#openly affectionate danny

[darkeneddawningmain]

Tags via bjurnberg:

Danny gets adopted by Bruce Wayne au but consider: Danny was brought up in a loving-if absolutely insane- household where pda and mushy gushy stuff wasn't only said, but expected.

The bats almost never voice thier love for one another, instead showing it in a variety of different ways.

What I'm saying is that Danny keeps nearly killing them by saying "I love you." I'm not even joking. Danny has nearly offed the bats more times in his week staying in wayne manor than any Gotham villian would dare try

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 9

Hey... Sorry it took me a minute. I've decided this is definitely not the only club scene for them because there's a lot I want t explore with them. Part of me wants to apologize for adding so much in but I hope you guys love them as much as I do!!! They are one of my all time favorite pairings to write.

Also don't worry Im working on getting rid of Danny lol

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WC- 10.2k

Warnings- dom/sub dynamic, BD/SM, Exhibitionism, voyeurism, degrading, choking, sir/daddy kink, pet/puppy nicknames, name calling, slight Mean Dom H mixed with soft Dom tbh, tiny bit of humiliation kink, aftercare is in the next part I promiseeeee

Y/N was buzzing in her own skin. 

So much was happening in her brain that it felt borderline overwhelming. She stood in Harry’s bathroom looking into the mirror with her hands on her face, just to confirm that she was, in fact, a real person. 

The night prior had been intense. A lot, but in a good way. Something had shifted between them, as she suspected, but neither of them were truly ready to talk about it. Harry was instead, a lot more affectionate which… to be honest, she hadn’t expected. It was a glorious change, feeling his hands or eyes on her whenever she was in a room with him. He’d had her sit on his lap while he proof read something on his laptop, his hand stroking over her stomach and underneath one of his shirts that he’d put on her after their bath the night before. There was no urgency to talk, Y/N leaning her head on his shoulder and relaxing into the warm, fresh smell of the man she was so connected to whilst scrolling on her phone. He’d made them breakfast and ordered them lunch, but she had noticed a distinct lack of kissing. 

It made her wonder if she pushed a bit last night, asking for one. Somehow she doubted it considering he had been the one giving her kisses the last few weekends together, but there was a weird seed of dread in her stomach that reminded her that at some point the weekend would be over and the warm place she had in the pool of Harry’s warmth would dry up and she’d need to come back up for air. To go through the week without seeing him, except maybe for a lunch, when she had grown so needy for his mere presence. He was attentive even when they weren’t physically around, more than the man she had called her boyfriend, but it still didn’t feel like enough. As weird and freaky as it sounded, she wanted to crawl under his skin somehow. Get as close as possible. 

Tonight they’d be going to the sex club. Something she was both excited and nervous about, the weird feeling in her chest making her wonder which one outweighed the other. Harry had communicated very clearly that this first visit was going to be rather tame- or, as tame as a sex club visit could be. They’d watch a scene he had pre chosen, a voyer couple in a room open to exhibitionists. Before that, they’d mingle and he would introduce her to some of his friends he had there. 

One thing she wasn’t too sure about though, was getting too close to anyone he had played with before. Y/N, while not historically jealous, found her skin crawling with ants at the idea of having to be around someone else who knew how he tasted, how he looked when he came. Sure, he wasn’t officially hers, but it felt like it more than she cared to admit. That had added on to her anxiety but it wasn’t something she wanted to openly admit to him yet, so she kept it under wraps for the time being.

He’d done something nice for her and got her a dress. A cute little thing, lacy and white. A sweetheart neckline and strapless, she was hoping the strapless bra was going to do its job- but then again, she kind of hoped maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he had chosen the dress for ease of access. The idea of him slipping down the top and playing with her in front of other people had her wet the moment she thought about it. 

Her panties, though, were noticeably missing in the ensemble. When she asked about them, his smirk had rose on his lips. “Who said you were getting any?”

So all in all, she was a complete and utter wreck of hormones and anxiety. 

Freshly showered, she had fixed her hair and sat staring at herself with her makeup half done. Another of the dominant’s shirts hung off her shoulders. He had a vanity that was cleared of anything but her stuff, which was nice, but another flare of jealousy had worked its way through her. Who else had used this vanity for this exact thing? Who else had been getting ready for him to take them to the club to play with them in the way that was so uniquely Harry? 

It was no right of hers to be jealous or possessive when she was still in a relationship, though it was one she was having her doubts about. Her phone remained empty of any texts from him. The longer he put it off, the less she cared about what he had to say. Anger wasn’t really there considering Harry had been giving her plenty of attention, but still. Her brain was craving the quiet only the Dominant had managed to give her. 

“Alright?” His sudden appearance made her squeal, jumping in her chair. Clutching her ever beating heart, she looked at him wide eyed in the reflection. Where the fuck had he come from and how long had he been there? 

“Fucks sake, H.” She wheezed. “You need some sort of bell or something. How long have you been standing there?” Where she expected a laugh, she got none. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed, he turned the chair towards him and lifted a hand to tilt her head up. “For a minute or two. I was waiting for you to notice but…” Eyes scrutinized her face. “You’re nervous.” 

There wasn’t much she could hide from him. To be fair, she hadn’t planned on it, but it was still annoying, borderline unsettling on how he could read her like an open book. “A little. It’s not a big deal though.” 

“We don’t have to go yet, if you aren’t ready. We don’t have to go at all.” His voice was soft as he kept his face placid, clearly trying not to sway her either way. It was yet another confirmation to her that he actually did give a fuck about her well being. 

The idea of not going at all, though, made her shake her head rapidly. Wouldn’t that mean they would cut off their arrangement? As selfish as it was, she couldn’t give him up yet. She couldn’t give up the orgasms and the kisses and the praise, just as much as she didn’t want to give up the daily texts and jokes and pictures of Buttons when she was back at her own place. “No! It’s just, it’s a little intimidating. That’s all.” She sighed, leaning into his hand. That seemed to soften him a bit, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip as he tried to gage her. 

“What about it has got you intimidated?” 

It felt oddly good having him standing over her, petting at her. His gaze soft, looking down at her as he tried to make her feel comfortable but undeniably in control of the situation. Of her. 

“You know people there, mostly. But the whole thing. I know we’ve gone over what we’re doing but it feels bigger the closer we get there. Y’know?” She puckered her lips over the pad of his thumb, watching as his smile tipped the corner of his lips. These tiny acts of intimacy were going to be the ones that ruined her. “I’m very excited. It’s what I’ve wanted, you know? And I kinda think that makes me put more pressure on the expectation.” 

Harry hummed in his throat, nodding along to her observations. It made logical sense and she knew it, but seeing him agree made her feel a little better. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“It is intimidating. It's taboo, in a way. Something that’s going to shock your system. You don’t go many places with people being so open sexually around you. It isn’t so blatant until the shows start, but even then. It’s the sort of stuff you're used to fantasizing about, and to see it right in front of you can be a lot to take in. Seeing people on leashes, or full body spandex, masks, all of that. It’s new to you, so I expect it to be intimidating to you. But may I offer you a few pieces of advice?” 

Y/N would lick his shoes if he asked in the right tone of voice, so she nodded. She wondered if she would get away with it, and his eyes did narrow, but he chose to let it go. 

“The only person I’m going to be focusing on when we go is you. I have some friends, yes, and I’d like you to meet them and their submissives, but I’m not expecting you to make best friends at the first meeting.” He started, ever so slowly pushing his thumb into her mouth. Testing the waters. Like second nature, she began to suck lightly on the tip of it as he continued talking, the tip of her tongue brushing the pad of his finger. “But the real advice I have is to let go. Let me control the night. I’ve got you, I’ve got everything you need to do up in my head. All you’ve got to do is follow directions. If I tell you to say hello? Say hello. If I don’t, you don’t. If I tell you to sit on my lap, you sit there. Tell you to get on your knees, you do it. If I tell you to suck my cock, you do it. Because everyone else there is doing the same thing, if not, they’re there to watch it happen. There’s nothing you need to worry that pretty little head about.” His eyes darkened slightly as she took his thumb a little further into her mouth, blinking up at him. “Okay? Daddy’s got you.” 

Somehow it worked. Some of that anxiety melted away, realizing he was fully serious. All she needed to do was listen to him. That was the backbone of all of this. 

“You’re in control. You’ve got the power to color out, you’ve got the boundaries and I’m just there to make sure you’re tended to properly. Remember what I said, hm? Me being in control is only because you allow me to be.” 

That had been something she learned more and more as the time passed by with him. As incredible as it felt to have him be in charge, she had the ultimate say so. She could color out at any moment. There was no reason not to trust him because he had never given her a reason not to. 

“Your safe word isn’t just for sex, either. Anything you want to stop tonight, you tell me. I know you’ll be good and remember that, but I just need to remind you before you hand yourself over to me. I will never be disappointed or angry because you need a break, or you don’t want to do something. I care about you a lot more than I care about nutting off or showing off to people.” 

In truth, Harry would never forgive himself if something happened and she ever felt unsafe with him. It was a team effort, yeah, but he did think he was good enough at reading her that he would be extremely upset if he didn’t predict something like that. Y/N did run a bit anxious sometimes. He’d been able to get her to a point where she completely let go for him, and he wanted to repeat that pattern over and over until the weight that she felt on her shoulders lessened. As strong as the woman was, he wanted to help take some of it on his own back. 

His thumb pulled from her mouth with a soft ‘pop’, the dominant ignoring the whimper and smearing the sweetness of her saliva over her chin. It was the world’s highest honor to see her eyes round out for him, to watch her track his every moment like the eager pet she had proven to be for him. Knowing she wanted to please him made him feel more powerful, more fulfilled, than he had been in a very long time. Showing her off was something he had been more than looking forward to doing, but there wouldn’t have been any use in doing it if she wouldn’t feel equal enjoyment. “Are we okay, Sweets?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed, the sigh exhaling against his damp finger. “I gotta finish getting ready though. You have my outfit picked out on the bed?” 

“I do.” He nodded, lightly fingering a loose tendril of hair that brushed her cheek. “And you’ll be wearing that black peacoat over it. Should keep you nice and warm.” Tilting her chin up, he placed one of the first kisses of the evening on her pouty lips before smoothing his thumb back over her mouth. “You’ve got time, darling. Don’t worry.” 

—--

Y/N felt marginally better as she held on to his hand, clinging for dear life on his wrist with the other as they waited at the front entrance. 

There had been quite a lot she expected from a club dedicated to kink. Karma was as sensual and mysterious as ever, but the front of a closed hair salon letting them in had been a shock to the system. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought Harry had lost his mind until he opened the back room door and exposed an entirely different aesthetic. A black and gold elevator, black marble floor and red curtained walls. That had to be a bitch to dust. 

With a key card, he placed it on the gold plated button pad and it opened for them to step inside. Now that she was in the elevator she could hear some music, some people, but nothing she could have ever expected from the street view. Privacy was very important to them, as she could tell. “They’re going to put our phones and my keys into the locker and we’ll get them on the way out. It’s for everyone’s privacy, but there are staff in there to ensure you have an out if you need it.” Unwinding their fingers, his grip changed to her jaw to tilt it up to look at him. The casual dominance had her knees weak. How did he manage to do it so seamlessly? “We’re gonna check out coats, and then we’ll go in. You are safe with me, Pet.” His tone was gentle, reminding her again how he had been the best thing to wander into her life. There was no saying shit just to say it. The man wanted to assure her, drill it into her brain, that he was completely here for her and everything they did was because she wanted to do it. 

As intimidating as it was, she swallowed the lump around her throat and gave him a nod before allowing him to take her coat off.  Standing in front of a hostess and the man who worked the coat check in her little outfit had made her a little stiff at first, but the moment she heard the quiet curse under his breath, their opinions didn’t matter. 

