#also i love that henry knows alex loves to be wound up

[yrsonpurpose]

Alex & Henry ± Henry insulting Alex (affectionately)

#rwrb #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #usersteen #userveronika #usermaloune #userlang #usernuria #userninz #chrissiewatts #mine* #every good relationship need This #like if you cant take the piss out of each other then why are you here :D #also i love that henry knows alex loves to be wound up #the idea of henry and pez pining over henry and june is sooooo aljdslk #i wanna see that!!!!!! #the romantic anxiety of it all

[radiant-reid]

Enduring

Summary: Spencer's wife gives birth almost as soon as he's back after getting shot in Texas, and he's very grateful.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader ( fluff mostly)

Content Warning: pregnancy, labor but it's not descriptive,

Word Count: 2.7k

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As soon as Spencer was shot in Texas, Hotch made a rule: no one can tell Y/n. Initially, JJ disagreed vocally. She knew Y/n would call when she woke up in DC, and as much as the thought terrified her, those calls could all go unanswered if he didn't make it.

They both had the mutual, painful experience of having someone they loved in a life-threatening situation and could agree that knowing and not being able to do something was worse than not knowing.

JJ couldn't imagine not being able to be apart of the effort to find Will when he had been shot in the bank, use her profiling skills and then physical combat skill to make sure her family was safe. Hotch also had the experience of a wife on bed rest who struggled to stay resting even when he was safe.

One thing they could all agree on was that Y/n would come to Briscoe county if she knew Spencer was in surgery. Even if Matt Cruz and Penelope had to carry her off the jet because she can't fly, she would drive the twenty-four straight hours to see him.

So Alex and JJ end up in the ER, knees bouncing up and down with nervousness. "I should have been me," Alex confesses, staring down at her hands.

"It could have been any of us." JJ agrees, misreading Alex's blame on herself.

"He pushed me out of the way." She says guiltily. It was eating at her since she pressed so tightly on his wound that she thought it would cause a bruise, hoping to keep enough blood to keep him conscious. "JJ, what if he doesn't make it?"

JJ rests her hand on Alex's thigh. "He'll be okay." She assures her, saying it for herself just as much as she's saying it for Alex. "They're about to have a baby. He'll be fighting for that."

Alex doesn't voice her worries about having to call Y/n and tell her that her husband is dead. Knowing that phone call is coming is probably in the back of Y/n's mind like it is hers, both having husbands with dangerous jobs. Even if it's anticipated, her life will never be the same, and Alex's guilt will never go away.

"You know he told me he doesn't think he's going to be a good enough dad?" Alex recalls their conversation a month prior.

JJ scoffs, shaking her head. "He couldn't be more wrong about that."

"Yeah, that's what I told him." She says. "Have you seen the ultrasound picture in his wallet?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he shows everyone that." JJ jokes, both of them chuckling. "And he kisses it every night."

Talking about him being okay eases the tension hospital waiting rooms bring. "He's not just going to be a good dad, he's going to be a great one." She settles.

The waiting seems to blur together as it so often does in situations with very little idleness, and it doesn't feel like a lot of time has passed before his name is called, and Alex is standing to hear his fate.

It's good news, exactly the news she and everyone else was hoping for. She's never felt more relief in her life than when she calls JJ, and says it aloud.

Alex and Penelope occupy his hospital room while he's still out from the anesthetic. With herself from Quantico, Penelope brought the most recent ultrasound from his desk and some little figurines, setting them up in front of him.

"Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" Alex asks, sitting in a chair across from Penelope. "The baby?" Now that neither of them feels like their worry is sucking the air out of them, it's more comfortable to talk about him.

Spencer and Y/n had chosen not to find out, figuring it was one of the few good surprises in life, and they didn't need anything different depending on the sex of the baby.

"Girl," Penelope answers before justifying. "But maybe that's just what I want. We've got Henry and Jack, so we need a little girl."

"That's what Spencer thinks, too," Alex remembers. It had taken a little while to get him to confess to it after all of his insisting that he just wanted a healthy baby

Penelope doesn't get the chance to ask Alex what she thinks before someone else is speaking. "What do I think?"

Their eyes quickly snap to Spencer, and another wave of relief rushes over both of them, overjoyed that he hadn't suffered from any brain damage.

"Hey, you," Alex says softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive." He replies, mostly feeling so energized because of the intense throbbing in his neck.

"That, we are very grateful for," Penelope says, squeezing his hand.

He's still groggy, adjusting to the light in the room. "Y/n's not here, is she?" He asks, but it's not disappointment in his tone, it's worry.

"No," Alex assures him. "She doesn't know."

"Good." Spencer agrees with Hotch's reasoning unknowingly. "She has to be on bed rest, and she has to keep her cortisol low."

Worrying about her being okay is making his heart rate jump up, and the girls know they have to keep it down. "She's okay, I promise," Penelope assures him. "You need to rest and get better, so you're okay to fly home."

He nods, settling down a little more. "Alex, you should go back to help the team." He dismisses her when he hears her phone buzzing. "Thank you for being here."

She nods, squeezing his knee after she stands up. "Get some rest."

When she leaves, he turns back to Penelope. "Can I tell you something?"

She nods emphatically. "Always."

"We're having a boy." He informs her.

Her eyes light up as she smiles at him. "Spencer, that's amazing. Did you find out?"

He shakes his head. "No, I just know." Usually, his near-death dreams are memories of his childhood, but in this one, he was standing over a bassinet in their bedroom, looking at the most perfect little baby boy he'd ever seen. He had looked too much like Y/n for Spencer to be seeing a baby version of himself.

Penelope resists the urge to hug him, knowing he's far too injured, but she's in tears about it like he is. "I cannot wait to meet perfect baby Reid."

He nods in agreement. "Me, too. Let's hope she doesn't go into labor until I'm back." He chuckles about it, but there's evident concern that he won't make it back in time. If he wasn't in hospital, he could catch a commercial flight home if needed, but when he's also in the hospital, there's not going to be much he could do.

"You'll be back in time," Penelope assures him.

He holds onto that as things get more complicated with another person trying to kill him, and eventually, most of the force being in on the murders.

By the time the worst of it is over, it's dawn in DC, and Spencer calls when he knows she'll be awake. "Good morning." He says softly.

Y/n mutes the TV, although she wasn't really watching it. There's not much to do on bed rest while heavily pregnant. "Hey, busy last night?"

Spencer sighs, looking around the hospital room that Penelope had vacated to sign his release papers. "Something happened." He confesses.

She nervously bites her bottom lip, her heart already beating faster as she starts to stress. "Tell me quick, please."

Right, he should have known that didn't sound good. "I'm okay now, but I did get shot."

"Spencer Reid, you say that far too casually." She scolds. She knows that if she's hearing his voice, it can't be that bad. "Where?"

"My neck." He answers, figuring he'll leave the piece of information out about how close the bullet was to his carotid artery until he can monitor her blood pressure and pulse. "It's a tiny bandage as well."

Y/n knows he loves his job, and he wouldn't choose to do anything else in the world, but she does wish it was a little less dangerous. "Well, I hope you're coming home soon, so I can properly tell you off."

Spencer chuckles at the comment. "I'll be back by tonight. How are you? Staying in bed?"

"Yes." She says flatly, having been texted the question by him so many times. "I'm good, but I'll be better when you get home."

He feels the same way. "Just don't go into labor before then." He requests.

"I'm weeks away." She assures him, rubbing her hands over the bump. He feels differently, knows it deep down, but he's not going to worry her with his intuition.

"Okay, I should go, so I can sign my discharge papers." He decides, noticing Penelope at the door. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She replies. "Thanks for staying alive."

The jet doesn't leave Texas too late, but it'll be dark in DC by the time they get home. He's asleep almost as soon as he lays on the couch, a deep gut feeling telling him that he'll need it

Penelope keeps the secret about baby Reid to herself while Spencer sleeps, unsure of if he wants it known or not. When they were in the hospital, he looked so sure about it that she's sure of it now.

Before they can get in their cars and leave the airport, Spencer finds a moment alone with Hotch. "I need some time."

Hotch raises his eyebrows like he's asking if Spencer is serious. "I'm glad you're asking because it means I don't have to make it an order."

"Thank you," Spencer says, taking Hotch's offer of a handshake.

"Let us know when the baby comes, and we'd like photos, too," Hotch tells him

Spencer can't help but ask Alex about her slip-up in the car while she drives him home as the memories slowly come back to him. "Who's Ethan?"

"My son." She answers before going into the sad story about his death. Spencer's been around a lot of death, children's death as well, but it's terrifying when he's about to become a parent. "I think he would have been a lot like you." She confesses.

"Thank you." He says simply. For two people with a lot of words, it's enough.

Alex grabs his bag for him when they reach the Reids' apartment, and they walk slowly up the stairs. He knows something is bothering her, and he's guessed what. "Are you leaving?" He asks.

It catches her off guard like she forgot he's a profiler. "I am." She answers honestly.

It's easy for him to understand. At least as soon as he blacked out, he couldn't remember anything else. Alex had been the one trying to stop him from dying, and that responsibility, on top of how horrifying their job was, was enough.

"I'm happy for you," Spencer tells her before putting his key in the lock and opening the door.

Y/n practically jumps on him as soon as he's in the apartment, hugging him tightly but carefully. "Oh, my god. You're back, you're here, and you're okay." She exclaims. Seeing him mostly physically okay is better than hearing his voice on the phone.

