Adds honey to his tea for a little sweetness, snores shake the house, heavy sleeper when you’re home, just splayed out on top of you, almost immovable.
When he wakes up and doesn’t feel you pressed against him, his mood turns sour. Poor grumpy bear, where’s his little birdie? Maybe you went to run an errand or two, got called into work, doesn’t really matter. He’s lets out a loud sigh of displeasure, slowly forcing himself up to take a cold shower. He’s irritated, and the only place he wants to be is in with you.
He’ll try to take it easy, still a bit groggy from sleep as he drags his feet throughout the halls, starting a kettle. He squints at the clock, shaking his head when he sees it’s 06:47AM on your shared day off. You must’ve felt a bit restless, needing to do something to settle your nerves.
He ends up settling on the balcony, blanket draped over his shoulders as he sips at his black tea, watching the clouds roll in as he waits for you. After a while, he sees you in the distance, giving a wry smile as he notices you’re in his jumper, the hood pulled forward to cover most of your face.
You walk in, pulling your shoes off quietly, hanging John’s jumper on the rack. He’s already up and leaning against the glass door to the balcony as he stares you down.
“Rough night?” He asks, voice low and sonorous.
You jump, eyes darting to meet his before instantly softening.
“Did I wake you? Just needed to clear my head. I’m really sorry-“
He raises his hand, head shaking as he interrupts.
“Nothing to be sorry for, are you okay?” He asks.
Watching you shift from foot-to-foot, he steps forward and gently leads you to the bedroom, slowly taking off your clothes to change you into the oversized ones you wear to bed- his.
He pulls you close, irritation of your missing presence instantly melting away as he holds you, breathing in your scent, rubbing his face against your wrists, then your neck, eventually your face as you let out a soft laugh.
He’s careful and slow in his movements, offering sweet words and asking about what you saw on your time out. He knows you’ll tell him your actual concern eventually, but right now? He’s in no rush, just wants you to feel good, safe.
That moment when you’re a bard and the sweet wimpy paladin you’re dating pulls you aside after a battle and tells you he’s worried about you throwing yourself into danger and he loves you and wants to take your relationship to the next level.
And then he starts kissing you on the lips and slowly trailing down your neck and then he BITES YOU and starts draining the blood from your body telling you taste so sweet. And it turns out he’s been a vampire this whole time, and then he kidnaps you and takes you down into a maze of catacombs and then puts you on an operating table and cuts you open and RIPS YOUR SOUL OUT while your still awake and he tells you that you’re perfect and you’re exactly what he needed. And he betrays you and discards you outside, leaving you to bleed out and die. Fuck dude. He just got like 100X HOTTER 😫
Saw Lil King Trashmouth and his husband Gary on my way to work. Their place in Pac Heights is cuuuute #Alriiiiiight #LilKingTrashmouth #AndHisHusbandGary (at San Francisco, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Butj4Lcg0xQ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=4jeqqxh3aanf
TW: murder (i mean,, yeah. but like,,, not graphic!!!!)
ao3 ; wattpad
masterlist ; next chapter
CHAPTER TWELVE:
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER:
“Are you paying attention, Mr. Howell?”
Dan was not. He currently had something rather annoying stuck between his teeth and was putting all of his effort and attention into removing it. Finally, finally, it came loose on his thumb nail, and Dan eyed it with disgust before flicking it to the floor. He looked up at his teacher.
Mr. Parson was an old, balding, and easily aggravated man. He hated Dan’s guts, mostly because Dan wasn’t the nicest kid around. He slept during class, never did any of his homework, and only passed his tests because he already knew all of the shit anyway. Mr. Parson seemed to think it was funny to give Dan bad grades; Dan thought it was just as funny to persuade the man not to.
Yes, Dan was was a star student. A student with a record of straight A’s, the occasional, believable B thrown in there, because Dan didn’t want his achievements to look like overachievements. He was probably the only student with near perfect grades who every teacher seemed to despise. Of course, it was looked down upon for a teacher to outright, openly show their hatred for a student, so they did their best to hide it—their best was just really shit.
“Of course,” Dan lied. Mr. Parson glared at him, his hand clenched infinitesimally around the paper he was holding.
“Care to enlighten me then?”
Dan huffed through his nose, annoyance flickering through him. He didn’t have time for this shit. He had much, much better things to do—everything that happened after school hours was more attention worthy for him. But still, everyone in the class was looking at him now, some with raised eyebrows, others with distaste shining in their eyes. Not many people liked Dan, but he could live with that.
He let his eyes flick over to his seat partner’s paper. Her name was Michelle. She took diligent notes and was absolutely terrified of him.