He had chosen a maroon babydoll for her to wear tonight. Satin cups clung over her breasts while it transferred to a tight knit mesh-like material that flowed over her body and hit her upper thighs. The panties had been a bit of a different choice, rather simple silk ones with lace trim. She’d expected lace, a g string, something else but they were really nice. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it made her feel sexy as she had tugged them up her thighs and settled the waistband on her hips. The outfit had surprised her a little considering she had thought maybe he’d want her to wear something completely form fitting or restrictive, like spandex or leather, but instead he’d gone with something more flowy and light. Maybe he was starting them soft for the first time, but it was the sexiest she had felt so far in her life. 

“You look incredible.” He mumbled, placing the coat numbers on the counter with their phones and his keys. “Fuck me.” Lithe fingers traced over the straps, the feather light touch stopping at the necklace he’d chosen for her tonight. A simple gold chain with a heart. At first she had thought he would give her one of those collars, but she wasn’t sure how that worked. 

“I was going to give you the one with my first initial, but I was saving that.” The admission made her eyebrows raise. Why hadn’t he done that? “I wanted to ease you into it, and for some reason you’ve been turnin’ me into a possessive son of a bitch. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep composure if it was on there like that… But I don’t think that matters too much now, anyway.” 

Harry had always known he was attracted to Y/N in otherworldly, almost inappropriately intense ways. While he could be a jealous man, he hadn’t felt it to this degree. Irritated that she didn’t have his name on her neck or a traditional sign of ownership. He was a weak man when it came to her, but he didn’t mind when he could see her preen slightly over his words. The one thing that was soothing his inner caveman was the fact that she had marks from him on her body. Love bites blooming from the swell of her left breast and one he’d sucked on the right side of her neck, a few little bruises from his fingers digging into her hips… They were little badges of honor. 

He’d caught her this morning, admiring them in the foggy mirror. He’d come to bring a fresh towel before she got into the shower and watched quietly as she ran her fingers over the marked skin, the tiniest little smile on her lips that made his cock twitch. If they hadn’t had plans to come here tonight he would have bent her over the counter and gave her more. That silent appreciation at the tiniest hints of ownership meant more than she would ever know. 

“I can wear it next time.” She peeped, meeting his eyes. “I like this one too, but… I like the other idea.” 

The silence was loud for a moment as he observed her, the admission making her look a little flustered. Every day it seemed they were slipping into something far more serious than they’d set out to, but the unspoken words lingered under their tongues. It wasn’t the right time to discuss. “Noted.” Thumbing over her chin, he nodded at her before tucking the tickets from the coat check into the pocket of his pants. “Come on then, Pet. Let’s have a look.” 

—-

Y/N’s eyes were wide as they took in the vast room around her. 

Holy fuck. Harry hadn’t been kidding about it shocking her system. 

His hand held the back of her neck as she was guided towards the bar, where she was warned didn’t sell any actual alcohol for safety reasons. It matched and exceeded her expectations upon first glance. 

The stage was set up with some sort of bench, but it was obvious they’d come before the show had begun. People milled about, laughing and talking as if nothing abnormal was happening- like the woman in her all spandex dress chatting to the bartender, drink in one hand and chain in the other. Connected to the other end of the chain was a man on his knees for her, leather mask covering everything but his eyes and mouth. Not far from her in a booth across the way, a man had a woman on his lap with his hand down her top, playing with her tits and keeping a conversation. 

It wasn’t extreme, no, but it had her a bit spooked. Even more so when she looked to the side and saw a girl on her knees and her face buried under another woman’s dress. So he hadn’t been kidding- it really did happen anywhere. 

Heat flushed over her chest as she averted her gaze, blinking rapidly as she tried to calm her heart. It wasn’t a bad thing, she didn’t think, because she could feel herself becoming excited. Just a walk through and she was warm in her tummy, feeling that anticipation climbing all the way up her throat. She had to wonder what Harry was going to surprise her with tonight. 

“Alright?” He mumbled, turning to face her as they approached the bar. The promise of a sweet, sugary mocktail had been enticing but now her curiosity was wanting to take over. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

“No, Sir.” She shook her head, meeting his eyes. The hand on the back of her neck gave a subtle squeeze, pulling her a little closer. “It’s… I’m curious to see what else goes on, but I think it’s interesting.”

“A lot of things are happening in the rooms. The main stage show isn’t anything too extreme, but the rooms are different theaters on this level, and playrooms on the top level.” The split level was apparent to her now, reminding her a bit of a hotel lobby she’d stayed at once on holiday. Rooms surrounding the top with a walkway that looked down while the bottom was an open concept until it split into four hallways. The place was truly beautiful, albeit a bit intimidating. “What did you want to drink?” 

Y/N looked over the menu with curious eyes, smiling lightly when she saw someone had made a plethora of fruity and sweet concoctions modeled after bubblegum, blue raspberry, cherry, all sorts of stuff. There were more tame things, pina colada and mint julep, but considering she was experimenting tonight she chose something she normally wouldn’t. “Can I have the cotton candy one, Sir?” 

“You may, yes.” The subtle correction had her face flushing for a moment, but she could see he was teasing a little from the dimple threatening to break on his face. God, he was so gorgeous.

It was always apparent that Harry was handsome, but seeing him like this was a whole different experience. His shoulders were bigger, back straighter, a more controlled and poised version of him was at the helm. Was this his best self? Being a dominant, taking and guiding her? He’d said multiple times he liked taking care of people, liked being in charge, so it must feel really good to have her eyes on him at all times. 

When she’d brought up that she’d read a lot about people in her books had dominants that preferred them to avert their eyes, but he’d scoffed at it. In opposition, he’d told her to keep her eyes on him at most times. Joked about it soothing a bit of his ego, but she wasn’t sure how much of it was really a joke at this point. Either way, there would be no complaints about that when the man looked as good as him. Sharp jaw and nose, dark lips, eyelashes that pissed her off because they were so pretty… The man had a way about him that reminded her of classical art. 

When the bartender came over he was greeted with a smile, which he reciprocated with a small one of his own before ordering her the drink she wanted and himself some sort of iced tea thing. She had no clue, considering she was a little busy zoning out. His hand had started to subtly massage the back of her neck and her eyes had glazed over a bit, being pressed into his side making the scent of him increasingly soothing. Perhaps he was doing it for that exact reason, but that was why he was in charge. He knew what to do to calm her nerves. 

As soon as the bartender walked away, he turned back towards her. “And how are you feeling?” Eyes dipping over her body, Y/N swallowed as she knew exactly what he was talking about- and why he looked so damn smug. 

He’d helped her put a plug in before they left. The smallest one, but it had still worked her up a significant amount. There had been something weirdly erotic knowing that he would know why she was shifting around. Trying anal for the first time the night prior had been a mind meltingly good experience, making her even more eager to try new things. It had always been a fantasy of hers, but she hadn’t realized just how good it would feel. How full and connected she would be with it- but again, that was possibly just a Harry thing. He had made the simplest thing far more pleasurable. 

“Good.” She nodded, watching his eyes linger on her breasts. He’d spent time after their sex last night kissing on them in appreciation, letting his lips hover over the marks before he lotioned over her body. Physical touch had to be his top love language, she had deduced. “I, um… It feels weird when I walk. But not bad, Sir.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re walking a bit differently, but you’ll grow used to it. Even more so, I think you’re going to learn to love it.” Adjusting the strap that seemed to be slipping down her shoulder continuously, he let his touch linger. “You’re going to be my good girl and let everyone see how perfect you are, aren’t you?” The tone of his voice dropped into a deeper one, her body reacting to it as she leaned into his touch. “I can’t decide if I want you perched on my lap all night, or if I want you on your knees in front of me.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Decisions, decisions.”

“Whatever you’d like me to do, Sir.” She replied, though there was no true preference. Y/N was aiming to please tonight, subconsciously feeling the pressure to prove she could be a good submissive for him. 

“Oh, I know, pet. You don’t have a choice in that.” He laughed under his breath. “Precious girl. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll tell you to sit and speak like my good Pup, alright? You just stick to me.” 

Y/N a few months ago would probably try to fight his words and the condescending tone because that was what was expected of her. Y/N a few months ago would ignore her body when it reacted to those words. Y/N now, though, let her eyes widen and simply agreed, because deep down that’s what she’s been wanting to do. 

When the drinks arrived, her eyes widened at how pretty it was. A soft pink with some sort of glittery shimmer in the drink, the movement of the liquid catching the light. It was by far the most beautiful drink she’d ever seen in her life, and she didn’t want to waste a drop. Holding it in her hand, she let Harry wrap up with the bartender before turning back to her with a new look on his face. “C’mon, it’s time t’say hi to some people. Best behavior.” With a slight pinch to her chin, he led her off.

Harry’s familiarity was evident in how easily he navigated the club. Winding through people with polite nods and greetings, he radiated the now familiar air of power. It was a little different here, though. While he always held the power in the bedroom, there was something that had snapped on his face when they walked in the room that had her ever curious about his past experiences here. Experiences she wouldn’t ask about for her own sake of delicate feelings, but things that he must have done, said, experienced in this secret cove of underground pleasures. 

Yes, it was a bit whips and chains-y, but there was a classy layer to it that she liked here. The weird feeling of belonging settled in her gut as his hand squeezed the back of her neck, keeping her close as they approached a slightly elevated section. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, taking in every bare tit, every collar, every hand wrapped in hair and laugh in the room as he led her up towards their destination that she had almost missed it completely.

Thankfully she caught herself as Harry gently urged them to a stop right in front of a booth full of people. Semi circular, the tabletop was a bit far from the booth itself- but it was clear why as she looked down at the people. 

There were two people on their knees of their perspective dominants. A brunette with her cheek resting on a blonde woman’s knee, fingers brushing through her dark hair and sparkling nails catching the light as she did so had particularly caught her eye. Instead of a tight outfit like the domme at the bar, she had on a powersuit. Her eyes didn’t look down towards her submissive though giving her physical attention, sharp hazel eyes looking over Y/N like a examination. 

“Isn’t she delicious, Styles?” She purred, cat like grin painting her red lips. “Who is she? I know you’ve been gone for a bit… is she why?” The woman seemed pleased at the prospect of Harry having a new submissive, even if she looked at her like she could eat her for lunch. Her face felt hot as she looked up at Harry, the ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“She is.” The confirmation had the people at the table grinning which caught her a bit off guard. They didn’t know she was temporary and he seemed in no rush to tell them- and neither was she. Maybe they could play pretend here, like she was really his and he wanted to keep her for good. The first of many times they’d come together for as long as they felt so inclined. “This is Y/N. She’s been a wonderful little pet for me. My favorite.” A hand fondly ran over her hair, a little smile on his lips now as he was happy to show her off. “She’s a little new to this, but very eager to learn. So tread lightly, yeah?” 

For some reason the information being told didn’t offend her. Maybe if someone else here seemed like it was funny to them, if they’d scoffed, did anything but look understanding she would feel that shame, but they didn’t. They simply nodded, letting Harry slip into the end of the booth. “On my lap for now, Pet.” He patted his thigh, holding his ringed hand out for her to take.

Y/N could feel eyes on her as she nodded, a quiet ‘yes sir’ leaving her lips as she was adjusted over his lap, legs over his thighs as he wound his arm around her waist to keep her body steady. “Say hello.” The words weren’t disguised as a request. It was clearly an order. Why did she find it so hot? 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you all.” She peeped, leaning into Harry’s touch as he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. It was pretty clear on who was a dominant at the table, versus the submissive. Two were on their knees, two sitting under their dominant’s arms, and one in a similar position to Y/N. 