"I am," Spencer assures her when he finally gets released from the hug. "You're meant to be in bed."

She hits him on the shoulder. "Don't start." She warns before she moves to hug Alex at the awkward angle she now has to hug people at thanks to massive baby Reid. "Thank you for bringing him home." She says appreciatively.

"Of course." Alex nods. She can't help smiling at how in love the two of them are, remembering almost two years ago when Spencer was worried about not being enough to be her husband. "I'll leave you two to it." She says, stepping backward to leave.

Spencer's not really a hugging type of person, but he jumps at the chance to hug her before she goes, thanking her again and then closing the door.

"We should go to bed." He tells Y/n, even though his hands on either side of her bump make it impossible for them to move.

"You scared the shit out of me, you know?" She tells him, frowning up at him.

He kisses her on the forehead softly before kissing her lips. "I know." He answers. "I was scared, too, before I blacked out. But I will always do everything in my power to come home to you." He assures her, each word with such emphasis and meaning. He looks down at her bump. "And you, sweet boy?"

"A boy?" She asks in surprise, his eyes focusing back on her. "Did you realize you're wrong and now you're jumping ship to the right side, Reid?"

He laughs with her. "Yes, I did change my mind, Reid." He retorts. "Now, did you eat?"

"I did. I cleaned the kitchen too. How many boxes of cereal do you really need?" Spencer's face is blank as he realizes what's happening, and she's concerned. "What's up?"

He knows it'll just stress her out to know how common a sign nesting is of labor, so he doesn't say anything. "Just counting how many boxes of cereal I have."

"Eleven." She answers for him. "Eight now, actually, because I was hungry."

He laughs softly before kissing her again. "Come on, let's go to bed." He guides her through the house with his hands on her hips, glancing around the apartment he was so fond of. The bassinet at the edge of the bed always makes him smile, knowing there's going to be a baby in there and soon if his intuition is right.

He tiptoes out of the bedroom once she's showering to put his laundry on, but he's interrupted before he can turn the machine on. It's his wife with a very uneasy look on her face, her skin paler than usual, like she's sick. "I think I'm in labor." She barely manages to get out, voice soft from her shock.

Spencer doesn't freeze or underperform. Silently, he thanks the universe once again, grateful he's alive and back in DC. He did expect it, but that only contributes slightly to his calm front. "Okay, just breathe for a second. I'll go get your bag, and we'll go to the hospital." He narrates to her, keeping his voice slow to calm her.

It's the second hospital he's been at in the last twenty-four hours, and he would much rather be the one in the hospital bed if it meant she wasn't in pain.

Even though he has barely slept in the last week, there's no way he would miss a moment. He's hyper-alert as he comforts her, refuses to take his hand off hers, and makes a few phone calls.

Some terribly long hours of labor later, they have a baby. It was excepted, obviously, something months in preparation, but it's still unreal.

He's loved the little baby for so long, and he didn't realize that love would amplify exponentially. "You look exactly like this when you sleep," Spencer tells her, looking into the clear bassinet and staring at a face that mirrored hers.

"Your nose, though." She tells him, glad about that fact.

"So perfect." He coos. His phone vibrates, but nothing can knock him out of the moment. "The team's here." He reports.

"Send them in." She directs him, knowing he's asking more than telling. "I just should have brought makeup."

He leans down to kiss her forehead. "You look gorgeous."

Hugs are shared when JJ, Will, Henry, Hotch, Jack, Penelope, Alex, Morgan, and Rossi walk in, smiles on all their faces. Spencer very gently picks up the baby, showing him to everyone. "This is Ethan."

He stays asleep as he gets past around to his aunts and uncles and shown to his cousins, who all awe at him. Spencer stands next to Alex while everyone else talks.

"He's perfect," Alex tells him, even though she knows he's thought it a million times.

"I hope you don't mind," Spencer says nervously. "His name, I mean."

She shakes her head. "It's perfect. Enduring."

Tell me what you think

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[anincompletelist]

happy wip wednesday! :D

ahhh I have been all over the place today, forgive me if I've missed anyone here! THANK YOU TO @nocoastposts @iboatedhere @kiwiana-writes @cricketnationrise @zwiazdziarka @inexplicablymine @ninzied @matherines @getmehighonmagic @heybuddy-drabbles FOR THE TAGS! and also to @magicandarchery @bigassbowlingballhead @getmehighonmagic @firenati0n for the tags for the last line of 2023/first line of 2024 tags! by the time I saw them I had no CLUE what they actually were because I wrote straight through the new year with RWRB playing in the background ksjhkjhd.

ALSO I made a patreon? (COMPLETELY FREE OF COURSE—do NOT select the paid tier!! i just can’t figure out how to delete it jsksjkd) to have a space to share snippets and other things that I write that don't get posted here or on ao3. I'm not sure how much I'll use it as of right now but I think it could be fun! slowly uploading some things I've written lately. we'll see! <3

trying to share some things I haven't had a chance to before, so here's a snippet from what is lovingly titled 'the train au' in my docs, though the train is actually a shockingly small plot point of the full fic sjhdksjhd.

+

Aaron’s eyes slide over to Henry and narrow. Henry shifts underneath the scrutiny, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Don’t do it, he thinks. He’s only here to help his mother and his sister. There’s no reason Aaron needs to go dredging up the past, ripping open old wounds that’d taken ages for Henry to poorly suture. 

And yet, that’s exactly what he does. 

“I also know a few rather unsavory things about the prince that I’m sure the family wouldn’t want coming into the light.” 

“Objection.” Alex is out of his seat so quickly that he goes blurry, jaw set and eyes blazing. It’s the most livid Henry’s ever heard him. 

The court room falls silent for a moment, and Henry scans everyone’s faces while he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. Aaron looks sickly pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smirk. He won’t be allowed to elaborate further, but the damage had already been done. Henry’s mother seems tense, and Bea looks like she might start crying, her knuckles white where she’s clutching the arm of her chair. 

Henry’s fairly certain that everyone in the room has an idea of what Aaron is referring to, but Bea more so than anyone else. She’d been there for all of it, when Henry began to figure things out and piece it all together, how difficult it was for him to be forced to hide it and what he’d done in reckless retaliation. She’d been the first person he told when things went wrong, always the first. 

The rest of the court room seems a bit restless, murmuring theories amongst themselves, glancing between Alex and Aaron to see which one will speak first. And Alex— Alex looks like he could kill someone. 

Henry can only blink, all too used to the concept of being damned to silence.

+

tags: @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @affectionatelyrs @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rockyroadkylers @firstsprinces @xthelastknownsurvivorx @whimsymanaged @priincebutt @songliili @duchessdepolignaca03 @leojfitz @user-anakin @anchoredarchangel @tinyarmedtrex @myheartalivewrites ALWAYS LOVE HEARING FROM YOU GUYS <3 (but no pressure of course)

SEE Y'ALL TOMORROW FOR ANOTHER BRIDESMAIDS CHAP! :D

xx

#wips #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince

[floating-in-the-blue]

Willex Red White & Royal Blue AU

So me being me, of course my brain has been toying with a Willex Red White & Royal Blue AU since becoming obsessed with the movie and the book but I don’t think I will actually write it because, though having some changes, it’d still be so close to rwarb that it wouldn’t be that exciting but I thought I’d share my ideas for it for Willex Wednesday this week and you guys can imagine the scenes for yourself without me having to write a whole long fic about it.

So. Long musings to follow (it helps if you know the book/movie but you don’t really need to if you’re just here for some fun willex au though there will be tons of spoilers of course). Also there be some smut here because these are two horny idiots for sure!

Also thanks to @merihn for looking it over and making sure that the changes I've introduced to the rwarb plot fit the new characters.

Okay, here we go.

On the American side we have Caleb as the president (yes, I know, it’s a man now but he would have so much fun being a politician and making everyone his bitch). 

Willie is his nephew who has been living with him since his own parents died in a car crash when he was like five. He’s not really that interested in politics per se though he supports the more liberal side of his uncle’s program. Generally though, he dislikes the whole publicity stuff and would be much happier just being an obscure kid skating around. He is, however, out as bisexual. I know that an important part of rwarb-book!Alex’s journey as a character is his discovery of being bisexual but I just cannot picture Willie not knowing he’s attracted to guys. Or being able to hide that. So he knows and the country knows. He mostly tries to stay out of trouble but he doesn’t always quite manage.

Rose Molina is Caleb’s Vice President (with Ray as her puppy husband who’s too nice for politics, really) and so Willie and Julie live together in the White House and are best friends. Julie’s other best friend is Flynn (they go to the same college?) so they mostly hang out as a trio.

Willie has been slightly into Prince Alexander from the British Royals since he was a teen, ever since seeing a poster of him in some teen magazine (because I love that bit from the book!!). Although I’ve also been toying with the idea of him discovering him much earlier and including him in his childhood games, ie. saving or being saved by Prince Alexander and stuff like that. Very innocent of course but I think it’d be cute.

But the first time he actually meets him at some official thing (Melbourne Climate Conference ;D) goes really poorly.

Switching over to the British side: Alex is of course our repressed English prince. If I actually wrote the thing it’d mean finding a bit of a new voice for him that’s a blend of jatp!Alex and rwarb!Henry but for this little headcanon thing, it doesn’t really matter all that much.

