#++ about the windows in dan's room

[hubriswest]

i feel i've been neglecting them.... so more re-animator family stuff!!!

[apatheticsunday]

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

[silicon-puppy-pudding]

Dpxdc prompt? Snippet? Idk?

I've had this scene stuck in my head for so long idk what to do with it so yall can have it.

~~~~~~~◇~~•~~◇~~~~~~{☆}~~~~~~◇~~•~~◇~~~~~~~

"We...may need to call on Phantom for this."

Batman grumbled at Constantine's remark. Up until now they hadn't had any issues with ghosts and he was hoping it would be longer before they needed to pull Phantom in for his expertise.

~

It had only been a month since King Phantom and his children came crashing into their dimension. Their ship had come out of a Lazarus green portal that spontaneously appeared in the lower atmosphere just outside of Gotham. Batman had called the League for potential backup and ended up surrounding the strange craft with Superman, Green Lantern, Martin Manhunter, and Zatanna for magical support.

They were not expecting a child, one no older then 6 or 7, with pearlescent white hair and striking green eyes to come tumbling out and crying for them to help her father.

~

Superman stood up from his place at the meeting room table with the grace of a man who didn't feel comfortable pestering an eldritch god of a man until it was absolutely necessary, "Are we sure this is a ghost? It could very well be something else-"

"Oh it's definitely a ghost," Constantine cut him off, taking a drag of his (against league policy) lit cigarette and blowing the smoke up at the ceiling, "There's no mistaken it. Even before Phantom's little 'crash course' on ghosts I coulda told ya that."

Batman looked over the blurry images on screen. They were of what looked to be two individuals riding a motorcycle at dangerous speeds through Metropolis. Superman had told them they hadn't hurt anyone directly but had caused a few minor crashes and were a general pain to interact with. Just like Phantom had told them, they couldn't be picked up clearly on any modern cameras and Superman hadn't had any luck capturing them. They simply slipped through a wall or disappeared around a block. It had been a week of this and Clark had finally given up and called for assistance.

"Isn't it like, 4am in Gotham?" Flash asked, leaning back in his chair, "Wouldn't he be asleep or something? Does he sleep?" The last bit he mostly asked to himself.

"Yes, he does," Batman answered, much to the confusion of Flash. "I'll make the call."

After a few rings the line picked up to a slightly slurred and staticky, "Hello?"

"Phantom, are you available at the moment. We think we may have...a ghost problem. In Metropolis."

A pause. Then a tired sigh came through the line, "Alright, give me 10 minutes." And the call ended.

Superman shifted uncomfortably, "It sounded like you woke him up." Of course he was listening. Batman glared at him, then turned to the rest of the gathered league, "He'll be here in 10 minutes."

About 6 minutes later a portal ripped itself open next to the window of the meeting room and out stepped Phantom, looking less drowsy then he sounded. Clinging to his back (to the League's surprise) was his oldest, Dante. And cradled in his arms, wrapped against his chest with his cape was his youngest, Eleonora, (they're only a month apart but Dante would throw a fit if he wasn't referred to as oldest sibling)

With a jaw cracking yawn Phantom stepped forward towards the meeting table, "Sorry, I hope it's alright I brought the kids." He started, running a hand through his daughter's hair, "Elly just had a nightmare and Dan didn't want to be left alone."

Over his shoulder, the little prince grumbled something about 'too quiet' and 'bad memories' and wasn't that mildly concerning.

"It's alright, you're majesty." Superman stood and gave Phantom a nervous smile. He didn't not trust the man but anything magical and/or supernatural tended to make even him nervous, "We know we called you quiet early and out of the blue... Sorry about waking you up,"

Phantom waved him off with another yawn, "Nah, it's fine, you didn't wake me. I was already up with Elly when you called." At her names mention, the little princess shifted and let out a small whimper. Phantom sighed and then a rumbling sound started up in his chest that sounded a lot like purring. At the noise, little Elly settled down again.

It was sweet, seeing this supposedly all powerful being just being a single father. A few days after the king was treated in the Watchtower's medical facility, they got a taste of what Phantom was capable of when a small armada of alien ships decided now was the best time to attack Earth.

~

The League had been gathered to discuss how to proceed when Phantom had stepped in and offered his assistance. "I owe you all for saving me," he had argued when they tried to refuse.

15 minutes

It took King Phantom 15 minutes (and 25 seconds) to have the aliens running with their tail between their legs. Debris from the lead ship unrecognizable.

~

"Alright, now what's this 'ghost problem' you need me for?" At that, the League (mostly Superman, considering it was in his city) explained the situation to their resident 'Ghost expert'.

~~~~~~~◇~~•~~◇~~~~~~{☆}~~~~~~◇~~•~~◇~~~~~~~

And that's it, idk where this was going but now it's out of my brain

And my hands

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: I did something I'm not proud of. Dan: Did you burn the ribs? Danny: No, Dan, the meal I promised you to get you here is fine. Dani: Did you forget the games? Danny: No, Dani, the board games I promised you, to get you here are in the same game room as last time. Jazz: Did you sell the hot tub? Danny: No, Jazz, the spa day I promised you to get you here will be happening tomarrow as scheduled. Dan: Then what you do? Danny: I got married this morning. Dani: You eloped!? Danny: The marriage was because of a cult Jazz: You're in a cult!? Danny: I'm Mr.Wayne now Dan: You didn't keep the family name! Danny: It wasn't my proudest moment, but a Phantom worshiping cult caught me in a summoning circle. They planned on sacrificing Bruce Wayne, a rich, beloved human they kidnapped, to use his death as a binding charm, forever enslaving me to them. I couldn't let him die, so I started a ghost marriage. Being married to me made the ritual invalid. Ten seconds after I finished my vows, Nightwing crashed through a window and set us free. It made the whole marriage pointless, and I ended up looking like an immortal idiot. Dan: Oh I forgot about that. Till this day I wasn't able to divorce him- Danny did you know we can't count as widows since we're partcially dead? Danny: YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN?! Dan: In defense, half of the world was destroyed at this point in my timeline, so I didn't think it would happen to you. My marriage to Bruce was entirely blown out of proportion. World leaders should have focused more on the menace tearing the world apart. Danny: YOU WERE THE MENACE. Dani: Wait does this mean Danny is sleeping with Dan's husband? Dan: *Gasp* It seems my greatest enemy was myself all along. Danny: There is no sleeping with anyone! Jazz: So, going back to the hot tub- will wine be provided or should I go get my own? Danny: I don't know what I bother hosting siblings night. Get out my house. Dan/Dani/Jazz: No. Danny: I hate you all.

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 3 - Oviposition ft Dan Heng (Honkai Star Rail)

Soooooooo.... this got out of hand WHEEZE as it always does when it involves dragon eggs. I'm-.... I'm just hopeless atp. Buckle up I'm about to ignore canon and pull a lot of made up shit from thin air for the sake of horny, lmaoooo. Lovingly dedicated to @moraxsthrone

This is how Tang Tang was made//HIT

At first, you aren’t sure if you heard correctly. 

Dan Heng says nothing but pointedly avoids your gaze with a healthy blush on his cheeks.

“Did you say, uh… maybe I misheard but-” You start.

“Eggs.” Dan Heng repeats. “Dragon eggs, much smaller, of course, but they… could be viable…”

“... Eggs.” You say with a blink. 

Dan Heng sighs. “Yes.” And turns around to stare and interact with a few screens. “According to some ancient records it seems, those who have fully realized their potential as draconic Vidhyadara and manifest the dragon-like characteristics and behaviors, could, in theory, be able to pass on genes and reproduce like our reptile counterparts.” 

He is still not looking at you. Scrolling mindlessly through windows of text and opening and closing tabs. He’s nervous, you know it. 

“Children.” You blurt.

“Yes, I… it’s understandable if you have reservations. There is time to consider, I don’t want you to feel obligated to anything or…”

There’s a bit of hope in his voice, your heart warms up and flutters. Children. It’s been such an accepted impossibility in your relationship. You’ve entertained the idea of adoption someday. Now there could be a chance?

You just never imagined it would involve getting railed and apparently pumped full of-

You inhale, close your eyes, and decide to speak before you think too much about it. “Alright, but you have a lot to explain.” 

------------------

And so, he explains. In excruciating detail. 

Dan Heng seems to be pondering aloud just as much as he is trying to explain the whole process. All an educated guess, though, as he puts it. You’re working with estimations and are not sure how to feel about that but he’s put an incredible amount of research into it all and that, at least, soothes you.

Over the years you’ve seen Dan Hang in many different ways and dealt with your fair share of… interesting Vidyadhara traits. Mates? Good. Funky dragon anatomy? Very good. Being protective and territorial over you? Yes. But eggs… will definitely be new. 

Your back hits the mattress and you shiver nervously, only in your underwear. Dan Heng kisses you softly, his hand cupping your cheek. Like this his eyes have an almost ethereal glow and his long dark hair is unbound falling down his back. Teal horns crown his head, and though they aren’t new you can’t help but be amazed by them every time.

“How do you feel? Are you sure about this?” He asks tenderly. 

You’re trying hard not to think too much about your previous discussions, sneaking a glance at his underwear out of the corner of your eye, or more accurately, at the large bulge in it. 

You lick your lips nervously and nod “Yeah… yeah, sure.” 

He sighs and smooths a hand along your shoulder. “If you have changed your mind-”

“No, no! I haven’t I promise I just… I’m nervous, there’s a lot to consider and…” You stare at him for a moment and remember, he is walking this path with you, just as lost and nervous. “I love you.” You smile reassuringly. “I love you so much. I want this.”

His breath comes out in a woosh and he leans forward again to kiss you. 

It’s passionate, demanding, his tongue tangles with yours and explores your mouth and you groan, your body melting under him, hands roaming each other’s bodies. You see his teal dragon tail manifesting, swaying about excitedly before curling around your ankle possessively.     

He massages your breast, pinching a nipple between his fingers to bring it to a stiff peak, you whine and arch your back, he takes the chance to make short work of your bra and toss it somewhere along the dark room before your arms curl around his neck once more to pull him down into another kiss.

His hips buck into yours and he moans. Even through the fabric you can already tell this time something is different. 

And honestly you can’t wait. 

Your fingers hook at the edge of his underwear, teasing, and start to pull down, Dan Heng groans and helps you discard his last piece of clothing, your panties quickly joining after and this is it. You stare.

Not just his gorgeous, thick cock you’ve come to love so much but two. Two.

One is relatively normal, his shape and girth familiar despite the clear draconic hue from his dark uncut tip and soft ridges. The other slightly larger, with a pointier tip, not as strange as Dan Heng had made it out to be. The Vidyadhara had been all shy and hesitant about it, both out of embarrassment and perhaps because he was afraid it might scare you off. 

Instead, desire pools between your legs. Oh, how you want.

“A-Alright, so first I should-!!” Any other words are lost in a strangled moan as you reach out and wrap your hand around the unfamiliar length. It’s hot in your palm, thick and firm. Dan Heng hisses as you tentatively jerk it a bit, squeezing around the tip, it’s spade-shaped and neatly tapered, perfect for reaching deep and pressing on just the right spots. 

Or so you assume, won’t know until you try.

He bucks into your hand with a grunt and you stare fascinated at the leaking tip, before either of you can process it, you dark forward and lap at it. “Hng!” He tosses his head back and his hand flies to grip at your hair. 

It tastes salty, slightly more viscous and you can’t get enough of it, you gingerly kiss at the tip and mouth at it before closing your lips around the crown, it’s thick in your mouth, your hand teasing the rest of it. 

You stare up at Dan Heng, his eyes shut tight, brow furrowed and face flushed all the way to the tips of his pointy ears, he’s tense and shivering, clearly holding back from rutting into the wet warmth of your throat. 

So, you attempt to take him deeper, moaning for good measure so the vibrations drive him insane, and you’re rewarded with more pleasured noises that make your pussy clench.

“My love… w-wait-” He gasps, you run your tongue along the underside of his length. “Fuck-!” Ohhh he’s losing his composure, his grip on your hair tightening. When your other hand curls around his unattended cock, thumb swirling at the tip, he snaps. “Enough.”

You pull off with a wet pop, licking your lips and catching your breath. 

Dan Heng pushes you back with a hand and you follow easily, back hitting the mattress and spreading your legs eagerly for him to slot in. He reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips, raising the slightly, his tail now curls around your thigh. 

Your stares cross, love and lust mixing. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, his thumb rubbing over your entrance, finding you dripping wet. 