“Is it your first time here?” A man asked this time. His voice was softer spoken but there was an edge to him that screamed that he was in charge. It was a little similar to Harry in which he looked kind, but anyone with sense would know not to question their particular brand of authority. 

“It is, yes. H-Sir was helping me adjust before I came here. He is the best teacher.” Throwing in a bit of praise for the dominant had the desired affect, lips brushing her cheek in a chaste kiss. 

“What are your thoughts? It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” The woman from before asked curiously, though the hungry spark didn’t leave her eye until Harry spoke to her. 

“I’m not sharing her, Cara.” He said lowly, his hold tightening on her. “She’s not on the menu. Look but don’t touch.” There was a slight edge to his voice though it wasn’t hostile quite yet. Secretly, Y/N let herself preen over the possessive nature being shone through. Knowing he had no desire to let anyone else have a taste of her was beyond comforting- which, she knew was entirely ironic considering the context in which they met.

“Oh, boo.” She sighed. “You’re very beautiful. Harry’s not fond of sharing his chips either so I should have known, but there’s no harm in trying.” The demeanor shifted slightly to something lighter. “My girl likes to have playmates sometimes, but we’re a little picky.” 

Y/N could only imagine. If Harry expressed desire to add someone in for a scene she wouldn’t be too fond of letting just anyone in… but then again, she didn’t want to share in at all in the first place. It wasn’t a closed minded thing, more so the idea of someone else taking his attention away from her making her stomach ache. 

“It’s good to be picky.” Harry nodded. “But my girl isn’t up for shared scenes. I don’t think I’ll ever want to share her.” Fingers brushed over her cheek, still cool from his drink. “I don’t think anyone can blame me for being selfish with a beauty like this.” 

Heat flooded her body, a shy smile on her lips as she looked at him and watched his eyes darken. His pupils dilate. There was no question in her mind that there was truth to his words in this way she had just witnessed them, but it still felt unreal. “You wouldn’t want to share me either, would you?” The words had been softened just for her consumption, the moment being looked over by the others who began talking amongst themselves. For them, though, they were in their own little bubble. 

“No, sir.” The whisper matched his own volume, but the answer made him pleased. She could tell by the look on his face, lightening her own mood just by that alone. Y/N never knew how much she would truly enjoy this sort of thing, never understood how much Harry would change her life, but she was here now and it felt far more intense than one could imagine. 

“Then we’re settled, yeah? They can watch us, but m’not gonna let them touch you. Nor me.” The addition made her giggle, though it was cut off when he caught her lips in a soft kiss. Gentle pressings over her mouth, she counted three before he pulled back and rubbed over her chin. A wistful look followed, his eyes full of contemplation as he looked her over. Back and forth, his thumb swiped the remnants of the kiss before he let himself out of the mindset, leaning back into the booth. “Since you’ve had your greetings, I want you on your knees for me.” Reaching behind him he got a little cushion, dropping it on the floor. Spreading his legs out, he motioned for her to get between them. At least he was thoughtful with her poor knees. 

Y/N was weirdly excited for it. Slowly sinking down and settling with her heels touching her bum, she looked up at him expectantly as he watched her get settled in her new position. It felt… right, being here. Like this. Looking up at him as he spread his legs and looked down at her with a practiced patience on his face. “Sit quietly like a good girl. We’re going to go watch that show in a room in 20 minutes. If you can behave here, I’ll make sure you cum tonight.” 

Y/N knew what he meant. Not to provoke him and get him hard. As much as she wanted to do that, wanted to mouth at his cock and be a brat so he’d force it in her mouth,’or her over his lap to redden her ass, she wasn’t quite that brave yet. Tonight was to prove she could be a good girl for him, the best she could be. Maybe if she was good enough, he’d tell her that he was keeping her. 

Listening to his order, she rested her cheek on his thigh and closed her eyes as she found herself in the situation the other woman had been when they’d arrived at the table. His fingers sprawled through her hair as he talked quietly amongst friends, twirling tendrils between his digits as he got to the ends of it. Every so often the submissive could feel his eyes look down at her, which had her opening her eyes and smiling up at him. The pleased expression he had each and every time had her wondering if he knew what went through her mind. 

If he told her to break up with Danny? She probably would. If he confessed that he had feelings for her, that he wanted her as his real partner, submissive or not, she would release herself from the other relationship she was having major doubts about anyways and go to him. Belong to him seriously.

Even being on her goddamn knees in front of him at a kink club, she felt more appreciated than she ever had. Even when he called her a dirty bitch, a nasty whore, a cockslut, she felt more worshiped and heard and ultimately cared for than she ever had. Harry listened to her. There was never a singular time since they’d started this arrangement that he hadn’t thought about her wants or safety in great detail. He hand fed her fruit he sliced by hand after scenes, brought up juice to her mouth and whispered to her to have sips after he was finished ruining her body. He broke her apart, yeah, but he built her back up again. Even better than he had first found her, if she was being honest. 

Never in her life has she felt as heard, scene, and adored as she did when Harry gave her aftercare. When he texted her through the week to make sure she had a good day. When he asked her her favorite color the first day they met and made sure she had light pink straws in her drinks each and every time. Harry paid attention to her. Not just in scenes, where he seemed to pick apart her every reaction and know just how much she could handle, but last night too. He could feel her upset, did what he could to fix it. Proved yet again that he was the better option of the two.

What was stopping her? 

Fear. Not of Harry, not of Danny, but fear of losing this feeling. She’d end up alone again, wistful for this exact scenario where she knew she couldn’t get it again. No one else would be able to make her feel the way Harry felt in her body and her mind and that was fucking terrifying. Admitting that only to potentially be rejected was worse than staying in a bad relationship. Maybe she was a coward- she knew she was- but she needed his promise. His words. Too many times in her life she had been let down, let her heart hurt and chip and bruise. A rejection from him would shatter her heart and all the work she had put into mending it and the wall she had tried to build up to make her softness toughen up a bit would be inconceivably damaged. 

Times like tonight, meeting his eye and watching him tuck her hair behind her ear as she rubbed her face against his knee, she swore she could see the golden flecks of longing in his eyes too. When they were in bed after their scenes and his arms wrapped around her so he could haul her back into his body, she could feel inklings of something more under her skin. Even when he’d greeted her last night with a kiss in his driveway, a kiss she knew would lead to nothing sexual and just a genuine token of affection, she had felt that something was more with him. And yet she was frozen with fear every time she went to ask him how he felt about her. Terrified that he would reject her and their entire dynamic would be screwed. 

Little did she know, he had the same dilemma.

Watching her nuzzled into him, sitting so fucking perfect and pretty and meeting his eye with those gorgeous fucking smiles, she looked so content with him. Like she was made to be in this exact scenario. He’d never felt more proud of having someone on his arm, and yet she wasn’t actually his. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without spilling those feelings towards her.

His holdback was the fact that she was the one in a relationship. She’d tried to mend things with Danny, but part of his confusion was knowing if she did it because she wanted to or if he had stupidly pushed that by trying to do the right thing about it when she expressed her resentment towards him. All he wanted to do was make the girl happy. It was only a few months of knowing her. He shouldn’t feel this much, so soon. 

Realistically he knew that it was likely because they shared such intimate parts of themselves with one another. This dynamic, lived in even if only on the weekends, was intense and serious and Y/N leaned into every bit of it with an eagerness only matching her nicknames sake. A puppy. So fucking sweet, she’d roll over and show belly if he asked her to right now, but instead she was content with her face on his leg and his hand in her hair. 

His mind wandered to what it could be like if she left the other man. If she walked away and went into his arms, let him show her how he could treat her so much better. What she didn’t know as well was he was still holding back a bit. Emotionally, more so.  

His heart felt like it was in his throat when he grazed his fingers past her cheek, watching her lashes lift off her cheek so she could give him her eyes. “You’re bein’ perfect for me, Pet.” He murmured, watching as she preened. His words always seemed to have a significant effect on her but the girl was slipping into a more submissive state with him here. It was his job to take care of her, to show her the things she’d been missing out on and desperate to experience. “Are you ready to go and watch?” 

“Yes, Sir.” She lifted her cheek from his knee and angled her head back, allowing him to tap his fingers over her chin and get a smile from her. Everything felt more loaded than they could talk about right now, but she was doing exactly what she needed to do. Falling into line so perfectly that Harry really didn’t have much he needed to correct. Pride filled his chest as he let himself smile back at her, nudging her to stand up. 

“Lets go then. Stay with me.”

—-

Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected in this scenario, but she knew there was nothing that would be realistic in her mind that could have prepared her for this night. Walking into the room where the scene had already begun, Harry held the back of her neck and led her towards a loveseat in the back. The throple on stage weren't paying anyone much mind, the room half full as the sounds of a masculine groan filled the air. The stage was lit with two doms and a sub, all beautiful in their own right. 

She stayed quiet as she waited for directions from Harry, eyes on him as he settled himself on the seat. He didn’t speak, instead grabbing her waist and turning her around to sit on his lap. Back against his chest, he spread his legs and hooked one each of her thighs over his own to sprawl her out. The position left her rather exposed too, but the thrill of it caught in her chest as she felt the thick of his cock against her ass and his arm wrapping around her waist. 

“Look at them.” He mumbled, keeping his tone quiet. “Watch.” With his chin against her shoulder, he slid his fingers over her thighs. Up and down, the touch slightly distracted her from the performance going on up the stage. It was becoming very apparent that her devotion to the Dominant was deeper rooted than she’d thought. All this time she’d been anticipating this, but all she could do was think about him and his hands on her. 

“How does it make you feel?” His lips grazed the shell of her ear as he looked towards the show himself. “They make a nice little show, don’t they? Is that something you’ve thought of?” In front of the girl on her knees stood the Domme and other Dominant. The Domme’s hands held a leather leash connected to the collar of the girl, wrapped around her fist as the other hand gripped the submissive’s ponytail to bob her head on the man’s cock. Y/N did her best to pay attention to the performance in front of her, the wet heat between her thighs getting more intense as his fingertips brushed up and down the exposed, vulnerable flesh of her inner thigh. Images of it being them flooded her brain, the barriers breaking as his lips nestled right underneath her ear, puckering just so. 

In her vision, there would be no Domme. The scene would include just him and her, his hand wrapped around the leash tight as a show of ownership. Her collar would be prettier, something more suited to her personally. Maybe a pink leather or more of a chain with a heart charm like she’d seen on one of the other subs at the table, but it would be one he picked out special for her. His fist would have her locks wrapped around it like a secondary leash, using her mouth and showing off just how much she could take. Ideally, it would be after she trained a bit more to take him deeper. She loved the idea of people being able to watch her, to see her take him down her throat. Being able to see how well Harry handled her, how she listened to him, the dynamic between them. Maybe at some point she’d be able to be a bit more bratty and get punished for it- having him fuck her throat as a punishment, or use his hand against her ass. 

“Hm? I asked you a question. Answer me.” He muttered, nipping the delicate skin of her neck. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Can almost hear it from here.” 

Y/N swallowed, leaning further back into him as she tried to unfurl her tongue to tell him. “I-I like it. I’m thinking about us up there, Sir.” Keeping her voice quiet to be respectful to the throuple, she tried to be loud enough for him to hear. It was hard with how shaky her voice felt, his fingers trailing over the edge of her humid panties. It was hard to think straight with him touching her, his scent all over and his mouth on her neck and the sound of the praises from the Domme, the submissive choking slightly on the Dominant’s cock. 