Alex’s grandfather is the king, his parents are both still alive and massive assholes and very overbearing. He has an older brother (let’s keep Philip) who is also an ass. And he used to have a sister but she died (switching up the rwarb trauma backstory wound but it makes more sense for me with canon jatp stating his parents were ‘not really cool’). His sister was the only one in the family he really got along with and trusted so now she’s dead he’s even more isolated. He is, naturally, gay as a maypole but of course he hides that because he has to maintain the traditional royal image and also because of anxiety.

Getting back to that first meeting of Alex and Willie: Alex basically falls in love/into attraction with Willie at first sight but also knows it is a VERY bad idea so he tries to keep as far away from him as possible. Also it’s shortly after his sister died and the Palace insists on parading him around so he’s just generally not in a good state and being a panicky prick, basically.

For Willie though, it reads as ‘of course the pretty prince is really just a stuck up elite and entitled white boy who’s a massive homophobe (and also maybe a racist).” An impression that is cemented afterwards because Alex keeps on avoiding him.

Since Willie isn’t that confrontational, I think he’d go about his rivalry a little differently than rwarb!Alex, so I just picture him and Julie, with Flynn’s invaluable help, starting to prank Alex whenever possible. Nothing too serious because he’s still a British prince and they can’t afford an international incident (hah!) but just in a subtle way that could almost be accidental. 

Alex does realise what’s going on but he’s almost relieved because if Willie dislikes him there’s less chance of bad things happening between them (ie kissing). So he plays along with the animosity and acts the petty prick around Willie so Willie will never ever become a danger to him and his hidden homosexuality.

And then, of course, they topple into a cake at a Royal wedding (Phillip’s) and suddenly have to play nice with each other. Maybe the whole cakecate is less Willie being confrontational and more they crash into the cake because maybe Willie wasn’t looking where he was going and stumbled and grabbed the nearest thing to stabilise himself (Alex) but they just both topple the cake in the progress. The end result, however, is the same: they’re on the floor, covered in cake, and the whole world gets to see and laugh and there is an international incident after all.

I’ve cast Aunt Victoria in Zahra’s role as campaign manager. Different vibe than in rwarb but I think her mixture of affection for the children and strictness could work really well here. I’m not sure if she’s actually Rose’s sister but she does have all the children call her Tia anyway. Couldn’t really find a match for Shaan in jatp canon so he stays as Alex’s equerry (aka personal assistant). They can totally have a love affair on the side as well. Good for you, Victoria!

Anyway, Willie gets sent over to London to do damage control and to pretend he and Alex have been best friends for ages. Willie does not look forward to it. Alex is getting slightly panicky but tells himself everything will be fine. Because it’s going to be totally fine, right? Sure …

They do the photo ops and interviews, hiding their animosity behind polite petty backstabbing, and then go to visit sick children in the hospital for a PR thing and then get shoved into a closet together at the perceived threat of a gunman (really just a kid bringing fireworks for a friend). I’ve cast Dante and Fuego as Willie’s secret service agents, btw.

So, closet time. Willie is not happy but Alex is now really having a panic attack so Willie helps him through it, because Alex may be a dick but panic attacks are no jokes. A little bonding experience but not the talk they have in rwarb.

Still, once Willie is back in the states he starts texting Alex to check up on him (I guess they officially swapped phone numbers for the whole ‘pretending to be friends’ thing) and they start talking.

Alex knows it’s a bad idea to get closer to Willie but Willie is very insistent and charming and hard to say no to so they talk more and more and Alex lets more and more of his real personality shine through and Willie is fascinated how different Alex, the guy in his phone, is to Prince Alexander. So far, it’s just a bit of fun for Willie, and he keeps the flirting light. But he loves the sarcasm and intelligence and honesty he gets to see from Alex.

Alex, of course, just falls deeper in love with him and suffers.

Also I think Willie is the only person really calling him “Alex” instead of “Alexander” aside from his sister (dead) and his best mates, Luke and Reggie (yes, that makes them British. Yes, I can’t really picture that either. Just go with it. Or maybe they’re American exchange students who stuck around. I’m sad to say they’re not all that important here so just go with whatever version you prefer). And I think that is not very helpful for Alex.

At Willie and Julie’s famous New Year Party, Alex is required to put in an appearance and things are going fine even though Alex has to struggle hard to hide how much he is in love with Willie. Flynn totally clocks it though. And Luke and Reggie already know of course (they were brought along as moral support and so they can meet the girls).

Since their friends helpfully ignore them and abscond, Alex and Willie talk a lot. Willie tries to get Alex to dance, but although Alex loves dancing, he doesn’t really do that in public so he’s a bit stiff and reluctant.

At the chime of midnight, though, things fall apart (how fairytale of them) because Alex watches Willie being kissed by random people, both girls and guys, and he flees the party tent, unable to handle it. Only Willie gets the absolutely wrong idea. Because he thinks that his first impression of Alex as a stuck up homophobe was the right one. That Alex went along with the texting and chatting only for as long as he wasn’t reminded of Willie’s queerness but the moment he sees him kissing a guy, it’s all back.

So he follows Alex, intent on confronting him but when he accuses Alex of being homophobic, out there in the snow, Alex just laughs a little hysterically and denies it (hello beloved squeaky voice). Willie doesn’t believe him and pushes and then Alex’s brain short circuits, he says “Okay” and he kisses him.

It has the desired effect of shutting Willie up but of course that kiss was exactly what Alex had tried to avoid so he flees once again. Now the whole continent.

Willie, on the other hand, calls in an emergency meeting with Julie and Flynn the next day (both of whom are very sad that Luke and Reggie disappeared along with the prince) to discuss what happened. Flynn immediately claps her hand and smugly declares that she called that, Julie is swept up in the romance of it until Flynn reminds everyone that “honey, princes aren’t allowed to be gay.”

Except Willie doesn’t want to accept that because now he’s been kissed he can’t stop thinking of Alex. Or rather, he realises that that has been the case for so long he can’t even remember when it started. And he definitely wants to be kissed again. And kiss back. And do other things to Alex.

Alex ignores all texts and calls though and drives Willie near mad but he does appear, as promised, at the state dinner thing as Willie’s guest some weeks later. He avoids Willie but Willie gets Dante to help him arrange a clandestine meeting in an adjacent room and while Alex steels himself to stammer his way through an awkward apology, Willie hardly lets him say anything at all before kissing the living daylights out of him. And Alex is utterly unable to resist Willie.

They get interrupted but Willie tells him to come to his room at midnight where he wants to do bad things to him.

Midnight comes and passes and Willie gets more and more antsy, worried he may have gotten everything wrong after all but maybe ten minutes later, there’s a hesitant knock at his door.

“You’re late” - “I know. I wasn’t sure if this wasn’t all a big mistake.” - “And now?” - “Now I know it’s a big mistake but I don’t seem able to care.”

Willie grins happily and pulls him inside and continues to kiss the living daylights out of Alex, who kisses him back with a mixture of reservation and desperation that Willie finds very intoxicating. Just like his responsiveness to Willie giving him a blowjob. Alex doesn’t return the favour but he does help him get off with his very nice hand so Willie doesn’t mind. He only regrets it a little bit that it wasn’t the hand with the signet ring because that would have been even hotter.

They have the talk about keeping things casual and for Willie, that’s truly his intention. Alex, of course, already knows he’s in love but he thinks it will be fine as long as Willie doesn’t return his feelings, he’s only hurting himself after all, and he truly doesn’t expect Willie to fall in love with him so they’re totally fine, right? Sure …

They manage to hook up again at Alex’s charity polo match, and Willie is the one taking the lead again, Alex mostly just responding very enthusiastically.

It’s when they’re meeting up in Paris (I forgot the book reason, the movie doesn’t give one so who really cares) that Willie asks Alex how long he’s known he’s gay.

“Just slightly longer than I knew princes aren’t supposed to be gay. Or if they are, they certainly aren’t allowed to act on it.”

Willie declares that to be bullshit and teases Alex that surely he didn’t follow that verdict. And is very surprised when Alex says that he did indeed do just that (divergence from rwarb!Henry but at least in this verse, I don’t see Alex doing casual hook-ups what with his anxiety and the pressure from his family).

“So …”

“So I only kissed one other boy before you. When I was five. Which was when my parents sat me down and explained how it was my duty to never ever do that again because it would upset everyone very much and surely I didn’t want that.”

“So that first time we …”

“...was indeed my first time,” Alex admits.

Willie is shocked and he also suddenly gets the whole reservation/desperation thing Alex has going on.

“You totally had me fooled,” Willie says, a little impressed. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice pretending to be things I’m not, darling. Although you make it very hard to pretend anything around you.”

Since they actually have use of a hotel room this time around, Willie is now determined to give Alex a proper first time. So he proposes that they ‘make love’ and Alex is very nervous but also very determined. He tries telling himself that it won’t change anything. That it won’t change anything for Willie. That he’s just being nice to him. Sure …

Except Willie very much falls in love with Alex, even if he doesn’t quite admit it to himself yet. Besides, Alex wants to keep it casual, right? He’s probably just using Willie to finally get some dick. Which Willie can’t even blame him for. So it’s fine, right? Sure …

Willie offers to bottom but Alex surprises him when he says he wants to feel Willie inside of him.

“You sure?” - “Just because I haven’t had sex with another person yet doesn’t mean I haven’t experimented.”

Willie nearly combusts trying to imagine Alex “experimenting.”

They do in fact make love and it’s way more intimate than either of them thought possible. Cue very important image of Alex urging Willie deeper with a hand pressing down on the small of his back ;P

And then it’s back to long distance texting and calling. Alex starts writing emails to Willie which he never sends. He just needs to pour out his longing and love and thoughts somehow, keeping them out of the actual texts he swaps with Willie, which are carefully just horny and not soft.

