#katwriting
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Fic: Man's Best Friend
Red, White & Royal Blue // One Shot
5+1 moments of Henry and David through the years. Featuring Arthur, Bea and possibly some Alex.
Word Count: 8.4k // Read on AO3 or continue reading below
One
Norfolk, December 2014
Sandringham is as gray and dull as ever. It's raining and there is barely any light coming through, which makes the ancient walls appear even more daunting than usual.
When Henry gets out of the car, he feels like the walls are staring back at him, the high windows a glassy copy of his grandmother's most judgmental stare. She's waiting there, behind one of those windows, expecting them all for the annual Christmas celebrations. Henry would much rather be anywhere else, literally. With Pez in the Maldives maybe. Or just back at the country house in Wales with his family.
Behind him, the car trunk slams shut and slow steps walk up behind him. His father comes to a stop next to Henry, pulling Henry's suitcase behind him over the gravel.
They look at the ancient brick in front of them for a moment until Arthur lets out a sigh. "You know," he says, "if it were up to me, we would be in Wales right now. Just the five of us. Let you all have a proper family Christmas for once."
Henry laughs at the thought. "I bet Gran would be thrilled about that."
Arthur pats his shoulder. "Don't worry. I have annoyed your grandmother so many times over the last twenty years. One more time really isn't going to matter."
He winks at Henry, then starts walking towards the main house. "Come on, son. Let's get this over with."
They don't get a moment to themselves for the next approximately 48 hours. Between the official family reunion, the photo session, the stiff, black-tie event that is Christmas Eve, and the photographed walk to the church service on Christmas morning, Henry feels like he doesn't get a moment to breathe either.
So when Arthur suggests going for a walk on the early afternoon of the 26th, Henry doesn't have to think twice. He makes sure to drive Philip off Rainbow Road one last time for good measure, then hands the controller to Bea and abandons their heated game of Mario Kart.
"Make sure to bring a scarf, you two. I don't need either of you to get sick," Catherine calls after them from where she's snuggled up in the window seat with a book and a fluffy blanket. Arthur makes a show of rolling his eyes, but begrudgingly grabs thick scarves for the both of them from the wardrobe by the door.
When they step out of the castle and the crisp December air hits them, Henry feels like he is taking his first proper breath in days. He lets out a sigh, his breath forming a little cloud in the cold air in front of his face.
Arthur looks over at him and smirks. "I suppose you are about as tired of all of this as I am?"
"You have no idea," Henry says, his shoes scuffling over the pebbles. "Sometimes I wish I'd stayed at Eton for the holidays. But then again, Pez is not coming back until the new year, so."
Arthur makes an offended noise. "You wound me, son. First you stay away from us all year, and then you can't bring yourself to show some excitement about seeing your old man. I can't believe I raised such an ungrateful traitor. I must speak to your mother about this, maybe there's still a chance we can return you."
Henry laughs and bumps his shoulder into Arthur's as they continue walking down the misty trail.
They walk for about an hour and venture into the public area of the Sandringham Estate, their PPOs walking discreetly behind them. Arthur has been working with the same ones for years. He trusts them, so Henry trusts them too.
(He might also trust them because they discreetly got him out of a number of potentially very embarrassing situations over the past year or two. Anyway. Details.)
They are about halfway on their way back to the castle, when an elderly man with a dog walks by. A beagle, fur already slightly gray around the eyes. When they pass, the dog ventures over and barks at them accusingly.
"Dolly, stop it!", its owner says and closes the distance between them. "I'm terribly sorry, she's usually nicer to people. But you know, when they are in one of their moods," he says, completely unaware of who he is talking to.
"Oh, it's quite alright," Arthur says and crouches down to scratch the beagle between its ears. It stops barking immediately. "I used to have one just like that when I was young. Had him for almost fifteen years, he was a good lad."
The man nods. "Oh yes, if you are lucky they get quite old. Dolly here is turning 12 next month, aren't you, girl? I got her as a present for my wife, and after my Nina passed away last year, the old girl has been keeping me company."
Dolly has now moved on from enjoying Arthur's attention to giving Henry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. And despite her obviously old age, she is still quite effective. Henry laughs and crouches down to scratch her between the ears. The dog positively melts at the attention.
Arthur watches him with a fond smile. "They make for great friends, don't they? Especially when you're lonely. I always wanted to get our kids one, but never got around to it."
"You know, it's never too late for a belated Christmas present," Henry jokes from the ground. He gets up and brushes the dust of his pants. "Or you could put it on the list for next year. I'm sure Mum would be thrilled."
When they have walked on and the man and his dog are out of earshot, Henry leans over to his dad. "Also, having a dog running around Sandringham on Christmas Eve would make Gran go so mad. Just imagine that."
Arthur laughs loudly. "It would, wouldn't it? Even more reason to get one. Maybe next year."
+++
Two
Wales, December 2015
They don't go to Sandringham next year.
In fact, they don't really do much for Christmas at all. Neither of them feels like celebrating, given the circumstances. If Bea hadn't called Henry and practically begged him to come home for the holidays, Henry would have stayed at Oxford. Even the Queen, despite her longstanding indifference towards Arthur, respects their choice to stay away from the extended family celebrations without comment.
They go to the country house in Wales instead, just the four of them. But they don't get much into a holiday spirit there, either.
The thing is, while Catherine found some hiding places back in London, the country house was all Arthur. It's not even an official royal residence, just an old house near a small town that Arthur bought some time after his first Bond movie and used as a hideaway whenever the press and the attention in London got too much. Henry has heard many stories about how he and Catherine would camp out here when they were younger, get to know each other without the scrutinizing glances of the public and the even more scrutinizing glares of courtiers and the queen. He found out later that this was also where Arthur proposed to Catherine, way before they had even thought of asking for the queen's official approval. The movie star and the rebel princess at their best.
His presence in the house is everywhere – in the fluffy old rugs that he picked, the old chimney he'd light a fire in whenever they were here in the winter, the family photos on the wall. He is everywhere and nowhere at all, the memories of him light as the wind drafting through the hallway, yet weighing heavier than the old bricks that carry the roof.
Maybe that's an appropriate analogy, Henry thinks – his father was the foundation that kept their family together. Now that he's gone, they stray apart, like a home that's been dismantled by a storm.
And in in the eye of the storm, there is nothing but quiet. Cold, empty, suffocating quiet.
When Henry feels like he can't take it anymore, he grabs Catherine's keys to unlock the backdoor and steps out into the garden. There are a few concrete steps leading down from the patio to the lawn – his siblings and him spent many summers drawing on them with chalk – and Henry almost slips when he walks. He catches himself on the railing – Arthur put it there after he almost broke a leg once slipping just like Henry almost did. The backyard is abandoned, the grass more brown than green. The sky is covered by heavy clouds and there is thick fog clouding Henry's vision.
It almost feels like Wales misses Henry's dad too.
Henry steps over the wet grass towards the old oak tree in the corner of the garden. There is a swing hanging from a strong branch that he remembers building with his father and Philip, back in the day. Before.
Henry's stomach lurches as he realizes that this is what his life is going to feel like from now on – split into a before and an after.
He leans heavily against the tree and squeezes his eyes shut to fight back the tears. It's ironic, really. Considering the amount of crying he has done over the past months, he should be out of tears by now. But apparently life won't even grant him that small favor.
His gaze drifts over to the swing. It's still there, swaying softly in the wind, just like it has for years. For winter holidays, autumn getaways, long weekends in early spring when it was still too cold to stay outside for too long. But it no longer reminds Henry of all those happy memories. Instead, the sight of it just stings.
He remembers building the swing as clearly as though it happened days, not years ago: His dad coming home from an incognito trip to the hardware store, searching in the shed for the right piece of wood. Picking the right tree with his dad and Philipp. His mom's voice calling from the patio, warning them to be careful. Philipp spraining his wrist anyway when an attempted jump from the swing went wrong one day. Himself sitting on the swing, his legs dangling in the air and Arthur next to him on the ground, flipping through an old script. Bea and Philipp playing ball in the grass, Catherine sunbathing nearby.
Just a few short months ago, those moments were memories he looked back on fondly. Now, they feel like relicts from a different time. Henry looks at the old swing, contemplates sitting on it to see if it will make him feel any different, any better, make him hurt any less.
Instead, he sighs because he already knows the answer.
He turns his back on the tree, the swing and the memories, and heads back into the house. His jacket is still on the armrest of the sofa, just where he has carelessly left his stuff for years. His mother would always playfully scold him, tell him to clean up after himself. This year, she doesn’t. Henry's not even sure she realized the jacket was there. Just another one of those things that Arthur's death ripped away from them.
He passes through the hallway and walks out the front door. The PPOs are stationed outside the fence as usual. Henry throws their head of security a hopeful glance. She doesn't acknowledge it, but when her colleagues set off to follow him, she holds them back.
Henry shoots her a little smile. His favorite person on the royal staff might be Shaan, but there is a reason she comes in at a very close second place.
He's made it just a few steps down the road when someone calls his name. When Henry turns around, Bea is following him with quick little steps, bundled up in that ratty trench coat she claims is vintage and a scarf that could better be described as a middle-sized blanket.
"Going somewhere?", she calls after him.
"Can't stay at the house," Henry mutters. His soles drag over the wet pavement. He kicks a rogue pebble out of the way.
Bea catches up to him in a matter of moments. She stops and looks at him for a moment, really looks at him. It's one of those looks she gets when she sees right through him. He hates that look.
"Mind if I join you?"
Henry shrugs and doesn't say anything. But he doesn't send her away either.
They walk in silence for a while, passing by a house or a street sign every now and then, but otherwise not running into a single person. This is what Henry loves about this place. The remoteness of it all, the ability for them to be just them, away from the prying eyes of the public and the even more prying eyes of the people at Gran's court.
They make it to the little town's center and are walking down the main street lined by little shops and a handful of pubs and coffee shops. There are a few more people here, but they don't recognize them. And if they do, they have the decency not to bother them.
"He loved this place so much," Bea says.
Henry sighs. "I know. We came here so often."
He looks around the familiar shop displays decorated with Christmas lights, the coffee shops selling gingerbread flavored everything, the warm light that comes out from the pub windows.
It's almost like nothing changed. Except everything did.
His throat closes up and he takes a deep breath to swallow down the wave of emotion that suddenly hits him.
Grief really is the most unpredictable bastard.
Bea doesn't say anything, but takes his hand and squeezes it gently.
Suddenly, she stops and points at a building that's still brightly lit although it's past 4pm on December 23rd.
Maisie's Pet Shelter, the sign across the door says.
Bea frowns. "Well that one's new for sure."
She nods towards the place. "Wanna head in?"
And Henry would do just about anything to get away from the kind, but still curious eyes from the old ladies having coffee in the little shop across the street. So he nods.
"Sure."
***
There's nobody there when they walk into the shelter – just the front desk, a computer, a bunch of flowers and a few pictures of all kinds of pets on the brightly colored walls. But as soon as they walk in, a bell chimes over their heads and announces their entrance.
"Be right there!", a bright voice calls from behind the doorway that leads out of the reception area and is covered with a colorful curtain. Quick steps approach and a moment later, a young woman walks through, auburn curls bouncing with every step. She smiles at them when she sees them standing in her shop.
"Hello, welcome! I'm Maisie! How can I help you?"
Bea smiles at her. "Oh, we just stopped by to check out your shelter. Are you new here?"
The woman – Maisie – nods. "I am, I just opened it a few months ago. Would you like a tour?"
Henry nods and speaks up for the first time since they entered the shop. "Why not?"
Turns out a tour through a shelter full of adorable pets of all ages is exactly what Henry needed. Maisie happily shows them around the different rooms and introduces them to all kinds of animals – from adorable hamsters and rabbits up to pigs, a pony and even a donkey that's deaf and half-blind, but no less adorable. With each kennel they visit and each animal they get to pet and coo over, the iron grip of sadness around Henry's heart seems to lighten a little more.
That is, until they make it to the part of the shelter that houses the latest arrivals and a kennel with a tiny beagle inside. As they walk up to it, the dog rises up on its chubby little feet and pads over to the kennel door. He yaps excitedly at Henry, even though it doesn't quite carry yet.
Henry laughs and crouches down in front of the kennel. "Hello there," he says and reaches a finger through the bars. The beagle taps his cold little nose against them.
"That's one of our newest arrivals," Maisie says from behind them. "We got him just a few days ago. He was supposed to be a Christmas present, but you know how people are sometimes. A friendly guy, that one. He made friends with all of our other dogs. Even with Mr Wobbles over here. They have been inseparable ever since the little guy arrived here."
Henry looks up and sees her pointing towards – well, the most giant cat he has ever seen. It is sitting in the corner, preening and waving its tail, just a few feet away from the little beagle's bed. Henry can't quite pinpoint what it is, but something in the cat's glare unsettles him.
Bea, not so much.
"Oh my god", she coos as soon as she sees the cat. She walks over and starts petting it. Henry can hear the cat's weird purrs all the way from over where he's still busy petting the dog. "Mr Wobbles, though?," Bea says, "what a funny name for a cat."
Maisie grins. "His previous owners named him. A lovely old couple, but they were moving to a retirement home and couldn't bring him with them. They said their grandkids named him and the name sort of stuck."
She tells Bea more about the cat, but Henry is only half listening. The little beagle has now moved on to sniffing Henry's hand, the one that isn't busy scratching the dog's ears. When Henry stops for a second, the beagle nudges its head against his had – as though it wants to tell him to go on. When he does, the puppy lets out a satisfied little noise and settles down next to Henry, looking up at him his enormous dark brown puppy eyes.
Henry is melting.
Maisie's voice draws him out of puppy heaven and back to the present. "They are both still available for adoption, you know? Just in case that is something you both are interested in," she adds, smirking.
Bea looks at him from where she's still snuggling the gigantic cat, its hair all over her coat and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What do you say, brother? Fancy being reckless?"