“You are?” He sounded intrigued. “Hm. I think you’d look pretty up there. What part of it is making your poor cunt wet like this?” Fingers tapped against the damp gusset of her panties, teasing with the light touch. It wasn’t enough to make her feel much relief, but the knowledge his hand was there was enough to make her swallow back a whimper. “I know you love my attention, but I’m starting to think you’re a bit more of an attention whore than I thought.” 

The light degrading made her dizzy, the arm around her waist lifting to grip her throat lightly. “Keep talking, Puppy. Quietly.” 

It was hard to keep talking but she tried her best. It was a little unnerving to realize just how much mental power he had over her, but she knew she was safe. Maybe she felt a little pathetic that such light touches had her in a tizzy, but this whole night had been edging, hadn’t it? This was the main event, watching people indulge in the taboo pleasures like it was a theater show while her own Dominant teased her over her panties. “I-I like that she has the collar n’stuff, and people are watching her choke on it.” She whispered out, breathing getting a little harder as he nudged her clit lightly with his thumb. Rhythmic back and forth, just a tiny hint of his touch but it was enough to make her want to buck into it. Harry was making her feel insane, but the entire thing was playing into it. 

Watching them on the stage, knowing other people were around that could see her being spread open and touched like this, the way Harry was hard under her ass, it all had her tummy hot and head fuzzy. “And I like that they’re bein’ a little mean to her. Makin’ fun of her, Sir.” Her tongue felt a bit too big for her mouth as she admitted to those things. The condescending teasing of the Domme to the Submissive each time she failed to take the full length down her throat had sent a zing to her cunt, imagining Harry calling her those names and giving the mean encouragement to get her to do her very best in front of all the other people. 

“Christ, you’re a whore.” Harry laughed incredulously into her neck. “You want to be degraded like that in front of other people? Because… I know for a fact you can’t take all of my dick into that throat. S’a bit too big and as cockhungry as you are, I think you’d be a little embarrassed about not being able to do what you should be able to.” The twinge of shame melted into arousal, his thumb nudging her clit a little harder. Was it a reward?  She didn’t know, but she didn’t want it to stop.“As for the collar…” Fingers uncurled from her waist , moving up to collar her throat. “I think a better one would be better suited for such a slutty puppy. Jus’ didn’t realize you needed to be leashed too.” 

His smallest finger went underneath the necklace that served as a collar for the night, tugging lightly at it. “You’d need to belong t’me properly for that. I don’t collar up just anyone, baby. Is that something you really want?” It was probably not the correct time to dip his toes into the question of a more serious arrangement, but he wanted to hear her answer. 

“Uh-huh. I want it so bad, Daddy. I can be so good for it, I’d love it.” Her whine was a little too loud, a coo leaving his lips as he lightly applied pressure at the sides of her throat to shut her up. The answer, the fucking eagerness of it had his cock twitching against her ass and his heart pumping a bit harder. Maybe it was just a heat of the moment thing, but the vulnerability of the moment had him doubting it was some sort of illusion. 

“Mm. We can discuss that when you’re not so worked up and soaking the pretty panties I got you. You need to keep your voice down, be respectful.” The warning was twofold. He had to table that conversion or he’d get his hopes up far too soon. The slip up of honorifics, though, had been intriguing. “I’m Daddy right now, hm?” 

“Mhm.” She attempted to nod as his fingers lightened their pressure. “Touch me, please. I’m achy.” Squirming slightly in his arms, another squeeze to her throat had her freezing in place before his other hand decided to ease down the waistband of her panties. 

“I don’t know how I feel about you making demands, Pet, but you’re making quite a fucking mess.” His voice dropped, feeling her pulse in his fingertips. “God, you’re gonna cum so fuckin’ quickly. I can feel it.” Y/N was drenched, his thumb finding her slippery clit to rub in light circles. “It’s a little too much for your filthy whore mind, isn’t it? Sitting at my knees, acting like the perfect little submissive for me… Seeing all those pretty people playing, dressed up so nice. And now Daddy’s brought you to a nice little show. You paying attention?” He urged her attention towards the show. “He’s gonna cum on her face, just like I’ve been dying t’do. Or are you more aroused at the knowledge that anyone can look over and see your pussy being pet like a desperate slut?”

Yes, yes, yes. All of the above, check all the boxes. Y/N would beg more if she could find it in her brain to talk, but it felt so good. The light grip at her throat making it slightly harder to breathe, how he was talking hushed into her ear and the vibrations made her feel even more squirmy, his fingers on her cunt, she just felt like she was dreaming. Like this was some sort of high before the ultimate one, looking to the side and catching a few eyes on her. She’d made a tiny bit of noise before, surely making people aware that she wasn’t behaving, but it felt all too real now. 

“And now you’ve gone dumb for me. I need an answer from you, Angel. Need a color before I make you cum.” He nudged her face to the side, lips resting against the corner of her own. “Color?” 

“Green. I’m so good, I-I…” She panted, eyes glazed but looking into his own. They were hooded, dark, and it was obvious in all ways that he was aroused too. He showed more restraint than she did, but he wasn’t unaffected by it all. “Sir…” With little thought to consequences, her own hand came up to the back of his head and pulled him closer so she could press his lips against his. 

Harry didn’t usually kiss in the club. He didn’t like them being seen in that way most of the time, feeling that those were supposed to be shared for more private and intimate moments- but Y/N had a way of making him throw a lot of his prior rules and regulations out the window. Didn’t she? He groaned quietly, licking into her mouth, trying to ignore the hot spark of arousal in his cock her hands tugging his hair closer to her had given him. For a moment, he gave in and enjoyed the taste of her tongue and the uncoordinated mess that was their kiss. He took the moment to slip two fingers into her cunt, curling them into her slick hole to get her to gasp. Hot and tight, he held back another moan at the feeling of her cunt fluttering around the intrusion. It was one of his favorite feelings, her breathing picking up against his mouth. 

The broad hand around her throat tightened again, making her eyes peel open again. Wet mouth illuminated by the red lights around the room, he panted against her open lips. “Remember your fucking place. You want a kiss? You ask. You aren’t in charge. I am.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he fucked his fingers into her. “I’m the one in charge. Not you. I choose if you cum or not, I choose if you get kissed or fuck. Your body is mine to play with. You’d do well to remember that, or you’ll be the next one on that stage.” He grinned maliciously. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I won’t be as nice as I’ve been before.” 

Letting up on the grip, he swallowed her gasp with another kiss. 

It was moments like this that Y/N could see it. She could see this being her life, this being her night out with him. Instead of dingy bars with sports games she didn’t give a singular fuck about, she could be here watching shows and learning, she could have Harry’s fingers deep inside of her, his cock inside of her, whatever he chose, giving her pleasure that was immeasurable to what she’d ever known before. A literal wet dream came true. 

Y/N couldn’t respond, nodding lazily as the slick sound of her cunt being fucked with his fingers slicked up by her arousal became slightly audible. The throuple on stage was the loudest sound in the room, but underneath it all she could hear exactly what he was doing to her. It was humiliating to be this wet, to be this close to orgasm from a few minutes of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, a bit of choking, his whispers against her ear, a few people peering over at them and she loved it. His hand around her throat, keeping her tight to his body, and she felt the most free she’d ever been. 

There was an attempt to warn him, his fingers prodding right at her spot and her legs beginning to tremble as she squirmed slightly on his lap, but he could tell she wouldn’t be able to be quiet. He’d have to force her to be. “Let go. Make a mess on my fingers and be fucking quiet.” The dominant let her take another deep inhale before he returned his fingers to the sides of her neck, applying pressure exactly where she needed it to steal the rest of her breath. 

Y/N could see spots in her vision as she came. If he wasn’t stopping it, she probably would have sobbed out as she shook in his arms. Cumming hard and fast, hips bucking into his hand, his words cooed softly against her ear and brought up chills against her skin as the vibrations added to the sensations that tossed her over the edge. 

“There you go, stay nice and quiet. Cum all over my fingers, you perfect fuckin’ girl.” He coaxed, pressing them against that spot over and over again whilst his thumb rubbed her throbbing clit. She could feel the contractions of her walls around him, a deep breath being taken as he eased up on her throat to make sure she recovered, but he didn’t stop his prodding. “Work through it. People just saw that, yeah? Saw how good you are, amazing and how quiet you can be. Saw how beautiful you are when you cum for me. Such a precious angel.” Little kisses were pressed to her sticky skin, her mind pleasantly fuzzy and a little empty as his words soothed the orgasm that rocked through her body. “There we go, sweet girl. Y’did perfectly. Took your reward so well, yeah? You were made for this.” His praise added another layer of warm, fluffy comfort to the pleasant feeling that coated her body, the words echoing in her brain. All she could think about was how good she had been, how good it had felt. Good, good, good. She was a good girl and Harry was proud of her. “Gonna take you home in a few, baby. Just let you get a good cuddle in first, clean you up and sneak out of here. We’ll come back and you can see our new friends again.” 

This whole thing had pleasured her. Not just the orgasm, but the entire place. Her head had felt calm since she’d settled at Harry’s feet, quickly getting over nerves and settling into that feeling of correctness. Ease. It felt like she belonged here, even with the underlying anxiety. With anyone else but Harry she wasn’t sure if she would have felt that, but it had just been another experience he had made positive for her. Of course he did. He was perfect. 

He’d walked her through it, held her hand, helped her know what to expect but- She’d known she would like this sort of thing. Y/n had always thought about it, but actually experiencing it was a whole other beast. One she wanted to experience again, and again, and again- If Harry would let her.

[shippingmyworld]

Got any 🐯👻 headcannons?

I've got a million, but here's a bunch of ones related to them cuddling/being physically intimate with each other and not just because my next tigerghost fic is a make-out fic

Manny is more clingy than Danny is and usually the one to initiate affection.

Danny is slightly uncomfortable with pda, but also low-key touch-starved.

Manny picks up on this (any honestly any small change with Danny's mood) without being explicitly told so and keeps his hands to himself while they're in public. But because he's clingy by nature, he still does things that can fly under the radar like bumping shoulders, sitting next to each other a little closer than normal friends would, or discreetly reaching out and holding/squeezing Danny's hand when he can do so without being seen by others.

All bets are off when they're hanging around HQ or hanging out with friends. Manny pretty much always has his arms around Danny's waist or is draping himself across Danny in some way like an over affectionate cat. Danny lets him because he feels more comfortable around friends than strangers in public (and again because he's touch-starved and secretly enjoys the contact, but will never admit it openly).

It's a rare occurrence for the others to find Manny and Danny in the same room and more than three feet apart from one another because of how they are.

When they're completely alone (away from friends/family & HQ), Danny becomes just as clingy/touchy as Manny is. He specifically likes to play with Manny's hair and will trace the outlines of Manny's scars with his fingers.

Manny likes the fact that Danny's body temp runs colder (due to his ghost powers/ice core) because it reminds him of one of those self-cooling pillows, so Manny will regularly doze off on Danny whenever they're cuddling.

They fall asleep on the couch more regularly than a bed, mostly because Manny will conk out within minutes of their cuddle sessions and Danny can't bring himself to wake his sleepy tiger.

Typically, Danny is the big spoon when they sleep on the couch (because that way Danny's arms are still free to watch tv/read/play with his phone) and if he has the energy and motivation to wake Manny up and move the both of them to bed, Manny will be the big spoon there. However, neither really has a preference, that's just how it ends up.

Danny has a severe case of insomnia that he's tried to cure countless times. It's a result of a lot of things like generalized stress and anxiety, but a large part of it is his trauma of dealing with Dark Danny/Phantom. He's constantly having an existential crisis about what he would do if he ever ended up in a similar situation. It's partly why he never branched out from Tucker and Sam for his friend group back home, because it opens up him up to the possibility of more loss.