They hook up again some time later, which is when Aunt Victoria busts them and nearly has a heart attack and does a lot of swearing in Spanish and forces Willie to tell his uncle.

Caleb, the gossip loving bitch, is honestly impressed by Willie managing to hook up with a real prince but as the president, he does have to caution Willie not to fuck everything up and to figure out if he feels forever about Alex because a relationship like that will define his life one way or another. But Willie isn’t really sure about that at that point. Because while Paris blew his mind, he and Alex are back to being vaguely casual about everything so who knows what’s actually going on here. He sure doesn’t.

Except then one fateful day Alex is maybe a little drunk or maudlin (maybe something to do with his sister’s death anniversary or something else that triggered that) and lets it slip that these emails exist. And of course Willie immediately needs to read ALL of them and needles and prods Alex until Alex goes “fuck it” and sends them, immediately regretting it and closing his laptop and burying himself in his bed to hide. 

And Willie, well, he is overwhelmed by this deepest truth Alex just revealed to him. The emails paint a picture of him he hardly dares believe is truly how Alex sees him. They contain all of Alex’s love and his hurts and thoughts about the monarchy and they are so truly and utterly Alex that their shared texts so far pale by comparison. And Alex shared all of that with him. Laid himself bare. Opened himself completely to Willie, body and heart and soul.

It does a pretty solid number on him and for a few days he is actually just truly overwhelmed (because canon Willie doesn’t handle things getting serious all that well, does he?) and doesn’t know what to say to Alex.

Except he misses Alex more than ever before (and yes, all the while Alex suffers acutely from thinking he just ruined it all).

Willie eventually texts back and invites Alex to hang out at his uncle’s luxury cabin in the woods for labour day weekend where they can really talk (he can also bring Luke and Reggie because Julie and Flynn will be there as well and they demanded he ask for Alex to bring his friends). 

Alex is convinced it’s a bad idea but he goes anyway. Luke and Reggie might convince him for purely selfish reasons because they want to hang out with the girls, but Alex is also too desperate to see Willie again even though he is 100% sure it’s a very bad idea.

Things are new and strange between them but also softer than ever before and while Alex panics inside about the possibility of Willie actually, inexplicably falling in love with him, he is also unable to tear himself away.

They have a great weekend together and go into a bar in town, trying for incognito but the whole Secret Service and Alex’s bodyguards thing is a bit on the nose (plus everybody was warned away from filming them etc, you know, super not suspicious). Willie falls even deeper in love when he watches Alex absolutely killing it at karaoke (after some vodka shots or many). That man can both sing and move when he forgets he is being watched and Willie is not okay!

Alex only drank all the alcohol because he tried to shut up the voices in his head worrying about the whole ‘this wasn’t supposed to get serious’ thing.

But it’s fine, right? Sure …

And then the next day has Willie just about saying out loud that he is in love with Alex, except Alex flees again before Willie can get the words out. First the bathing platform and then the continent. Again. Luke and Reggie are not happy but mostly they’re just worried.

Alex disappears into his cocoon phase, determined to nip the whole thing in the bud even though it seems a little late and he really shouldn’t have let it get that far.

Willie goes crazy over Alex’s radio silence and while Flynn is all in favour of pranking Alex in retaliation and enacting some kind of revenge, Julie suggests he should use his air miles and go to London and maybe talk to Alex first. Flynn suggests he take some eggs with him just in case. He doesn’t of course. I’m not sure you can even import eggs to the UK from America in your carry-on luggage.

Anyway. So Willie flies to London and storms a palace in the rain to confront his prince. It goes pretty much as in the movie, with Alex declaring he can’t afford to have a relationship because of the whole prince thing. And that this has been a big mistake from the beginning and he shouldn’t have done it and Willie was never supposed to fall in love with him. That he was never meant to get hurt in this.

“What about you?” - “It was always too late for me.”

Except Willie doesn’t back down and while he isn’t as forceful as rwarb!Alex in that scene, he uses his pitiable puppy dog eyes, and the shivering and hugging himself to full effect and sadly declares that he will only go if Alex directly tells him to go.

Cue “Don’t make me” and Willie getting the first inkling of hope that Alex will not actually be able to tell him to go. And of course Alex can’t.

Instead he takes him to the Victoria & Albert museum and tells him how he always wanted to bring someone he loved here and dance with him amidst the statues. He starts dancing on his own, slowly, without music, but then Willie pulls up a song on his phone and draws Alex into his arms and dances with him and it is everything Alex always wanted and Alex decides that he cannot lose this. Cannot lose Willie. They’re both determined to make it work somehow and Alex sends Willie home with his signet ring while he receives the key to Willie’s childhood home in return that Willie is always wearing (and hey, isn’t that a neat coincidence that Willie canonically already comes equipped with a key?! ;D)

They keep writing emails to each other, baring their souls, and then of course these same emails get hacked and published for the whole world to read.

In place of Miguel in the movie, I imagine the creepy Hollywood Ghost Club guy maybe worked on Caleb’s campaign and had a crush on Willie but when he made his move on him, Willie declined. He did not take that well, left the campaign and started working as a sleazy journalist who somehow gets hold of a picture or video of Alex and Willie at that karaoke bar and puts the clues together.

And it’s bad for Willie, because it is an invasion of his privacy but at least the world already knew he was also into guys. It just learns how much Willie hates being in the spotlight and misses the freedom of just skating down the street like a normal guy again.

It’s so much worse for Alex though because now his whole careful prince persona is absolutely shattered and everyone knows the deepest secrets of his heart. That he is gay. That he can be a sarcastic little shit (which princes are also not supposed to be). That he loves literature, music and dance. And that he hates being a prince and thinks the monarchy is an antiquated institution. It’s all out there for everyone to read and he is sure that everybody absolutely hates him now.

The palace forbids any communication and they take away Alex’s phone and Willie is once more driven crazy with the radio silence although he is very sure that this time it’s not Alex’s decision and that Alex is doing much worse because he doesn’t even have a supportive family that stands behind him as he does (because Caleb, Victoria and the Molinas + Flynn are all absolutely there for him).

He makes the speech from the movie, confirming the relationship and rallying against the invasion of privacy and Alex’s forced, non-consensual outing, and reminding the world that this has always been at the heart of the queer liberation movement, the right to decide when or if to come out. He braces the journalists and the camera flashes and gives that speech even though he hates giving speeches and hopes that Alex sees it. So he knows that nothing has changed for Willie. That he still loves him and stands by him. Even if the whole world turns against them.

Victoria finally manages to get Alex on the phone for Willie thanks to Shaan and Alex is Very Not Okay and even through the phone Willie can hear that Alex is close to a panic attack again. He immediately leaves for London.

The rest pretty much goes as in the movie. Alex and Willie are called in to talk to the king (Alex’s parents being present and being very judgemental) and His Majesty tries to convince Alex to deny everything and pretend it is all fake and a ruse to destroy his reputation etc yada bla but (since a sister is not at hand) I think Shaan comes in on the heels of the palace guy talking to the king and alerts Alex to the crowds gathering in support outside Buckingham Palace. Alex finally stands up to his parents and grandfather and he and Willie officially declare their relationship in front of the crowd.

They are very happy.

There might also be some election stuff going on but tbh, I’m not all too concerned with that.

Also, at some point, Willie asks Alex if he wants to have kids and Alex says no because whatever happens, his life will never be normal and he doesn’t want that for his kids. He never wanted to give any heirs to the institution of the British monarchy and even considered sterilisation to make sure of that. He might still go through with that. Also, selfishly, if he abdicates and escapes he wants to live the life he always wanted, which is absolutely fine with Willie. They can be cool gay uncles to all of their friends’ kids without tying themselves down too much, rejecting the heteronormative happy ending with 2.5 kids and a picket fence, and instead enjoying their freedom.

So that’s the Willex Red White & Royal Blue AU I won’t write. Except for giving you 4.4k of headcanons for it ;D

#willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie ortegas #wille throckmorton #willie nolastname #jatp fanfic #phantomfloat #best gay ghosts #willex wednesday #yeo writes #(not) #willex rwarb au

[cha-melodius]

20 for the writing meme, please!

Thanks for asking! You picked a doozy, lol. (Ask me questions about my writing)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

All right, here's some meta for chapter 2 of Nova, Baby (why chapter 2? Because it's an entire 5+1 inside a single chapter of a multichap fic, which is meta enough reason to choose it).

So yeah, it's a 5+1! I thought this was very clever, lol. Also a little bonkers, but there you go. I love this chapter because it really is a huge arc in Alex and Henry's relationship development, plus I got to play with these little encapsulated moments, and some other characters got to come in too (Nora, Pez). I'll give you some "behind the story" and lists of references for each section!

Below will be spoilers for the entire fic, so be forewarned.

I. My excuse for food-as-a-metaphor-for-love. I love that canonically Alex is a good cook, and this was my excuse to have them indulge when normally you might not get much of that in spy fiction (although, this is also a bit of a reference to my other fandom, The Man from UNCLE, where one of the spies is also a good cook; fancy dishes at safehouses is kind of my jam). I chose molé as a dish because making a traditional one has so many ingredients, to really drive home Alex putting a lot of effort into his relationship with Henry.

