too much--! i jus' came, i can't keep going, please mommy, i--"

"too bad," you hush, riding his cock with such vigor now-- he involuntarily throbs inside of you again. "i wanna cum all over my cock-- you're going to let me do that, right?"

"but i can't," tim tries.

your movements, much to tim's surprise, cease. you're breathing is labored, and despite the fact that he's bottomed out within you-- you're unmoving. "you can't?" you whisper.

a shiver shoots up tim's spine, the hairs on the back of his neck raising in both arousal and expectation. "well--" he fumbles.

"that's okay," you coo suddenly, mock sweetness dripping from your voice. you pull off of tim's cock, cunt aching with the desire to be filled again. tim's cum oozes out of your crudely, and you shift you entire body to hover over tim's upper chest. "if i can't ride your dick," you say breathlessly, dragging a fingertip against tim's bottom lip, "i'm just going to ride your face."

tim whines, nodding eagerly. "please, mommy," his voice is hoarse from all of its usage-- hands impatiently grasping your hips in an attempt to drag you down onto his face. "need your pussy on my face so bad-- please, i'll eat it so good,"

without a second more of hesitation, you take a seat riiight down on tim's mouth-- his moans at the contact muffled by your dripping folds. you gasp, back arching at the sensation of his tongue licking slowly along your slit. "i- i know you will, baby,"

tim groans at your taste, lips latching onto your clit and sucking harshly. more of his cum seeps out of you, dribbling onto his chin and into his throat. the taste of both of your arousals causes the boys hips to tilt and buck into the air, one of his hands leaving your hips to jerk himself off as his mouth continues to make love to your cunt. he continues to mumble incoherently against your pretty pussy, palms finding the flesh of your ass and kneading it greedily. holy shit, thank you, fuck mommy-- all muttered incomprehensibly against your pussy.

you're riding his face, hips bucking and grinding, with intensity now-- the way his tongue curls on the inside of you, against your walls, along your clit-- making you see stars. rocking forward further onto his face-- onto the bridge of his nose-- you moan whorishly. "t-tell me you'll take care of yourself,"

"i- i will, baby, i swear--" tim groans, mouth now freed momentarily as you grind yourself along tim's nose, "fuck, jus' like that, mommy, please fuck yourself on my face,"

his comments only spur you along further, a familiar knot beginning to form quickly within your core. your fingertips and toes tingle, and without warning, you sink back down onto tim's mouth.

tim's hand hasn't let up against his cock-- leaking and oozing embarrassingly with pre-cum, tim moans into your cunt as he latches himself onto your clit again. his voice is muddled and uneven as he speaks into your pussy-- the vibrations only causing that same bubble in your core to expand rapidly.

"yes, c'mon baby, jus' like that," you whine, grinding down harshly onto tim's face as your orgasm approaches. "you're gonna make me cum," you warn, head tilting backwards as ecstasy floods your system.

tim's head nods back and forth-- and the slick sound of him eating you out and his hand pumping his aching cock fills the room obscenely. "please," you're able to make out from beneath you, "please cum on my face-- please, please give it to me, i've been such a good boy,"

any energy you would've had to tease tim and contradict him flies from your chest as your orgasm rocks you-- cunt spasming and clenching around tim's tongue with such intensity your vision blurs. "oh, fuck, tim--!" you gasp, hand reaching down into tim's gorgeous black hair and tugging hard.

tim inhales sharply as you pull on his hair and it isn't long before you feel hot spurts of tim's cum splash onto your back-- his moans and whimpers into your cunt absolutely entrancing. despite his orgasm knocking the wind out of his lungs, tim still helps you ride out your high; his tongue continues to lazily lap at your pussy, milking every drop of cum (both yours and his) from your cunt possible. when your body begins to quiver from overstimulation, you pull off of his face and collapse next to him.

the silence that encapsulates the room, save for both of your labored breathing, is charged. it isn't until tim drags a hand down his face, licking his lips to gather what little slick and cum of yours resides there, that either of you speak.

"i really am sorry," tim says earnestly.

you tilt your head to the side to meet your boyfriend's gaze-- blue eyes clouded with little lust and a lot of guilt.

"i know, tim," you speak softly, reaching a hand forward to carress the boy's cheek. "i jus' care about you a lot. it hurts me to see you let go of yourself like that, when you get wrapped up in all your work,"

tim swallows, his palm coming to rest on top of yours. contrary to before, his hand is warm against your own. "i'm going to try n' be better for you, baby," he whispers softly. "'cause you and i both deserve it."

you nod, and lean forward to press a chaste kiss to tim's forehead. "good," thunder crashes loudly from above the manor-- but somehow, it sounds distant in the safety of your boyfriend's presence. "'cause don't think i'll fuck you this good every time you're on the brink of passing out again."

© PLUVOiA 2025 | PLAGARISM, REPOSTS, TRANSLATIONS, & AI FEEDING STRICTLY PROHIBITED. - masterlist

loren's thots: tim drake i need u so bad.. also my kinktober is SO backed up rn it feels shameful to even apologize but i really do mean it im sooo sorry yall i love yall sm im sorry im behind its js midterms szn rn so. ugh. but my inbox is open feel free to drop them drawls in them yall (aka THIRST pls dont acc drop them...........pls everyone keep ur panties ONNN)

loren's tags--!

@soggywhore  @inlovewithpsychos @battlebaesworld @amoreselli @68saturnism @stellacherryfairy @kryptonkiss @sixtoads @luckysalbum @unseenzombieprototype @thekentfiles @unclearblur @blv3rd @cassiecasluciluce@k4sey1st@needy-self-ship-jjba@solarsunset222@clarknsun @crushcunt@navyhaze@moviecritc

[bluerosefox]

Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!

"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."

Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.

"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"

But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.

"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"

An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)

"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"

"...Losers bet...."

Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.

"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."

He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.

Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)

"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"

Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.

Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.

"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."

"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."

"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."

"Talia."

Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.

So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.

It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...

Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.

After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.

And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.

He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...

[die-erlkonigin6083]

The two sides were glaring at each other. Or at least, that's what Danny assumed. It was hard to tell when people's faces where half covered. Neither side moved watching the other.

"Danyal. Come here," his mother ordered.

Nah. He loved her, just as she loved him. She wasn't exactly the sanest though. Neither was his dad, since he was a surprisingly popular out and proud furry. Danny was waiting. As soon as the two sides went after each other, he was going to make a run for it. His mom stepped forward, and the batclan leapt forward.

Danny dodged and weaved as the two sides clashed, trying to prevent the other from getting to him. Once he was pretty sure they were all distracted, he jumped down onto a fire escape and made himself invisible, running away. He couldn't hold it for long, but it should hold long enough for him to lose his tails for a bit. *** Danny was pretty sure he wasn't followed. He'd managed to make his way to the observatory. It was easy to sneak inside. He'd decided to use the techniques his mom had shown him. Danny was still tired from using his powers earlier. He paused at the gift shop, looking longingly at some of the posters, toys, and clothes. He could live without it, but it would be nice to have one of those.

Danny shook his head. He didn't want to steal.

Sighing, Danny moved on. He wanted to check out the movie room. It would be a nice place to sleep for the night, and he could fall asleep listening to the stars. Following the signs, he made it to the theater room. It was easy to find the console. From there, he turned on a video about the Hubble telescope and the James Webb telescope. Those would be fun.

Danny started them up, then meandered down to the rows of chairs. He laid down in the first row, spreading himself out across two of the seats. They were cushioned nicely. He'd been taught how to fall asleep when in uncomfortable situations. Danny drifted off hearing the narrator talk about the galaxies.

***

He woke up hearing two people talking, asking who had been the last to lock up for the night, how could they have left the projector running. Danny scrambled to get up and hide. It was child's play to sneak back out. His stomach grumbled. He'd had to steal food this past year in order to say alive. He didn't like it, but it was necessary. Danny made his way to a fancy looking grocery store that wasn't that far away.

His mouth watered seeing the fruits and vegetables. He'd hated them in his last life, but he appreciated them so much more in this one, where he rarely got enough to eat. Danny went in, looking for an adult to hang around who he could pretend he was with. There. There was an elderly gentleman stocking up his cart, filling it full. Danny made his way to the man and hovered around him, but not too close.

Danny stole an apple and an orange, hiding them in his hoodie. He also snuck a chocolate bar. Life was tough. Some sugar would do him good. Not only that, but chocolate was full of magnesium. That was an important micronutrient. He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard the elderly man say to the cashier.

"Add an apple, and orange, and a kit kat bar. I'm afraid my grandson has squirreled them away. He refused breakfast, so of course he is hungry now." Danny's head snapped up, assessing the man.

He had white hair and was balding at the top. He looked stern, but there was a kindness to him. Afterall, why else would he have paid for Danny's stuff? He followed the man out of the store.

"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," Danny admitted, scuffing the ground with his toe, ashamed yet grateful.

"No. There is a a small bakery and coffee shop down the street. If you help me put the items in my car, I'm more than happy to get you breakfast," the man explained. Danny nodded. It was a good trade, not only that, but it was easy to help the man. He told Danny his name was Alfred Pennyworth. Danny just said his name was Danny.

At the cafe, Mr. Pennyworth got some tea and scones while Danny got hot chocolate and an egg quiche with vegetables. It was really yummy. Danny tried to savor the drink. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something so yummy. Definitely not since waking up in this body.

"Some of my grandsons will be here shortly. They were in the area. I do hope you won't mind them joining," Mr. Pennyworth told him calmly.

"Okay," Danny mumbled. Maybe he should try to leave before that... he was kinda gross and stinky.

He didn't really have a chance to leave though, as it felt like just seconds later, three men entered the store. The oldest, silver just starting to enter his hair, sat down next to Danny. He shifted uncomfortably. It was going to be harder to leave now. He didn't want to act suspicious and attract attention though.

"Bruce! What a surprise. I'd thought it was just going to be Tim and Damian."

"I was the one who drove them out here! Tim wanted to check out the observatory," Bruce said joyfully before turning to look at Danny. It kinda unnerved him. It reminded him of his mother's gaze, picking him apart, looking for Danny's flaws. He hated it. He needed to get out of here!

"Hello there! I'm Bruce Wayne! Nice to meet you! Where did Alfred pick you up at?" Was this something Mr. Pennyworth did often? Danny thankfully didn't have to answer as the boys sat down. One was older, probably sixteen or seventeen while the other looked to be twelve. "Here's yours," the elder one said sliding a cup to Bruce. He then sat next to Alfred, the twelve year old sitting at the end of the table.

"Thank you Tim." He was turning to ask Danny something again, something Danny didn't want. So he decided to jump in.

"Tim! You wanted to go to the observatory. What did you want to see there?" Tim blinked.

"Uh, they updated the documentary to include new information since the James Webb telescope was launched a little while ago."

Perfect.

Danny has spent all night listening to that on repeat. He could rant about that telescope till he bored them and made them leave him alone! He just needed to be as annoying and know-it-all as possible. Time to channel Jazz. "Did you know that the James Webb was built to extend the capabilities of the Hubble telescope? It has a whole bunch of infrared equipment, that way it can be an orbiting infrared telescope. It's made with gold coated beryllium that way..."

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Why weren’t they getting bored? Why were they all listening as if this was the most interesting thing they’ve ever heard? Danny was running out of information to info dump on them about the telescopes. He had plenty of more facts about space and galaxies and all that good stuff, but the satellites and telescopes? Yeah, he was out. Tim had been surprisingly knowledgeable and had been a good listener. He’d mentioned some a University in Arizona that was known for their optics program and made some of the best and largest lenses in the world. Also how they had a great astronomy and astrophysics program due to the fact that the sky was so often clear there and it was relatively easy to find an open patch of land in the desert that did not suffer from light pollution and view the heavens from there. Danny hadn’t known any of that, happily drinking his hot chocolate while Tim explained. He was brought out of his thoughts when Bruce interrupted. 

“Wow. You know a lot about the stars. Would you like to come with us to the observatory?” Bruce was smiling, but it was softer this time and didn’t feel as fake. It still felt weird. Why was this family accepting him? It was really suspicious. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t. It’s your family that you were going to do with Tim and Damian,” Danny protested. 

He wanted to go. He did. But he shouldn’t. Also, this was Gotham? He’d heard so much about this city, who in the world were these people that they were like: ah, let’s take that street urchin in his ratty and stinky clothes to an observatory! Were they trying to kidnap him? Probably. Ah well, he could kick their asses when they revealed their hand and then leave. Danny was still trying to lay low and hide from his mother and his father, the Batman. Mother might suspect him of going to an observatory. She did know him, and knew that he liked stars. Probably? Was he giving her too much credit? She had him on purpose because her other son hadn’t turned out the way she wanted. Mother hasn’t been thrilled to discover his interest in space. No, she’d just wanted the perfect soldier, the perfect heir. 

She’d lost that when she’d killed her son and revived him in the Lazarus Pit. 

Older Danny’s memories had meshed with his younger, reincarnated selves ones, but older Danny had so many more memories and a lot more life experience. Little Danny? Not so much. The love he had for his mother had stayed though. 

“Oh, I insist,” Bruce said, putting his hand gently on Danny’s shoulder. 

Danny bit his lip. He glanced around at the others. Damian hadn’t said a word, just watching Danny. He had the same gaze as his father, Bruce, had initially. As if he was trying to look into Danny’s soul. Alfred looked serene and calm as ever. Danny felt safer if both Tim and Alfred would come with. 

“Will you be coming too, Mr. Pennyworth?” Danny asked, trying to give his best innocent and cute look at the older gentleman. He also subtly pushed off Bruce’s hand, not liking it on him.

“I’m afraid I must get the groceries home. They would not survive a trip to the observatory,” Mr. Pennyworth said. Danny frowned. That sucked. 

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to impose…” yes, nice and easy, get away from this nice but really weird family. 

“You wouldn’t be imposing! Don’t worry about cost either! I have plenty of money,” Bruce chuckled. 

“Yuck,” Danny blurted, then blushed. Okay, so he kinda hated rich people. He blamed Vlad. Tim let out a surprised laugh, although he tried to stop it as quickly as he could. Damian, however, bristled.

“How dare you say that! Father is one of the most generous men on the planet and his charities help the people of this city and those all around the world!” Bruce put his hand on Damian’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright, son. I don’t think Danny knows who we are. I’m Bruce Wayne, does that ring a bell?” It did, but Danny didn’t want to tell him that. 

“No,” Danny told the man before finishing off his hot chocolate. It was a little cold at this point, but it was still good. He’d finished the quiche during his discussion with Tim. Decisions though. He really, really wanted to explore the observatory while it was open and not at night… 

“I’ll go, but you have to answer one question first,” Danny told Bruce, looking up at him. He was going to have so much fun messing with this trillionaire. 

“Of course!” Danny was going to make him regret that. They would either let him leave or still take him after this question. Probably let him leave. 

“You’re not a pedophile, are you?” 

Bruce’s eyes widened, and he looked stunned. Damian stood up and started yelling. Mr. Pennyworth looked perturbed. Tim looked like he wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cry. What could he say? He was a bit of a chaos gremlin. 

***

To Danny’s utter amazement, the Waynes still wanted to take Danny to the observatory. 

They had to have some sort of ulterior motive. No one would have taken Danny after he asked Bruce that so bluntly. Were they connected to the Bats? Or his Mother? Either way, Danny was just going to use them a bit, making them go with him to every single exhibit, check out all of the telescopes, and watch as many of the movies in the theater as possible. Tim though, Tim had been the one to surprise Danny by getting him a few items from the gift shop. A little model rocket, a poster of a few different galaxies, and even some astronaut food. 

It was really nice of the teen. 

Damian had been extremely bored and clearly did not want to be there. He kept trying to tell Danny what to do and how to act, which just made Danny want to do the exact opposite. It was honestly fun to make the other kid mad. When he did, he would hide behind Tim’s leg and give the older teen the most innocent look he could manage. Bruce looked super tired from dealing with their squabbles. 

If he couldn’t handle it, he shouldn’t have invited Danny along! 

That led to the interesting conundrum. It was becoming dark, and the observatory was about to close. Bruce and his kids didn’t seem to want Danny to leave. It was super suspicious. They were outside now, Danny holding his little bag of goodies. While he could be subtle when he wanted to be, now really wasn’t the time for subtlety. Walking forward in front of the little family, Danny turned to face them. He was prepared to run if they made any weird moves. 

“So. Who’s side are you on? My mom’s? Or are you on the side of my dad, the furry?” 

[die-erlkonigin6083]

The Waynes seem surprised. 

“What makes you think we have anything to do with your parents? Whoever they are,” Bruce asked. Danny rolled his eyes. 

“Please. Any normal person would want to get away from me as soon as I asked if they were a pedophile. The fact that you didn’t leave me alone right after that? Super suspicious. I may be five, but I’m not dumb,” Danny told them, annoyed. Sometimes being so little was helpful, sometimes it really, really sucked! 

The three people studied Danny. He fidgeted. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question?” Danny demanded. 

“We’re with… Batman,” Bruce reluctantly said. 

“Yeah, I thought so. None of you really seem like people my mom would associate with.” Apparently, that was funny, as Tim covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his laughter. 

“Why would you think that?” Damian questioned, crossing his arms and… pouting? Ancients, was the twelve year old kid really pouting? It was only because Danny had been taught how to read even the most subtle body language by his assassin mom that he could tell the other boy was upset.

“Uh, you’re not all stabby and don’t really seem super dangerous,” Danny explained. That seemed to get Tim even more, as he made a strangled sound and pulled out his phone. 

“I need to tell Jason. He’s going to love this so much,” Tim managed to wheeze out. Danny was not waiting around till Jason showed up. He was getting out of here. 

“Anyway, good to know that you’re with the caped furry. I hope to NEVER see you again,” he told them cheerily. 

“WAIT!” Damian yelled, grabbing Danny’s hand. Danny frowned at the surprisingly strong grip. “Don’t you want to meet your older brother?” 

“Uh, no,” Danny told the other boy. Damian’s face went stony at the answer. “I’ve been compared to my older brother my entire life. Mother said that once I beat my teacher, I could learn his name and once I beat her I could learn my father’s name. I don’t want to know, though. Mother always said I was slower than him, I didn’t learn as quickly as him. I wanted to yell at her so many times that I wasn’t him! I’m Danyal. I’m Danny. I don’t want to be my brother. I want to be nothing like him! Mother boasted how he’d completed his first kill at three. I’ve never killed anyone. I love my mom, but she’s not exactly sane and really shouldn’t be raising a kid.” 

“So I ran away, and there’s no way I’m going to get involved with Batman, because if Mother picked him to be my father, then he’s probably not really sane either. I mean, he runs around at night in his fursona!” Danny argued. He tugged at his arm. “Now let me go!”

Damian wasn’t letting go though. In fact, his grip just got tighter. Danny tried a few techniques he’d learned from his Mother, but none of them worked. Damian had a smug expression on his face as Danny struggled to get away. Bruce and Tim got closer, caging him in. 

Well, screw that! 

“Yeah, no, bye!” Danny told them, turning intangible to Damian’s hand slid off him, his eyes ridiculously wide in shock. 

Not bothering to see the other’s reactions, Danny turned and ran, gripping his bag of goodies tightly. He heard them chasing after him. His legs were short, but all he needed to do was get to the shadows, then he could turn invisible and get away. It didn’t matter if they saw he had powers at this point. He just needed to get away. 

***

The bad thing about spending the whole day in the observatory was that Danny hadn’t picked a nice, safe spot to sleep for the night. Once he was sure he was far enough away from the Waynes, he’d dropped his invisibility then wandered. He’d received so many looks from others. Whatever. Danny could take care of himself. He could tell it was going to rain. He needed to find a place to get some shelter and keep warm for the night. 

Danny found a nice little space to hide and keep warm, under the roof of a large building. The overhang was large enough that it kept him dry. The thick stone slabs on the… bank. It was a bank. The outside of the bank was warm. Well, warmer than elsewhere. From up here, Danny could watch the street and everything that was going on. The bag rustling, he pulled out the model rocket, admiring it. It was really, really nice of Tim to buy this for him. It was a model of the Javelin, the type of rocket that was a spaceship and a jet. It was used exclusively by the Justice League. 

This type of technology hadn’t existed in his old world. He really wanted to fly in one. Or look at the engine of it. Saw how it worked. The specs on it. Danny wanted to know about the aerodynamics of the plane, the material used to make it both sturdy and heatproof for reentry into the atmosphere. He couldn’t always let his adult side take over, or dominate him. So Danny let his younger side out, making the Javelin fly around above him, making soft zooming noises. He thought about if he went with his dad, with Batman, maybe he could get to fly in one. 

Danny shook his head, dispelling that thought. 

It was a nice one, but he didn’t want anything to do with the Bat themed vigilante or the bird themed ones that seemed to flock around him. Danny just wanted to be a normal kid. Well, as normal as he could be. It wasn’t worth sacrificing his normalcy or his freedom to fly in a Javelin, as cool as it would be. Danny put the model on his chest and sighed. He tensed as he heard two people land on the ground by the entrance to the bank. It was Nightwing and Red Hood. Nightwing was hiding something behind his back, a smile on his face.

“That sure was a big sigh! Are you doing alright up there, Danny?” Nightwing asked kindly, giving him a small wave. 

Oh great. 

“I’m fine. Go away,” Danny ordered. 

“Okay. If you come down though, I’ll give you this!” Nightwing brought out what looked like a Build a Bear in an astronaut costume. It was tempting, but Danny wasn’t falling for it. 