Two weeks later, Kensington Palace gets two furry new residents and Maisie's Pet Shelter receives a sizeable donation. Along with it, she's delivered a giant flower bouquet with a card and a photo. It's Bea and Henry in the music room back at Kensington Palace, the young beagle snuggled up in Henry's lap and Mr Wobbles sitting next to Bea, eating what appears to be an entire box of…Jaffa Cakes?
"Merry belated Christmas! Thank you for introducing us to the best Christmas presents we have ever gotten for ourselves. Love – Henry, Bea, Mr Wobbles & David"
Three
London, Summer 2016
Henry never thought of himself as a dog person. Or just a pet person in general.
All of that changed once David came into his life – all soft fur, floppy ears, midnight cuddles and that adorable glance he gets when he wants a treat. Ever since, Henry's world absolutely revolves around his fluffy new roommate. And David quickly turns into much more of a friend than Henry expected.
He is there for everything – the good times and the bad, the happy and sad days, the first anniversary of Arthur's death. Henry's dating disasters and subsequent breakups, Bea's relapse, Philipp's stubbornness. Catherine's empty glance, the Queen's snide comments and Henry's bad moods about her snide comments. He is there when Henry feels like ranting, when he needs someone to listen, when could use a run to clear his head, or when he just needs to curl up in his room and shut the world out for a while.
Most importantly, David is there when Henry comes home from Rio.
His time in Brazil passed by in a whirlwind of heat and handshakes, drinks with important people, polite smiles and meaningless conversations. A toxic mix of smiling for the cameras, discreetly accepting the pills Shaan hands him, just as discreetly taking them and all the while making sure nobody notices how he really feels just about a year after his father's death.
But then, in the middle of it all, shining bright like a lightning rod and just as electric: A head full of dark curls, a yellow flower tucked into the pocket of a loose button-down shirt. A Texan drawl. A smile so bright it stood out even among the most flashing of camera lights around them.
Alex Claremont-Diaz.
The son of the woman who might be America's next president. Radiant, confident, unapologetic, and without a single ounce of doubt the most gorgeous human beings Henry has ever seen. And thus, completely off limits.
At least that's what he has been telling himself to at least somehow justify the fact that he behaved like an absolute idiot when Alex simply wanted to introduce himself.
He's back in his room at Kensington, sitting on the sofa by the window, wrapped up in his oldest cardigan and stress-eating a truly embarrassing amount Jaffa cakes. David is curled up by the fire place, and has been listening to him ranting about his fabulous first encounter with Alex Claremont-Diaz for the better part of an hour now.
Every now and then, he gives Henry a sympathetic wince or barks a little. Henry tells himself that's David's way of trying to cheer him up. Maybe he also just wants to go for a walk. Unfortunately, neither scenario is in the cards until Henry has found a way out of his predicament.
"Can you believe it?", he goes on. "For once in my life, I meet this absolutely gorgeous, charming person and all I can do is make him believe I'm too arrogant to talk to him?"
David gives him another little sympathetic wince. He pads over from his spot near the fireplace, eyes the distance between the floor and where Henry is sitting, then hops up and into Henry's lap. David has gotten much better at that, Henry realizes – when he was a puppy, he could barely climb over the edge of his dog bed. Now, he jumps onto the couch or Henry's bed like it's nothing.
Henry scratches him behind his floppy little ears. David stretches out his paws and yawns in satisfaction.
"And you know what's the worst bit?", Henry goes on. "I had a plan, David. I was going to get the Olympics over with, preferably without completely embarrassing myself and then go on a nice holiday or something. Just…get away from everything for a while. Think about what I'm going to do next. No drama allowed. And yet, here I am."
David looks at him from his big brown dog eyes. Henry thinks there's something understanding in them.
He looks at his dog, who from the looks of it, couldn't be more comfortable if he tried. "You're such a good boy, aren't you? I wish I could switch places with you sometimes. You don't have to worry about gorgeous Americans who will probably never talk to you again."
"Well that sounds depressing," a voice chirps from his door.
Henry jumps and turns around to see his sister standing in the doorway. She's got a smug smile on her face and that awful cat of hers on her arm. Henry swears Mr Wobbles gained at least another five pounds since he last saw him before Rio.
"You know, you need to stop feeding Mr Wobbles so many treats."
"Nonsense. He's a little small for his weight, is all."
Scoffing, Henry looks at the frankly gigantic cat who, even though he is a goddamn cat, manages to somehow stare right back at him. Smugly.
"Anyway, stop trying to distract me from the giant rainbow-colored elephant in the room. Why don't you just apologize to Alex?"
"How would you know I was even talking about Alex?"
Bea shoots him a look.
Henry sighs. "Fine. But seriously, how would I do that? It's not like we exchanged contact details before I behaved like an absolute arse to him."
"You know, there's this thing called the internet," Bea deadpans, "and another one called Instagram DMs. Welcome to the 21st century, brother. I'm starting to think all these books about regency England are starting to rub off on you."
Henry grabs the nearest pillow and throws it at her. "Stop Austen-shaming me in my moment of crisis. Her books are still better than whatever you're reading. What was that again? People and the latest trending threads on Twitter?"
Moments later, the pillow comes right back at him. "Stop trying to change the subject, then!"
Bea walks over to the couch and sits down next to him, reaches for his Jaffa cakes and feeds one to Mr Wobbles. "So. What happened with the American?"
Henry sighs. "Where do I start? We were at the diving finals, and I ran into him backstage and he introduced himself and wanted to shake my hand and I…well, I wasn't really in a mood to talk to anyone because that day was absolute hell and packed with boring people, and then there was Alex and I sort of panicked and I sort of…asked Shaan to get rid of him?
Bea gives him one of those looks she always gives him when she knows he fucked up, but doesn't want to tell him so. "You did not."
If the floor was so kind as to open a hole for Henry to jump into, he would do so without a second thought. Right about now. "I did. And I could punch myself in the face for it. But I still did and now the possible future First Sone of the United States it going to hate me for the rest of his life."
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"Also you are gone on him."
"I know. A terrible decision, really."
Bea chuckles and feeds Mr Wobbles another one of Henry's Jaffa cakes. Henry is so distraught he doesn't even bother telling her off.
She looks at her obese cat for a moment, then back at him. "I mean, now that I heard the story I have to admit you're right. You did behave like an arse. And Alex might hate you now, sure. But who knows – you might get lucky within all of this."
Henry frowns. "What do you mean?"
"His mum is just a presidential candidate for now, isn't she? Maybe she ends up losing and you'll never have to see him again. Presto, problem solved."
"Maybe", Henry concedes, picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion. "I'll just hope for the best."
He doesn't tell her that never seeing Alex again is the absolute last thing he wants. But then again, it would make things a lot easier for him, wouldn't it? So maybe it would not be such a bad thing. Maybe Bea is right after all.
Six months later, Henry wakes up to the news that the next president of the United States is going to be Ellen Claremont.
Upon reading the news, he drops his phone on the mattress next to him and yells into his pillow. Apparently, easy isn't in the cards for him for another while.
Certainly not for the next four years.
Four
London, Summer 2018
It is, indeed, everything but easy. But thankfully, David is there to listen to Henry as always.
Even when he's acting like a hopelessly lovesick fool.
Especially then.
Five
London, December 2020
It's another one of those early, gloomy winter mornings and Henry is out at the park with David. David is antsy today, tugging at his leash, wagging his tail, and barking at every other tree they pass. His excitement proves to be contagious – even Henry finds himself in quite a good mood today. Ever since the disaster at Philip's wedding (Martha has been dragging his ass for weeks about it), him and Alex have been talking more or less every day. Alex's texts come in at all hours of the day and night, sometimes at such an ungodly hour that Henry gets slightly worried about Alex's sleep schedule. Or just…his general ability to sleep. But nevertheless, they are a beacon of light in otherwise dull days and Henry would not miss them for the world. Even if his own sleep schedule has to suffer for a bit.
As they're walking, Henry's phone chimes with a new message. Given that it is just past 6 am on a Sunday and there is no humanly possible way Pez has risen from the dead yet, there is only one person the message could be from.
ACD 🦃
I have a situation. Some help please?
Upon reading the message, Henry lets out an exasperated sigh and tries to ignore the treacherous warmth bubbling up in his chest. He sits down at a park bench and clicks the extend button on David's leash. On second thought, he lets out a sharp whistle and waits until David abandons the puddle he'd been inspecting and trots over to him.
"Sit, David", Henry says and scratches David behind the ears. He unclicks David's leash altogether and takes David's favorite toy out of his messenger bag. He tosses it out into the meadow. "Go on, mate. This might take a while."
As David trots away, tail wagging happily, Henry hits the video call button on his phone and waits for it to connect. Ever since The Great Turkey Calamity, they found that video calls were a lot more convenient for them. Alex says it's because he needs Henry to "see my goddamn face and gestures" for him to really get his point across. Henry just happily obliges him.
When Alex picks up, Henry spots familiar glass paneling and a stack of comic books in the corner.
"The solarium this time?"
Alex sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired. "Yeah. I needed somewhere quiet. Leo's on some engagement with mom tonight and June rarely comes up here. So."
"Hm."
A beat. Alex twists one of his curls around his fingers. It's only then that Henry realizes that he is once again perched upside down on one of the chairs up there. It makes Henry smile a little.
"Where are you? That doesn't look like Kensington Palace to me."
"Just out for a walk."
"Before 7 am on a Sunday." Alex doesn't even try to make it sound like a question.
Henry raises an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. What time is it now for you, 2 am?"
"Point."
Henry shrugs. "So what was that situation you talked about?"
Alex runs a hand over his face. "The fucking color scheme for New Year's."
Henry raises an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"The color scheme for, you know, the New Year's Young America Gala? The party we use as a ruse each year in order to get absolutely fucking wasted with half of the hottest young people of the country? The one we throw literally every year and that's like…the hottest New Year's Party in the country? Come on, Henry, pay attention. I can't do all the work here."
Henry rolls his eyes fondly. "Alright then. So what's going on about the color scheme?"
"It's more like what isn't going on about the color scheme at this point, man. Nora wants rainbow colors, June wants pastel, the PR department wants red, white and royal blue…and for some reason, everyone keeps annoying me about it. Do I look like a goddamn expert on fuckin' party confetti colors to you?"
"Well you are one of the hosts, so…"
"Ha ha. Very funny. You know, if I wanted someone to be all smart about it, I could have just talked to June."
Henry smirks. "Where is she, anyway?"
"Fuck if I know. She's been obsessing over the guest list all day and now her and Nora have gone MIA, but left me pretty clear instructions that I am to take care of the confetti thing."
"So I am your lone help in solving this color-coded matter?"
"Sort of."
Letting his gaze wander over the meadow, Henry smirks. David is apparently done inspecting a pile of leaves and is now coming back towards the bench.
"Well, lucky for you I shall not be the only one you have to rely on in this very delicate matter. We got some help." He whistles sharply and David's little feet speed up as they close the last few steps up to the bench. He hops up and nudges Henry's elbow, making the hand holding his phone wobble a bit.
Alex's tinny voice perks up as he puts two and two together. "Oh wait, is David here too? Let me say hi! Hi David!"
Henry sighs fondly. "Alright. Say hi, mate." He lowers the phone so Alex gets a screenful of adorable, slightly muddy Beagle. "Alex has an issue that he would like to discuss with us. And we need your help since you're the best with just about everything."
"Hey little buddy," Alex coos through the phone, "God, you're so adorable. Okay listen, I gotta pick colors for this party thing and your dad is no help, so you have to help me out here, alright?"
David tilts his little head to the side a little bit, just like when he's listening to Henry. If Henry weren't so absolutely gone on Alex, he would find it a little disquieting how easily David opened up to him. But then again, he's one to talk.
Luckily, Alex doesn't notice any of Henry's internal turmoil. Instead, he is busy explaining the New Year's Party to David, in all detail.
"…So, we got option A, rainbows. You know, the colorful things on the sky when it's just rained and the sun comes out and it looks all pretty and colorful and –"
"Dogs don't see all colors, Alex", Henry chimes in.
"-don't listen to your dad, I think that you could do anything you want to do. Anyway, so we got the rainbow option…"
David stays silent.
On the screen, Alex grins. "Hm, no? Okay, then the other option would be pastel colors, you know like flowers in the spring when they're just coming out and-"
A bug flies by. David tries to eat it.
"I see how it is then. Okay, David, so last option – we got this dark blue theme going on with like –"
At that, David barks and tries to lick the screen. Henry pulls his phone away at the very last second, but there's still a bit of dog slobber all over the screen.
Alex laughs.
David blinks.
Henry melts.
He clears his throat to cover it up. Luckily, it's Alex who keeps talking and Henry doesn't risk embarrassing himself any further.
"Well, looks like we got a decision. Thanks David, I appreciate it," Alex says, smirking. "You've been a great help. Much better than your dad."
"Hey! I brought the two of you together, it's not like I didn't do anything at all", Henry says to cover up the fact that he didn't do anything at all.
On screen, Alex is now telling David how good of a dog he is and absently running his hand through his hair, making it just the tiniest bit messier than usual. A stray curl falls into his face.
Henry is officially going to die.
Mercifully, Alex decides that he has tortured Henry enough for one day.
"Alright y'all, thanks for helping me. I'm gonna let you all go continue your walk and pester June some more about the guest list. Talk to you soon."
When he hangs up, Henry lets out a sigh. He looks over at David, who is still sitting on the bench next to him and is looking at him quite quizzically.
Henry sighs. "Stop looking at me like that. I already know I am in so much trouble."
***
The next day, Henry receives an email from Shaan.
June Claremont-Diaz has invited you to the Young America Gala on New Year's Eve. Would you like to attend? The invitation includes a plus one. Maybe Mr Okonjo would be interested in joining you?