II. I had such fun writing this one so that, even though it's from Alex's POV, the reader doesn't know he's wearing a vest until Henry does. He might not have been risking his life (much), but he was definitely risking some broken ribs. This one has a bunch of little references in it, mostly to other spy media:

jumping through a fifth story window into a swimming pool—this is a Burn Notice reference. Throw a mattress into the pool first. Also I just love the idea of Alex being a little Extra when it comes to being a spy.

three guys who look like they walked off a Guy Ritchie set—TMFU is a Guy Ritchie movie, plus I love his movies in general.

Alex hadn’t gotten any confirmation from Langley that MI6 would be a part of this op, Henry had just shown up and Alex hadn’t really questioned it—Meant to sow a tiny thread of doubt in Alex's mind, which would pay off later when the fake burn file comes through.

he notices the way Henry’s eyelashes are wet and clumping together and his eyes are rimmed in red—Henry fucking lost it here. See also the part where he kills the men rather than his usual incapacitating, nonlethal shots. This is probably the point where he realizes how deep he's in.

Turns out, they don’t argue about what to do with it. They destroy the hard drive—direct TMFU reference, (spoilers for that movie), this is what Illya and Napoleon do at the end with the missile plans.

III. The classic Nora-and-Alex-have-a-conversation-about-his-bisexuality scene. Also I just loved the idea of Alex being so oblivious to his bisexuality that he's actually sucked cock before and written it off because 'that's just what spies do'. The layout of desks/offices in this fic roughly comes from the show Covert Affairs, since it's one of the few I've watched that actually regularly shows CIA interiors.

IV. Behind the story peek: Henry bails on this mission because he's concerned, after Lisbon, that he's getting in too deep. Also this scene Alex being a Henry-sexual (not interested in going home with any other people in the bar but can't figure out why), which I love. Also Pez in a poncho, because he would. Pez and Alex have an absolute blast on their mission, and Pez gives Henry no end of shit about Alex when he gets back.

V. Tender wound-tending my beloved. This was such a moment of honesty for them. I mean, not completely honest, but I think this is the first time Alex really realizes just how much Henry cares about him (save the full romantic feelings). There is, of course, a massive callback to this scene near the end of the fic where Alex tells Henry that he can't die because promised he'd always take care of him. All that time, he's carried that in his memory. So yeah, this is a pivotal moment.

+1. Ah, the kiss moment. I always love a kiss-as-a-cover trope, and it made for a good first kiss in this one where it would be easier to write off the potential for feelings, since it was all for the mission. Lots of canon references in this one:

in another life, he would have made a great politician—obvious reference is obvious.

I suppose I could, I don’t know, fall into the dessert table or something—a refence to Cakegate of course.

Christ, you’re thick sometimes—I changed the quote because I wanted it to be a bit less severe than "as thick as it gets." Alex is only thick sometimes in this universe, lol.

Henry’s back hits the wall next to some kind of small, indoor tree—always kissing under a tree, these two.

public displays of affection can be strategically useful for diverting scrutiny away from yourself—yes, this a CA: TWS reference

ALL RIGHT, that's probably enough lmaooooo. You asked me to ramble and I rambled. I hope this was interesting to at least one person.

#nova baby #about my fics #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #firstprince fic

[theprinceandagcd]

First Lines/WIP Wednesday

i really gotta get one of them cute graphics like y'all have... but i have no artistic talent.... so I guess I ain't gonna have one ANYWAY

@firenati0n tagged me in first lines and @heybuddy-drabbles kind of tagged me in a nice lil combo post of both so here tf we are

this is something I've shared a couple snippets of on Twitter the last few days (follow meeee @/princeandagcd) but I'm writing a fic where henry visits his dad's grave throughout canon events and then a few post canon events (weddings and kids and whatnot). this section in particular is in the middle of his and alex's relationship, specifically set after Wimbledon :)

He tucks his knees up to his chest, feeling small. "I concede that I should have expected this, mind you, because I was aware it would happen. I knew I would go from loving this idea of him to just loving him. And I do, already." Henry huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Love him, that is. So much that it feels like a part of me, more than anything else does at the moment. I even think it’s making me a better person, getting to love him this way.” It’s easy to picture his dad tilting his head, eyes filled to the brim with concern. Henry needs to be honest to someone – it may as well be his deceased father. So, he pushes the words past his lips, each one razor sharp against his tongue. “But I know it won’t last, and now I only have the option of waiting for him to... to tire of me and leave." The epitaph underneath his dad’s name is right in his eyeline, the word father almost feeling like a taunt. Lately, Alex has so often assuaged the permanent ache in his chest, but the fear of what will happen has the wound ripped open, feeling as fresh as it did the day Arthur died. "That's what people do around me, right? They leave. It very well may be my slot in life." Henry swallows, thinking of Alex's brilliant smile and his hungry kisses and his gentle hands. "I know we won’t be forever,” he reiterates, pressing a firm hand to the pain beneath his sternum. “Is it selfish of me, though, to cherish this time with him? When I am cognizant of how the story ends?"

I also don't have a tag list for firstprince on here but I def should get one?? so if you're interested in being added just let me know and I'll get one started lmao i'm sorry i'm a mess bye

#rwrb #firstprince #wip wednesday #my writing

[iheart9095]

PEOPLE WE MEET ON VACATION is my first dip into the emily henry spectrum. and this did not disappoint at all.

“On vacation, you can be anyone you want.”

starting from the first line all the way to the last page of the book had me hooked. i'm a sucker for romance with a bit of thrill and drama, so the suspense of not-knowing what happened because of the sequence in which she let the story unfold had me at the edge of my seat. (the only suspense i can tolerate is from romance books because i know at the end they're going to end up together!!!) and also, i'm a huge fan of the friends-to-lovers trope.

“But this, this is the moment I first think it.

I am in love with you.

The thought is terrifying, probably not even true. A dangerous idea to entertain. I release my hold on it, watch it slip away.

But there are points in the center of my palms that burn, scorched, proof I once held it there.”

i love men written by women, like alex nilsen in this book. but women written from the perspective of women is so satisfying. poppy's experiences and thoughts and feelings felt so visceral. she truly has a special place in my heart.

“Suddenly we're not kids anymore, and it feels like it happened overnight, so fast I didn't have time to notice, to let go of everything that used to matter so much, to see that the old wounds that once felt like gut-level lacerations have faded to small white scars, mixed in among the stretch marks and sunspots and little divots where time has grazed against my body.

I've put so much time and distance between myself and that lonely girl, and what does it matter? Here is a piece of my past, right in front of me, miles away from home. You can't outrun yourself. Not your history, not your fears, not the parts of yourself you're worried are wrong.”

#2023 reads #emily henry #people we meet on vacation #bookworm

[faewaren]

noah gets railed PLS 🥰

For you sweet Alex!

NSFW text under the cut.

“Jesus, Sargent, don’t fucking stain our couch,” Ronan says, because somehow that’s the first words anyone can muster upon seeing this genuinely decadent sight.

Noah flips him off for it, without turning away from his very important work. He does this for a few reasons:

 1. Blue is scooted far enough forward, her ass hanging off the cushion with Noah’s head between her legs, that there’s basically no chance of dripping on the couch proper.

 2. Noah does not appreciate the insinuation that he would not clean up his own messes.

 3. Noah doesn’t feel that the great art of pussy eating should be impeded by something as inconsequential as stains.

 4. Their couch cushions have machine washable covers and they have machine washable covers for a reason, and Ronan knows this. 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you and Noah get your hands down each other’s pants in here, Lynch,” Blue retorts, definitely breathy but still too coherent, and Noah gets his mouth around her clit and puts his tongue to even more enthusiastic work, because God, he loves her. 

There’s the sound of footsteps and then a third hand in Noah’s hair, petting. 

“Having fun?” Adam asks, sounding amused, and so close that it has to be his hand in Noah’s hair, and Adam already knows the answer but Noah hums out a pleased little mmhmm against Blue’s cunt anyway, which makes her thighs twitch on his shoulders. 

“He’s bein’ very good for me,” Blue says, her voice chased by a sigh, which makes Noah’s dick twitch, too. She shifts herself slightly to get him where she wants him, or to get more comfortable, and whichever it is Noah is very grateful to her for it and makes sure to show her that, with his mouth. 

“He’s always very good,” Gansey says, from somewhere further away. There’s a brief pause, before he amends. “Well. Often, anyway.” Noah’s brain simultaneously hits him with oh basically the whole gang’s here that’s nice and rude, Gansey, even though Gansey is right and Noah is sometimes kind of a bitch. 

“I’m loving how casual you all are about this,” Henry says, and Noah mentally beams hi Henry! in his direction in the hopes that he’s become more psychic since last time he saw him. “I had no idea that when I agreed to enter into this relationship that I was also joining a den of sin and debauchery.”

----

Ot6 porn focused on Noah, who has wound up in subspace and would like to be good for once, maybe, please.

#nsft #ot6 #strange constellation

[thebonecarver]

homesickness, huh?

Haha I have come with a new fic! This one is Red White and Royal Blue, I love these two so gosh darn much and you will be getting a lot of them, as well as some feysandddddddddd. This one has angst so if your not into that you obvi don’t have to read! To the people who are still here as I always say,

Enjoy....

