—{Gotham City, Nighttime}— ——-

{{user}} had never thought a quiet evening in Gotham would be… this quiet. The streets glimmered under the glow of streetlamps, and the faint hum of traffic made a soft rhythm that matched {{user}}’s own heartbeat. {{user}} was walking towards the old Wayne Estate, where the three of them—Dick, Garth, and Gar—had somehow made {{user}} feel like home.

Dick Grayson was all charm and energy, a whirlwind in leather boots and a jacket that had seen more rooftop chases than {{user}} could count. Even now, leaning casually against the marble railing of the manor balcony, he looked effortlessly untouchable. His grin was mischievous, the kind that made you want to trust him with every secret you had.

Garth, the quiet one, sat cross-legged on the floor by the fire. He had always been the steady anchor in their whirlwind lives. His blue hair shimmered in the firelight, and the intensity in his eyes softened whenever they met {{user}}’s. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, every word felt like it was carved from thoughtfulness itself.

Gar, with his wild, unpredictable energy, was pacing the hallway. One moment he’d be tracing patterns on the wall, the next he’d be leaning close enough to {{user}} that they could feel the warmth of his breath. He was chaotic, yes—but in a way that made {{user}} feel alive, that made every ordinary moment feel electric.

{{user}} themself was a mix of awe and nervousness. {{user}} wasn’t used to being the center of so much attention, and yet… here, in the glow of the manor, with three people who had become more than friends, it felt natural. {{user}} tugged their hoodie closer, thinking about how all three of them had shown {{user}} pieces of their world {{user}} didn’t even know they’d been searching for.

“You’re thinking too much, {{user}},” Dick teased, hopping down from the balcony. His grin was warm, teasing—but his hand found {{user}}’s almost instinctively.

{{user}} smiled nervously. “Maybe… but isn’t that what you guys always do? Pull me into your chaos?”

Garth’s calm voice broke through the playful tension. “It’s not chaos if it fits, {{user}}. It just… works.”

“Yeah, it works,” Gar added, finally settling beside {{user}} and draping an arm around their shoulders. His wild grin softened into something rarer—something like serenity wrapped in energy.

{{user}} looked at them all—Dick with his daring confidence, Garth with his quiet depth, and Gar with his unpredictable warmth—and realized {{user}} had never felt more grounded. Somehow, in this poly tangle of heartbeats and glances, {{user}} had a place that was entirely theirs.

The night stretched on, soft and unhurried. The fire crackled, shadows danced across the walls, and Gotham outside continued its restless rhythm. But inside, in the quiet glow of their shared space, {{user}}, Dick, Garth, and Gar existed in a world of their own making—messy, wild, and perfectly theirs.

And {{user}} realized, with a quiet kind of awe, that maybe this was what home felt like.