His insomnia isn't miraculously cured once he and Manny get together (like it sometimes is in other romances). Sure, holding Manny while they sleep does help a little bit and it's pretty nice to have someone he loves by his side when he wakes up and falls asleep. But now, Danny spends more of his time on those sleepless nights just taking in everything about Manny's existence. He's spent hours listening to the way that Manny breaths when he sleeps (and snores), observing all the little and subconscious movements Manny makes, just committing everything he can to memory and it makes him feel calmer.

[phantoms-world-and-more]

There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.

One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.

Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.

Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.

Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.

.

[mortumslab]

Remembering to be Human - Chapter 1

Hello! This is the first chapter of an ongoing series where Sidestep (Arya) openly tells Julia she loves her, taking place at Hoots after therapy. This story is to fill the little hole in my heart until Revelations comes out. I expect to essentially write an entire ending for my own Sidestep. If I make some lore errors, please let me know! There will also be an NSFW version on AO3 soon, for now - it will fade to black.

Enjoy!

(TW: suicidal ideas, actions and thoughts - not in super extreme detail but implied. Bodily fluids - not that kind.)

Bonewizard

(p.s. below is an introduction to the villain in question)

-

“It’s times like these that remind me why I love you.” 

Fuck. Did you say that out loud? 

You did. You didn’t mean to, but your guard was down with how raw you felt after your session with Dr. Finch. And Ortega had those classic, warm eyes that always worked before you died.

You’re out of your seat and out the door before you know what’s happening. Hoots was dimly lit, and the sudden sunlight disorients you. You’re around the corner and retching before you know what’s happening, the panic attack at the therapists and your sudden burst of emotions completely overwhelming you. A second panic attack. Shit.

You’re dimly aware of someone holding your hair back - the bright grey, nearly white braid pulled away from your sight as you expunge whatever was left in your stomach. Bile splattering the brickwork.

“Hey, everything’s okay,” a voice says behind you, nearly a whisper and coated in affection. You’re trying to regain your breath, and Ortega rubs your back as you cough up the remaining phlegm.

“I… I didn’t…” But you did. You did mean it. You’ve circled this subject since she found you at the diner, but of course, you were reckless and careless with your emotions. With whatever remained of them, at least. Whatever Heartbreak might have taken from you, this remained. Somehow.

“I love you too… for what it’s worth. I should have told you back then, but I was… I was too worried about what everyone thought. And unsure of what I wanted.” Ortega’s voice sounds like it’s miles away, but yet so crystal clear. 

You turn around slowly, unsteadily, to face her. She’s beautiful in ways you could never properly understand. Wiping the drool from your mouth, the taste of bile heavy upon your lips, you say, “I guess you might not want to kiss me now.” She smiles and kisses your forehead gently, lingering affectionately.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Ortega looks pensive, as though she isn’t sure if you’re sure about what just happened. You’re not sure. Loving her, you’re sure of. But why would you, Heartbreak, the villain? You’re hiding two very dangerous secrets and on the pathway of diverging them all. Heartbreak may not be a killer, and you know you’ve seeded doubt into Danny and Chen’s minds. But you still put half of the team out of commission, and, by definition, you’re still a villain. You still operate outside of the law.

“Yeah… I think… I think that would be okay.” The words tumble out of your mouth. You’d think the Rat King was influencing you if he weren't across town. The little guy seems to get so excited when your thoughts drift to Ortega. Everyone loves Ortega.

The cab ride is silent. Of course, you can’t read what’s on Ortega’s mind. It’s a blessing and a curse. With her, you’re normal. You’re not the alpha-level telepath. You’re just Arya. And ‘Just Arya’ needs to figure out what they will do when the silence ends.

On the one hand, Ortega is going to interrogate you. Gently, obviously, but insistently. Fleeing now would be silly, and Ortega wouldn’t let you. You’ve gone too far with your emotions. Been too open. She wasn’t ever one to quit, and now that you’ve said the magic words, she’d move mountains to reach you. On the other hand, you’re Heartbreak. You shouldn’t need to feel like this. Should you? From the moment you donned the armor, your behavior has mirrored Sidestep’s. True, Heartbreak’s mannerisms let you be more hostile and more flamboyant, but you’re still taking down villains. The museum, however, will be the point of contention. You lost control. You wanted to be stopped. Maybe not consciously, but you’ve spent enough time reflecting to realize this. Perhaps that’s why you’ve gotten so reckless, so bold. Each step in your plan to unseat the powers that be was more dangerous and foolhardy than the last.

You’re running scenarios, and every outcome seems like either your death or arrest. Or worse, remaining unloved. So what will the great Heartbreak do? The great villain, the one rattling the cages of the corrupt system? 

You begin to sob uncontrollably in the back of the cab.

Ortega is holding your hand but seems lost in thought, that is, until you start to sob. Startled, you feel a static shock run through your hand, enough to pull you at least out of an ugly cry. Instead, you’re shaking with tears streaming down your face, ruining what makeup you’d put on this morning. 

"Arya! Hey, it's okay!" She's speaking softly but forcefully. Trying to calm you down without startling you. Worried you'll tuck and roll from the cab as her apartment comes into view. She's not entirely off base, but she's cradling your head, and that would make it difficult to eject yourself. You don't think this is usually how telling someone you love them goes. But this is your first time, after all. 

The cab lets you both out, and the driver gives you both a worried look before peeling off. He likely recognized Ortega and didn't want to stick around for whatever came next. Approaching the front door, your sobs are quieter as memories flood into your mind. Homemade dinners. Secret affairs. Victories won and battles lost, leading Sidestep and Charge to the same locale. It feels like home despite your awareness of how alien you are, how inhuman you feel, how incurably wrong you've become. Evil thoughts plague you again. You told Ortega you loved her and panicked.

You crash onto the couch, dimly aware it's not the same old beater you and she stole kisses on. Breathing more regularly, you look up at Ortega who looks startled by your erratic behavior. But she also looks wistful. Like she can't believe you're here. She sits next to you, sliding as close as she dares as if you're a wild animal, liable to lash out. 

"So..." She starts. 

You turn to look at her slowly; you're aware you look like a raccoon now, the reflection of the T.V. not pulling any punches.

"I died at Heartbreak," you say. Obviously, this is not what she expected you to say, and her knowing smile turns into a worried frown. "And I need to explain why I'm still sitting in your living room." You're not sure what your plan is, and like most things you've done as Heartbreak, you're improvising. Your stoicism and arrogance as Heartbreak crumbles around you. The mask you wear is cracking. Arya's and Heartbreak's alike. 

"And... and I need to tell you what they did to me. What they made me into." You feel angry, not at Ortega but at them. At the Farm, the Directive. For making you break her heart. Maybe now Ortega will do you the service of ending your reign. Of putting you down. You can only hope as that's the best outcome. 

"Arya, I don't understand. Who's 'they?'" She looks confused and worried. You sound like a conspiracy theorist. "And you can't have died, you're right here." She puts a hand behind your head, caressing your slender neck. 

You need to move. Move. Move. Your brain is screaming at you to run, but your heart tells you to spill it all. You never told her this when you were Sidestep because you didn't realize how much you loved her. Maybe you did, but you couldn’t let yourself hope. Couldn’t break the spell. The dam is open now. Every secret will come to light today. 

Jumping up, you get some satisfaction in seeing her startled - maybe it's just that you're keeping some level of mystery or control - perhaps you're just becoming manic. You start to pace the room, and before you can stop yourself, you remove the jacket you're wearing and toss it to the floor. Ortega is looking at you with as much nervous concern in her eyes as she had when Psychopathor fell all those years ago. No, don't get caught in the memories. You stop for a moment, then, looking Ortega directly in the eyes, you strip off the mesh top you always wear. As your heart is now known to Ortega, so are your chest and arms. Only your sports bra remains. 

For a moment, nothing happens. The orange tattoos, marred with the apparent attempts to escape the Farm, and life permanently, are bathed in the light above. 

"I'm not human. That is how I survived." You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to look at Ortega. Waiting for a strike, a bullet, a knife. Anything to end this before you have to suffer further. 

But nothing happens. Well. Nothing like that. You sense movement and jolt slightly as she's standing before you. Ortega lightly caresses your torso, her eyes soft and pensive. Then she cradles your right arm, the one most scarred with your transgressions. She looks at you and asks, "Did you do this to yourself, or did they?" You know she means the scars, not the tattoos. "I did," you answer softly, not meeting her eyes. "Oh, Arya," she says as she throws her arms around you. She kisses her neck and cradles your head as she backs away. She's searching your eyes as if the explanation is there. 

"What did they do to you?" She asks. 

"Please... please sit down." You mumble. She does so without question and sits, her eyes locked on yours.

"You obviously know about Re-Genes. I'm a... a cuckoo. Built to deceive. To lie. To infiltrate. They grew me in a lab, boosted me, subjected me to psychological torture. Part of their process, I guess. It’s supposed to produce telepaths. And for years, I was fed the lies that there was nothing outside the Farm." The words are just spilling out of you. 

"The Farm?" Ortega asks softly; she looks strange - a mixture of anger and fear. Neither of which are directed at you. You may not be able to read her emotions, but you have seen them before. And the target never lasted long. 

"It's somewhere in Nevada." You respond. "It's where they make Re-Genes. Where they made me."

"So... so what happened at Heartbreak?" Ortega asks this as if the name alone will send you into hysterics. You're surprised it doesn't. 

"When I... jumped... I should have died. Cuckoos are equipped with something called a pain gate. it numbs the pain for us. And that, coupled with the Directive being present at the scene, meant no one was going to question why an ambulance suddenly picked me up." You know this is going to be a difficult explanation since so much of it is likely propaganda installed by the Farm. But you do your best.

"When I woke up, I was back. Back at..." you choke back a sob, Ortega makes to get up but you wave her back. "I was back at the Farm. And I knew it was over." You watch Ortega out of your periphery, your eyes locked on the floor. "For 2 years they tortured the truth of Heartbreak out of me. Whatever she did, it broke me. It made me more powerful than the Farm knew and I had enough agency left to fake it." Ortega looks like she's about to interrupt and you cut her off, predicting the question. "Heartbreak was an experiment. I don’t know who created her. But the Farm wanted to know how it affected me. And her power did something to me. And I think it did something to all of us. But as a telepath, I was empowered... kind of. The Farm wanted to know more. The telepath gave me enhancements and powers that I didn't have before. At the cost of my emotions."

"What do you mean?" Ortega looks enraptured. 

"I thought I needed to sacrifice something to escape her. Being a Re-Gene, the only viable option felt like the emotional need to keep living.” You stifle a manic laugh, it sounds hollow. “I’m not even real anyway.”

"You are. You're real. You're Arya... I..."

"No," you're angry. Not at her, not really. "I am a lab-grown freak. My life was always forfeit. And when I saw into Heartbreak’s mind what they did to her, I knew it was my fate.” This was true. You'd always felt like you weren't in control. “And then they left me to rot. To shut down. But I didn’t. I held on. And, after enough time, I escaped.” You say this so quietly. Because you know this is where you believed you were forsaken. Forgotten. Unloved.

And this leads you to your second truth. The one that's going to hurt the most.

"Ortega, they broke me." You hear the pleading in your voice. "They stripped me of whatever dignity I had left and rebuilt me. Took parts of my memories, stripped what they needed and filled the remainder with lies." 

You know they were lies now. Ortega reached for you. Chen looked for you. The Farm lied to you. 

"And I need you to understand that I only ever wanted them to face justice.” You’re afraid. This truth is going to get you killed. “I couldn’t let them get away with this. Not again. Not after…” You falter.

“You’re Heartbreak, aren’t you?” Ortega doesn’t look away.

If your brain were any more of a computer than it already is, it might have buffered. 