“Yes, Aeons, yes…”

He leans down to kiss you again, tender this time, there’s a sense of intimacy that warms you. How you love this man, this dragon. The way he dotes over you, the way he breathes in your scent and kisses you and holds you close, tender. 

He sinks two fingers inside you and you whimper into the kiss. He works you open slowly, reverent, pulling in and out, stretching them a bit and adding a third. You’re squirming, desperate and worked up. Nails dragging on his back and shoulders. “Dan Heng please…” 

He kisses at your neck, nips the skin there with his fangs. “Be patient, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Please, just put it in. Breed me.” 

He stops, you hear a little growl, ragged breath on your collarbone, and suddenly the fingers are gone. You barely have time to miss them when that thick pointy cockhead is pressing against you. 

Then it sinks in, the glide slow and gentle with Dan Heng’s careful movements.  

And oh, oh- you feel him stretch you. Thick and long and so, so hot. It spears you open in the most delicious way, rubbing at your insides as he pulls out ever so slightly before fucking in deeper with slow rolls of his hips.

You toss your head back and moan. You feel so full, deliciously complete. The draconic cock settling deep inside as Dan Heng bottoms out, his balls flush against your taint and the second cock dribbling precum everywhere on your thigh and navel.  

You take a moment or two to settle, both of you, and then he starts moving. Dan Heng pulls back and rolls into you languidly, slow and deep, testing the waters. 

“So good for me… so warm and… thigh-!” He murmurs against your skin, pressing kisses anywhere he can reach. You keen, arching off the mattress and meeting his every thrust.

The air is thick and heavy, he presses as close as he can against you, your legs lock behind his back as he gradually speeds up. Your thoughts are fuzzy, blissed-out. The room is a cacophony of moans and whimpers and the sound of skin on skin. 

“I need- please- Dan Heng-!!”

The drag of his cock sets you alight, every nerve stimulated, pleasure building and building…

“I’m close” He rasps out. You’re about to tell him to come deep inside as he always does and then you remember.

“Oh.”

Dan Heng’s grip tightens in the sheets, his thrusts slow to a crawl and you suddenly feel a subtle bulge pressing against your hole. “T-that’s-” You say breathlessly. 

An egg.

He presses his forehead against yours and rolls his hips a little more insistent, trying to ease it in “Careful now…relax for me.” 

You’re trying but the pressure is intense and you’re already so full of thick cock. How can you take more? You whimper.

“I’m-”

“You can do it.”

A dragon egg, a little dragon baby. A tiny piece of you and him joining to create something wonderful. This is why you’re doing this. 

“Almost there” His voice is a soothing balm, con contradictory to the way he ruts into you, pushing your limits. But the way his teal eyes almost glow, pupils pulled to slits, flushed and panting but so determined, staring at you with so much love. You bite your lip and cant your hips, muffling your cries as his cock slips deeper with every thrust. 

It feels like an eternity when the ovipositor slips back all the way inside, and you cry out.

Dan Heng’s thumb traces your clit and while he can’t really pull out, he fucks into you with a nice deep grind.

“Dan Heng-!” You whisper, nothing more than a debauched breathless mess. “Dan Heng, Dan Heng, Dan Heng…”

The coil in your gut snaps and you come with a scream, tears springing to your eyes and your walls fluttering around his length, easing the egg deep inside you. He fucks a few more thrusts into you and then makes a noise you never heard from him before, a sort of choked growl.

Then, he stills.

You spend a few moments catching your breath and Dan Heng nuzzles into you, kissing away your tears as you lie a full, overstimulated, flushed mess. 

“Bear with me just a little longer.” He pants, pulling back a a little to hover over you. You groan, having almost forgotten about this particular step and the promise of his other cock, the one more familiar to you. 

He eases the ovipositor out of you slowly. The egg vaguely feeling heavy and round in your womb. You can’t think straight as Dan Heng shifts against you, his other cock resting against your entrance before easily sinking in, smaller than the first, bottoming out immediately. 

You sigh.

“I… I won’t last long.” He admits.

“Breed me.” You repeat. “Our egg will take.”

It seems like the right incentive as he starts fucking into you in a frenzied pace, pressing and pulling at your insides. You sob and squirm, uselessly trying to match his rhythm. He growls, groans and tips over surprisingly quickly, filling you up with sticky cum. 

Your body sags, spent, aching, full, and so utterly satisfied. He stays lodged in deep and doesn’t move. You both take a moment to come down from the intense high. 

Dan Heng slides a hand along your tummy, smoothing the skin there and feeling the very small subtle bulge there. “Mine. All mine… both of you.” He claims.  

You place your hand on his and smile weakly.

He finally pulls out, making you groan at the emptiness, and maneuvers you both onto your sides, spooning you. He brushes at your hair and kisses the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings “You did so well. I love you.” His hand rests on the soft curve of your stomach. The barest signs of a bump that could be easily missed. “Rest.” 

You sigh deeply, content. “Love you too…” Comes out slightly slurred. And so, you rest.

[rosyrosethings]

Snowed in

This is slowwww burn. Enemies to lovers. I love a good slow burn

7k+ words

Y/N’s breath puffed into the frozen air as she slammed her car door shut, the sound echoing across the quiet clearing. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she stepped forward, scarf pulled tighter around her neck, eyes lifting toward the cabin nestled between towering pines.

It was bigger than she expected—three stories of rich timber and stone, with a wraparound porch and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Warm golden light spilled from the windows, glowing like a promise against the cold gray sky. It would’ve been the perfect winter escape—if he wasn’t coming.

She sighed sharply, her breath fogging up her glasses. Of course Harry Styles was coming. Of course he had to be part of this.

The group trip had sounded great in theory: a week in a mountain cabin with friends, no work, just snow, booze, board games, and long mornings in pajamas. Y/N had needed the break—desperately. And it might’ve been just what she needed, if it weren’t for the single walking migraine that came bundled with dimples and a British accent.

Harry Styles was a menace. A flirty, smug, utterly infuriating headache of a man who lived to push her buttons. He always knew just what to say, what look to give, how to hover one second too long. Every interaction was a tug-of-war—one he acted like he was enjoying a little too much. She swore he only said her name like that—low and drawn out—just to make her skin crawl.

And worse? It worked.

She’d made sure to arrive first. If she had to be stuck here all week, she’d at least claim the best room. Hoisting her duffel bag onto one shoulder, she trudged up the porch stairs and brushed snow from her sleeves. The front door creaked open with a gentle push—unlocked, just like Mitch promised.

Inside, the cabin was warm and still, filled with the soft glow of firelight and the scent of cedar. Thick beams crossed the ceiling, a stone fireplace crackled quietly at the far end of the room, and plush rugs softened the dark wood floors. She stepped in slowly, letting the quiet settle over her like a blanket. For just a moment, it was perfect.

Then the front door flew open behind her with a burst of icy air.

“Don’t tell me you beat me here,” called a voice that made her jaw tighten on instinct.

She didn’t even need to look. She knew that voice.

Harry Styles stepped inside like he owned the place, snow dusting his boots and curls poking out from beneath a black beanie. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, eyes bright and full of mischief. That stupid, irresistible grin was already on his face.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered without turning around.

“Wow,” he said, unzipping his coat. “You came early. That’s cute. Trying to set up booby traps before I arrive?”

“Actually, I came early so I wouldn’t have to see your face for a few hours.”

He let out a laugh that was far too delighted. “God, you missed me.”

“I missed peace.”

Harry strolled farther in, glancing around like he was already rating the decor. “You know, the more you insult me, the more I’m convinced you dream about me at night.”

“I don’t dream about clowns.”

He raised a brow. “That’s weird. I dream about you sometimes.”

Y/N turned slowly, fixing him with a glare. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet,” he said, gesturing around them with mock innocence, “here you are. Sharing a roof with me.”

Before she could snap back, her phone buzzed so did Harry’s . Then again. Then a third time. She pulled it out and opened the group chat.

Dan: Roads are closing—storm’s worse than they predicted Lauren: They won’t let us past the ranger checkpoint Mitch: They’re putting us up at this little lodge halfway up the mountain Jessica: We’ll have to wait out the storm, prob can’t get to the cabin tonight Dan: You guys hold it down. Try not to kill each other Lauren: Or worse... hook up lol Y/N: I hope the snow swallows you all

She stared at the screen. Then slowly looked up. Harry was already grinning. “You have got to be kidding me.” She said under her breath. 

“Just us,” he said, arms outstretched like it was a dream come true. “In a beautiful, secluded cabin. Four bedrooms. And yet, I know you’ll still find ways to bump into me.”

“In your dreams.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Exactly.”

Y/N groaned and turned for the stairs. “I’m claiming the biggest room.”

“Already did.”

She froze. “Excuse me?”

“I was here first,” he said, smug. “Technically. I parked in the back, took the back stairs. My bag’s already on the bed. Mountain view, window seat, king bed. Super cozy.”

“You sneaky little—”

“Now, now,” he said, holding up his hands like he was diffusing a bomb. “Still three other bedrooms left. Unless, of course... you want to share?”

She turned slowly, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “I’d rather eat a blue jean jacket.”

He burst out laughing as she stormed up the stairs.

Y/N flung open the second bedroom door with more force than necessary. It wasn’t as big as the master, but it would do—queen bed, soft blankets, a little window with a snow-covered view. Most importantly, it was far enough away from Harry’s room that she wouldn’t have to hear him breathing.

She tossed her bag onto the bed and sat down, still bundled in her coat. Outside, the snow was falling faster now—thick, heavy flakes swirling in the wind. It was almost hypnotic, the way it danced through the air, piling higher along the porch and creeping up the trees.

They weren’t going anywhere tonight. That much was clear.

She had just finished unpacking when it happened.

Click.

The heater cut off.

A strange silence followed—no humming refrigerator, no subtle buzz of electricity. Just the low crackle of the fire from downstairs and the eerie groan of the wind pressing against the walls.

Then darkness.

Y/N paused, mid-step, her pulse skipping as the reality settled in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, flicking the light switch a few more times. 

Nothing.

From downstairs came Harry’s voice: “Power’s out!”

She rolled her eyes and shouted back, “Thanks, Sherlock!”

She quickly changed into some pjs, looking in bag for some kind of light source besides her phone to save battery. 

Nothing.

Just a book, a portable charger, Yarn,  and her pride.

The wind howled again, louder now, rattling the window beside her like a warning. The room was already getting colder. Upstairs suddenly felt very far away from the fire—and far too close to the storm.

With a grumble, she grabbed her phone and her book and headed downstairs.

The living room was dim, lit only by the fireplace’s faint orange glow. Harry was crouched in front of it, sleeves rolled up, feeding a fresh log into the flames. Sparks popped and danced up the chimney, and the heat slowly returned to the room.

Y/N stopped at the bottom step, arms crossed over her chest.

Harry looked up. “Look who finally decided to join me.”

“It’s freezing upstairs,” she said flatly. “And I don’t feel like being trapped in a horror movie setting alone.”

“Sure. That’s why,” he said, grinning. “Not because you missed me?”

She gave him a look. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

Harry stood and brushed off his hands. “Suit yourself. But unless you want to become a human popsicle, this fire is your best friend now.”

She walked to the far end of the couch and sat down stiffly, curling her legs under her. “Don’t talk to me.”

“No promises,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned with a cardboard box and a lighter. “Found these in the drawer next to the fridge. Candles.”

Y/N took them wordlessly and began lighting them one by one, placing them across the room—on the mantle, the windowsill, the coffee table. Warm golden light flickered to life in small halos, casting long shadows and softening the edges of the cabin.

The room shrank around them, cozier now, quieter.

She picked up her book, flipped to her dogeared page, and began reading. Harry dropped into the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he stared into the flames.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Outside, the storm roared like an angry beast, but inside, all was still.

Until—

Growl.

It was faint, but unmistakable.

Y/N froze, eyes locked on the page. She tried to play it off by flipping to the next chapter like nothing happened.

Harry opened one eye. “Was that… you?”

She didn’t answer.

“That was your stomach,” he said, grinning.

“It was the wind.”

“The wind doesn’t sound hungry, Y/N.”

She snapped her book shut. “Do not start.”

Harry stood with a stretch, heading into the kitchen. “Relax. I brought food.”

“Oh good,” she called. “Protein bars and bad decisions?”

“Funny. But no,” he said, rummaging through his bag. “Tonight, we dine like kings.”

He returned with two packs of instant ramen, a small pot, and a grin that made her immediately suspicious.