Attached, as always, is a calendar invite. Shaan likes to have these things in order.
Henry has never clicked "Attend" to one of Shaan's calendar invites faster.
When he looks up, David is back by side, looking up at him with that slightly judging look he sometimes gets. Mostly when he knows Henry has done something stupid. Henry is sure he got that look from Mr. Wobbles.
He lets out a sigh and pets David's head. "Stop it. I'm only human."
And instead of pondering on it for much longer, he opens his chat thread with Pez and starts typing a new message.
What are you doing for New Year's?
Five
London, January 2020
He should have known.
Nothing good ever came from him actually being excited about something. About someone.
Henry really needs to stop putting himself into miserable situations like that. Well, actually, he just needs to stop kissing gorgeous Americans at New Year's and then running away.
He's back at Kensington, has been for a few days, but his mind is still under that Linden tree at the White House. Never actually left. At this point, Henry has some serious doubts that it ever will.
He gets up. Paces through the room. Sits back down. Yells into one of the ugly pillows on the even uglier couch. Makes a note in his mind that he needs to get a new one. If he doesn't die of embarrassment first, that is. Starts pacing again.
However, none of it will make what happened on New Year's go away. It's all like a slow, torturing movie playing in the back of Henry's head – with the sole purpose of tormenting him and making him feel even more miserable about the whole thing. And if that doesn't suffice, there's always Alex's texts and phone calls.
He has been ignoring him for days now. Which would be fine if there weren't the state dinner later that month. Which Henry needs to attend. In person. And can't back out of because of their stupid best-friends-rouse agreement that's got him into this fucked up situation in the first place.
It's not that Henry didn't try to get out of the state dinner. He actually talked to Shaan about it. Or at least, tried to. Until Shaan raised one unimpressed eyebrow and reminded him that unfortunately, Henry was bound to the agreement and there was nothing he could do "unless you would like to discuss this personally with Miss Bankston, sir."
Henry very much wouldn't.
He hates his life a lot of the time. But today just a little extra.
Even more so when the stylist calls and asks him what he would like to wear for the state dinner. When Philip texts and reminds him to make the new prime minister look good. When Shaan forwards him a briefing by the Downing Street press team about the photo ops they're going to have to do at the White House. When he finds a staged photo with the Prime Minister, the President and the White House Trio at the top of that very list. And just a little more when he learns that he is being sent on another one of those fake dates with some model or aspiring actress to keep up appearances. Which is of course going to be photographed and put into the press. For all the world, including Alex Claremont-Diaz, to see.
Henry is so royally fucked.
Even David winces a little when Henry tells him about his situation. When Henry eventually slouches on the couch, David hops up into his lap and snuggles into him. Henry lets out a sigh.
"You know, I'd like to tell myself that there's nothing that could possibly go wrong", he muses and scratches David's head, "but that's what I told myself last time. And now here we are."
David winces in support. He climbs into Henry's lap and lays down, rolling into a ball of fluff. His cold little nose touches Henry's hand. Somehow, it's a little soothing.
Maybe there is a way to get through this. It's only a dinner, after all.
+ 1
New York, June 2021
"Love, hurry up. We're going to be late."
There's a curse coming from the vague direction of the bedroom, then the thud of footsteps rumbling down the stairs. Well, one footstep. Because for some reason, Alex is still pulling a sock over his other foot as he descends the staircase.
If they weren't almost late already, Henry would take a moment to appreciate that level of balance.
Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at Alex from opposite the stairs, where he's leaning against the wall and waiting. Shoes (and socks) on, jacket in hand, ready to go.
"You're going to trip and break your neck at some point."
Alex grins smugly. "Perhaps. But at least I know you'll write me one hell of a eulogy."
Somehow, Alex makes it to the bottom of the staircase without breaking his neck. Henry is secretly glad for it. Not only because he intends to keep Alex around for the rest of his life, but also because – well, it would be quite the situation to explain to paramedics et al. Henry would much rather avoid that.
"Besides, what do you mean we're gonna be late?" Alex asks as he pulls one of Henry's old Oxford hoodies over his t-shirt. He walks over to the hallway closet and starts rummaging around for something. Henry internally winces as scarves, caps and the occasional dog outfit start dropping out at random. He just organized that closet the other day. "We're talking David for a walk. Last time I checked, beagles don't know how to read a clock."
"Excuse you, I did raise him to be very punctual," Henry counters.
Alex scoffs from where he's halfway disappeared into the closet. "He's a goddamn dog, H."
At that, David winces.
Immediately, Alex steps away from the closet and crouches to the floor to pet David's head. "I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean that. You know I think you can do anything you set your mind to."
"You better," Henry mumbles. He and David take a step closer to the front door. Alex, not so much.
Henry pointedly checks his watch again. "Come on now, or we're going to be late for real."
"It's still a walk, H. The two people and one dog involved in it are right here. There's no way we can be late", Alex mumbles, his voice muffled because he's back to rummaging around their winter clothes.
"Well, there is if two of the three involved individuals made lunch plans with June and Nora after."
"They're used to me being late. It's fine."
Henry rolls his eyes again, but relents anyway. It might have to do with the fact that Alex finally emerges from the closet, all soft eyes and even softer smile. After all, Henry is only a man.
So, he extends the arm that isn't holding David's leash and lets Alex step into his embrace. He pulls him close, breathes in the familiar scent. Alex wraps his arms around Henry's waist and lays his head against his shoulder.
Henry drops a kiss on Alex's curls and lets himself enjoy the familiar warmth of Alex's hug for a minute.
Until David yaps again, that is.
This time, Alex lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright, buddy. Message received. We're leaving."
He leans up and kisses Henry softly, then plucks David's leash from his hand and steps away, towards the door. He shoots Henry a smirk. "You coming? I don't wanna be late."
It's only been a few months since Henry and David moved across the pond, but thanks to their daily walks, they have been able to explore plenty of nice routes in nearby parks. They are close enough to be enjoyable, but far enough away from the main trails to allow them a modicum of privacy.
Henry walks David before he leaves for the shelter and then once again after he comes home. Alex joins them often enough, particularly when he needs to clear his head, rant about his day, or both.
Today, however, is the rare kind of weekend where neither of them is all that busy and they can take a walk just for walking's sake. No deadlines, papers or exams breathing down Alex's neck (yet), no thoughts about the shelter occupying Henry's mind. Just the two of them and David, relaxing and enjoying the summer sun.
Henry has David's leash in one hand and Alex's hand in the other, the sun is shining, but it's not unbearably hot yet. Later, they're going to meet June and Nora at a restaurant June has been dying to try out. And maybe check out the new Bond movie Alex has been nagging Henry about for weeks. But other than that, their day is blissfully empty.
Henry could get used to this.
He smiles softly at the thought. Because he does indeed get to get used to this.
Alex's voice brings him back to reality and the track ahead of him. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking."
"Wanna share with the class?"
Henry gently shakes his head and lets go of Alex's hand so he can wrap his free arm around his shoulder. "It's nothing, really. I was just getting a bit sentimental. About how nice this is, you know? Taking David for a walk, meeting up for lunch with friends, and doing whatever we want, just because we can. It's a nice change."
Alex's arm snakes around Henry's waist and squeezes. "You deserve it."
Henry smiles. "I know. It's just sometimes a little hard to wrap my head around. But I do know."
He looks to Alex and meets his gaze. Alex's brown eyes are all soft again, and filled with pride.
"Freedom looks good on you, baby."
The raw, honest emotion in his voice gets Henry a little emotional too, so instead of replying, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Alex's lips. And Alex is right – there is something to be said about having the liberty to kiss his own boyfriend on a sunny day in a public park, just because he wants to. Especially when said boyfriend runs one hand through his hair and uses the other one to pull him closer, and they can let their kiss become slightly more involved than Henry initially intended.
It's only when David pulls at his leash and barks that Henry pulls away to see what's going on, half alarmed that it might be something bad.
It is, actually, quite the opposite. A few steps down the path, David is approaching a puppy that looks heartwarmingly like David when Henry first met him. David barks once more, twice, then starts playing with the puppy as though they have been friends forever.
From the opposite end of the pathway, a young woman comes running, looking alarmed and slightly panicky. When she spots the puppy playing with David, she slows down.
"Sorry," she says towards Alex and Henry as she approaches, panting and face bright red. "I'm still trying to get him to get used to staying by my side, but it's a bit of a struggle."
"It's fine," Henry replies. "David here doesn't mind meeting new dogs."
"I'm glad," the girl says. She's now caught up to them and stands next to them, watching the two dogs play. "You named him David? That's adorable."
"After Bowie," Alex chimes in. "My boyfriend here is a huge fan."
The girl laughs. "That's adorable. Mine's called Abby. Not after anyone. I wish I had a story as fun as yours, though," she says. "He's a beagle too, isn't he?"
Henry nods. "He is. I got him a few years ago when I was…not having the best of times. But he's been my best mate ever since."
His heart sinks a bit at the reminder of why and when he got David. As though he'd sensed it, Alex's hand sneaks into his, squeezing lightly. Henry squeezes back and clears his throat.
"How long have you had yours?" he asks.
The girl laughs. "Oh, just a few weeks actually. I just moved to the city and didn't know anyone, and I was feeling a bit down and all, so I went to the shelter one day and there she was. And what can I say, that little rascal has been with me ever since. She's a piece of work sometimes, but she's a sweetheart. And she keeps me company through everything."
Henry hums and nods. "They are great company, aren't they?"
His gaze wanders over to David, who is still busy playing with his new friend. His tail is wagging, his little ears are flopping around and he's barking and yapping as if he's having the time of his life. Just like every time he's having a good time – whether it's out at the dog park, meeting new dogs on a walk, or just hanging out with Henry and being there for him whenever he needs him.
Henry's thoughts travel back to a moment from years ago in a park far, far way. A cold winter morning, fog hanging in the air, pebbles crunching under his shoes – so different from the current warm, airy summer day. A warm, familiar voice that he still misses, but whose memory doesn't hurt as much as it did years ago.
They make great friends. Especially when you're lonely.
Turns out his dad was right. David is, without a doubt, just about the greatest friend Henry has ever had. From an outsider's perspective, he may be just a dog – but Henry knows that it's to a considerable part thanks to his (most of the time) unwavering support that he was able to turn into the person he is today: an Oxford grad, a Star Wars Nerd, a part-time prince, a full-time Austen fan, a still relatively new New Yorker. A brother, a son, a boyfriend.
But certainly no longer lonely.
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#firstprince#firstprince fic#henry x alex#alex x henry#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#katwriting
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Domestic Lawlight is so funny to me these two would be the most annoying insufferable argumentative difficult couple ever.
Here's how I imagine a "Light asks L to help with basic chores" conversation going (they've been married for years):
Light: Hey L, take out the trash today.
L: I don't want to.
Light: Ok? I fail to see how that's relevant. I didn't want to spend my entire morning cleaning your smelly roach infested room, but I did anyway. Would it kill you to at least not throw your candy wrappers on the floor? You have a bin you know. Two bins.
L: I was planning to pick up the wrappers later today but you beat me to it.
Light: You always say that and then never end up doing it.
L: Just because Light-kun is too impatient to wait, doesn't mean I'm lying. You can't prove I wouldn't have picked up the wrappers had you waited, so this is a baseless accusation.
Light: So I'm the problem. For cleaning your mess.
L: I like how my room looks. Perhaps Light-kun should stop being judgemental of people with different lifestyles.
Light: Do I need to keep stressing that your room had a roach infestation problem.
L: The roaches are my friends.
Light: You are being unbelievably difficult. Is it that hard to take out the trash?
L: I don't want to.
Light: "I DoNT wAnT TO". Why do we have to have this conversation every time I ask you to help me with chores.
L: If Light doesn't like doing the chores I will just get Watari to do them.
Light: L. Watari will not be able to do your chores forever.
L: 20%.
Light: ??? I cannot believe you. I can't believe you are insinuating I would kill my father-in-law because I'm reasonably angry with you for throwing a tantrum every time I ask you to help with basic chores. Will my Kira-relapse percentage rise if I demand you do the dishes today too?
L: 30%.
Light: You are insufferable. Like actually insufferable. You know Watari's gonna die one day, right? He's already really old. I won't be here forever either. Who's gonna take care of you when that happens? Might as well start learning to be an adult now at 30. Better late than never.
L: I wouldn't worry. Light-kun is younger than me and I'm the one in actual threat of dying while doing my detective work. Besides, I'm married to Kira-kun. It's a miracle I haven't ended up dead yet. In any case, Light-kun will most certainly outlive me.
Light: ...I'll make you regret this, L.
Light: *angrily storms off with the garbage bag fuming with rage, already starting to craft a detailed extremely elaborate step-by-step plan to fake his own death so he can teach L a lesson about the importance of doing his goddamn household chores*
#if you don't force your blorbos act like an old married straight couple who hate each other but refuse to get divorced do you even love them#light is correct here btw. you know its fucked up when light “murdering is my coping mechanism” yagami somehow has the moral high ground#death note#l lawliet#light yagami#lawlight#💬 katposts#🤪 sillygoofy#✒️ katwrites
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Heads Up 7-Up Tag Game
tagged by @pandirpus! always happy to share a wip teehee
Rules: Post seven sentences from your latest WIP and then tag (up to) seven people to do the same.
Katsuki whipped his hand out of his pants like he’d been burned. “LEARN TO KNOCK, DIPSHIT!” he roared — and immediately descended into a violent coughing fit.
“Kacchan! Ah, I’m so sorry!”
Fucking Deku — because of course it was him — was flapping around in the doorway, waving his hands aimlessly in front of his bright red face. By the time Katsuki finally wrestled his own breathing back under control, Deku had settled with his hands slapped flat over his face, fingers covering his eyes.