“I… am. And I don’t regret the actions I’ve taken, but I do regret not telling you sooner.” That is true. Though you might never have told her had today not already been an emotional disaster. 

Ortega is silent. She is looking at you, but you don’t notice. You’re on your knees now. Sobbing silently as you expect her to kill you. Kill you for embarrassing the Rangers, for upsetting the status quo, for being in love. 

“I’m sorry for the lies. For hurting you. For hurting all of you. For being less than human and tricking you into falling in love with me. I think the Farm… I think they altered my memories.” Your eyes are still closed, head bowed. “They made me believe you’d stopped caring. I was so angry. I felt so betrayed. It wasn’t until I’d already… until I’d already become Heartbreak. Then I realized how wrong I was.” You were wrong about them, your friends. But you weren’t wrong about your cause.

“I expected to be stopped, to be killed.” You continue before Ortega can do or say anything, though you feel her - not her thoughts but the ozone. The burning taste was familiar, the one she had before every battle. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel directed at you. “I regret hurting the Ranger, but I don’t regret what I’ve done since,” this time, you do look up, and you falter as Ortega is kneeling in front of you. She’s so quiet for such a large woman. “I won’t stop. Not until I’m killed.” 

Heartbreak hasn’t killed anyone. You’d never permanently hurt any other heroes besides the Rangers and Handyman. Unfortunately, they'd gotten in the way but you dealt with them as humanely as you could. Even Blaze. Though you hardly hurt him and really, you had seen a way out. Though that backfired. The money you’d stolen from Umbral had gone to charity, and despite you doing so anonymously, your name was still attached to it. News outlets had postulated you were simply a vigilante, an anti-hero. You know vigilantes don’t attack other heroes, though. 

“I can’t go back.” Your eyes are closed again, tight. “If you’re going to bring me in, please just kill me. Bring Steel if you can’t. The Farm will get me again if you don’t and I would rather die. They can’t take me again… they can’t… I can’t…” The tears. You won’t let the Directive take you again. The thought it almost too overwhelming.

Falling.

Falling. Dying. Revived.

Tubes. Green. Terror. Torture.

Shaved head. Indecent. Exposed. Petrified.

You don’t have control. You’re out of control. They’re in contr—

Then there’s pressure on your lips. Hard. The heat breaks you from your panic.

Ortega is kissing you as though you’re her lifeline. Confusion races through your mind. She’s supposed to be angry. To hate you. To fear you. You broke her shoulder, you bruised her heart. You nearly killed her. 

You break from the kiss prematurely, spluttering, “Wait, Julia, I don’t…” You never call her Julia… what’s just happened?

“I knew something was wrong.” She speaks for the first time in what feels like hours. “I read Ochoa’s article, and you called Heartbreak your origin story. Only one person returned from Heartbreak.” I’m not a person, you think, but you’re not going to interrupt this time. “And she seemed to come to the same conclusion. Someone who knew the truth was enacting justice. Vengeance, maybe. But righteous, nonetheless.” She pauses, looking at you with those brown, beautiful eyes.

“And I was following the threads. Heartbreak, the person, wasn’t doing serious damage to innocents or heroes. They were just causing the right amount of trouble. I was even wondering if you were even a villain at all. Chen expressed the same. Danny, well, Danny was hurt badly during the gala.” You look down in shame. 

Danny’s scream has haunted you for months. Herald didn’t deserve that. “But then you started to train him, and we watched your sessions. More for education than anything else. And Chen and I wondered where we’d seen that style before. We realized we hadn’t seen it since Sidestep… and I’d seen it at the gala. The false pretense of precognition, the misdirection. You knew everything before it happened and were controlling the battle.”

“Then why let me continue?” You’re confused now, well, even more confused. You’d been as careful as you could be, but you knew the charade would end eventually. 

“Because you were doing a good job… you alerted the media to Devereaux, to Carter. The District Attorney was following your leads.” She smiles softly. Oh fuck, she’s proud of you. She idolizes you. This was not the expected response.

You’re on your feet suddenly, pacing again. This doesn’t make any sense. She’s supposed to hate you. To hate your skin, your flesh, your ideals, your actions. Why? Why doesn’t she? 

“Why don’t you hate me?” The question sounds weird, but then you realize you said it out loud. 

“At first I feared Heartbreak. They—you reminded me of regrets. Of mysteries left unsolved. Chen had looked for you. He never told me if he found anything. But when you’d told me the people I worked for were the villains, you seemed so genuine. Even though you’d just beaten me silly,” she laughs softly, massaging the shoulder you’d dislocated. “My idiot self started to think about what you’d said. I usually don’t listen to the villain monologues, but with your name, it was hard not to. Your anger didn’t make sense, not until now, though.” She traces your tattoos with her eyes. She knew Heartbreak was hurting but didn’t know why.  

“Is that why you never confronted me again?” You’d wondered why Ortega, of all the Rangers, never attacked you. Even Lady Argent had. And she seemed to do it out of enjoyment, rather than justice.

“Partially, Chen and Argent wanted to test you further. To some degree, they wanted to see if you were a villain or a future ally. Especially since you’d broken every expectation. The bomb that went off at Carter’s was the first clue. You helped Chen rescue over a dozen civilians. Without question. Then the money? Villains don’t donate to charities. And they don’t do it anonymously. Your actions with the DA? Unheard of. All without a casualty. Better than can be said for the Rangers.” Bitterness. She’s been doubting the sanctity of the Rangers for awhile.

“So… what are you going to do?” You’re confused and scared. She can tell. She can see you shivering. It’s not cold, it’s adrenaline and fear. 

“What I should have done ten years ago.” She stands up, and before you can sidestep, she has you in her arms. The kiss is soft and tender at first. It deepens as you relax. Then she breaks away.

“I love you, Arya.” She says it with such passion you can’t help but believe it this time. It’s all laid bare. She knows you now. She might not know all the horrors you’ve endured, but she’s seen your secrets and hasn’t recoiled. “And I think we can talk shop after I show you just how human you are.” She lifts you easily into your arms. Holding you like a bride. You just go limp because otherwise, you might end up on your ass. 

Fade to black - this is private (or on AO3)

[kcuf-ad]

Kenneth and Julius ->

💕: Who confessed first and how? Did it go as planned or did shenanigans ensue?

🦋: How long did it take them to get out of the awkward early relationship stage? Have they gotten more confident around each other?

Raku ->

❤️‍🔥: Who tends to take the lead with showing affection?

😑: How easily do they get jealous and how do they handle it?

🌙: Who has to force the other into having healthy sleeping habits? How well does that go for em?

Danny and Rill ->

🗣️: Who’s the one that will ramble on about their highly specific interest while the other just sits back and nods along?

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

Aye, aye Captain! I got this

Ever heard of he fell first, but he fell harder? That is basically Juliken. Julius fell first after a few weeks, it took Kenneth a couple of months and it hit him like a truck. Here is the thing, it was a regular Captains Meeting, in which he is allowed to be a part of it, and once it was over Julius wanted to talk to him, and once he confessed his feelings, Kenneth mentally did a backflip, but tried to act nonchallant. (It failed). Dude was blushing. It took them around a week to get around the awkwardness, but overall, both are confident each other as always.

I think it is safer to say that Rook is the more affectionate one. You told me that Haku was quiet as hell and had Gordon as her friend, lets be real, she probably looked like a tomato when they are holding hands. I feel like Haku is the one getting jelaousy, but not like something normally expect, but something that she also admires and that is the confidence he has. Both have awful sleep schedules. One works with a maniac while the other writes in a journal till she falls asleep.

Danny x Rill? Both are talktative about their Dreams and they openly express them, tho Rill shows more than him as he is more of a talkative guy. Danny is talkative, but not like Rill. I do see them owning a dog, not sure of the breed, but my goodness the dog is not letting of them do their jobs, which they can not be mad at since they adorable.

Thanks for the ask, Aarii! I needed this for today.

[merv606]

Terry is so affectionate with Daniel in that (forced) restrained way of his. I can only imagine once things improve how incredibly openly affectionate and cuddly and kissy he’s going to be with Daniel lol. Poor Danny is barely going to get a moments peace with Terry constantly loving on him. It’s often mentioned how Daniel has been so starved for affection and love these past months upon months, but Terry has been starved for affection and love for pretty much his entire life. My giant evil man is so desperately lonely and craving love—I hope he gets it 🥰

☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻

[rubbish78]

The reason I am falling in love with the band McFly again….is because of their friendship and love for each other.

It shines through interviews or whenever they talk about each other. Their bond as a band is so fucking endearing and pure like it genuinely makes me tear up.

Lol not the music? If I’m being honest when I initially got into McFly (for me back in highschool 2006-2010) was because I found them all cute af. Along with British accents and them being so funny and silly in their interviews, I was instantly hooked.

Music was just a bonus to me anyways tbh lol

They seemed like best friends and were openly affectionate with each other even if it was seen as “gay” by ppl. It was lovely to watch and see what peak male friendship was like.

McFly members: Tom Fletcher, Danny Jones, Harry Judd and Dougie Poynter were strangers when they meet each other in 2003.

It was not a group of friends making a band with each other and then got big, no, it was a label was trying to make a British boyband. Auditions were held (interesting story how each of them initially got in but I don’t feel like writing it) and the label had them live with each other in one house.

Dougie being the youngest at 15 years old and Tom being the oldest at 18 years old… it could have been a totally disaster with the clash of personalities and teenager antics but somehow they all clicked with each other and became not only solid well-working bandmates, but best friends as well. Which, I think is a very rare thing to happen, especially as the band was formed to make money initially.

20 years has gone by now and McFly are closer than ever, always supporting each other publicly with whatever projects they took on individually.

So much change and rough patches have occurred between them over the years yet today they somehow they all remained close friends.

You can really feel how much they care about each other by their interactions and through the music….

…and I think that’s beautiful 🥲

[msfbgraves]

(They may be a little embarassed about their Daddy always being so hot for their Mama and not afraid to show it, even outside of heats. He could be a little more discreet, but he is a Mob boss, are you gonna tell him?) 

Finally! Proof that Terry Silver is the world’s most embarrassing parent. And spouse. Seriously Terry, NO puppy wants to know how horny 24/7 you are for their Mama. That’s for the bedroom, or whatever other little moments during the day you can sneak in away from prying eyes. I suppose Terry thinks nothing of his behavior, lmao. Like, the man is so Extra—this is him being restrained! Really!!

Anyway, I am under the impression that if Daniel had let him, Terry would have gladly gotten him pregnant with 10 more puppies. 

But a question: (not afraid to show it, even outside of heats.) Are Alphas typically only openly affectionate or ‘cuddly’ with their omegas during Heat time? Are they much more reserved and restrained otherwise, and Terry just the lovey-dovy weirdo? Because when they’re not fighting, I’m actually picturing  Terry and Daniel to both be pretty affectionate and loving on each other since they’re both such tactile people—maybe much to the mortification of their puppies. 

Someone like, let’s say Kreese I can see being deeply reserved in his affection towards Betsy, and keeping that sort of thing very private due to his introverted nature, even if she had been an omega. Even the Don I see as more restrained, but perhaps that’s because his wife is a beta? Maybe Daniel being an omega brings out even more of Alpha Terry’s psycho side 😂 

I suppose it’s nice to know you’re always desired—maybe too much so 🤣 

Too much for whom? Nonnie, imagine the alternative - what if your parents were never affectionate with one another? I've mentioned it in passing, but after his sister died, Terry's Mammy did not want any more children; a wish his Daddy respected but how do you think they prevented that? Birth control? Who has that kind of money? They mostly avoided intimacy. Good times in the Silver house. No! They are married and mated and there is nothing to be ashamed of. The puppies only start finding it mortifying when it reminds them of the sex they're not quite ready to have yet, but growing into. So, there's a lot of horny Silver teenagers blushing and taking quite long showers. Let them! Falling in love? Let them! Having agonised confessions? Let them! Daddy will love and hug Mama whenever they both want and when his pups understand why he comes home in the middle of the day sometimes and sends them all out, or why Mama sometimes goes to visit him at the Stallion? Not his problem. Don't disturb Mama and Daddy without say so when they're in their bedroom, it's that simple. He lets his kids have their space when the door is closed. "Robby, downstairs in ten minutes."

