#Darkest Frights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starogeorgina · 11 months

Text

Twin flames

Warning: Swearing, age gap

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.01

Notes: Viserys and Alicent’s children have been aged up to be aged 20+

Tears trickle down your face as you try to stifle a sob with the sleeve of your dress. The satin material covering your wrists appears darker than the rest due to your dampening it by wiping your eyes. If you weren’t in the library, you would have ripped the sapphire dress to shreds. Like most of your clothing, your husband had it specially made to match the gem in his eye, rubbing salt on the wound that was your sham marriage.

It was moments like these that you wished time could stop, at least for a few moments, to fully decompress the events that had taken place within the last twenty-four hours.

The previous night, you’d laid awake waiting for Aemond to return from riding on Vhagar, and when he eventually did, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. It was a telltale sign he’d been with his whore; not that you cared much about who he stuck his cock into; it was simply because you had an agreement that on his part he’d failed to keep.

“You’re never going to put a babe in me, are you?”

His silence was the answer he was too much of a coward to say out loud. Not having a child after four years of marriage made you a failure in the eyes of your family, not that your mother would ever believe it was due to your brother not wanting to consummate the marriage; of course the problem must have lay with you. There were many nights you thought about going to your other brother's chamber, you knew Aegon wouldn’t refuse to fuck you. The following morning, things got worse. Your uncle Daemon arrived from Dragonstone to visit his brother, your father, King Visery, and his mere presence had put Aemond in a more foul mood than normal. A lord from some house you’d never heard of before was stupid enough to question Rhaenyra’s son's heritage in front of the rogue prince, resulting in his being fed to Caraxes.

It was bittersweet seeing your uncle being so overprotective of your eldest sister and her sons when your own husband was most likely making you the butt of his own jokes.

Deciding you needed a distraction from thinking about the Lord being burned alive, your mother's shaming, and your husband's rejection, you survey the dusty books until you find one of your favorite historical books. 𝒜𝑒𝑔𝑜𝓃 𝐼'𝓈 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉. Sighing, you go to the chair in the darkest part of the library and begin to read.

—

“Isn’t it a bit late for reading Adele?”

Getting a fright, you almost leap from the chair. One hand rests on your racing heart while the other grips the book tightly. Frowning, you look over your shoulder to see your uncle staring down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Still startled, you only manage to speak one word, “what?”

“Is it not Adele?”

Of course, he didn’t even know your name. You look back down at your book and say, “No, it is not.”

“I’m just jesting with you,” Daemon says, coming to the other side of the chair. He crouches down so he is level with you. “I’m very aware of who you are, Princess Adela. I’ve heard many things about you over the years; the tales of your beauty have not been exaggerated.”

You keep your head lowered so he’s unable to see the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Thank you.”

A few moments of silence pass before the prince speaks again. “You’ve been crying,” he says, “do you wish to share your troubles with me?”

“Troubles aren’t something I share so freely, uncle.”

Suddenly he cups your face gently, and his thumb brushes your bottom lip from the left to the right, only stopping when it reaches the corner of your lip, gently touching the scar that runs down to the bottom of your chin. “It is wise to keep your own counsel, but tell me, what fate awaited the fool who dared lay a hand on you?”

You shudder at the memory. A phantom pain forms in the scar on your face and the hidden one on your forearm. You had heard many stories about your uncle's adventures in life, your favorite being the battle of the stepstones, so naturally you felt embarrassed to admit it was your own brother who hurt you by accident during a stupid argument.

You clear your throat. “You were right, uncle; it is rather late for reading. I bid you goodnight.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?”

“No, but thank you for the offer. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You leave the library feeling slightly flushed and head towards your bedchamber, hoping the knights and servants who surveyed the halls didn’t see how red your cheeks were. Daemon was more handsome than you remembered, and although he had only touched your face to get a better look at your scar, goosebumps still prickled across your body.

You need to find yourself another distraction before you let your mind wander too far.

—

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯; 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥; 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.

𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵.

𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘢, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘖𝘭𝘥𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤; 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩�� 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴.

“𝘔𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦!” 𝘈 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥. “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.”

“𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴,” 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘴. 𝘗𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺. 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘴? 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸.

𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘑𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺. 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦; 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘸𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴; 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘤 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥.

“𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘦.”

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦.”

“𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘛𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢’𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, “𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱. 𝘖𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.”

#house of the dragon #Daemon Targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon fanfic #Twin flames #Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen/you #daemon targaryen fanfic #Daemon Targaryen x fem oc #Daemon Targaryen/oc #Daemon Targaryen x oc

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hollandorks · 1 year

Text

fright

battinson! bruce wayne x gn! reader

summary: in the midst of investigating a drug that kills people with their own fear, Bruce is drugged.

**not affiliated with middle of the night**

a/n: I'm back with something new, finally! I've been wanting to write this for a while, just for fun, because the battinson brain rot still hasn't gone away in over a year. Hopefully I'll be doing more oneshots from here on out! I tried to make this reader as gender neutral as possible but if I slipped up anywhere let me know so I can fix it!

word count: 7081

The abandoned subway station is cold and damp but comfortingly familiar.

Alfred had simply waved you downstairs to get started on your work while Bruce was out on patrol. That was one thing about constantly being around a vigilante–it turned you into a night owl, the changes almost imperceptible until you can no longer fall asleep on your own before two in the morning, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Sometimes you aren’t sure if it was because you’re used to working late on your nights working with Bruce…

Or if you couldn’t fall asleep until you knew Gotham’s vigilante was home safe again after another night.

So since you’re a night owl these days, you’ve taken to doing your work in the darkest parts of the night, comfortable with commuting after dark. Though Alfred and Bruce both insisted on you keeping a guest room in Wayne Tower when you work late, as neither of them are comfortable with you walking Gotham alone at night. Sometimes the city’s resident vigilante watches over you, but for those other times–those other times you stay in the drafty room set aside for you, one floor below Bruce’s bedroom.

You aren’t sure you’re supposed to know where Bruce’s bedroom is, exactly. But unbeknownst to the man himself, you’ve helped Alfred twice now haul his huge frame to bed when he’d passed out from either exhaustion or severe injuries. And as it was, it never came up in conversation that you had seen his bedroom, the space just as cluttered as the subway station belowground was.

You wouldn’t admit, either, that may or may not have snooped. His bedroom was neat, but organized in a way only his mind seemed to understand, the same as where he kept everything Batman-related. The bedroom closet was full of dark colors and clothes that were at least a decade old, and a full row of the black work boots he preferred to wear with his armor, some scuffed and torn beyond recognition, a couple of pairs almost new.

It isn’t a secret, exactly, but you knew Bruce well enough by now to know he probably wouldn’t like that you’d seen his bedroom without permission.

It’s his bedroom you think of now as you sit down to work at your designated desk in the abandoned station. The space was less lived in that the basement around you. Did Bruce prefer the bats for company? Or was the tower above too full of ghosts for him to face? Either way, he spends more of his time downstairs than up. There’s even a ratty secondhand couch shoved to one side where he seems to do most of his sleeping. You’ve seen him crash there more times than you could count.

You stretch already-cold fingers and boot up the multiple computer screens that have become yours even though you only own the laptop.

You’ve been working with him for a few months now, the connection pure chance, as most things in your life were. Your move to Gotham, your skill with computers, your meeting with a kevlar-covered vigilante. It was all chance, a force you believe in almost as much as you believe in gravity.

It had been a beautiful night that night, which really should have been your first clue that it was all going to hell. You were taking a simple walk to clear your head after a long day at work. You’d hated the corporate job you were working at, which was, ironically enough, at Wayne Enterprises.

That night was the first time you were acquainted with Gotham’s dark, violent underbelly. It was also the first time you met the man you’d thought was simply an urban legend–the Batman, a shadow turned savior at the moment you thought it would all be over.

He’d disappeared as your thanks rose to your lips, swallowed up by the night before you could utter the words.

The second time you met Batman was by chance, too. You’d gotten some information on a crime and, well, you had done the not-so-smart thing and used your computer skills to follow the lead.

Batman had followed the same lead through different methods.

Showing up at the same place at first led him to suspect you, but once you’d pulled out your laptop and proven how you’d gotten the information by using Gotham’s surveillance cameras to track the assholes down, he was curious. He wanted you to show him exactly how you’d done it. He’d revealed his curious mind to you that night, and that was the first piece of him you developed a crush on.

The sharp jawline didn’t hurt, either.

You smile to yourself as your fingers work over the keyboard to the computer in front of you. These days, he has you scouring surveillance cameras, police scanners, and internet forums for leads on cases. You also have your not-so-legal hacking skills to accomplish those things. And that’s in between the research you do on current cases. Not to mention the extra work you do behind his back to keep Batman’s identity from ever getting out–not that he needs to know that, not yet. It’s mostly deleting everything you can get your hands on that discusses his possible identity, whether it’s really far off base or a little too close to home.

It’s a lot of work, but you love it. You’d barely given it a thought when Bruce–before you’d known his identity–had asked you to help him. You’d said yes before the question had been fully finished.

Tonight, Bruce is staking out the seedier parts of Gotham trying to track down a new drug. At least, you think it’s a new drug. Several people have turned up dead, their features marred by their own hands, with something unknown in their bloodstreams. The medical examiner said it seemed as if they had all been…frightened to death, the levels of cortisol and adrenaline in their blood sky high.

Right now you have your computers working in the background to monitor police chatter, any hints from the dark web, and anything else you can think of to track down the source of the drug. While the program works to search for keywords and phrases on one of your three monitors, the other two screens are split between all of the ME reports and the information on each victim and real-time video feeds from every camera in the city you can get your hands on.

Bruce doesn’t know that you’re trying to watch his back while working the case.

You worry about him, even though he’s probably the most capable person you’ve ever met.

The third time you’d met him he’d shown up at your apartment bleeding everywhere. He hadn’t even known he was bleeding everywhere. He’d gotten into a fight while tracking you down to get you to use your skills on another case and simply ignored his injuries in favor of keeping his goal.

Luckily, a few days earlier you’d sliced your finger open while cooking and had some of the weird liquid bandaid stuff you’d been using. There’d been a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face when you’d run and gotten it for him. He’d thanked you softly, and then gone back to being all-business as you worked on the gash on his arm. As you’d bandaged the cut, he told you about the case he was working, and how your computer skills would really help him out.

He started turning up more frequently after that, asking for help on cases. Until the day he’d asked if you wanted a permanent position helping him–paid and everything.

And now here you were, in his innermost circle, allowed to know everything about him. At least, as much of everything as he let anyone know.

Your computer pings right as Bruce grunts over the comms. It’s another thing he might not know about, your nightly tuning in to the comms as he goes out. Not that you aren’t allowed, but it’s something you won’t admit to unless directly questioned.

You sit up straight so fast it sends your desk chair rolling backwards. Fumbling for the edge of your desk to pull yourself forward, you frantically click through tabs to figure out where the alert was coming from.

A connection.

Your breath leaves in a rush as you scan the information.

Then you’re scrambling back for the comms, flipping the mic on, and trying to string a coherent sentence together.

“I found a lead,” you finally manage. It sounds like he’s in the middle of a fight. Oops. You push on, knowing he can hear you even if he can’t respond. “They were all patients at Arkham Asylum at some point. And they all were treated by the same doctor, Jonathan Crane.”

Bruce starts cursing. There’s a strange hissing noise over the comms. You lightly shake the computer, trying to figure out the source of the static.

“I know,” he finally says. The hissing has stopped, but now there’s a new noise. A familiar noise. The sound of his motorcycle revving to life.

“Wh–how?” you say, unsure how he found out before you did.

There’s more cursing and the sound of the bike speeding up.

“I’m–shit.” He coughs. “I’m on my way back. Tell Alfred to–” His breath stutters for a moment. “I don’t–”

“Please tell me you haven’t been stabbed to death,” you say with more bravado than you feel. With one hand, you text Alfred to come downstairs with the first aid kit.

But the comms have gone silent. Bruce is breathing heavily, the only way you know he’s still there.

“Where were you hit?” you ask. “What street? How bad is it?”

No answer. Bruce makes a noise that raises every hair on your body.

It sounds like he’s…afraid.

You scramble to pull up every feed you have and find out where he’s been so you could see what happened.

In all your months knowing him, you’ve never heard Bruce make such a noise. You’ve never heard him afraid like that. Something about it raises every hair on the back of your neck.

You search camera after camera on the streets of Gotham, looking for any sign of Bruce at the moment he said he was on his way back. You curse quietly to yourself, the sound of Bruce’s motorcycle engine through the comms filling the echoing space around you.

Then–there. Grainy as all get out and the only angle is available from a building across the street. But it’s him–there’s no denying the hulking shadow that is the Batman. He’s helping someone, a woman who appears to be screaming though the video has no audio attached. She thrashes and hits at Bruce, seemingly hysterical.

Then she goes utterly still. You realize that it was about this time where you flipped the comms on to listen.

Someone steps out of the shadows of the alley in front of them and there’s a sudden small cloud of fog.

Bruce darts away, hopping on his motorcycle as the figure moves fully into the light. He–because you can see now that it’s a man–looks down at the woman dead on the sidewalk. Then his face tilts upward and you see why Bruce said, I know.

It was the doctor himself, the one who’d been treating all of the dead patients.

Jonathan Crane.

Even with the shitty quality, his face is a clear match for the identification photo linked to Arkham.

You immediately save images of the video for Gordon to see. Here’s the proof you need–this and the Batman’s testimony of an attack surely are enough to at least get Crane investigated properly.

Hopefully.

The small printer starts to spit out the pictures as the roar of a familiar engine abruptly cuts off in the tunnels outside of the station.

You straighten.

“Bruce?” you call out uncertainly. Normally he comes tearing in, hopping the motorcycle up on the ramp to be worked on and showing off a bit as he does it, or parking haphazardly near his work tables so he can get straight back to work. In the months you’d known him, he’d never stopped outside of the station for any reason.

Your heart is somewhere near your feet as you tentatively step forward.

“Bruce?” you say again, this time much quieter.

You’re suddenly yanked backwards off your feet as a gloved hand presses against your mouth. You squirm, panicked, trying to get away. You lament all the times you refused Bruce’s self defense lessons.

“Shh, be quiet,” a familiar voice says.

You relax all at once.

It’s Bruce.

Even through his armor, you can feel his heart pounding rapidly. His breath comes in sharp gasps that he struggles to keep quiet.

He lets you turn in his arms. His eyes are wild, panicked.

“Where are you hurt?” you murmur quietly. Your eyes track over every inch of him. There’s no blood that you can see, but he’s still in his all-black armor and you’re both tucked in the shadows near the hangar door that opens into the tunnels. You probably wouldn’t be able to see the blood if there was any.

Bruce is still panting like he’s been running. “They’re coming,” he whispers. You frown. You already checked all the cameras from his route home and the security cameras in the tunnel. He came in alone.

There’s a quiet noise somewhere in the distance, probably just a bat going to bed for the day, but Bruce yanks you close against his chest and whirls with one fist raised.

Now you’re afraid, too. Has someone followed him all this way and you missed it somehow? Has someone found his inner sanctum? Are you both in danger?

Another noise startles you both.

The elevator descending.

Bruce’s eyes are wild beneath his mask.

“It’s Alfred,” you whisper, but Bruce seems not to hear you.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he murmurs into your ear, dragging you along with him into the recessed shadows by the elevator. You stumble along, still tucked against his side, the feeling of his breath on your ear lingering and making you shiver. Even though you’re afraid, you feel safe. “We’ll get you help, I promise.” You’re not sure what you need help with, but you remain quiet.

Bruce has always protected you, whether he knows it or not.

He physically protects you, sure, watching your back as the Batman, keeping you safe in a city as turbulent as Gotham. But Bruce also has always looked out for your mental health, too.