“Pass,” Danny told him. Red Hood snickered. Danny eyed him. 

“Are you going to try and convince me to come down too?” He asked the anti-hero. 

“Nah,” came the robotic voice. A voice changer. “I’m just here to watch Goldie fail.” 

“Little wing!” Nightwing complained. Wait a minute. 

“Little wing? Red Hood is bigger and taller than you. How is he little?” Danny asked. 

“Well, he’s younger than me,” Nightwing explained, as if it explained anything! 

“So… Do you call people older than you Big wing?” Danny questioned. The logic wasn’t really logicing for him. Red Hood started chuckling. It sounded kinda weird with the voice modulator. 

“You’re a riot kid. I’m going to enjoy this.” 

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Red Hood might be enjoying this, but Danny was not. He glared down at the two men. Nightwing just cooed at him. What was wrong with the man? Why was he all excited about a moody toddler? Red Hood was staying true to his word leaning against one of the bollards in front of the bank. Weirdly, a couple of them were damaged. Were people so bad at driving in Gotham that they kept running into them? Or were there seriously that many attacks from proclaimed villains. 

Ancients, this place got weirder and weirder the more he learned about it. 

This place wasn’t going to work for the night. He got the feeling that Nightwing was like an overactive golden retriever puppy. Sorry Nightwing, Danny preferred Rottweilers and Doberman. They reminded him of Cujo. He really wanted to sleep. It’d been such a good day at the observatory messing with Damian and hanging out with Tim. He’d liked Mr. Pennyworth too. 

Too bad they were all associated with his dad. 

If only his mom had told him the names of his dad and older brother. All he knew was that they were Batman and Robin. Sighing to himself, Danny put his toy Javelin back in the bag, holding tight to it. He could climb out from under the overhang and then get on the roof, but with their grapples, they’d get up there before him and would be waiting for him. Danny would be captured, unless he used his intangibility again. That wouldn’t be good. His legs were hurting and he was tired, which meant he wouldn’t be able to told onto any of his powers for long. 

“Danny? You okay up there babbiest bat?” Nightwing asked. Red Hood snorted. 

“Babbiest bat? Really?” 

“Baby Bat is already taken by Robin! Red Robin is Baby Bird and you’re Little Wing. I’m running out of nicknames!” Nightwing defended himself, pouting but focusing on Red Hood. 

Now. 

Now was the time for him to briefly go invisible and phase on to the roof. Hopefully by only using his powers for thirty seconds or less, he could make his escape. Up he went, then running across the roof, holding on to his invisibility for as long as possible. They’d somehow seen him, probably on the cameras. Danny needed to be undetected getting into his next sleeping spot, otherwise they’d find him. He really, really needed to sleep in order to regain his strength and his powers. He was running on empty, and they were bound to give out on him soon. 

This time, even though it meant the vigilantes themselves might spot him easier, as the rooftops kinda made it easy to spot him. It kept him out of the line of sight from the cameras that were around the city. He’d heard of the Oracle person, that was probably how Nightwing and Red Hood had found him. As long as he was invisible, they couldn’t see where he was going, and he needed to get as far away as possible. 

Danny stopped on an apartment building that was only a few blocks from Wayne Tower. He crawled into the space between the air conditioner and heater units that were bolted in place. There, he let his invisibility drop. It was cramped, and if it rained, which was likely, he would get drenched. Danny had to try, had to try and sleep for a bit. Shivering, he curled into a ball and tried to sleep. 

***

Danny only got to sleep for three hours before the heavens opened above him, the rain soaking him to the bone. His entire body trembled. He was out of power, extremely tired, and cold. The younger part of him wanted to cry. The older part of him knew he had to get up, to go somewhere warm and dry otherwise he would die from hypothermia. Struggling, Danny got up and exited his hiding spot. 

He stilled when he saw who was on the roof.

Red Robin was sitting on the edge, looking out at the city. Hearing Danny, he glanced back at the small boy before returning his gaze to the city. 

“I’m done with patrol for the night,” the vigilante commented. 

Danny’s mind was whirring. How long had Red Robin been there? Why hadn’t he told anyone? How had he found Danny? 

“I’m about to head home. It would be easy to hide a small kid in my cape as I went to my apartment. The apartment I live alone in. Might even make two mugs of hot chocolate. You know. Just in case.” 

Some of the fight drained from Danny, his stiff and tense shoulders dropping. That sounded really good. A dry and safe space to spend the night and hot chocolate. It sounded too good to be true! Yet he couldn’t stay out here. Danny had half died once and died twice now. He didn’t want to die a third time and deal with whatever nonsense was sent his way that time. Slowly, step by shaking step, he approached the unmoving vigilante. Swallowing his pride and taking a leap of faith, he tugged on Red Robin’s cape. 

“Can you… take me with you to your apartment? I could… drink that extra hot chocolate,” Danny whispered. Red Robin looked at him and nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” 

It was nice, but still really weird when he was brought under Red Robin’s cape and held tight to the man’s (teen’s?) body. The trek across the city was quick. Danny was able to warm up a little. Red Robin’s apartment was high up and had a ton of security. Danny was ushered to the couch, and given some clothes. They were big for Danny, but they weren’t Red Robin sized. 

“Those are Robin’s,” Red Robin told him. Danny stiffened, looking at the items. “He stays over every once in a while, or sometimes he changes here after school. It’s not often, but just enough that Nightwing insisted that I keep some spares here. The bathroom is over there. I’ll be right in the kitchen, starting the hot coco.”

Danny sat there, watching dumbly as Red Robin took off some of his outfit, but left the domino on. The man clearly didn’t care that Danny saw him in his underwear during this. Once Red Robin was in sweats and a ratty tee shirt, Danny made his way to the bathroom. He stared at the clothes. He didn’t want to be like his older brother, but at the same time, part of him was fascinated by the clothing in front of him. 

It was 100% cotton, which indicated wealth. It was a solid green color. There was fur on it. That, Danny hadn’t expected. Most of it was black, but there were some white strands as well. Likely a mostly black animal with some white patches? The cuffs were worn, and there were slight wrinkles in the elbows and lower half of the sleeves. Danny’s older brother liked to roll up his sleeves a lot. The pants had the same type of animal hair and were of hush quality as well, not telling Danny much about his sibling. 

Danny heard cursing coming from the kitchen. He exited the bathroom, finding Red Robin trying to mop up an overflowing pot of milk. Milk tended to bubble up quickly once it boiled. Did Red Robin not know that? 

“Uh. Just… give me a minute. I have this under control!” Red Robin told him flustered. 

The kitchen was actually pretty bare except for a super shiny and well used coffee machine. The rest of it had a small layer of dust. What did the man eat? Take out? Said man was opening a dusty box with round chocolate orbs. 

“Nightwing gave me these. Said I should be able to boil milk and then just put them in a mug. They should still be good?” Red Robin questioned. Danny got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to answer that. 

After all of that mess, he got a mug that was filled with warm milk and one of the chocolate balls dropped in. Danny was ushered to the couch again. Red Robin gave him a ton of blankets to snuggle under. Then the man left him for his own room. Danny sipped his chocolate, thinking. Danny had taken a risk to trust the vigilante, and the vigilante had taken a risk to trust Danny. Wait, that was the sound of security activating. Okay, maybe not a ton of risk, but it was smart of Red Robin to try and keep a kid trained by the League of Assassins out of his room while he slept. 

He yawned. Danny really needed to sleep. 

First though, he opened the bag, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes seeing how the posters were ruined from the rain. The Javelin was fine, as it was made out of plastic. It was fine. Not all of his gifts from Tim had been ruined. Danny sniffled a bit, then sneezed. Setting his mug down on the coffee table, Danny wrapped himself in blankets and made himself comfortable on the couch, falling asleep almost immediately. 

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Danny woke up feeling horrible. 

He was shivering and cold, his head was pounding, and snot was dripping from his nose. He’d caught a cold. Danny coughed weakly. His immune system was pretty good, and it had always been good as a halfa. Not eating enough, not getting enough sleep, and being soaked for a while had taken their toll and how he was sick. 

Weakly, Danny stumbled off of the couch, clinging to the blankets around him. They dragged behind him like a little cape. He made his way to the door that had to be Red Robin’s bedroom. Danny knocked. It was faint, way too faint. Gritting his teeth, Danny knocked harder so it could actually be heard. He waited, swaying slightly. Oh, there was movement from inside the bedroom. The door opened, and Danny was looking up at Tim. What was Tim doing - oh. Tim = Red Robin. If his brain was currently trying to boil itself to make him feel better, Danny would think that over a bit more. 

“I don’t feel good,” he announced sadly. Tim frowned, reaching out to feel his forehead. Alarm flashed across his face. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely sick. Um, let’s get you back on the couch. I’ll… call back up and get you some kids motrin or something. Chicken soup, that’ll… yeah.”

Danny went back to the couch, cocooning himself inside his blankets, not before he grabbed the Javelin. It was his only toy, and he was going to hold on to it and cuddle it, even if it was a bit pokey. Maybe he should have taken the time to swipe the bear from Nightwing. It had been bought just for him. No. Danny shook his head. He could not be bribed! Not with gifts or toys! That was what Vlad did! It was scummy! The only reason he’d accepted the stuff from Tim was because he’d spent the whole day with Danny talking about space and the stars. He’d earned some of Danny’s trust. 

Tim came back, on the phone with someone, sitting down on the couch next to Danny. Danny wanted hugs. He wanted cuddles. He felt bad and icky and just wanted someone to hold him and tell him it would all be better. He couldn’t remember that happening at all in this life, and it happening rarely in his other one. Danny sniffed, trying to hold back tears. Why were his lives always so crazy and bad?

“-he’s got a bit of a fever. Can you bring a fever reducer? Can I also bother you to make some chicken soup? I um. I have no vegetables or food in my fridge. I have milk and coffee creamer, but that’s about it.” 

Tim was distracted. Maybe he wouldn’t notice Danny shuffling closer. Okay, that was a lie. He was a vigilante, he’d totally know. Tim had taken Danny in last night and given him shelter. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Tim ran his free hand through his hair, looking admonished. Whoever was on the phone was giving him a good scolding. 

“I eat! I promise! You know I can’t cook Alfred. Not like you and Jason can. Coffee is about the best I can do. I over boiled the milk last night. It was supposed to be easy, just warm the milk and then drop the hot chocolate bombs in there. Yeah they were good. See you soon Alfred. Thanks for everything.”

“Alfred’s coming?” Danny asked, his throat all scratchy from the nasal drip. 

“Yeah. He’s on his way with food and medicine. Um. Do you want to watch cartoons?” Tim asked. “I can make you some tea. Pretty sure I have peppermint. Alfred says it’s good for when you’re sick.” 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” 

Tim left, and Danny slumped in his pile of blankets. 

He could hear the sounds of an electric water kettle and the sound of the coffee machine starting up. Tim came back to grab Danny’s hot chocolate mug from last night, puttering around the living room. Tim was in a pair of boxers and an oversized sweater. Since the domino was off, Danny could see the deep circles under the teen’s eyes. Tim had to be a teen, right? Ages were hard to figure out with his brain a mix of old Danny and young Danny. Everyone was older than him, so it didn’t really matter that much. It was just how much older than him they were. 

The TV lit up, his companion using the remote to go to a streaming service. A show called Bluey was selected. He wasn’t a baby! He didn’t need to watch a show about dogs and their life! It… wasn’t that bad though. It was much better than Paw Patrol, which he’d seen glimpses of while he was fleeing Nanda Parbat. It made his chest ache though. He’d never had a family like that. Not in his past life, and not in this one. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He’d been reincarnated here, why was he given such a crappy hand again? Wasn’t the whole thing about karma that you would reincarnate into a better life? Hadn’t Danny been good in his last one? He’d been a hero, he’d helped others! None of this was fair! 

Danny was brought out of his thoughts when Tim set down two mugs. One was clearly coffee, and the other was the tea. Both were steaming. Tim left and came back with a damp cloth. 

“Come on, we need to put this on your forehead to try and cool you down a bit. I don’t have a thermometer, but it seemed pretty high to me. Are you okay? You looked…. Sad.” Tim said softly, folding the cloth and placing it on Danny’s forehead. 

“It’s not fair.” 

“What’s not fair?”

“This. All of this. I just wanted a better life. I just wanted to be free.” He wasn’t sure if he was making sense or not. He didn’t care. 

“Is that why you ran?”

“Yeah. Mom wants me to kill. Dad makes people fight. Neither was good. I just wanted to be normal. I want to be an astronaut. I didn’t ask for this,” Danny complained. Oh, he was a little dizzy now. The cloth felt nice, but he was still having the chills. So he still had a bad fever. 

There was a sound elsewhere in the apartment. He should care, but all he could focus on was how miserable he felt. There were footsteps. Two people came in, but they were blurry. 

“Did Talia give you the powers?” Danny shuddered. Weakly, he put his palm over Tim’s mouth. 

“SHHH. Mom doesn’t know. She was dumb. Hired this - this guy who didn’t like her. He killed me. So I got a bath in the green pool. That’s where the powers come from. But that’s where the - the voice, the other me is from. Older me. He said…. He said mom wouldn’t ever love me the way I wanted her to. She wasn’t capable.” Danny hiccuped, the tears he’d been holding back starting to fall. There was a crash from the blurry people. Oh, Tim was looking blurry too. 

“Said mom would never let me go if she found out what I could do now. So I practiced in secret. She can’t know,” Danny insisted. 

“We won’t tell her. What does this… other voice say about me? About your dad?” Tim asked. His voice was nice and calm. Soothing even. Ugh, he was getting tired of all the stuff about his dad though.  

“He doesn’t mind you. You like to talk about space with us. So you’re cool. My dad… he thinks he’s weird. Who runs around dressed like a bat? People who aren’t all there. But this whole place is weird. I don’t understand a lot. Um. Tim?” 

“Yeah Danny?” 

“Everything is spinning.” 

That was all Danny got out before everything went dark and he felt himself pitch forward.

[die-erlkonigin6083]

When he woke up, he felt a lot cooler. He was in a bathtub filled with cold water. Danny saw a few pieces of ice floating in the water. There was a man with black hair and a white tuft of hair in the front reading a novel. Not just any novel, it was Pride and Prejudice. He was big and muscular. It would have been more intimidating, if he wasn’t sitting clothed on top of the toilet. 

“Who’re you?” That’s what Danny tried to say, but it came out really mumbled. The black and white haired guy looked up. There were so many nicknames that were flitting through his head at this point. Magpie. Skunk. Cow. Panda. Penguin. Sebra. There were so many animals that were black and white. 

“I’m Jason. How’re you feeling?” Jason got off of the toilet, kneeling down beside the bathtub to feel Danny’s forehead. He had to move a damp washcloth to do so. 

“I feel yucky. But not as bad as before,” Danny reported. Jason nodded, removing his hand.

“Seems like your fever has gone down a bit.” That was good. “You up to taking some Motrin? It will help even more. Your choice.” 

It was nice of them to give him the option. Little Danny had never gotten to choose what happened to him. Mom and Grandfather had always decided for him. Was giving him a choice a reverse psychology thing? He’d be more likely to take it if he had a choice? Also, Jason was new. Danny didn’t know this guy, didn’t trust him. 

“I’ll pick after I talk to Tim.” Tim hadn’t lied or done anything to make Danny mistrust him. He also hadn’t pressured Danny. Jason nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll get him. We took shifts watching you.” 

With that, Jason got up and left the bathroom. Danny sat up a bit, the washcloth on his head falling off into the tub. He’d been propped up on some stacked towels. He was still in his underwear, thank goodness. The bathroom was sea themed, the walls a pale blue. The soap holder was shaped like a seashell and the toothbrush holder looked like red coral. There was a painting with palm trees and the beach on it. The shower curtain, which had been pulled back, was covered in fish. It was a cute little bathroom. He hadn’t really focused on it last night when he’d changed clothes, more intrigued by what he could learn about his brother. Assuming it hadn’t been that long since he’d passed out.

Danny brought up his knees, bringing them to his chest. Here, in the bathtub, he felt so small and alone. It didn’t last long, as the door opened. Standing in the open doorway was Tim. Behind him, Danny could see Alfred and Jason. Tim left the door open and walked in. Like Jason had, he knelt next to the bathtub, leaning against the porcelain tub. 

“Jason said you wanted to see me.” Tim’s tone was neutral. 

“Yeah. He mentioned Motrin, and that I didn’t have to take it,” Danny explained. Tim nodded. 

“Yes. You can take some Motrin, if you want. It will help get rid of your fever and some of your symptoms. If you don’t want to take it, you would need to get back in the ice bath the next time it spikes. We have a new bottle, unopened. I can open it in front of you, if that makes you feel better.” Relief flooded his body. Yes, that would make him feel a lot better. Never could be too safe after having grown up with assassins. Plus he’d been unconscious for a while. They would have had plenty of time to tamper with things. That did include the Motrin bottle, but it would be harder to hide that. 

“That. Can you open it in front of me and let me read the bottle before I have any?” Danny turned to the side, turning closer to the edge of the tub. It was faint, but he could hear Jason and Alfred whispering in the hallway. 

“It’s ironic how he likes Tim. Demon Brat hated Tim’s guts and loved Dick,” Jason mused. 

“I would prefer if you did not refer to Master Damian as that around me,” Alfred scolded. 

“Sorry. Habit.” Alfred merely tutted in response. 

Danny did not want to focus on that. Yet his mind was already whirring. Demon Brat. That could only be his older brother. Alfred had called him Master Damian. Which meant the Damian Danny had met the other day. Danny had met his older brother. He felt… conflicted. Older Danny lamented, as his older sister, Jazz, had been incredible, one of the best siblings someone could ask for. Danny hadn’t like Damian. At all. But… Tim had been Damian’s older brother. So that meant he was Danny’s brother too. Tim wouldn’t replace Jazz, no one could. But Danny was looking forward to an older sibling, one that he wasn’t being compared to. 

This didn’t mean that he was living with Batman! Wait, this meant Batman was Bruce! “Danny? Are you still with me?” Tim asked worriedly. He was holding the unopened Motrin bottle. One of the others must have brought it to him. He’d missed that. 

“Huh? Yeah. Can I see it?” 

Tim didn’t answer, handing it over. Danny skimmed the ingredients on the back. He also turned it over, checking the seal. It all looked good, so he let Tim pour himself some. Danny tipped his head back and took it like a shot of alcohol. That came from older Danny. Tim kept a calm, expressionless face, but Jason had clearly seen Danny throw back that little cup of Motrin, and he didn’t look thrilled. 

Danny got out of the tub on shaky legs. Alfred brought him a towel, and he reluctantly let the elderly gentleman help dry him. Danny made his way back to the couch, where he was basically swaddled in blankets. Danny refused to let someone feed him, insisting he could do it himself. Tim sat on the loveseat that was diagonal from the couch. He was resting his legs on the coffee table. After finishing the soup, which he’d thanked Alfred for, Danny sneakily made his way over to the loveseat. He wanted to sit next to Tim, snuggle into his side. 

Being sick made it harder than normal. He was so weak right now. Danny could tell Tim was keeping an eye on him. It would be okay, as long as he wasn’t rejected. Pulling himself and his mess of blankets onto the seat was the hardest part. Tim didn’t react as Danny slowly leaned against him, resting  his head on Tim’s left arm. He wasn’t pushed off, so he counted that as a success. Tim kept working, fingers flying across the screen. Not that Danny could see it, as the brightness was lowered when he came closer. There also seemed to be a privacy screen on the laptop. 

Tim probably had a lot of sensitive stuff on there, as Red Robin. 

Jason stretched out on the couch, returning to reading Pride and Prejudice. Not before snapping a picture of Danny and Tim on the couch. Danny glared at the man, but he wasn’t cowed by his best one. Darn. Thankfully Tim wasn’t having it. 

“If you send that to Dick and he comes here disrupting what trust I’ve built so far, there will be glitter in all of your safe houses and you won’t be safe for months,” Tim threatened, not even bothering to look up from his laptop. Danny couldn’t help but laugh a little. It came out raspy and ended in a cough. 

“Fine, Baby Bird. I’ll wait. I just want to rub it in Dickie’s face.” Jason didn’t sound that put out. 

Danny sighed and snuggled a little closer to Tim. He had a lot to think about. This was all good for now, but did he really want to give in and live with his dad? Tim was nice. How long would that last? How long would any of this peace and care last? It never had in his previous life or this one. Little Danny wanted to give in and have a family. Older Danny was skeptical. He was paranoid.

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Tim turned Bluey back on, and Danny watched it listlessly. He was still half out of it. Alfred came by, checking Danny’s forehead and talking to Tim and Jason. The rest of the day was spent mostly resting and eating the warm soup that Jason and Alfred had made. Eventually both of them had to go. After they left, Danny felt good enough to take a shower. He’d had to promise not to lock the door, so Tim could get in if he got too dizzy or anything. 

It was worth it though, to be able to stand under the warm spray. It had been a long time since he’d been able to shower. A few months? It was good to wash the grime from his skin and watch it go down the drain. Some of it had come off when they’d put him in the ice bath, but not all of it. Danny probably needed a haircut, as the wet hair was getting into his eyes a little. 

After he got out, Danny investigated the cabinets. There were a lot of interesting products in the bathroom. Tim’s lotion wasn’t as thick as the one they’d used in Nada Panbarat. He… might have put too much on. There was a surprising amount of makeup in here. And perfume. Well, technically cologne because Tim was a man. It all smelled horrible though. Danny ignored the cleaning supplies. There was shaving equipment, but nothing else that was very interesting. It was only after his investigation that he realized he didn’t have any clean clothes to wear. 