“You brought ramen?”

“Laugh all you want, but I knew we’d end up needing it. Mountain weather waits for no man.”

“I’d rather starve.”

Harry shrugged and headed toward the stove. “Suit yourself. But when you faint from hunger, I’m not catching you.”

She didn’t reply—but her eyes followed him as he knelt beside the wood-burning stove, coaxing the flames higher. He looked completely in his element, sleeves pushed up, focus sharp, hands steady. It was annoying how competent he looked.

And how good.

She turned back to her book, scowling at the page like it had personally offended her.

Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of water heating. Then the soft rustle of plastic as he tore open the ramen packets.

“Just so you know,” Harry said, “I’m making two bowls. Because I know you. You’ll pretend you’re not hungry, then creep into the kitchen at midnight like a raccoon.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

The scent of ramen filled the room, savory and warm. Her stomach growled again.

“I’m not eating that,” she said, sharper this time.

“Didn’t say you were,” he said casually, pouring noodles into the steaming water. “But I’m placing one bowl near you and walking away. What happens after that is between you and your integrity.”

Y/N didn’t answer. But her eyes flicked toward the stove. The ramen smelled criminally good. Salty, warm, comforting in the way only cheap noodles could be when you’re snowed in, half-frozen, and pretending not to starve in front of your nemesis.

Y/N tried to ignore it.

Harry stirred the pot slowly, adding the seasoning packets like he was cooking for a five-star review. When the noodles were ready, he ladled them into two mismatched ceramic bowls and grabbed a pair of forks.

He approached the couch and, without a word, set one steaming bowl down on the coffee table in front of her.

She glanced at it.

Then back at him.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, settling into the other end of the couch. “But if it was, honestly? I’d be impressed with myself.”

She glared. Her stomach growled again.

He wiggled his brows. “You gonna eat it or dramatically waste it to prove a point?”

Y/N let out a low groan and snatched the bowl. “I hate you.”

“You say that,” Harry said, twirling noodles onto his fork, “but you’re eating my food. Sitting in my firelight. Basking in my radiant charm.”

“Basking in your delusions.”

They both dug in, the room quiet except for the clink of forks and the soft whistle of wind outside. For a long stretch of time, they didn’t speak. Just ate. And sat. And didn’t hate it.

The silence felt different now.

Not stiff.

Not hostile.

Just… warm.

Y/N leaned back into the couch when her bowl was empty, curling the blanket tighter around her legs. Harry remained at the other end, his posture loose, gaze on the fire.

“You know,” he said, voice soft, “if this storm keeps up, I’m calling dibs on the big blanket tomorrow.”

She didn’t look over. “I’ll smother you with it.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Sounds romantic.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was laced with something unspoken. 

Something new.

The fire crackled, burning low and golden. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside, it felt distant. Muted.

Eventually, Harry stood and gathered their empty bowls, placing them in the sink before returning to the couch with a heavy sigh. He dropped beside her again, lounging like it was his right.

She gave him a look. “You have your own space.”

“And yet,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table, “this couch is cozy. Candle-lit. Warm. And you didn’t tell me to leave.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. She flipped a page, pretending to be immersed in the story—but his presence was louder than any paragraph.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head toward her.

“What are you reading?”

She didn’t look up. “You wouldn’t care.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not a comic or a sports article, so…”

He smirked. “You’re adorable when you’re judgmental.” She ignored that. 

“Come on,” he said, nudging her with his foot. “Read it out loud.”

She glanced at him, confused. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Your voice is nice. And the wind sounds like it’s trying to eat the house. Distract me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For feeding you. I could’ve made one bowl. I made two. That’s sacrifice.”

“That’s survival.”

“Still counts.”

She sighed, long and theatrical, then flipped back to the top of the chapter. “Fine. But if you interrupt me, I stop.”

He grinned and held up both hands. “Scout’s honor.”

Y/N cleared her throat and began reading, her voice steady and calm. The flickering fire beside them cast moving shadows along the walls, and Harry leaned back, watching her with quiet interest.

For once, he didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t tease.

He just listened.

She wasn’t used to that—not from him. But something about the way he was looking at her made her cheeks warm. Made her voice wobble just slightly before she caught herself.

She read until the end of the chapter, then gently folded the corner of the page and shut the book.

“There,” she said. “Happy?”

Harry blinked slowly, like waking from a dream. “That’s where it ends?”

“Yes. Thats the end of the chapter." 

“That’s criminal. Rachel’s about to ruin her life.”

“You were actually paying attention?”

“Obviously. She slept with Dex, Darcy's Fiance. There’s no turning back now.”

Y/N stared at him. “You know all their names?”

“I’m invested,” he said seriously. “You roped me into a soap opera.”

She laughed before she could stop herself—a soft, reluctant sound that made Harry smile wider. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.

“And you,” he said, shifting closer, “are kind of cute when you read." 

She scoffed. “You’re pushing it.”

He held out his hand. “Give me the book. I’ll read the next chapter.”

“You?”

“I have a British accent. It’ll be very dramatic.”

She rolled her eyes, but handed it over.

Harry adjusted on the couch, stretching his legs out with the book in his lap. He cleared his throat with exaggerated flair.

“Chapter Nine,” he announced in a mock-theatrical voice. “The morning after, I woke up feeling guilty… but not quite guilty enough.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. 

“Regret.”

“Shh. I’m reading.”

To her surprise, he wasn’t half bad. His voice, while occasionally dramatic for effect, dipped low and smooth at the right moments. His pacing was steady, and when he didn’t know a word, he rolled right through it like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t—not when he made the story sound like it belonged to him.

She peeked out from under the blanket and studied him quietly.

Harry’s curls had fallen into his face again, his lips moving softly with each line. His brow furrowed a little when the main character said something reckless. His mouth twitched into a smirk when the tension in the story spiked. He was... focused. Softened by firelight. And honestly, kind of beautiful.

Y/N blinked that thought away immediately. Nope. No. Absolutely not.

But then he stopped again—mid-sentence—and raised his brows with that familiar, knowing grin.

“Oh, this one’s good,” he said, holding the book up like it was evidence. Then he read, “‘I knew I was flirting. And I knew he was flirting back. But I also knew I wouldn’t stop.’”

Y/N groaned. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Harry looked over the top of the book, grinning. “You sure? Sounds familiar.”

“In what world?”

“In this cabin. Right now.”

“You are delusional.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Maybe. But you’re smiling.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the curve of her mouth. “Back to reading, pretty boy.”

Harry paused. Blinked. Then slowly smiled—this time softer. More real.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it.

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t a joke this time. Like he really wanted to know. And with the firelight flickering behind him, casting a golden glow on his skin and catching in his lashes, she couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t.

She looked away, fingers tightening slightly in the blanket. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled, but the grin he wore wasn’t teasing now—it was warm. Gentle. The kind of smile that lingered, even after he turned back to the page.

He cleared his throat and read on, but Y/N wasn’t really listening anymore.

Because now she was the one sneaking glances.

And for the first time since they’d gotten snowed in…

She wasn’t sure if she hated it.

She turned her attention back to the fire—but it was no use. Her eyes kept drifting back to him. To the way he absently tapped the side of the book with his finger.

She didn’t realize she was slipping until her head gently tilted toward the arm of the couch. Her eyelids blinked slower. The warmth of the room, the steady cadence of his voice, the way her body had finally stopped fighting—all of it lulled her deeper.

By the time Harry flipped the next page, she was completely still.

He glanced over.

Y/N was curled up in her corner of the couch, her face relaxed, her lips parted slightly in sleep. One hand still held the edge of the blanket, like she’d tried to fight it, but lost.

He smiled to himself and lowered the book.

“You couldn’t hang, huh?” he whispered.

Carefully, he set the book down on the coffee table, then turned back toward her. She looked peaceful—peaceful in a way he’d never seen her. All the snark and sharp edges melted off, just warmth and soft lashes and slow breaths.

Harry hesitated.

Then he reached behind her, grabbed the throw blanket and gently draped it over her. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

He paused a moment longer, looking at her.

He’d spent years getting under her skin. 

Teasing her, pushing her, watching her snap back at him with fire in her voice. And yeah, he’d loved every second of it. But this? This quiet moment, where she trusted him enough to fall asleep beside him?

It undid something in him.

“Goodnight angry,” he murmured.

He considered heading to his room, giving her space—but the warmth of the fire, the soft light of the candles, and her presence just a few inches away kept him still.

So he stayed.

He shifted gently onto his side of the couch, pulling the blanket over himself, careful not to disturb her.

And for the first time since arriving, Harry didn’t feel like pretending he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes, the storm still whispering outside, and let sleep take him too.

//

Y/N stirred in her sleep, the creeping chill tugging her gently out of her dreams. Her nose twitched. Her fingers flexed, brushing against something warm and solid.

That was the first clue something was… off.

The rest hit her all at once.

There was a strong arm wrapped snug around her waist. A warm chest pressed up against her back. A leg—oh god, someone’s leg—tangled over hers. And she wasn’t cold. Not really. Not where they were touching. She was actually kind of… cozy?

Still half-asleep, she nestled into the warmth, letting herself enjoy it for a moment. Whoever it was, they were warm and still and—

Wait.

Wait.

That scent.

Cedarwood. Laundry detergent. Trouble.

Her eyes snapped open.

No. No, no, no.

She shifted her head slowly, heart beginning to race as her gaze dropped to the pale arm curled tightly around her midsection. That was not her blanket. That was a man. And that—

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice rasping out into the quiet.

In one sharp motion, she jolted upright like she’d just discovered a tarantula in her bed. 

The blanket flew off, and Harry groaned behind her, arm flopping where she’d been.

“What the—”

He blinked up at her, bleary-eyed and confused, his curls a mess and his voice thick with sleep. “Why’d you move? We were warm.”

Y/N stared at him like she was trying to manifest fire from her pupils. “Were we cuddling?!”

Harry yawned. “It’s called body heat, sweetheart.”

She scrambled off the couch like she’d been electrocuted. “No. Nope. No, no, no.”

Still lounging on his side, Harry propped his head up with one hand, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For saving your life. It’s called survival cuddling.”

“I’d rather freeze to death.”

“You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Because damn it, she had liked it just for a second. Before she realized who it was. Before Harry’s obnoxious charm showed up at full volume.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders like armor. “I must’ve been sleep-deprived. Or delusional.”

Harry stretched lazily, unbothered and still shirtless. “I’m a great cuddler, Y/N. It’s okay to admit that.”

“You spooned me like a heat-seeking missile.”

He grinned. “You were the one radiating warmth.”

She gave him a flat look. “You’re not cute.”

He shrugged. “You did call me pretty last night.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“Sure it was.”

Before she could fire back, a frigid gust whistled against the windows, and they both turned to glance at the hearth. The fire was completely out. Just ash and cold logs.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her arms. “Perfect. Now we’re actually gonna freeze.”

Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll get more firewood. Don’t go passing out without me.”

“Trust me,” she muttered, stalking toward the kitchen. “You’ve cured me of any desire to sleep.”

As he disappeared into the hall to grab wood from the closet, she watched him go—shirtless, annoyingly tall, and still wearing that smug grin.

She scowled.

And yet, the ghost of warmth where he’d held her still lingered. And for some reason… that annoyed her most of all.

By the time Harry dragged himself off the floor and toward the stack of firewood in the back room, Y/N had wrapped herself in a blanket so tightly she looked like a grumpy little burrito—warm, silent, and very much Not In The Mood.

The cabin was freezing—again. The fire had gone out overnight, and without power, the chill seeped into everything that wasn’t pressed up against the hearth.

She didn’t say anything as Harry disappeared down the hall. When he returned with an armful of logs, she watched from the couch—quietly, like a cat perched on alert. He didn’t speak either, just dropped to his knees and got to work rebuilding the fire.

It only took him a few minutes to get it going again—he was weirdly good at it, crouched low in his hoodie and sweats, sleeves pushed up, curls falling into his eyes as he coaxed flames from kindling like he did this all the time.

And maybe he did.

Which was somehow more irritating.

Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, biting back the part of her brain that wanted to compliment him. Or at the very least... thank him.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

"Fire’s back," he said finally, brushing ash from his palms as he stood. The fire crackled again, warm golden light spilling across the cabin floor. “You’re welcome.”

She didn’t look up. “Congratulations on fulfilling basic survival instincts.”

"You really know how to say ‘thank you,’" he muttered, walking past her toward the kitchen. “And to think I was sensing improvement.”