There have always been nights where things are just…bleak, whether or not for any particular reason. You withdraw into yourself during those times, much like Bruce himself does. Somehow he always, always knows how to draw you back out. Sometimes it’s a quiet joke, sometimes a request to help him with something, sometimes it’s only his quiet company as he sits and works next to you.

So even now, as you fear every moving shadow, every noise, thinking someone might be coming after you…

Even now, you know you’ll be safe and protected with Bruce.

It’s part of why you love him.

Not that he’d ever know that.

“Stay put,” Bruce says into your ear, making you shiver all over again.

He pushes gently on your shoulders in a stay put motion and steps away on silent feet. Even now his grace surprises you, even after months of watching him, being around him. He is a wonder to behold, a massive shadow that becomes weightless in a single breath. It’s like he becomes incorporeal at will, turning into shadow and smoke before he strikes.

The elevator gates rattle open and Bruce leaps.

Alfred is on the ground, first aid kit scattering to all corners of the station with a clatter, in barely a blink.

“Bruce!” you half-shout, the instinct automatic. Your voice overlaps with Alfred’s, the echoes sending the bats into a frenzy overhead.

Bruce goes utterly still, one fist raised like he’s going to hit Alfred. Alfred of all people. He flinches at the bats but his focus is on Alfred.

Alfred is as calm as ever despite the figure looming threateningly over him.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“Alfred,” Bruce chokes out and the sound is agonized. He seems paralyzed. “I’m sorry, I was too slow–”

The three of you don’t move.

You approach slowly. “Bruce?” you say softly, like he’s a wild animal backed into a corner. Because that’s what he looks like–wild, feral, and most of all, scared. You think of the ME reports and have to bite your lip to distract yourself from the fear that brings.

“You have to–you have to tie me up,” Bruce says, his arm trembling like he’s holding himself back. “He dosed me with–whatever it is.” His eyes dart around the space.

You straighten as if shocked. “Dr. Crane did?”

“Yes, he–” Bruce flinches and then refocuses on Alfred, still beneath him and as calm as ever as if it were an everyday experience. “Oh God. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry.”

Then Bruce does something even more shocking.

He sobs.

You startle as if a gunshot has gone off.

You’ve never heard Bruce cry. You’ve never even really seen him sad. Angry, sure. And frustrated. Those seem to be his two main moods, other than generally quiet. The happiness is rare, but you’ve seen that too.

But you’ve never, ever heard him cry.

“Bruce?” you say again, uncertain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans. “I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry.” He scrambles away from Alfred. His eyes are still wild, darting every which way, his expression frantic under the mask.

Your brain works quickly through all the evidence you’ve been digging into.

“It’s making him afraid,” you tell Alfred as the older man gets unsteadily to his feet. Bruce whirls and throws a punch, but there’s nothing there. “Whatever he was dosed with, it’s making him afraid.”

What you don’t tell Alfred is that this drug most likely scared the other victims to death.

Your heart pounds with enough fear that you wonder briefly if you’ve been dosed too.

“If he’s like this, he won’t react well to being tied up,” Alfred says, but he starts moving efficiently, pulling zip ties from Bruce’s belt as he fights invisible foes.

In one swift movement, Alfred grabs Bruce’s wrist, kicks him in the back of one knee, and grabs the other wrist.

You gape as he tightens Bruce’s hands behind his back even as he thrashes.

“No!” Bruce shouts. “Let me go! I have to get there before it’s too late! No!”

“How did you–?” You stare at Alfred with your mouth open slightly. Alfred is a man of many hidden talents, apparently.

“We need to get him more secure,” Alfred says, still calm as ever. And maybe, with as long as he’s been around Bruce, this sort of thing is normal. You’ve only been around a few months–Alfred’s been around since the beginning. You wonder just how many times Bruce has gotten himself into messes like this.

Alfred grunts as Bruce tries to get away. Apparently, Alfred’s strong, even with an old leg injury. You hold the man in high esteem but it just gets higher as you watch him.

“Tell me what to do,” you say as you straighten your spine. Bruce needs you, and that’s all that matters. You need him to make it through the night–that’s your focus right now.

“See if you can calm him down long enough for us to get him upstairs. His bed should be sturdy enough for us to tie him to.” Alfred grunts and manages to shove Bruce back to his knees as he rises.

You quickly kneel in front of Bruce and take his face in your hands. “Bruce? It’s me. It’s okay. Alfred and I are okay.”

Bruce’s eyes roll around without focus. His breathing is even worse now, each breath rasping out of his chest, his whole body heaving with it.

You try to push the memory of the crime scene photos out of your mind. Bodies twisted with fear. People who were dosed with whatever this was who died scared out of their minds.

You’re terrified for Bruce, but you push it away.

“Bruce, please,” you say, softer now, fingers pressed tightly against his cheeks. You can feel the slight scrape of stubble on your palms.

Bruce’s brilliant blue eyes finally meet yours. “No,” he says and the desperate word is like a bullet to your heart. His whole body strains towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t die.”

“Bruce, I’m okay,” you say. Your hands fumble before gripping the mask and pulling it off. Bruce cringes away. “I’m okay, I’m not dying.” Your fingers card through his hair. Damp with sweat, it sticks up with the movement. Bruce leans into the touch, and his breathing seems to ease slightly.

“Y/n,” he mumbles. His eyes close for a second.

“Bruce, let’s get you upstairs,” Alfred says in a low voice.

Somehow, the pair of you get him up, hands still tied behind his back, and into the elevator. Bruce keeps repeating his apologies, every sound from his lips pained and terrified.

“Alfred we need to–to get the drug out of his system somehow, if we can. I don’t know what else to do.” You whisper the words because you’re worried about setting Bruce off even further. You hold tight to his armored elbow.

“I can get an IV started once we get him settled, that might work.” Alfred furrows his brow. “Y/n…how bad is this drug? What have you found in your research?”

You hesitate, staring up at Bruce for a moment. His arms jerk in their restraints, but there’s nowhere for him to go in the small space of the elevator. “I don’t know how many people were dosed with it and survived,” you finally admit.

Alfred goes still and stares at you while absently wrangling Bruce back into the corner. “How many died?”

“I don’t know. Five, I think. Three for sure. Bruce watched a woman die from it right before he got hit in the face with it.” You chew your lip. Your eyes fill with tears as you meet Bruce’s anguished blue eyes.

“Then we will do everything in our power to keep him alive,” Alfred swears. “After he’s secured, I’ll get the IV started first and then we’ll make sure to monitor his vitals. If it gets too bad…”

“He won’t be happy if he has to go to the hospital,” you say, but part of you wants to insist that you take him anyway.

“No!” Bruce shouts as the elevators open.

You don’t know what he’s responding to, but suddenly he’s frantic again, whatever slight semblance of calm he had in the elevator abruptly gone. He aims a kick at the wall and somehow leverages his bound hands in front of him.

Alfred curses and shoves Bruce against the same wall. He braces the younger man with his whole body but his bad leg trembles.

“Go get the medical bag!” Alfred says. “We need to sedate him.”

You pause. “But what if something reacts with the drug?”

Alfred curses again. “There’s nothing else to do. We’ll give him as low a dose as we can and keep an eye on him. Go!”

So you run. Your feet slip over dusty hardwood floors as you scramble as fast as you can for Alfred’s medical bag. The bag is full of everything Alfred might need in a Batman-related emergency in case Bruce couldn’t make it home or even upstairs. The first aid kit is for general injuries–this bag is for when things go to hell.

It feels as if hours have passed in the short amount of time it took to grab the bag. When you reach the elevator again, Alfred and Bruce are gone. You can hear them in Bruce’s bedroom now and hurry towards them.

“Get his other arm!” Alfred says as he handcuffs one of Bruce’s hands to his massive wood headboard.

You scramble up on the bed and over Bruce to do as Alfred says.

“Let me tie you up, Bruce,” you say gently even though you aren’t sure he can hear you. “Please,” you say as he fights your grip. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s nearly impossible to even get the handcuffs on his wrist, let alone connected to the other side of the headboard.

“Alfred,” you say around a grunt. You’re fully straddling Bruce now but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. It sounds like he’s having an asthma attack, he’s breathing so hard and wheezing so much. God, what if he stops breathing and passes out from his panic?

It takes several more minutes of you and Alfred both yanking on Bruce’s arm–because damn is he strong–before he’s finally, finally secured against the headboard.

You immediately start taking off the armor on his arms as Alfred preps the IV. You sit on Bruce’s legs to stop his incessant kicking, murmuring soothing words to him the whole time. You and Alfred will both be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don’t even notice any pain at the moment.

Bruce freaks out when Alfred sticks the needle in his arm. He shouts wordlessly and thrashes so hard the bed moves away from the wall. You curse under your breath and get off of him.

“Hold this arm as best you can,” Alfred says.

“Who knew he could cause so much damage while handcuffed?” The joke comes out wobbly, though, your worry seeping through your words. Even leaning all of your body weight on Bruce, he still makes it nearly impossible for Alfred to get the IV in.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when it finally goes in. Alfred works quickly and efficiently, still the perfect picture of calm even though he must be freaking out as much as you are–if not more.

After another minute, Bruce relaxes marginally. He stops trying to escape and settles back into the pillows, still awake and staring with wild eyes around the room. Every so often he jerks one of his restraints, as if testing them.

You blow out another breath.

“I’m going to monitor his pulse and blood pressure,” Alfred says as he pulls the necessary things out of the giant medical bag. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him until the drug passes through his system.”

You nod, staring down at Bruce, feeling utterly helpless. How are you supposed to fight someone’s own mind? There’s nothing you can do that isn’t being done already–and there’s still no guarantee Bruce will survive.

As quick as it comes, you shut the thought down. Bruce will make it through this, even if it kills you.

You finish undoing his chest plates and set them to the side. You brush Bruce’s hair back from his face.

“You’ll be okay,” you say solemnly. “You’re too stubborn to die, and Alfred and I are too stubborn to let you.” When you look up, Alfred is frowning at the blood pressure machine and the pulse oximeter on Bruce's finger. “What?”

“Talk to him again,” is all he says.

You raise an eyebrow but turn back to Bruce. “Who knew Alfred was so strong, huh?” you say, aiming for lightness, but the words seem to fall short.

You reach out and smooth his wild, dark hair.

Alfred’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I think you calm him down, my dear.”

It’s your turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you talk or touch him, his pulse drops a little and his breathing gets easier.” Alfred gives you a knowing look.

Alfred’s the only one who knows about your crush on Bruce. He’s told you, repeatedly, to admit your feelings, but you’re too scared. Bruce is so far out of your league it’s laughable. Just because he trusts you enough with his secret doesn’t mean he feels the same way you do. Bruce has so few friends–his only two are, in fact, you and Alfred–that you know he opened up simply because he could. Bruce needed a friend, a confidant, a partner. You were able to give him that. That’s all.

You stare at Alfred then, resigned, climb up over Bruce to sit by his head.

“How about a scalp massage?” you ask Bruce. “Because apparently it makes you feel calmer.”

Alfred chuckles. “His mother used to do that. Rub his head to get him to sleep or to get him to calm down when he was upset.” The older man softens as he stares down at Bruce.

Something inside you melts. You reach a slightly trembling hand out and run it over Bruce’s head. You feel for a moment like you’re taking advantage of him. You never get to touch him like this, to simply watch him, and you relish it.

“Here,” Alfred says, handing out a small package. “For the black around his eyes.”

You take a wipe with your free hand and gently rub at the makeup on Bruce’s face. Both of his arms jerk against the restraints at that first touch. He starts panting hard again.

“The blood–” he says with a pained moan. “The blood–”

“There’s no blood, Bruce,” you say. Each touch is careful, gentle. “Everyone’s alright.”

But he keeps yanking at the restraints. His wrists underneath his long sleeve shirt are turning redder and redder with each movement.

“I couldn’t save them,” Bruce says around a small sob. He stares at you but you don’t think he actually can see you. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save them.”

“Save who?” you ask with one final swipe of the wipe over his eyes.

“My parents. Alfred.” A tear slips over his cheek. “You.”

“Alfred and I are alive, Bruce,” you say as you sit back on your heels on the bed. You carefully reach over and tug each of his sleeves over his wrist underneath the handcuffs.

But Bruce doesn’t hear. “Stop!” he shouts at an unseen foe. “Don’t hurt them!”

His sleeves have ridden up again, exposing his wrists to the handcuffs. You can see a small bit of blood on the wrist closest to you.

Alfred hands out a bandage. “This should help.”

You each bandage a wrist even as Bruce continues struggling. His pleas fade to pained noises that rip your heart out each time.

“We should give him more of the sedative,” Alfred says. He rubs a hand over his face tiredly. “Where are the autopsy records? Maybe I can find out what this drug contains and see if there’s anything we can safely give him.”

“They’re all at my workstation downstairs.”

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred says. He hurries off, his limp even more pronounced now.

Bruce continues straining against the handcuffs. His face is red with effort, his chest still heaving, the veins on his neck sticking out. He brings his knees up and leverages himself so his back smashes against the headboard. It creaks and groans.

Whatever Alfred gave him must not have been enough. He’s just as frantic as he was before. Except now he’s trying to break his wrists and the headboard at the same time.

“Stop that,” you say calmly even as your heart pounds. You wouldn’t put it past Bruce to snap the entire thing trying to get free. You run your fingers through his hair again. He immediately settles somewhat, his tugs on the handcuffs slightly easier.

You decide to use both hands and give him the promised scalp massage. The longer your fingers work through the tangles, the more he seems to relax. You glance at the small device on his finger. His heart rate is still too high, but it lowers slightly at your prolonged touch. It’ll have to be good enough, you decide. Anything to keep his heart from giving out.

When you look back up, Bruce is staring into your eyes.

“I thought–I couldn’t be afraid anymore,” he says quietly. He seems more lucid now. Maybe the dose wasn’t that strong. You silently pray to all the gods and entities that might listen that it’ll be over soon. “But seeing you die–” His breath catches in his chest. “I couldn’t save you.”

“I’m here,” you say. You wish you could take his fear and pain away, but there’s nothing else you can do. “I didn’t die.”

Bruce makes a noise in his throat that you can’t comprehend. “It’s my–worst nightmare.” His eyes close. He grimaces.

You keep trying to sooth him with your fingers in his hair. “You’re hallucinating, Bruce,” you say. “I don’t know if you’re able to tell what’s real right now, but all the bad things? Those are hallucinations.”

“You’re real,” he murmurs softly. His body is a lot more relaxed.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m here. I’m real.”

Alfred bursts back into the room, laptop tucked under his arms. “I think we can give him more.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No, but if this doesn’t work…He’ll need an ambulance.”

“He seems a lot calmer,” you say. Bruce’s eyes are still closed but he hums. “I don’t think the dose was very strong. He probably took the guy by surprise.”

Alfred injects something into the IV, and Bruce’s body goes slack after a few moments. Alfred checks his pulse and blood pressure for several quiet moments, watching each of them improve slightly minute by minute.

“That should do it,” Alfred says. He brushes a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “You can go on to bed, my dear.”

“No, I’ll–I’ll stay, keep an eye on him. You go.” You expect him to argue, but Alfred nods and leaves you alone with Bruce.

Now that things are calm, all of your fear and adrenaline start to fade. Bruce isn’t completely out of the woods yet, but he’ll make it. You think.

You think back to the surveillance video you saw. Dr. Crane was likely experimenting on the woman who died when Bruce showed up–and used whatever drug he had leftover on him. So it was likely it hadn’t been a full dose, especially with the way he seemed to calm down some.

It was lucky. Extremely lucky. You think about the way the force of chance, of luck, has worked in your life so far, and can’t discount this instance either.

When Bruce wakes up, you’ll give him all of the evidence he needs to get Dr. Crane arrested. You’d call Gordon now, but it’s so late it’s early. It can all wait until you know for sure Bruce is going to be alright.