Looks like he’d have to ask Tim for some. 

Danny exited the bathroom in a towel, padding over to where Tim was still on the couch. 

“Um. Do you have any more clothes for me?” Tim looked up. 

“Oh. Yeah, Jason brought some. It’s in that box over there. Hopefully it all fits. We had to guess your size.” 

Looking through the box, Danny found some nice blue pjs with stars all over them. His heart clenched. These… had been bought for him. Bought because they knew he liked the stars. He went back to the bathroom to change into them. Once that was done, Tim seemed surprised that Danny crawled back on the couch next to him, snuggling back into his spot. Really, why wouldn’t he? Tim checked his temperature and made him take a bit more Motrin. Tim was hesitating. There was something he was worried about. Older Danny advised him to wait. 

“Do you… do you want to sleep in the bed with me? It will be more comfortable than the couch,” Tim offered. Ah. That’s what he was nervous about. Little Danny was practically screaming in happiness and excitement. Older Danny was trying to keep their cool and not potentially screw everything up. 

“Yeah. If my fever gets worse, you’ll be right there,” Danny agreed. 

He could pretend, just for the night, that Tim was his family, his big brother and he was Tim’s beloved baby brother. Ancients, that fever was making him a bit delusional. One night would be okay. 

***

He’d been with Tim for a full day now. 

Danny needed to make a decision. Was he going to stay or was he going to go? He was in limbo here. He couldn’t really just stay here with Tim, could he? Was Tim even an adult? He looked like he was on the edge between being a teenager and an adult. Tim did have his own apartment though, so probably adult? If he did leave, where would he go? Metropolis? Central City? Star City? Those all had heroes though. Heroes who were friends with Batman. That would surely get his dad to come and try to catch him. 

If he stayed here, with Tim, his dad might leave him alone? But he’d also have to see him. Was that a bad thing, little Danny wondered. Older Danny didn’t know. They had judged Batman based on how he looked. Bruce… had been weird and a bit awkward, but older Danny had been so, so awkward when he’d been a teenager in their previous life. Maybe Bruce had never grown out of that? It would explain how he had no shame when it came to running around in his fursuit. It wasn’t even that great of a fursuit, older Danny snarked. Their friend Tucker had made much better ones. 

Danny sighed. 

He was so comfy in the bed. He didn’t want to get up, but he was getting hungry. Tim was still out, the covers wrapped around him, drooling on the pillow. Danny sat up, alert, when he heard the security system beep, allowing someone in. 

“Timmy! Baby Bird! Are you sick and hiding? Alfred doesn’t go and make soup for just anyone. Tim?” called out a masculine voice. Danny didn’t recognize it. Worried, Danny crawled closer to Tim and started shaking him. 

“Wha?” Tim sleepily asked. It was too late though, as the door to the bedroom opened. 

“Good morning Sunshine! It’s -” the man halted in the door frame, his mouth open in shock. Tim’s eyes widened. 

“Don’t!” The man didn’t listen, running forward and leaping onto the bed. He was going to touch them! He was going to touch Tim and Danny! Panicking, Danny held onto Tim’s arm, turning them both intangible and invisible. 

“Tim? Danny?” The man sounded surprised and shocked when he landed on the bed, the springs creaking. 

“This feels… weird.” Tim said. Danny could see his faint outline turn towards him. “It’s okay Danny. He’s not going to hurt us. Dick’s just super physically affectionate.” Danny thought that over. He didn’t want to turn off his powers, not yet. 

“He’s the one that you told Jason not to text yesterday?” Tim sighed. Dick sat up, looking to where the sigh had come from. 

“Yeah. Dick’s over affectionate. I didn’t think that you’d… want to be smothered in his hugs and attention. Not yet. We’re still building trust here.” 

Feeling better with the answer, Danny let go of his powers before crawling behind Tim, peeking out at Dick. Oh boy. He could practically see Dick vibrating with the urge to hug Danny. No thank you! Older Danny didn’t trust it and little Danny wasn’t used to hugs. So it was a no go for now. Tim accepted a hug though. 

“I brought breakfast. It’s only for two, but I can go out and grab some more,” Dick offered. 

“Thanks,” Tim sounded relieved. Dick laughed. 

“No sweat. I can’t cook either. I’ll see you two again in about… oh, thirty minutes or so? That’ll be enough time for me to grab the food and for you two to get ready for the day.” Dick ruffled Tim’s hair. His hand reached for Danny, but pulled back after Danny leaned away. He left the bedroom. Shortly after the security system beeped. 

Danny crawled out from behind Tim. 

He’d made his decision. 

Danny would stay with Tim, even if it meant having to deal with Batman. Tim understood him and didn’t push for him to do anything and gave him choices. He was also totally aware of where they stood, that Danny didn’t fully trust him yet. It also meant Danny would be warm, fed, and taken care of. Yes, Tim was the best choice.

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Tim and Danny changed into clothes. He allowed his older brother Tim to check his temperature. The coffee maker got turned on and he got a glass of water. While Dick had left the two portions of food behind, it wasn’t nice to eat it without him also being there. Whatever was in there smelled greasy and good. Danny’s stomach growled. He climbed up onto the barstool to take a peek in the bag. Hash browns, sausages, eggs, pancakes, and more. All carby and delicious. 

“You can start eating. Dick won’t mind,” Tim said, sipping on his coffee. 

Well. He had permission? Hesitantly, Danny pulled out one of the hash browns. It crunched so satisfyingly, with a nice, warm mushy middle. Greasy food was something older Danny had all the time in the other world. Little Danny hadn’t tasted it yet. This was his first time. He hadn’t been desperate enough to dumpster dive for food yet behind a McDonalds. Danny finished the first one, then grabbed the second one savoring it. The security system beeped. Dick was back. 

“Boys! I have noms!” Dick cheered. He was grinning as he walked into the open concept kitchen and living room. He was carrying three bags of food. 

“Dick, how much food do you think we can eat?!?” Tim protested. 

“Not a lot. But I texted Jason, and he’ll be here soon. Oh! Here! I got them to give me all of the Happy Meal toys! I have a few things in the car that I need to bring up, so I’ll be back in a sec. Feel free to dig in!” Dick placed two of the bags on the counter and handed the third to Danny. 

“Wait a minute. You can’t just invite people over to my apartment! Dick!” 

“Sorry Tim! Can’t hear you!” Dick sang as he walked back out. Tim huffed. 

“Did you get anything good?” he asked, looking at the bag Dick had handed Danny. 

Honestly, he didn’t know. Reaching in, he pulled out the first one. It was Wonder Woman, her lasso up in the air. Okay, that was kinda cool. Flash, Green Lantern, Hawgirl, Martian Manhunter, Superman, and…. Batman. Annoyed, he passed Batman to Tim. 

“Can you put this in the trash please?” Tim took the Batman toy, looking at it and biting his lip. 

“How about I hold on to it? For now?” Danny didn’t have a chance to answer as Dick came back into the apartment. 

“Alright! Food time!” 

The three of them ate. Danny didn’t talk much, listening to the two brothers talk. He tried to squash some of his jealousy. It was so… normal and mundane. How was work? How were their friends? How was Tim’s boyfriend? When would Danny have a nice life like that? He’d really like some friends please. Honestly, some friends, a home, three square meals a day, and a nice normal kindergarten weren’t much to ask for. 

Oh, he needed to ask Tim if he could live with him. Permanently. That was a lot to ask though. Maybe he should do the long con. Ask Tim if he could stay for a bit. Then just just never leave. Yeah, that might work. Danny sipped from the chocolate milk that Dick had gotten him. Halfway through breakfast, Jason came. He slotted right in with the others. He felt… ignored. Unseen. Left out. Ancient' emotions were so much stronger when you were little. Danny tried so hard not to cry. Not to show how sad he was. 

He slid down off of the barstool, ignoring the looks he got from the others. They didn’t stop talking though. Danny went back into Tim’s bedroom and climbed onto his bed. He spent a few minutes dragging all of the blankets into the corner, where the mattress was pressed against the wall. His little nest of blankets. Maybe he could pretend for a little bit that he was being held and snuggled by his older brother Tim. He was being stupid though. Getting so attached to some guy who had shown him kindness. Expecting to fit right in, when they’d all been brothers for years. 

It still hurt though. 

He wished he could fast forward. To where Tim and the others trusted him and he trusted them. Then he could get the physical affection he craved safely. Danny was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on the open door. Tim entered, but stayed by the doorway. 

“Danny? Are you feeling okay?” It was nice that Tim was checking on him. It was probably because he’d been sick. 

“M’fine,” he mumbled. Tim clearly didn’t believe him, crawling in bed to feel his forehead. Danny let him. 

“You’re not warm.” Tim looked into Danny’s eyes. He squirmed. It felt like Tim was analyzing him, staring into his very soul. 

Seeing something in there, Tim just… picked him up. Danny didn’t protest. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s Tim’s neck, burying his face into the man’s T-shirt. Tim let out a short, surprised laugh. Danny got carried back out to the group. He turned to pout and glare a little at Jason and Dick. He wanted some alone time with his brother Tim! Dick in particular looked smug. 

“Told you,” he said with a blinding grin. 

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I didn’t fully believe it, but you were totally right,” Tim responded. 

“You’re the chosen one, Timbo,” Jason teased. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Danny didn’t mind anymore, that the brothers were talking. He was snuggled against Tim. His brother person. 

***

The rest of the day wasn’t bad. It also wasn’t great. Danny played a bit with the toys except for Batman. He had the Justice League fly around in the Javelin. While Tim hadn’t been willing to throw Batman, Jason had. He’d done it pretty gleefully too. Dick had rescued the stupid toy from the trash though. Whatever. It was pretty clear Dick was Nightwing and Jason was the Red Hood. He was smart. Also, Dick had brought out the astronaut Build a Bear toy. Overall, the day hadn’t been bad. Dick had left, but Jason was lingering. He’d made a really nice sage and apple chicken dinner with peas and mashed potatoes. It had been really good. 

Danny put down the toy Javelin. 

Something felt off, felt wrong. 

Little Danny had gotten it beat into him to always follow his instincts. He got up and went over to Tim, tugging on his pants. 

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know what,” he alerted his brother Tim. Immediately, Tim’s hand went to his forehead. Danny batted it away. 

“No, I’m not sick again. It’s something else, I don’t -” 

Danny didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as the security system went off. Next thing he knew, there was the sound of an explosion outside, and the living room wall became dented and discolored. 

“Fuck!” Jason cursed. “Tim!” Danny yelped as he was lifted into the air. 

“I”ve got Danny! I’m going to set off the emergency beacon! B, Nightwing, and Robin are on patrol tonight. My gear’s in the bedroom and in the hall. You think you can hold ‘em off?” Tim yelled over the sound of another explosion. The wall was buckling. It wasn’t going to withstand another hit. 

“You got it. My gear’s downstairs on my bike. There’s plenty of kitchen knives though,” Jason responded with a vicious grin. 

Danny felt like a football as he was carried into the bedroom. He was lightly tossed onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Tim hurriedly stripped and opened a panel in the wall, frantically changing into his outfit. Once he was dressed, Tim looked back at him. 

“Stay.”

Danny huffed. Yeah, no. Danny wandered out, behind Tim. The wall was broken, and there were ninjas. Specifically members of the League of Assassins. His mother was there too, looking as calm and poised as ever. 

“Timothy. My father would be disappointed if you were to be harmed. Do step aside. I merely wish to collect my son,” Mother said. 

“Yeah, that’s not happening. He doesn’t exactly want to go with you. He wants to stay with Timmy,” Jason laughed. “Guess he takes after Ra’s that way.” 

“Really Jason?” Tim complained, his bo staff at the ready, body tense and ready to leap forward. Danny approached, standing next to his brother Tim. “Danny! Get back in the bedroom!” Tim hissed at him. 

Nah. 

Danny was going to help in this fight. If needed. The fighting started. Tim and Jason were holding their own. For now. Mother hadn’t joined the fight. She looked Danny in the eye. Little Danny wavered. This was his MOTHER. She’d raised him. She’d taught him everything he knew. Older Danny rebelled. Just because she was his mom didn’t mean that she was good! Talia had been cruel to them! She’d gotten them killed! It was her fault, her fault that they remembered who they were before, that their conscience was split in two. Hadn’t Tim been kinder to him? He’d taken care of Danny when he was sick. He’d tried his best to give him space and go at his pace. He’d gotten him food and let Danny snuggle him as much as he was comfortable with. 

Tim and Jason were losing. They were outnumbered. Mother was walking towards him. Tim growled, doing his best to keep all of the assailants away from Danny, uncaring of the wound he received. Seeing how Tim was fighting for him… they were in agreement. 

“Going ghost,” Danny whispered to himself, letting the transformation wash over him.

[die-erlkonigin6083]

All heads turned to look at Danny as light engulfed his body. He wasn’t going to have much time, so he needed to make every bit count. Gathering the ectoplasm Lazarus magic in his hands, he sent it towards all of the attackers. It pinned them to the walls and the rubble around them, acting like a sticky glue. Danny stepped out from behind Tim, trying to look as confident as possible. He was going to need everything he’d learned in this life and the previous one to confront her and talk this through peacefully. 

Shoulder back. 

Head held high. 

“Mother.” She was looking at him in awe. He figured he still looked like he had in human form, just inverted. He also had no idea what clothes he was in. Danny was… taller than his mother. It dawned on him that his ghost form was the age of her older aspect of him. That both made sense and did not. It was older Danny at the forefront at this moment in time. 

“Danyal,” she breathed. “You have been blessed.” Oh boy. Right, the League of Assassins was basically an ectoplasm Lazarus Pit cult. 

“Blessing. Curse. It depends on your perspective,” he told her, doing his best to sound mature and like an adult. 

“Being revived in the waters of the Lazarus Pit has given me clarity. They have given me a maturity I don’t want and one that has shown me the path you had placed me on. Mother. I love you. I know you love me. It is not enough. I desire companionship. Friends. Siblings. To feel safe and carefree. To be able to play. That is something I will never have while living with you.” Danny saw a muscle in her jaw twitch at his words. He kept speaking, injecting some of his power, making his words stronger and resonate with power. 

“Childhood is precious. The innocence that you seek to rip away from me can never be restored once it has been lost. The League claims to be for a better world and to rid it from corruption. Yet you would sacrifice a child? Your own flesh and blood to do so? Not only that, your desire for me to be strong caused you to have me train with a man who sought vengeance on our family; who ran his sword through my heart.” Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Nightwing, Batman, and Robin arrive. They were cautious, yet confused as to what was happening. Nightwing stopped to help Jason patch some of his wounds. 

“You are the cause of my creation. Yet you are also the reason I died. You are the reason I was blessed. The reason I have been cursed. You have soured the relationship between my biological brother by constantly comparing us. It will likely take years, potentially decades, for me to unpack and unwind the hate that I feel for him. There is a chance our relationship has been permanently destroyed. While I love you, this… power that I have been given warns me away from you. It speaks to me, telling me how toxic you are and how I will never be happy or at peace with you. Being with you will only make me miserable.” “I love you, Mother.” Danny took a shaky breath. 

“But not enough to doom myself to a life of pain and suffering.”

“It draws you towards your father?” she asked quietly. Ancients, he hated this. Talia was hiding it as best she could, but Danny could see her hurt and pain. 

“No. Someone who would willingly have children be vigilantes is not a healthy parent either.” Danny heard the muffled gasps and intakes of breaths from around him. None of them mattered at this point in time besides his mother and Tim. He stepped forward and cupped her face. 

“Mother. This does not mean we cannot ever see each other again. Nor does it mean that I hold less affection for you. Nothing will ever change the fact that I am of your blood. I beseech you to reconsider your path. It is never too late to take a different one.” Danny rested his forehead against hers. 

He hated that he had to be this cruel and to hurt her with his words. He had to do it so she would let him go. Mother had loved his brother enough to let him so, so it only made sense that she would love Danny enough to separate from him too. Talia stepped back from him. 

“Goodbye Danyal. I will stop my pursuit of you. Till we meet again, my little star.” She turned and walked away from him, jumping off the edge of the broken and ruined wall into the dark night. 

OH. 

She did know him well enough to know he loved the stars. Danny’s core throbbed and he released his hold on his ghost form, shrinking back to that of a child. The bonds holding the assassins faded, and they sprinted away, following his mother. Danny sniffed, tears falling down his cheeks. That had sucked. He hadn’t wanted to do that. It was necessary. Older Danny had done a good job. He wiped his eyes. Tim gently touched his arm. Danny turned and flung himself at his brother the older boy, sobbing. He felt bad. Tim’s apartment had gotten destroyed because of Danny. 

Danny clung to Tim. He didn’t let anyone else take him. Tim grappled them to the Batcave. His Javelin toy had been destroyed. Danny decided to ignore the fact that there was a smaller tracker in the body of the plane. It was obvious that was how Tim had found him a few days ago when he’d hid between the air conditioner units. The astronaut bear had survived though. Dick - Nightwing - wanted to take him, but Danny refused to let go of Tim. He even turned intangible a bit so Dick’s hands would go right through him. Danny didn’t want to leave his older brother person. 

There was a lot of arguing. None of them knew what to make of Danny’s affliction. That’s what they called his ghost form. They’d apparently dealt with ectoplasm Lazarus Pit water before. Jason especially. They hadn’t become half ghosts like Danny though. It sounded like they didn’t even know what that was. Tim tried to convince Danny to talk, to speak up and explain what he knew. He just grumbled and told them not now. He was still hurting. He didn’t want to sleep yet. But Nocturne was calling for him, dragging him under. He let himself succumb. 

***

He had nightmares. Could they be called that, if they were just repeats of what had happened that day? His harsh words to his mother and her walking away. Danny woke up a few times that night, tears falling down his cheeks and a whimper stuck in his throat. Each time he was encouraged to fall back asleep by a large, warm hand that would stroke his hair and tucked a soft blanket around him. After the fitful night, he woke up. 

Danny was still in the cave. He was on a cot, surrounded with soft blankets. During the night, someone must have given him the bear, as he was cuddling it. It was soothing, to cling to it. To bury his face in its soft fur. He ignored the man in the chair next to the cot. His father. 

“How are you feeling?” His father, Batman, asked. He wasn’t in his Batman gear anymore. Just a dark turtleneck and slacks. He looked tired. Danny shrugged, not wanting to talk. He looked around. Where was Tim? He wanted Tim. 

[die-erlkonigin6083]

Danny didn’t answer his dad. He really didn’t know what to make of the man. Bruce had been okay, if a bit overbearing at the observatory. He’d spent a lot of the time watching Danny and Damian and keeping Damian from exploding when Danny pressed his buttons. Batman had chased and chased after him. Just wanting to catch him and keep him. What did he want with Danny? He just wanted Tim. Tim was safe and nice and would explain things. He would give Danny a choice instead of just forcing him to do what he wanted. 

That was why Danny liked Tim. 

“Danny?” Batman asked, watching him carefully. 

“Where’s Tim?” Danny asked softly. He had regained some of his strength. He could turn invisible and intangible for a bit. Probably. The problem was that he didn’t know where Tim was. 

“Tim is upstairs in his room sleeping. Did you want to see him?” Danny blinked in surprise and nodded. “Follow me.” 

He hadn’t been expecting that. Grabbing the astronaut bear, Danny followed Batman/Bruce through the cave and to an elevator. He stood on the opposite end during the ride up, glancing at his father often. They exited through a clock? It was a cool secret door. He followed Bruce down some halls and up a set of stairs. He knocked on a door. 

“Tim? Are you awake? There’s someone who wants to see you.” There was a groan from within. 

Danny perked up. That was totally Tim! Turning intangible, he ran through the closed door and into the dark room. He jumped on the bed. Sure enough, eyes barely open, that was Tim. Danny crawled up towards his brother’s person’s face. He laid down in the crook of the other man’s arms, nuzzling into Tim’s chest. Danny felt better here. Safer. The door opened and a triangle of light fell onto the bed. Tim groaned, and hand flying up to protect his eyes. 

“It’s way too early for this,” Tim complained. There was a light chuckle from the door. 

“Chum, it’s nearly noon.” 

“Lies,” Tim said with a sigh. He sad up a bit, jostling Danny. Tim looked down, seeming to realize Danny was there. “Coffee. I need so much coffee.”

Right. He’d only been with Tim for a day or two, but he already knew that his brother didn’t function very well without his caffeine. Tim staggered out of bed, fumbling to get into his slippers. Danny slid down to follow him. Should he go for Tim’s hand? Yes, he wanted to hold it. Using a burst of courage, he took Tim’s hand. Tim stopped in the hallway, looking down at their joined hands. Oh no. Did Tim not want to hold hands?!? Danny’s face burned and he tried to let go. Except… he couldn’t. Tim gripped his hand tightly, then resumed walking, Danny following in surprise. There was a hum from behind them. Right. Bruce. He was still there. Danny had kinda forgotten about him. 

The dining room was empty, so they went into the kitchen. Tim still held his hand as he began to fill the coffee machine with ground beans and water. It was rather funny watching. Mr. Pennyworth came out from what Danny suspected was a pantry. 

“Master Timothy. Wonderful to see you up and about. I’d feared we wouldn’t see you until supper.” Oooh. Mr. Pennyworth had some sass and snark to him! Danny giggled. 