And yes, Terry shows the same frenzy most Alphas show only during heats at other times too. The Don is much more reserved by nature, as is John Kreese; that's who they are whoever their mate is.

But no. Terry loves his mate, in every sense of the word, as long as Danny is OK with it. Anyone who has a problem with that can fight him.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey Tory! I'm curious what would Jacko think of Danny's hugs?

Jacko is a little funny about public displays of affection. He's really quite openly affectionate in the sense of showering people with compliments, clapping his friends on the shoulder or back, and shaking hands (for men) and kissing hands (for ladies). When it comes to actual hugs, kisses, etc., though, even with his own family, Jackson suddenly becomes incredibly image-conscious. This is largely thanks to his toxically masculine father, John Eglinton, who definitely suspected Jackson might be a "nancy boy" and tried very hard to beat it out of his son however he could. Jackson's fear of hospitals -- places where, in the Victorian period, "mad" people were frequently locked up and mistreated -- also partially stems from this, since Eglinton expressed the belief that "such people" were both criminal and sick in the head. Bloody prat. This makes it so that Jackson has trouble expressing anything too intimate or even tender in public and will only do it when there's some small sense of privacy for himself and the other person. When he's alone with that person he trusts, though, and they're able to share a real embrace or he's able to fix someone's tie or hair, Jackson adores every minute of it, because truthfully he is very starved for love and praise, and he loves partaking in it with those people he cares about and feels comfortable showing that part of himself with.

[sliphole]

I really wish fans of Danny Elfman would keep in mind that he is a Jewish man. I’ve seen far too many posts and tags on candid and completely innocuous photos of Danny calling him evil and creepy looking and, let’s be honest, it’s because his features are distinctly Jewish. And I think people think they are saying these things affectionately because Danny has a reputation for being dark and macabre and spooky, yes, we all know this. He speaks especially to outcasts and weirdos and horror fans who relate to him. But his work is also closely tied to his Jewishness and always has been, and he’s played it for shock value and satire as well as genuinely and completely straight. It’s obvious if you try to understand his work past the surface level that he is very much aware of his heritage and how he is perceived because of it.

He’s played the Devil in sleazy roles in the ‘70s and ‘80s because of his Jewishness. He wrote Insanity in the ‘90s. He’s talked openly in interviews about the fear and dread he’s felt concerning the Trump administration and the rise of fascist America and antisemitism, which a good portion of Big Mess was dedicated to venting about. Hell, he’s even talked about how he relates to Jack Skellington so closely because he also couldn’t have Christmas. All that to say I don’t understand why or how with Danny in particular fans completely forget or ignore this aspect of him just to point at a photo of him smiling with a fan and say he looks like the Devil.

Im saying all this as someone who is not Jewish, which I think is important to note and I would love if someone who is Jewish could steer this conversation, but I’ve also never seen anyone bring this up. It’s just that seeing others continue to perpetuate these stereotypes with Danny with no self-awareness has always rubbed me the wrong way and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

[starry-bi-sky]

"I suppose it was too much to expect for you two to get along." Danny sighs after Cass gets down, not even bothering to hide his smile while he and Dick Grayson both share exasperated glances. The other Waynes were nodding along, Jason Todd snickering under his breath.

His view of Grayson is obscured shortly after with the upside down face of Damian, who was looking at him rather deadpan-like. "Not everyone is Eleanor and you. You two are-" Damian pauses, frowning, his nose scrunching when he can't remember an english word, "are- are weird. 'Ant alqiam almutatarifa."

Danny thinks for a moment, trying to translate in his head. "We're outliers?"

"Naeam. You are outliers." Damian nods, and for a moment preens. "Your arabic is better."

Danny hums, smiling, "Why thank you." And loosens a hand from Damian's ankles to run his fingers through his hair. It's gotten all shaggy and curly, nearly covering his neck. "Your hair's getting long, do you want me to cut it later?"

Damian snaps his teeth at Danny's hand, but his mouth goes nowhere near his skin and his jaw shuts with a clack. "You are changing the subject," he points out, and Danny smiles cheekily, "but no. I don't want to."

"No?"

"No." Damian sniffs, and swings himself back upwards. Danny looks up to see him pushing his hair out of his face, and then throw the older Damian a scathing glance, whose hair was noticeably short. "I don't want to look like him."

Older Damian, in response, scowls at him. "I don't want you to look like me either." He says petulantly. Dick looks down and mutters something to him, patting his chest scoldingly.

Danny snorts, "Alright, we won't cut it. I'm sure Jazz has some hair ties lying around if it starts getting in your face." Damian puffs his chest out proudly.

"Are you learning arabic, Danny?" Someone says, and Danny looks to see Stephanie Brown staring at him curiously. In fact, all of the Waynes were looking at him, various levels of interest on their face.

He blinks, then nods. "Oh, yeah," he shuffles Damian's weight on his shoulders before lifting him up and off onto the floor. "Started learning it when Damian started living with us."

"Laeazir is a very fast learner," Damian states smugly, pressing into his leg. That smugness fades away quickly as he looks up and gives Danny a stink eye. "But your accent is terrible."

With a serene smile, Danny puts a hand on the top of Damian's head and ruffles his palm down hard. Pushing his little brat's head down and messing up his hair. "I will string you up by your toes, ursido."

-----

Dami² having a "my brother is cooler than you" fight is adorable as hell and totally in line for baby Dami to do. He'd probably be the one who starts the fight, the little brat (affectionate). He'd look his older counterpart in the eyes and say "my big brother is cooler than yours". And older Damian wouldn't take that slander towards Dick lying down.

Although bby Damian had to keep many of Danny's "cool points" to himself during that argument, he doubled down on the stuff he could say. He's at the age where he understands the importance of a secret and how to keep it to himself, but just young enough that he'll absolutely spill the beans if it gives him the one up on someone else. Danny's the only exception to that.

Danny and Damian are so very openly affectionate. Danny has a plethora of nicknames for him (Dames, little brother - curtesy of Jazz, ursido which is bear cub in esperanto, he learns najma which is star in arabic, etc. @/glassy-red in the tags had a MASSIVE brain and suggested 'koalo' which is koala in esperanto and its cute as fuck) and vice versa (Damian usually sticks with Danny or laeazir.). They're also very physically affectionate. Danny will throw Damian over his shoulder in full view of the Waynes once they're both comfortable enough.

I'm just picturing them all moving to the living room and Danny's sitting in a chair or the sofa talking to some of the other Waynes while Damian is behind him, and bby Damian comes up and starts talking smack at him.

Danny turns to look at him and says "I'll leap over this couch and get you."

Lil' Damian stifles a smile, but he's already backing away from the couch. "no you wont"

Danny raises a singular eyebrow, smiling, "No?" and then vaults over the back like an olympic hurdler.

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

Continuing on the vein of Danny having crushes on red vigilantes there's no way Danny wouldn't have a bit of a crush on red hood.

that would be funny honestly. i've seen a few different angles on danny's relationship with jason. they've both died, one is considerably more murdery than the other. they're chaotic. i'm pretty used to seeing them as either brothers (affectionate) or brothers (antagonistic) or chaotic besties or hate each other like cats and dogs. i don't think i've really seen the scenereo where they date/ have crushes. then again there is a significant age difference unless we age danny up.

personally i've always been partial to chaos. so my boys vibing and making death jokes is the mood. i don't think danny could abide the murder though. if anything that would lead to him being openly antagonistic towards jason and jason being fond of the obnoxious little fucker. danny just being openly sarcastic and mean towards jason somehow equals a decent kid in jason's book. no romantic overtones needed.

i somehow can also imagine the media pairing the two as a villain team even though phantom is fully trying to do good. jason would find that kinda annoying, but danny would be fully offended.

i guess to get to the point where danny has a crush on jason it would be a full circle kind of moment. where we have danny initially hate jason, jason takes that well and affectionately big bros danny. danny initially is creeped out but eventually recognizes it as genuine affection and then has no idea what to do with that. because lets be honest danny doesn't have a lot of role models or cool adults to look up to. he has clockwork, frostbite, pandora, and maybe lancer. jazz doesn't count because sibling bound. so jason being kinda cool older brother who thinks he's funny and doesn't try to shoot him on sight? that's pretty nice. maybe nice enough to lead to confusing feelings

granted, danny will never admit having a crush and hardly even acknowledges having these feelings to himself. everyone around them who notices though finds the situation hilarious, especially jason. - Hestia

[scuttle-buttle]

How would the Danny buntch react to a genderfluid s/o.

My pearnts don't except me and I am dating a girl and I am more female presenting

Full offense your parents are dumb and I don't like them, I don't make the rules sorry 😒😡 I am your mother now.

_

For starters they obviously love you and think you're beautiful for who you are if you're their significant other. They would put in the effort to educate themselves on the issues/topic in general. I think the actual way they'd go about it would differ tho-

Those like Zemo, Laszlo, and Schmidt would of course be all over learning about gender theory and proper etiquette and history regarding genderfluidity. If someone did something rude or offensive to you best believe they would go into a whole lesson to the person about how they are incorrect and ignorant, they would absolutely defend you (if you're okay with them doing that). They would be on board right away to respect your gender and pronouns and how you are feeling about things.

Alex and Andrea would be more inclined to have you explain things to them rather than hit up the internet and libraries. They would trust you to tell them what you want them to know about everything. It might take a little bit of time to fully understand stuff, but not for lack of trying. These two would try so hard for you, and they will get it. They just want you to be happy no matter what.

Niki. That man would just be like "what". You'd give an explanation of genderfluidity and how you are genderfluid. And he'd be like "oh okay cool". He's the type to shrug and seem like he doesn't give two shits, but he's of course fine with it and uses your correct pronouns right away. He not necessarily an openly affectionate guy, but I think he would go little gestures that reaffirm that he loves and accepts you. Also if someone did something offensive towards you he would scoff and essentially talk to them like they were stupid assholes before walking away. Defends you fully, but doesn't strike me as the type to educate like Z,L, and S would.

As a whole tho, they would all put communication at the forefront all the time, wanting to know if they can use certain phrases with you that day, or which pronouns you're using, how you're feeling about certain things, etc. They would do everything they could to make you feel comfortable and cherished for who you are. Some like Alex and Andrea might be a bit more shy about it whereas Niki might be super blunt, but it's all to make sure they are treating you like the diety you are in their eyes.

_

(I hope this is what you were looking for, I've never had an ask like this including GF and do I really hope that what I've said is okay and properly done - if not please let me know so that I may continue to educate myself!)

[archadianskies]

croissant aux amandes

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@dbhrarepairs​ Saturday Day 6: Meet the Family •  Reverse AU; Mob AU RK900/Simon

Ronan supposes he should be thankful his mother is keeping this particular meeting just between them. He’d rather be uncomfortable in private than openly humiliated though he thinks there’s a degree of humiliation regardless.

“We could do with a connection to the DPD,” Amanda swipes up on her tablet and the screen fills with a detailed profile. “Gavin Reed, former detective, freshly made Lieutenant as of two months ago. Negligible age gap, questionable morals but gets the job done. He likes cats, which is in your favour.”