Y/N didn’t respond. Instead, she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a tangled skein of golden-brown yarn and her favorite crochet hook—slipping into rhythm the moment the yarn touched her fingers. Hook. Pull. Twist. Loop. Her mind began to settle. A scarf, maybe. She didn’t care what it was. It was something to do with her hands while her brain spun in circles.

Across the room, she heard the familiar rustling of a duffel bag being unzipped. Water clinking into a small pot. The stove creaked open—still warm from last night—and a match hissed to life. No eggs this morning.

Just ramen. Again.

It was weirdly comforting.

She didn’t say anything, but her stomach did.

Harry didn’t even turn around. “Didn’t even argue this time. Growth.”

“I’m reserving my insults for later,” she said coolly, not looking up from her stitches.

“Save your energy,” he called back. “You’re gonna need it to slurp this world-class noodle masterpiece.”

“You mean boil noodles and dump powder in?”

“Gordon Ramsay’s shaking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but kept crocheting. The crackle of the fire, the bubbling pot, and the smell of salty broth slowly warming the room—it was peaceful, in a weird, very not normal way.

Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the edge of her vision, holding out a ceramic bowl with a fork sticking out. 

She eyed it warily.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, nudging it closer. 

“Unless you count sodium as a weapon.” Y/N took the bowl with a soft grunt of thanks, still not meeting his eyes.

Harry dropped onto the floor beside the couch, cross-legged, cradling his own bowl. “We’ve officially peaked. Noodles by candlelight.”

“You’re romanticizing instant ramen,” she muttered, digging in.

He slurped dramatically. “That’s because this is romantic.”

She smirked, barely.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that was… not awkward. Not quite comfortable either. Something in between. Something new.

Y/N peeked at him once. Just once.

But of course, he caught her.

“What?” he asked, noodles hanging out of his mouth like a fool.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was judging.”

“Same thing,” he said, swallowing. “But go ahead, admit it. I make excellent apocalypse noodles.”

She considered. “They’re edible.”

“High praise,” he said, mock-bowing his head.

When she finished her bowl, she set it aside and reached for her yarn again. Harry leaned back on one hand and watched her fingers move.

“So… that your new scarf?”

“Maybe.”

He watched a little longer, then added, “You always crochet when you’re annoyed?”

She didn’t look up. “It’s either this or fight someone.”

He snorted. “You’re full of sunshine.”

She kept going, calm and rhythmic. “Crochet doesn’t talk back. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t leave its socks everywhere.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I do none of those things.”

“You flirted with a squirrel yesterday.”

“That squirrel was asking for it.”

Y/N choked on a laugh and shook her head. The moment stretched, softening like dough under a rolling pin. No tension. No snark. Just two people thawing—slowly—beside the fire.

Harry tilted his head, eyeing her half-finished piece. “Make me something?”

She looked at him like he had sprouted antlers. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I’ll wear it. And think of you every time I do.”

“That’s supposed to make me want to make you something?”

His grin widened. “Come on. I’d look good in something you made.”

Y/N paused, stared at him, then muttered, “A muzzle.”

Harry laughed—really laughed. Not one of his smug little chuckles or sarcastic scoffs, but a genuine, warm burst of amusement that crinkled his eyes and curled his dimples.

She wasn’t used to hearing that kind of laugh from him.

She definitely wasn’t used to liking it.And that unsettled her more than the blizzard howling outside. It cracked something open in her chest, something quiet and hesitant and unfamiliar.

They fell into an easy silence after that. The fire glowed steadily now, golden and soft, casting lazy shadows on the cabin walls. Their ramen bowls sat empty on the floor beside them. Y/N’s yarn moved between her fingers like it had a heartbeat of its own—loop, pull, twist, repeat. Soothing, steady. But her eyes kept drifting, flicking toward him more often than she wanted to admit.

Then Harry leaned forward and picked up the book they’d started the night before—the same one she’d read to him by candlelight. His thumb brushed over the dog-eared corner he'd folded down before he fell asleep.

“I could read a bit more,” he said casually, already flipping it open. “Unless you’re too busy knitting me a muzzle.”

“It’s crochet,” she corrected, without missing a stitch.

He smirked. “Still not denying it.”

“I’m considering gag options.”

“Charming,” he murmured with a grin, already settling back into the couch. He adjusted until he was half-reclined again, legs stretched out and the book open on his lap. The firelight danced across his face and the worn paperback, softening both in a way that made her throat tighten unexpectedly.

Y/N didn’t stop him.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t even roll her eyes.

Instead, she just kept crocheting as his voice filled the room again—low and warm and surprisingly steady, each word threading between them like another row in the blanket between her hands.

The fire crackled quietly, a low hum behind Harry’s words. Outside, the wind pressed against the windows like a whisper, muffled by thick snow. Inside, everything felt smaller. Closer.

Safer.

Before they knew it Time clicked away,  Harry read without pause, his voice dipping with tension, rising with humor. The tips of his fingers tapped the page as he spoke. He didn’t rush. Didn’t perform. It almost felt like he forgot she was there—like he read for himself.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her and tried to focus on her stitches, but her hands were stiff with cold. The blanket wrapped around her wasn’t cutting it anymore. The fire helped, sure—but her body craved something more immediate. Something warm and alive.

Something like the man sitting next to her.

She told herself it was just the temperature. Just comfort. Just necessity.

But her body was already leaning before her mind caught up.

First, her shoulder brushed against his arm.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her, a quiet glance, but he didn’t stop reading. He didn’t flinch or shift away. Instead, he adjusted slightly, tilting the book so she could see the page better. His posture relaxed, the corner of the throw blanket brushing her knee now.

It was a silent invitation.

She didn’t pull back.

A few pages later, her knee nudged against his.

Then the blanket slipped off one shoulder, goosebumps rising instantly along her skin.

Without missing a word, Harry reached behind them, grabbed the thicker throw blanket draped over the couch, and gently, wordlessly laid it across both of them. His hand grazed her arm in the process—warm and steady, grounding her like an anchor.

Y/N’s breath caught.

It was subtle.

Barely anything.

But somehow… it was everything.

She didn’t lean away. Didn’t speak.

She just listened—to the story, to the fire, to the steady, deliberate rhythm of his voice beside her.

And when she finally let her hook fall into her lap, resting her yarn beside her, she didn’t even notice her head tipping onto his shoulder.

She should’ve shifted. Should’ve made a sarcastic quip. Should’ve rebuilt the distance they’d so carefully maintained since the moment they met.

But instead… she let it happen.

Harry didn’t speak. Didn’t tease.

His arm moved slowly behind her back, slipping across her shoulders and resting with gentle weight along the curve of her body. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull. Just held her—warm and patient, as if he’d known all along she would fold eventually.

He read on like nothing had changed.

But it had.

Y/N sat curled beneath his arm, blanket pooled around them both, the steady rise and fall of his voice softening into something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—safe. It wasn’t the story anymore that had her full attention. It was him. The way his chest moved beneath her cheek. The slow cadence of his breathing. The warmth that radiated off him like a second fire.

Her fingers twitched slightly beneath the blanket and—without meaning to—came to rest lightly over his chest.

Harry’s voice faltered for half a second. Barely noticeable. But she heard it.

He cleared his throat, blinked down at the page, and continued reading.

The book was hitting its emotional stride. Rachel was unraveling. Dex was making excuses. Darcy was still in the dark. The drama should’ve made Y/N roll her eyes—but now, it felt different. Like every word was being read not just aloud, but to her.

Specifically.

Intentionally.

And yet, it wasn’t performative. There was no smugness, no smirk on his face. Harry wasn’t playing a role anymore. He was just a boy reading a book, holding a girl who used to swear she hated him.

Somewhere around the middle of the chapter, her eyes started to flutter shut. Not from boredom. Not even from sleep. But from the calm—the peace—that had settled deep in her chest.

Her head dropped fully onto his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense just a little. Then relax again.

She didn’t mean to nuzzle closer.

But she did.

And he didn’t stop her.

His hand shifted slightly, brushing up her arm until it rested at the bend of her shoulder. The pads of his fingers touched her like she might disappear if he held too tight.

She didn’t.

She stayed.

By the time he finished the chapter, the room had gone quiet again.

He glanced down at her.

Y/N was still awake—barely—but her eyes were half-lidded, lashes brushing her cheeks, mouth parted the slightest bit. Her fingers were still resting against his chest. Her body tucked along his side like it had always belonged there.

Harry closed the book slowly and rested it on the table.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t want to break the moment.

Instead, he looked at her. Really looked.

She wasn’t scowling.

Wasn’t rolling her eyes.

Wasn’t biting back a sharp remark.

She just looked… soft.

Warm.

Real.

Like someone he hadn’t fully met yet—but wanted to.

He exhaled slowly and let his head fall back against the cushion. One arm still around her, his other hand drifted beneath the blanket and found her wrist, thumb brushing gently against her skin.

///

The room was quiet now.

Outside, the wind had calmed, settling into a gentle hush as snow drifted steadily from the sky. Inside, the fire burned low—an amber flicker casting long, slow shadows across the wood-paneled walls. The candles had melted into puddles at their bases, the scent of wax and cedar still hanging faintly in the air.

Y/N stirred.

She blinked slowly, breath catching as her brain registered warmth. Not just from the fire—but from beneath her. Around her.

Soft cotton brushed her cheek.

A rhythmic rise and fall pressed against her ear.

She was warm—warmer than she had been in days.

And then… she realized why.

She was in Harry’s lap.

Her entire body, tucked up in the fetal position, was curled over him like he was a makeshift mattress. Her head rested against his chest, right over his heart. One of his arms cradled her back, the other resting lazily on the armrest. Her legs were folded across the couch cushions—but she was definitely on him.

Panic flared first. Sharp and fast.

She jolted upright a little too quickly, like she’d just realized she’d been snuggling the devil himself. “Oh my god,” she breathed.

Harry, still half-asleep, cracked one eye open. His lashes were mussed, his curls a soft halo around his face, and his T-shirt was wrinkled from the weight of her cheek. He looked far too good for someone just waking up.

A crooked smirk curved his lips. “Well, well,” he murmured, voice deep and sleep-slicked. “Look who decided to wake up.”

She stared at him, still trying to get her brain to reboot. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You were out cold,” he said, stretching slightly beneath her. “Didn’t move when I shifted. Or when the fire popped. Or when I put the blanket back on you.”

“I—” She paused, biting her lip. “I thought I fell asleep on the couch.”

He blinked. “You did. I just happened to be part of it.”

She groaned and flopped forward again, face hitting his chest with a muffled thud. “God. This is humiliating.”

“Disagree,” he said lightly, his fingers brushing her arm through the blanket. “You’re surprisingly cuddly.”

“I’m cold,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You’re clingy,” he corrected.

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet, here we are.”

His arm was still around her—loose, casual, but firm enough to remind her just how close they’d gotten. Her hand was resting on his stomach, blanket slipped halfway off her shoulder, and she hadn’t even noticed.

She thought about pulling away again. She really did.

But the fire was barely burning, and his chest was warm, and his voice sounded like home in a way it had absolutely no right to.

So she stayed.

Harry didn’t say anything more. Just shifted a little to give her more room, then leaned his head back and exhaled softly through his nose. His fingers trailed slow, absentminded circles on the back of her sweatshirt—barely-there movements, rhythmic and comforting.

Y/N's pulse thudded louder in her ears.

This wasn’t just convenience. This wasn’t just about staying warm.

It was something else.

Eventually, she whispered, “You’re not… what I thought you were.”

Harry tilted his head just enough to glance down at her. “No?”

“I mean, you are. Kind of. But also not.”

He chuckled. “That clears it up.”

She pulled the blanket higher. “I mean… I thought you were all talk. Just ego and flirting and jokes.”

“I am.”

“But you’re also…” She trailed off.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Steadier than she wanted to admit.

Harry smiled lazily. “You can say devastatingly charming. I won’t stop you.”

She elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughed again—low and genuine—and this time it tugged something loose in her chest.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. Just laid there, tangled under the blanket, breathing in sync.

Y/N’s eyes began to droop again. Her fingers curled loosely into the hem of his T-shirt. Harry’s hand never stopped tracing her back. The fire crackled, and somewhere between the silence and the comfort, she let herself drift off again

/

The morning sunlight crept in slow and honeyed, stretching long arms across the hardwood floors and casting warm halos around the quiet room. The fire had burned down to ash, leaving only a faint smell of smoke and the chilled hush of a new day. But still, there was warmth.

Because of him.