“Master Danny. Wonderful to see you. Would you like some hot chocolate? Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Can you boys wait that long?” Mr. Pennyworth asked this as he confidently strode through the kitchen; checking in the oven, stirring a pot on the stove, and washing lettuce for a salad. 

“Yes, I would like some hot chocolate. Thank you,” Danny responded. He liked Mr. Pennyworth, so he’d be polite. 

“I can wait till lunch is ready. Although I wouldn’t mind a small snack…” Tim said, sitting down at the table. 

Danny sat down next to him. Bruce sat across from them. Before he knew it, hot chocolate was placed before him. He sipped on it and Tim drank his coffee. Bruce was just watching them. Danny did his best to ignore his father. He still had his bear. He wished he had his javelin. It was sad that it’d gotten broken the other day. Alfred gave them a plate with some crackers, cheese, and little meats. It was basically a charcuterie board. It was yummy and he kept going. He stopped when he’d eaten about half of the board. Tim had eaten some along with him. 

The silence was awkward. 

He wasn’t going to break it though. 

When Mr. Pennyworth told them lunch was ready, all three of them walked to the dining room. Danny made sure to grab Tim’s hand again. Danny wasn’t expecting others to be there. He saw Dick, Jason, Damian, and two women. One had blonde hair, the other black. That could only mean Spoiler and Black Bat. Dick got up as they walked in. He had a large grin on his face. He pulled back the chair Tim had been heading towards. Dick patted it. 

“Thanks?” Tim sounded confused. That’s okay, Danny was confused too. He didn’t see a whoopie cushion or anything on the seat, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some sort of hidden prank. Tim sat down. Danny let go, as he was going to sit in his own seat. Even if he would have a hard time looking over the edge of the table. Danny was rather small for a five year old. He’d been taller at five in his previous life. 

Danny got what Dick was doing when he felt himself get picked up. Except. Danny didn’t want to be touched by Dick. He didn’t want to be picked up by Dick. He only trusted Tim right now. So he unleashed some of his freeze powers to make Dick let him go! He growled, angry at being picked up without his consent. Danny stopped as soon as he was placed in Tim’s lap. 

Oh.

Okay, maybe he could somewhat forgive Dick for that. Danny turned to look at Dick, wincing when he saw the blue and purple hands. There were even little ice crystals on there. The entire room was tense, and there were tears in his eyes as he was trying to hold onto a smile. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you were doing,” Danny explained guiltily. “I’ll fix it.”He reached out, to try and draw the ice and cold back into him. He could do that. 

Probably. 

Thankfully it worked as Dick’s skin returned to normal. 

“Note to self. Don’t pick up the baby without getting his consent,” the blonde woman muttered. 

“It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. I’ll know better for next time,” Dick said. Danny wasn’t sure if he really was forgiven. He cuddled closer to his brother. Dick pushed the chair in, so Danny and Tim were in the same seat. 

***

When Tim had gone to sleep last night, he’d acknowledged that Danny, Damian’s biological little brother, was attached to him. It was becoming all the more clear how attached to Tim he was. The selfish part of him loved it. He’d always wanted a little brother. When Damian had first arrived, he’d been so excited. That feeling had been killed quickly. Danny though. He trusted Tim, and no one else. Tim was the first person he looked to. Danny had tried to protect Tim, when Dick had come in unannounced the other day, using his powers to density shift both of them. 

Tim felt sorry for Bruce, that there was another son that wasn’t really accepting him. But he couldn’t help feeling happy that Danny loved him and no one else. He’d been jealous of the closeness between Dick and Damian. Now though. Now he had a chance to have that relationship with Danny. 

A close brotherly relationship that he’d always wanted but hadn’t really gotten with Dick, Damian, or Jason.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: Ugh, they're back again

Jazz: Don't make that face at paying customers. Do you want to make a portal back home?

Danny rolling his eyes: Yes

Jazz: Then we need to get enough money to buy the parts. If that means waiting tables at a barely legal dinner, where idiots hit on us, then we wait those stupid tables. Now go over there and get the Waynes to leave us a 200 tip.

Danny: Fine, but only if you do too!

Jazz: *Tighten her apron straps into an hourglass figure* Way ahead of you.

Danny: *Rolling eyes but does the same*

Meanwhile with the Waynes

Bruce: It's so nice to go out to eat with you all

Alfred: Indeed. It's a nice change, don't you agree, children?

Wayne kids: *hyperventilating*

Bruce Not looking up from his phone: The Fenton siblings?

Alfred: Indeed, sir. It seems like Master Dick, Master Jason, and Miss Cass are going to attempt to speak to Ms. Fenton today. Master Tim, Master Damian, Master Duke, and Miss Steph don't seem mentally ready to look Mister Fenton in the eye. Bets?

Bruce: Dick chokes on his fork again. Tim face plants on the table, and Steph once again speaks in gibberish after forgetting the entire English language.

Alfred: Very good, sir.

[uniasus]

Nither Danny nor Jazz were big flirts, but they learned together that flirting and a bit of skin led to bigger tips.

Danny tucked in his shirt, rolled up his sleeves to expose his forearms, tousled his hair, dabbed a bit of clear lip gloss on his lips, and strutted towards the Waynes with a try full of waters held in one hand. People had types, and the Waynes all seemed to like subtle strength.

"What can I get you this morning?"

He flashes Tim a smile, who slumps behind the menu. Dick snickers at him, but his own ears go red when Jazz flicks her fingers at him in a hello from across the cafe.

"Pantoast," Steph says confidently.

"You got!" Danny pulls out his pen with a twirl and writes both pancakes and french toast on his pad. The Waynes can afford the extra plate, and a bigger bill means bigger tips. "Toppings?"

Danny scratches at his chest, feeling four set of eyes follow his fingers.

"Pecs, eh, pecans," Steph sputters. Danny graciously ignores the flob, even as Damian scoffs at her.

Steph's flusters are always cute.

"Blueberry pancakes for Damian?" Danny asks. It's not what Damian always orders, but its favorite and the youngest Wayne always seems to preen when Danny remembers.

Damian nods, and Danny goes around the table. Most of what they order is heavy on the protein, omelets and skillets and eggs benedict for Duke, with extra tomatoes. Alfred simply orders orange juice and a fruit cup.

Danny touches Tim's hand, just to watch him blush. "Gonna try decaf today?"

"N, no."

"Double latte it is then."

Danny knows they have shit coffee, but the machine latte is okay. Danny also knows the Waynes can afford much better. They're here for one, okay, two reasons only.

He delivers the food with a smile, leaning farther than needed over Tim's lap to place down Duke's plate. He bites his lip while doing so for Damian. Brushes fake crumbs off his chest for Steph as he double checks he hasn't missed something.

Bruce Wayne smiles into his mug of bad coffee.

It's all fun, teasing the Wayne kids. Danny enjoys the tips, the family enjoys poking fun at each other. And when they're dining, the other patrons behave better. Jazz gets less taps on her rear, Danny less pulls on his apron ties.

Jason tried once, to ask Jazz out. She pretended confusion, not recognizing it for what it was.

They can only tease and play, after all. They will be out of here as quick as they can be.

Jazz volunteers to take over the coffee pot for a refill to get in some face time, and Danny sees Tim elbow Jason and Steph waggle her eyebrows at Cass, who ignores it all as she watches Jazz pour coffee without a single drop.

In another life, in another dimension, maybe Danny would be more open to one of them making a move.

Instead, he rings up the order. $300 for brunch at a three star restaurant. The Waynes can eat. And drink. Drip coffee is 0.25 a refill, and Tim's three lattes add up too.

$60 for a 20% tip, a round hundred cuz they're Waynes, an extra fifty for the flirting. It's not much, but it'll do for a guy with no papers working under the table.

He places the check on the table near Bruce's hand. He doesn't rush them out, and any coffee refills Danny is willing to pay for with his tip. Tim's not on the edge anymore, he's traded spots with Duke, and Danny smiles at him.

"Good luck with midterms. They're coming up soon, yeah?"

"Yeah." He's not as shy and squirmy as the others, but his voice is so soft around Danny. He likes being seen.

"Tell me how they went next week."

He flutters his eyelashes just a bit. Holds his gaze as he picks up plates.

The Waynes will be back, and next week Jazz will take the table. Week after week after week. Until the Waynes get tired of their current status quo or Danny finishes the portal.

He's got eight months to enjoy this.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I ADORE the small ways Danny flirts with them and Bruce smiling into his cup!!!

[captainadwen]

When the portal first turns on, all the lights in the apartment flicker. Later, they will cause the largest blackout in Gotham's recent history. For now, the momentary darkness is illuminated by a sputter of green. Danny's shitty miniature closet, now covered in metal gadgetry and wires, crackles with contained lightning. Their breaths catch.

And then - silence. The lightning zaps against metal. Green fades out, and the lights turn back on.

"No," Danny breathes out, stumbling into the portal as if to grasp the swirling ecto with his hands. He fails, same as when he'd tried to rip open a portal through his own powers, and his gloved fist slams against the metal as he lets out some truly vitriolic curses. Gotham had been educational in that regard.

For her part, Jazz's knees go limp and she slums to the floor. Her teeth bite into the meat of her cheek and she listens, mind blank, as Danny paces.

" - the safety switch is on, I'm not that dumb. Voltage was good - maybe the building cables are too old? How are we supposed to replace that?"

"It wasn't the cables," says Jazz, finding her voice calm. "We bypassed into the grid - "

"I guess we're going to have to change that back before we get found," Danny rubs a hand down his face and sprawls beside her, staring up at the portal's ceiling covering his closet. His voice is small as he admits, "I don't know how I fucked up."

He'd grown up so much this past year, his voice deepening and stubble needing to be shaved off with such frequency he'd spent a week preening about it. In the mirror he looked increasingly like their father, shoulders broad and strong. Jazz stretched out beside him and grabbed his hand, and together they numbly observed their hopes and dreams sputter around them.

"Do you think this is how mom and dad felt when their portal failed?" Jazz asks.

"Theirs didn't fail," said Danny. "The safety switch was turned off."

"Ambient ecto levels match Amity," said Jazz, forcing her brain to think mechanical analytics instead of psychoanalyzing herself and her brother, or worrying about going back to their boring, unfulfilling waiter jobs as they hustled for money.

At least they'd see the Wayne family again. Maybe if they were stuck here she'd flirt back for real.

"It's not enough," said Danny. "It was never enough to be a power source, that's why they blew out all the blocks. The calculations don't match - I know the blueprints of the portal and I know I matched it. Maybe they added an extra power source besides electricity?" He starts muttering calculations and possible fuel sources. Jazz tunes him out when he starts wondering where to get uranium.

A horrible thought had occurred to Jazz and she squeezed her little brother's cold hand tightly. It wasn't only ghosts who existed in the Infinite Realms, but they made up a majority of the creatures found. How did they get there? Ambient ecto, strong emotions -- that created shades, like the countless they'd encountered in Gotham. How did they cross over?

This dimension had been thrilling and concerning all at once. So many heroes, and so many insane villains to match, and aliens and gods and the safety of the planet got threatened every other week. At least it didn't fall to Danny to fix things, but. She's pretty sure at least some of those doomsday scenarios involved odd magics that sucked out the soul to power something else.

"Does death give off energy?"

Danny cut himself off and gave her a look. "Duh, ecto."

"There's the missing link," said Jazz. "It's gotta be, right?"

"What, death? I can't exactly build this on a graveyard. Can you imagine the headlines? Actually, can you imagine the bats?"

She sat up. "I mean. You."

"Me," said Danny. Then, "Oh." A nervous laugh escaped him, eyeing the portal in his closet the same way a mouse watched a feral cat. "You think. I created the portal?"

"You must have," said Jazz. The triumph of certainty forced her to stand up, pulling Danny up and clutching both his hands now. "That's the missing link. The extra energy!"

"And how is that going to help us?" Danny cried, giving their clutched hands an incredulous shake. "Do you want us to kill someone just to get back home?"

That snapped her triumph back to reality. She and Danny stared at each other. "And what if you're wrong?" Danny's eyes gleamed green around the edges. "We'd have just -- I refuse. I can't. And I can't exactly die a second time."

He paused. "I mean, I probably could, but - "

"No," said Jazz sharply. She was not as strong as Danny but he was unresisting as she hauled him out of the portal. His room was a mess of abandoned clothes around their packed belongings, strewn with metal parts and tools. They went to the very edge of the room, to the curtained window, and she spared a thought to hoping the green glow and flickering lights hadn't been spotted. The last thing they needed was the bats descending upon them now. Not when the portal was done. Not when they were so close.

"Maybe I'm wrong," said Jazz. Her body was between Danny and the portal, and it's gaping maw was not, objectively, hungry. It was just a trick of the mind. Her own racing heart acknowledging mortality. "And I mean, there's no guarantee it would work again the same way."

"It probably would," Danny muttered, looking out the window. "I did die again, before, when Sam - it worked again. And there's Vlad."

"Okay," said Jazz. "Okay. We can - "

"We won't," said Danny, sharply.

"Of course we won't," said Jazz. "But if we don't, then - "

"We could ask the Justice League for help ," said Danny without much enthusiasm. They shared a mutual grimace. "Like, 50-50 odds they do help us out. Batman isn't as much of a creepy fuck as he seemed at first. And Superman is downright cool! And an alien! They got to understand wanting to return home."

"And what are they going to do?" Jazz crossed her arms. "Stop saving the planet from Darkland - "

"Darkseid - " Danny corrected.

" - Just to help out two random people who can't even prove they're from another dimension punch a hole in reality? I refuse to be to be stuck here labeled as a supervillain just because there are actual curses on this horrible city with fantastic welfare resources that makes everyone with ambition go evil!"

"Shh," said Danny. He pushed the curtains to more fully cover the window. "Don't tempt fate. Or the bats. Or like, Justice League Dark."

Silence filled the apartment. "It's not the worst thing," said Jazz. "Being stuck here."

"Bats haven't yet figured out it's me doing lowdown vigilanteism," said Danny, without enthusiasm.

"You can get your GED!"

"I think American History is different here and I'll fail miserably."

"You can study for your GED," said Jazz, pointedly. "And me too. And Gotham U has pretty good scholarships."

"I bet we can seduce the Wayne's into paying tuition."

That made Jazz laugh. "We could. I think they've offered it, actually." She'd pretended at ignorance the first time, then demurred the next. They hadn't offered thrice, but it was only a matter of time.

"I can convince them to give me a job at Wayne Tech," said Danny. "Behold: I build portals that don't work."

She elbowed him lightly. "No guys in white to hunt you down."

"No crazy ghost hunting parents," said Danny, but his voice wavered.

"Yeah," said Jazz. She turned back to the dark, silent portal and bit her lip. "No parents."

"No friends."

"We haven't been very friendly."

"I miss them," Danny's voice cracked. "I miss them so bad. I want to go home!"

Even though he was taller than her now - an absolute travesty of genetics - he burrowed his face in her shoulder as they hugged. "We will," she murmured fervently. Maybe there was truth to the curses driving people evil here, because an insane idea took root in her mind. "We will. I promise." She hugged her little brother tighter.

When they separated and she calmly walked into the portal, Danny said, "What are you doing?"

"Turning the safety switch off," said Jazz, doing just that. It was a small thing, nothing like the original portal. Danny kept all the cables securely tied to the sides. After the accident he'd always been careful about lab safety protocols.

Accident. She can't call it that anymore.

"That's probably smart," said Danny. He rubbed his fist over his wet eyes. "I'll just. Unlatch from the power grid before someone realizes what we did."

"Okay," said Jazz. Her fingers were tight against the switch. "Hey Danny?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"Jazz? Jazz!"

The portal switched on. The swirl of green caught her abdomen, turning her entire body weightless. Then, the next second, while her senses struggled to reorient and her stomach realized it abruptly did not exist - displaced, moved into another dimension, ecto filling her senses like she could taste the color green - the electricity hit.

When she comes to, Danny is hunched over her. Her ears keep ringing long enough for him to start crying, and Jazz lifts a tired, heavy arm to wipe his tears away only for her hand to pass through his flesh. Her skin was blue, tinged green from the light of the portal behind them. He'd pulled her out of there. He'd pulled her out of the portal.

"It worked," said Jazz, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. "It worked!"

"You fucking idiot!" cried Danny, dripping snot at tears all over her. "You - you - "

Jazz's tired hand falls to the ground. She can't feel her heartbeat. Her entire body aches, nerves dull and firing at the same time. A faint scent of pork mixed into the ecto in the air like an army of ecto-weenies marching out of their fridge. Maybe she'd gone full ghost and her body was still in the portal, eternally suspended in the ecto with electricity running through it's veins: the conduit. The missing link.

Was it like this when her little brother had died?

"We can go home," she told Danny. It was what mattered now. He'd have to carry her body into the portal, but by all the Ancients, they could go home.

"You died!"

"So did you!" Jazz forced her upper body upright. "Come on, Danny." If she was a ghost, why did her limbs have to ache so much? "Hey, how do you 'go human'?" A nervous laugh of pure hysteria escaped her. "I mean, I should probably check - "

Danny sucked in a large, desperate breath. Then he cracked again. Jazz ached to comfort him. She focused on the humanity of him - slipping back to life, her heart beating in her chest, the exhaustion in every one of her muscles -

The window shattered. Her elbows slipped and cracked into the floor, through the floor, and half her body followed until Danny's arms hauled her back up and pressed her to his chest. Past his shoulder she could barely see the dark shadow of one of the local bats, illuminated by the green portal light because every other light was dark. Could barely hear those affected gravely voices say, "Holy shit --? Danny? Jazz?"

"Don't come closer!" ordered Danny through the snot and tears, hauling her further upright and ready to bolt.

The sudden movement reminded her of her stomach that didn't exist anymore. Her body fought between passing out and throwing up.

And it was that: the darkness tinging her vision that forced her out of it, less a gentle slide into being alive and more like tumbling down a slope. Gravity slammed into her and forced her back down, her hair turning red again, skin going from hypothermic to pale.

"Fuck yeah, I'm not dead," wheezed Jazz, newly human and alive again, and then threw up at the mouth of the portal her death created.

"What," said the bat. "The fuck."

[dcxdpdabbles]

It just keeps getting better and better!! I ADORE IT BEING POWERED BY DEATH I DO.

I feel like the Bat that crashed in was either Bruce or Dick.

[captainadwen]

"Okay," said Steph, pulling her cowl off and sprawling back on the debrief room couches. "Who bet for 'interdimensional beings'?"

"I said aliens," said Dick, through the comms. He was back in his Bludhaven apartment and, by the sound of it, burning pancakes at 3 am. "I think I ought to get at least some of the pool - "

"Perfect guess or bust," retorted Steph and Tim simultaneously.

"There's a death portal," said Jason, his voice crackling over the comms. "I get brownie points."

"Before or after you failed at asking Jazz Fenton out for the third time?" Steph shot back.

Jason scoffed. "Like you had any more luck? At least I got the fucking words out."

"I was working myself up to it!"

"We'd all be in the geriatric ward by the time you accomplished anything," said Damian.

Steph flopped her hand at him. "Shut up, puppy crush."

Damian scowled at her. His hair was sticking up hilariously, so Tim discretely angled a camera at him to snap a picture. Bruce caught him, but was a mark of the many screaming fights and occasional crying sessions this family had that Bruce only twitched at this rather than retreating to the rafters to brood over his many kids whilst they pretended to not have stabbed each other, repeatedly, in places that hurt. Tim sipped his coffee and turned back to monitoring the multiple cameras they had set up.

The one outside Danny and Jazz's room crackled with erratic static. It was actually an infirmary, in Leslie's clinic, because that was as close to medical care as a Danny's paranoid snarling had allowed them to provide for Jazz, who kept alarmingly sinking through solid objects and passing out and twitching from electrical burns. It said something that Danny's glowing green eyes and sharp canines did not make him less attractive, but Tim was nothing if not a champion of assessing his own mental state and moving the fuck on. After growing up surrounded by aliens and demigods and ghosts, a little inhuman snarl putting him off would be insulting to his friends and various previous paramours at this point.

Which meant: "I win," said Tim. "I did put down 'another dimension'."

"The fuck you did," said Steph, finally pulling out her phone to find the betting pool.

Tim swiveled his chair around dramatically to find his entire family scowling at him. He crossed one leg over the other and lounged back. "My evidence: their knowledge of history and pop culture is inconsistent, occasionally wrong, and if you trace the camera static that follows them long enough you find their early attempts at learning more about our dimension through library visits and setting up their false identities." How exactly that had been accomplished was still to be determined. Tim's bet was 'mind control' or 'magic' or 'both'. 'Both' was usually a fair guess.

"That fits for savvy aliens too," protested Dick, followed by the sound of his fire alarm turning on.

Duke lifted his head from a pillow to mute Dick's comms. Then he put it back down, huffed, and said, "Now that we aren't in crisis mode, I also win because they are, in fact, meta humans."

"No they aren't," said Jason. "Have you all forgotten the interdimensional death portal? It's right there. If they have the meta gene and aren't some fucked up pit demons I'll pay for the shitting betting pool."

"You're the one who volunteered to watch it," said Steph, throwing her phone down the couch, which meant she did not want to announce her loss. "Cass, just muffle him if he's going to freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"I think he should get a pass for that one," said Duke. "I think we should all freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"We are," Steph assured him. "In like, one business day."

Bruce let out a disapproving grunt.