“I just wanted to ask if you needed anything!” he said loudly into his own palms.
tagging @katwritely @hehebread @doctorweebmd @sunnybimbo and @symbolofsimpery if you want! <3
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Malec as Parents #6
Parenting isn’t always easy, but this sixth recommendation shows how Malec always makes it work.
This is Family Business by katwriting
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: People say that growing up is a trap...well, watching people growing up is no easier. Especially when they are your own children.
“I’m always right,” Magnus muttered, before capturing Alec’s lips in another gentle kiss. His lips pulled into a tiny smirk when he felt Alec’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, and Alec’s tongue grazing over his bottom lip. Magnus was just about to test the waters for turning their gentle, lazy kisses into something a tiny bit more passionate, when they were interrupted by an all-too familiar high-pitched yelling coming from Max and Rafael’s room.
“Daaaaads! Max spilled watercolor on my shirt!
Link to fic
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Merry Christmas, @katwriting!
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im planning to fill your ask box so my requests are gonna be shorter than hoe i would usually ask them, i hope that’s okay<33 :))
karlnapity with a s/o on their period. imagine the comfort and cuddles, they would do anything to make their s/o happy, especially when their s/o is in pain (cramps).
- 👻
ghost anon my beloved
karlnapity x gn!reader (fem anatomy implied)
summary// periods are are a pain, you're grateful you have three wonderful boyfriend's to help with the pain
warnings// none
genre// fluff
today was, less than ideal to put it simply. your professors had decided to dump an overload of assignments on you, there was a surplus of entitled people at the cafe you worked at and to top it all off today was the day your period cramps had decided to get really bad.
a majority of the time the pain was barrable, only having to deal with the general discomfort and sometimes overwhelming emotions. but unfortunately do you, the universe had decided today was going to be simply shit. after finishing your dreadfully boring homework all you wanted was to curl up with your boyfriends and nap.
"hngg" groaning as you put a hand on your stomach to hopefully help with the pain, you slowly walked to the living room, where your boyfriend karl was sitting with your other boyfriend sapnap. sapnap lets out a little "oompf" as you flop onto his chest. karl giggles and sapnap runs his hand through your hair. "hi baby, you okay?" you shake your head and nuzzle yourself deeper into sapnap's chest. he frowns and motions for karl to move closer to you. karl scoots next to you and rubs circles on your back. "what's wrong darling?" karl asks.
you reluctantly pull away from sapnap's chest so you can talk better. you sigh and begin ranting about the days struggles and about your cramps. the boys look at you sympathetically, sapnap continuing with playing with your hair and karl opting to whisper sweet words to you. he briefly pauses and pulls out his phone before putting it back away after sending what you assumed was a text message. "where's Alex?" you mumble.
karl starts moving closer to you and sapnap so he would be able to hold both of you. he replies to your questions with a quiet "he's at the store i think" you hummed, hoping you'd be able to just cuddle and nap with all three of your boyfriends right now, but it's fine you could wait a bit.
the two boys continue cuddling with you and letting you talk about your day. not long after you hear a rattling and the familiar voice of your boyfriend quackity call out. "I'm home!!" he walks over to the kitchen to place some things down and walks to the living room with a plastic bag. "cuddling? without me? I'm hurt" Alex jokingly cries. sapnap playfully rolls his eyes and karl giggles. you shift a bit and open your arms motioning for him to come join your cuddle pile.
"oh! before i forget, this is for you!" Alex prooudly hands you the plastic bag he was holding. you grab it and open it up. inside was a heating pad, a blanket in your favorite color, your favorite snacks and your favorite drinks.
your heart melted at his gift, you grinned and pressed a kiss on his nose. "thank you baby" you giggled. Alex blushes and says "you're very welcome my love, though you should thank karl, he had the idea to have my pick stuff up for you."
you turn to karl who's a mess of giggles and smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and giggling as well. "hey! where's my kiss?" sapnap pouted. you smiled at your adorable boyfriend and pressed a kiss on his cheek before pulling quackity into your cuddle pile.
the rest of the day was spent with them. watching films, eating snacks, and ending the day with cooling dinner together before crashing into bed and cuddling each other to sleep. yeah your period could get back but you're lucky to have such helpful and sweet boyfriends.
a/n: i feel like this is slightly shorter than what I normally write but im still pretty proud of it :)
#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#mcyt x you#mcyt#mcyt fluff#mcytfluff#karl x reader#sapnap x reader#quackity x reader#karlnapity x reader#poly!karlnapity x reader#gn!reader#katwrites#comfort#mcyt comfort#karl x gn!reader#sapnap x gn!reader#quackity x gn!reader
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P1HARMONY- SCENARIO: FIRST TIME SLEEPING OVER WITH THEIR S/O (HYUNG LINE ONLY)
hello! heyhi it’s kat! i’ve decided that as of right now i’m going to only be writing for the hyung line of p1harmony , thank you!
THEO
• he was PREPARED.
•he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to already have what you need
• clothes? check. hygiene? check. if you need any comfort items? check.
• he was a little nervous and shy at first (but he would hate to admit it)
• he put on ur favorite movies while he cuddles you
• and when you got tired? no problemo! he would either put the two of you in a comfortable position on the couch, or he would move the both of you to his bed
• very very very sweet boyfriend
KEEHO
• oh boy he’s scared
• in his defense you caught him off guard
• “hey keeho, can i stay the night? it’s too late to drive”
• well he wasn’t gonna DECLINE
• he literally got so nervous, you couldn’t hold his hand for the rest of the night because of how clammy his hands got
• he got the hang of it eventually!…. sorta..?
• he ordered takeout for you guys
• he sure as hell wasn’t gonna cook.. i know you all saw when he burned the tortilla.
• HE FELL ASLEEP BEFORE YOU??
• it’s okay being a leader is hard
JIUNG
• i see this being a complete accident
• LIKE you two kinda just lose track of time when you’re with each other
• he invited you over to play some games with him
• it got competitive really quick
• what felt like a few hours was actually the entire day
• when he checked his phone it was like two in the morning and he was like “well, it’s too late for you to go home”
• you weren’t complaining
• he literally was not fazed
• he just got into bed and pat the spot next to him
• he definitely got in trouble with the group the next day
• he woke up to 14 missed calls from jongseob, 42 messages from keeho, and 2 facetime calls from theo
• it was definitely worth it
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this is dumb, but i have yet another au idea and no time to write it because college is literally killing my free time so i’m just gonna do it here lol (it’s royality because i am too far into this ship, rip)
a human!au where roman goes to therapy at dr. emile picani’s office every monday
the waiting room is v nice and has all sorts of books and magazines but also it has all sorts of adult coloring books scattered about
the coloring books are roman’s absolute favorite thing to do while waiting
he’s usually able to finish a page before his appointment because they’re pretty small and roman’s generally a pretty fast colorer
but this time he only manages to get about halfway through a page before he’s called into the office
(in his defense it was a really big piece and he wanted to take his time to make it look nice!)
so he carefully initials the drawing (RP for Roman Prince) so he can find the drawing next week and finish it
so cue roman coming in next week, settling down and grabbing the book only to find that the page he was working on?? has been finished??
whoever had finished the picture used much lighter colors to contrast roman’s more dramatic colors
they had also signed their initials right next to roman’s in bright blue - PF
roman is, of course, horrified that someone had the gall to finish his picture
so he starts another page, and he once again only finishes half of the page before he’s called in
so he initals the work and then leaves a note to this PF that basically boils down to “don’t finish this you heathen”
but when he comes back next week it’s finished and the person leaves a nice little note in response
this goes on for a while, exchanging notes as they color a page a week together
until one day roman can’t make it on a monday and reschedules his appointment for thursday
so he walks in and sees this guy with the coloring book and he’s like “OH MY GOD IT’S YOU”
the guy is startled but then realizes that roman is the person he’s been coloring with
they introduce themselves (PF stands for patton foster, roman finds out) and they eventually start hanging out together and it’s v gay and cute and yes
#royality#roman sanders#patton sanders#sanders sides#roman sanders/patton sanders#katwrites#sort of#look i'm tired and i found this in my drafts and i think it's cute lol#i realize it's probably a really dumb idea#but oh well#i wish i had time to write this#i might get around to it one day
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rushing back
Can we not rewrite our history, if we find it disagreeable?
OR: based on a prompt: months after Charlotte leaves Sanditon, Sidney sees her at a ball in London.
-------------
Had Sidney known of Charlotte’s arrival in London, he would have chosen to return to Sanditon and miss the Season altogether.
At the very least, he thought, he would not have made an appearance at any ball where he would have stood a chance of seeing her. But it was too late now, for he was already in the great room of Almack’s, Eliza by his side, and both of them watched the couples finishing off a set of quadrille, Charlotte amongst them. From the far end of the room, where he stood, he could barely see her, but he knew it was her. Under all the layers of finery that embellished her now, it was still her.
The quadrille ended, and a waltz began, which Charlotte, unsurprisingly easily finding a new partner, joined.
Under the pretext of getting them both some punch, he left Eliza to discuss the latest gossip with one of her acquaintances, and made his way through the crowd towards the other end of the room. From there, he had a better view, and was at the same time concealed from her notice in part by those standing in front of him. So he stood, and observed.
Seeing her was like a gut punch, and all the feelings that he had hoped to have buried somewhere far, far on the outskirts of his soul, — they all came rushing back.
Charlotte had left Sanditon four months ago, and was unchanged yet different in every way. She wore a silver gown, and looked more than beautiful — perfect, even, — but he longed to see her the way she had been in Sanditon: provincial-looking in her simple yet becoming dresses, with her flowing hair tangling in the wind. There had been something endearing about that, and it had made her appear sweet and approachable, but now she was one of the ladies of the beau monde. She was whirled in a waltz by her partner, all elegant and composed, her occasional smile charming the man out of his wits. Sidney had no doubt about that, for who could withstand Charlotte’s smile?
continue reading on AO3
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Steps to Mend
Oh hey guess what ya bitch is back with a little bit of Dreammare that I started months ago lmao
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nightmare took some convincing to let Ink host a party at his castle- "Why can't you just do it somewhere else?"- but eventually he agreed to it. Ink reasoned that out of the entire multiverse, Nightmare is the planeswalker with the biggest enclosed space and can therefore host the party.
"What for?" He had asked. Ink had only answered that it was just for fun, to bring the AUs together and have a good time. Nightmare reluctantly agreed- "Just don't fuck up my castle." And so it was agreed that Nightmare's castle was the place to go for the party.
Looking out across the crowd, Nightmare can't say he regrets it, either. Why stop them? They seem to be having a good time, and Dream would disapprove of him trying to prevent it. Speaking of Dream…
From the balcony, he can see the other standing, chatting with Ink, wearing a cream-colored suit with gold accents. It's a bit bittersweet to see him like this, but Nightmare can't help but admire him from where he is. Maybe he'll deign to come down and participate in the party. There's only one reason he'll do it, and Nightmare is looking right at him.
He decides he'll join in. Ink spots him as he leaves the balcony and nudges Dream, quietly mentioning that Nightmare had probably been watching over the party.
"What does it matter? It's unlikely that he'll get himself involved anyway. Not unless he feels he needs to show off as a host." Dream shakes his head, smiling softly at Ink. "Think nothing of it. There's a party in his castle, it's his business to watch."
"I suppose, but he was watching you."
That's a spark of hope for Dream.
Nightmare finally comes out, causing people to back away as he makes his way to his throne and sits down. There's tension for a few moments as the rest of his team follows and stands in front of him, but Nightmare dismisses them- "Go, have fun, but no harm should come to anyone here." He mutters something else to them sharply, then waves them off. They are delighted to join the party- except Error, who immediately finds a corner and settles there.
Nightmare leans back in his throne, fidgeting with his circlet that he had brought. He doesn't know whether he should put it on or not. He looks down at it, frowning a bit but then looking out across the crowd at Dream.
He places the crown on his head.
With that done, he walks out into the crowd, making conversation with a few (very scared) Sanses in the crowd but finding no interest in any of them. As a new slow song starts, Nightmare slides his way over to Dream, taking one of Dream's hands and placing his free hand on the other's waist. "Night-?"
"Just dance with me, Dream. I don't want to speak for now." Nightmare kisses Dream's forehead, smiling as the other places a hand on his shoulder in return. "There you go, Starlight…" he murmurs, guiding the other out onto the dancefloor, into the edge of the crowd. They take small steps, slowly moving along with the crowd and turning little by little. As the song goes on, Dream finds himself with his arm wrapped around Nightmare’s torso and his head leaning on the other’s chest. He misses having been close with Nightmare.
The music goes on, but Dream can hardly focus on it. As they slowly step and sway in unison, seemingly alone even in the crowd of people doing the same, Dream can't help but start to tear up. Does this mean peace for him and Nightmare? If only for a night, if only for a dance, he rests in the other's embrace and soaks in his presence.
This is only the beginning to a long recovery. These are only the first steps to mend.
#utmv#nightmare sans#ink sans#dream sans#ink#dream#nightmare#dreammare#nightdream#dreamxnightmare#this is based off of something that happened with me in real life so i really connect with it#lp writes#katwrites
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Whumptober Day 24 - Secret Injury
ALRIGHT FUCKERS IT'S LATE BUT IT'S HERE - I wrote half of this while basically high off xanax (it's prescribed, don't come for me), so if it sucks, I blame it on that.
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia
Summary: During a "Survival" exercise, class 1-A is sent into the woods to fend for themselves and make it through the night; it goes well, until it doesn't. The League of Villains drop of a nomu at the campsite, and chaos ensues. Bakugou kind of gets thrown into a tree and gets a bit fucked up, but neglects to mention it until he basically can't hide it any longer.
Time line of the story happens before All Might retires.
Warnings: Blood, violence, slight emeto.
Parings: KiriBaku if you really squint, because fuck you
Words: 6,713
Art and fic under the cut!!