Exhausted, you lean back against the pillows next to Bruce. You glance around and can’t help but laugh at the situation. Here you are, in the place you most want to be–in Bruce’s bed–in the least romantic way possible. You don’t even have permission to be here. Bruce will probably ask you to leave once he’s in his right mind again.

You turn your head to watch Bruce sleep, your own eyes heavy. You want to undo the handcuffs, but you’re afraid he’ll wake up in a panic again. Better to leave them on just in case.

Without meaning to, your breathing syncs with his. You watch his chest rise and fall and try to let the motion comfort you. You glance at the little device on his finger again and feel even better when you see that his heart rate has calmed significantly. It’s still a bit high, but it isn’t in dangerous territory anymore.

You always knew being Batman was dangerous. You’ve seen him come back injured a thousand times. A couple of times he was half-dead. But something about this was worse. Maybe because it isn’t an actual injury–it’s his own mind fighting him. His worst nightmares come to life. Bruce is the strongest person you know and seeing him brought low is like…a physical blow. It was terrifying. Bruce had always seemed so…untouchable. Like a man who was never afraid.

His fear is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your eyes slip closed as you watch him breathe. His bed is startlingly comfortable. You half-expected Bruce with his martyr complex to sleep on a brick. But this bed…this bed is definitely the kind of bed a billionaire would own.

You wake with a jolt sometime later.

Bruce is watching you. His breath catches and he lets out a long sigh. He closes his eyes and seems to gather himself.

When his eyes open again a second later, they’re wet.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice is rougher and lower than usual, like he’s been screaming. The sound of it scrapes over your skin like sandpaper.

“I’m not,” you say, still struggling to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. The room is dim. You were pretty sure the lamps had both been on but now only one is lit–and you have a blanket over you now too. Alfred must have come in at some point.

“I know, but–” He takes another deep breath. The handcuffs rattle as he shifts. “For a moment, I didn’t know if it was real.”

“What did you see?” you ask slowly. You see the handcuff key sitting on the nightstand closest to you and grab it.

Bruce shies away from you. “Don’t unlock me yet. I don’t–I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bruce,” you say. You soften towards him. He’s scared again, but it’s different. You don’t know if it’s a leftover effect of the drug or if it's his propensity for self-flagellation, but he’s afraid of hurting you. “You won’t hurt me. You didn’t even hurt me when you were drugged. You protected me. Granted, it was from nothing, but…” You flash him a smile. He doesn’t return it. “Have you been awake long?”

He ignores the joke and the question, eyes staring into the middle distance. “I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying,” he finally says as you unlock the wrist closest to you. He groans quietly as he stretches the arm out. He must be in a lot of pain from having his arms lifted for so long, but he says nothing. “I saw myself killing you. Or I saw someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. You kept getting hurt and I was always too late to stop it.” He’s breathing hard again.

You can feel his breath on your face as you lean over him to unlock the other handcuff.

He catches your wrist and keeps you close, staring up at you. His lashes are long and dark, his blue eyes bright as stars. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away, even in his disheveled state. You still aren’t used to the sight of him.

“Y/n, do you hear what I’m saying?” he says, voice almost anguished.

And your brain finally catches up.

I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying. I saw myself killing you. Or someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me.

You suddenly can’t breathe. People I love.

“Bruce–” All the other words get caught behind his name.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and yet again you aren’t sure what he’s sorry for. “But seeing all of that–I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you without knowing…all of it. The way I feel about you. How badly I–” He shakes his head and presses his lips together.

You want to pinch yourself. You’re still asleep, right? There’s no way in any universe that Bruce Wayne feels for you like you do for him.

But he’s including you in the list of people he loves.

You’ve been silent for too long, still hovering over Bruce. His eyes shift away, a wall coming down behind them as he shuts himself off.

“I just…wanted you to know. That’s all. I won’t mention it again.” There’s a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t…feel that way about me.”

“Bruce,” you say again, softer this time. You sit back a little. “I–I’m sorry.” He deflates a little, rubbing one wrist absently. He still isn’t looking at you. “I’m not really good with words, but I want you to know I feel the same way about you.” His gaze snaps to yours. You can feel heat creeping up your neck to settle in your cheeks. “I was so scared last night. I thought–all the other victims we knew about had died and–I couldn’t handle it if you died, too. You are…so important to me.” Your voice catches slightly.

He reaches for you, calloused hands soft as the touch of a butterfly wing against your cheek.

“Please tell me this isn’t the drug,” he says after a long moment.

You grin. “It isn’t. It makes you scared, remember? Are you scared now?”

He smiles back. The sight of it steals your breath. “I’m terrified.” But his smile only grows wider.

You lean down, very slightly, going slowly so he has time to change his mind. Because it still doesn’t feel real, doesn’t feel possible.

But Bruce stretches his neck up and closes the gap between you. His lips brush yours and you feel a relief so complete you want to melt into the bed. His other hand comes up to join the first and he cradles your face like you’re something valuable, something breakable, something to be cherished.

As his lips move against yours, your entire body seems to say, Ah, I’ve been waiting for this.

His mouth parts slightly, an invitation that you quickly take. His hands are still careful against your face, but one of yours fists around his shirt.

When you pull away, you smile at each other.

“As much as I want to stay here like this,” you murmur with another kiss pressed quickly to his mouth, “I think we should get Gordon to arrest Dr. Crane as soon as possible.”

Bruce sighs but nods. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

He laughs. “And maybe after that’s done with…we can talk more.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. “Of course. We can talk and kiss.”

Needless to say, it takes a long time for you and Bruce to get up to contact Gordon.

#battinson x reader #battinson x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #the batman #the batman 2022 #the batman x reader #the batma fanfic #fright #fright fic #bruce wayne #battinson

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ventisettestars · 1 year

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DannyMay Day 6+7: Eclipse And Weapon [ao3]

This is a continuation of Day1: Fantasy AU. [link] Next part: [link]

Summary: Sam and Tucker meet the Fae Lord Phantom with a bonus flashback to how he earned the title.

Please note things get violent near the end after Danny messes with the pendant.

WC: 2,369

“Lord Phantom” Fright Knight knelt to face his Lord. “I have secured the humans as you’ve requested. Might I inquire as to why you personally collected them?”

Phantom rubbed between his eyes as Cujo whined for his attention next to the throne. “They are my attendants from while I’m-. Companions of mine since early childhood.”

“I see.”

“So.” Phantom’s gaze fell on his knight, the ring of light in the black projecting his source of power. “Do I need for you to attend to them before I make my way, or will their accommodations be adequate to please me?”

Fright Knight stiffened. “My Lord. May I be dismissed to address and correct my misunderstandings of your relations to the humans.”

So they got the standard 'throw the humans in a room’ treatment. “I’ll handle it myself. I’m sure they are frightened enough without you returning to move them to a new location.” He rose from his throne, waving Cujo to join with the other hounds. “Lead me to them.”

So Fright Knight did.

Sure enough they were in one of the more nefarious rooms in his domain. The room was pretty basic by fae standards. Lots of wooded and delicately carved furniture, cozy temperature regulated between an opened window and a fireplace that always burned with just the right amount of warmth to fend off the cold of his corner of the realm.

What made this room so dangerous to humans was the moss that carpeted the floor. It released spores to make creatures other than fae more docile after long exposure.

Entering the room, Tucker was the only one in view. Phantom had barely a moment to process that, before Sam burst out from the other side of the door, attacking with her dagger.

Phantom blocked it with his armor, staring at her with his dark eyes. “Stand Down.” The slim green ring was the only indicator of where he looked and it seemed to glow brighter with his command.

Sam, losing the only advantage she saw at the moment, relaxed her grip and let the dagger fall to the floor. Phantom smirked, knowing it wasn’t the only dagger she kept on her person.

He bent to pick up the dagger and handed it back to her. “Hang onto this. I’ve no need to disarm you. I invited you here as guests. Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

They both shook their heads, probably feeling a bit of both hunger and thirst now that he mentioned it. That was another side effect of the moss.

“Good. Don’t do either.” Phantom turned in the threshold. “Now then. Follow me and don’t wander.”

He walked off, and was relieved when the two followed. He wondered if maybe Tucker noticed the properties of the moss, cause they both hurried quite a bit.

Fright Knight followed behind the two humans as extra protection, irritated that his Lord let the humans see his back.

Once at Phantom’s personal chambers, he turned. “Thank you for the escort. Now leave us.”

Fright Knight bowed and took his post at the end of the hall.

“This way.” Phantom opened the door to the first room, the area was filled with lush flora and I couldn’t be considered a room as the walls vanished with only three free standing doors. The sky overhead filled with stars and a black moon, surrounded by a ring that seemed to match Phantom’s eyes.

“An eternal eclipse. A sign of the Lord of Night.” Sam mumbled, the sky and his eyes being the only proof she needed. “Is that why you tend to hunt only on the darkest nights?”

“Yep. I didn’t realize you’d actually read my parent’s scrolls.” Phantom looked up and winced as he realized his slip. He always enjoyed this inbetween space of his, but his two natures also tended to meld here.

“Your par-?!” Tucker gasped as he watched a resigned Phantom shift into Danny. Only, one of his eyes remained Fae looking.

“Hey, surprise?” Danny had the gull to look sheepish with a tiny wave.

They were all silent. Danny waited on his friends before he made the next move.

His nerves started to get the better of him as the wait till they said or reacted stretched on. He looked up to the eclipse in his sky as just something to hold his attention, when Sam finally said something.

“So. Let me get this straight. You, the skeptic prince of Amity, are not only Fae, but a freaking Fae Lord. The fucking Lord of Night, Leader of the Winter Wild Hunt, AND the Summer King Pariah’s Bane?”

Danny nodded. Only to turn to Tucker as he started laughing.

“How the heck have you found the time to pull all of that off??”

“Oh, Time in the Realms is slippery…I’m a bit older than I look…Or, I’ve got like centuries of life experience in 16 years time…?”

“How does that even?” Tucker looked like he was trying to do the math, when Danny shrugged.

“Don’t think about it too hard. I stopped trying to figure it out ages ago. I could be in ruling for weeks, then once I return to my room, the night wouldn’t even have passed. Don’t get my started on the pure headache of figuring out seasons and times of power.” Danny leaned as though he were going to sit, but there was no chair behind him.

Sam was about to call out when suddenly there was a chair. She raised a brow at him.

“What? The courts are always playing around with their politics and times of power. It might look like it’s on a 3 month calendar, but here those three months could last only a week, or years.”

“That's absolutely fascinating, but the chair, how did it?”

“I’m the Lord of this Realm.”

“Danny, that makes no sense.”

Tilting his head a bit, he grinned. “Good.” Letting his fae nature slip to the forefront again, he spread his wings that sparkled in starlight, “If it made sense, then I’d be a shit Lord.”

Phantom preened and let his wings fluff a bit before they resettled into looking like his cloak. He reveled in their dumb founded stares. The lore books always hyped up ‘the fae’s gossamer wings’, so they probably assumed his raven wings were just a feathered cloak.

“So, you both have two options. First being, go through that door.” Phantom pointed a finger at the door that looked like it belonged to Amity. “It’ll return you home sometime in the night. It’s never consistent so can’t say when. Or-” Danny shifted to Phantom. “I could give you a tour of my realm.”

They both looked a bit concerned. But, this was Danny. Right?

“I’m down for staying. How about you Tuck?”

“I don’t want to miss out on all the fun. So the time thing, is it that you are time traveling or-”

“Probably time dilation? Something in Infinite Realms keeps everything out of sync. I’m still expecting one of these days I’ll come here, and lose months in the Human Realm. I’ve been blessed so far.”

“So, when’d this all-?” Tucker motioned to all of Phantom.

“Human time, about a year ago. This is my second winter in power. You remember that charm my parents got from Duke Masters? The pretty black one with the ring.” Phantom made sure to look both of them in the eyes, drawing attention to it with a tap. Just to make sure they could see his eyes matched the charm.

Sam gasped. “But, it was useless, did-”

“It contained the previous Lord of Night. I broke it and unsealed the binding spell. Defeated him in single combat, then tada-” He grinned, exposing his fangs. “The Realm couldn’t have a Human Lord, so it fixed that problem my first night here. I’m pretty sure that my attendant at the time helped the progress. Come on. Let me start with introducing you to Cujo!” Phantom was done discussing his rise to power.

They both knew Danny well enough to know that it wasn’t that simple.

-----one and half years ago

The pendant was pretty, and that was about the only thing it was good for. Duke Masters had sent it in place of taxes this month. Claiming it to be a ‘fae trinket’, his parents eagerly accepted it in place of taxes. Which really ticked Danny off. Duke Masters had more than enough coin to spare. Had it been a villager that painted a rock, he would’ve been less ticked off about it.

But it was the richest of their people that pulled this bullshit. Danny was running his hand over it, attempting to see how the man had made the rock to produce the glow. It didn’t seem to be the work of wizardry. Least from what the court wizard observed.

The fae might have been a thing in the past, but now, people going missing in the woods were just unfortunate victims to nature. Not whisked away to some magical realm. It was all just fairy tales.

His nail caught in the glowing circle on the charm. There was a divot there. He picked at the spot with his nail at first, but then tried at it with a dagger-like letter opener. Finally, a small enough nick was formed, but rather than just looking scratched, shadows burst and the air grew thin. A figure emerged, everything about them deathly white from their features to clothes, to large feathered wings.

“Foolish Mortal. You’ve done me a service by freeing me, but as my sentence wasn’t fully served, you’ve committed a crime to the realm. For that, you must face your punishment. I shall even show you mercy and deliver your death quickly.”

A sword materialized in the being’s - the fae’s hand. They went to strike, the bone white blade swinging down.

Danny wasn’t going to just die just like that. So with the only weapon at his disposal, he blocked using the letter opener he’d been holding.

The bone blade was deflected to Danny’s relief, but it has cut the tip from his own blade. In a panicked thought, at least the blade was sharper now.

It did little to comfort him as the fae continued to strike. Danny focused more on dodging since he couldn’t afford his blade getting any smaller. Everything the bone blade connected with was cut as though it were butter. Least it wasn’t the poor letter opener’s fault.

The blade nicked his arm and Danny had never felt such pain before. It was cold, but it burned. Distantly he remembered learning about sensory death to cells when they were damaged to the point of no longer being able to regenerate feeling.

He couldn’t afford another hit, so Danny lunged with his little blade. He wasn’t sure where he was aiming, he just didn’t want to die. He didn’t-

The bone blade was through his chest, pain flared so bad he almost didn’t notice the blood pouring from the fae’s neck. Danny’s dagger had struck just right, that the fae lost their grip on the blade as they began to sink to the floor.

“How-?” Their voice was weak. “You’re but a mere child…”

“Looks-” Danny coughed. “Looks like you picked the wrong prince to try to punish.”

The fae’s form began to turn to dust, their blade following along.

With the blade gone, Danny’s wound started to bleed with more flow. Shit, he knew it was bad to remove a weapon like that. He tried to apply pressure, unable to call for help. Come to think of it, where were his guards?

They should’ve-

The dust started to rise, though there was no wind.

It seemed to whisper. “Youngling. Do you wish to die a mortal, or continue on…”

Danny thought it’d be dumb to reply. He was probably just dilutional from blood loss. Of course he didn’t want to die. He wasn’t done yet.

Without replying, the hallucinated whisper responded. “Wise choice…”

The swirling dust flew at him, and into the chest wound. The pain stopped. At least from the wound.

Danny could feel the dust, spiraling through him. He couldn’t tell if his blood was boiling or freezing, he couldn’t even scream. Or maybe he was screaming?

No one came rushing to his aid though. He collapsed and the last thing he was aware of, was chains, that seemed to emerge from where his once wound had been, began to wrap around his body. Moving almost like snakes to bind him.

He vaguely was aware that they‘d be gone when he woke next.