"Don't take that tone with me," said Steph. "We were all understandably panicked about Jazz nearly dying and turning purple - "

"I thought she looked more blue, actually," said Tim.

"- and Danny pulling out the usual glowing green eyes of doom and anger and Jason having a freak out over a pit portal - "

"Fuck you," said Jason.

"So B, you can handle the usual logistics freak out, and I am going to just be happy we managed to get them medical attention for now and Jazz is not actively dying anymore."

"Already dead," said Cass, quietly, over the comms. "Danny too."

"That's a two business day's from now type problem," said Steph, but her expression was as grim as the rest of them.

"Is it though?"

"We have programs for this," said Bruce, broodingly.

"We know, B."

"They did not need to make a hole in the fabric of reality," continued Bruce, even more broodingly.

"B, all your wellfare programs and 'beings stuck on Earth get home' initiatives with the JL don't mean shit if people who need them don't know about it."

"They do know about it," said Bruce, downright morose. "It's always filled with prank calls."

Damian perched besides his father and tentatively patted his back. Tim snapped another picture and sent it to the Young Justice group chat captioned 'murder gremlin attempts to comfort progenitor, exhibit D'.

"Maybe they did send in an application," said Barbara over the comms. Her voice was filled with extreme exhaustion; like Tim she was pushing twenty-six hours of being awake. She was just worse at hiding it than he was because she did not drink her bodyweight in caffeine. "Maybe it just got mistaken for a prank."

"Or lost in the queue," said Tim. At any given moment on Earth there were at least three wayward aliens, one time traveler, and two beings from not quite this dimension looking to go home. The aliens were usually the easiest of the lot to fix, the time travelers were a hit or miss depending on whether their version of this reality still existed, and the interdimensional beings were often a JLD problem.

Which meant --

"'The ripples of dimensional weakness have been felt and must be investigated'," said Bruce, obviously quoting someone and hating every word. Steph started muttering under her breath 'please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna - '

"Constantine is coming," declared Bruce, with all the drama he denied possessing.

Everyone groaned.

Jason said, "He is not coming into Crime Alley."

[nerdpoe]

Danny's found a way to dodge GIW trackers, as well as his parents. Their equipment hunts ghosts, ghosts run on emotion; so as long as he keeps his under a tight lid and doesn't feel anything ever, they won't be able to track him.

It works!

He's able to run from them, and goes as far as New Jersey. The plan was to stow away on a ship, and go to literally any country that wasn't America. He goes to Gotham, which hosts the one harbor he knows where no one will ask any questions.

But because of how weird he acted (completely emotionless during a Joker attack), he was fingered by police immediately.

He's handed over to CPP. CPP doesn't know what to do with a teen literally so traumatized that they don't show any emotion at all, ever. He keeps just...walking out of his placements. Just leaves without a sound.

Luckily, he's always caught, due to those placement houses having quiet alarms and him refusing to run.

They call the one foster parent they know who does.

Bruce Wayne takes in the strange, nameless kid who refuses to talk.

On paper, they gave him the filler name of 'John Doe', for lack of anything better to do.

Bruce does everything he can to make the newest arrival feel at home. Damian, for as territorial as he is, actually breaks out of his shell sooner than expected just to try to get the new kid to speak. To emote. To do something. Duke tries the open approach, then tries the 'no one will ever know, everyone thinks I'm an innocent goody-two-shoes' approach. Nada.

Tim even tries to trick him into talking, but nothing works.

Enter Dick; Dick heard about Bruce's new ward, about the situation, and decided to see if he could get the kid to open up.

Danny though. Danny's in trouble.

The Wayne Manor is weirdly secure, and he can't just walk away like he did his other placements. He can't use ghost powers or the GIW and his parents will immediately know where he is.

He really, really wants to take Bruce up on his offer and just spend the day relaxing. Respond to Damian's attempts to provoke him. Overshare about space facts with Tim.

But most of all, he really, desperately wants to get in a Pun Competition with Dick. He wants to laugh at Dick's jokes, and learn coolass gymnastic tricks!

But he can't!

If he relaxes with Bruce, he'll be content, which is an emotion. If he argues with Damian, he'll get annoyed, which is an emotion. If he sneaks out with Duke and breaks the rules, he'll get happy, which, again, emotion. If he overshares with Tim, he'll get excited, which is, yet again, an emotion!

The worst sin of all, he can't even show proper appreciation of the food the Butler keeps making him!

And now there's even more people coming over!

There's a quiet girl who keeps reading his body language and trying to get him to dance ballet, a blonde girl who keeps trying to kidnap him to take him to BatBurger, a guy with a stripe of white who wants to take him to a shooting range, and it just...he really, really wants to!

He wants to do all these cool things with them!

But he fucking can't!

[mikami1992]

I have read all the comments so far…

but they forget something…

The Waynes are a multi-millionaire family who own an international company….

Now imagine that for some reason a member of the family has a mandatory trip abroad (check some offices, go to a gala, investigate something like civilians, etc.) and you decide that perhaps a tourist trip with new experiences can help your family. new brother, so they take him…

Danny doesn't know where they are going, only that they leave on a private jet….

Now imagine the bats that accompany him seeing how an emotional switch turns on in his little brother the moment he knows they are in another country…

[undercookedcatgut]

They test this theory out a few times. Like any respectable bat, they can't go off the statistics of just a one time thing.

...

Tim has the brilliant idea of pushing and pulling Danny in and out of the American border. Danny's emotions turn on and off like a fucking light switch and Tim feels vindicated. He TOLD the others it would work.

-

Alternatively, meta collars block the ghost signals. Doesn't affect danny negatively but like maybe limits his powers a bit. The Wayne's figure this out. Somehow.

[sakuravalenp]

One of the bats had the theory that the lack of emotion came from a meta-gene activating during the Joker attack and decided to try the meta collars (All the lab results were inconclusive so who's to say that isn't a probability?), just in case, they needed to try everything.

Danny feels like he's ecto-signal is being blocked by the meta collar and risks letting go of his emotions, just a bit, to test it's limits, but the collar doesn't block much, and is easier to just don't feel at all than trying to control how much he feels. So the bats get to see Danny's face gain some emotion (nervousness? Anxiety? Hope? Fear?) for a fraction of a second before he goes completely emotionless once more.

- Theory one: The meta-collar isn't strong enough somehow, let's try with one more powerful. -> Danny doesn't want to risk it again, so he stays emotionless.

- Theory two: Since Danny doesn't react with stronger meta-blockers, then something about the meta-collar gave Danny an emotion strong enough to come through for a second. Maybe it brought memories of something... something before the Joker attack? Was... Was Danny a victim of meta trafficking? Did they just re-traumatize their new little brother multiple times?

Duke feels especially guilty about this because as a meta, "he should have known better". The bats are not as eager to keep experimenting after that, but Danny continues to be emotionless, so eventually they have to try something else, right?

[faeriekit]

*cracks knuckles*

*****

There are noises. Danny ignores them.

There’s a plate in front of him that he didn’t put there. It’s good food—eggs and pre-cut slices of ham and, ugh, toast—

Danny clamps down on his automatic reaction. Nope. Suppress it. Toast is—fine. He can’t afford to hate it right now. It's fine. He'll choke it down.

He can’t afford to feel anything— Not anymore.

The chair across from him scrapes against the hardwood floor. Someone’s joined him at the table for early breakfast. “Morning, John!” they greets him cheerily. Danny refuses to look up.

…He think the voice is probably Duke’s. Danny’s been trying to resist the urge to get to know anyone, but, well…familiarity with the foster family comes whether he wants it to or not.

It’s whatever. It is what it is.

Duke makes one-sided conversation about his plans at school and his friend group he’s headed out with later. Danny refuses to listen. If he listens, he’ll miss doing the same with his own friends. If he listens, he’ll want to ask if he can come too, just to break the monotony inside his head.

And he can’t.

So he just. Pushes food around with the silverware. Occasionally takes a bite.

Chews.

Swallows.

The next person to break through Danny’s carefully cultivated lack of awareness is the smallest foster sibling. Damian. He walks through every interaction as if he’s the Gotham Royal his father pretends to be, and always ends up reclining at the table with a cloth napkin in his lap and impeccable posture. Meanwhile, Danny’s seen his foster father pick chips off his shirt and eat them during required movie nights.

“Doe,” Damian greets Danny. Danny doesn’t respond. “Thomas, has Doe eaten an appropriate portion of breakfast yet?”

“Ask him, man,” Duke lobs back lazily. Damian glares. “Say, John, have you tried the pool yet? It’s going to be summer soon; it’ll be something to do that won’t have you fried up like an apple fritter.”

“We will not be joining you at the pool, Thomas. I have enlisted Doe in the morning feeding routine for the barn’s occupants. We are otherwise engaged for the morning.”

“Oh, those were your plans? Glad to know your afternoon’s free, then. I’ll tell Alfred to have your bathing suits ready at two.”

The kid’s glare is potent enough that if he was a ghost, Danny is certain he would have already fried off most of Duke’s hair with his eye lasers.

They argue (or, well, Damian argues) about what Danny is meant to do today, but Danny has no intention of providing input. Bruce told Damian that animal therapy might be beneficial for his deeply traumatized foster sibling, and, well…who is Danny to say otherwise?

…Not that Danny is traumatized. This is on purpose, so it’s not trauma. It’s just. What it is.

His fingers twitch. Danny specifically does not see when both of the other table occupants move their focus entirely to him in the hopes that Danny might have another reaction.

He doesn’t. He stops eating.

Someone comes up against his side. “A jacket, Master John? The report indicted that the weather is still rather chilly this morning.”

His arm is half-slid into a sleeve. Oh. Right. Danny shrugs the rest of the jacket on—and then has to suppress the urge to be grateful that everyone is doing their best to take good care of him.

He goes limp.

Alfred is too familiar with Danny’s tendencies to make a fuss. Damian takes Danny’s limp hand, orders Alfred to prepare lunch for their return, and trots them both out of the house towards the barn.

Danny lets himself pet the animals for exactly how long it takes to threaten to improve his mood.

He gives up on the activity right on the cusp of something that should have been contentment.

*

“Is it safe to take John out of the country?” Dick asks, perplexed. “Barring the fact that he’s still a foster, and I’m pretty sure that it’s illegal to cross the borders with him…”

Bruce sighs, and crosses his legs underneath his desk. “There’s nothing for it. There’s been a direct, public threat against the manor, and everyone’s safety is at risk—especially John’s, considering that he’s unable to defend himself. The best solution is to take the jet, publicly and visibly visit a nice resort overseas, and wait for the whole affair to blow over.”

…Dick chews on his lip. He fights the urge to pace; half the items in the office are antiques, and if he gets too heated in the moment…well…he’d been at risk for knocking items off of cluttered shelves before. “Alfred will be stuck here, though. Won’t that destabilize John’s routine? There’ll be a lot of novel stimulus, and we don’t want him to shut down the way he…”

The way he had been when John had arrived, Dick is careful not to say. The micro-expressions and placidity John displays now are leagues ahead of the unsettling blankness, lack of engagement, and constant attempts at elopement. The only conclusion that they can draw is that John is, if not happy and content, comfortable in the here and now.

Which means that disrupting that here and now might have long-term detriments for their teenage foster.

“No choice,” Bruce decides, which. Dick doesn’t know what he’d expected. Batman would never pick someone’s mental health over his expectation of their operative safety. “It’ll be your vacation, plus whoever you think will be available to be taken out of the public eye. Tim will be sheltering with me to maintain his work schedule, and Cass has already elected to visit Hong Kong for the remainder of the year. Pick a resort and get back to me. You leave tomorrow night.”

Dick’s salute is as sarcastic as he is bitter.

So. He packs for his upcoming…vacation. And he asks Alfred to pack a bag for John for a week.

And he hopes this won’t be yet another setback for John Doe, who didn’t deserve being subjected to Batman’s whims any more than any of Bruce’s other children.

But he sighs. And Dick packs.

*

Danny’s on a plane and he doesn’t know why.

Damian and Duke and Stephanie are all here, but not Tim, and not Cass? And not Jay? And Dick is…somewhere here? He thinks?

There’s cards. There are even cards in a little pile for Danny, even though he isn’t super sure what they’re playing. He points at one when prompted and tries to zone out for the rest of it.

The urge to have play along and fun is so strong. The world is surging in motion outside of their plane, and they’re cozy inside, with soda cans and cards and chatter and laughter, and…

Danny goes to sit at the back of the plane. There’s nowhere to hide from his longing. There’s nowhere to hide from his misery.

So he just. Hides.

He curls up his legs, puts his head in his knees, and waits for the ride to be over

…That’s enough.

*

Dick gets off the plane first, and helps everyone else get down. Danny’s not really afraid of either heights nor falling, so he doesn’t let Dick touch his arm the way he touches everyone else’s.

Dick’s nice, and that's the entire problem at hand.

Still, the man lets him go—and smiles, and gestures out with a hand. “Alright, everyone; this is nicest spot in the Caribbean, apparently. Welcome to Necker island!”

Damian grumbles, as he’s wont to, although Duke and Steph look suitably impressed by the greenery, and…

…Something in Danny unfolds. Wait. Are they…outside the US?

For one, Danny’s pretty sure that’s illegal. Isn't he a foster?? Holy shit.

On the other hand… Danny takes in more of the scenery, glancing around at lush green foliage and blue waters. He’s…they’ve got their own government, right? They probably wouldn’t have any ties to the Guys in White.

So. So maybe. Maybe Danny’s…safe, here.

(He’s almost too afraid to believe it.)

(Or. Maybe he is too afraid to believe it.)

They meander down the tarmac until they make it to a golf cart; Dick loads up their suitcases and makes chatty conversation with the driver as Duke and Stephanie haul themselves on board.

Damian does his level best to drag a stunned Danny up into the cart and onto a seat. Still. Danny’s a bit too perplexed. Is he safe? Is the Caribbean far enough away from the people hunting him down?

Something gets shoved into his hand. Danny looks down.

…Is that a pineapple?

Anyway. Rich people are whack. Vlad might have Fuck You money, but the Waynes have Fuck You and Your Whole Neighborhood money, since it can apparently let them buy out the whole island and their staff and meals and the beach and everything else for two straight weeks.

Two straight weeks.

And. Somehow. Danny has…a bathing suit…?

He definitely spends like twenty minutes staring at it. It’s no one else’s—no one else wears a Men’s Small, as far as he can tell. Not even Damian. It’s in white and red, like his favorite NASA tee. Just. Who bought this for him? Who knows what size he is??

“Need any help changing?” Duke finally asks, baffled by Danny’s bafflement, and Danny is startled all over again by the pure concept of feeling bafflement.

What a headrush. Fuck; acclimating back to the states is going to be horrible, he can already tell.

So Danny just. Goes into the bathroom. Puts on the bathing shorts.

Stares at himself in the mirror.

…Puts his NASA shirt back on, because looking at the Lichtenburg lines trailing across his chest makes him nauseous.

Danny takes a deep breath in. A deep breath out.

He feels…nervous. Scared. Happy. Excited for vacation. He hasn’t been excited for vacation since he was seven, he thinks. Where had they gone? Chicago? A conference?

Danny pushes himself out the bathroom. He’s scared out of his wits. He’s tired from the flight. He’s nervous to interact with people without his self-imposed emotional barrier.

And he’s so, so relieved, that he doesn’t have to shove it down before he feels it.

Duke and Stephanie are already in their swimsuits at the door, teasing Damian for his full-body suit and swim shoes combo that he insists is ‘tactically sound’.

Dick taps Danny’s arm. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, cheery as ever.

Danny, carefully, nods. It’s the first intentional gesture he’s done for anything non-vital.

Dick beams. 

The giant luxury house locks behind them. Steph hauls the towels, Dick hauls a picnic basket, and Damian insists on both the umbrella and Danny’s hand.

They go down to the beach. It is a brilliant, blue afternoon.

*

Duke collapses on the towel next to Dick, which is. Fair.

“Those two give you the runaround, huh?” Dick asks knowingly. He'd watched Marco Polo slowly turn into a death match just off the island shoreline. The exhaustion is warranted. Damian, who had insisted on the wet uniform he’d worn in the League, and Steph, who would only let a twelve-year-old defeat her if she was dead, make, uh…formidable opponents.

Duke groans into the towel. Fair. More than fair.

Dick lets the air cool him off, perfectly happy in his place under the dying light of the beach sunset, the virgin piña he’d ordered, and some sappy beach romance he’d found on Bruce’s Kindle account. It’s been pretty interesting so far, which means that it was probably one of Selina’s purchases back when they were dating.

Well. Not the first time they were dating. Maybe the. Third? Wait, which time had she moved in again??

“Dick.” Duke mumbles into the towel. “Dick. What the hell. Why am I exhausted.”

“Low stamina,” Dick identifies correctly. He takes another sip of his smoothie, and watches Steph bodily grab Damian in the hopes of chucking him further into the sea. “Get in more cave laps and practice your endurance when we get back."

Duke grooooans, which is the luxury of being young. When you start hitting your thirties, everyone acts like a complaint about your bad shoulder is a sign you ought to think about retiring your uniform.

Dick sits, and listens to the dulcet tones of children fighting and the roar of the ocean. Still, someone has to keep an eye on John, so he resists the urge to take a nap.

John, waist deep in the water, watches the sun slowly hit the horizon.

…It is a peaceful sight, if a kind of unusual way for the kid to behave. The ocean doesn’t allow for a lot of options for elopement, though, so maybe the behavior is an adaptation to his current environment.

“John made an expression in the house before.” Duke’s statement comes apropos of seemingly nothing. Dick looks down from his chair to see Duke watching him watch his foster brother. “He didn’t seem to understand why he had a bathing suit. So. You know. Stuff is firing on at least some cylinders.”

…Huh. Dick sips more overpriced smoothie. It may be the best thing he’s ever tasted. There have been other micro-expressions before from their enigmatic John Doe—brief moments of lucidity in the occasional odd moment—but full on confusion? Really?

“We should break him out of his routine more often, then,” Dick admits. Fine. This time Bruce got lucky, and no one died or wanted to kill each other, and John didn’t immediately shut down upon yet another change in scenery. This is a success. Maybe, next time, he can get Tim and Jason to ditch work and join in.

He’s sure that forcibly dragging Cass to an island for family vacation wouldn’t work per se, but maybe, if Dick gets Tim to bring in Lady Shiva in town for another brief tête-à-tête…

…Man, Dick’s really desperate for family time if he’s thinking about bringing in Lady Shiva into his plans. The second piña he orders should probably have rum in it.

So Dick watches Steph and Damian practice breath-holding exercises (carefully not retraumatizing each other by pinning the other down underwater), content with the new chill in the breeze and the spotty pinks making their debut on the horizon. They’ll have maybe another hour outside before needing to towel off and find an outdoor shower.

Duke rolls over, taking in the last of the sunlight.

—And then the kid bolts upright. “Dick!” Duke hisses, eyes on the shore in front of them. Dick snaps to attention. “Holy shit—look at him!”

Dick quickly scans the scene. Nothing wrong with Steph. Nothing wrong with Damian. John—

—John looks like some marine thing risen above pink-tinged waves, copper-green fire freckles glowing across his cheeks and exposed arms like drops of liquid flames. There’s something in the hot vestiges of sunset that makes his hair look white where the light hits it, and John looks bright—too bright, as if there’s no shadow being cast beside him.

He looks see-through. He looks like frosted sea glass against the surf.

But John looks…happy. Just…happy to see the sunset. Happy to listen to the sea-birds and Steph and Damian’s squabbling and to run his fingers through the waist-high waves, barely buffeted even when the waves break against his chest or pull the water back down to his hips.

“Holy shit,” Duke admires.

Dick can barely breathe. “Holy shit is right.”

“…So now we get to ask why he’s so comfortable here, as opposed to the manor,” Duke rationalizes, and, augh, he’s right. Dick’s not looking forward to that. Still, they have two weeks to try and untangle the knot of mysteries around their John Doe, and more than enough resources to do it with.

Dick slurps the last of his smoothie down and sets it aside. “Text the staff line and tell them that we’re upgrading to a completely hands-off experience, please. No staff are to be around except for scheduled cleanings and laundry service, and the occasional meal and restaurant visit.”

Duke holds his hand out for Dick’s phone, which, fair. Dick supervises the text, and his foster brother shoots it off into the atmosphere when prompted. And Duke gets up, brushes the sand off his shorts, and darts back off to the shoreline—already glowing faintly in the fading light.

Dick snorts with a smile.

John, at least, takes to Duke’s suddenly-brightly-lit appearance with little more than clear surprise. Duke hops under the water, his light giving away a clear location—and swims around John once or twice before John carefully lowers himself in after him.

There is, thankfully, no need to play lifeguard for his siblings. Dick watches them anyway. John takes to the water with a sort of placid playfulness, and Duke follows his lead; as soon as Damian notices that John is actually paying Duke real attention, swimming becomes a real free-for-all.

The sun tucks itself away until the sky is red and weeping. Dick will call them all into dinner for a minute. For now, though, he watches his sibling get along, and he wishes it could be this easy for them forever.

It won't be. But for now, Dick can appreciate his vacation.

[britcision]

If I may, there’s a hole we need to spackle up:

Why the hell would Danny allow them to take him back to the US? If he actually is safe when he’s out and away, he’d be literally fighting for his life to stay

And all he’d have to do is tell them the States are dangerous for him

So clearly it’s angst time 😈

**

Danny felt the pit falling out of his stomach, a dread he still habitually almost squashed. Maybe he should squash this one.