Summary: Henry be feeling homesick but realizes its a different kind of sick, Alex comforts him and its just fluffy with feels

*~*

Henry always thought that he wouldn't miss The Royal Palace. He always thought that leaving his home for so many years would be liberating, and in a sense it was. He now lived in a brownstone with the love of his life, Alex Claremont Diaz. He was happy, so fucking happy that he got to wake up beside Alex every morning, see him sleeping, looking so relaxed. The lines of stress were gone and he looked so much younger. He loved hearing his morning voice, rough and scratchy, loved the way he murmured his name as they made sweet, slow morning sex before getting ready for the day.

But alas there he was, wishing he could be back in his old bedroom, sitting on the bed with Pez and Bea while eating Cornettos. He wished he could walk in the streets of London again, walking with Bea and Pez. Gods how long had it been since he met them in person? Over six months probably. He also missed that falafel stand outside of Kensington. He once took Bea and Pez to it, in shock when they said they did not like the falafels. And Jaffa Cakes. Gods he missed Jaffa Cakes. He missed those late nights with Bea, just talking and eating Jaffa Cakes. He remembered that time when he tried to teach Alex how to say Jaffa Cakes, and how terribly it had gone.

Oh, how weirdly Alex Claremont Diaz, his only true love and a menace to society brain worked. He was so smart and yet so oblivious it was hilarious. Especially when he found out Nora and June were dating a month ago. They had made it as obvious as possible, and even Henry, hell even Zahra knew that they were together or had pieced it together. The shock on Alex’s face when he found out was timeless. Henry chuckled, but soon enough his mind wandered off to London.

How could it be that a place that made me feel so alone end up being a place I miss? Henry thought to himself. Living with Alex had brought him so much joy, so much happiness he couldn’t even explain. He loved his new home.

But was it so wrong to miss his old one? One he was familiar with?

He only went to America for special events before meeting Alex, never having the time to miss home because he would be back the next day. But now that he had stayed in America for almost a year now, he had never thought the homesickness would come. It certainly hadn't come in the start, but for some bloody reason the universe loved tempering with him, making his life as miserable as possible when he should be happy.

Henry sighed, taking a sip of his Earl Grey Tea and got up to start prepping dinner. He was by no means a cook, but the least he could do was prepare some nachos with cheese and salsa on top. He wasn’t that useless.

Alex would be home soon, and he prayed to whoever was listening that his mood would improve. That he wouldn’t hope that there were Cornettos in the fridge every time he opened it to get something for the nachos. He had decided to put some of that spicy sauce that Alex loved, even though it would absolutely burn his very bland English tongue. It would make Alex happy, which in turn made him happy.

He was setting the salad on the table when somebody opened the door, screaming a very loud “Honey I’m Home!” Henry chuckled. He was so fucking in love with Alex Claremont Diaz. He came into the kitchen, probably sniffing the nachos. They were one of his favourite dishes, and for some gods knows why reason he loved Henry’s nachos. He couldn’t cook or bake anything for the life of him. If Alex was lying, he made a good show of it.

“Hey Baby,” He murmured, pressing a kiss his exposed skin at his neck. He wound his arms around Henry, head burrowed into his back. Somehow Alex made his homesickness go away a bit, if only marginally.

Henry chuckled. “Rough day at work, love?”

“The worst,” he mumbled into his shirt, the sound muffled. Henry chuckled again, Christ he was so in love with Alex Claremont Diaz. He hoped he hid the stress well, for he did not want to worry Alex. The homesickness will go away soon Henry thought. Well, more forced himself to think that. He knew Alex could probably make him feel better, but this was his problem and he did not want to bother anyone else.

Not surprisingly, Henry hadn't hidden his emotions well. Alex could feel the tightness in his body, like an elastic band that could snap at any second. Alex whipped his head up, and could see the stress lines near his eyes and mouth, a clear indication that something was wrong. It was something only Alex knew, the cracks in his mask.

“Baby what happened?” Alex asked urgently, his chocolate brown eyes staring into his sky-blue ones. Henry tried and failed to look away. When Alex stared at him, right into his eyes , he was a goner.

That didn’t mean he still didn’t try.

“Nothing love, just tired.” Henry said serenely, but it came out a bit wavery.

“Bullshit. I can see the fucking cogs turning in your brain and something fucking happened.” Alex said, his tone stern but full of worry and love. Love for him .

Henry sighed again, closing his eyes, and began to tell what happened.

*~*

Alex listened the whole time, dozens of emotions on his face. Happiness, worry, sadness, guilt (though he readily took that one away). It was only when he finished that Alex started talking.

“It seems that all the things you miss have to do with people in London.” Alex said, his face full of love for Henry, even wen he was not at his strongest. A part of his heart thawed at that.

But what he said had shocked him. It wasn’t that he missed Kensington or London, or bloody England. He misses Pez and Bea .

“Your right” Henry breathed, and began to sob.

Alex held him through the whole time, rubbing his back, murmuring ‘baby’ every few seconds, and Henry fell even more in love with Alex Claremont-Diaz, if that was even possible.

He indeed missed Bea and Pez, but having Alex here, here in an apartment they shared , he thought to himself for a moment, while he was in Alex’s lap.

I’ll be ok.

*~*

Taglist:

@themoonthestarsthesuriel

@live-the-fangirl-life

@emikadreams

@delightfullyterrible-blog

#rwrb fanfic #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fluff #fluff and angst #tooth rotting fluff #loved writing these two #will def write more of them! #thoughts plss #if u wanna be added to my rwrb taglist lmk!

[angelsfalling16]

Love You So Much It Hurts

My first ever FirstPrince fic! It was a little rushed, but I hope you all like it!

Summary: Henry is finding it difficult to keep his feelings hidden for any longer, and when Alex confronts him to find out why he's acting so weird, the truth comes out.

Word Count: 2333

Day 1 of Tropetember: friends to lovers au

Read it on ao3

***

Henry has just about had enough. Alex is extremely infuriating, and it’s going to push him over the drink. Drive him into complete insanity and an early grave. Somehow, Alex is oblivious to all of this.

They’re supposed to be studying for midterms next week, but instead, they’re sprawled out across Alex’s bed as he drones on about one of his classes and some kid in the class who is always trying to outdo him. Usually, Henry wouldn’t mind listening to him and would be actively trying to engage with him in the conversation, but today, he’s too busy trying to focus on making sure his heart doesn’t beat out of his chest.

“Hey, are you alright?” Alex asks abruptly, apparently sensing that Henry hasn’t been paying attention to him for the past few minutes.

“Yeah. I think I’m just tired.”

“Then, take a nap,” he suggests. “You look cozy enough in my bed, and I don’t mind.” The offer shouldn’t be weird, but it does weird things to Henry’s chest. It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened.

Neither of them have ever had the best sleep schedules, so they took naps when and where they could, including in each other’s beds. And yes, that occasionally meant waking up with their arms around each other because there wasn’t quite enough space for them to spread out comfortably.

It wasn’t something they ever really talked about. It was just something they did. Even after Henry came out to Alex during his junior year of high school. Alex made sure that he knew they were still friends and that nothing was going to change between them just because Henry liked guys.

Henry was both relieved and a little wounded by that. On one hand, he was glad that Alex was neither angry nor disgusted with him. On the other hand, he was harboring a huge crush for his best friend, and it hurt to know that he would never feel the same way.

And right now, those feelings have only gotten worse, and it feels wrong to sleep in Alex’s bed. Like maybe he’s taking advantage of him or something.

“I thought you had a date tonight. With Sheila. Or was it Shane?” Definitely something that started with a ‘sh’ sound. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem.”

“Don’t try to pretend like Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t fuck on the first date. You and I both know that that is far from the truth. That’s practically all you do.” He accidentally lets a little bitterness slip into his tone, and Alex gives him a weird look.

“I, uh, just meant that I could go to their place instead.”

“Oh. Right.” Henry hadn’t thought about that. In fact, he very much tried not to think about who Alex went home with because that only tore new and deeper wounds into his heart.

He’s honestly not sure how much more of this he can take.

Alex is his best friend in the whole world, but maybe living together was a mistake.

It’s not like he hasn’t known since forever that he has feelings for Alex, but this is different. It’s like something has shifted between them ever since they moved into this apartment together. It just kind of made sense. Alex is in his second year of college and Henry his third, and they knew that they could get along because they practically lived at each other’s houses when they were younger. 

But something about spending most of their time together and seeing sleepy Alex in the morning pre-coffee every day has caused him to fall in so deep that he knows he has no hope of every getting out of this hole he has dug for himself. And when Alex came out to him as bi shortly after they moved in together, Henry allowed himself to fill with hope. Maybe Alex could like him after all.

But then he kept bringing home someone new every week, whoever had caught his eye in one of his lectures, and it started to hurt.

Henry is in love with him, and he can’t pretend like that doesn’t have some effect on their relationship. Like it doesn’t kill him to see Alex with someone else, especially these people who don’t deserve someone as incredible as him.

“You know, I could always cancel and stay home,” Alex says, placing a hand on his arm.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because something is obviously upsetting you, and I hate to leave you alone in this state.”

Henry shakes him off and slides off the bed. “I’m fine. I’m not actually tired anymore. I think I’ll go study in my own room. Have fun on your date tonight,” he adds politely.

He shuts himself in his room but doesn’t sleep or study. He just slumps to the floor against his door and tries to find a solution for all of this.

He could move out at the end of the semester. Transfer schools and never talk to Alex again.

That’s a terrible idea, he knows. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, but especially Alex, who hasn’t actually done anything wrong.