Bakugou POV
Goddammit, Bakugou hated the outdoors. He always thought that families who went camping "for fun" were psychopaths and/or masochists. So it explains why the blonde was less than enthused when it was announced that the class would be doing a survival trip in the wilderness. Which, in the first place, didn't make any fucking sense. This wasn't boy scouts - they were all UA students, future heroes. Aizawa made some bullshit excuse that it was going to be a way to test resourcefulness and teamwork.
Everyone else in the class seemed pretty excited, seemed to be viewing it as a vacation, and Bakugou secretly added all their names to the list of "psychopaths and/or masochists". He thought maybe he could tell them he caught a bad bug and had to stay home, but Aizawa told them that the exercise was being scored as a test, and well, goddammit that just ruined that idea. There was no way out of this apparently, so Bakugou held his tongue and retired to his dorm that night to pack his bag - which mind you, there was not much they were allowed to bring. A change of clothes, and that was pretty much it. No cellphones, no electronics or any kind for that matter, they couldn't even bring books for recreation. Wanna brush your teeth in the morning? Too damn bad, use a leaf for all they cared.
The sun had barely risen and they were on their way. The bus ride was long... and fucking loud. He was sharing his seat with Kirishima, although Bakugou didn't really get a say in the matter, the spiky haired bastard just sat down and made himself at home. Mina was leaning over the seat in front of them talking excitedly to Kirishima about all the "cool and fun" things they were gonna do, who was going to build the best shelter, what kind of food they could catch, blah, blah, fucking blah. Bakugou never wished for his phone and earphones more in his life.
By the time they arrived at the site, they had to hike (yes, fucking hike) about a mile to a safe house. Apparently U.A. had a lot of these little buildings placed in the most random places ever. Basically armed with what people would need in case of emergencies. There was rationed food, water, a radio broadcaster, a TV that looked like it was straight from the 1990's, etc. Someone had also taken the time to pack all the class' hero gear into a crate which was being brought in by All Might.
Bakugou watched as Aizawa was desperately trying to get a hold of everyone's attention, before President Mic basically said, "Nah, I got this", and screamed at the top of his lungs which basically gave everyone a heart attack, but successfully got them to be quiet. Aizawa rubbed at his ears, "Yeah, okay, thanks President Mic. Anyway, students, here we start our Survival Test. Let's get the rules out of the way first. Rule number one, absolutely no use of any of your quirks. Two, if I find out that one of you managed to sneak in something on the "do not bring" list, you will be given a failing grade. And three, everyone must make their own shelter; no shaking up. Now, there will be three main areas set up, and you will all be divided between those three. I will be accompanying one-"
"And me one!" President Mic boomed. Bakugou prayed to any god that was listening that he wouldn't get stuck at that one.
"And me, of course!" All Might stood heroically.
Aizawa continues, "Yes, anyway, there's 20 of you in total so there will be one group of six, and two group of seven. These goes as follows; My group will be the one with six. I will have Aoyama, Asui, Iida, Koda, Shoji, and Tokoyami."
Present Mic took the stand next, "And I will have Mineta, Sero, Todoroki, Sato, Kaminari, Ojiro, and Mina."
Kirishima elbowed Bakugou and whispered to him, "That means we're together with All Might!" Bakugou inwardly groaned, not just that, but he was about to be paired up with fucking Deku of all people.
"And of course that means," All Might spoke next, "I will have Uraraka, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Midoriya, Hagekure, Bakugou, and Jiro."
There was a little bit of mixed groaning from those who got split up from their friends, and the gleeful cheering of those who got paired with theirs. Aizawa spoke up again, "It was all selected randomly, so if you have complaints, I really don't care. Get with your team leader, pay attention and take the lesson seriously, and we'll meet up tomorrow afternoon."
Clicking his tongue, annoyed by the whole situation, Bakugou followed Kirishima to meet up with everyone else around All Might, taking precaution to stay as far away from Deku as possible; this trip was already shitty enough, he really didn't need that fucking nerd ruining it anymore.
"Alright team!" All Might started, and then handed everyone a paper with instructions, tips, and a small map on it, "We have many tasks to do today, and not much time to do them! Everything has to be completed by nightfall or you will either wake up hungry, or be forced to sleep on nothing but dirt. I will be supervising you - after all this is for a grade. If I see someone slacking off and not pulling their weight, their grade will be docked. But," He paused, "That doesn't mean we can't have fun while we're at it!"
'Oh, gag me with a fucking spoon', Bakugou thought to himself. Round face and Deku were looking at the map and excitedly pointing things out to each other, Hagekure was jumping up and down in thrill, and Kirishima was already talking to Jiro about how they were gonna start a forest fire, which... fucking hell, let's hope not.
"Alright gang, let's head out!"
They had all fucking neglected to mention the fact that the camp sites were an almost a seven mile hike away from the safe house, and by the time they got there, Bakugou was already ready to call it quits. If the summer heat paired with the hiking wasn't going to kill him, it was going to be the dozens of bug bites he's probably already gotten.
With a small huddle and deviation of tasks it seemed that Bakugou was stuck with Jiro and Kirishima to collect enough fire wood to last the night, set up animal snares (which damn, that seemed a little brutal for a school trip), finding a good source of reliable water, and of course, building their own shelter.
It was tiring, boring, irritating, and by the end of it all Bakugou's body was already covered in a light sun burn, countless thorn bush scratches, and somehow had gotten burs in his hair. They had successfully caught two rabbits, while Yaoyorozu and Hagekure had caught enough fish for them to all have at least one - so they were good on food although they were all a little grossed out by the aspect of the whole wilderness to table dining.
Bakugou set to building his shelter pretty fast but honestly had no fucking idea where to even start. There were some tips on the paper they were given, but honestly he was just stealing looks at the one Yaoyorozu was building and trying to copy it as much as possible, and pretty much failing miserably. Well... it was standing and it was big enough for him to fit under if he curled up, so Bakugou decided to count that as a win.
Night fell pretty quickly, and it was time to get the fire started and make dinner. Starting a fire was not the easiest task in the world, and after about ten minutes of a bunch of his useless classmates trying and failing to get a good spark, Bakugou just wanted to run over there and set the whole thing ablaze - but noooo, that was against the rules. After what seemed like fucking forever, the kindling caught and they had enough fire to spit roast their catches.
Turns out - unseasoned fish and rabbit? Not that fucking good. Like... at all. But with all the energy that Bakugou had spent that day completing dumb tasks out in this godforsaken forest, he didn't complain much; and just chased down the bland food with the water he collected from a nearby river earlier.
Everyone retired for the night (can he just mention the absolute fuckery it was that All Might got to bring a whole pop up tent) and Bakugou celebrated how close they were to being done with this bullshit. Wake up in the morning, tear everything down, clean up, and head back home. Hallelujah.
Of course though - things can't go that smoothly for anybody in this fucking school.
Bakugou was roused from his not very restful slumber, I mean how nice can you sleep when you're laying on a bunch of dirt and twigs, by a scream coming that ran out through air; Hagakure. At first he thought the girl had woken up to a bug crawling on her, and just turned over and tried to go back to sleep - but that wasn't the case. He heard something he would never be able to forget his whole life, a sound that was introduced to him when they first met, the heart-dropping sadistic laugh of Shigaraki.
The League of Villains.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Bakugou jumped up from his shelter, hands immediately sparking up, looking the threat - but it was dark. The campfire had almost died down and he could barely make out some shadows, which he didn't know who was his classmates, and who were villains. By this time it seemed everyone had jolted from their sleep, mumbling to each other about what was going on, who was screaming, was it a false alarm. Maybe it was? Maybe it was a training exercise and that was the real reason the were brought out here?
Before Bakugou's brain could land on a concrete answer, there was suddenly a huge hand on his shoulder, gripping it painfully before violently flinging him backwards. He helplessly flew through the air until his body collided with a nearby tree, knocking the air from his lungs, and Bakugou swore he could hear something inside him crack. Consciousness must have left Bakugou for a second, but when he opened his eyes again things were still just as dark, and everyone was still engulfed in a confused panic.
His mouth tasted like copper, and he was briefly aware of a warm liquid lazily sliding down his forehead. Then, like a sick, sadistic light switch got flipped on, agony ripped through the blonde. Everything hurt, but the pain seemed to blossom from his left shoulder and side, and then jolt like hot electricity throughout the rest of his body. Turning his head to the side, Bakugou sit the copper from his mouth, and wiped a mixture of blood and sweat from his brow. He sat there for a while, just trying to regain his bearings, breathe through the pain. If Bakugou were a betting man, he'd guess he cracked a few of his ribs, but he couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with the shoulder; it hurt like hell and felt... just wrong. Goddammit, every breath was like getting a knife jabbed into his side.
Another scream rang out from one his classmates, and there was suddenly a bright flash of what looked like lightening with All Might's voice ringing out an attack's name. It was quick, but it the moment of light Bakugou could see a little bit of what was going on - All Might charging at a huge, muscled humanoid; a nomu. That must have been what grabbed him and flung him around like a good damn yo-yo.
He would never admit it, but he let out a breath of relief when he saw that the rest of his classmates seemed fine, just shaken up and starting to scramble back from the direction that All Might had projected himself towards.
In the bright flash there were also no signs of other villains. It was almost like Shigaraki dropped off the nomu and just dipped out - making his head spin of where he had gone and what he was doing. He thought of the other campsites.
"Bakugou?" Kirishima's voice spoke up, soft and shaking, "Where are you?"
Trying to stand up was easier said than done; his whole body protested. As soon as any pressure was put on his left arm to try and push himself up, Bakugou's vision went white with blinding pain and he had to bite his cheek to keep from yelling out. Okay, right arm it was. Gingerly, he was able to pull himself into a somewhat steady standing position and walk, well more like limp, his way over to Kirishima. He gingerly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, feeling Kirishima jump under it, "It's me, shitty hair."
Blindly, Bakugou reached around before his hand landed on one of the other classmate's shelter before he quickly lit it ablaze to get a better picture of what was going on, "There we fucking go."
Like he had seen earlier, all of the other classmates were fine and accounted for. Following the noises of the fight, Bakugou was able to get a clear look at All Might; hand to hand with the nomu and trying to push him backwards. The first idea that popped into Bakugou's mind was to help his teacher out and join the fight, but with his busted arm and ribs, he didn't think he'd be much use. Of course the most competent one here would get put on a fucking crutch.
Suddenly All Might spoke up, his voice booming through the stagnant night air and echoing off the trees, "Listen, students, I need you all to hurry back to the safe house. The other teachers will tell the rest of the students to do the same. Once you're-" He was cut off by the nomu taking a swing at him which he successfully dodged and was able to knock the creature back a bit, "Once you're there, radio the school. Tell them what's going on. Fight only if absolutely necessary, and stick together."
Running was the absolute last thing Bakugou wanted to do - that was such a weak thing to do, so cowardly. He wanted to yell back at All Might and tell him that wasn't going to fucking happen, but the nomu jumped on him again and they locked up together again, "Go!"
Yaoyorozu ran up to Bakugou and the other students who were now standing closely together under the flames that he had created earlier, "I memorized the map from the paper, let's get the hell out of here," she took note of the worry written on some of the other student's faces, "All Might can handle it. He's counting on us to do our part in this situation too."
Okay, yeah, easier said than done, Bakugou thought. Just a moment ago he was wanting to rush in to join the fight, but his adrenaline was leaving his bloodstream slowly and the pain was getting more and more nagging as time went on. He let out an aggravated groan, "Fine, let's fucking go. Yaoyorozu, lead the way."
She nodded in confirmation and without hesitation materialized a flashlight before taking off, the rest of the class following behind her.
Running was... uncomfortable, to say the least. Every time one of Bakugou's feet connected with the ground, a spike of pain shot through him like a bullet, but at this point the only thing he could do about it was grin and bear it.
After the noises of fighting from All Might and the nomu slowly faded behind them, Deku spoke up, "Everyone okay?"
Everyone rang in with a hushed, "fine," or, "all good here," and Kirishima's personal, "scared shitless, but other wise okay!" Bakugou spoke up as well, "We're all fine, so shut the fuck up, and focus on not running into a tree, shitty nerd." Bakugou was anything but fine, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that; it would also cause everyone else to give him their needless pity instead of focusing on the task at hand. Best to keep it under wraps for now, but goddammit did it fucking hurt. Every quick dash around an obstacle twisted his body in a way where he swear he could feel the broken bone fragments rub together and his vision would go white for a moment, but he continued onward.
Bakugou was lagging behind, taking up the rear with Kirishima an arms length away from him, so nobody could see him cradle his injured arm protectively to his body, trying to keep it from being jostled too much. If he was being honest though, there was a cold numbness that was starting to seep into Bakugou's left hand, starting in his fingers and slowly working it's way up - that couldn't be good; although part of him was glad because it made it a little less painful.
Suddenly, a horrible familiar raspy voice sounded from behind them, "And where do you all thing you're going?"
Shigaraki. Fuck.
They all whipped around, the flash light illuminating him a bit, his disgustingly pale face, as he reached a hand Bakugou. Shit, if that fucker touched him, Bakugou was going to have a lot more to deal with on his plate, so with quick thinking he blasted himself backwards, "Fuck off!"
Without warning, the light was extinguished and Yaoyorozu's voice rang out, "Scatter!"
Before Bakugou could think about which direction to run in, a rough calloused hand grabbed hold of his left wrist and pulled right. It took everything in Bakugou's will to not let out a shriek of agony, gritting his teeth so hard he tasted blood. The owner of the hand on him spoke up, it was Kirishima, "I have no idea where I'm going!"
The way Kirishima was jostling his arm was almost unbearable, "Fucking let go of me, shitty hair!"
Kirishima did as he was told, but complained, "Fine, but stay close, I don't want to lose you in here!"