Two weeks hadn’t been enough to fully break through the walls he’d built up, to get him used to feeling anything at all again, but he’d almost been feeling human. Almost been feeling like a person.

And then, just to be sure (because obviously he was working up to how to explain to his new foster “family” that he just. Couldn’t go back to America with them. He’d even dared hope that since they cared so much… they’d let him without question)… he’d looked up extradition treaties.

Of course the US had an extradition treaty with Bermuda, Antigua, every bloody island government he could have been hiding out with. Of course the GIW could still get him.

All he could do was hope that the sheer distance, the unlikeliness of them having global scans out just for him rather than focusing on the States, had meant they hadn’t triangulated him yet. That he hadn’t accidentally outed himself by just daring to feel, for once.

The disappointment on his siblings’ faces when he came down for dinner his blank and emotionless self would have hurt, if he let himself feel anything.

He’d dared to smile at them these last few days, dared to offer more than just a few words to conversation. Dared to greet them with a nod or a wave.

No more of that now.

Although… it was the Waynes. There was, just maybe, the smallest possible chance that they’d let him choose the next vacation. And they were still far enough from the mainland US.

Dick could be, well, a dick when he wanted to, but he was the oldest. Indisputably in charge of this excursion and the responsible one even if it was largely against his will.

So once the concerned flapping and attempts to coax him to do more than blink had finally subsided in the rush to pack the car, Danny stole off to one side and took Dick with him, by dint of a simple brush on the back of his wrist.

(Ancients, they were so kind. So considerate, so caring… why did he only have this when he couldn’t let any of it matter?)

He didn’t even want to risk the words, to risk how his voice would break and heart would ache to speak it. So he typed out the words, turned them towards Dick, watched his eyes widen and hope relight his face as he read.

‘Can I pick the next vacation spot’

Of course, Dick immediately began assuring Danny a hundred ways that they could totally stay on the island longer, they’d buy it out for the rest of the month, the year if he didn’t want to return to Gotham that badly, but that wouldn’t work.

Danny knew about the extradition treaty now. The island, which had seemed like a paradise… wasn’t.

But Dick had already been so enthusiastic.

So he chanced a shake of his head, raised the phone again, even pointed to “next”. And Dick fell over himself promising to take Danny wherever the hell he wanted to, on Earth or off it.

(and. That. That nearly broke him. He knew the Waynes were richer than any six gods you cared to name, but Dick offering to fly him to space? How could that be a real offer?

But Dick looked so completely certain. So sincere.)

Clamping down firmly on the nugget of hope, Danny left as quickly as possible so Dick couldn’t wear him down. The guy had already begun to suspect Danny actually did like his puns, and since the very first time he’d let his lips twitch in a smile…

He thought Dick made a lot of puns before, but if Damian was to be believed there’d been a defined exponential growth in the number he’d been making every day since.

Danny couldn’t risk enjoying himself. He had a lot of research to do on extradition treaties with the US.

[ailithnight]

Ooh! Fascinating!

I would like to point out, there's no way the Bats aren't hyper-vigilantly monitoring Danny. For even the tiniest clues of what he might want or need or like. So there's no way they don't notice the research Danny is suddenly doing. And it's probably not enough to actually answer even one of their questions about John Doe. But it's a lead. Their first genuine lead.

Of course, now they have to wonder; what did John do (or think he did) that he needs (or think he needs) to flee the States?

[megasweetbones]

Dick, Duke, Damian, and Stephanie are going to debrief everyone on what happened on the island.

But, before that, everyone who wasn't on the island is going to panic, when they come back and it seems Danny regressed. Especially Bruce. He's kicking himself that his new kid, 'John', is no longer even doing micro expressions!

When they do do the debrief, they get questioned why they didn't just text anyone and stay longer? The four deadpan at the others, then say it's because they knew the others would come to the island and overwhelm the boy when he was just getting out of his shell.

Duke brings up that when John showed emotions his powers reacted. John wasn't afraid of his own powers, nor was he afraid to use them around the Wayne's. But he was afraid to use them in Gotham.

Dick brings up Danny's research of the US territories. When he found out the island was a territory, he stopped showing as much emotion. So maybe he's afraid to use his powers in the US in general?

Tim blurts out that maybe John's powers are traceable and that's why he hides his emotions. If he is a trafficking victim, knows that he's still being hunted after escaping, then maybe John is more afraid of these traffickers than he feels safe in the Manor? He doesn't trust that the Wayne's are able to protect him.

Damian brings up that John's powers being activated felt like the Lazarus Pits. Everyone goes stock still.

Duke brings up that John's eyes has glowed green when he was showing emotions. So Damian continues on that line of thinking. John has scars all over his torso that looks like Lichtenburg scars. Which wouldn't make sense cause those are supposed to fade away after a while.

If you survive.

Which brings up that he must have been thrown into a Pit or was given the water. Ra's wouldn't have done this, unless John had been an amazing assassin or something. So, they either have an enemy in their home, or someone else found a Pit and used John as an experiment. 🧪

[magical-awesome-kid]

I did, like, five minutes of research into this, but lets GO!

---

Danny was on a plane. Another plane. This time to a country he got to pick.

Kind of.

Most of the countries with non-extradition treaties to the US had their own issues. Countries like North Korea were an absolute no. Jason had looked horrified at the mention of Ethiopia, so Danny tossed out most of Africa just to be safe. The Middle East also seemed to have everyone worried, even as Damian was from there?

If Danny could emote, he'd have sighed in relief when Cass had mentioned Hong Kong. The family had a rather large penthouse there, as it was one of the major hubs for the various Wayne Enterprise and subsidiaries. Tim and Bruce agreed that an in-person walkthrough would probably be well overdo.

There was then some sort of side organization going on as the rest of the extended family seemed to decide who was going, though Danny hadn't even had to ask. Alfred was already helping prepare Danny's suitcase.

Danny also asked about his passport. He somehow had one with the John Doe name, which, huh. The Waynes must have pulled some strings being Richer than Six Gods.

Anyway, Danny was in the air on the Wayne Enterprise jet towards the back once more. The ride was long - nearly sixteen hours in the air, direct - so everyone was in various states of activity as they reached the mid-way point.

Cass, obviously, with the most knowledge of Hong Kong was along for the ride. She was in the front of the craft with Jason and Dick, who were all huddled around a table - because this jet was so big and spacious that it had tables, benches, and full lay down beds for the occupants - and were seemingly playing Poker.

Tim was a little farther back and in his own table section, typing away at his computer like a mad man. He'd seemingly clonked out for all of twenty minutes about an hour prior before shooting up, looking like he'd suddenly cracked a major code, and now was on his computer chatting with Barbara over something Danny couldn't quite make out unless he wanted to use some of his ghost powers or move closer, neither which felt right.

Damian and Duke had claimed two of the laydown chairs after playing some racing game on Duke's Switch, and both seemed to be passed out. Bruce was the closest to Danny in one of the more normal seats that could be converted to a bed across the aisle from the teen, the reading light above him on as he wore a pair of spectacles, seemingly perusing something on the tablet he held.

Danny had been mostly staring out the window the whole flight, bouncing back and forth between observation, listening to whoever tried to engage him (he'd been pulled up to the table to eat and play Uno at some point, though he'd only eaten the food and watched, and Duke had sat next to him for a good portion of the early flight so they would watch a movie - the movie was atrocious in that way a bad movie could swing around to being hilarious, but Danny had held in his laughter even as Duke was snorting and pointing out all the plot holes), or looking down at the tablet he'd brought with him.

He'd been looking again and again at the US extradition laws and Hong Kong's stance on various entities.

China wasn't the paragon of human rights, but, after a debacle between the Chinese Ministry of Self-Reliance trying to form a "Justice League of China," that League clashing with the actual Justice League, and the eventual absorption of some of the members into the League, China had been forced to adopt some of the League Doctrine in relation to metahuman and non-human beings.

And, for some reason, they had specified in their examples of acceptable entities including ghosts, amongst other beings like demonic and deity, as those that fell under the acts.

In accordance with Chinese Law, a ghost on their soil, so long as it abided by the other laws placed by the government, would be treated like any other human under the same circumstance.

Granted, there was still some hinky stuff kept under wraps, with the media control and how some speculated that the Ministry of Self-Reliance had just gone underground, but, well, that was a different story. Hong Kong, while part of China, was also constantly fighting with its oversight, seeking more freedom and, in fact, had further local rulings that would protect those seeking asylum.

The GIW, his parents, the US government... none of them could touch him there.

Danny realized that someone was approaching him. He flicked his tablet to the home screen as Bruce approached, having gotten out of his seat to go talk to the elder Wayne Children at the front. He had a blanket and pillows in hand.

"You should probably get some sleep, too, before we land." He pointed out. Danny glanced forward, seeing Dick having disappeared into the bathroom while Cass was having what looked like a staring contest with Tim. Jason simply flopped down on one of the sofas while kicking off his boots, getting comfortable for some sleep. "Do you need help with the chair? They're a bit older style, so some of the controls can be a mess." Bruce expressed sincerely, his voice soft.

Danny shrugged and stood, opening his arms to accept the items Bruce had brought over. Bruce smiled as Danny held his own things - Danny may not know how these stupid chairs worked, but he wasn't going to not help - as Bruce got the chair to lie flat. Danny was able to take the rest from there, shaking his head when Bruce offered further.

Danny huddled himself into the corner of the chair, back to the window so that he could keep eyes on the other occupants. He checked his tablet's app that kept track of their flight.

Estimated time of arrival: 7 hours and 23 minutes.

Danny felt his emotions simmer under the icy glass walls he'd placed around his heart, his mind, his core.

He dozed off, praying that the Fenton Luck wouldn't rear its ugly head.

---

It wasn't all fun and games as the Wayne Family packed up for Hong Kong. Tim and Bruce did have to actually attend to Wayne Enterprise while there, and Cass was enlisting Damian to help with a smuggling operation - it would be impossible to take them down and out in the Chinese ports, but the two were planning on doing a lot of intel, planting trackers, and freeing any endangered species should need call.

Jason had largely come with as he'd missed out on John's opening up on the last trip, and, well, once he'd pointed out how John might have had his own dip into a Lazarus Pit, he'd been insistent on coming, claiming something along the lines of "us undead guys gotta stick together."

Dick, having been the one to organize this, had also been a no-brainer.

And Duke? Well, Duke had pointed out that, as the only (known) meta in the family, he also had some unique insight into what that meant and how that could weigh on a person.

Steph had complained about not coming, but she was also swamped in cases. Barbara was had been offered an invite, but she, too, had too much on her plate to come along.

Bruce had been hesitant to leave Gotham, as he always was, but, really, if he needed to be back, the Zeta in Hong Kong could have them back across the world in minutes, not the hours it took for them to fly traditionally.

The plane had a variety of sitting areas, some with tables or chairs facing one another, two sections with couches, and a set of seats near the rear that wouldn't be uncommon on a first-class commercial flight, with one large seat to one side of the row and two on the other. There were nine chairs in this back section with plenty of walking space so that, even if all beds were laid flat, no one would be walking over another.

John had claimed the single in the furthest back row, so Bruce had settled in opposite, hoping to keep an eye on the whole lot from there while also not intruding on the foster's space.

Bruce had made sure to sleep some at the beginning of the flight, not wanting all of them to be out at the same time. While he had staff onboard and trusted his pilots, it was always good to have Bat eyes and ears in case of emergency. With everyone settling down for the last part of the flight to alleviate jet lag, he made sure to stay sentinel.

A body dropped into the seat next to him. Bruce, ever aware, was glancing over as Dick popped his head onto Bruce's shoulder. Bruce had once been a person who had shied away from touch when given the choice, having few who he felt comfortable having in his personal space bubble (though he faked otherwise well), but, well, Dick had always shown a lot of love through physical affection. The young man whom had swung from his antique chandeliers (and still, sometimes, to this day - there was a reason he'd either replaced or reinforced them all to hold human weight) and tried to run around Gotham in a aerialist's unitard (Bruce thanked whoever blessed him with Alfred, because Bruce certainly had trouble convincing his young ward that pants with Kevlar or some other light-weight armor was a requirement to be in the field) was always welcome in Bruce's bubble, as were his other kids.

"You should get some rest, chum." Bruce said, looking back at the tablet in his hands. He was reading over the Budget Report for the Watchtower, something that would be both shocking (the amount of money spent on rare herbs and volcanic ash, while not exorbitant compared to some of the other costs, would certainly cause questions if it wasn't for the fact that they had magic users and, therefore, needed magical defenses) and mundane (three new Speedsters had fallen out of the multiverse/timeline/whatever in the past year, and the food budget was in need of adjustment as they were brought on to various teams).

"Hm." Dick hummed. He was an adult now, well on his way to thirty, but there was something about setting his head on Bruce's shoulder that still made him relax just a bit. He could be fiercely independent, but he also had moments where he would just regress back to being nine, and Bruce's larger than life persona would shield him from the worst of the world for a little bit. "You think this is going to work?"

"I hope so." Bruce returned. "Any luck on finding out more details about John?" Bruce added, but he shifted to Romani so that, even if John woke and somehow overheard their conversation, he'd have, hopefully, no clue on what they were saying.

"He's a ghost." Dick returned in his first tongue, so much smoother than Bruce's accent. "Oracle found some traces of his path to Gotham, but his tracking was all over the place. We've tried using face ID, but we haven't found a match yet."

Bruce sighed through his nose. "I'll keep an ear out for updates from Oracle, then. We will also need to keep an eye on him to make sure that he doesn't bolt when we land."

Dick nodded before pulling out his phone. He switched back to English. "Want to video call Haly and Alfred with me?"

Bruce couldn't help but smile. "You call your kiddo, chum."

"She's the cutest little baby, and you can't convince me otherwise."

"Wasn't going to, Chum."

---

Danny's passing through customs was a bit of a blur. They'd landed at a private landing strip before being whisked away by a half a dozen local passport control agents. Danny kept close to the Waynes, still, because, well, he still felt like he couldn't break.

But the longer he was there, he could feel it.

The ice melting.

Cass had taken the lead once they'd settled in, showing them around her favorite haunts of the city and having Danny try much of the local food. Before the Waynes, he'd never been able to really travel and just be a tourist. Sure, there was one memory of him and Jazz in Toronto when they were very little, and he'd gone to freaking space to stop Technus, but he'd always been too young or in Hero Mode otherwise.

Bruce and Tim had taken him around Wayne Enterprise's main headquarters there the following day, though Jason and Duke had later "broken him out" to go to a local market and laugh at all the poorly worded shirts with bogus English on them.

Danny had cracked a snort when he saw a particularly bad shirt. He still didn't want to allow too much to spill, what with so many people around, but, well, the ASSA shirt with a poor man's Nasa logo had nearly broken him.

He wasn't really allowed to be alone outside of the Wayne Penthouse, where everyone got their own rooms for the trip, but Danny didn't mind. Everyone seemed to have a much better understanding of Cantonese compared to him (which was pretty much anything as Danny spoke none of the language, not that he felt secure enough to speak much anyway), so having everyone else translate was a blessing.

But then, about two weeks in, Danny finally felt the last of his ice break away.

Because Duke had asked him if he wanted to climb out to the rooftop deck, a telescope in hand, and try to find stars through the Hong Kong light polution.

"I think that's Sirius? The dog star?" Duke said as he pointed to a spot in the sky. Only the brightest stars could pierce the night shadow, much like with Gotham on its rare cloudless nights.

"You're pointed at Vega."

Danny was almost shocked as his own voice seemed to claw its way out of his throat.

Duke jumped, swirling back on the younger teen, before seemingly pulling himself together. He looked back at the night sky. Playing calm, Duke added, "Huh. You know your stars?"

"It's the brightest star..." Danny trailed off. He tried to keep his small joy down, his face contorting, but... he was so tired of keeping even his littlest delights down. Of keeping his interests at bay. Of crushing Danny. "...in the constellation Lyra."

"You want to take the bad boy for a spin?" Duke gestured to the telescope.

Hesitantly, Danny approached. He looked into the telescope, adjusting his knowledge based on where they were in the world.

Danny felt himself just... lighten. He could feel his ecto energy rise from his Core for the first time in so long, and he didn't have as much fear. Even if he somehow spiked Ecto now, he was an ocean and continent away from the people looking for him. He was somewhere that would treat him like any other tourist.

He could just... be.

Danny had gotten so caught up in the moment turning to minutes, dropping stifled facts about the stars that he'd always loved, that he forgot about his situation as he looked back, staring at the sky without the telescope.

The ecto flooded his eyes, and the darkness dispersed, revealing the cosmos overhead.

And, then, he noticed the white, floating hair in his perifery.

Danny grasped the hair, and he felt the tug on his head.

And he crashed back into himself.

He'd been glowing. His hair had turned white.

Duke was right there.

Danny tried to clamp down on his emotions, try to think, but the panic rose, his eyes no doubt flashing green, as he turned back to the teenager who was staring right at him.

---

Duke had played calm when John had spoken, desperately hoping not to scare the boy off.

And Duke had somehow hit the jackpot, it seemed, because the boy began to, hesitantly, speak facts about the stars as they looked into the night sky.

If Duke was honest, he didn't need the telescope to see past the darkened sky. His powers allowed him to manipulate the light and shadows around him, and it took barely anything to swipe away the darkness in his own vision to bring the stunning galaxies into focus. He could do the same for others, but, well, he didn't know how John would react if he had done so.

Still, as John took on that eerie glow again, that lightness in his body that seemed to give him a sense of antigravity, his hair turning almost celestial as white dots glowed into white bands, Duke tried not to stare.

But, this time, it seemed that John had become aware of what was happening.

It happened in a blink. One second, John was looking into the night sky, readying the telescope to show Duke another cluster of some kind, but then he stopped. He tugged his own hair, realizing the color shift, and spun on Duke.

Duke had half expected John to shut down, but, this time, it seemed that the walls had fallen away, because John was going into a full-blown panic attack.

John's eyes were the same eerie green, his clothes and hair floating with that unearthly glow and his eyes flickering - sky blue, toxic green, icy blue, and back - and, worse, the ground around John's feet was turning to ice.

"Oh shit." Duke threw, throwing up his hands. "John! John, it's ok. It's fine. I get it."

John looked down, up, down, a hand going to his chest like he was having a heart attack. The air around him seemed to spark and simmer with some kind of energy.

"Look, it's going to be ok. You're not alone."

Duke had lead the We Are Robins movement back in the day, and he had his fair share of helping kids through panic attacks now and through today. He'd learned a lot with Bruce, but patience was one of them.

"No one here is going to hurt you." Duke tried to assure, but the young man before him kept panicking. "Just..." Duke got an idea.

He pulled his powers, using broad body strokes. He didn't need to, but the act both helped him focus on what he was doing and project his movements for John to see.

John looked up as Duke wiped the darkness away from the sky, the galaxies now appearing to them like it did in the areas of the world where light pollution was a distant nightmare.

"I have powers, too. The family knows, and they have helped me through a lot of stuff." Duke reassured. Duke kept an eye on the ice that had been forming at John's feet. It had been seemingly climbing up his legs, across the rooftop (thank goodness that they had glass protectors around with the tall protective bars - they both acted to prevent people from scaling up there - ha, really, because all the kids could jump them - and create barriers that stopped anyone staring at the roof from seeing anything clearly; to an observer with a telescope, they would just see random lights on a penthouse rooftop). "You're safe here."

---

Danny felt his heart stop. Full stop. In his ghost form, he still had one, but it was sluggish and, of course, inhumanly slow. He could stop it like holding one's breathe, but that had never happened in his human form before.

But the shock must have done him in.

Because the sky was so beautiful, and Danny didn't have to fight anything to see it.

Duke was doing it.

Duke was a meta.

Did... did that mean the Waynes would help him? He'd been thinking about how and what he'd do when they planned to load up back to Gotham. They had only planned to be there for three weeks, though Tim had been talking about staying longer and inviting the others to do so if they had the time.

Could they just... help him stay? Cass had her own apartment in the city. She lived here. Could he stay with her?

Wasn't that aiding and abetting? Wouldn't they get in trouble?

Then again, Richer than Six Gods Combined.

Danny felt his heart clench, beating once more.

"I'm going to approach you, ok?"

Danny looked down at the ice then back at Duke.

He didn't want the other teen hurt.

Duke took a step forward and, looking at the ice and Danny's worry, he used wide strokes, once more, as his shadow reached out over the ice.

Danny watched as Duke stepped over the ice, like he was creating his own little Shadow Bridge.

He was like Johnny, in a way.

Heh, and they thought I was the John here. Danny thought vaguely.

Duke made it to Danny without touching the ice. "Can you breathe with me, dude?"

Danny did. He forced his breathing to match Duke's, watching as the other teen breathed in, held, and breathed out.

Danny felt his powers, trapped in a cage of his own making, slowly come back under his control, though bits stayed at the surface with his emotions. He wasn't sure how he'd fix that, but at least he wasn't freezing the floor anymore and managed to dismiss the ice he'd been forming. His glow settled some, and his hair had white mixed in with his black. While Danny couldn't see it, one eye was green while the other was his human blue.

"You feeling more grounded?" Duke questioned.

Danny, feeling like he just flew from Wisconsin to Amity and back, nodded, but he felt wiped.

"Can I take your hand? You look unsteady."

Danny hesitated, looking Duke up and down.

Danny wasn't like Duke. He wasn't sure what Duke was, but Ghosts were not part of the Metahuman protections. He'd looked, and the laws hadn't allowed it. It was the small loophole that the GIW and his parents worked through.