Y/N stirred, her face nestled against smooth cotton and bare skin. Her cheek rested squarely on Harry’s chest—his shirt nowhere in sight. One of his arms was tucked behind his head, the other curled tightly around her waist, anchoring her to him. Her thigh draped across his, tangled under the thick blanket that had slipped slightly to reveal the sculpted lines of his stomach.

She blinked slowly.

Took in the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear. The way his hand rested just beneath her ribs. His scent—soap, firewood, and something inherently him.

And for the briefest, most dangerous moment… she smiled.

It was peaceful. Soothing.

Safe.

And then—the creak.

The front door groaned against the cold.

Voices.

Footsteps crunching snow on the porch. A laugh. A loud, familiar one.

Her heart stopped.

She jolted upright like she’d been electrocuted. “Oh my God—”

Harry stirred, a low sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. “What—?”

She was already wriggling out of his arms, panicking, shoving the blanket aside with a flurry of limbs and regret. Her bare foot hit the cold floor. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Y/N?” he mumbled, voice gravelly and dazed.

Too late.

The door flew open with a ding from the old bell overhead, and cold air rushed in.

Jessica stomped into the cabin first, wrapped in a marshmallow of a puffer coat, cheeks flushed from the snow. “Y/N! You’re still alive!”

Y/N, halfway to standing, scrambled upright and grabbed the nearest throw blanket, hugging it around her like armor. She forced a tight smile, trying not to breathe like she’d just been sprinting across landmines.

“Hey,” she choked out. “Glad you made it safely.”

Behind Jessica, a second girl stepped inside—shaking snow from her coat, eyes bright and curious.

Taylor.

Long, shiny waves of chestnut-brown hair framed her face like a shampoo commercial. Her skin glowed against the cold, and her bright blue eyes immediately scanned the room like she was taking inventory of the space—and the people in it. 

Y/N felt her stomach twist.

Not because Taylor wasn’t nice. But because she was perfect. The kind of effortless pretty that made you question your own reflection. And the way she looked at Harry when her eyes landed on him?

Well. That said enough.

Harry, who was only just now sitting up, blinked blearily, shirtless and still blanket-wrapped. His curls were messy. His voice was thick with sleep. “Morning…”

Taylor stopped mid-step, jaw slightly slack.

Jessica’s brows rose as her eyes ping-ponged from Harry’s bare chest to Y/N’s flustered appearance.

“Did we interrupt something?” Jessica asked, too casual to be casual.

Y/N snorted—too loud, too fake. “No. No! God, no. I was just… up early. Reading.”

Taylor blinked slowly, eyes still glued to Harry like she hadn’t heard a word. “Hi,” she said, smiling. “You must be Harry.”

Harry rubbed his eyes, squinting toward the sound of her voice. “Uh… I think so?”

Jessica smirked. “He’s usually a little more charming once he’s fully conscious.”

Taylor giggled, stepping farther into the room, but Harry’s gaze had already drifted past her—landing briefly on Y/N.

She wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking anywhere but him.

Still, he caught the way her fingers clenched tighter around the blanket at her chest. The flush across her cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

Y/N turned her back quickly, darting toward the kitchen, mumbling something about tea.

Jessica didn’t miss it.

Behind her, Harry stood, blanket slipping down slightly as he stretched. His skin glowed in the morning light, shadows cutting across his arms and torso like artwork. Taylor’s stare was hungry. Obvious.

“Ohh its so cold in here” Taylor sad sweetly.

Harry yawned and reached for his shirt. 

“Yeah. I’ll go grab some more firewood.”

As he padded past, Taylor turned to watch him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip just slightly.

Y/N, from the kitchen, poured water into the kettle a little too forcefully.

Jessica leaned against the counter, one eyebrow cocked. “You good?”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered.

Jessica smirked. “You’re glowing.”

Y/N gave her a look. “I’m actually coming down from high after thinking someone was breaking in to kill us.”

“Uh huh.”

Behind them, the door creaked again as Harry stepped into the back room to get firewood, and Taylor moved a little further just to watch him. 

Y/N stared down at the tea kettle, face tight.

Jessica studied her best friend for a moment, then casually said, “So You and didn't kill each other?" 

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 341

Danny sighs as the sound of a falling shelf reaches him, quickly followed by twin snarls. He takes a breath, even if he hasn’t needed to breathe since he was fourteen, and counts to ten as he pauses in making dinner. 

“Ellie, Dan, what’ve I said about throwing each other into the shelves-” 

He stops as he comes to the living room doorway, both of the gremlins freezing mid-stuffing an unconscious vigilante out the window, feathers puffed up. Dear Ancients he does not want to deal with this today, but it’s not like life ever cared about what he wants in any situation. 

“Elnath, Jordan, you better not be about to toss that person out the window-” 

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

�� Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyyy, So I got reminded of an Old post of mine by one of you gremlins so you all get to deal with my bullshit now :) }~

•Everlasting Sirens•

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When the Lantern Core connected the JL they were expecting a fight some even started to mentally prepare themselves for a battle with the newest enemy’s.

But as they were told the reason they were all pleasantly surprised, apparently a old planet that was code named “Ocean Wasteland” by the LC because of its surface where there is only one piece of land and it’s about the size of a small park is the best thing to compare it too and this planet was mostly forgotten about.

Until the LC got a reading of intelligent life on the planet and they want to send the JL to go check it out, and the JL agrees.

So now the JL [Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Green lantern, Flash, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman] were now in a submarine in the middle of a alien sea looking for anything with intelligence and it was not going anywhere.

They had been looking for about three hours now and have seen nothing but the fish of the planet but that was until they went over a very large rock formation that was mostly dark due to the placement.

Than they heard a loud shrill cry and a loud garbled scream that was the only warning before the submarine started to get hit around like a game of volleyball as this was happening the cry’s and screams continued, disorienting the JL and with how whatever was hitting them back and forth was damaging the sides it was only a matter of time before it started to break.

So the JL needed to do something about this fast but before they could do anything the muted sound of rocks being dropped to the sandy sea floor and the hitting stopped that’s when Batman gets up from where he and the rest of the JL have been thrown to the floor of the submarine and straighten the submarine out and when he does.

They find out what was hitting them. A purple and black eel like woman with a red and gold octopus like man who are now looking and hovering around a person with a long flowy black tail and mid-length white hair looking severely annoyed at the two other Alien-Mers while one of their hand stay on their…. stomach.

Oh

OH

They too close to the pregnant one!

~{I’ll probably redo this part when I have the energy}~

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

When Danny took in Dans and Danis or well Dusk and Dawn as they have been renamed cores. He with Jazz, Sam and Tucker knew that Danny couldn’t hide that he was a Halfa anymore, while Maddie and Jack may be neglectful and forget about the fact they even had kids sometimes they weren’t stupid.

So the four of them made a plan, Danny and Jazz would sit their parents down and tell them everything if they reacted well they would send Sam and Tucker a text that said everything went well if they reacted badly Danny and Jazz would book it out of the house and to the bus station where Sam and Tucker would be with Go-Bags and skip town [To the Ghost Zone or Any other place whatever was safer].

But when Jazz and Danny didn’t send the signal or text, Sam and Tucker got nervous and started to walk up to the window in the room where the talk would be happening and what they saw would haunt them.

They saw Jazz on the Floor with the hole in her side still smoking and bleeding from her head and Danny with the Fentons gone and blood on the walls, Sam kicked in the back door and checked on Jazz who was breathing but not much and she was only able to say that the Fentons gave Danny to the GIW before taking her last breath.

Sam and Tucker buried her near the lake. It was one of her favorite places to hang out with them and far enough from town to be left alone, after paying their respects and giving her a proper burial they started on tracking down their love.

They had finally found Danny, They had broken into the G.I.W base farthest from town by sneaking in without anyone seeing them Does it count as seeing if they don’t live long enough to do anything with it? And search for Danny.

After about 4 minutes they find him. Danny their Love, their sweet boyfriend adores space and would gush about feeling their children’s feelings was strapped down to a metal table with three an around him cutting him open and they were trying to take their children’s cores out of him.

Sam and Tucker left that room covered in blood and gore with Danny in Sam’s arms. As they stood in the doorway checking on Danny a loud alarm went off and they could hear heavy running steps down the hall and approaching fast. And with Danny being in worst shape then they thought it would be impossible to get out.

Suddenly a green portal with purple around the edges appears in front of them and they run through as they recognize immediately who it is and they end up in clockworks tower and as the portal closes behind them some blob ghost that Clockwork likes to keep around to do small things start to bandage up Danny.

As the Blobs do that, Clockwork starts talking saying how they can never return to their world as if they do the G.I.W will just keep on going after them until they are caught or have no choice but they can’t stay in the Ghost Zone as even if Danny would have little problem staying with the need for vitamins but Sam and Tucker aren’t Ghosts yet so they can’t stay. But Clockwork has a place where could stay, it’s a planet far from any place that could hurt them and Clockwork can give them forms that help them adapt to the new location and keep each other and their children safe.

Sam and Tucker agreed.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•Sam and Tucker will find a way to drop kick anyone who gets to close to the den or Danny even in Siren form.

•When Ghost/Ghost adjacent people change to a more animalistic form they gain some of the instincts and behaviors of said animal 

•The trio sleep for most of the “Daytime” and do what they want at night, they basically become nocturnal.

•Ah yes some good old gender fuckery on Danny’s part

•Dani and Dan will be renamed Dawn and Dusk

•Sam and Tucker wanted to be in the room where Danny and Jazz told the Fentons everything but Jazz reasoned that they would have to GO if the Fentons reacted badly and already having Danny and Jazz in their was a slowing point so it was better for them too wait outside….Oh how Sam and Tucker regrets not fighting harder with her.

•Sam: Tucker=“Hun” Danny “Love”

Tucker: Sam “Azizi” Danny “Habibi”

Danny: Sam “Moonbeam” Tucker “Sunbeam”

•Sam and Tucker have a body count now :)

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

The top half and the animal tail.

Danny’s appearance

The fabric is white and a greenish black

Sam’s appearance

The fabric is black and purple

Tuckers appearance

The fabric is red and gold

(I don’t really love the picks but it’s the best I could do so feel free to pick new one if you feel like it)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

~{And that’s it! From how it’s written you can tell what I wrote first lol, but sorry if the story bits are weird I am running on caffeine and the will to fight god and I’m going to go to sleep, hope you gremlins liked it Byeeeeeee}~

[lavandulawrites]

Hello, can req yandere sunday x fem reader x yandere danheng?

Voting

Yandere Sunday x reader x Dan Heng

This dynamic is rather interesting

Masterlist

Warnings: obsession, Dan Heng and Sunday have beef, possession, despair

Word count: 703

Golden eyes that held heavy burdens and emotions met pale blues brimming with calculation and weariness. Liquid gold swirled together with icy waters in a battle of jealousy and thinly veiled possession. The sound of the little bunny drowned out as they continued to explain the rules of the Express. Flutter of wings and sneering of fangs a clear sign of disdain, though only a single person caught on to it.

You swallowed thickly as the two men continued to stare into each others souls with hatred. The air around you buzzed with electricity and your throat closed in on itself like a snare. Cold sweat coated your temples as you adverted your gaze from the pair.

“So is everyone in favour for Sunday staying on the express?” the slightly screeching voice of the conductor snapped you out of your daze.

You turned to face them as you tried to ignore the tension in the air. The other members of the express nodded except from you and Dan Heng. You hesitated as your mind raked through different outcomes. You were on the losing end no matter what you answered.

March raised her eyebrows as she gave you a puzzled look. “What about you? [Name] what do you think?”

You swallowed as you felt the weight of the golden eyes. He was watching you with a unreadable gaze. You refused to met his gaze, at least not yet. Your molars crushed together tightly. “I don’t know” you said under your breath.

“You don’t know?” Himeko said. “Well, it’s okay if you aren’t sure yet. We still have Dan Heng who hasn’t given his answer” the red haired woman turned to said man.

Dan Heng’s eyes were fixated on Sunday as his eyes narrowed. “I have already made up my mind. I have done that a long time ago” his words harsh like the unforgiving winter wind. He turned around and found your eyes. He studied your expression for a bit before he looked at Himeko. “I don’t think we should let him stay. We don’t know if we can trust him” his voice had an icy edge to it and you could feel the iciness on your skin.

Sunday forced a chilling smile as he remind silent, but his dissatisfaction was clear as day.

“Four votes for, one isn’t sure and one against. Then it’s settled” PomPom declared. The rest of the Nameless left the room with PomPom in the lead.