“You were just telling us about the Black Plague,” Dan drawled, and Mr. Parson rolled his eyes. Dan squinted and leaned closer to Michelle’s notebook. “Also known as the Bubonic Plague, the Black Death, and…” he turned to Michelle. “What does that say?”
“La Peste.”
“La Peste,” Dan repeated, looking up at his history teacher triumphantly. Mr. Parson looked about ready to murder. “French, for the plague,” Dan informed him.
“I know what it means, Mr. Howell.”
Dan gave an elegant shrug. “Just making sure, sir.”
Grudgingly, Mr. Parson continued on with class, and slowly the rest of the students turned back around in their seats to pay attention. Michelle was practically quivering at Dan’s side, and he turned to smirk at her.
“Thanks for the help,” he purred, leaning closer to her, his breath washing across her ear. He saw her jaw tighten.
“Any time, Dan,” she said stiffly.
Dan leaned back in his seat, slouching down comfortably and looking up at the board, already bored again. He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth and triumphed when he felt another piece of food stuck in between two—this would be a challenge of the ages!
—
Dan whistled as he walked down the sidewalk, the final bell having just rung. He had to walk to school, seeing as his mother got up early every morning to go to work, and otherwise he would have to ride the bus. Dan didn’t like the bus. And it wasn’t like he could drive himself yet either, seeing as he was only fifteen, though everyone else in his grade could drive by now.
“Why don’t you ask for it back, loser?” someone demanded, loud enough to be heard but not close enough to be seen. Curiously, Dan kept his eyes peeled as he strolled down the sidewalk, not bothering to pick up his pace.
“Not gonna say anything?” the same voice taunted. Dan turned his head as he passed an alley, immediately spotting two figures. The speaker was a man named Bryce, only recognizable because he was known for being the bully around Clarington High. He had too many muscles for someone his age and much too big of an ego for an idiot. The other boy was recognizable for being in Dan’s grade, Piers.
Both Bryce and Piers turned to look at Dan when he appeared in the opening of the alley.
“Beat it, dweeb,” Bryce snapped.
“Dweeb?” Dan repeated incredulously. “What kind of shitty movies are you pulling your lines from?” Bryce looked stumped. Dan felt inclined to believe that the man’s brain was the size of a walnut.
Piers was also glaring at Dan, though technically, he should be looking at him with adoration for being his savior. Piers always glared at Dan when he saw him though, not that Dan could figure out why. Sure, he’d taken Piers’ voice away, but there was no way Piers knew that—Dan had told him to forget, hadn’t he?
“Now go home and forget you ever saw me!”
But ever since that night, Piers had very clearly hated Dan’s guts, even if he’d never said anything about it. His friend, Carl, had moved away mere months after the incident. Dan had heard that his family was distraught over the new mutism of their boy, and that they’d hoped a change of scenery would help him.
Maybe Dan had messed up that night. Maybe, telling Piers to forget he’d ever saw Dan wasn’t enough, maybe he still remembered hearing him, or something. Or maybe he just knew that Dan hadn’t spoke for a long time, and then suddenly, he was speaking whenever he wanted, while Piers found himself completely unable to do the same.
Still, even if he did have an inkling that it was Dan who’d done this to him, he’d never alerted anybody. Not that there was anyone likely to believe him, anyway.
“Listen,” Bryce finally said to Dan, taking a step away from Piers and towards him. “If you don’t—”
“No, you listen,” Dan abruptly interrupted. Bryce did. He shut up and listened. “If you don’t stop bullying people you’re gonna regret it. Now go home.” Bryce nodded. He walked away from Piers and past Dan, exiting the alley. Piers was still glaring at Dan. Dan bowed to him, nice, low, and mocking. When he stood back up, he winked and continued on his way.
—
Dan had been having plenty of fun lately. He’d invented a few neat things, first off. He’d made these cool little contact lenses, based off the idea of a cat’s eyes—able to see incredibly well in the dark. He’d even made them look like the actual eyes of a cat, mainly for aesthetic purposes. He’d also been designing this kind of fabric. He hadn’t gotten very far with it yet, but he was trying to make it more resistant and resilient than other fabrics. He’d also created a sort of prototype of a pair of shoes—they lent strong support to his ankles, and along with what little of the fabric he’d begun to successfully make, wrapped around his knees and waist, he could jump from much higher places than most people. And he usually landed safely, too.
All of this was because he found it was fun to sneak out in the middle of the night. He tricked and scared people he saw, all the while brainstorming how to better his own costume. With the contact lenses he could see magnificently, and with those hearing devices he’d created back in sixth grade, now changed to look like a pair of cat’s ears, he could hear anyone coming from a block away. And he wore a mask, of course, though it was hard to find any that didn’t look completely stupid. Eventually he’d have to make his own.