But, as he looked at the other teen, and with what he'd learned about the Waynes, he hardly thought any of them would truly distinguish it.

Danny took the hand offered to him.

And then he stumbled.

"Woah!" Duke rushed forward, grabbing Danny before he could hit the ground. "I think you should lay down. You're freezing, man."

"That's... normal... ish." Danny mumbled. Then, because he hadn't in oh, so long, he added, "I'm... a pretty... chill... guy..."

Duke stopped, startled, before staring at Danny for too long.

Danny thought he'd made the wrong move.

Then, Duke spoke, "Oh my gods, we have another Dick."

Danny couldn't help it. A small, wheezing laugh shook loose of his lungs.

Duke slung the offered arm over his shoulder, hefting most of Danny's weight onto him. "You need to eat more, dude. You're light AF."

Danny shrugged as best he could, feeling his exhaustion stomp down on what emotions he had allowed out. He felt his glow waver.

"Hey, I know you're tired, and, like, panic attacks suck, but, also, glowing? Seriously, are you gonna be ok? Do you need a doctor?" Duke questioned.

"Mm... fine..." Danny ground out. "Sleep."

Danny was out like a light before they got off the roof.

[livelovelizz]

you make you so easy

dick grayson x reader / fluff

“Stop following me.”

“Oh, did you want me to walk beside you? Hold your hand?”

You abruptly stop walking and shoot a glare up into the shadows of the nearby alley. You currently can’t see him, but you know he’s in there somewhere.

“I am trying to go home. After a long day,” you reply, “Alone.”

Nightwing melts out of the shadows, lips in a pout. “Come on, babe,” he whines, “I said sorry!”

You just shake your head and continue walking. “Stop following me, Nightwing. I wonder what the media would think, a vigilante stalking an innocent civilian and not leaving them alone?”

Some clicking and a whoosh of the air lets you  know he’s on the chase again. Gotham has never been a particularly safe place to walk alone after dark, even after the Bats rose to the occasion. The goons and villains made it hard, for sure, but the crumbling infrastructure of the city was just the icing on the cake. Buses and the train don’t run late, leaving a long walk in uncomfortable shoes after being stood up on a date.

“The media,” comes the reply, voice dripping with pride, “would simply see one of their beloved vigilantes doing their job! Nothing wrong with that.”

God, you hate he isn’t even out of breath keeping up with you. Not like you’re walking that fast, but still. You hope he trips.

“Maybe if the media knew what a dick you are, one that stands up their partner on a date they’ve been planning for months, specifically to not be interrupted!” You snap, unable to keep the simmering anger down. Fuck, if you weren’t angry about it, you’d cry. Inhaling slowly, you curl your hands into fists with determination to not make a scene. You stomp on.

It’s silent for a moment. For two. You would have thought he left if you didn’t know any better.

When Nightwing speaks, his voice is heavy. “Look, I know. I was looking forward to tonight too, but—”

You shake your head. When you breathe out, all the fight you had left. “I get it. I do. I just— let me be upset about it. Okay?”

You don’t get a reply or hear anything, but you know he’s still keeping pace. It’s nothing he can refute anyways. The both of you kept this day clear for months. It’s not often your dates can be more than a relaxed one at home, or spur of the moment. Not that you didn’t love those kinds of dates, of course you did, but it’s nice to dress up and show up for each other. You continue on your path on the crumbling side walk, only thinking about how nice it’ll be to be out of these shoes and in comfortable pajamas, maybe drink a glass of wine or two while ignoring your idiot of a partner.

As you pass through a darker portion of the street, a figure flips down in front of you. You stop abruptly lest you crash into them, but it doesn’t matter when you trip on a stray pebble and tumble right into waiting arms.

The arms curl around you tighter, rather than letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Dick murmurs into your ear. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to call me in but, fuck…”

You stand still as he digs his face into neck. A small crackle distracts you, talking too muffled for you to make anything out, though you know what this means. A hefty sigh runs through your body and you lean your head onto Dick’s shoulder briefly before prying him off.

“Duty calls,” you say softly, staring into lifeless white lenses. You look over him. He’s tense, body standing firmly on his feet in a way you know means he’s going to be stubborn. Suddenly, he clenches his jaw and looks away from you, yet he still doesn’t leave.

Lifting a hand, you softly trace his jaw up to his mask. With a small smile, you whisper “Go.”

“I’ll be as home as soon as I can,” Dick kisses the palm of your hand, and then like a tornado, flips away in a flurry off to whatever disaster is wrecking Gotham this time. You shake your head softly and start moving again.

Before you know it, you’re in bed, eyes blinking blearily as you turn on your phone. 4:43. Why’re you—?

“Did I wake you?”

Hands crawl over your waist, gently tugging you back into a chest. You can barely register the kisses on your neck before turning around to face Dick to croak out “D’ya j’s git h’me?”

You aren’t even sure your eyes are open, but you can still see Dick Grayson through the low lighting. Even while exhausted, he radiates light. He stares at you, hand brushing hair out of your eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Hm.” is all you can manage before darkness takes over you.

The next time you wake up, a dim light shines through the blinds and you feel significantly more awake. You yawn and stretch out your body. Sitting up, something catches the edge of your eye. You look over and jump. Leaning against the doorway with coffee in hand, stands Dick Grayson. Oversized shirt, sweatpants, barefoot with eyes still half-closed, he looks beautiful.

You narrow your eyes and look to his side of the bed. Empty. You look over at the doorway. Dick. Bed. Doorway. No Dick. Dick. “You,” croaking, you point to the figure, “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Dick only raises and eyebrow and walks over, hand brushing messy hair of of your eyes. “Am I not allowed to get up early?”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You’re supposed to still be in bed until noon,”

“Well,” he smiles before pushing a thumb on your forehead, tilting your head backwards. You straighten up and give him a look. “Get up. We have somewhere to be,”

Standing up, you reach your hands above your head and stretch. “Is it important?”

You wander to the bathroom, flipping the lights on and yawning. Dick drifts over and watches you brush your teeth from the doorway as he takes another sip. “Super important. I have a full day of making up to do with my very angry partner.”

The statement makes a wave of butterflies go through you. Washing your mouth out, you look at his reflection in the mirror. “Are you being serious?”

Dick’s reflection nods. “Very serious,” he replies, bright grin overtaking his features, “Funded by Bruce, too. As an apology.”

Now that statement makes you smile. You quickly turn around, affection bubbling within you and threatening to spill over. Stepping towards Dick, you gently push the coffee out of the way and capture his lips in a long kiss. Just as it starts to get serious– invoking a different kind of butterflies– you pull away.

Dick stares at you with a dazed expression.  “I’ll be quick,” you promise.

“I mean,” he mumbles, leaning towards you presumably to finish what you started, “We don’t have to leave right away… We could take a minute—”

A peck cuts him off. Dick immediately tries to deepen the kiss, but you just pull away and push him out of the doorway so you can close the bathroom door.

“Save that for later, Grayson,” you smirk. Just before the door shuts, you lift on eyebrow. “By the time I’m out of this bathroom, you better be ready to go. I’m not wasting a single minute today.”

The door clicks shut. You hear him chuckle and call out an affirmation. Turning back to the mirror so you can finish your morning routine, you look at yourself. Bright eyes, blushed cheeks, wide grin. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t going to waste a single minute today. That included after you get home from your outing together. Dick definitely needed a punishment after yesterday, and you intend to make him learn his lesson all night long.

Well. You better get ready.

fin.

[livelovelizz]

you make you so easy

dick grayson x reader / fluff

“Stop following me.”

“Oh, did you want me to walk beside you? Hold your hand?”

You abruptly stop walking and shoot a glare up into the shadows of the nearby alley. You currently can’t see him, but you know he’s in there somewhere.

“I am trying to go home. After a long day,” you reply, “Alone.”

Nightwing melts out of the shadows, lips in a pout. “Come on, babe,” he whines, “I said sorry!”

You just shake your head and continue walking. “Stop following me, Nightwing. I wonder what the media would think, a vigilante stalking an innocent civilian and not leaving them alone?”

Some clicking and a whoosh of the air lets you  know he’s on the chase again. Gotham has never been a particularly safe place to walk alone after dark, even after the Bats rose to the occasion. The goons and villains made it hard, for sure, but the crumbling infrastructure of the city was just the icing on the cake. Buses and the train don’t run late, leaving a long walk in uncomfortable shoes after being stood up on a date.

“The media,” comes the reply, voice dripping with pride, “would simply see one of their beloved vigilantes doing their job! Nothing wrong with that.”

God, you hate he isn’t even out of breath keeping up with you. Not like you’re walking that fast, but still. You hope he trips.

“Maybe if the media knew what a dick you are, one that stands up their partner on a date they’ve been planning for months, specifically to not be interrupted!” You snap, unable to keep the simmering anger down. Fuck, if you weren’t angry about it, you’d cry. Inhaling slowly, you curl your hands into fists with determination to not make a scene. You stomp on.

It’s silent for a moment. For two. You would have thought he left if you didn’t know any better.

When Nightwing speaks, his voice is heavy. “Look, I know. I was looking forward to tonight too, but—”

You shake your head. When you breathe out, all the fight you had left. “I get it. I do. I just— let me be upset about it. Okay?”

You don’t get a reply or hear anything, but you know he’s still keeping pace. It’s nothing he can refute anyways. The both of you kept this day clear for months. It’s not often your dates can be more than a relaxed one at home, or spur of the moment. Not that you didn’t love those kinds of dates, of course you did, but it’s nice to dress up and show up for each other. You continue on your path on the crumbling side walk, only thinking about how nice it’ll be to be out of these shoes and in comfortable pajamas, maybe drink a glass of wine or two while ignoring your idiot of a partner.

As you pass through a darker portion of the street, a figure flips down in front of you. You stop abruptly lest you crash into them, but it doesn’t matter when you trip on a stray pebble and tumble right into waiting arms.

The arms curl around you tighter, rather than letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Dick murmurs into your ear. “I’m really sorry. I told them not to call me in but, fuck…”

You stand still as he digs his face into neck. A small crackle distracts you, talking too muffled for you to make anything out, though you know what this means. A hefty sigh runs through your body and you lean your head onto Dick’s shoulder briefly before prying him off.

“Duty calls,” you say softly, staring into lifeless white lenses. You look over him. He’s tense, body standing firmly on his feet in a way you know means he’s going to be stubborn. Suddenly, he clenches his jaw and looks away from you, yet he still doesn’t leave.

Lifting a hand, you softly trace his jaw up to his mask. With a small smile, you whisper “Go.”

“I’ll be as home as soon as I can,” Dick kisses the palm of your hand, and then like a tornado, flips away in a flurry off to whatever disaster is wrecking Gotham this time. You shake your head softly and start moving again.

Before you know it, you’re in bed, eyes blinking blearily as you turn on your phone. 4:43. Why’re you—?

“Did I wake you?”

Hands crawl over your waist, gently tugging you back into a chest. You can barely register the kisses on your neck before turning around to face Dick to croak out “D’ya j’s git h’me?”

You aren’t even sure your eyes are open, but you can still see Dick Grayson through the low lighting. Even while exhausted, he radiates light. He stares at you, hand brushing hair out of your eyes. “Go back to bed.”

“Hm.” is all you can manage before darkness takes over you.

The next time you wake up, a dim light shines through the blinds and you feel significantly more awake. You yawn and stretch out your body. Sitting up, something catches the edge of your eye. You look over and jump. Leaning against the doorway with coffee in hand, stands Dick Grayson. Oversized shirt, sweatpants, barefoot with eyes still half-closed, he looks beautiful.

You narrow your eyes and look to his side of the bed. Empty. You look over at the doorway. Dick. Bed. Doorway. No Dick. Dick. “You,” croaking, you point to the figure, “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Dick only raises and eyebrow and walks over, hand brushing messy hair of of your eyes. “Am I not allowed to get up early?”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You’re supposed to still be in bed until noon,”

“Well,” he smiles before pushing a thumb on your forehead, tilting your head backwards. You straighten up and give him a look. “Get up. We have somewhere to be,”

Standing up, you reach your hands above your head and stretch. “Is it important?”

You wander to the bathroom, flipping the lights on and yawning. Dick drifts over and watches you brush your teeth from the doorway as he takes another sip. “Super important. I have a full day of making up to do with my very angry partner.”

The statement makes a wave of butterflies go through you. Washing your mouth out, you look at his reflection in the mirror. “Are you being serious?”

Dick’s reflection nods. “Very serious,” he replies, bright grin overtaking his features, “Funded by Bruce, too. As an apology.”

Now that statement makes you smile. You quickly turn around, affection bubbling within you and threatening to spill over. Stepping towards Dick, you gently push the coffee out of the way and capture his lips in a long kiss. Just as it starts to get serious– invoking a different kind of butterflies– you pull away.

Dick stares at you with a dazed expression.  “I’ll be quick,” you promise.

“I mean,” he mumbles, leaning towards you presumably to finish what you started, “We don’t have to leave right away… We could take a minute—”

A peck cuts him off. Dick immediately tries to deepen the kiss, but you just pull away and push him out of the doorway so you can close the bathroom door.

“Save that for later, Grayson,” you smirk. Just before the door shuts, you lift on eyebrow. “By the time I’m out of this bathroom, you better be ready to go. I’m not wasting a single minute today.”

The door clicks shut. You hear him chuckle and call out an affirmation. Turning back to the mirror so you can finish your morning routine, you look at yourself. Bright eyes, blushed cheeks, wide grin. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t going to waste a single minute today. That included after you get home from your outing together. Dick definitely needed a punishment after yesterday, and you intend to make him learn his lesson all night long.

Well. You better get ready.

fin.

[livelovelizz]

now i'm no longer alone

jason todd x reader / fluff

tw: mentions of blood and a knife

“What the fuck.”

You try to swallow the lump that’s appeared in your throat. You know you must look stupid with your open-mouth stare, but you couldn’t help it. Really…

“What the fuck,” you repeat, scanning the figure in front of you. In the dingy hallway of your apartment complex, stands an out of place person. Red helmet scratched up, black tactical suit torn, and the most startling of all, the amount of blood pouring out from behind a hand.

“Hey, I don’t mean to rush this… but do you mind like—” the figure jerks his head and all you can do float aside to allow him to hobble through. You bite your lip and peek into the hallway. All that stares back at you is flickering LED lights and dingy wallpaper.

Letting out a shaky breath, you stare at the blood spots left on the floor as the door closes, latching it as quietly as possible. You turn the lock.

The injured vigilante you let in has made their way to your couch, draping themselves across it with legs falling off the sides. It’s silent, air tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You open your mouth, ready to start complaining when glistening liquid catches you eye. Clicking your tongue, you go to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Flipping on the switch, you squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Mussed up hair from sleep, wrinkled pajamas, and a deep frown. You take in a deep breath to collect yourself. Right. Now’s not the time to be distracted by anything other than the problem bleeding out on your couch.

You rummage in the cabinet underneath the sink for a couple minutes, noises too loud for whatever fucking time it is. Behind a stack of toilet paper is where the med-kit is hiding, so it's quickly snatched up and you hurry back to the living room. The idiot is still in the same position, sans the red helmet, which has been tossed aside on the floor.

You shake your head and sigh. “You actually have to take off your suit for me to do anything.”

Blue-greenish eyes swipe to look over at you. They look distinctly glassy and out of focus. Concussion?

“You tryin’ to get me in bed already? At least take me to dinner first,” the mighty Red Hood responds, trying to smile but winces and carefully remains still. You bite your lip.

“Think you can move, or am I gonna have to cut the suit?” you ask, settling on the small sliver of couch left for you, pressing against his thighs. Opening the med-kit, everything gets set out in preparation.

There’s a groan and instantly you zone in on Jason’s face, twisted in pain.

“Just take it off. Trying to replace this shit is too annoying,” he grunts, slowly sitting up. You watch him closely, taking in every small twitch and tense muscles. Gently, hands are placed around his waist, slowly peeling back the top half of his suit. Jason’s been through this a lot. Too much, you think sourly. He forcibly relaxes and doesn’t move when his shirt finally pulls away from his wound. It takes several minutes, going slow and checking over everything, before his top is finally off of him and tossed on the floor somewhere.

His chest is littered with bruises and small scratches, but none of it compares to the gaping knife wound spanning from his ribs to waist. You’re not going to lie, the amount of blood along with how deep the wound is disgusting—you don’t want to know what muscle you’re seeing behind his peeled back skin—but you hold your breath.

Neither of you say anything. You’re focused on cleaning, disinfecting, and wincing as you feel and hear loose skin squish against the needle held in bloody hands. You only fully relax when everything is safely bandaged behind white gauze. Eyes dart up to Jason’s face, becoming slightly startled and embarrassed when you find him already looking at you. Maintaining eye-contact, you reach a hand up to his face, gently brushing over his cheek.

“Anything else I need to know?” you ask quietly, afraid to break whatever comfortable silence the two of you have. Jason takes in a deep breath and shakes his head, leaning into your hand. You don’t want to disturb him. He finally looks somewhat peaceful and not in too much pain after the many pills you shoved at him to take. “I’m going to get a washcloth and some clothes, okay? Don’t move.”

Jason flinches and wide eyes meet yours. “I was, uh, I wasn’t planning on staying,” he says, obviously confused. You stare into his eyes. He only stares back.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do you honestly think I’m letting you leave this apartment in this state?”

“I’ve had worse, nothin’ to worry about your pretty head about, doll,” he grunts. He’s in the process of sitting up, but doesn’t get too far before a hand is pushing him back down.

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” you dryly respond, “Now, you’re going to sit here and wait for me to come back, okay?”

There must be something showing in your expression because Jason takes a moment before relenting with a sigh. “Hurry it up then, I’m tired and want to sleep.”

You scoff. Honestly, the audacity of this man is astounding. You quickly gather clean clothes for him, random stuff he’s left here from past visits. Armed with a bowl of water and a washcloth, you’re ready to tackle the problem of wiping him down. By the time you make it back to the couch, Jason’s already discarded his pants and shoes. He smiles widely as soon as he sees you, wiggling his eyebrows. The washcloth you were holding is now hitting him in the face.

“Wha—Hey!” Jason pouts, “What was that for?”

The bowl of water is set down on the table, a little splashing over the sides. You look up to him. “You woke me up at an ungodly hour, bleeding out, made me fix you, and then expected me to wipe you down myself? Are you kidding me, Jason?”

You’re actually a little upset. It’s not that you haven’t seen him covered in blood before, but usually it’s not his blood he’s covered in. You knew what you were signing up for when you got together, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying. A warmth wraps around your clenched fist and squeezes. You focus back into the present.

Jason’s looking at you with furrowed brows and a frown. You look down at your hands before you’re suddenly exhausted. Stumbling, you sit down next to Jason and deflate into his side.

“I–I’m sorry. Just…” you close your eyes and take a moment to collect yourself. “It’s just scary. Seeing you like that.”

Your chin is gently clasped and turned to look over to your lover sitting next to you. A thumb brushes against your cheek. “No, doll, I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” Jason whispers, regret filling every word.

Shaking your head, you cover his hand with yours to keep him from pulling away. “Don’t. I would rather you come to me like this than I not knowing, with you in some dirty alley or safe house,” you reply and press a gentle kiss to his palm. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

The exhaustion has finally caught up to you, dragging you down. You didn't really want to leave him alone, but a large yawn seizes you. Giving him another once, you deem it okay to leave him by himself.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Join me when you're clean,” you lean forwards and press a gentle kiss to his lips before silently making your way back into the bedroom. Too much has happened too early in the morning. Collapsing onto the bed, you take in a deep breath. You won’t go to bed without him, but your eyelids are heavy and begging for you to close them, so you do.

The next thing you know, the bed is dipping next to you while the blankets slowly cover you up. Not opening your eyes at all, you blindly reach out your left hand and wave it in the air until it makes purchase on something. A hand catches yours. Even with your eyes closed, you can basically feel the guilt he has for worrying you rolling off in waves. Gripping his hand tightly, you drag him down and press your body to his, keeping him in place. You're not chancing him leaving as soon as you fall asleep.

Your head rests on his chest, the gentle thump of his heart and rhythmic breathing is quickly lulling you back to sleep. In your last moments of consciousness, you feel his arm wrap around your back and a pressure on the crown of your head.

“G’night, doll,” he whispers. With him safely wrapped around you in the comfort of your home together, sleep is quick to find you.

fin.

[livelovelizz]

you’re an awesome writer !! i finished reading the quackity one shot and a part of a wilbur one and they’re so good! have my support !!❤️❤️❤️❤️👍👍👍🖤🖤🤍🤍

omg thank you :(( this means a lot to me <3 i hope you enjoy everything else i have published!

[livelovelizz]

love enough to drown it out

c!captain puffy x reader

tw: none

The Dream SMP isn’t kind to people. You go in, bright and beautiful and wonderfully you. It starts slow, but it’s sure. Seeping into your pores, it crawls and twists and sneaks, infecting your soul. Turning from someone youthful and full of life to something grotesque and ill. When you come out the other side, you are an empty husk of what you use to be.

You wish it didn’t have to be this way. You wish you didn’t have to watch countless people you love turn to beasts without any sympathy. At least you can recognize the ways it’s changed you. From someone always laughing and smiling at something, you are much less gracious with your emotions now; projecting apathy or smugness at best—in public at least.