“Danny, there you are.” Danny peaked open an eye at the voice calling to him. Tucker was-

“Dude, we’ve been looking all over for you. Sleeping at your desk is going to make your back suffer.” This time it was Sam.

“Sorry, I-” Danny sat up. How did he get to his desk, and-? He looked to his letter opener, it wasn’t in two? And the Pendant. The glowing ring on it was gone. It was just a shiny black rock.

“I guess I’ve been working too hard.” It was all a dream?

“Probably. You should head to an actual bed, or I’ll tell Jazz.”

Danny gestured in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare bother the kind princess with something so petty.”

“I would, and she’d take you off your duties for a week.”

“Then there would be a back log…” Danny got up and grabbed the pendant. “In all seriousness, I might actually be working too hard. I didn’t even notice I’d fallen asleep.”

“Then get to bed sleepy head. Want an escort?”

“Nah, you both can head home. Thanks for waking me up. If Jazz had found me asleep there, it would’ve been bad.”

They both waved him off.

Once in his room, Danny's reflection caught his eye. Right in the center of his chest there was a glowing scar. It was where the blade had gone through. It pulsed with each heartbeat.

Danny had a feeling getting any sleep tonight was going to be impossible.

-----

It took a week til he noticed the door appear that no one else could see. Then another few days till he gave into the temptations to enter it.

End notes:

The eclipse is Danny's eyes and the pendant so I couldn't figure out a good place to separate the two chapters cause Walker's Bone Blade was going to be for Weapon, so I just didn't x'DD

Hope you enjoy this cause I got more planned for the Fantasy AU (It'll probably get it's own fic after DannyMay with some edits.)

#Dannymay2023 #danny phantom #dp #Fantasy AU #my art #my fic #draws

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animeyanderelover · 5 months

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I couldn’t resist🥺.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, threats, intimidation, isolation, poisoning, abduction

Yandere Unohana Retsu

🩸The definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Unohana’s look and demeanor are nothing but deceiving. She’s mellow, soft-spoken, polite and kind. Nothing could ever make you initially suspect what awaits under that facade of her and that isn’t Retsu’s goal either. At least not at such an early stage. Instead she draws you in with her personality as the captain of the 4th Division and shows you nothing but compassion and gentleness. Whenever you’re brought into the hospital, she caters personally to your needs with a worried yet warm smile on her face. She brushes your worries off, tells you that she gladly spends time with you and it isn’t like she’d just allow anyone to nurse you back to health. Unohana knows that she’s grown a tad bit too possessive over you and she understands that such strong and dark emotions would frighten you and tear you away from her. She can’t have you avoiding her in order to avoid any ugly actions she might take then so she hides everything behind her smile. It’s no problem, she has patience.

🩸Beyond her knowledge that you’d be frightened of her if you’d discover her unhealthy attraction to you, Unohana never doubts nor questions her own feelings though. As the first Kenpachi and former captain of the 11th Division centuries ago, she herself knows best what dark and violent longings are alive inside of her. It’s just unfortunate that you are the center of her infatuation. Truly, the woman almost pities you a bit since she could destroy you, sniff your life out if she would ever show you her true colours. Luckily for you, you’re precious to her. She wants to protect you, treasure you, keep you, devour you… Despite her best attempts to hide her old self, the feral and possessive part slowly cracks through her in short moments the longer you spend time around the Captain. A part of her wants you to see how she truly is, she even fantasizes about your cowering body trembling with fear as you see her as Unohana Yachiru whilst she’d coddle over your visible fright with a dark smile on her face. Her rational part prevents such desires from bursting out for longer than a few moments though, leaving you confused and slightly scared.

🩸She’d never let anyone else have you, touch you, love and ruin you like she desires in her darkest fantasies about you. Yet Unohana rarely, if ever, shows her most twisted side. She keeps her smile, allows you to roam freely around and interact with whoever you want whilst keeping a sharp eye on you. She partially uses her own squad members to keep herself informed about you, uses her kind persona to coax information out of you herself. Jealously is never a problem as much as her dwelling possessive claim over you is. She could go on a killing spree if nothing would hold her back but with Yamamoto in the picture plus her own duties as the captain of the 4th Division, she holds herself back. Yet her old side slips out of her in certain moments, her spiritual pressure tainting the air, making every breath difficult and eliciting goosebumps to erupt on everyone’s skin who is around her. She can be quite scary, can she not? Or is that just the imagination of you and the other person?

🩸Fights have always given her great pleasure and thrill, her sword has cut down too many to count. And yet… she withdraws any violence as her first solution. It is tempting at times, to splatter blood everywhere, to let her inner beast out and bear its fangs. Yet times have changed. Rules have been established and she cannot do as she wants to do anymore and that’s for the better. If she’d unleash her true feelings, she’d slaughter far too many to keep what she desires for only herself. So Unohana has to find other more acceptable ways. Intimidating others, allowing a small amount of her bloodlust to appear on her face often works as she can frighten anyone by doing so. Bending, twisting and changing the rules of Soul Society a bit to get rid of any pesky nuisances who dare to try to take the person she desires. To the blind eye this might appear to be unfair. However, Unohana is being merciful by using such methods. Otherwise crimson will flow and stain everything in its path.

🩸How easy everything would be if you would just be part of her own squad. She’d never let you leave her side, she’d always keep you close to her. So close that she could grab you and never let you go, basking in the feeling of your quickened breath and accelerated heartbeat and the warmth of your skin. However, one cannot always get what they wish for. If you shouldn’t be a Squad 4 member, she has no choice but to let you go. For now. She’s brooding, thinking, calculating how to never let you two be separated for too long without anyone suspecting anything. An abduction might be too obvious, too risky if Yamamoto would decide to put his word in. Unohana needs to know how far he’ll let her go before doing anything. For now she resorts to another solution. Drugging and poisoning you, slowly weakening you and forcing you to stay for extended periods of time in the hospital. She’s around you, promising you that she’ll heal you and get you fit in no time. A lie told straight to your face without any resonance of guilt inside of her as her fingers brush your cheek softly. Weak. Helpless. Utterly at her mercy. Truly, the sight of you never fails to make her heart flutter inside of her chest.

🩸Whenever she decides to wander through the landscape of her world, she takes you along with her. You always wonder why she doesn’t take someone else like her lieutenant or someone from her own squad yet she always softly insists that she’d like you to tag along with her. Medical herbs are always collected on such days and you leave with too much knowledge about such plants than you can remember anyways. It’s always too short to confirm, too fleeting for you to properly recognize but sometimes you imagine to see something flashing over her face, her expression darkening and her eyes gleaming with something so sinister that it gives you the chills. Dear, if she could, Unohana would devour you. How tempting your warm lips are, how enchanting the feeling of your hands against her body and how alluring the warmth of your body. Everything boils down to Yamamoto’s opinion about her feelings because if there is one person who will find out about her obsession, it is no one else than the captain of the 1st Division. She will try to fall in line as much as she can if she recognizes that she has to hold back. If she recognizes that he will look over her questionable feelings as long as she fulfills her duties, she has more room to navigate through which ultimately means for you that you’re left at her mercy.

#yandere bleach #yandere unohana #yandere unohana retsu #yandere unohana yachiru

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ghouletteanon · 10 months

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The first ghoul to welcome Rain topside is Mist, even before his pack leader Aether names him.

She covers his shivering form with a soft, thick robe, helping him take his first unsure steps on dry ground. He still shivers from the shock, but he calms down when he is concentrating on walking instead of the pain and fright of being ripped from his home. He stumbles over his legs, but she is unwavering in her support as she helps him, and they make their way slowly to Mist’s quarters where she assists him into a bathtub.

“Are you a sweet or salty little fish?” Mist asks, as if it’s not obvious that unlike her the new ghoul had markings from the deepest and darkest parts of the pits. She holds up a package of salts. Not bath salts, just simple sea salt crystals. It’s clear that she was prepared to welcome a new water ghoul, and the new ghoul is touched. You only looked after yourself back in the pits. He is still too tired and discombobulated from the summoning to care about if she wants payback later.

“Salt, please” the new water ghoul says in ghoulish, his voice rough from screaming. The summoning had been rough for him, and breathing air made his throat dry and raspy.

He watches intently how the bathtub gets filled with water from a tap that he thinks has to be magic. He cups his webbed hands under the tap, collecting water and pressing it against his neck gills. His tail unfurls from where he kept it wrapped around his waist, and he splashes around in the water to both his and Mist’s amusement.

Mist sings under her breath as she mixes the salt into the bathwater, and he recognizes it as a siren song from home.

Being topside is not too bad, he thinks as he sinks down in the bath and lets the salt water run through his gills.

#rain ghoul #mist ghoulette #ga writes #wet boy wednesday #unbeta'd

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1neverendingstories1 · 1 year

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Okay so I have a lot of thoughts. Ant-Man: Quantumania spoilers

This.

Okay. I love the first Ant-Man movie. It's a comfort film, it's what made me watch the rest of the MCU. So you can imagine my utter lack of enthusiasm when I was told that quantumania was going to be large scale. Scott, is small scale. He just wants to be a good dad to Cassie and ogle at all the handsome guys he sees when he meets up with avengers.

He's a light character. He's optimistic. He's the comedic relief in every guest star he's in. His lightness works so well to keep people, viewer and villain alike, underestimating him. It has always been used to give him the upper hand both emotionally and intellectually. Knowing this? Makes Kang's introduction—because that's what this really is, Kang The Conqueror not He Who Remains, is why this movie was made—all the more perfect. Well, it would've been had the writers given it the chance that was so clearly there, had they tried to give it focus.

Kang was mostly a mysterious figurehead who spoke of horrors and wars and destroyed little children's worlds like Sylvie’s for the "sacred timeline" with just the promise of more of his destruction if variations were allowed. That is what I've always considered to be his Thanos introduction. His single appearance in Loki was Kang's version of the multiple teasers throughout phases 1-3 that Thanos had. It was faster, more efficient and more powerful because it told you exactly what he is capable of without making you figure it out or wait. It told you he is the end, no half of the universe no half of our heroes will survive. He did it all in a single episode. He did it all to make you know, so when we next see him we can feel.

Kang and Scott are extreme contrasts. They are light and dark personified. Their power difference ("you're out of your league") is so severe that they don't just not belong in the same fight they don't belong in the same movie. And that's exactly why Scott was the perfect person to introduce Kang.

Scott, while incredibly intelligent and did outsmart the forced field Kang set up, and did destroy the power source, is physically helpless to Kang. He was stepped on, broken and bloodied in just a few seconds under Kang's strength. Just his body's strength. And as Scott was forced to ground Kang looked at him in pity. Kang pitied the man he was killing because it was, laughably, inevitable. Scott has no way of winning. He knew that and said so himself. He knew the only way to get rid of Kang was to lose, for them both to lose and—isn't that a thought. "Our hero was entirely helpless, he could only get rid of Kang if he also lost, are all our hero's going to be helpless? Lose everything to Kang. Is that the only way to be rid of him?" This is how it should've felt at the end of quantumania to properly build the foundation for phase 5.

These two would've been able to bring the full fright and might of the upcoming Kang Dynasty had marvel let the movie be an Ant-Man movie. Quantumania should have been allowed to be like it's previous two in the franchise and been a comedy, had focused on what made this franchise shine: it's relationships: Scott and Cassie, Scott and Hank, Luis and Kurt, the blended family; the light even in the darkest of times. Instead it focused on the VanDyne women. Mainly Janet. Having the focus on Janet, her mysterious-past-arch with knives and fights and guns and the morbidity of being lost from your loved ones—while admittedly intriguing and worth exploring sometime else—that complete lack of light stole that weight the scale put upon this movie desperately needed. And Hope demanded darkness in her scenes with her curiosity of what horrors took her mother from her and ripped her father from her emotionally for years (and this is all interesting and important for her character/viewer and should be expanded upon further and could even be paralleled with Cassie so we can eventually see a bond between those two). However for this film to work, she needed to either learn how to finally accept light with her parents and Scott alike, or have already accepted it. Her scenes with Scott were extremely sweet, I will admit, but her relationship with her parents were more the focal point since the very beginning. Cassie, Hank, and Scott carried the lightness, but it wasn't enough to balance out the scale with the sheer severity of Kang's darkness, and the VanDyne women's additions.

Seeing Janet and Kang interact made me lose the fear of Scott dying. I shouldn’t have lost that fear. Focusing on Janet being relatively fine (considering), and physically unharmed the whole movie, and having escaped Kang even after having destroyed his entire pursuit in life for years eliminated any fear of Scott dying. I walked into the movie believing he was doing to die, and I walked out thinking I was crazy for even entertaining the idea. I shouldn’t lost that fear. We shouldn’t lose the fear of the man who threatened us with multiversal war in Loki. If they used Janet’s and Kang’s bond when he was banished and she was alone, not to show how cool Janet is (though yes she absolutely is for outsmarting and trapping him), but to parallel Janet to Scott it would’ve helped not only the film’s pacing but also to connect the viewer to Kang.

Thanos, he had a reason. His purpose was perhaps one of the simplest motivations to understand. Kang, however, has an infinite amount of variants. What we know so far is that he wants power, he wants to conquer. When he’s done all that he wants to conquer himself; hence the war that started the scared timeline. But. Why did one of his variants decide to stop this? What would cause this variant to suddenly become guilt ridden, compassionate, tired of himself and his suffering he both experiences and causes? Kang is complex. He’s so very interesting. But how can we as the viewers even begin to care about this man who, whenever we see a sympathetic variant, gets killed off (Sylvie, Scott) before we can see why? Why did he change? Why would we care if we’re denied the opportunity to learn.

Paralleling Janet to Scott and only through the eyes of Kang would’ve given the casual viewer the opportunity to ask why. Kang bonded with Janet over her kindness in saving his life, he valued her’s because of it. He wanted to eliminate her pain and bring her home to her daughter. But once she saw who he was she left and tried to stop him. That’s exactly what Scott is trying to do here. Get home to earth and protect his daughter, stop Kang when he tries to hurt others. If Kang saw this and still tries kill him? Still tries to hurt everyone for his “great mission”? It would make Kang so much more approachable to understand. You would want to know why he would still hurt people he saw value in. He considers them good, yet he kills, and still sees himself as good?

Ugh I don’t know. I feel like this franchise was the perfect one to introduce the Kang Dynasty but they just didn’t do it well. And they didn’t do it justice to the original Ant-Man or any of its characters.

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moonjella · 2 years

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23 : 59 PM — NA JAEMIN

pairing || bad boy!jaemin x good girl!reader

synopsis || the best way to scare people this halloween is to make everyone afraid of their deepest secrets being revealed. that's exactly what the anonymous gossip column is doing. every night at 23 : 59 PM, a huge secret is exposed to all, starting with the notorious bad boy, na jaemin. you can only hope you'll get through the month safely, but halloween fast approaches, and so does jaemin.

content || female reader, reader is a virgin, mild bullying, the setting is pretty unrealistic, no smut but sexual references.

word count || 6.2k

author's note || for @underworldnet’s halloween event — day five : midnight.

Happy Halloween!

Or should we say unhappy?

It looks like this month is going to be the most frightful you’ve ever seen!

What better way to scare your sorry souls this Halloween than to reveal all of your deepest and darkest secrets?

That’s right! Every night at exactly 23:59PM, we’ll reveal a secret that will wreck the body of this sorrowful campus and cover its walls with the blood of rage.

No one is safe from our watchful eyes.

So, you best watch your behaviour or you might find yourself in the headlines, starting with our notorious bad boy, Na Jaemin.

Turns out, the bad boy isn’t as bad as he seems. A little bridie tells us that he’s never dropped his pants for anyone despite what he likes to make you all believe. The truth is: Na Jaemin is, in fact, still a virgin.

You didn’t pay much attention to the message before you went to bed last night, but it’s a hot topic as soon as you step outside of your room.