The three of you stood in silence as you avoided their gazes. Your stared out of the large windows out on the countless stars. Penacony was grand in all its glory and you felt regret creeping over you like a looming monster. If only you never had stepped foot onto the planet of festivities.

After a few long minutes had passed, Sunday cleared his throat. “I look forward to travel with the Express, my dove” the winged man said with a velvety soft voice. You turned your head and looked at him over your shoulder. His smile was soft and his eyes gentle. You only hummed, before you turned back to gaze out of the window.

Dan Heng snorted sharply. “Don’t do anything you will regret, Sunday. I will keep my eyes on you” his words sharp as razors.

Sunday chuckled “No need to be so aggressive Dan Heng. I would never hurt my lovely little darling”.

Dan Heng sneered like the dragon he was and adverted his gaze. You could feel his baby blues boring into the back of your head.

“Calm down both of you” you sighed loudly as you cradled your head in your hands. You had grown weary of their bickering and hateful comments.

Invisible chains wrapped around your limbs like a hungry snake and weighed you down to the train. You glanced out the window as you saw your freedom spread its wings as it soared through the stars. You wanted to reach out for it, to make it stop, but you found yourself unable to. The cold familiar feeling of despair spread through your body like mould. It gnawed away at your nerves and cells, till nothing remained but a hollow shell remained. Oh were you fucked.

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[aventurineswife]

hello~ I was hoping I could make a teensy (hopefully it stays teensy request XP) Dan Heng, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Jing yuan, Jiaoqiu and AE!Sunday with a s/o or spouse who gets cold very easily but they remain quiet and dont complain abt it out loud to avoid being a bother XPc 🍮♠

Unspoken Warmth

Summary: Your partner notices your quiet endurance of the cold and offers warmth in their unique way, despite your reluctance to show weakness.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dr. Ratio x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Quiet Intimacy, Cold Weather Care, Protective Characters, Emotional Support, Silent Love, Soft Moments

You never complained about the cold. Not once. The chill of the wind outside the Astral Express had crept into your bones, and while most would have found the drop in temperature unbearable, you kept your discomfort to yourself. Dan Heng, however, was not one to miss the subtle shiver that ran through your body as you sat near the windows, gazing out into the vast, starry void.

He had noticed it before. How you would curl into yourself just a little tighter when the cold crept in, how you would sit with your shoulders drawn in, silently enduring the icy air without a single word of complaint. It wasn’t like you to ask for anything—Dan Heng knew that much. He respected it, perhaps more than you realized.

But that didn’t mean he was blind to it.

One evening, as the train hummed steadily through the vastness of space, he sat beside you, his sharp gaze flicking over the space around you. It had gotten colder, the sort of bite in the air that left no room for doubt. Yet you remained still, your posture ever so slight in your discomfort.

Without saying anything, he stood up and moved toward the cabin's storage. You heard the faint rustle of fabric, and then he returned, holding a thick, dark cloak draped over his arm.

“This should help,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, as he carefully wrapped the cloak around your shoulders.

The warmth that radiated from the fabric immediately enveloped you, a small relief from the chill that had been gnawing at your skin. You opened your mouth to thank him but caught yourself. He was already back in his seat, his spear resting against the wall beside him. His demeanor hadn't shifted—stoic, calm, as always.

But then, you noticed the subtle change in his expression. His gaze, soft yet insistent, met yours for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t pity, but understanding. You weren’t the only one who carried silent burdens.

“I’ve got your back,” he added quietly, as though reading your thoughts.

And you knew, without needing to say a word, that he would always be there, silently offering warmth when you least expected it.

The cold had arrived swiftly, settling in with the smooth precision of a well-played hand in a game of cards. But unlike the calculated nature of your partner, this sudden chill seemed to have caught you off guard. Your body shivered slightly as the evening air settled over Aventurine’s apartment, the cold creeping into your bones.

You didn’t complain. You never did. Despite the discomfort of your quiet shivers, you simply curled your arms around yourself, hoping the warmth of your own body would be enough to stave off the cold.

But Aventurine—always observant, always attuned to the smallest details—had noticed. His sharp eyes flicked toward you, noting the way you hugged your arms tighter to your chest. He did not ask, he did not speak aloud, but within moments, you felt his presence beside you.

He draped his coat over your shoulders, the fur lining warm against your skin. You blinked in surprise, raising your head to meet his amused, yet tender, smile.

“Never thought I’d see someone like you let the cold win,” he teased gently, though his tone carried no malice.

You couldn’t help but smile in return, though you still said nothing. Aventurine’s smile deepened, as if he understood your reluctance to voice your discomfort.

“Stay warm, my dear.” he whispered, his hand brushing your hair back with a softness that felt almost too tender for the flamboyant strategist.

As he moved to sit down beside you, his cloak still wrapped around your shoulders, you leaned into him, letting the warmth from both his coat and his presence soothe the cold. No words were needed. With Aventurine, you had learned that sometimes, silence was the most profound way to express affection.

The cold was biting, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of the laboratory. You hadn’t said a word about it, of course. You never did. Your pride was too strong, your desire to not be a burden too ingrained in you. But that didn’t stop the creeping chill from seeping into your skin.

Ratio, ever perceptive despite his sharp and often dismissive nature, had noticed the subtle way your shoulders hunched as you worked alongside him. The shivering that danced along your arms hadn’t escaped his sharp eyes.

He did not comment. There was no question in his tone when he moved from the desk to the shelves, his fingers brushing over vials and medical instruments with precise ease. He returned a moment later with a heated compress, offering it to you without so much as a word.

“Place it here.” he instructed, gesturing to your hands.

You blinked at him, surprise momentarily breaking your usual calm demeanor. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less to care.

Ratio’s eyes met yours—intense, unwavering, yet there was a flicker of something softer behind them. A quiet acknowledgment of your discomfort.

“It’s not weakness,” he added in a rare moment of tenderness. “Sometimes, even the strongest need a little help.”

You didn’t need to speak, but you gave him a small, grateful nod, the warmth from the compress beginning to seep into your body, making the cold feel a little less sharp.

It had become a routine. The cold would set in, and you would remain silent about it. You never asked for his attention, never begged for warmth, but Jing Yuan—calm, calculating, always two steps ahead—had noticed.

The evening had grown cold, and though you tried to remain composed, Jing Yuan’s sharp eyes caught the subtle way you tucked your arms around yourself, the faint shiver that ran through your form.

He didn’t speak a word at first, content to observe from a distance as you tried to maintain your stoic composure. But after a few moments, he stood, slowly walking toward you with the same deliberate pace he always maintained, his golden eyes softening with a quiet understanding.

Without asking, he wrapped a thick blanket around you, his hands brushing over your shoulders as he adjusted it for maximum comfort. His actions were practical, yet there was a gentleness in his touch that spoke volumes.

“You should have said something,” he murmured quietly, his voice carrying no reproach, only a subtle note of care.

You offered a faint smile, though you still didn’t speak, content to let the warmth of the blanket and his presence surround you. Jing Yuan simply nodded, his gaze distant but kind.

“I’m here,” he added softly, his usual authority giving way to something more personal. “Next time, let me know if you’re cold.”

And with that, you knew—without a word—that he would always be there to offer warmth, whether spoken or unspoken.

The cold came as it often did, unannounced and relentless. You tried to ignore it, as you always did, curling up with your thoughts and your work, pretending the biting chill didn’t bother you.

But Jiaoqiu, perceptive as always, saw through your act. His gentle eyes studied you from across the room as he prepared his alchemical concoctions, his hands steady and graceful. When he noticed the subtle tremble of your body, he moved toward you, his expression calm but his intent clear.

Without a word, he produced a thick, soft blanket from one of his cabinets and carefully draped it around your shoulders, ensuring you were warm but not overwhelmed.

“I know you don’t like to ask for help,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “but you don’t need to suffer in silence.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. You hadn’t needed to say anything, yet Jiaoqiu knew exactly what you needed. The warmth from the blanket and his thoughtful gesture melted some of the cold, but it was the warmth of his care that truly made the difference.

And for the first time that day, you let yourself relax, allowing Jiaoqiu’s presence to be the healing you didn’t know you needed.

The cold had always been a silent companion. You never complained about it. You never showed weakness. It wasn’t that you didn’t mind the chill—it was simply a matter of pride. You would endure it silently.

But Sunday, ever the observant leader, had noticed. He saw the way your movements became just a bit stiffer, how your usual calm demeanor seemed to falter as the temperature dropped.

One evening, as you stood near the window of your shared quarters aboard the Astral Express, lost in thought, he approached without a word. You felt the weight of his presence before you heard his soft voice.

“You should’ve said something,” he murmured, his words carrying the authority of a leader, but with the gentleness of someone who truly cared.

Before you could respond, Sunday wrapped his long, elegant coat around you, pulling you gently into his embrace. The warmth of his body, combined with the softness of the fabric, melted the chill in your bones.

“You are not a burden,” he whispered, the quiet conviction in his tone breaking through your usual restraint. “I would have done this sooner if you had let me.”

For the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide your discomfort. Sunday’s embrace, his warmth, was enough to make you forget the cold, not just around you, but inside as well.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hey can I request more from passion for fashion. Maybe with Dan and Danny meeting bane or something? And like maybe realizing that he's their uncle in this universe? Ohh or maybe they don't realize that and just think he's some guy who seems really fond of them and has decided they are his to protect, he could possibly be acting as their neighbor for the time being?

Dan wakes in the most comfortable bed he's ever slept in for the last two decades. A sluggish feeling of laziness comes with that feeling of comfort, so he nearly gives in and closes his eyes again for another nap.

But at the last second, his eyes snap open, and he wills himself to fight against the feeling. His body rebels against his command, trying to go back under, but Dan will not yield. He recognizes the feeling.

Someone is trying to force him into slumber. He may be a dead man walking, but he is no one's helpless prisoner. Reaching deep within himself, Dan grasps around the parts that make him a ghost and warps his form with the burn of his ice-fire.

A familiar sensation washes over him, an ice-fire that builds around his chest and expands down his limbs. It's slightly bothered by the bomb strapped to his core, but it's not enough to stop Dan from burning away whatever they had done to him.

Unlike the drug that the kidnappers gave him a few weeks ago, whatever is in his system isn't overly harmful. It appears that it was intended to put him to sleep so he could actually get it out of his body.

He hasn't shifted into his ghost form the entire time he has been in this universe. It wasn't for the lack of trying, but Clockwork had likely (correctly) assumed that Dan wouldn't help Batman's humanity if he refused to be in his human form, so he locked it near the bomb, and if he tugged on his ghost powers too much, it would trigger the boom.

Dan isn't sure if Danny had the same problem; he never bothered to ask and figured that if he gave a white lie about the multiple cameras everywhere, Danny would be cautious enough not to "Go Ghost" so the idiot wouldn't explode.

The last of foreign sustenance fades into nothing within himself, and the world is suddenly clear. He can concentrate on his surroundings now, frowning at what he saw.

Dan is in a large, luxurious bedroom, fit for a king, with sleek furniture and a black and red color scheme. It resembles a room a villain would use in a modern drama, which is tacky and completely lacking any personal touch.

He was lying on an Alaskan King bed with curtains hung up on the bed frame. To his right is a large screen TV, taking up nearly the entire wall, and various gaming systems are placed underneath it- he's seen some in his fashion trends research. He figured he should know what settings made his outfits pop and what sort of lighting would affect the visual appeal of the fabric. He never had the desire to even touch the gaming systems, though.

To his left is a strangely organized copy of his studio, featuring various mannequins, fabrics that most of which have cost a fortune, and a really nice-looking design table. What really caught his attention, however, was the multiple storage organizers stacked on top of each other: he could spot multiple buttons, threads, glitter, cutting devices, and who knows what else.

It was like a fabric store threw up on that side of the room.

Dan's fingers twitch with the urge to go over there and explore the studio. He dislikes the tidiness; it looks like a museum, and he struggles to work with things in order. He thrives on chaos, and someone completely disregarded that.

A direct insult to his obsession.

Scowling at the studio, now only seeing it as an insult at best, a pathetic attempt to bait him into staying in his cage at worst, Dan leaps to his feet. He feels around the walls, searching for a door. It might be out of sight, since this room had no windows or doors, but there has to be somewhere in and out here.

His fingers run across all the walls, but he does not feel any indents that show there is a doorway. Huffing Dan decided to make his own. Pressing his lips to his right knuckles in a quick kiss for good luck, Dan lets it fly as fast and hard as he can at the wall.