“With all due respect, mother,” Ronan makes a face, “I’d rather be disowned.”

“Duly noted,” she nods, swiping a new profile onto the screen. “David Allen is your senior by thirteen years, Captain of SWAT Unit 32 and wields immense influence. His team is loyal to him, and he is known to be a kind, honorable man. He likes dogs which isn’t to your favour, though he is not against cats.”

Ronan studies the profile for a few moments- it wouldn’t be a bad match but it still didn’t feel right. “Perhaps in another life?”

“I will put Captain Allen as a ‘maybe’,” Amanda notes. “If not the DPD, then we could accept Carl Manfred’s offer.” The screen populates with a new profile, lengthier and more detailed. “Markus Manfred is an excellent candidate: no age gap, powerful family, powerful connections. Kind, thoughtful, charitable, and very well educated. Not sure where he stands about cats, but he’d be cordial about it I’m sure.”

“I find the older brother far more tolerable company,” Ronan scoffs, turning away.

“Leo?” Amanda says incredulously. “Leo Manfred has nothing to offer, that son squandered his inheritance and spent half a decade high on red ice, disgracing his family.”

“He’s gotten clean and is redeeming himself. He’d be a far better companion than his pretentious, insufferable -”

“Enough,” his mother commands, and Ronan cuts himself off. “There is of course Elijah Kamski, since he is unmarried and of similar age to his cousin Reed. We already have the Kamski connection through your brother, though.”

He tries again. “Are they the only options?”

“They are the best options we have researched,” Amanda turns the screen off. “There are female candidates as a backup but you said you prefer men so these are the male candidates. The gender is of course irrelevant; your fiance must be the one who brings the most to the table.”

“Mother,” Ronan sighs miserably, and Amanda sits beside him. She rests her hand over his, and knowing she is not an overly physically affectionate person only makes the gesture more meaningful. 

“You have submitted no candidates yourself, Ronan, these men are just the ones my team have found,” she reminds him carefully. “I want you to be happy with your choice, whether it be genuine affection, or an amicable arrangement like your brother.”

He knows it could be worse. He knows she could force an arrangement and there would be nothing he could do about it. The Stern family controls this city and it isn’t out of character for his mother to want an advantageous match now he’s turned thirty and declared no intentions to marry yet. It is a kindness, doing all this for him when he has been dragging his feet the past year, knowing this was to come. 

“I can postpone the luncheon, if you would like more time,” she says gently, squeezing his hand. 

“I’ll have an answer by then, I promise,” Ronan vows, because he does not want to disappoint her and delaying it will only prolong this particular brand of suffering. 

 *

Connor finds him under his favourite tree by the pond, and Ronan scoots over to make room on the blanket.

“That bad huh?” His older brother teases, though his smile is apologetic.

“It wasn’t...bad,” he concedes with a wince, “just awkward. And uncomfortable. She suggested Reed at the DPD.”

“Oh, yikes!” Connor laughs and Ronan manages a brief smile. His expression softens as he shifts to wrap an arm around Ronan’s shoulders. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be The One, you know? I don’t- I’m not... inclined romantically or sexually. Chloe is a wonderful friend, and I treasure her company. Our marriage provides her power and influence and security, and safety to nurture her relationship with North under the guise of a bodyguard.”

“You are...happy?” Ronan asks curiously, and Connor smiles.

“I’m very happy,” he nods. “It might not be romantic love, but there’s love in our friendship. You can have that too, brother, if you want.”

 *

It’s a lot to think about. It’s too much to think about, really, and so after too many hours of being stuck in his own head, Ronan escapes to his favourite spot in the whole city: Jericho. 

The cafe is somehow in the heart of town but so hidden it feels like stepping into an entirely different world, and he’s been escaping to its bare brick walls and cosy interior for years now. It’s owned by the Lambert twins, Daniel and Simon. Though the older twin is abrasive and curt, the younger is shy and gentle and always has time for Ronan.

“You look like you’ve had quite the day,” Simon laughs, already reaching for a mug and starting to make him coffee. “Take a seat, I saved an almond croissant for you.”

“You’re an angel, thank you,” Ronan takes the corner booth and watches as Simon goes through the familiar, well practiced motions. It’s close to closing and there’s only one other patron, so Simon decides to sit opposite him with his own mug of coffee.

“What’s got you looking like you’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders, hm?” The blond prods, and Ronan delays answering in favour of sipping the perfectly brewed mug of coffee in his hands. 

“My mother was being a little...overbearing this morning,” Ronan says hesitantly, leaving out the big details. “With the best of intentions, of course. She means well, but I still feel like I’m being slowly backed into a corner.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that, it must be difficult,” Simon frowns empathetically, earnestly, because he is a good and kind friend. Ronan thinks if he weren’t the son of a crime family, he would marry Simon. 

They would have a soft, quiet life full of love and be entirely uneventful and Ronan would manage the business side of things for the cafe so Simon would never have to worry. Maybe they could adopt a cat or two. He wouldn’t even mind a dog, honestly. He’s partial to german shepherds. 

But that’s never going to happen, and it’s with a sinking feeling Ronan realises once he marries he may have to cut ties with Simon completely as he takes on more and more of their family’s work in the criminal underworld. 

“I… am to be married,” he says no louder than a whisper but Simon hears it, Simon’s lovely blue eyes widen at those words. “Well, in the future I mean. My mother is trying to matchmake me with- with certain friends’ sons.”

“In 2038?” Simon asks in disbelief. “Your mother is trying to matchmake you in the year 2038?”

“She means well,” Ronan repeats, sighing tiredly. “She just wants me to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.” He echoes her words with the same regal air and Simon laughs though not unkindly.

“Sounds intense.”

“I have a luncheon next weekend with all of our extended family and friends, and she expects me to announce an answer then.” He picks at the almond croissant, and it’s as perfect as always- buttery, flaky and fresh. The layers are light, the almond slivers paper thin, and the sweetness just right. It feels like a last supper, knowing he probably won’t be able to return. He’d never want to drag Simon into his world of blood. 

 *~*

Danny arrives in time to help him sweep and mop up. His brother is a warm, comforting presence in his peripheral, and Simon soaks it up like warmth from a blanket.

“Saw one of those supervillain black cars the Sterns use on the way here, was it Ronan again?” Danny asks as they’re putting the mops away. “You know he’s getting engaged next weekend, right?”

“How did you know that?” Simon blinks in surprise as he hangs up his apron.

“Leo told me,” Danny shrugs. “The old man said he’s pushing for Markus to marry him.”

“Oh,” Simon tries not to sound so disappointed, and he’s not even sure what for- that Markus is to be married, or that Ronan is the one marrying him. 

“Yeah, I know right? Ugh, gross,” his twin makes a disgusted face. “Poor Ronan, imagine having to marry Mr Perfect and run the criminal underworld.”

“They’re a respectable family!” Simon argues, feeling a twinge of indignant anger on Ronan’s behalf. “The Sterns have transformed the educational landscape of the city- Kara was able to open a kindergarten because of their philanthropy! Imagine having that influence- I’d- I’d completely revamp child services and open shelters and proper mental health centers for abused children and adolescents. I’d make sure no one ever had to go through what we went through.”

“You sweet sweet child,” Danny snorts back a laugh, though it isn’t mocking in the least. “They’re a necessary evil for this city because the senator is an incompetent but dangerous fuckwit. Don’t get me wrong, I like them- they get things done. It’s just the thought of the Manfreds joining that circle that gives me bad indigestion.”

“Markus Manfred is- he’s an amazing man, Danny. Ronan and he would be perfectly matched,” Simon chews his lip, feeling his chest ache. “He certainly would bring the most to the table.”

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just something Ronan said,” Simon flashes an apologetic smile. “He said he has to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.”

“Brings the most to the table ,” Danny repeats, stressing the start and end of the sentence. Simon looks at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think-”

“Oh I do think,” his brother’s grin falters slightly, “But only if you want to, Simon. It’s a pretty crazy idea and uh, we might mysteriously disappear only for our bodies to be found in an underpass somewhere in a couple of weeks.”

It’s a ridiculously crazy idea, Simon knows this for a fact, but it’s so crazy it might just work.

* 

The Stern estate is beautiful, even from the other side of the huge wrought-iron gates. 

“You boys must be lost,” a guard drawls, sauntering over to the driver’s side. “Best you head back down the driveway and forget you ever came this way.”

“We're catering for the luncheon you dumbass,” Danny rolls his eyes. “So best you step aside and let us through so we can set up.”

The guard falters, frowning heavily. “There’s no mention of-” he looks at the side of the delivery van, “Jericho Cafe on the guest list.”

“Because we’re not guests,” Simon tries to mimic Danny’s impatient, snappy tone. “We’re catering for the guests.”

“Hey, listen, honest mistake,” Danny shakes his head. “No harm done. Let us in and we’ll do our job and you can do yours.”

“I-I’ll run it by the boss,” the guard fumbles for his phone.

“Ask Ronan,” Simon says firmly. “He’s the one who booked us, not- not the boss.”

The stretch of time as they wait for an answer feels like an eternity, like Simon is awaiting sentencing where the outcome could very well be execution. Is he signing his own hit? Is dragging his twin into this the worst mistake of his life?

“Alright, sorry about that,” the guard apologises, pocketing his phone and waving at someone up ahead. The gates part, and Simon doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more fear. “Go on through, the service entrance is on the right-hand side.”

“Thanks buddy,” Danny salutes lazily before driving through the now opened gates. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Danny-”

“No, shut up, we’re doing this. He ran it by Ronan and Ronan okayed us to come through,” Danny exhales slowly as he brings the van to the service entrance. A couple of confused kitchen staff come out to see them. 

“Alright,” Simon swallows thickly. “We’re doing this.”

* 

They unload and designate whole delivery trays laden with baked goods to be carried by the staff. Simon leads the way, trying to will his hands not to shake as he carries the feast he and Danny spent all yesterday prepping for, and all this morning from the crack of dawn baking so it would be as fresh as fresh can be for this very moment. 

He enters the dining room and there is Amanda Stern, matriarch of the Stern family. There is Ronan Stern, handsome as can be in a sharp tailored suit, and beside him are a couple- his brother Connor Stern, given the resemblance, and a lovely blonde lady in a periwinkle blue dress.

“Simon-”

“Madam, I have come to ask for your son’s hand in marriage,” Simon commends his voice for not trembling as he sets down the tray on the long dining table. Behind him, Daniel places his tray down and soon the staff follow, more and more until the table is absolutely brimming with food. “This is what I bring to the table.”

Amanda looks at him, expression unreadable and Simon thinks oh, he’s absolutely about to be executed. “You’re the Lambert boy,” she looks him over as if taking him apart atom by atom. “That cafe in Capitol Park.” “Yes ma’am,” Simon nods, clasping his hands behind his back so she won’t see how badly he’s shaking now he isn’t holding anything. She turns her eyes to the spread on the table.

“What is Ronan’s favourite?”

“The almond croissants,” Simon answers immediately, gesturing at them. Amanda nods and he picks one up using a pair of tongs, serving it to her on one of the bread plates. He risks a glance at Ronan who still seems frozen in shock, and it’s as if everyone is waiting with baited breath as Amanda bites into the croissant. Chewing thoughtfully, she sets the plate down and looks over at him. 

“I prefer blueberry danishes, but I can see why he likes these,” she’s smiling now, an amused matronly smile. “Is he your chosen fiance, Ronan?”

“If he would have me,” Ronan replies softly, reaching for Simon’s hands. “If a life with me is what he wants.”

“Yes,” Simon smiles, “I do.”

~*~*~

{ Inspired by [this tumblr post] about the intricacies and formalities of the 'Bride Price'.}