He just can’t seem to think rationally when it comes to Alex. He makes him so mad that he wants to hit him, but he also wants to kiss that infuriating grin off his face. He wants to fall asleep next to him and make him breakfast in the morning. He wants to take him on a romantic date and then make him forget about every other person he has ever had in his bed. He wants to make Alex his.

But he can’t because Alex doesn’t see him that way, and he has to find a way to deal with that before it wrecks their friendship.

***

A little over an hour later, there’s a knock at Henry’s bedroom door. That’s weird. Alex never knocks. He usually just comes blazing in, talking a mile a minute, barely giving Henry any time to catch up. But when Henry opens the door for him, he’s unusually quiet.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your date?”

“Yes, but I canceled because there is something more important that I need to do.”

“And what would that be? Find someone better looking?” Henry asks, hating himself for the way that his jealousy makes him act. He turns away from the door and goes to sit on the end of his bed, putting some distance between them.

“Noo,” Alex says slowly, giving him another weird look. “I need to be here for my best friend. Even if he is mad at me for some reason. Seriously. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. It’s like I told you earlier; I’m just tired.”

“You’re always tired, which is terrible, and I wish you would get more sleep. But this is more than that. You’ve been avoiding me for a while now and acting really weird about me dating people. I hate to have to ask this, but are you actually not okay with my being bi? Does it bother you?”

“What? Of course not. I accept you fully for who you are, and I’m glad you told me.”

“Then what’s going on? Because I spent the last hour running around the block and trying to figure out what I did to upset you, and that was all I could come up with.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Not everything is about you, remember? This is something that I have to deal with on my own.”

Alex steps farther into the room and settles on the edge of the bed, close enough to Henry to touch him but not close enough that it will be accidental.

“You don’t have to go through anything on your own. I’m here and I care about you, and I would do anything to make you happy.”

“I know, and that’s why I—.” Henry just barely cuts himself off before he just comes out and says the one thing he has been trying so hard not to say. “I just don’t want to burden you with this. It would ruin our friendship, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“God, Henry. What’d you do? Kill someone?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then what could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me? We tell each other everything, even the truly embarrassing things we wish we could forget. What could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me?”

Henry groans and pulls at his own hair. He can’t do this. He can’t tell him the truth. But he can’t keep hiding it from him either. He has to make a decision. So, with a deep breath, he makes it.

“I’m in love with you.”

He can’t bear to look at Alex, doesn’t want to see his expression and know how disgusted he is with him. He wonders if it’s too late to take it back but doesn’t want to. Even though he knows the destruction that those five words can cause, he’s glad that they’re out there. It was killing him to keep them in. He just wishes Alex would say something so that he knew whether or not he should start packing his things.

Finally, Henry glances over at him, and he’s just sitting there looking stunned. Henry thinks that, maybe for the first time in his life, Alex is absolutely speechless. He never thought he’d see the day. He only wishes it wasn’t due to what he just said.

“Look, it doesn’t have to change things. I mean, I know it will change some small things. But like, we can still be friends. If you want.” He’s rambling in a fashion very unlike him, but he can’t seem to stop. “Or I can leave. I never meant for you to find out, and I don’t want it to ruin things. But if you’re weirded out by it, I get it.”

“Just. Give me a minute to process. And don’t go anywhere. The last thing I would ever want is for you to leave,” he says earnestly, finally looking at Henry.

Henry nods. He doesn’t want him to leave so that’s something. That’s better than telling him to get out of his sight and never return. It’s already better than the way that Henry’s family acted when they found out he was gay; they just pretended not to hear him. Only his sister acknowledged him, accepting him fully and helping him move out as soon as he graduated high school. He still doesn’t talk to them that much, which is why he’s so fucking terrified of losing Alex.

He’s part of his family. He just hopes he hasn’t screwed that up by loving him too much and passing a line he shouldn’t have.

When Alex is presumably done processing, he reaches out to place his hand over Henry’s. Which doesn’t tell him anything.

They’ve held hands before. But it didn’t mean anything. They were always really close, almost like brothers, except not because Henry couldn’t keep his stupid gay heart from falling for him.

“So. You’re in love with me?” Alex finally says.

“Yes. I do believe we’ve established that already.”

“I know. I just.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Do you know how I realized I was bi?”

“By getting drunk and hooking up with some random guy?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and smiling a little. “Because I moved in here with you, and during the first week of living together, I saw you step out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel slung over your hips, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all of that exposed skin and how badly I wanted to touch it. Then I went to some stupid party and got stupid drunk and made out with some random guy with blond hair that was nowhere near as soft as yours. But all that time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was so terrified of what it all meant, not because it meant that I liked guys but because it meant that I liked you. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

It’s Henry’s turn to smile as he realizes what Alex is saying. “So, basically, we’re both idiots.”

“Um, speak for yourself. I’m doing great in my classes.”

Henry laughs and shoves him. But then he keeps one of his hands on him, wrapped around his arm, not wanting to let go.

“I had no idea you liked me. You were always with someone else, and I hated it,” Henry admits quietly.

“Hey, look at me.” Alex brings his hand up to gently cup Henry’s jaw and tilts his head so that their eyes meet. “None of them meant anything to me. They were just a way for me to try to forget about you. Of course, it didn’t work because every time they left, you were still there looking gorgeous as all hell.”

The corner of Henry’s mouth quirks up. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“Yes. And I love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize it.”

Henry shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Alright. Well, can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” So he does, taking Henry’s face in both of his hands before pulling him down into the best kiss he’s ever had.

It’s soft at first as they tentatively learn each other’s mouths. Then, Henry sighs and Alex slides his tongue over his lips, and the kiss deepens.

It’s everything that Henry has ever dreamt of and more. It’s perfect.

He’s not entirely sure this means that they’re a couple now, but he hopes it does. For the moment, though, he’s content to wrap himself around Alex and kiss him until they both forget where they are.

Henry loves him and Alex loves him back, and that’s all that matters right now.

#firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my writing #love you so much it hurts #its a first kiss fic #bc that's what I'm good at #lol #i'm really nervous about posting this #but it makes me want to write a more drawn out childhood friends fic for them #hmm #tropetember

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours- 2

Word Count 5,437 *not my gif*

Story Summary: Inspired by the 2 part I did of the same title. Follows Dean and Reader through season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: Adaddon is back and using two hunters to draw the boys into a trap so of course you're right there with them

Warnings: cursing, fights, minor character death

Dean could hear your laughter drifting down the hall the moment he stepped out of his room. You'd only been at the bunker a week or so but you'd always had a habit of making any place feel your presence. Hell even Crowley asked if he could see you when he found out you were there. Kevin was acting more normal than he'd ever seen the kid and it was a bit of a relief to know he wasn't the only one keeping a close eye on Sam should Ezekial decide to not hold up his end of the bargain.

He headed towards the kitchen and could hear music. The closer he got he made out the tune of "You give love a bad name" when he stepped around the corner he was met with the sight of Sam spinning you around while you sang along word for word. Kevin was sitting at the table working on a large stack of pancakes and laughing at the show of you and Sam dancing around the kitchen in your pajamas. The two of you had formed a close friendship back when you were both the youngest kids being pawned off on Bobby during hunts and Dean would be lying if he said he didn't wish you were as comfortable around him as you were Sam.

He could still remember the first case him and Sam worked solo with you. It was the Croatoan virus. You hadn't blinked an eye when you refused to leave Sam's side when he was exposed telling them both that if they were giving in so were you. Over the years you'd been in and out of their lives and the day he'd been dragged out of hell you showed up at Bobby's and had a blade to his neck before him or Bobby could explain. When they proved it was really him that was the first time you'd ever hugged him. You'd pratically squealed when you jumped into his arms "Dean! You're back!"

You always had a habit that no matter how long you went without seeing him or Sam you always treated them as if you'd just seen them the day before. When Sam was soulless you helped him to track down Death to get Sam's soul back. He'd never seen you back down from a fight especially if someone you cared about was fighting.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when you slid to a stop in front of him and held a hand out to him. "C'mon Dean" you pleaded and he shook his head "I haven't even had my coffee yet Y/N" you being the ever persistent woman you were rolled your eyes then looked over your shoulder at Sam "Be a good little brother and fix the man some coffee" Sam grinned as he moved to grab Dean's mug and you turned back around to Dean with a smile "So now what's your excuse?" the song switched to "Have you ever seen the rain" and your eyes lit up when he hummed the first couple bars before hesitantly taking your hand.

You slid your arms up around his neck and he put his hands at your waist careful not to catch the bare skin when your shirt rode up slightly. Normally he'd feel stupid as hell dancing in the kitchen? Especially with an audience but the smile on your face was worth it, most of the time you tried to keep up the front of a fearless hunter but since Bobby's death you'd started to let your guard fall more often and around more people than just Sam. When the song ended you winked at him and said "Who knew Dean Winchester can dance?" then moved to turn the player down. Sam cleared his throat and looked from you to Dean before holding the coffee out "Want your coffee Dean?" when you turned your back Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean shot him a glare "Thanks Sammy" you thankfully didn't see the look passed between them when you turned around to ask Kevin if he wanted orange juice.