And so Dan waited for something to do. His midnight escapades had started sometime in seventh grade. After Phil moved away, Dan had stopped being so quiet all the time, he’d started using his voice, started talking. He’d started asking for what he wanted, and getting it.
At first, Phil had sent him a few letters. Dan had ignored them of course—he cringed now, thinking back on his ten year old self, telling Phil he loved him. Obviously that’d just been a childhood crush, an infatuation.
Dan suddenly perked up, hearing something out of his left ear. He turned his head to look, although there was nothing to see yet, the sound still far off. And so he waited.
He could hear what sounded like breathing—loud breathing, the panted breaths of someone running. Dan stood up on the store roof he was currently atop of, trying to get a better look. As he watched, a tall, thin figure came pelting around the corner, long hair flying behind her.
And then a man came barreling around the corner as well, his strides long. He was much faster than the girl, and he was gaining on her, clearly close to catching her. The girl glanced behind herself and let out a small moan of despair, trying to run even faster than she already was.
Dan jumped off the roof, sprinting to intercept the two. He’d been running a lot lately, and because of this he was much faster than many others, his regular practice helping him to improve. He stopped in between two stores, watching as the girl and man quickly approached. The girl’s breaths were clear to distinguish and sounded panicked while the man’s were just loud and labored.
As the girl ran past, Dan shot a hand out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back into the alley. She tried to scream, but Dan covered her mouth, sending her a quick, intense look. She looked older than him, maybe by a year or two, though he’d never seen her before.
“Quiet for a moment,” he instructed. She nodded, though she had no choice but to.
The man ran past, Dan now leaning comfortably against the building beside him, the girl stood at his side.
“Whatchya doin'?” Dan asked. The man came to a hasty stop, turning to face Dan, panting idiotically. Apparently he hadn’t noticed Dan reach out to grab the girl, probably thanks to his black-clad outfit.
“Hey!” the man grunted, making a lunge towards them. Swiftly, Dan stepped backwards, using his hand to shove the girl back as well. She sent him a furtive look. Dan tugged his crappy mask tighter onto his face.
“Hello,” Dan greeted. “Whatchya doin’?” he repeated.
“Give me the girl and I’ll let you get out of this alive,” the man growled. Dan quirked an eyebrow, pursed his lips.
“Tempting,” he said. The man growled, and Dan grimaced. What was he, a dog? “How about, you walk away, and I let you live.” Dan punctuated this with a winning smile. The man, apparently not appreciating the finery of Dan’s smile, lunged for him.
Dan darted out of the way. He grabbed the girl, and jumped. This was a new part of his shoes he was working on—it didn’t always work, a flaw that he’d have to fix, but thankfully it worked this time. He jumped much higher than one normally would, and he stumbled onto the thin window ledge, a good way above the hulking brute of a man’s head.
“You wait here for a bit,” Dan said, giving the girl his winning smile. She, at least, knew a winning smile when she saw one, and so she nodded. Dan jumped back onto the ground.
“Give me the girl!” the man roared.
“That girl?” Dan asked. He pointed at her, feigning confusion.
Apparently, the attacker didn’t like to play games, or have fun, or appreciate sarcasm. This was looking to be a boring battle indeed.
Although normally, Dan didn’t fight people hand to hand. Usually he stole something, or picked on someone, and ran away laughing as they chased him, managing to escape them just in time. He figured that that was a bit more fun, rather than doing something just because it was right, but he wasn’t about to let some girl get kidnapped right in front of him.
The man’s fist swung towards Dan, and he ducked out of the way just in time, only to be tricked. The man’s other fist was apparently waiting for him, and Dan was struck in the stomach, the air punched from his lungs. Dan glared. He hadn’t wanted to use his persuasion just yet, but he wasn’t about to let himself get beat up either. He often returned home bloody and bruised, but he wasn’t going to let himself get pounded by someone way above his skill level. Maybe that’s why he kept running from (and sometimes fighting) every person he managed to piss off—he was doing some kind of training. He was training to be bigger and better some day, for what, he didn’t yet know.
“Back off,” Dan snapped, as the man came in to punch Dan once again. He did so immediately, and Dan stood up straight, his stomach throbbing. “Tell me why you were chasing this girl.”
“Pretty girls make a lot of money to the right buyers.”
Dan curled his lip—this guy was fucking disgusting.
“Practice fighting with me,” Dan instructed. “But don’t hit me.” And so, without the pain, Dan practiced with the wretched man. He saw where he was sloppy, where he wasn’t quick enough, where he was, in fact, too quick. He saw where he needed to step, how he needed to swing, where he needed to move. And then he grew bored, of course.