Paying attention to the anonymous gossip column was something you rarely find yourself doing but you’d be lying if you say it didn’t spark your interest now.

Especially when the campus has turned into a hotspot for chaos overnight.

You never doubted that Na Jaemin is the most talked about student on campus but this really surprised you.

His name falls from the lips of every person you pass.

“Can you believe it?”

“What a fake!”

“I don’t blame him for lying but did he really want that kind of reputation?”

“I don’t know, I kind of like the fact that he’s still a virgin under all those layers.”

“Please, you actually believe that crap? The column is just looking for attention. There’s no way he’s still a virgin.”

There they are again.

People are always judging others for things that had nothing to do with them. So what if he’s a virgin? So what if he isn’t?

It’s not anyone’s business but his own.

But you know pretty well how much the people on this campus love to get involved in other people’s business.

And you blame the gossip column for it.

It existed since you arrived at this institution and long before that. Some rumours even said it was part of the school newspaper in its early days before technology had advanced.

It held no purpose other than to entertain, to keep people talking and gain numbers.

It had its rises and falls but it somewhat frustrates you that to this day, the majority of students and faculty here are more concerned about meaningless gossip than grades.

You sigh and shove your earphones in. A random song plays as an attempt to avoid the gossip. It’s not that you’re immune to gossip, you enjoy your share of it but what was the point in revolving all of your attention around gossip?

Now is the time to focus on studying, not on so–called secrets which likely have no evidence to back them.

Most of the nonsense the anonymous column came up with is either hearsay or exaggerated truths for the sake of attention. And the audience are dumb enough to buy into it.

Countless couples broke up, staff members lost their livelihoods, students failed their classes.

Gossip reaches every nook and cranny of this campus and it ruins lives, whether the gossip is true or not.

You enter your classroom and everyone is buzzing.

It doesn’t take you long to realise why.

At this point in the semester, attendance is always at its lowest but the room seems fuller than you’ve seen before.

Because he is in this class.

Not that he attends every lesson like you do. Na Jaemin is far from a diligent student but even you see him every now and then.

Because unfortunately, he sits next to you.

You settle into your seat and pull out your textbooks. The teacher still hasn’t arrived but you prepare while pulling out your earphones. And you regret it immediately.

“The two virgins are sitting together.” A classmate says, and a large number of the rest burst out into laughter.

A chill comes from the blood running in your veins. Yet, at the same time, your body feels hot.

“I bet he’ll drop out. I’d never show my face again if I was him.”

Do they ever stop talking?

It wouldn’t surprise you if those people are the same people running the column, finding joy in ruining the lives of others.

And what’s worse is that you’re sure the people saying these things are the same people who acted all buddy with Jaemin the week before.

Is being a virgin really that bad?

“I have nothing against virgins but don’t lie about it,” one of them says, and the voice belongs to someone who’s tormented you in the past for what they supposedly have nothing against. The hypocrisy stirs a fire in your belly. “What are you going to do if he comes in?”

The thought provokes you.

What exactly can they do other than talk about him?

You doubt he’d turn up at all but even if he did, they’d all cower at the sight of him.

Virgin or not, he’s still a guy to be weary of.

They could call you names and throw paper with insults written on it at you, but would they dare do it to him?

You don’t want to be here to find out if they do. God knows what would happen to them.

“Alright, settle down!” your professor enters. “Enough of the chatting and more of the opening books.”

The first half hour of the class flies by.

It’s quiet save for the nonstop whispering at the back of the room. It irritates you that they’re still talking but at least you can no longer make out their words.

You’re busy scribbling notes to keep up with your professor who is a little too fast for your liking but you can always fix your notes in your free time.

You’re so invested that you’re only pulled from your focus when the room turns completely silent.

If it was quiet before, it’s a complete void now.

A pin would be too afraid to drop in this silence and it’s as if everyone stopped breathing.

You realise why when you look up.

Na Jaemin has entered the room.

The whispers start up again when he meets his chair, the chair right next to you and you almost cringe when he drops into it.

He doesn’t even get out his textbooks or a notepad or even a pen.

He just… sits.

The professor notices but he doesn’t say anything and you’re glad. Just get the lesson over with and get out of here before it blows like a ticking time bomb.

Like always, the whispers turn to chatters towards the end of the lesson. Only a few people are paying attention and Jaemin is still staring daggers into the chalkboard.

You shift in your seat as discreetly as you can before finishing up your notes. And when the class is done, you’re about to pack your things away when you feel something hit your shoulder.

The crumpled piece of paper bounces onto the desk in front of you.

It’s been a while since you receive one of these and you know you should pick it up and toss it straight in the bin. But as much as you want to avoid the shitty things people say, you still open it up.

In bright red, it reads: VIRGINS.

Along with other curses and vulgar comments.

Well, there’s no avoiding it anymore.

You’re now lumped in with Na Jaemin.

Or is it the other way around?

You don’t have time to process your feelings before they are snatched away by Jaemin along with the piece of paper. He doesn’t hurt you when he does, but he certainly startles you.

Whipping around, you follow his tall frame as he marches to the back and shoves it into some random guys chest. The face that was previously riddled with a menacing smile is now filled with fear as Jaemin towers above him.

“The fuck are you playing at?”

“Hey!” someone else shouts, catching the attention of the professor. “You just hit him!”

“I barely touched him,” Jaemin laughs. “Wanna explain why you wrote this?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Jaemin swallows silently.

“Enough of that!” The professor finally arrives at the commotion. He yanks at Jaemin who gives in and lets go of the guy.

Everyone else pours out of the room for the sake of avoiding being in the firing line.

Your professor looks at both guys expectantly, waiting for an explanation. When he gets nothing from them, he turns to you, who probably should have left by now.

“YN, care to explain what happened?”

“They… they threw a ball of paper at us.”

“Fucking snitch!” the guy starts but Jaemin is shoving him against the wall again, and the professor is prying him off.

His words hit you like an arrow. You’re not a snitch. You’re simply telling the truth. And telling the truth will get you out of this mess.

Or so you thought.

“I want you all back here at the end of the day.”

“What for?” the guy huffs.

“Punishment. You can clean out my cabinets for almost causing me a heart attack.”

You’re certain school violence is supposed to go through proper procedure but you don’t say anything. You don’t want to be called a snitch again.

“Back here at the end of the day. All three of you.”

“W–why me?” you ask. “I didn’t do anything.”

Jaemin has grabbed his bag and storms out of the classroom, leaving a waft of his cologne travelling up your nose. And the other guy is ready to leave, too.

He mutters another snitch on his way out.

The look on your professor’s face makes you too afraid to protest further so you swallow grimly and leave the classroom with the reminder to come back.

As expected, you’re the only one who turns up.

And your professor left you to spend his free time in the faculty room while you clean out the old cupboard and reorganise his bookshelves. You don’t know how long it’s been but you quickly feel exhausted and take a break.

When you check the time, you inwardly groan upon realising only twenty minutes have passed.

If only the other two were here, then the job would get done much quicker. But having them together again doesn’t seem like the best idea. You heard they got into it again at lunch.

You’re about to attack the dusty pile of books with a feathery duster when you hear the door open.

“Did you want these moving to the cabinet at the back? I figured since they don’t get used it might be good to move them and free up some… space.”

You trail off when you see Jaemin entering the room instead of your professor.

Biting your lip, you quietly turn around and continue cleaning them. You hear him drop his bag on a random desk and his scent hits you before the sight of him does.

He could probably tell you’re avoiding him but it doesn’t seem like he cares.

You carry on, not letting his presence shake you. Picking up a pile of books, you start walking to the back of the classroom but the dark–haired boy steps in front of you. You heart skips a beat — is he going to confront you about what happened this morning?

Is he going to call you a snitch, too?

You wince slightly as he moves closer but to your surprise, he simply takes the pile of books from you.

And you, being too nervous to comprehend what he’s doing, hold on to them tightly.

“Give me the books.” He says, simply and effortlessly.

You’d be lying if you said his voice alone doesn’t make you quiver.

“I… I can carry them myself.” You pull them back to you, feeling the spines hit your stomach a little too eagerly. But he doesn’t let up.

“Just give them to me.”

A scoff escapes you before you can stop it and he’s taken aback. You don’t think you’ve ever scoffed so loud before. And it would be your luck exactly to have done it at Na Jaemin.

You think he might scream at you, or even hit you.

But when you look up at him, you can’t find it in you to be scared. Even with a bruise blooming on his cheekbone, his face is too calm, too pretty to feel afraid.

He’s somewhat…relaxing.

Is the boy in front of you really him?

You shake your head a little too obviously and he passes you a weird luck.

The thoughts escape from you. You’ve never been on friendly terms with him and you’re not planning on starting now.

He pulls at the books one more time and your hands slip from the bottom of the pile. Your apparent inability to pass books to someone leads to them falling out of Jaemin’s loose grip and onto the floor between you.

You’re not looking at him but you can feel the way his eyes roll to the back of his head in annoyance.

You sigh and immediately start piling them up again, straightening the pages that got bent.

There’s a little vigour in your efforts, slamming them one on top of the other. You hope he can tell you’re frustrated. If only he didn’t get involved, you would be on your knees picking them up and inspecting their damage.

He left earlier. There was no need for him to come back.

But still, he crouches next to you with a deadpan face and helps you pick them up again.

It’s silent and awkward, but he breaks the tension.

“You can say something, you know.” He sighs, almost as if he was expecting you to speak.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Everyone has something to say.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “You mean about the gossip column?”

His silence is your answer. And your confirmation that what they said is true.

“I guess it’s a little frustrating,” you confess after a while. “All the times you used to tease me for being a virgin when you were one all along.”

He stops and remain silent with his head hung low.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s your turn to be taken aback. The last thing you expected from him was an apology.

“I was an ass. I still am. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you and you feel enamoured by his gaze. His black hair makes his eyes darker. But you find some warmth in them.

“Why?” you blurt out.

“Why… what?”

“Why did you say those things?”

He shrugs. “They say the things you hate in others are the things you hate in yourself.”

He’s taken the books and places them at the back of the room while you dwell in thought.

Jaemin hates you?

Because you’re a virgin, just like him?

It doesn’t make sense.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.” You say.

“Maybe not in principle. But reality is a whole different story.”

He’s not wrong. There’s nothing wrong in the essence of being a virgin, but at this kind of school with this kind of campus, every single trait about a person can and will be picked at.

Even the most precious thing a person can have can become a fatal flaw.

You both continue to clean quietly, finishing quicker than you expected with little chatter between you.

“You shouldn’t listen to what others are saying,” you tell him as you leave together. “They only care about making others feel bad just so they can feel better about themselves. They’ll have forgotten about you tomorrow.”

“I don’t take it to heart,” he explains. “I don’t feel hurt or anything. But I feel angry. And when that happens, I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

“Maybe you should try therapy.” You suggest. “There are lots of ways to overcome anger issues.”

“Are you diagnosing me, Doctor YN?”

“No,” you grin. “It was just a suggestion.”

He chuckles quietly, so quiet that you only just catch it and it causes a flutter in your chest.

You never thought you and Jaemin would be smiling together but here you are.

“Shall I… walk you back to your house or something?” he asks awkwardly.

“No, it’s fine,” you say.

“You sure? It’s getting dark.”

“It’s not far, I promise.”

“Which way are you walking?” you point in your direction. “Me, too. Come on.”

He’s already speeding ahead of you and your calves begin to burn from catching up to him but he keeps the speed up all the way to your house.

“Hm, we live pretty close.” He says.

You thank him for walking you home safely, but not for the unexpected leg and cardio workout. Waving goodbye, you close the door and run to the nearest window, hiding behind the curtain as to not show you’re watching him.

He’s already set off on his own path, disappearing into the dull evening.

As you expected, the talk of Jaemin has since disappeared and everyone is now talking about the janitor who was caught having sex with a member of staff in the storage closet.

Evidence was provided to the faculty and they were both sacked by the time you arrived.

It’s only day two of the month. To think there are twenty–nine more days of this…

Jaemin enters the class late as usual, but also a little earlier than usual.

The class goes by as normal but you’re distracted the entire time. You can’t stop thinking about yesterday.

When you look, his bruise has faded a little bit but when he catches you staring, you bury your head in a book again.

The hour passes by in a second and you feel you’re about to explode from embarrassment so as soon as the bell sounds, you’re running out of the classroom away from him.

But to your dismay, he follows you with eagerness.

“YN, wait up!”

You have no choice but to slow down now that everyone is looking. He catches up and you look at him expectantly.

“Is there something you need?”

He’s wordless for a minute, rubbing the back of his neck as if it would push the words out of his throat.

“I, uuhh… I was thinking, maybe you could help me with some work?”

“Oh… what work is it?”

“A lot of it, actually.”

“I mean, I spend most of my time studying so I don’t know if I’d have a lot of time to help you.”

“We… we could study together.”

You sigh. “You can always ask your professors.”

“They don’t give me the time of day,” he says. “Besides, it’s not for long. It’s just so I can start getting the hang of things and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“I…” can’t say no.

“Please,” he urges you. “Just for a few weeks.”

“Okay.”

The weeks passed and you find yourself spending more and more time with Jaemin. And although people give you weird looks, no one is saying anything anymore.

He’s a lot less frivolous that you imagined. He started turning up to classes more punctually and met with you on time for each of your sessions. There isn’t much to it other than revising the content from the classes you share together.

He’s a quiet person. He doesn’t have a lot to say but he likes to ask a lot of questions. You wonder why he doesn’t do the same during class.

And most nights, when he doesn’t have other commitments, he takes it upon himself to walk you home.

Upon getting to know him, Jaemin is far from the person you once knew him to be.

Meanwhile, the gossip column stood true to its word — be it members of staff having affairs or students giving indecent favours to teachers for good grades or even someone secretly being a millionaire, there’s something new to talk about every day.

Some of the stuff turns out to be true, the rest of it laughable. You wonder if one day your name will appear in the headlines. It’s a distasteful thought — you can’t think of anything you’ve kept a secret that would be notable to the column but still, no one is safe.

Even you and Jaemin had fallen into the habit of discussing them at the end of your study sessions. While you walk out of the library together, a rumble sounds from your belly. A really big one.

He snorts with laughter and you could melt into the ground from embarrassment.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“I feel like my stomach is about to grow arms and legs just to find some food.”

“Good. I know the perfect place.”

And that is how you end up with Jaemin dragging you by the hand into a cosy diner.

The woman behind the counter smiles upon seeing him.

“The usual?” she asks.

Jaemin holds up two fingers. “Two.”

She nods upon spotting you with him and glances down to where your hands are connected. As if by force, you unclasp your hands and follow Jaemin to an empty booth.

“Do you come here often?”

He nods while collapsing on the other side of the table.

“I used to come in here, shouting and trashing the place for years.”

“She must be fond of you.” you say with a hint of sarcasm.

“Not until I stopped doing all that. Now I come here every weekend with my mom.”

Cute.

He tells you more about his mom and how she used to come to this diner all the time when she was younger. Jaemin felt ashamed to have disrespected a person his mother loved, and so began his journey of change.

He fascinates you in every way imaginable.

“Good to see you getting your head down, Jaem.” The owner says as she delivers two plates of burgers with fries and two chocolate milkshakes and she winks at you. “Don’t let him get out of line.”

“Thank you.”

She returns behind the counter and you can’t hold back from eating any longer.

“Is there a reason for it? The way you acted?” you ask with a mouthful of burger.

“People said it from the beginning. They labelled me as the bad boy when I was just a kid doing stupid things. And being the kind of kid I was, I kept on doing those stupid things. It got worse. I needed to live up to that name. I needed attention so I forced people to pay attention to me. I called them names, I stole their money, I even hit them.

But it was never enough.”

You chew on your fries slowly.