The moment his hand makes contact with the wall, spider-like cracks spread across the surface, followed by a loud bang. The cracks scatter across the surface before it crumbles, falling down like broken cards.

He finds himself looking into a long, dark hallway, with no visible guards. Dan is more insulted that they thought they didn't have to put him under surveillance, so assured that they would not be able to get out of the room.

He steps over the whole, shaking out his fist a little. That was steadier than he was expecting, but nothing he couldn't handle. He looks left, then right, wondering which direction to go.

If Danny were here, he likely would go towards the right, where a spark of light was visible. The brat would justify this decision with an explanation that there was likely a sign indicating the exit. They needed to escape, to regroup, gather information, and only then would they fight the people that did this to them, Danny would say.

Dan goes left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny bolts upwards with a scream of frustration, leaping from his bed and pointing in the general direction his counterpart was known for working on his fashion. "Dan, I know you're doing something stupid! Cut it out!"

It takes him a moment to notice something odd. The first, Danny is cold, which hasn't really happened since coming to Gotham. Yes, it was cloudy, and it rained more, but this felt like he stepped into a freezer instead of walking around Gotham.

The second is the bright light flashing in his face. It's not like they didn't use the lights in their Gotham house, but Dan had so many fabrics flung everywhere in the house that it tended to interfere with the brightness.

And the third, he was not currently pointing dramatically down the hallway of his temporary residence, but instead, he was pointing at a large glass wall. Behind the glass was a man dressed in the weirdest outfit he's seen so far.

A mask with twin peaks at the top and a long cape covered his body like a weird pancho. The man was staring back at him- at least Danny thinks, since the mask blocks the eyes, leaving the man in a white lens stare- without a hint of emotion.

There is a long pause between them before Danny slowly lowers his arm to use it to try to cover his body as best he can. He's not sure why this guy was watching him sleep, but he doesn't think it's for a good reason.

"How are you feeling?" The man asks as Danny slowly lowers himself back onto the bed, scrambling for the blanket —the really soft, fluffy kind that he's sure causes way more warmth than any blanket should.

"What?"

"How are you feeling?" The man repeats. His voice is oddly devoid of emotion

"I'm feeling like you're about to steal my skin." He snarks, curling the blanket up to his chin.

There is a twitch at the man's mouth, as if he's fighting a smile before it smooths over. "I have no use for your skin."

"How dare you. This flawless skin pays my bills."

Another twitch, but this time he can tell that the amusement hasn't slipped away. "Are you not feeling any aches? Sorness?"

Danny narrows his eyes. "Why are you asking?"

"Do you not remember what happened?" The humor is gone now. Storwed away in some emotional vault that Danny knows Jazz would love to break into. The man moves his arm, causing his cape to open and reveal a suit that resembles a blend of spandex and armor.

It's skin-tight, showing off abs, biceps, and leg muscles that anyone back home would kill for. Danny's jaw drops slightly at the display, even if the man is too busy clicking a remote at a wall. A TV lowers itself from who knows where, showing a video of himself being rushed into the glass-wall room by the stranger and a kid in a black hood.

Danny watches himself as his form slowly deteriorates, while the two scramble to plug machines into him. It's like he's watching some of the clones Vlad made fall apart, and it's not until the kid's sword accidentally gets caught on some gas tank. The gas tank is knocked over, breaking upon hitting the ground, and it lets out a stream of white gas strong enough that it flies through the room, somehow covering Danny's half-melted body.

It's easy to tell it's Liquid nitrogen by the sudden frost and ice. There is a moment of genuine panic in the video until Danny's form snaps back into place. The video ends with a man and a child looking at each other in a daze, then rushing out to bring in more tanks like the one he had knocked over.

"Earlier today, you ran to me for help. When we got you back to my house, you collapsed, and your body started melting. We had no idea why, what was happening, or what your situation was. I brought to my cave to try and provide medical assistance- it became obvious that the only thing working was placing you in a low temperature environment." The man explained, distracting body now thankfully covered by his cape again.

It takes Danny's brain a few seconds to process what he said, but when he does, he snaps his head in all directions. They're in a cave, he notices, and he's inside a makeshift freezer with the temperature well in the negatives.

The stranger seems content with letting Danny take all of that in, as his fuzzy mind tries to gather information, when suddenly it all snaps into place.

Leaping to his feet again- and nearly slipping over the edge of it, that has him swinging his arms like a windmill- Danny points accusingly at him, "Batman! You're Batman!"

The man nods once, and Danny lets out a noise that almost sounds like a wild hog releasing a victory cry. Batman stares back impassively, but his shoulders have tensed a bit as Danny scrambles off the bed and scurries towards the glass, pressing his face against it until his nose starts to hurt, his cheeks are flat, still that does nothing to hide his smile.

"I've come to save your humanity, Batman! Have you hugged your children?!"

Batman doesn't respond for a solid minute, allowing Danny's heavy breathing to fill the silence before the man clicks his remote again. This time, the screen displays a woman who looks vaguely familiar, a celebrant of some kind?

"I looked into your mother. I believe she used you as a sacrifice in a death magic ritual-" Batman starts, but Danny steamrolls that boring tale with a stream of emotional good habit tips Jazz had once given him.

"-I know it sounds stupid, but really, if having conversations is tough, writing a letter to yourself or the other person can be a good way to explain how you feel about them."

Batman holds up a hand. " Marina meant well, but the spell she used to try to teleport you off your island. We found this in your chest."

The image changes to one of Clockwork's amulets, and the words die in Danny's mouth. He pats his chest area searching for the ticking sound or sensation he has grown accustomed to.

It's not there.

Batman took out Clockwork's bomb while his body was dissolving. That sentence doesn't even make sense!

Danny's eyes go wide. "Are you a god?"

Batman frowns. "No. I'm not sure where Marina was trying to send you, but it wasn't to me. She was aiming for a death god."

"What? Who's Marina?"

"...Your mother?"

"My mom's name is Madeline. Madline Fenton." Danny pressed himself against the glass further. "Why would you think this Mariana is my mom?"

"She was the one to use a highly illegal and dangerous death ritual. Mariana Fenton is also listed as your mother in the government records of Santa Prisca. Your father's name was also listed: it's Eduardo Dorrance, better known as Bane."

He said that last part gravely, like Danny would be shocked by the news that Bane had supposedly fathered him, but Danny can only blink slowly. "My dad's name is Jack."

Batman's face doesn't twitch anymore. Instead, he frowns. Deeply. Concern. "Was that the man who raised you and your brother?"

"Dan was raised by the screams of his enemies," Danny responds without missing a beat. "Never mind him. We need to focus on you. Have you ever been in love? Love is the strongest magic in the world, right behind the power of friendship. There is nothing more human than the power of love."

Batman opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by a giant boom that shakes the whole cave. He spins around, three throwing knives suddenly in between his fingers, and Danny notices he stands in front of him, almost as if Batman were going to protect him.

From behind the muscular back, Lord have mercy, Danny can't see what caused the explosion, but he can definitely hear it.

"My King! I have come to rescue you!" A woman screeches in a curious accent. It reminds him of old Hollywood, the kind that was in black and white and was filmed in the 1920s. Her voice echoes through the cave, and his head comes from everywhere and nowhere.

Danny claps his hands over his ears, trying to drown her out, because she's far too long. "Who are you?!"

"It is I, Gotham!"

The word explodes into darkness as Batman flings his knives.

Danny yelps when the glass walls shatter, the cold air escaping as a being of fog rushes at him, grabbing him as solid arms would and dragging him over the ledge of a nearby railing. He falls into the cave's abyss, screaming at the top of his lungs.

[kamisobsessed]

Let Them Look

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only! SMUT! Semi-Public (in front of a window), Language, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Oral (F Receiving), Pet Names, Choking, Slapping, Soldier Boy (he's a warning), Creampie, no use of y/n.

Summary: Ben needs to show everyone who you really belong to.

A/N: smut prompt #2 from this prompt list requested by @jays-bonnie-on-the-side

masterlist — taglist

It was another Vought party. You stand nearby the bar in your black dress looking around the party. You were a supe too, a member of the Payback team, but you weren't as popular as some of your teammates, such as the TNT Twins or Black Noir. And especially not as popular as the team leader, Soldier Boy or his supposed girlfriend, Crimson Countess.

You and Soldier Boy, Ben, have had your ups and downs. You're not one for letting someone walk all over you, so when he gives you a hard time, you dish it right back. Yet deep down, you can't help but find him extremely attractive.

You were sipping a drink, just observing the party when a handsome man walks over to you.

"Don't tell me a pretty little thing like you is all alone on a fine night like tonight?" The man says, leaning against the bar next to you.

"Well, I'm not alone now," You reply with a small smirk, turning to face the man next to you.

"No, you sure aren't," the man replies with a sly grin, "Name's Dan" he says, holding his hand out to shake.

You give him your name as he shakes your hand.

"So, can I buy you a drink?" Dan asks.

"By all means, I'm not one to turn down a free drink," you say, gesturing to the bar.

Dan waives the bartender over to get you a drink.

You and Dan sit at the bar talking for about half an hour, enjoying the drinks and each other's company.

"So, sweetheart, what do you say we get out of here, hm?" He smirks.

"Lead the way," you smirk back. He takes your hand and guides you out of the party.

Little did you know, Ben was watching your entire interaction with Dan. When he saw you leave with him, he exucsed himself from the girls who were surrounding him and followed you and Dan out of the party.

What he found was Dan and you in the hallway outside of the party. Dan had you pinned against the wall as the two of you were making out.

Ben walks over to you both and he pulls Dan off of you. "Get the fuck away from her!"

"Hey! What the hell man?!" Dan says, defensively.

"Get lost. Now." Ben says, narrowing his eyes at Dan.

"What the hell is your problem?!" You snap at Ben.

His shoulders tense, his anger rising at your words. He takes another step closer, towering over you.

"My problem is you. Flirting with some random guy at the party. Letting him kiss you." He can't help the possessive edge in his voice.

"Why the hell do you care what the fuck I do?!" You can't believe his audacity. It's not like you're his, no matter how hot you think he is.

"I just do, alright?!" Ben wasn't going to admit that he felt a pang of jealousy seeing you with that guy.

You let out a scoff, "So what? I'm not allowed to live my life? You don't control me, Ben," you say, standing your ground, stepping closer to him.

He can feel his anger rising with every defiant word that comes out of your mouth. He steps even closer, towering over you.

"Don't test me." There's a dangerous edge to his voice now, a clear warning.

You glare up at him, "Or what?"

He grabs your arm and pulls you into a nearby room, a room that overlooks the party guests who are outside.

Ben turns to face you as he steps toward you, backing you against the wall.

He takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to look at him. "I don't want you goin' around flirting with other men, understand?" He says, his voice low and rather demanding.

You turn your chin from his grasp, "You can't control what I do. I don't belong to you."

His jaw clenches tighter. He knew that was true, you didn't belong to him. Yet. He grabs your arms pinning you to the wall.

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll want nothing more than to belong to me, doll." The words come out possessive, like a growl.

He finally lets go of your arm, but only to move his hand up to your throat. His grip is loose, but enough to keep you pinned against the wall.

"You better remember that next time you're out there slutting around with other guys." His voice is low and dangerous, his entire body radiating with possessiveness and jealousy.

You can't help the wave of pleasure that washes over you, causing your breath to hitch from the feeling of his hand around your throat and his possessive words.

He sees the hitch in your breath and a small, almost feral smirk crosses his lips.

"You like that, don't you?" He squeezes your neck gently, his eyes never leaving yours, "Being pinned here like this? Knowing I have complete control over you."

"Shut up," You mumble, knowing there's no way you could lie your way out of this one, not with the way your body is betraying how you really feel.

He chuckles at your mumbled response, clearly enjoying the way he's got you pinned there, "Can't deny it, can you?"

He leans in closer, his face just inches away from yours, "You like it when I get possessive. When I take charge. You like it when I make you fall into submission, make you beg," He leans to your ear, "You like being my good girl," He purrs into your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and he smirks, "See, you just needed a little push, huh baby doll? C'mere, want you to see somethin'," he removes his hand from your neck and takes your arm. He pulls you over to the nearby window.

"See down there? All those guys? They'd all love a chance to be with you. But that'll never happen," he says, moving the pieces of my hair off my shoulder, tracing his fingers along my neck, "you know why, baby doll?"

You feel another shiver down your spine as goosebumps run through your body, "Why?" You manage to breathe out, almost breathlessly.