"I can handle my damn self, I'm not incompetent like the rest of you fuckers," Bakugou bit back, "Worry about yourself!" The moon had finally moved directly over the woods, and while the line of vision was still not the best, it was at least a little easier to see the basics of what was going on around them. Bakugou glanced behind him, "That fucker isn't following us."
Kirishima made an affirmative noise, "We should find a place to hide for a bit to collect our thoughts and come up with a plan."
Stopping didn't really seem like the best choice, but at this point, Bakugou would take any chance to sit down and try and even out his breathing. The harsh gasps that came from running were like shattered glass running through his blood, "Fine." The pain that enveloped Bakugou unfortunately wasn't the type you could get used to, instead it was the kind that was growing in intensity - aside from his arm which was numb almost all the way up to his elbow at this point. The pain was making Bakugou's mind hazy, he wasn't going to be able to keep a clear head much longer, god he just... just wanted to sit down.
"There!" Kirishima pointed at a large hollow tree that was a couple yards ahead of them. Bakugou followed and they finally collapsed into the shadow's of the tree's cavernous opening. The boy's labored breathing echoed off the wood walls that encompassed them, working their way up the trunk.
Kirishima broke the silence first, "O-Okay, so we ran right, right?" he breathed through gasps of air, and Bakugou gave him a hum of approval, "So if Yaoyorozu was going to the safe house in a straight shot, we just need to run forwards, but diagonally left."
Bakugou didn't really think it was all that simple, but it was the best shot they had at this point, "Sounds good enough, shitty hair."
The two rested there a bit longer taking a moment to catch their breath and recharge their stamina a bit, but this time Bakugou's adrenaline was hanging on by a tiny thread at this point. A wave of pain rushed over him, eyes going wide, biting his cheek until blood filled his mouth and slammed his head into the hollow wood behind him; anything to take the edge off the torment that was his ribs and shoulder.
"You good over there?"
"Just frustrated," not technically a lie.
Bakugou could feel Kirishima's skepticism and hesitance, "Alright, well... you ready to head back out there and run for our lives?"
No, "Yep, let's go."
Getting back up again proved to be almost as challenging as it was the first time Bakugou pushed himself up and away from the fucking tree he got slammed into. With only his right arm working properly, he used the tree's trunk to help himself up onto unsteady legs. He was being slow, Bakugou knew, but if he moved too fast he would be engulfed in pain, but if he was too slow he was going to compromise both his and Shitty Hair's safety. They had to keep moving, because holy fuck they were being chased by maniacs; actual psychopaths, and not just the "I like camping" ones.
The two took off running again; it felt like Bakugou had been doing this for hours, he was exhausted. His body was crashing, fast. A rouge tree branch wacked him painfully, catching him right in his injured shoulder and he couldn't bite back the gasp of pain that left his lips fast enough.
"Yeah, man, these thorn bushes are killer on the legs," Kirishima let out a weakhearted chuckle.
Yeah, thorn bushes. Honestly the little pricks cutting up his legs was all but ignored compared to the agony that was radiating through his side. God, he was so fucking weak. Bakugou hated feeling inferior, and that exact feeling was starting to overwhelm him as he realized he was lagging behind, putting more and more distance between him and Kirishima. In a last ditch effort, Bakugou tried pushing more power into his legs, but it didn't too much. The exhaustion, the pain, the... everything was taking over. It was torture.
Up ahead, Kirishima cursed, "Fuck!"
Panic seized Bakugou's chest, "What? What's wrong?" Kirishima had stopped running, and Bakugou caught up with him before he saw it - a small cliff standing right in front of them, easily seven feet tall, "Ah, fuck indeed." Bakugou cast a glance to the left, then to his right, but it seemed that the cliff stretched on for quite some distance; Kirishima seemed to notice this as well. If the boys wanted to keep their straight shot, they were going to have to find a way over it.
"Fuck!" Kirishima cursed again, "Okay, Bakugou, blast yourself up there, and then help pull me up. There's nothing my quirk can do to help me here."
The thought of having to pull up his lug of a friend was enough to cause him to pale, but Bakugou didn't see any other option at this point. Fuck! "Fine, let's get this over with." Bakugou sent off little pops in his hands, gearing up for the bigger blast that followed shortly after. Shit! He overshot it! Good news, Bakugou cleared the cliff just fine - bad news, the ground was rushing up to him pretty fast. With quick thinking, he let off another small explosion to cushion the fall, which worked as good as it could have in theory. Bakugou landed on his back, the breath knocked out of his lungs and for a split second he thought he was going to pass out again. FUCK, it hurt. Taking a moment to try and catch his breath and wait for the agony to slowly ebb away, Bakugou stared up at this sky, not knowing if the stars he was seeing were real or just the exhaustion and dizziness taking him over.
"Bakugou?" Kirishima whispered harshly, "Everything okay up there? You need to pull me up."
"I know!" Bakugou barked, "Shut the fuck up, just give me a second."
Bakugou stole a breath and steeled himself. He could do this. All he had to do was pull Kirishima up. Bakugou wasn't weak, he could do this dammit! Bakugou leaned over the side of the cliff, his arms dangling down for Kirishima to grab, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his ribs as they dug into the ground below him. Kirishima grabbed his hands and Bakugou pulled up and-
No, nope, he couldn't do this. There was no fucking way. Bakugou let go immediately, letting out a strangled cry, cradling his left arm in his lap, eyes pickling with forced tears. He barely registered the sound of Kirishima landing harshly back on the ground below him, but Bakugou could care less. At this point it took everything in Bakugou to keep his vision stable and clear as white, hot bolts of lightning jolted outwards across his body from his shoulder.
"-kugou!" Kirishima was yelling up at him, "What happened? Are you okay? Bakugou, answer me!"
"Shut up, shitty hair! I'm fucking fine, just..," Okay, how was Bakugou going to explain this, did he tell the truth? No, he could just use his right arm to pull him up. He reached back down and Kirishima hesitantly took his arm.
"You got me this time?"
"Yes, so shut the fuck up, and get the hell up here already!"
Kirishima used Bakugou's strength and the wall as he repelled his way up the cliff. It didn't hurt as much as the first attempt, but this one was much harder on his ribs. The muscles in his sides contracted around the broken bones, using whatever strength Bakugou had left to pull up his friend. Afer a lot of discomfort and curses, Kirishima was finally up, already on his feet. Bakugou stayed on the ground, rolling again onto his back and gasping up at the sky.
Reaching his hand out for Bakugou, Kirishima said, "Alright let's go."
Already? "Just let me fucking breathe for a second, fuck." Bakugou know he didn't have time to just sit around feeling sorry for himself, "Please... Just a second."
Please? Really? Since when did Bakugou let that word slip past his lips.
"So, uh," Kirishima spoke up tentatively, "What's wrong with your arm?"
Bakugou cursed at himself. Kirishima may not have the best grades, but he was pretty attentive to details, "Nothing, asshole. I'm fine."
"I'm not blind, Bakugou," He crouched down next to Bakugou's flat out body, "It's your left arm, right? You tried pulling me up, yelled, and then used just your right. Did you hurt it?"
Bakugou wanted to scream at him, tell him to keep his shitty opinions to himself, but he could only let out a strained, "No."
Kirishima snapped, yelling in a hushed whisper, "Just be truthful with me for once, goddammit! For once. Shove your damn pride out of the way and tell me what's wrong!"
"I don't know what's wrong with it, okay?" Bakugou bit back, "It just hurts, now fuck off and let's go." Which was the last thing he wanted to do, but if it got him away from this conversation, Bakugou would gladly push onward.
"When did it start hurting?" His friend pressed him, "Did you run into a tree or something?"
Before Bakugou could stop himself he was blurting out the truth, "More like thrown into one."
"What?" Kirishima's voice raised before he quieted himself, "When the hell did that happen?"
He shouldn't have said anything. Bakugou should have just kept his damn mouth shut, but there was no hiding anything anymore. The moment Kirishima got a whiff of something even the smallest bit off, he'd keep pressing and pressing the issue until the person facing him finally caved, "Back at the campsite. That fucking nomu bastard threw me; hard. Fucked up my arm."
Kirishima was silent for a moment and Bakugou could tell he was seething, "You should have told me right away, asshole! Are you at least okay besides the arm?"
Bakugou remained silent. Why did he feel guilty? It wasn't his fault he got injured. It wasn't his fucking fault.
"I'll take that as a no then," Kirishima responded to his lack of answer, "What else is wrong?"
Bakugou opened his mouth to answer before shutting it again. He didn't want to admit anything. He didn't want to tell Kirishima. Pain was a sign of weakness. Injuries were weaknesses, "I, uh," Bakugou's voice faltered as it broke the silence, "I think some of my ribs are broken."
Suddenly, a harsh thud came from the ground right beside Bakugou's head, and for a second his heart seized thinking that the enemies found them, but realized that Kirishima had punched the dirt, "Dammit, Bakugou! Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"
Guilt. It ran through him rampantly, "It wasn't the time. It still isn't. All Might said to get to the safe house. I would have just... slowed everyone down." God, why the fuck did he feel like crying. Why was he so fucking weak?
When Kirishima spoke again, his voice was softer, "You arm. Is it broken too? Or?"
Bakugou let out a weak laugh that sounded more like a groan, "I don't know. It doesn't feel like it is. It just feels wrong," he closed his eyes tightly, "Hurts. The shoulder anyway, the arm itself it just... numb at this point..,”
Kirishima took on a more serious tone, "Let me take a look at it. I might know what's wrong," he started grabbing a few sticks that laid nearby, "I did some brief medical training during my internship. It's risky, but light these on fire real quick so I can get a better look."
Doing what he was told, Bakugou put his hand over the twigs and with nothing more than a small pop, they were ablaze. Kirishima got a good look at his face, and his smile fell, "Damn, you look like shit, man."
"Shut the fuck up, shitty hair."
Kirishima started working the sleeve of Bakugou's shirt up to get a better look at his shoulder. Bakugou bit his lip, trying to keep any embarrassing noises at bay as Kirishima laid his hand on the injured joint; although he wasn't all that successful as a few pained whimpers got through. As soon as they left his throat, Bakugou wanted to punch himself directly in his fucking face.
"Shit."
"What?"
Kirishima stomped out the fire desperatley, "I was right. Your shoulder is dislocated. It needs to be put back in place. Like, now."
"Fuck no," Bakugou paled, "That's not fucking happening."
"Do you want to keep your arm or not?" Kirishima asked him harshly, but it was more deserpate than bitter, "Numbness is a bad sign, so if you want the nerves to keep dying, you can continue being stubborn - or you can let me put it back in place and hopefully be able to use your arm in the future."
Fuck. Fuck! Bakugou sighed in defeat, "Okay. Fine. Just get it over with."
Kirishima sat him up a bit, one hardened hand was placed behind the shoulder, and the other rested painfully on the out of place bone, "It's easier than you see in movies, I promise. But... it's going to hurt. You have to try and keep quiet. I know it's easier said than done, but if the villains find us like this while you're injured..." He trailed off.
Bakugou knew. It wouldn't be good. He wouldn't be able to hold him own. He'd get in the way. He'd be useless. Useless..., "I'm not a weakling like you, I can take it. Just do it already, asshole."
The grip on the bone tightened, and Bakugou bristled, gritting his teeth, "Ready?" Bakugou nodded.
With a rough push, and a paralyzing POP! of the bone realigning into the socket, Bakugou's eyes went wide in pain. It was absolute agony. Sharp, hot, stabbing, electric. Oh god, it hurt so fucking bad. A strangled scream rose up his throat but was cut off by Kirishima slapping a hand over his mouth, and cradling his head, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. Please be quiet. It's okay. It's over. It's okay now. I'm sorry."
Bakugou dug his fingers roughly into the dirt below him; pain was the only thing he could feel. Tears leaked through his scrunched eyed and Bakugou realized, 'Oh fuck, I'm gonna be sick'. He slapped his friend's hand away from the mouth and tuned his head to the side to gag wetly onto the ground, bringing up thin streams of his meager dinner that night along with the burn of stomach acid and bile.
The sharp pain in his shoulder was starting to receded a bit, only to be replaced with the knife in his side that the muscles around his broken ribs contracting as he retched weakly. Bakugou let out a pathetic whimper before collapsing forwards into Kirishima. The later let out a noise of surprise, and Bakugou's face burned with embarrassment. This was so out of character; so pathetic. Weak. Pathetic.
Kirishima ran his hands through Bakugou's hair, "I'm so sorry, Bakugou." He was exhausted. Whatever adrenaline Bakugou's body was desperately holding onto, left him the moment his shoulder was relocated. For a moment, Bakugou thought he might fall asleep right then and there. The dirt below him and his friend's chest was suddenly so comfortable. Maybe he could just-
Suddenly there was a blast far away, and Bakugou looked up to see a mushroom cloud of dirt reach up towards the sky, birds flying away in a hurry to get the hell out of there.
"We need to get moving again," Kirishima informed, "I- I'm so sorry. But we have to get to the safe house."
Bakugou lifted his head up, wiping away stray tears and the vomit that still clung to his chin, "Don't be, 's fine. I'm fine." He tried standing up, but as soon as Bakugou's feet was underneath him again, they buckled and he was sent back towards the ground.
Kirishima grabbed him before he fell back down completely, helping to steady himself, "Woah, there buddy. It's okay."
Weakly, Bakugou slapped away the hands on him as soon as he felt that he was stable enough to stand without help, "I said I was fine, dammit," his retort barely had any bite to it, instead it sounded like an exhausted sigh. The worst thing was that the feeling was starting to return back to Bakugou's arm, the blood returning back to the limb. The numbness was gone, and it just started hurting again; throbbing in time with his jostled ribs. Bakugou tried to keep his breathing low and shallow as to not aggravate his side anymore, but he wasn't very successful, "Alright... let's go."