“But my mom changed jobs a while ago, so she had more time to spend with me. She realised how bad I actually was and she’s helping me to be better. I stopped fighting people. Well…I tried to. I stopped taking money, I stopped the namecalling. And I realised, it’s not so bad when people don’t pay attention.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m sure you know. Life is so much easier when people don’t look at you, when they don’t talk about you.”

You know that all too well.

All these months, Jaemin was trying. He was getting better and you didn’t notice. No one did.

You can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him when the gossip column posted. He must have felt so at peace until everyone was paying attention to him all over again.

“It feels weird saying this but I’m proud of you, Jaemin.”

“What for?” he chuckles.

“I don’t know. It must have been difficult for you all this time.”

“I can’t always be the bad person.”

He bites into his burger quietly. It seems this is as far as he’s going so you continue eating with him.

“Can I ask you something else?”

He nods.

“Why are you telling me this? It all sound so… personal. And we’ve only known each for a few weeks.”

He pouts his lips in thought and sips his milkshake.

“I’ve never had any real friends,” he says. “But I always thought, if I ever had a friend, I’d want it to be you.”

“Why?” you giggle. “I’m sure there are many better candidates.”

“There isn’t.” he says simply.

He’s not a man of many words, as you can tell. But it feels comfortable.

You’ve finished your meals and are lost in a completely different conversation. Now you’re talking and giggling about the dumb things some teachers have said.

You’re clutching your stomach when a group of loud customers come in. You recognise them immediately.

Jaemin’s demeanour also changes with yours as he looks over your shoulder and spots them.

It’s the same group of people who threw that ball of paper at you and Jaemin.

And they’re making their way towards you.

“Look who it is! The two virgins are on a date.”

They burst out into laughter and you feel your skin burn.

Jaemin is seething but it’s nothing compared to you.

Bothering you in school is one thing, but humiliating you in public?

You can’t stand it.

You were having such a nice time.

You’re half–expecting them to piss off Jaemin to the point where he’ll attack them again but he remains calm. He looks you in the eyes with a softness you’ve never seen before.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks.

You nod and begin scooting out of your seat but when you do, you turn around to a loud commotion.

The other guy has Jaemin by the collar.

“Where ya going, buddy? Leaving so soon?”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything, but his fists are gripping tightly onto the other guy. You can tell he’s trying to not lash out, his limbs are trembling ever–so–slightly.

You can hear the owner shouting, there’s a waiter heading over to stop it from escalating but before you know it, you’re grabbing your half–finished milkshake and tossing it onto the guys back.

Everyone gasps, you included and Jaemin stares at you in what look like awe, but also shock.

“What the hell?” the guy flails around trying to get the cold, thick liquid off of him.

Before anyone can tell him it was you, you grab Jaemin’s hand and run out of the diner.

“I’m sorry!” you yell.

To the guy, to Jaemin, to the owner? You’re not quite sure but you’re running fast and Jaemin keeps up with you easily.

You don’t stop until your lungs are about to give out.

Both of you bend over, heaving until you catch your breaths.

“Didn’t know you were the type to hit and run.” Jaemin says.

“Oh, god,” your entire body cringes. But you also feel like you’re floating. “I think I’m having an adrenaline rush.”

Your heart is elated and there’s a strange spring of pleasure surging through your body.

As terrifying as it was, you could do it all over again.

“You’re good,” Jaemin rubs your back and you wonder how many times he’s done something like this before. He must be used to the rush of excitement. “It’ll pass soon.”

When your limbs begin to relax, he places his jacket over your shoulders and guides your lower back to start walking.

It’s dark and he doesn’t move his hand until you arrive at your door.

“Feel better now?”

You nod. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Trust me, it’s not the worst thing you could have done.”

“It sure feels like it, though.”

He passes you a gentle smile.

“Why did you do that?”

You bite your lips. “It just felt like the right thing to do…”

And you didn’t want Jaemin to end up in another fight.

“Thanks… for saving me, I guess.”

“If running away is what a saviour does, then I will proudly wear my badge of honour.” You grin.

“I’m serious. It must have taken guts for you to do that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stand up to someone.”

“I can’t always be the good person.”

He smiles a charming smile, one that is also filled with pride.

“I’m becoming good, you’re becoming bad. It feels like the world is turning upside down.”

“It does,” you grin. “But I like it.”

“Let’s crash their party.” You say as soon as you sit in your seat.

The classroom is empty save for Jaemin who arrived before you.

“You want to crash the halloween party?” you nod eagerly. “Who are you and what have you done with YN?”

“I’m serious,” you whine, crossing your arms and pouting. “They deserve it after last night. We should teach them not to mess with us.”

You almost feel like a bad influence on him which is ironic because anyone would think it would be the other way around.

“Okay. Say we crash do their party, what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know… pour salt into their punch and steal all of their snacks?”

His head drops as he laughs and you feel disheartened that you can’t see him smiling when he covers his lips.

“I can still hear you laughing even when you try to hide it, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But…wow… salty punch and no snacks… that will definitely ruin their party.”

“Then what’s your plan?”

“I never said I was on board with this plan.”

“Come on,” you pull at his arm playfully. “We don’t need to hurt them. Just ruin the party. We can even wear masks so no one knows it’s us.”

He inspects your face and you take advantage of him by employing your puppy eyes.

“Please…”

“…Fine. But I’m choosing our costumes.”

“Great! Let’s make a list of all the things we can do.”

You about to scribble down your plan but Jaemin’s warm hand encompasses yours.

“Not now,” you follow his eyes to the group of students entering. “Meet up after school?”

“I’m studying tonight.”

“Meet me at the diner? We can study and make the plan after.”

You nod with a huge smile.

“It’s a date.”

Very little studying had taken place in the following days. Your main efforts were spent avoiding the group of bullies with Jaemin and the rest went into your incredible plan to crash the party.

It feels so rebellious. Simply walking into the house of the people who want to beat you and Jaemin to a pulp.

But no one knows who you are thanks to the inconspicuous costumes Jaemin chose.

You’re wearing matching white sheets with black sunglasses. You didn’t have the heart to tell him the outfits weren’t the best choice for all the tasks you had tonight but you feel a sense of pride walking around with him like this.

Everyone looks your way, mutters a cute and turns the other away. Thankfully, nobody asks who you are and even the guy you threw a milkshake on is tipsy and wanders over to the two of you to say “cool costumes.”

You try to blend in while sticking together. The costumes definitely stand out but it’s Halloween so no one questions it.

The two of you make it to the kitchen safely and wait for the few partygoers in the to disperse before heading over to the punch.

Jaemin is on lookout while you pull the bag of salt from under your costume and empty it into the bowl of punch.

You use the ladle to stir it in until no one would be able to question the fact that there’s a distasteful amount of salt in there.

“Done?” Jaemin asks, body towering over you.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Now the snacks?”

He nods curtly and you grab a bowl before stuffing it under the whisp of your white sheet. Jaemin does the same and you both scurry out in a fashionable manner. The plan had changed since you would have easily been caught walking out of the house with huge bowls of pretzels and chips so instead you find a dark broom closet and hide them in there.

You make two more rounds before all the snacks are gone completely.

Now onto Jaemin’s part of the plan.

You quickly grab a carton of milk from the fridge and toss it to him and he slips out into the garden. You weren’t sure this part of the plan was necessary but he said it would work.

He’s back inside and walking towards you emptyhanded.

“We are going to get killed if anyone finds out it was us.”

“Relax. Nobody saw, right?”

You shake your head. “I still don’t see the point in it. It’s October. No one will go outside, let alone in the pool.”

“Not yet.” he mutters and you can hear him grinning under his sheet.

He waltzes over to the wall with the thermostat, jamming to the music and when you’re sure nobody is watching, you nudge him as a signal.

He’s dragging you away a second later.

After successfully increasing the temperature, you continue with the last few items on your list to make the party all the less enjoyable.

The temperature rises and so does your heart rate.

Any minute now, somebody could notice things going wrong.

You hear people complaining about the temperature and somebody goes to turn it back down. But it’s not enough. The door to the garden is open and everyone spills out. You even hear people splashing into the pool and then—

“Hey! Who poured milk into my fucking pool?!”

You and Jaemin glance at each other, seeing your reflection in the sunglasses.

He grabs your hand, connecting you sheets and you’re pushing through the crowds of drunk partygoers. It’s hot and sweaty and you can barely breathe under the sheet.

You think you’re heading for the door but Jaemin leads you upstairs.

It feels even hotter when he pulls you into a bedroom and locks the door.

“Jaemin…”

“They would have known it was us if we walked out straight away,” he explains. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You pull off your sheet and shake your head.

“it’s fine.”

You collapse onto the bed and Jaemin joins you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod. “A little scared but tonight’s been fun. Thank you for doing this with me, Jaemin.”

“I couldn’t let you do it by yourself.”

You hum in response, letting your body succumb to the exhaustion. Who knew causing trouble could be so draining?

Jaemin’s hand slips into yours naturally and you both lie there. It’s quiet at first, the only sounds coming from the party downstairs and the ruckus in the garden.

But after a while, you begin talking. Gasping and giggling at all the things you did tonight and making an escape plan. An hour passes and you decide it’s time to finally leave.

Jaemin helps you put your sheet back on, and your sunglasses and you do the same with him.

You stick your heads out of the door at the same time, looking both ways to ensure nobody would catch you. And then you’re speeding down the stairs to the front door.

Only, when you get there, it’s guarded by a buff guy inspecting everyone as they pass through.

“Jaemin…”

“It’s fine,” he assures you and pulls you the other way when you reach the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll find a way out.”

You’ve entered the living room where a crowd of people are dancing. As you look around, you notice people are looking at you.

“We need to blend in,” you say. “We look too suspicious.”

Jaemin’s covered head darts in every direction and notices the attention on the two of you.

He slowly starts moving his body and you do too.

“I don’t know how to dance!” you hiss.

“Neither do I,” he whispers, body close to you. “Just keep moving, it’ll look like we’re dancing.”

You do as he says and wiggle your limbs awkwardly to the beat of the music.

Minutes pass and your muscles ache but it feels quite fun. You can hear Jaemin chuckling at your terrible moves and you poke him for laughing to which he laughs even harder.

You’re lost in the moves and laughter until you feel a vibration in your pocket. As does Jaemin. And everyone else in the room.

You check your phone and Jaemin checks his. It’s hard to read when you’re peering through two slits in a sheet and sunglasses but your heart skips a beat upon reading the message:

While our props go to the worst party of the year — seriously, who made that punch? — the most shocking about it is not the salty punch, nor the absence of snacks, nor the godawful playlist.

You may have spotted two adorable little ghosts floating around the party all night and while they’re far from terrifying, it seems they’ve been up to nothing but trouble. Especially in the bedroom.

Looks like our two virgins aren’t virgins anymore.

What a way to end the month! Make sure to pat their backs on they way out ;)

Happy Halloween, ladies and gents. We’ll be back soon.

#✧ jella writes #✧ jella's fics #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #na jaemin x reader #nct jaemin x reader #nct fluff

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 10 months

Text

Note: you guys must be tired of my Halloween fics already, sorry. Don't worry, also working on requests! But I gotta follow my inspiration.

Part 5 of the Halloween fic, direct follow up to part 4.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Warnings: 18+ suggestive, mentions of bdsm, fright, death, blood. quick mention of suicide, murder, psychosis and mental abuse.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: Sihtric wanted to know your darkest fantasy and you wanted to know why he's so into ghost hunting.

Word count: 3,6k

Masterlist

'I can't wait to love you when you're all locked and chained up.'

***************

The candles in your bedroom had been snuffed out before you and Sihtric took a shower together, washing off the dried blood which had stained both your bodies. You changed the sheets afterwards, before you got back in bed, while Sihtric only lit the candles on the shelves again, mainly for a cosy atmosphere. And as he did, you looked at the time and saw it was still All Hallows Eve, but only for another hour.

'Will you light the candles in the window too?' you asked as you snuck in bed.

'In the window, my love?'

'Please,' you smiled, 'we have to light candles in the window tonight, to help spirits find their way and to keep out evil.'

Sihtric had smiled sweetly at you and lit the candles. He remembered seeing a bottle of Florida water in the spare room and went to look for it. You watched Sihtric curiously, as he came back in the bedroom with the bottle, wetting his finger with the water and then drew a symbol on your window.

'A rune?' you smiled.

'Algiz,' Sihtric said as he continued his drawing carefully, 'for protection.'

'You believe my candles are not enough to protect us?'

The taunting tone in your voice made Sihtric smile as he turned to you.

'Extra protection,' he said and joined you in bed, where you spent the last moments of Halloween smothering each other with kisses and praises. And this was the first Halloween night in years on which you didn't watch a spooky movie, but you would pick your night with Sihtric over a spooky movie any time.

*****************

'So what else are you into?'

You looked up at Sihtric as he held you in his arms, snug against his chest, tucked underneath the covers while the wind howled outside, slamming the very first November rain against your bedroom window. Your fingers were loosely intertwined, and you pecked his chin as you waited for his reply.

'Hm?' Sihtric hummed, 'Oh,' he chuckled, 'I really need to stop blurting out things.'

'No,' you laughed softly, 'I like your honesty. So tell me, what other kinks are you hiding from me?' you winked.

'First of all, I am not hiding anything from you, sweet thing,' he smiled, 'I merely said we shouldn't try everything in one night.'

'And we won't,' you cuddled up closer, 'I'm just curious is all.'

'Well, you asked,' Sihtric sighed, smiling, 'I like whips.'

'Whips?' you giggled, 'to draw blood?'

'No, no,' Sihtric shook his head lightly, 'never like that, my love, never.'

'So you like to be whipped?' you smiled and felt Sihtric nuzzle your ear softly.

'No, I don't like to be whipped,' he chuckled, 'it's… I don't know. Probably makes no sense at all, but I like to whip and spank, you know, those things, but I don't enjoy it being inflicted on myself. Probably a weird childhood trauma somewhere,' he laughed, 'and I don't enjoy doing it because it's painful for the receiver, it's like… what we just did. I enjoy the feeling of surrender and being completely safe,' he kissed your cheek.

'So you love the feeling of power?'

'I love the feeling of trust, my darkness,' Sihtric said softly in your ear, 'it arouses me to know that you trust me enough to let me keep a knife next to your bed. And it arouses me that I trust you as you hold a blade against my neck. It arouses me when someone surrenders entirely to me, but also when I surrender myself to someone. It's all about trust and love.'

'Okay,' you nodded slowly, 'that makes sense, yes. Whips and spanking I get too.'

'So you like that?'

'Well I've never tried whips, but spanking, sure,' you giggled softly, 'I like that.'

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed and nuzzled your ear again, 'I'd like to spank you,' he chuckled in your ear and softly bit your helix.

'I bet you do, mister,' you teased, 'but not tonight.'

'Not tonight,' Sihtric agreed.

'So what else?'

'Chains,' he cleared his throat, 'I like both chaining someone up and being chained up.'

The thought of Sihtric being chained up to your bed sent a quick, pleasurable shiver down your spine. You felt yourself become wet again and you desperately tried to shake the thought of his muscular body, fully surrendered to you, with his toned arms above his head, tied to your bed with metal chains. Or the thought of him chaining you up against a wall, and taking you whichever way he wanted. To quote his own words; you thought he was to die for.

'What are you thinking, my angel?' Sihtric asked when you didn't react.

'Oh,' you snapped out of your fantasy, 'nothing.'

'Liar,' Sihtric smiled and moved to lay next to you, looking into your eyes, his face propped up on his left hand while his free hand settled on your waist, under the sheets.

'Tell me, little bat, what was on your mind,' he kissed your lips softly, 'I already told you I want to know your dark fantasies too.'

'I just… imagined what that would be like.'

'And what did you imagine it would be like?'

You tried to suppress a smile, 'that it would be pretty hot,' you laughed.