“You know the river down south of here?” Dan inquired. The man nodded. Dan nodded back. “Go drown yourself in it.” And the man walked away.
Feeling sweaty and sore, Dan looked back up to the windowsill to retrieve the girl—but she was gone.
“Ah fuck,” Dan muttered. He thought back over what he’d told her—Be quiet for a moment, wait here for a bit. “Fuck,” Dan repeated. Of course, both “a moment” and “a bit” were short amounts of time, but he hadn’t wanted to command something too binding of her in case he forgot to undo it. But this was just rude! Here he was, taking time out of his day to make sure she wasn’t kidnapped by some creep, and she didn’t even stick around to thank him!
Muttering to himself, Dan slunk out of the alleyway and down the street. He noticed a convenience store still open, and with nothing better to do, he stepped inside.
“The fuck?” said the man at the cash register. He eyed Dan, from his black (high tech) boots to his cat ears. “The fuck you wearing cat ears for?” he said.
“You’re asking about the ears?” Dan said. “Not the mask?”
“Robbers don’t wears cat ears,” the man said. Dan cocked his head.
“This one does,” he decided. And then he walked up to the counter and held out his hand.
“Yeah right,” the man laughed. “I’m not scared of a little boy in a cat costume.”
Dan jumped—this time, his boots worked again, which was really quite good, as otherwise he would’ve been embarrassed. He jumped all the way up towards the high ceiling, only to land with a crash on the counter. Now the man’s eyes were wide, and with a quick movement he slapped his hand down on some button behind him. Immediately, alarms started blaring throughout the shop, and Dan cried out, the sound magnified in his ears.
“You just had to call the police, didn’t you?” Dan snarled. Not bothering to wait for a response, he kicked the man in the head and stomped on his cash register. It flew open, revealing the day’s worth of money, and Dan snatched it up.
“One day a lot of people are gonna be scared of these ears,” Dan said, walking languidly towards the door. “You’d have been smart to be one of them.”
The man was staring at Dan, bleary eyed, and Dan waved before taking that final step out of the building. He started running after that, but it didn’t take long for the police to find him. Honestly, there was barely anyone out on the streets, and no one was dressed quite like him.
“You’re under arrest!” a cop declared through a megaphone. Yes, Dan was currently surrounded by cops, all of them holding guns pointed his way. Their cars were flashing with red and blue lights, and Dan was squinting in the chaos of it all—but that did not mean he was under arrest. He debated telling them this himself, along with telling them to just go ahead and leave him alone, but he didn’t see where the fun in that would be.
“Stand down, Black Cat!” one officer commanded. Dan wrinkled his nose.
“That sounds lame,” he decided.
“Put your hands up, Catman!” another called. Dan just shook his head.
“No, that one’s lame too.”
There was a loud pop as someone fired off a gun, which Dan was just barely able to jump out of the way of.
“Don’t shoot me!” he shouted in shock, and breathed a sigh of relief when they all put down their guns. Honestly, he wouldn’t be able to deal with getting shot.
Still, Dan hummed thoughtfully. He did need a name, these policemen were right. But Catman just sounded dumb, like a boring imitation of Batman or something. And Black Cat was just plain shit—he wasn’t some idiot little kid, he needed a cool name, one that didn’t make him sound like a fucking twelve year old. No, he needed something better.
“Call me… The Panther,” Dan decided suddenly. That was better, right? It was a black cat, after all, but it didn’t sound nearly as stupid as just outright calling himself it. And Panthers were known for being strong and fast, for stalking prey and climbing everywhere. They were pretty badass. Dan could be a panther.
“Stand down, Panther,” one police officer instructed. Dan grinned.
Hey Dan! I know it’s been a while, and you’re probably even wondering how I got your email (your mum gave it to my mum who gave it to me, not that I asked)(not that I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known she’d had it) but how are you? How’s school?
Alright, that sounds like bullshit, yeah. But I’m just kind of worried for you—I saw on the news that there’s some kind of bad guy attacking people in our neighborhood at night. Or—your neighborhood, I guess. My old neighborhood.
I just wanted to make sure you’re safe and stuff. Apparently he’s been going by “the Panther”, and some news stations are going so far as to call him some kind of super villain or something. They say he’s somehow really persuasive and that he has freaky gadgets and things. I guess just if you see him, run the other way. I attached a few pictures of him in case you don’t know what he looks like, but apparently he wears all black and is distinguishable by his cat ears (and cat eyes!!!).
Stay safe Dan, I miss you! Maybe I can come back to visit some day or something.