Kirishima's POV
Bakugou was in bad shape. Kirishima cast a glance over at his friend, and even in the dimness of the moon's light it was easy to see how pale his tan skin was, how sweat glistened off of it and stuck his spiky hair to his forehead. Not only that, but Bakugou was barely keeping up any kind of fast pace - but Kirishima expected that; the fiery blonde was clearly exhausted.
He broke the silence, "We'll reach the safe house soon, I promise." It was an empty promise, and Kirishima had a hunch that Bakugou knew that as well; they still weren't even sure they were going in the right direction, and they were only going at a fraction of the pace they had been holding up earlier. The other classmates had probably already made it to the safe house. Kirishima hoped, anyway. That would mean that the other pro heroes were on their way.
Another explosion sounded off in the distance, and the blonde picked up his speed a bit, and Kirishima matched it. Ever since they took off again after relocating Bakugou's shoulder, Kirishima wasn't working up a sweat at all, but Bakugou's breathing was so labored, and it seemed extremely painful. Briefly, Kirishima remembered the time he cracked a rib as a kid doing something stupid - and it still hurt like a bitch even after the pain killers; he didn't even want to imagine what Bakugou was feeling. That mixed with the agony of a dislocated shoulder? Kirishima shivered at the thought, thinking, 'Nope, no thank you.'
Caught up in his thoughts, Kirishima hadn't noticed that Bakugou started lagging behind him again. He turned his head back just in time to see Bakugou, who's eyes were closed, his face scrunched up in pain, clip his bad shoulder on a nearby tree.
A hoarse yelp rang out through the air as Bakugou was sent to the ground, curling in on himself, hands gripping his left shoulder so hard it looked like his finger nails were going to start piercing the skin, "Bakugou!" Kirishima rushed over, wincing himself at just the thought of it, "Hey, buddy, you alright?" His hands anxiously hovered over his friend, not sure what he could do to make it better, to help ease the pain.
"M' fine..." Bakugou breathed into the dirt covered ground beneath him "M' fine, just... give me a moment."
Kirishima nodded, "Of course, buddy." He kneeled there for what felt like forever, just watching Bakugou writhe in pain. Kirishima couldn't get over how out of character for the blonde; he almost never showed signs of discomfort. It seemed like it was was beyond him; almost like he didn't have any pain receptors. Kirishima took a moment to actually feel glad they got split up together, knowing that Bakugou would probably just had continued hiding his injuries otherwise. It seemed you'd really had to push this kid before he would break down and admit something was wrong.
Finally, Bakugou's whimpers and desperate gasps died down, and his breathing evened out a bit, "Better?"
"Yeah," it was a lie that they both knew.
"Alright," Kirishima pulled Bakugou's good arm up and over his shoulder, "Up we go."
At this point, Bakugou was nothing more than a dead weight. His feet were barely moving, and it was more like Kirishima was just dragging him along. God, he prayed that they didn't run into Shigaraki again, or any of the other villains for that matter. Things were bad; terrible even.
Suddenly another noise rang out through the stagnant night air, but this one was different. A small shot, like the firing of a gun. Both boys looked up the direction of the sound and saw a blast of light shoot upwards towards the sky before slowly dying out. A flare! Oh thank god. It wasn't that far away from them, a little bit to the left and about another mile out. Kirishima smiled and turned to Bakugou, "Look! It's a signal. The others made it just fine."
Bakugou let out a weak smile, "G-Guess the others aren't so fucking useless after all."
Kirishima let out a chuckle, glad to see the blonde was still his usual asshole self, but the laugh cut off abruptly as he watched Bakugou's eyes roll backwards, and he collapsed forwards, "Bakugou!" The only thing that kept his friend from falling flat on his face was the arm that was still draped around Kirishima's shoulder. Shit, shit, shit.
In a moment of panic, Kirishima scooped Bakugou up into his arms bridal style and started rushing towards the direction of the flare. Looking down, he took a little solace in the fact that his friend's face was smooth and calm, no longer scrunched in pain and blanketed with exhaustion; but he desperately needed help, and fast.
"Just a little longer, Bakugou," Kirishima spoke to the unconscious form in his arms, "I told you we were gonna be there soon. I promised.”
#whumtober#i can't fucking write for shit but i couldn't help myself#katwrites#katdraws#bnha#fic#art#injury#blood#dislocation#slight emeto#just lemme throw this fic and run tbh#the xanax is gonna wear off and im gonna read this and just die inside i can feel it
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What if Death Note was shown to us from L's perspective?
Imagine a version of Death Note where we the audience didn't know with certainty that Light is Kira. Could we fully trust L's deduction if we weren't shown Light's actions or given access to Light's thoughts?
We'd have to figure it out slowly, as L does. And I'd think the story would make us doubt L's theory during many points. This might sound strange but hear me out. In the actual story, we know Light is Kira, as we follow his point-of-view, and therefor it feels silly when the task force denies something that seems so glaringly obvious to us.
But when you really think about it, from their perspective- there are many holes in L's theory, and to believe that Light is Kira, they'd have to blindly believe what is essentially mostly a hunch of their (self-admitted) stubborn, childish boss who hates losing and being wrong. No wonder they aren't completely onboard.
In short, it would have not only been different viewing experience, but more importantly- a different emotional experience.
Had the story been told this way, I think it would have worked better as a mystery thriller, and in my opinion, been waaay more chilling to watch.
Though, I do think the story would lose a lot of its appeal and entertainment value. It definately wouldn't have been nearly as popular, that's for sure. So I'm not saying it would have been better at all, I don't even think that! But it would have been different and interesting in its own way.
So lets talk about how the plot would unravel had our point-of-view character been switched from Light to L:
Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, criminals all over the world start dying, getting mysterious heart attacks. Nobody knows the cause, who is behind this if anyone at all. Perhaps it is some sort of divine punishment.
L, the world's greatest detective, and our protagonist/pov-character, starts investigating immediately. It's been awhile since he was this interested in solving a case. We would learn that L isn't someone invested in justice from the getgo. To him, this atrocious act of mass murder is an exciting challenge to solve. We would get non-stop insight into his internal thoughts on everything. Learn that L is a childish person, a very stubborn man that hates losing and being wrong. We'd also see how willing he is to go against basic human decency and moral code in the persuit of his investigation from the get-go.
I cannot stress how different emotionally it would have been to watch L, essentially go into a seemingly unsolvable case blind. And bit by bit, get a clearer picture of what's happening. Scenes like the Lind L. Tailor TV stunt or the To-Oh Entrance Ceramony would have been chilling, had we been following his perspective.
Additionally, we can goof on the taskforce for not picking up the fact Light is obviously Kira, but from their perspective, it does seem a little sketchy and absurd. Light is a 17-18 year old college student by the time L starts suspecting him. By everyone's accounts, he's a hard working, extremely intelligent, upstanding, polite and friendly young man. A good son, brother, student and friend.
But L has a hunch this young man in specific is Kira. Can he prove it? Well there's weight to his theory. Light often seems to be in the center of several key events pertaining to the investigation. His father works on the task force for the case, the fiancee of the FBI agent who was investigating him seems to have gone completely missing. He is also perfect. Too perfect, he almost doesn't seem real.
But is this really enough? L from the getgo seems immedietly drawn into this idea that Light is Kira, as soon as he lays his eyes on him. As said before, L hates being wrong and is known to be stubborn. Everyone around him is telling him he's being absurd.
We the audience would obviously be on L's side, don't get me wrong. L is the greatest detective who never failed to solve a case, besides we have no other useful suspects besides Light.
But what would happen when there'd seemingly be holes in L's theory? When Light was being monitored on camera in his house, he was doing homework and not watching TV while criminals who's names and faces were broadcasted started dying. If Light is Kira, how is he able to do something like that? In canon, L never learned how Light pulled this trick off, therefor, had we been watching this from L's point-of-view, we wouldn't have known either.
Thankfully then Misa would appear, and once we learn that her DNA is on the tapes sent by the second Kira, this would strengthen our hunch that L is right.
But then Light would even turn himself in, saying that "maybe I'm Kira but unaware of it", and the solitary confinement would begin. After a few days, this young man starts panicking and saying he must have made a mistake and that he is clearly not Kira. He seems incredibly genuine, even L is taken aback.
A little bit into solitary confinement, criminals start dying again. But L still refuses to let Light and Misa go. L imprisoned two teenagers, one of whom has barely any proof he has any connection to Kira, and the other is detained in a questionable way, making her scared and believe a perverted stalker has kidnapped her. All this, while L is still insisting to keep them confined against all reason. Only allowing the confinement to end if Light's father pretends to shoot him, just so L can test out his theory.
In short, L would be extremely unlikable during so many points in the story. The only reason why many ppl currently can't process the fact that L is a very immoral character, is due to us knowing that Light is guilty. But had the story been told like this, we'd have to consider the possibility that L could be wrong, and that he's essentially traumatizing two innocent young ppl over nothing.
During the Yotsuba arc, we finally get to see what Light is like. And it appears people's descriptions of him were right. He's an upstanding, caring young man with a strong moral compass and sense of justice.
He's been put through hell and back, 50 days of solitary confinement, having to live through the horror of having his own father pretend to shoot him and now being chained 24/7 to the same detective who made him go through all that. And he is still doing his best to be being patient and understanding. While L is moping over the fact his deduction could be wrong. No, actually he's moping over the fact that he has no way of proving his deduction is right, and is refusing to let go of his innitial theory, even though people are dying!
Throughout the arc, L and Light interract and Light consistently has the moral highground. And by the time the Yotsuba group appears and is comfirmed to have involvement with Kira in some way, I do think the audience would start genuienly doubting L.
Perhaps Light really was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps everything really had just been a coincidence and Light really was an innocent young man who didn't deserve to go through any of this.
When Higuchi is caught, I think it really would have felt like a triumphant moment.
I know that L lied through his teeth when he called Light his best friend. I do not think he considers Light a friend. But he definately considers Light someone he respects in many ways, both on an intellectual level but also personal intrigue. Light always intrigued L, from the moment the man heard him speak.
I don't think L doubted his hunch that Light is Kira for a second. I also don't think L wanted Light to be anything but Kira.
But I do think L (at least anime L), felt like he lost something when Light reverted back to Kira.
Light was never his friend, but he could have been. Losing a human connection you had that could have potentially become a real genuine friendship with someone you relate to, find interesting and consider your equal, would be upsetting to anyone. (Don't get me wrong though, if Light wasn't Kira, L would have thrown a pissy-fit, but two things can be true at once) I know L is a person who doesn't crave or desire emotional connections or any connections really, but he's still a person at the end of the day.
Finally they uncover the murder weapon. A Death Note, a small black notebook that can apparently kill people. After L gets hold of it, he sees the monster attached to the notebook, a shinigami. They are real after all.
Finally, Light gets his hands on it. And screams louder than anyone else.
And in that moment, L realized that Light is once again Kira.
Ok, I know the manga and anime diverge during episode 25. The anime adds a lot more extra content to the story that wasn't present in the manga. But I adore episode 25 (it's just a hauntingly beautiful episode, I love how it's directed, even if it's clearly different from the rest of the show), so I will go with what happens in the anime version.
Kira is back.
There's only two things that can happen from here.
Either Light is going to be arrested, or L is going to die.
L is acting irrationally this episode. Perhaps he's afraid to die. Perhaps he's afraid of what will happen when Light is arrested, and what emotions that might stir in the detective. Either option is scary on its own. His ears are ringing from the bell. A bell only he is able to hear it seems.
Light finds him on the rooftop in the rain. In a last ditch attempt to form any sort of human connection, L rambles to him nonsensically, finally asking Light if he's capable of being truthful.
Light lies again. He always lies. L smiles to that. They are both lying monsters.
They go inside to wipe themselves clean. And have a suprisingly gentle, human moment. We don't know what's going through their minds, just like in the original. But this care and tenderness shown between them, we can buy it being genuine.
Perhaps Light really isn't Kira. Maybe L's paranoia and suspicion have rubbed off on us.
The moment is interrupted when Watari calls L informing him that the plans to test out the Death Note have been made. If this is done, there's a possibility Light's innocence will once again be called into question.
L announces his plan in front of the taskforce.
And suddenly everything goes red. L is calling out to Watari, not able to reach him as the old man is withering in pain.
In an instant, all the computer screens around them change, spelling out the words: "ALL DATA DELETION".
Watari is dead.
L tries to give out orders and suddenly a sharp pain pierces his chest. He drops the spoon he's been using to eat with, as he falls from his chair.
Light catches him, gently holding him in his arms as L stares into the young man's face.
A face that distorts into a mocking sadistic grin.
All this time. He had been right. He was right all along.
His eyes close and the show ends.
#(basically my fanfiction of how I think experiencing the plot would have felt if we switched POVs)#death note#l lawliet#light yagami#💬 katposts#✒️ katwrites
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Massive confession: I probably have 80 ~ 100k words left of LTRFWTM, but I wanna write some of Ricktus and Surgey's backstory during their time on the Verdant Harbinger, before the Council of Ricks had them abduct B-526 off his timeline.
ESPECIALLY that silly little story behind how Ricktus came to be named Ricktus:
Q-316: So when I sign up for this Citadel business, I need a nickname on the forms, right?
Surgey: Uh huh.
Q-316: And this will never have any significance or bearing on my career?
Surgey: ◕‿◕ no
Q-316: OK. *signs off on it*
Surgey: *shitty laughter for the next 100 years*
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You Better Run
Chapter 1 Read on AO3
Summary: Daniel Howell is a trained assassin, he'll take on any job as long as it:
A) Isn't a child
B) Isn't his family/friends
But his job description didn't cover what to do with those his victims left behind. Falling in love was never part of the plan.After all, it is a bit unprofessional to fall for a victim's boyfriend, even if he is rather cute.