'It is pretty hot,' Sihtric smiled and bit down on his lip, 'would you let me chain you up?'

'I think so,' you bit down your lip as well, 'but I don't have the tools for that in my house, sorry.'

'Don't worry,' Sihtric laughed softly and trailed his hand up your body to cup your cheek, 'I have all that and more back home. I wasn't going to do it tonight anyway, you need to rest, let your body heal again before we try something else.' He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss, 'however, you are very much prying into my fantasies, but I still have to hear one spilling from your pretty lips.'

'God, I don't know,' you snorted, 'I haven't done the things you are into it seems, my fantasies must be boring.'

'A fantasy is never boring, and it doesn't matter if you tried it or not. I have fantasies I never tried either.'

'Really?' you laughed, 'and what on earth are those?'

'No,' Sihtric laughed, 'not until you tell me a secret desire of your own,' he looked at you with soft eyes, 'you must have a wild fantasy. Tell me.'

'Hmm,' you hummed as you thought for a moment, and then you started laughing, 'okay, this is really weird I guess.'

'Try me, sweet thing.'

'Okay… so, god, you'll think I'm weird probably, but, uhm,' you chuckled, 'you know those medieval things they used to shame or punish people in? Like a wooden frame in which they'd lock someone with their head and their hands?'

'You mean a pillory?' Sihtric started to grin.

'Yeah, that's the word...'

'What about a pillory?' Sihtric licked his lips and titled his head.

'I don't know, I guess… the idea of, you know,' you laughed, 'getting fucked while being held in one of those things is kinda… arousing?' you felt a little awkward and buried your face under the sheets.

'So,' Sihtric chuckled, 'your fantasy is to be fucked while being locked in a pillory?'

'Yeah?' you pulled the covers down to look at him, 'but I mean… I've never tried it so…'

'Well,' Sihtric pulled the covers away from your face and smirked, 'come to my house and you can try it out,' he winked.

You let out a loud laugh, 'Surely you do not have one of those things in your house.'

'What if I have?'

'You have not,' you frowned with a smile, 'do you?'

'I have.'

'What? Why? How?' you couldn't stop laughing at how ridiculous this was and how aroused it made you at the same time.

'What do you mean why?' Sihtric laughed, 'you just said it yourself. You think it's arousing. And I can confirm it's incredibly arousing. Like the way it-'

'Sihtric, shut up!' you yelled and covered his mouth with your hand, 'just shut up,' you smiled and bit your lower lip.

Sihtric took your hand off his lips and grinned, 'Why? Because it makes you wet just thinking about it? Hm?'

You huffed.

'No,' you lied with a smile.

'No?' Sihtric smirked and leaned in closer, 'so it doesn't arouse you when you think of how I'll lock your head and hands in, and then pull down those sexy lace panties before I spank that cute little ass of yours? Hm? That doesn't excite you, princess?' he licked his lips and smiled, 'or the thought of how I'll fuck you with my fingers before giving you my cock, and you having no way of touching me or seeing me behind you. Or the thought of hearing that wooden frame creak and its locks rattle with each hard thrust into you. That doesn't arouse you?'

'You either stop talking right now or you take me to your house, Sihtric!' you hissed, to which he laughed.

'I'll stop talking, little bat, because I won't take you to my house right now,' he smiled, 'you won't be able to handle that tonight, I can promise you that.'

'Fine,' you giggled and kissed him.

Sihtric moved his hand to the back of your neck, making the kiss sloppier and deeper while he moaned softly against your lips as he pulled you on top of him.

'I can't wait to love you when you're all locked and chained up,' he smiled and flicked his tongue against your lips, 'I will make your dark fantasies come true, I promise,' he whispered, 'all of them.'

'I can't wait,' you smiled against his lips, 'but you still didn't tell me where you bought that pillory?'

'Sweet thing, I didn't buy it,' he chuckled, 'I made it.'

'Really? Like… when you were with your ex? Was she into that then?'

'I had it when I was still married, yes,' Sihtric said, 'but she wasn't into any of this. Which is fine, it's obvious why people don't like it, and it doesn't have to be a problem. But she didn't like anything, no light spanking, not even hair pulling. And I know you wonder why I married her, and the truth is that I was young and foolish when I married. And because I couldn't seem to please her, we were barely intimate the last years of our marriage. And for me, not being able to… to express my love or to relieve myself in the way I enjoy… it just… messes you up. Then after we divorced last year, it took me a while to be intimate again, also thinking that maybe I was just the problem and I was a horrible lover. Eventually I had a couple of one-night stands and, sure, sex is nice when you can do it the way you want, but it just,' Sihtric sighed, 'it never satisfied me. A random hookup who likes to be chained up is still not satisfying to me, it means nothing. None of the few women I shared one night with ever meant anything to me.I mean you just awkwardly wave each other goodbye after the fact and you're still alone at the end of the day. So I stopped hooking up because it only made me more miserable. I… I need to feel love, or rather, I want to feel loved. And no one could make me feel that, until you-'

You crashed your lips onto Sihtric's, kissing him hard and passionately, gripping his dark curls as you trailed your fingertips over the shaved side of his head, deepening the kiss. And he grabbed your hips, pulling you up in his lap before he flipped you on your back, just like he did earlier that night, and he pulled your panties down again.

But this time you made slow, sensual and passionate love, whispering sweet nothings to each other as he bucked his hips slow yet firm against yours. Holding you tightly in his arms, your bodies and lips pressed onto each other until you both reached your high as the candles in your room burned out.

And after that, you both cried while holding each other, because you both had no idea how to express the deep love you felt for one another. And then you fell asleep in each other's arms.

***************

The next morning you woke up before Sihtric. You wanted to stay in his arms all day, but you were hungry, snuck out of his embrace, kissed his cheek, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. And just as you took the first sip of your tea, you heard Sihtric coming down the stairs.

'I couldn't find my hoodie,' he chuckled as he walked over to peck your lips.

'Oh, I think I might have thrown it in the laundry after we showered last night, mistaking it for my own. I'm a simple woman, I see a black hoodie and I assume it's mine,' you smiled, not complaining about the fact he was dressed in only his jeans.

'Well, you can keep it if you give me a shirt I'll fit in,' Sihtric smiled and sat down across from you at the kitchen table, and he looked out the window, 'it's a foggy morning,' he said as the thick fog in your backyard made for a grey curtain.

'My favourite weather,' you both said at the same time, and you started to laugh.

You made him tea and breakfast, and while you found out that his stomach was as big as his heart, you asked him how he got into his so-called spooky interests.

'Many years ago,' Sihtric said, 'when I was still working for the government-'

'Black ops, right?'

'Maybe,' Sihtric winked with a smile, 'but there was a mission. It was me, Uhtred, Finan and another man, who I will not name. I can't give you any details, because technically it never happened, but we had to sleep over at an old prison one night. The nameless colleague was also a friend of ours, and was to keep watch that night. He'd been complaining for a few hours already that he didn't feel well, as if it was hard to breathe or something. But we had no idea what he was on about, because no one else felt or noticed anything weird. Then a few hours later, I was half asleep when I heard weird noises, like someone was wheezing, choking. I tried to ignore it at first but I suddenly felt really cold…'

'Temperature drop?'

Sihtric nodded. 'But I didn't know what that meant at the time. So I sat up and looked over at Uhtred and Finan on my left, they were still asleep. Then I looked to my right, and I found our friend on the floor, waving his arms around as if he was fighting something off him, but there was nothing. I ran over and tried to get him up, but it felt as if he was nailed to the ground. I couldn't pick him up, and…' Sihtric swallowed hard, 'I just… I just watched him die. Suffocating while trying to fight something that wasn't there. And immediately after his last breath, the temperature went back to normal again.'

'Oh my god,' you took his hands, 'Sihtric, I'm so sorry.'

'No,' he shook his head, 'thank you, little bat, but I've dealt with it. I've had plenty of therapy for that.'

'But, wait, how was his death explained?'

'Eventually it was believed he had a stroke. But at first people suspected me. I was the only one who saw it happen. Uhtred and Finan never heard or saw a thing until it was over. As if they were kept asleep, you know? We all had body cams, but Uhtred and Finan were not facing us, and mine somehow had no footage of that entire moment, and the cam of our friend was nowhere to be found, until months later it appeared out of thin air in Uhtred's locker. With a lot of difficulty the footage was retrieved, and it completely cleared my involvement, but the footage was terrifying. You could see how I tried to pull him up and you could hear everything I said and the noises our friend made. Then when I was just at a loss I stepped back, my hands in my hair and just looked at my friend dying. That's when the footage starts to glitch and if you watch it with headphones, you can clearly hear a voice say "die" at some point. It's not my voice and it wasn't my friend's.'

'Jesus christ,' you shivered, 'you're really freaking me out.'

'I know, I'm sorry, babe,' Sihtric said. He pulled you in his lap and wrapped his arms around you. 'But, yeah, this was about six years ago, I was recently married then. And naturally the whole event took over my life. And that is how I became interested and invested in this stuff. It started as a maddening hunt for the truth, but the more I learned, the more I started to understand, and I realised that at a place that has seen as much death as a prison, I would never find out what the reason for my friend's death was. It could've been the spirit of a former inmate who simply just wanted to kill. So I gave up on that, but it had taken my interest in general. And well.. Now I'm here.'

'But how did everyone around you react to your interest?'

'Finan and Uhtred understand it. They believe there are things out there, but they rather look away, which is fair. My ex however,' Sihtric sighed, 'she always believed I did it. That I killed him, despite seeing the footage. She said she didn't hear the voice in the video and made me believe I was hearing and seeing things. She had me committed to a mental hospital for months. I've been medicated because she claimed I had a psychosis, and I started to believe her, so I allowed everything to happen really.'

'What the fuck…' you whispered, 'Sihtric…'

'But that's all over,' he smiled weakly at you, 'I'm not insane, not like that at least.'

'Why on earth did that stay with her?' you asked softly as you raked your fingers through his hair.

'I don't know,' Sihtric scoffed lightly, 'probably afraid to end up alone eventually, or… thinking I didn't deserve better.'

'Sihtric…'

'But then I found you,' he cupped your cheeks, 'I found you and I'm going to keep you,' he smiled and kissed your lips, 'but now I want to know how you got into all this.'

'Oh, well, also many years ago,' you said, 'I had a friend who took his life, he was… we were in love at the time, but we couldn't be together, he lived in a different country. A lot of things happened, we broke up, he got into an accident and ended up taking his own life. And… one night I just felt so heartbroken. I was crying for hours in bed already, and suddenly out of nowhere it felt as if someone placed their hand on my leg, as a comforting gesture, you know?'

'Gods,' Sihtric whispered, with compassionate eyes, 'I'm sorry, my love.'

'It's okay. It's been many years. I'm at peace with it too, like you are with your friend, but, yeah, that's what started to pull me into this world. That and the fact I suppose I was always a little different than most people.'

'Yeah, can relate,' Sihtric chuckled.

You smiled at each other and embraced, and you buried your face in his neck.

'Anyway,' Sihtric said, 'now let's talk about more fun things.'

'Right,' you chuckled, 'so, hey, you want to watch a movie tonight?'

'Tonight? Ah, fuck,' Sihtric said, 'I completely forgot. An old friend of mine, Rypere, throws an after-Halloween party tonight. I'm not a big fan of his parties, but being a friend, I kinda gotta stop by.'

'Oh,' you said, 'yeah, sure. Of course, I understand. I'll watch a movie on my own.' You smiled and shrugged.

'No, why don't you come with me? Be my date and all that.'

'You want that?'

'Of course,' he pulled you close and flicked his tongue against your lips.

'But, wait,' you giggled, 'you said you weren't a big fan of his parties. Why?'

'Eh,' Sihtric grimaced, 'yeah, maybe you shouldn't join me after all. He's a great guy, but his circle of friends, they're not my people and… well, let's just say an orgy is bound to happen at that party.'

'What?' you snorted.

'I'm not into that, I swear,' Sihtric laughed, 'I give myself to only one person. But, yeah, his parties are a little extreme. So I usually stop by, have a drink, and leave before things get out of control eventually.'

'Oh my god,' you chuckled, 'well, now I am kind of curious anyway.'

Sihtric went over his thoughts for a moment. 'Fine, we can go, but only for like an hour or so. After that I'll bring you home, and we can watch a movie.'

'Not at your house?' you grinned.

'Princess, you are a menace,' Sihtric chuckled, 'we'll see how we feel when we leave the party. But, you'll see my house anyway because I gotta stop by first. I need clean clothes and we gotta dress up for that party.'

'Fair,' you said, 'how are you dressing up?'

'Not sure yet, but we gotta do something matching now, right?' he smiled.

********************

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

#modern!sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic

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contentloadingandstuff · 10 months

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🎉Celebrating Hu Tao's birthday!

No fifteenth of July can go without a party with Director Hu. Be it a small one with just you and her closest friends, or a larger event for everyone to enjoy, there’s always something planned.

When it comes to the guests, Hu Tao isn’t very restrictive - the more the merrier! Not only does the fun increase with each person, but so does the gift pile…

Since Wangsheng is the main provider of funerary services in Liyue, Hu Tao can’t complain when it comes to the budget. She doesn’t have a lot of personal expenses, so she will have plenty saved up.

Organizing a party using money earned on death? It’s quite dark indeed, but Hu Tao would just shrug if you’d mention this. That’s life, she’d reply.

When it comes to the place… If you weren’t there for a second opinion, Hu Tao would see nothing wrong with throwing the celebration inside the funeral parlor. Considering that such a place would likely kill the mood (and be horrible for her business' reputation), Hu Tao would choose to go for a big campfire in the great outdoors. That removes the locale’s expenditure, and lets her invite more people to the event. Fresh air is also a plus.

A compulsory guest would be Xiangling, not only because she’s a great friend of Director Hu, but also because she will gladly be the chef for the event (as long as she gets to experiment with the dishes a little).

Hu Tao’s mind is just bursting with ideas. How about a rap or a poetry battle? The winner gets ice cream, and the loser has to eat Jeyun Chillies raw - the higher their spot on the leaderboard, the more of them they have to endure. Poor Chongyun…

Twister! Whipping up a playing field consisting of a bamboo mat with a colored cloth on top is no biggie for her. Hu Tao will gladly find out - who is the most flexible of her friends? Maybe she’ll get to learn something about your capabilities even, hehe.

She always liked a good archery competition. And maybe some javelin throwing as well? Javelins… That gives her an idea - spear fishing! Or just fishing in general if that turns out too challenging, boring or direct for the guests.

And when the night falls, ghost stories! Throughout the year she had come up with plenty of new and thrilling tales, and she just can’t wait to share them. It has been a long time since she saw Xiangling squeal in fright after all.

If those prove to be not exciting enough, Hu Tao will take it to the next step - a ghost hunt. She’ll set things up with her befriended, playful, ethereal pals, of course. She wouldn’t want to get anybody hurt - wild spirits tend to be unpredictable, and, although rarely, very violent.

When Hu Tao, the notorious thrill seeker, finds herself with people who want to go “off-road” with the paranormal, she will not find the strength to refuse. With her spear firmly in hand, she will lead her team into the darkest of corners, looking for a good scare. Maybe that will finally make you jump - it’s hard to scare you. No fun.

Whatever the attractions may be, they for sure won’t be boring. Not when it’s Director Hu’s birthday!

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact hu tao #hu tao #hu tao x reader #hu tao x male reader #hu tao x you #hu tao x y/n #hu tao fluff

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katsukikitten · 2 years

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The quick glimpse of something moving in the corner of your eye, the long shadow looming at the foot of your bed in your dark bedroom late at night, eerily shaped like that of a man. Only for you to flip on the lights to see nothing. Everyone knows that feeling and everyone knows it's just a trick of the mind.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was real?