He traces his fingers along your neck til his hand comes to your chin, forcing you to look at him, "Because you're mine," he growls "Understand?"

You nod your head, his hand still gripping your chin.

"Words, baby doll, need to hear you say it. Who do you belong to?"

"You, I belong to you," You manage to say, feeling the warmth inside you, the wetness pooling between your legs.

"Good girl," he says lowly as he moves to stand behind you. He leans in, his breath fanning your ear as he presses his chest to your back, "Gonna make sure you never forget it," he mumbles, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck.

He starts off gentle but his kisses become rougher as he nips and bites at your skin, leaving a trail of bruises.

"T-the people down there," you say, looking out the window, "they can see us."

"So? Let them look," he murmurs against your skin. "I'm gonna show every damn bastard down there that you're mine, and no one messes with what's mine," he growls into your ear, gripping your hips tightly.

He cups your chin with his hand, turning your head to look at him. His eyes are burning with desire, "Come here."

He pulls you away from the window and pushes you onto the nearby desk, his body pressed between your legs.

"Gonna make every fucker jealous that you're mine and not theirs," he says lowly as he leans above you, gripping your hips with his hands.

He doesn't wait for a response, his lips crashing down onto yours in a rough, hungry kiss. His body presses you further onto the desk, his one hand sliding up to grip your wrists to keep them pinned above your head.

Your body immediately reacts to the kiss, moaning into his mouth, your hips trying to arch up for some sort of friction, but his hand keeps your hips pinned down.

He reaches for your the hem of your dress, his hands fisting in the fabric as he starts to pull it up. "I need to see more of you," He says, his voice gruff with desire as he pulls your dress up, exposing your black lace panties.

"Fuck," He says, his voice deep and gruff, "You're so gorgeous."

He can barely contain himself, his desire for you taking over, "I need to taste you, "He whispers, his lips finding your neck, "Every inch of you."

You moan softly as he trails kisses down your neck, across your chest, and down your stomach.

He finally reaches the waistband of your underwear, his hands toying with the material. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Lift your hips," He says, tapping your hip with his hand to get you to lift up.

You lift your hips up, watching his every movement with nothing but desire and arousal in your gaze.

He tugs off your underwear, leaving you completely naked beneath him. His eyes rake over your body, taking in every inch.

“Damn…” He curses under his breath, his hands gripping your thighs. He kneels between your legs, spreading them further apart, "You’re so beautiful.”

“I want to taste you.” He says, his voice low and gravelly, "I want to make you come apart," His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place, "But you don't deserve that yet. Wanna hear you beg. Beg me to taste you."

"P-please," You choke out, "Fuck- Need...need your mouth on me, taste me, please, Ben"

He can hear the need in your voice, the desperation with which you’re begging him. It only makes him want you more, more than he’s ever wanted anyone before.

“Damn…” He says lowly, looking up at you from between your legs. He grips your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, "I’m gonna make you cum so hard, baby doll."

He doesn't waste any more time as he quickly latches his mouth to your clit, sucking and nibbling at it.

"A-ah...Ben-" You moan out, gripping the sides of the desk as your hips arch

He moves his tongue between your dripping folds, tasting every drop of you as he holds your hips in place with his hands.

His tongue darts in and out of your entrance as he eats you like he's been starving for weeks.

"Oh fuck Ben, don't stop," You moan out, feeling your climax approaching.

Ben didn't plan on stopping, he wants to feel you come on his mouth, to see you fall apart for him. He continues to tongue fuck your cunt, pulling you closer to your orgasm.

"Ben...ah...fuck I'm gonna cum-" You moan as you reach your peak and fall apart on the desk as he laps up every last drop of your orgasm.

"Fuck baby doll...you taste so fuckin' delicious," He says, coming up from between your lege, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You lay back on the desk, catching your breath, your grip on the desk loosening as you go to adjust your dress

Ben stops you, grabbing your wrists, "ah ah...I'm not done with you yet, doll." He pulls you up onto your wobbly legs, turning you around and bending you over the desk.

Ben begins to undo his pants singlehandedly as his other hand grips your hip.

"Every fucker downstairs can look up here and they're gonna see who you belong to," he says holding you against the desk, "Ain't that right, doll?"

You nod your head against the desk with a soft hum, the pleasure still coursing through your veins as you still come down from your high.

"Gonna fill this pussy up so well, every goddamn man is gonna wish they had a chance to fuck this pussy, but it's all mine," he growls, gripping the skin of your ass with his hands, giving the right cheek a firm smack.

You whimper a moan at the sensation. You need him so bad, "Please Ben, need you in me."

He leans down, his chest against your back as he presses kisses along your skin.

"God I love it when you beg for me, doll. What is it you want, hm? Want me to show everyone you're mine? Want me to fill up this pussy so full you'll never want another man's cock inside you?" He murmurs against your skin.

His words make you shiver with pleasure, "Y-yes...make me yours, Ben, please make me yours."

He has his pants tugged down, his cock out and dripping with precum. He holds you down, bent over against the desk as he runs his cock through your folds.

He suddenly thrusts into you, your pussy fulling sheathing his cock as he bottoms out, gaining a loud, choked moan from you.

"Fuck baby doll, you're so fuckin' tight," he groans out, his hands digging into your hips as he begins to thrust into you.

"Oh fuck- Ben-" You moan as you grasp the desk once more.

His hand snakes around you, wrapping around your neck as he pulls you up so your back is to his chest as he pounds up into you.

"So. Fucking. Good." He grunts with every thrust, his hand gripping tighter around your neck.

You're completely lost in the feeling of him pounding deep inside you, the pleasure building up again.

"Ben, f-fuck, y-y-yes," you strangle a moan as he continues driving into you at a fast rate.

"Takin' my cock so well, baby doll. Fuck, your pussy feels so good around me," He groans, attaching his lips to your neck, his hand still holding its grasp around your neck.

You feel yourself getting closer to release again, your hand coming up to his arm, gripping it.

"You gonna cum on my cock, doll? Cum for me, let me feel you," He mumbles into your neck, his hot breath against your ear as he continues thrusting up into you, his other hand reaching around to rub fierce circles on your clit.

You feel your climax hit as you clench around him, your body trembling in his arms as you cum hard on his cock.

He groans as you clench around him, "Good girl, s'good f'me baby," He continues to thrust into you, "M'gonna fill your pussy up baby doll, gonna make you walk around the rest of the party with my cum drippin' from your sweet pussy."

His thrusts become sloppier as he lets your neck go, bending you back down over the desk, gripping your hips tight.

"Fuck, doll, you look s'good bent over for me. Love your fuckin' ass," he says as he squeezes the skin of your ass before giving it a slap, making you gasp as he continues to sloppily thrust into you.

"Fuck" He groans as he slams into you one more time, filling your cunt up with his seed.

"Goddamn baby doll...that was fuckin' incredible," He mumbles, rubbing your hips gently as he kisses your shoulder blade.

He slowly pulls out of you, reaching down to tug your underwear back up, "You're gonna walk around the rest of the night with soaked panties, all full of me."

He tugs your dress back down before helping you stand, turning you to face him. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle in contrast to his previous actions.

You glance out the window, silently hoping that no one just saw what you two had just done.

He sees you glancing out the window and he places his finger under your chin to turn your head to meet his gaze, "You're mine, baby doll. All mine."

A/N: can you believe this is my first smut of my husband (aka soldier boy) what have i even been doing with my life?

tags: @animelucky @mystic-writings @magster196 @soldierboysdoll @caplanbuckybarnes @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @mostlymarvelgirl @chevroletdean @waynes-multiverse @winchesterwild78

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[viilan]

i’m just thinking of a danny phantom x dc au where reader is phantom and is bruce bio kid, but with a side of yandere batfamily just image.

tw: death mention, ig?

reader is gender neutral !!

* You know the universe where dan exist and how he came to exist? what if that happens. what if you couldn’t stop them dying one by one, or perhaps it was just the family, anyway, you have to move. don’t ask me how you feel out your bruce kid, but you are shipped out there

* despite being phantom, a superhero. you still fear what your future hold. you heard of bruce wayne and his family, many different thing and you don’t know what to think

* you just hope he was nice

* your first day to the mansion was fucking awful. you were pick up by a private jet which was cool, and bruce wayne was ,, nice but every attempt of conversation fell flat, he was more focus on the computer and you couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.

* when you left the plane, the whole place was covered by press which put you on edge. bruce just look at you, pulling you close. “keep your head down and walk fast, ( reader ).” before brisk walking you to a car.

* “alfred, tell me what happened.” he spoked, not even focus on how mindblogging that was.

* the butler, who you assume was alfred start to drive. “everything been fixed, i’m sure you should focus on your certain task instead of that.” you watch as bruce stiffen slightly and he look at you, regret flashing against his face.

* “i’m sorry about that, (y/n). it been a hectic day.”

* you couldn’t rest the urge to scoff, looking at him with a unamused expression.

* “i had a urgent matter to trend to,” he explained, clearly choosing his word ever so carefully. you shifted, a sour taste in your mouth. “it fine.” you murmured.

* bruce look at you with a expression you couldn’t read. “enough of that, how are you feeling, after everything-“

* “i’m as fine as i could be, with the whole dead family thing,” you said. , he just look at you with a expression you couldn’t decipher. “i guess we have that in common.” you tried to joke, watching as his face sour and you tense.

* “shit, fuck. i’m sorry- i didn’t mean- like that.” you mention. rubbing a hand over your face. a deep red covering your face. “i guess i shouldn’t be a comedian, huh?” you wonder what jazz would say if you were in your shoes, she probably would make him cry.

* the drive back was silent after that, despite your awkward rambling, you just choose to be quiet after a fifth apology, looking outside the window. you inched closer. curious about your new home, you could sense the ectoplasm, this could be fun at least, you could put your energy into fighting and maybe meet the batman.

* the door open and you jump back, looking up at a older man who give you a smile. “we’re here.” bruce slide out with ease and you fumble after him, tired beyond word could describe.

* you let them lead, barely being able to step into the door before your ghost sense went off, you look around. not spotting anything out of the usual but your hair stand on end.

* “let me take your bag,” the old man spoke, you flinch, grip tighten before you realize and hand them over. “oh, uh thank you..”

* “alfred, i’m the house butler, young master.” he smile at you, it didn’t put you on ease. “show her around when i tend to this.” bruce spoke, not even sparing you a glance.

* “… i fucked up with that dead family comment; didn’t i?” you asked, passing a glance to alfred, who only crack a smile. “let me lead you to your room, i’m sure you want to rest.” he lead you down hallways, it seem like a maze. “if you have any request, let me know.” he spoked. “i will leave you be to unpacked.”

* you give him a smile, forced but he took it to leave. you look around the room curiously, it was quite big and spacious. void of life. you grabbed your bags and dump them on the bed. looking over your small collection of things from home. everything else was gone, destroy in the fire or seized by the government. you were glad you destroy whatever you could which was almost everything.

* your things mostly consisted of the other things. you had some of jazz notebooks, her stupid bear. you have some of their clothes, blueprints and some weapons. the fenton thermos was broken and you need to fix it just in case. tears burn at your eyes and you sniffle softly. “how the fuck am im gonna do this?” you whispered, gathering up the blueprint and weapons, sniffing as you went to find a hiding spot, you found a spot in the wall, using your power to put them away before you sit down, tears pouring down your face.

* you never felt so alone.

[ please please tell me if you want more because i crave attention and need people to share my ideas withs ]

[ninyard]

thinking about Renee colossally crashing out. one of the upperclassmen walking into a room and noticing her staring out the window with her jaw clenched, her fists balled up with a barely controlled shake, her eyes dark and distant. she doesnt look up at them when they enter, ignoring their chirpy greeting. she opts for the kindest “please leave” that she can muster, but the cracks are there, and it doesn’t feel like Renee behind the words at all. Andrew has no interest in answering when Dan knocks on his door, but then she says “it’s Renee,” and he’s already pushed her out of the way to get to her.

even when Andrew walks in, her composure is in tatters, and she’s quiet when she asks him to leave her alone. but Andrew is Andrew, and he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. What is it? he asks, but he’s not asking what it’s about. he’s not asking what happened to put her in such a state - he’s asking about the feeling, whether it’s anger or fear that’s taken its hold. she looks at him, and if he weren’t himself, he’d step back, to create distance between the Natalie in her eyes and his body. she asks him again to leave, but he asks her to go somewhere else. she’s holding a cross pendant between her fingers like she’s going to snap it.