Behind doors, you can be yourself. Show any emotions you want, show any desire you want, any semblance of an attachment. That’s what you think, as you lie in bed with the early morning rays of sun hitting your bare shoulders and warming you up.

It’s nothing compared to the warmth you feel when you look at your sleeping lover's face. Your hand strokes her delicate cheek tenderly, careful not to apply too much pressure. Watching in awe at how strong she is. How short little breaths come out, how her eyebrows furrow before settling again, how she shifts forward further into your embrace. It makes your heart fill with joy and love and contentedness.

On any other day, you would spiral into your emotions, confused on how someone so perfect could love you. But today isn’t that day, and you’re content to lie here and stare at her for hours.

“Stop starin’ at me,” Puffy grumbles, turning her face into the pillow. You laugh and press your forehead to hers.

“Good morning, my sleeping beauty,” you coo.

Puffy scoffs and peaks an eye open. “It’s creepy. Stop,”

You hum in thought before— “Nope. I quite enjoy basking in your presence.”

“Oh my god,” she grumbles, “What’s gotten into you this morning?”

You watch her sit up and yawn, arms stretching up above her head and into the sky. She rubs at her eyes before standing up unsteadily. You prop yourself up on one elbow and watch as she starts towards the bathroom.

“Nothing, my sweet little pumpkin pie,” you smile, “Why can’t I admire you?”

Puffy stops at the threshold of the en suite. Turning her head around, she gives you an unimpressed stare. “Never say that again, or I swear to God I will kill you,”

With that, she flips you off. Clutching at your heart, you fall back with a pained noise, as if you got shot. You hear her giggle and then the door shuts. Rolling your eyes, you guess you should also get up and start the day. You go through the motions, with fatigue dragging your body down and begging for you to return to bed. You just finished getting dressed as Puffy exits the bathroom, looking sufficiently more refreshed.

Perking up, you remembered the plans you have for today.

“Puffy!” you interrupt the silence, causing Puffy to jump. She turns to you with an alarmed face. “Get dressed and meet me down stairs! Hurry, hurry!”

Puffy’s face twists. “Uh, okay—”

You don’t wait for her to finish before hurriedly exiting the bedroom, practically skipping in excitement. It’s been so long since you’ve had a day to yourselves, away from everyone else and you were determined to make today a rest day. You've been planning this for weeks now!

In the kitchen, you reach for a basket that’s kept in the very back of your cabinets, one that was reserved for happier times. Pulling it out, the faint hint of dust makes nostalgia wash over you.

Setting the basket gently on the counter, you start to gather everything you prepped the night before. Crackers, check. Cheese, check. Chocolate, check. Wine? Double check. You just finished packing everything in and closed the lid when Puffy enters the kitchen.

She still looks confused, lips tilted downwards and eyebrows furrowed. She meets your gaze, scanning your body before moving to the object next to you. It takes a minute, but as soon as she realizes what’s going on, her lips part in an ‘o’ shape.

“Are we—are we going on a picnic?” she stutters, shuffling closer to you. You smile and nod, holding out a hand. Absent-minded, she puts her hand in yours. You pull her in and kiss her knuckles.

“Yeah, thought we could use a break,” you reply, “What do you think? Me and you, away from here for a little?”

You can see the uncertainty bloom in her. Puffy tries to take her hand back, but you simply keep it in place. “But—but what if someone needs me? What if—”

“Shh,” you hush, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She sighs into you, kissing back with a little more passion. Smiling, you pull back. “Let me take care of you today. Nothing’s going to burn down because you’re gone,”

Puffy quirks an eyebrow but smiles back at you anyway. “I actually think that’s quite possible, with the people here,”

You laugh but agree. “Come on, why don’t we head out?”

And so you go, packing up some other things like a blanket and some pillows. It’s a surprisingly nice day, like it knew to put on it’s best performance for you two. Your hands are locked in an embrace, and you look over to Puffy. She’s wearing a woven sun hat, but underneath her hair is loose, flowing freely in the gentle breeze. She looks absolutely divine with the sun gleaming down on her. She’s glowing. Love bursts in your heart and you can’t resist leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Puffy only smiles in return, continuing whatever she was talking about before—you’re a little to caught up looking at her to really hear what she’s saying.

Finally, when you reach the end of the path on onto nature, you come across the perfect spot. A soft gentle hill, with the perfect decline. Flowers cover the hill, bees buzzing and birds chirping. You settle down a blanket and get comfortable. The lunch is delicious, the food is good but the company is great. Laughing and smiles dominant the conversation.

When the wine gets drained and stomachs filled with food, Puffy yawns and shifts.

“Do you want to take a nap?” you ask, brushing a stray piece of hair off her shoulder. She ponders it for a moment before nodding. There’s some readjustment, a few curses let out as rocks poke her, but eventually she settles with her head in your lap. She closes her eyes and you get lost in her features again.

“Thank you for doing this,” Puffy says, softly rubbing her thumb over your hand.

You can’t properly express your love. “You won’t take care of yourself, so someone has to.”

“Still,” she insists, eyes straining with some kind of emotion you don’t wish to decipher.

You lean down to kiss her. It’s a little awkward, and your back is straining from the weird position, but the kiss is sweet and totally worth it. For a while, nothing can be heard besides the chime of grass and song of birds. A calming feeling settles over the hill.

“I love you. I want you to be happy,” you murmur against her lips. “I’m happy when you’re happy.”

Puffy laughs and kisses you again before you pull away. Her eyes are sparkling. “Good thing I’m delighted right now, huh?”

You feel your lungs inflate with a rush of the scenery—air, flowers, grass, and Puffy, oh Puffy. You love her so much, and she smiles because she knows.

fin.

[livelovelizz]

there's something tragic about you

c!quackity x reader ; the fiancés

tw: suggestive content (talk of nudity, kissing) ; hurt/comfort

The setting sun disappeared behind towering buildings as you walk steadily towards your destination. Your exposed arms shuddered against the chill of the cool evening breeze. Glancing down at your wristwatch, it’s barely visible in the fading light. 8 o'clock sharp. Taking a moment to marvel at your punctuality, you turn a corner. That's when you heard your name being shouted from somewhere in the distance.

You look around in all directions, finally meeting the luminescent green of the one and only Charlie Slimecicle. A grin splits your face from it’s usual pensiveness. “What’s up, Charlie?”

As soon as he reaches your position, the two of you start to continue walking. “Oh, I am up nothing! Just doing normal human activities,” he replies, pointing to the ground. “Like walking!”

You nod. Charlie is the epitome of quirky and endearing. “Walking is perfectly normal,” you agree. The sun has now disappeared, leaving nothing to chase away the cold that seeps into your bones. Shivering, you cross you arms to conserve body heat. You glance up to the nearest street sign and almost sigh in relief. Between the aching in your feet from uncomfortable shoes to the increasing chill and darkness, you cannot wait to be home. Next to you, Charlie is babbling about something or another, but you couldn’t really listen, letting the noise wash over you instead to offer a backtrack to the emptiness of your mind.

You hum and offer small input when needed, but mostly you let your mind drift as your body runs on auto-pilot. You barely noticed Charlie even stopped until you almost ran into his back. Flinching back in surprise, you look up to see what stopped him.

“Quackity from Las Nevadas!” Charlie shouts, “How are you?”

Sure enough, Quackity stands just ahead of you speaking to someone in a suit you don’t recognize. At the shout of his name, he turns at catches sight of the two of you. Walking closer, you catch a glimpse of a smile before it’s smothered into a neutral expression. He nods his head at the business man, muttering something quietly to them. The man doesn’t seem too pleased, but he nods his head back anyway and walks away.

As soon as the man disappears from sight, a smile graces Quackity’s features. As soon as you’re in reaching distanced, you’re pulled into his chest. “How are you, mi amor?” he questions, pulling back to observe your figure. You roll your eyes and shove him lightly.

“I’m good—” you pause. Quackity raises his eyebrows. You lick your lips. “Maybe a bit hungry. My feet hurt and I’m cold,”

Quackity’s smile only grows and he makes to remove his jacket. “Well we can’t have that, can we?” He drapes his suit jacket across your shoulders, a sigh escaping you as the layer warms you up a bit.

“I can also feel cold!” Charlie interjects, smile large and with teeth. “I’m just human like that!”

Quackity tuts. “We should get you inside then. I don’t need two frozen people under my watch!”

He slips an arm around you waist and then the three of you are off. You press closer into his side. “Oh, so one icicle is fine?”

He looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes.”

“How’re we gonna break the news to Slime?” you stage whisper, a conspirator smile on your face.

“Oh no, please do not make me freeze—” Charlie worries. Quackity also has a large grin on his face.

He tightens his grip and pulls you in closer. “Who said I’d save you?”

He laughs, high-pitched and careless while you can also stare in astonishment. After a few seconds gaping in disbelief, you scoff and nudge your shoulder into his side. He only nudges back harder. Narrowing your eyes at the challenge, you shove back harder. You assumed Quackity wanted to retaliate, but the front doors of the casino popped into view and while Quackity is an absolute menace, he also has a reputation to upkeep. You can feel in take in a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. You walk through the lobby, occasionally acknowledging people you nod at you first.

You guys and Charlie parts ways, him off to do whatever it is he does. The elevator opens up to your suite and you shuffle inside. Taking off your shoes make you audibly groan, stretching out the sore muscles. Quackity’s jacket slips off your shoulders, you hastily running to the bedroom to hang it up. Quackity had the same idea, albeit less rushed. He walks into the bedroom a minute after you first appeared. The large closet was opened as you mess around with the innards to find what you were looking for.

“I’m going to take a bath,” you say, hearing Quackity hum in acknowledgment. “Wanna join?”

You turn around, robe and pajamas in tow. Quackity gasps, hand over his heart as wide eyes stare at you in surprise. “Mi amor! Are you trying to see me… naked?” he dramatically states. “I’ll have you know, I’m saving myself for marriage and don’t—”

“So that’s a yes?” you cut him off, hip popping to one side. Quackity’s paused mid-sentence, mouth opened wide. He opens and closes it for a few seconds before he sighs, moving to the drawers where he keeps his pajamas.

“Of course, mi amor. I’ll meet you in there,” he says. You give him a quick peck on the way out, turning on the bathroom’s lights and set your things down. You pad over to the tub and let the water run for a few moments to get it hot before you plug it up. Making a split-second decision, some soaking salt was splashed in as well as some essential oils. A little recovery night never hurts someone. You just got done searching around for a candle when the man of the hour walks in. You light it and observe your work. Deeming it alright, you turn to find your lover staring. He wiggles his eyebrows and walks closer.

“Am I allowed to disrobe thee?” he asks. You roll your eyes and lift your arms up, a silent ‘yes’ providing consent. He takes his time to be gentle, making sure you barely feel his hands or your clothes being taken off. Some might say the act of taking clothes off is sexual, but in this moment, all you feel is tender love filling up your body. As the last pieces hits the floor, Quackity presses gentle kisses to your shoulders while you return the favor. You reach up to his neck, a cold piece of metal meets your hand, and you’re met with the sight of his ex-fiances’ ring.

Quackity lifts his head and stares at you. You don’t blame him for keeping it around, in fact it would bother your more if he just discarded it. You can tell he always worries about your thoughts of it from the way his lips purse to his body being angled more towards you, as if he could distract you from seeing them. Thumbing the ring, you smile at him and kiss his cheek to sooth his worry. Instantly, he relaxes and you almost have to toss the ring onto the counter before you’re dragged towards the tub.

You sigh in bliss as you sink into the hot water, letting your eyes slide shut. Water sloshes around you as Quackity starts to sit behind you. As soon as you feel he’s fully seated, you lean back into his chest, hands automatically wrapping around your midsection. With the gentle smell of relaxing oils, and the hot water massaging tired muscles, you let yourself be enveloped by it.

-

Not everything is so peachy. It’s late at night, lights turned off yet no one asleep. No one ever falls asleep in Las Nevadas. You’re currently laying in an empty bed and staring at the wall, the spot next to you long past being warm. The penthouse is very luxurious and more than you could ever ask for, but the sheer size of it makes you feel more alone than ever with no one to buffer empty space. You turn to look out the wall length windows. Bright lights assault your eyes, distant shouting can be heard from the streets. You’re starting to get a headache already.

Making a split second decision, you get up, wrapping your robe around you and slipping your feet into slippers. Padding out the bedroom and into the main room, you spot a shadowed figure out on the balcony, smoke billowing away from them.

The door handle makes your fingers go cold from how freezing it is, but you slide open the glass door anyways. You’re greeted with harsh winds that tousle your hair and weave through your robe.

The figure turns around, dark eyes glinting in the night. Quackity opens his mouth and smoke rolls out of it, polluting your eyes and the second-hand smoke burns your nose.

“What’re you doing out here? You should be asleep,” he says, leaning against the balcony railing. You shuffle closer, pressing into his side.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you reply. Down below, people run around shouting at each other, bells occasionally going off. LED lights makes the city a living rainbow. It’s quite beautiful. Returning your eyes to Quackity, you watch with lazy attention as he takes a long drag before letting out an even longer breath. He drops the cigarette to the floor and stamps it out, twisting his foot on it. He smiles at you and opens his arms, to which you immediately burrow in.

Something cold hits your cheek and you pull back, catching sight of glinting metal. You bring your hand to it and gently clasp the ring.

“I…” Quackity starts. You look up with a noncommittal hum, still thumbing the ring. He breaks eye contact, staring out into the city that never sleeps.

“You know I… I’m with you now, right?” he whispers.

You hum. “I know.”

“I only have my eyes on you.” Quackity insists. You smile at him.

“Then why do you still carry this around?”

To emphasize your point, you tug on the chain. Hurt flashes on his face and he looks away. Your eyebrow quirks up and you lift a hand to his cheek and force him to look back at you.

“I’m not mad, okay?” you begin, “I know how much they mean to you,”

He scoffs but covers the hand on his face with his. “Meant. How much they meant to me, you mean,”

“Nah,” you hum, tugging on the chain again for affect. Quackity leans in closer to where your faces hover against one another. “How much they do mean to you. You’re not over them,”

And with that, you seal the deal with your lips pressing gently into him. You try and focus all your emotions into this one kiss, hoping he can understand what needs to happen. Letting go of the chain, you wrap your arm around his neck to bring him in closer. He readily follows, both hands dropping to grasp your hips. Once the need for air becomes too put, you pull away giggling when he chases your lips.

You stare into his bright eyes. One is dark and reflects bright lights back at you, like thousands of little stars. The other one is a glassy white, the moon who watches you. He rests his forehead against yours with a small grin.

“Why’d we stop?” he asks, pushing your body until you’re pressed between the railing and him. His knee prods in between your legs, making you feel like jelly. Quackity makes a move to lean back in, but you stop him with firm pull at his shirt. He follows your lead, but looks at you in confusion. Trailing a finger down his scar, you savor this moment. It could be the last.

“I think you should talk to them,” you whisper. For a second, nothing happens. You see the exact moment he makes the connection, because he jerks back with wide eyes and an open mouth. You purse your lips and hold onto him tighter to stop him from leaving. Both of you know he could easily overtake you, but he doesn’t. The thought makes you warm inside. It doesn’t overpower the guilt, however. “I think you need to talk. You deserve closure. Explanation,”

He closes his eyes before his features twist into a scowl. He pulls away just enough until the only part of you touching is your hands on his shoulders. “Yeah?” he bites out, “Why don’t you just tell me you want to leave too,”

“Are you serious right now?” you’re astonished. “I’m just saying, it’ll help you figure out your emotions!”

He rips your hands off. You feel hurt crawl up your throat, making the temporary anger dissipate. Quackity’s lips are pulled into an almost-snarl. You shake your head and cautiously take a half-step forward. He doesn’t move, only clenches his jaw and crosses his arms, which you take as a win.

“Don’t you want to know?” you speak softly, “Aren’t you curious?”

You close the distance again, slowly wrap a hand around his elbow. “I think they owe you at least that, don’t you think?”

You watch his eyes, as they search your face for something. Quackity sighs and drops his arms, shoulders hunched in on yourself. You thought he’d put up more of a fight, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t thankful. He mumbles something and you frown in question. “What was that?”

He embraces you, taking you by surprise but without hesitation to cling back.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” he whispers. You can hear the quiver in his voice. You press a kiss into his hair.

“I won’t let you,” you declare.

-

This was always going to happen. Maybe you didn’t realize in the beginning, but as time went on, it was really inevitable. You were doomed to fail.

He could have been madly in love with you, but he was already wholly and tragically in love with his fiances’. Love arrives exactly when it’s supposed to. Sometimes it stays, sometimes it can’t. And as you pack your things, you look out into the penthouse and realize: this was a temporary visit.

Footsteps draw you out of your wallowing. You turn and meet the sight of your once-was lover. You appraise him. He looks the same, black hair stowed away in a beanie, scar raised against freckled skin, and attire fit for a man whose on-top of the world. But you also see something different—the lightness in his shoulders. The small curve of his lips, as if he’s seconds away from breaking out into a smile. He’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Away,” you answer. You can’t look away. His features fall into despair. It makes you want to apologize and comfort him, running your fingers through his hair and promise you never meant it.

He takes a few steps forward. “W—why?”

“Quackity,” you smile. “I can’t stay here.”

He looks like he wants to resist, like he also wants to come over and make you feel better. All he does is reach a hand out before letting it drop. He nods slowly, like he’s trying to convince himself to be okay with it. He walks closer and wordlessly tugs you into a warm embrace. A burning feeling creeps up your throat with effort as you try not to cry. Your head is laid against his chest, ear to his steadily beating heart. You needed to ask him something. You needed to know.

“At least part of it was real right?” you choke out, eyes rapidly clouding with tears.

“Oh, mi amor,” he sounds heartbroken, “All of it was real.”

A sob breaks through and a hand flies to your mouth to stop. Quackity only tightens his grip and cradles your head. More footsteps interrupt you. You push him away, frantically wiping at your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you give a shaky smile to the three of them. Sapnap and Karl look worried, shyly walking up to Quackity’s side. Their eyes dart from you to Quackity, trying to decipher if they need to step in. Your entire being longs to be there instead.

You clear your throat to draw their attention. Bending down to reach your bags, an awkward pause fills the room. “I guess this is goodbye,” you call out. Quackity frowns.

“Come visit okay?” Quackity calls out desperately. “Don’t be a stranger!”

His eyebrows are furrowed and eyes wild with grief. It’s not fair how much you love him. You’ll remember the early mornings, where his breath is stained by coffee and where the world has yet to ruin his mood. You’ll call upon how he always valued your opinion, from what will be for dinner or what the new floor in the casino should be decorated like. You’ll miss the gentle hands the took you apart, the heart that was opened up to you. You’ll miss him for the rest of your life.

Next to Quackity, Sapnap wraps an arm around his waist with a gentle squeeze. Karl hovers behind his other shoulder. This is a necessary evil, you remind yourself. He’ll be taken care of and loved for the rest of eternity.

“Oh, my dear,” you respond. “You won’t see me ever again,”

You walk out with your bags grasped tightly in your hands, lip quivering and tears that flow down your face. You’ll miss him indeed, but you’ll miss who you were with him more.

fin.

[livelovelizz]

Ur newest Wilbur fic!! Everything I have ever wanted and more 🥺🤲

omg!! honestly didn't expect much attention, these are very self indulgent but !!!! thanks for your support i love you <3

[professorwerewolfmcwerewolf]

I’m watching Hunger Games atm and I wanna talk about a Gen Z Hunger Games. Like if the games had been going on for 73 years prior to now. This year was the 74th where the story starts.

*watches someone get shot in the neck*

*shrugs* *looks into camera* It be like that sometimes Carl.

“Who’s Carl?”

“The camera. I named that camera Carl.”

~

*during the bloodbath* *bell rings* *we continue to stand unmoving*

Tribute: “Alright fuckers, which of you Slytherins is gonna move first?”

~

More suicides than other games. But we get creative.

*makes bowls from rocks or whatever* *mixes poisonous berries with bad water* *toasts with friend* Cheers!

*drinks* mmmm bleach *dies*

~

Some theatre geeks: *cannon sounds* Boom! Goes the cannon! Watch the blood and the shit spray! Boom! Goes the cannon! We’re abandoning this bay!

~

Tribute: We should team up… Follow me:

Tribute @ ↑: Nah nah nah sister! You ain’t getting me to no secondary location! Street Smarts!

~

Tribute: *realizes they’re dying* Mr. Stark… I don’t feel so good.

~

Tribute: *about to fight so people* Maximum Effort.

Same tribute↑: *searching for someone for revenge* Where’s Francis!?

~

There’s some are millennials in there with us. Maybe a Gen X. And there’s one or two baby boomers.

[gen-zee]

Nothing, I repeat nOTHING could ever replicate both the absolute chaos and unity created by Kahoot. But the question is, which kid are you?: The kid panicking over wifi signal? The kid going “bUT I CLICKED THE OTHER ONE”? The kid sighing in defeat? The kid screaming in pain? The kid shouting in joy? The kid who’s like “was I toooo fast? no. kashoot yourself bitch”? The kid who’s lost their soul to Kahoot? Every single one. You are and have been every single last one of these and if you say that you aren’t, you’re a fucking liar.

[spidey-hoco]

i didn’t watch 17 (and soon 18) interconnected superhero films just for tony stark to get smushed by a ugly alien grape in the 19th, reblog if you agree

[babyknivez]

reblog if you’re part of the holy trinity of unrecognized and dismissed sexualities

bisexual, pansexual, and asexual