What if the monsters weren’t contained to just scary daydreams and nightmares? What if the real monsters are the ones you see when your eyes are open? Passing the stranger on the street? Your neighbor with the charming smile or even the one you haven't noticed yet. They've noticed you.

Are you brave enough to look deeper, closer at the thing that goes bump in the night without seeking the haven of light?

Or will you do as you've always done and passively turn the other cheek?

Come closer and discover the things that go bump in the night are the least of your worries, when the real terror is right in front of you.

Are you brave enough to shed light on the darkest of things under the Halloween moon?

👻 Living each day like you're already dead bakugou x reader @kingkatsuki

🦇 Drop Dead. Sero x reader @saturnsorbits

😈 Scarcity Sukuna x reader @kweenkatsuki

🕸️ @strafepanzer

🐈‍⬛ @katsukikitten

Troupes and Characters pending, even so the story will be so frightful you won't be able to stomach it. Live Halloween Noon to Night

Please read the warnings of each post thoroughly as you enjoy the haunts and humps. These works are for adults only, 18+! Minors, blank, and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT! Or be cursed ever more!

#bump in the night collab 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🔪#bakugou x reader #Kirishima x reader #kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛🖋️#kitten recs 🖤🐈‍⬛ 📖

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iamthemess · 2 months

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More fic stuff! Halloween skk

Soukoku

one shot, witch Chuuya, cat Dazai

somehow completely free of any profanity or mature themes which an accomplishment for these two.

3365 word count

Black cats are bad luck.

There’s a well known fact about Port town, Everyone who’s ever lived there knows that it used to be a town of witches, now days it’s filled with ordinary people but if you believe so called tall tales of the children playing in the square and the rambling of elders in the pub you’d know that the quaint little town is still home to one witch.

He comes into town two or three times a week to buy the strangest of herbs and ingredients and if you play in the woods you might find him collecting the wild plants and the bones of small creatures. The townspeople don’t believe that he’s a witch but that doesn’t stop them from keeping their distance from his cabin in the woods.

Children do not heed the warnings of parents and teenagers in particular are famous for breaking such rules and sneaking out into the woods to spy on the alleged witch.

“Your footsteps are so loud you’ll get us caught!” Gin whispered as the group of three snuck through the forest at dark

“What? Are you scared the witch will curse us?” Tachihara teased and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t much of a believer in the supernatural.

Higuchi on the other hand was shaking like a leaf beside him which was appropriate for the bush they were hiding in. “Why did we have to come out at midnight again?”

“Witches come out at night.” Tachihara replied but Higuchi didn’t believe that. “Isn’t that vampires and werewolves?”

“Shut up and look.” Gin whispered to the other two as she turned their attention to the open window of the cottage.

The house wasn’t as hard to find as the older townspeople had them believe, it was actually very easy as it emitted a bright glow in the dark being the only place lit up with candles at the darkest hour of the night.

In the light they could see everything around the cottage, pots and jars filled with water, left outside and the hanging herbs covering the inside and the drawings in ash on the window of weird symbols and a large triangle with a cross through it. The witch was inside mixing ingredients into a bowl in what must have been an evil way like how witches stand over boiling cauldrons as they conjure curses.

“We’re totally going to get cursed.”

Gin smacked the back of Tachihara’s head as the witch's attention turned to the bush outside his window. It continued to rattle and shake, the three all looked at each other to stop moving around but they were completely still. A shadowy figure jumped from the bush and a crow flew from within the bush into the sky.

The fright had them dashing back home in the dark of the woods. The witch, Chuuya, opened his door and watched the backs of those three fade out into the forest back toward the town. He looked down at his feet to see a thin cat with short black hair standing proudly at his door. The little thing must have been what scared them off, Chuuya smiled at the small creature “Good job.” He whispered.

The cat ran between his legs into the cottage as if it had been invited inside. Chuuya closed the door behind him.

He watched the cat wander around the room, looking at all his things.

“Look only, don’t touch.” Chuuya said as the cat jumped onto one of shelves, a glass bottle shook in fear as the small animal sauntered by without a care whether it would fall or not.”I said be careful!”

Chuuya wished cats were more like crows, they always listened to him unlike this curious feline who was tapping at his baskets and pots. Chuuya desperately dived to catch a fallen jar, falling into the table where the cat sat in his foraging basket. “Not for cats.”

He picked the cat up only to find mushrooms growing in the bottom of the basket so he picked that up too but they were infesting his walls. The wild mushrooms had climbed onto the ceiling without him noticing. He really should’ve given more attention to the messy state of his house. The cat slipped out of his grasp as if it was made of jello and continued the it’s rampage through the cottage.

It jumped up onto furniture and knocked over containers of old water that had started to grow algae and the flower petals that had wilted and started to mould. Chuuya should’ve been mad but it was more of a wake up call about checking his ingredients rather than the nuisance cat who was wrecking his house.

It managed to shove a few more things to the ground before Chuuya got a proper hold on it again. This time he had the cat trapped under a blanket that he shook out the window, getting rid of the dust and old leaves sticking to it along with the cat. After that he made sure to close the window so it couldn’t get back in.

He gazed out at the moon feeling a vibrant connection, or the realisation that it was very late and he shouldn’t keep staying up so late trying to make his spells work.

When the sun rose Chuuya got up from his bed as he did every morning and opened the window. A crow cawed, perched on the sill of the window, Chuuya greeted it pleasantly and it dropped a pretty rock into his hand as it had been doing for sometime now. There used to be two crows that would bring gifts but lately they would only come one at a time in turns.

He decided not to speculate too much and got on with his day. He ate his breakfast, put on his cloak and took up his mushroom covered basket, leaving his cosy home behind for the deeper woods that morning.

The ruckus from that night made him realise he hadn’t forraged in some time and found himself drawn to the idea of wandering out into the woods to find new plants and fungi.

His boots left tracks in the grass, one foot in front of the other leaving behind footprints, one, two, three?, four?, five?, six? Four extra small tracks were left beside his own.

That damn cat was following him. A small meow came from his side where the cat happily sat in his basket. He tipped it to the side, forcing the feline to jump out, even so it kept following him, it even swam across the river to meet him on the other side after he had jumped on a moving log to cross the water. There was a bridge not far down but he preferred the adventure.

For a brief moment he watched the cat walk with him, only now noticing something like a collar or more of a strong with a gem tied to it around his neck. Maybe it belonged to someone. Chuuya shook the idea out of his head, he didn’t care much for that cat so he wouldn’t let it worry him.

Chuuya tried to ignore the cat, opting to look up at the trees instead of on the ground at the cat. There were more crows than usual today, he counted them, eight crows. Unfortunately he was too focused on the trees to see where he was stepping as he walked over a fallen tree trunk and slipped on some moss. He landed in the dirt, at least the cloak protected his clothes from getting dirty, that was the reason he bought it after an unfortunate incident with a mud puddle.

While his clothes were fine he couldn’t say the same for his face, he landed face down in the dirt, leaving little scrapes on his nose and cheeks as well as smeared dirt everywhere. He cursed the little bits that fell into his eyes and the ones that covered the scratches that made them sting.

That mangy cat only looked at him with what he assumed was a pleased expression. “Damn cat.” He scowled.

His anger was only interrupted by a loud gasp. He looked over to see a kid, one of the ones from that night staring at him wide eyed.

"Witch." She said allowed as she stared

"So what?" Chuuya stared back at her. She looked like she would faint at any moment under his gaze.

She heard his voice for the first time in a menacing tone. "Oh warlock?"

"Don't lump me in with those bastards! I'm a witch!" He yelled in a menacing tone. The kid was frightened and ran off.

Chuuya returned home with no new ingredients and a bruised ego.

The next morning was the same as always, only this time that stupid cat had taken up residence on the other side of his bed. He was too tired to complain and kept on as usual. Today there was a large number of crows watching from outside.

At first he thought there were only six but their numbers grew to nine or even eleven but only one brought him a gift, today a silver coin.

He readied himself for the day, this time he dressed to go into town. He picked up one of his baskets as he left and called out into the air of his house "I'm going out now."

Satisfied with himself he left for the town. Just as the day before the cat followed along, this time with more difficulty. The cat was only a small creature after all and was easily swept away among the crowds of people at the market.

Chuuya didn't pay any mind, his only goal was to stock up on the herbs for his new spell and replace anything the cat had broken.

His eye was caught by a stand selling dried rosemary and lavender as well as other scented plants, the lady behind the stall encouraged him to try putting them in some water for a nice bath. He inspected a stalk of rosemary as he gave it some thought.

His eyes wandered around meeting familiar brown eyes. The girl stared back shocked. Under her breath she whispered "witch." And quickly shuffled away into the crowd.

With his attention averted he missed the sneaky antics of the cat as it snatched the rosemary right out of his hand.

"You jerk! Stop causing trouble."

The cat looked back at him and started running away, Chuuya gave chase after it as it bounded under another stall. Chuuya stopped not wanting to disturb the stall owner, the cat had disappeared but Chuuya was now greeted with spices.

Salt and pepper, cinnamon, bay leaves and other useful tools. The stall also had a small selection of dried flowers hanging from the frame of the shop.

He needed more salt and having bay leaves was always useful. Despite having some, Chuuya didn't use many flowers in his practice but he found himself drawn to them.

He reached out to touch the petal of a rose and the wood of the stall squeaked. In a second the top of the frame fell down over him while the legs of the stand gave out causing the poor seller's products to fall out onto the path in a mess.

He pushed himself out from under the wooden frame and apologised profusely to the store owner and offered to help clean up, meanwhile the cat was snooping around at the goods fallen on the floor.

As he helped pick up the flowers he noticed the little thief pawing at the gold coins, the shop owner's earnings. The little jerk picked up a coin and scampered off. Of course Chuuya couldn't let such injustice slide and gave it a chance again, demanding the cat stop running at once.

Sadly the chase ended much like the day before with Chuuya tripped and fallen onto the ground. This time into the water of the fountain in the middle of the square where the cat proudly sat on the centre piece and dropped the coin, hitting Chuuya on the head before falling into the fountain.

"I wish you were dead, you little trouble maker."

Chuuya went home in defeat.

While his shopping trip didn’t go as planned he wasn’t going to let that stop him from finally completing his spell without failure. He had his candles lit, his space cleansed and all of his ingredients on the table with the jar he would be using for the spell. This time he picked out a new jar from the last one that had been through dozens of failed attempts. Hopefully this one will change things.

He wanted to start with sun water but as he reached for the bottle he saw the water dripping down onto the floor and a calm cat sitting on his work space. “Get down from there!”

He yelled at the cat which it did but not without grabbing one of the candles and running off with it, luckily the flame blew out but that just left a trail of smoke around his house as the cat ran off with it.

“You little-!” Chuuya picked up his broom, chasing the cat as it jumped around on his furniture “You! Since you’ve been here I've had nothing but bad luck! I want you out of my house right now!”

He chased the cat around with his broom, swiping at it as it frantically ran around, knocking down baskets, bottles and books off of shelves and tables. Chuuya got one good swing at the cat which sent it flying in a puff of smoke, barrelling towards his work. The sound of the cat hitting the table was much larger than it should’ve been for a small creature.

Chuuya watched the smoke clear to find that there was no longer a cat but a person laying over the top of his table, dazed and dizzy.

“What! You’re- You’re!” Chuuya stumbled over his words as he gawked at the sight.

The man looked up at him with the same smug grin as that cat “Cat got your tongue?”

“A man! What are you doing?” Chuuya yelled out, pointing his broom in the man's direction like it was a weapon.

“My name is Dazai and I was hoping you would take me on as your familiar, and give me the pampered life I deserve but you're really rude you know!” He looked offended as he got up from the table, dusting himself off.

Chuuya looked livid as he shouted back “Me! Rude?! You’re the one who came in here looking to leech off of me and bringing your bad luck with you!”

“How rude! Bad luck, I have no such thing! And to think I wanted to help you.” Dazai Huffed, turning his nose up at the shorter witch.

“I’m going to curse you!”

Dazai didn’t contain his offensive laugh. “You can try but without a familiar you won’t have much luck. You can’t even make wishes come true, little witch.”

“Get out.” Chuuya pointed to the door and started sweeping him out.

“Fine but when you regret it I might not be so easy to find.” Dazai willingly walked out of the house, poofing back into a cat and scampering out into the woods.

Chuuya closed the door with a sigh, happy to finally be rid of his bad luck. He picked everything up off the floor and started the spell again, calming his mind. He reached for his other bottle of sun water, perfectly stored in a glass bottle with a handle which promptly broke off as he picked it up, sending shards of glass all over the floor.

A minor setback, he swept up the glass and returned to the spell one more time. By now he’d run out of his sun water but substituting for moon water wouldn’t cause any problem. He had his list of ingredients written down but the list had disappeared somewhere amongst all the chaos.

Chuuya tried to list the ingredients off in his head, quartz and maybe rosemary or thyme? He looked around at his ingredients not being able to find any of what he prepared earlier. Somehow his luck seemed to get worse and that stupid cat's words lingered in his head. He was regretting getting rid of that cat, he probably had the answers to his horrid luck.

He grabbed his broom and stomped outside to the bush by the window.

“What way did the cat go?” Chuuya demanded the three hiding in the bushes answer, they looked up in horror, pointing to the town with some shaky hands.

Chuuya got on his broom and flew away. Yes, like all those fairytales and speculations about witches riding brooms, Chuuya could fly on a broomstick, something he didn’t do very often on account of his terrible landing skills which were demonstrated when the front of his broom collided with the walkway.

Luckily no one was around to see it but it was still embarrassing at best. He dusted the dirt off of his shirt and looked around for any suspicious looking black cats. He did find a few but they all ran off like ordinary cats and they hissed and scratched at him if he got too close.

It was safe to say Chuuya became a menace to the town's cat population as he ran around angrily screaming at felines.

“Where is that stupid cat! Dazai I swear I will curse you!”

“You couldn’t even if you really did want to.” Dazai’s mocking voice rang out behind him.

Chuuya turned around to find Dazai practically standing on him but this time in his human form, which was stupidly tall for such a small cat.

“Help me finish my spell.” Chuuya demanded, refusing to hear no as an answer.

“You’re so rude. But I suppose I could-” Dazai couldn’t even finish his sentence as Chuuya started to drag him by his tie into the square where Chuuya threw down his broom.

“I can’t carry you like that so transform.” Chuuya made more demands much to Dazai’s unenthusiasm about being thrown around.

“The least you could do is say please.” Dazai argued back but only got a stern glare from the witch. He rolled his eyes and complied, turning into a cat and hopping up onto the stick of the broom with great balance.

Chuuya followed after, scooping Dazai into his lap and holding onto him with one hand while the other stayed on the handle of the broom. As if they were feathers they were hoisted up into the sky and flying over the forest.

Cats weren’t ones to be afraid of heights but Dazai had never flown before so he made sure to stick tightly to Chuuya. Unfortunately it didn’t matter how hard he held on, even with his claws hooked in Chuuya’s shirt it didn’t stop him from flying off as they crashed through the window of the cottage.

Chuuya brushed it off like it was nothing but Dazai on the other hand was stiff with fear as he stood in the middle of the room with his hair standing on end. “What kind of maniac witch are you!”

“I’m still in training you ass!!” Chuuya yelled back as Dazai once again took his human form, straightening out his clothes and tidying his hair.

“Come over here and make yourself useful.” Chuuya patted the side of the bench for Dazai to come stand at.

Dazai stood in place, trying to look offended. “I am not a dog nor did I agree to be your familiar so stop trying to boss me around.”

“What? You don’t want to anymore, I thought you wanted a cosy life but if you want I can dump you back on the street.”

“I might prefer that over a rude little witch like you!” Dazai argued

“My door is right there.” Chuuya said as he gestured to the still open door.

“... I’ll help you. With one spell but if you feed me I just might have to change my mind.”

“Good kitty, now come show me what to do.”

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