Warnings: It’s an assassin AU, so naturally there’s going to be some blood and violence, please don’t read if its going to be an issue for you. (More tags on AO3)
Daniel Howell, a supposedly normal 27 year old British guy, wasn't a very open person. His society was one dependent on hierarchy, it was easier for him to keep his mouth shut and go with whatever came his way. People didn't bother him unless they really needed to, he wasn't all that close to his family, and his work was entirely solo. To anyone who asked what he did to earn such a luxurious living - chandeliers, crystal glasses, his white grand piano that took up most of the lounge, and his charmeuse bath robe, were all examples of things he owned - would get a shrug, at a push he'd tell them he was an accountant for some of the richest people in the country. In the 8 years he'd been in the job he did, no one had ever proved him wrong, and he hoped that wouldn't change.
No, he wasn't an accountant, he had no idea what accountants even did, but he couldn't let anyone hear about his actual job. For one: he didn't even go by Daniel Howell. It was his birthname, the name his parents gave him before they had another kid and pushed him to the sidelines.
His 'work' identity - The Crimson Whisper - made people shake, vomit and pass out in terror, often creating an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. It was more than uncontrolled fright people felt at the name, it was an emotion beyond human comprehension.
Daniel Howell, The Crimson Whisper, was a ruthless killer. The rich employed him to assassinate anyone they wanted, paying horrifically high prices for the deed to be done quickly, and to assure that their names weren't affiliated with the killing. There were a few assassins hanging around the streets, but their work was sloppy and they preferred to let their name be known. Daniel had never given the authorities anything to identify him with, hushed street talk had conjured up The Crimson Whisper because no one ever heard the victims of him cry out. No one heard him either, he was completely and utterly silent apart from when he was discussing work. He had to bite back remarks and laughter when people's eyes rounded at the sound of his assassin name, but over the years it had gotten much easier. The strange thing about him was that no one even suspected that the quietest man among them was up to anything sinister.
It was December when Daniel let his eye off the ball.
All of the people that required his assistance had to wait under a very precise tree in the small forest land by Daniel's apartment, it was the tallest oak tree and it hid his figure in the shadows. It was back alley talk that gave people the place to find him, no one would dare hand him to the police in fear he'd tell all their secrets. The payment for each person Dan had to take care of was determined by the length of time he had, how long he had to go, and how risky it was, but everyone had to tell him a secret. People would do anything to protect their most dreaded secret.
Dan was at the top of his game before a man turned up under the tree on December 1st. He was wrapped in a moth-bitten, stained cloth and his body hunched over. It was raining, the wind was making it exceptionally eerie to be so deep in the forest at midnight; everything was perfect in Dan's eyes.
The man's face was shadowed over, but the darkness made Dan unable to decipher anything else about him, all he knew was that he wasn't his usual customer.
"Excuse me, you're the assassin, correct?" Shockingly, his voice wasn't of an old man, possibly middle aged. Looks really were deceiving.
"That would be me." His voice was intentionally guttural, unidentifiable if someone spoke to him during the day.
"I've saved up for a year, there's this woman who's... She's just bad."
"I'll need a proper reason."
"She's a fraud, she dresses up and takes money from people. Her boyfriend has no idea what she does behind his back, but she burgles, cheats, and takes people for granted. She robbed my wife, she's in her 60's and the poor woman was scared to death!" The man's voice was rising as he spoke, the resentment for the girl becoming so out of hand.
"What's her name?"
"Harriet Turner."
Dan knew her. When he was starting out as an assassin, she was being trained by the same person he was. They'd been sent after the same person and she'd nearly pushed him off the ledge he was standing on, but that was when he bothered hiding his face. She didn't know anything about him, but he'd read about her. She must've hung up the bloodied robes for a civilian life, or maybe not according to the man standing in front of Dan.
"When do you need me to do it?"
"Before Christmas, preferably before 2 weeks have passed. Just get it done."
"You know I'll need all the money you saved, it's Christmas after all, and a secret."
"My name is Micheal Darker and I used to excessively gamble." And then he threw a pouch of rolled up notes on the floor in front of Dan, then walked away. The quick appointments were always the best, the risks were low and Dan could get back to just being Dan - he didn't have to struggle with the weight of his heavy duty clothing.
While the pay was outstanding, the conditions weren't great. He was to burrow into black clothes with a protective layer over his torso in case anyone tried to fight back. No one ever did. Descriptions of him had travelled like wildfire, vague ones that couldn't identify him in the slightest, so a dark figure standing in someone's room at night was a give away. They just gave up. It was almost amusing how many people Dan had immolated that just gave themselves to him; pathetic really. When he was busy it was torture, 3 people to dispatch of overnight meant a mad chase around the city to all the places they'd be, he also had to keep up his standard of work. Any mess that didn't need to be made was an imaginary strike against him. However much the busy nights dragged on, the slow times were even worse - he'd constantly be checking the thousands of pounds he'd saved up in case his services weren't needed anymore. Foolish to think that, he always had a steady flow of customers from all around, sometimes people were too wrapped up in themselves to need him.
Research. That was the first step Dan took. He'd try and get as much information he could about the people he was going after, and social media sites were one of the best advantages. He joined it and added everyone that appeared so it wouldn't look suspicious if he needed it later on, but most people had public profiles. He spent hours researching and taking notes of things that were useful to know. For instance, if someone went out every Friday night he would hang around until they were alone to strike. Most of it was common sense, the skill came with leaving no evidence of him being there.
Harriet, as he thought, had given up her assassin lifestyle. She had a boyfriend called Philip Lester and was ostracised from the majority of her family. She didn't seem to like Phil that much, her posts were a lot about her being with friends and never with him. They went out to a bar each and every night; her income came from her boyfriend and serving in a restaurant; and she loved to get drunk. Phil was away on a business trip, but that was only for the weekend, and it was Friday - the day he left. Meaning that, if Dan was quick, he'd catch Harriet on the Saturday night, leaving her to whoever found her. That would probably be Phil. He wished there was a picture of the man, it would make his job a lot easier, but he posted sparingly so it wasn't a good chance.
There were no clients on the Friday night, so Dan was able to collapse into his silk sheets with a glass of wine in his hand. If he had a night to himself he'd take a little self care, and he'd sort things out for himself, the nights would end with a large class of wine and a bar of chocolate, all while he watched one of the latest movies on his flat screen TV. It was all very laid back, but it took his mind off of the goal he had for the next night, and the fact that he probably wouldn't be sleeping.
Nonetheless, it was his job. Like it or not, he made his living doing this and he was the best at it. Other assassins had groups of friends that would sell them in when asked by police, but he never dared trust anyone, assassin or not, he worked alone. It was lonely sometimes, and he had a few acquaintances that he'd go out with, but none that he was close too. It had always been the same so it wasn't as if he missed anything from his past. He didn't have a relationship either, he slept around with girls in school, but other than that he never was bothered with it. He pushed any romantic feelings down, not that they were ever strong, it wouldn't tamper with his work that way.
It was 1 AM when Dan turned off his TV and settled himself to sleep, drifting off into a land where nothing bad could happen. That night, however, his dreams were full of screaming.
Run.
He just had to keep running. He was going after Harriet and they caught him, her dad caught him and everyone was after him. People yelled and threw things as he ran ahead of them, everyone was desperate to get their revenge. His parents were there too. 'This is why we preferred your brother.' His dad muttered, but it made no sense for him to have heard that above the noise of the mob that was after him.
He ran to a dead end.
No.
Stop.
Then he woke up with hands gripping sweat soaked sheets, a pounding heart, and a lack of breath. It wasn't real. The nightmares only got to him if it was the night before a risky task, but he wasn't frightened of getting caught. He could handle it, but the disappointment would be too much. His clients would be found out, they'd be slandered to no end, and his family would hate him even more than they already did. There were 2 consequences of being caught: prison time, or death. Dan would choose death, he wouldn't want to be sent down and have everyone know what he did, who he killed. Other assassins would pick at him because he always stole the limelight. In death there was nothing. It would be the only fair punishment for someone as bad as he was.
He knew that he should've been productive that day, that maybe he could pry more into Harriet's life to try and track her, it was just hard to do it. Usually he loved the snooping, it was pretty interesting, but other times it was too exhausting. Taking his chances was a huge risk, but he'd never been close to being caught before, so why would it matter now?
The TV made noise for itself as Dan slouched almost lifelessly in the chair. Sleep occasionally took over, but most of the hours passed with him staring into space. With it being winter he could set off to get his work done earlier, and he was best waiting around because he had no clue what time Harriet would inevitably crawl in drunk. It was funny, he never expected her to turn into a party girl, she was always so snobbish and uptight to what he thought.
'While other girls get dressed up, I get suited up.' Is something she'd always say before she killed people, he'd seen it in the papers. She wasn't that great at keeping her identity a secret.
At 6 PM it had gone dark, it was quite cold out so Dan's heavy torso protection gave some extra warmth. His suit was black and clung to his body so he could move efficiently. He guessed it looked like a gymnasts outfit, or the things that people wore backstage at a play - he was such a theatre nerd in school. He took back alley paths, the only life along them was intoxicated people, or people using heavy drugs, they wouldn't remember him by morning. A hood shielded his face, especially his eyes, so even if someone was aware enough to notice him, they wouldn't get in his way and wouldn't be able to describe him. He was sure he would've gotten caught, but the police didn't dare patrol there, and there were quite a few people dressed similar.
The stone pavement was freezing, and homeless people were huddled up under cardboard and the occasional sheet. Dan felt slightly sorry for them, he had such an admirable life and they ad next to nothing. If he gave away his money he risked them telling the police that he had extraordinary amounts stashed away. He did ask some of them what they needed if it was during the day, then he'd dash to a store and get them a few things. Every single one of them was grateful for it. Contrary to belief, he was sympathetic to people who deserved it, but he could never let it get in the way of his work.
Harriet's apartment wasn't high up, it was actually on the first floor. It was shocking how many people left their spare keys buried around the place, even more so when that person was an ex-assassin. She'd left her key under a rock under the front window. It really was a bright idea.
Dan didn't think twice about going in and unlocking the door, the CCTV camera was in shards and no one was around, no one was stupid enough to be outside in this apart from Harriet and her friends. Dan didn't even know if she was out partying that night, all he knew was Harriet wasn't in and he had to wait for her to come back in the darkness. He wished he could play on his phone, or do something, but it was trackable so it had to be left in his apartment.
It was cold in the apartment, and the only sound was the clicking of the clock that Dan couldn't risk getting up to look at. Seconds went by. Those turned to minutes, Those turned to hours. It was boring.
But it didn't last that long.
He'd locked the door on his way in, so the familiar sound of someone's key sliding into the lock made Dan's mind more alert than it had been. He listened hard, there were no voices, a giveaway that Harriet was alone.
He peered up over the arm of the couch he was sitting by, she was walking all over the place and spluttering with meaningless laughter as she did it. Drunk. She'd be so easy to take out, it was like an early Christmas gift for Dan, but she knew all the tricks of the trade. He just hoped she was too far gone to realise what was happening. She walked into another room, and Dan followed after her, his feet light on the carpet. The bedroom was grand, it was obvious that her boyfriend, Philip, had no say in what it looked like. Her clothes occupied every free surface, there was no sign of him apart from a pair of black converse shoes. It was pitiful, Dan felt sorry for a man he'd never met and never would meet.
Harriet had her back to Dan, she was messing in a box that was on the end of her bed. Perfect.
Two steps forward was all it took, and she didn't even realise he was there. A knife with no detail was out of its sheath within milliseconds, then Dan took a deep breath in. His one gloved hand wrapped around Harriet and covered her mouth while the other plunged the knife into her back. He knew the exact spots he needed to cut through, but the feeling of the knife sinking through flesh was never pleasant for him to feel. She didn't fight him, but he felt her going weaker in his grasp. He pulled the knife out again, letting the wound bleed out. Harriet became more of a dead weight as the time went by, her white dress staining red as blood trickled out. Her hand did go to the point where it was bleeding in a feeble attempt to stop it, or maybe it was just the realisation. Either way, it didn't work. When Dan brought his arm from around her, she crumpled to the floor. Her chest wasn't rising or falling. It was hard to check her pulse with gloves on, but it was either nonexistent or very faint. She was a goner either way.
There was no remorse in Dan's eyes when he looked at Harriet. He couldn't afford it. As usual, he left through the front door and left it as she did, the keys hanging and door unlocked. The spare key was placed back under the rock. Then it was only to get home, a steady walk down the back alleys would more than work, he could hide in the corners and get home without anyone noticing him. It was easy.
#phan#phanfiction#phan angst#dnp#dan and phil#phandom#dan howell#phil lester#dan and phil angst#assassin AU#phanfic#katwrites
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Rescue Mission by katwriting
Chapters: One-Shot
Genre: Canon AU
Length: 1K to 5K
Rating: General Audience
Secondary Characters: Azazel, Catarina Loss, Clary Fray, Imogen Herondale, Jace Wayland, Simon Lewis, Valentine Morgenstern
Secondary Pairings: None
Themes: 2x11, 2x12, Alec POV, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Hurt & Comfort, Injured Magnus, Injury, Magnus POV, Physical Abuse
Summary:
2x11 reaction fic. As the Inquisitor won't let Magnus go, Alec has to take matters in his own hands.
“Alec, where are we going?”, Magnus whispered, now really getting nervous, although he technically knew that Alec would never hurt him.
“To switch you back, what were you thinking?”, Alec responded, nervously staring at the closing elevator doors and only relaxing a bit when the car began to move upwards.
#malec fic rec#a: katwriting#one shot#canon au#1k to 5k#rated g#sp: none#2x11#2x12#alec pov#angst#emotional and psychological abuse#established relationship#hurt and comfort#injured magnus#injury#magnus pov#physical abuse#queue#countdown to season 3
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jughead jones. (katwrites' version.)
#riverdale#jughead jones#......she deleted the tweet but i have the discord sc#just way too much meme potential for me to let it go#imagine jughead bursting into olivia rodrigo's songs#anti barchie#just in case
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