-------

The ease of the morning was interrupted by a phone call coming in about a busload of bodies found on a naval base. That mixed with the freaky storms and dead cattle circling that area screamed demon. You grabbed your duffel bag and the bag with your fed suit then stepped out of your room and met up with Kevin in the hallway. He glanced down towards the armory so you shot him a smile "Just stay away from him Kev. He'll try to get into your head and it's not worth it" he gave you a small smile in return "I'll stay away from him Y/N" he turned to head to the library so you headed for the map room where Sam and Dean stood waiting. Dean's eyes skimmed over you and your crossed your arms "Is there a problem Dean?" he met your eyes and smirked slightly "Naw, just you're gonna be a lot more fun to look at all day than Sammy here" you rolled your eyes and chunked your duffel bag to him considering they both already kept go bags in baby's trunk "Easy tiger, we got work to do"

You walked next to Sam up the stairs talking about the case and what could possibly be waiting.

------

When Dean rolled to a stop right outside the area that had been tapped off you slid your ID into your pocket then climbed out the backseat. You had stopped off about ten miles back for all of you to change into your suits. "This place reeks of sulphur" Sam muttered and you nodded "Between the stink and the storms.." "Mixed with the dead cattle I'll take demons for a thousand Alex" Dean finished holding the police tape up for you to walk underneath.

The MP noticed the three of you and headed your way so you pulled your badges out while Dean did the introduction "Agents Stark, Banner and Barnes. FBI. Just need to have a look around" She didn't hesitate to ask "Why? This is a military case, not a federal one" "Well that's not what our supervisor said" you interjected and if anything you speaking seemed to make her attitude that much worse "That so? Then maybe him and I ought to have a chat" Sam cut his eyes at you and Dean said "Ok" then pulled his phone out. You wondered what he was doing and leaned up slightly to see him hit Kevin's number.

"Hey boss, we got a little problem" poor Kevin you just hoped he knew to play along. After a beat Dean continued "Yeah just a local badge needs a little confirmation we're supposed to be here. How the word came down from FBI headquarters in D.C." you were glad you were used to situations like this because if not you probably would've laughed imagining how confused Kevin must be but nonetheless Dean said "Yeah" then held the phone out to the MP.

She looked between the three of you before saying "This is sergeant Miranda Bates. Who am I talking to?" She looked back at Dean who you knew by far wouldn't break before asking Kevin "How old are you?" you were started to get annoyed with her attitude when she said "Listen kid, I don't have to do anything and I don't take orders from the feebs so unless you can give me one good reason you got a couple of pretty boy agents and their handler poking around my crime scene" "Handler?" you scoffed and Sam reached a hand out to pull you back next to him as she kept ranting "I'm gonna put them in cuffs and spank your ass raw"

Her face fell at something Kevin said "What?..How did you find that?" You looked between the boys to see if they had any idea what Kevin was telling her but they both shrugged. She finally said "Yes sir" then handed Dean's phone back and walked away.

Dean was barely holding back a smile when he said "Kevin, what the hell did you just do?" Sam motioned to the bus so Dean waved the two of you ahead.

You stepped on the bus behind Sam and went to the first body while Sam started looking over a different one. "Sam look" you pushed back the guy's shirt with a pen to show the bullet hole in his chest. All the bodies had fatal wounds but they were all also long dead.

Dean then stepped up on the bus and asked "Got anything?" Sam nodded to the body nearest you "This guy was shot in the heart" "That what killed him?" he asked and Sam looked at you so you shrugged "Maybe? but like ten or twenty years ago" Dean glanced at Sam who added "All these bodies have fatal wounds but they're all old" "So meatsuits?" Dean guessed so you nodded "Bodies took a licking but demons kept them ticking"

"And now they're riding the soldiers" Sam added. Dean looked behind Sam "Hey" you looked up to see sergeant Bates walking up onto the bus with a tablet in her hands "Excuse me agents. We pulled this off the security camera. You might want to take a look" Sam reached out for it so you moved to the side so Dean could see the screen as well. It clearly showed the soldiers walking away but Sam froze on one woman in particular. You knew they couldn't tell you why in front of Bates but the moment the three of you stepped off the bus Dean said "Abaddon? Seriously?" and you knew why Sam had frozen the screen. That was the demon that had attacked the men of letters and who killed their grandfather Henry after him and her jumped through a magical portal to recent time.

"I thought you kentucky fried that meatsuit?" Dean asked Sam who shrugged "I did Dean" "Then how did she get it back?" you asked and nodded to the cop that held the tape up for you to pass. "And why's she playing G.I. Joe?" Dean said and Sam responded "No clue. Why don't you ask her when we find her?"

You slid into the backseat and pulled your suit jacket off while Dean pulled out onto the road and said "Oh I will and then I'm gonna chop her freaking head off..again"

------

After stopping off long enough for all of you to change back into normal clothes you got back on the road to the bunker. It was already dark out and you were laid across the backseat when Sam's phone rang and you heard him say "Hold on Kevin..Wait..slow down" Sam cut his eyes back when you sat up then put the phone on speaker while Kevin repeated the coordinates he'd been given then said "And she gave me two names. Irv Franklin and Tracy Bell" "Irv's a friend, don't know Tracy" Dean cut in before Kevin continued "All right, the lady said they were hunters and that if you didn't go save them that she would kill them" "Yeah heard that song before" Dean grumbled but you were looking up the coordinates to see where you were all headed.

"Dean, who was she?" Kevin asked so you answered without looking up "The bad guy" Dean asked Kevin to dig up everything the men of letters had on the knights of hell. Abaddon was one although you didn't know exactly what that entailed. After Sam hung up with Kevin you leaned up between him and Dean "The numbers point to a spot on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon" then glanced between the two of them "Are we gonna adknowledge this is a trap right?"

"Yup" Dean said matter of factly. You turned your head to look at Sam when he asked "And we're just gonna walk right into it?" "Guns blazing" you answered and saw Dean glance your way in the mirror. "Well Y/N's with me, Sam?" Sam of course said "You know it"

------

You drove through the night and stopped a few miles shy of where Abaddon wanted to meet so all of you could be as well prepared as possible. The place was completely abandoned. Dean gave voice to your thoughts when he asked "What the hell happened here?" "A local chemical plant sprang a leak years ago. They evacuated three square blocks. Guess it's still contaminated"

"Wait? So this whole place is poison?" you asked, a little worried. "Yeah" Sam replied and you laughed when you saw Dean's hand move to cover his crotch "That's not gonna help" Sam told him with a sigh. Dean realized you'd seen him and shrugged "It doesn't hurt"

One thing you'd gotten used to was that when you hunted with them both they had a habit of keeping you between them when they could. You weren't sure if it was on purpose or not. The three of you walked further into the town then heard a slam coming from an old diner that caused you and Sam to pull your guns. Dean nodded so you covered Sam while he kicked the door in.

"Clear" you and Dean went in behind him so you kept an eye on the kitchen to make sure there was no surprises while Dean untied Irv and who had to be Tracy. You glanced back when he said Abaddon had been torturing hunters to get information on Sam and Dean. If you hadn't been with them she might have gotten her claws on you.

Dean gave Irv a shot of holy water while Sam gave one to Tracy who rolled her eyes "Happy?" she was slinging more aggression towards Sam than you would've liked but now wasn't the time. Irv nodded to you when Dean untied him "Y/N, good to see ya" "Yeah" you said then once again Tracy got mouthy with Sam when he introduced himself. You knew the look you had when Irv quickly explained "She's new. We worked a shifter job in Sacramento together. Smart but got a mouth on her" She scoffed so you clicked your tongue "Honey we ain't got time for whatever you got going on. We need to gear up and clear out" Dean tilted his head towards you "What she said"

------

You were helping Dean lay out every weapon you'd grabbed. "We got jesus juice, devil's trap bullets shoot a demon with them and put em on lockdown" He explained and you spun an angel blade in your hand "Angel blades work"

Irv took a gun loaded with Devil's trap bullets about the time Sam said "They're coming" "Good" Dean said handing you a vial of holy water. "They've got assault rifles" Sam added and you cursed under your breath "Ok, less good"

Irv looked at Dean "So, what's the play?" Dean looked at you "Give me your phone" you handed it over without question and watched him record a voice memo of himself saying "COME AND GET IT YOU DICKS" and knew his plan. You grabbed one of the cake trays and drug it over in front of him "Prop it up here" he did as you said then looked between everyone else. "Let's go"

------

All of you made it out behind the cafe so Dean looked around "We got to flank seal team douche in there so uh Irv, you and me will go left. Sam, you Y/N and Tracy go right" "Ok let's move" Sam said and reached for Tracy's arm but she shoved him back "Don't touch me" "What is your problem?" you asked feeling Dean grab you around the waist with one arm to hold you in place while he repeated the question.

Tracy's eyes never moved off of Sam "My family's dead because of him" "What?" Sam asked and in that moment you could've knocked Tracy flat just for the guilt in his eyes. She looked back at you then at Dean before saying "I watched a demon slaughter my parents and the whole time it talked about how it was celebrating how some dumb kid let Lucifer out of his cage" you looked over your shoulder at Dean and he slid his arm from around you. "Ok we got to move. Y/N you go with Sam and Irv, Tracy with me" you didn't really want to leave her with Dean in case it became a your brother did this to my people so I'm gonna do this to you type of thing but it wasn't like you were in a position to start an argument. You simply nodded and tapped Sam's shoulder "Let's go"

------

You were walking close to Sam gripping your gun and trying to keep an eye out, He had the demon blade in his hand and Irv was behind you. "Sam you copacetic?" Irv asked and Sam nodded "I'm good" Irv glanced at you then said "Good. Give me that toothpick, grab Y/N then you two get Dean and Tracy and get the hell out of here" "What?" you asked in shock and Irv explained "I'm going in there alone. I'll buy you as much time as I can"

"Irv, that's death" Sam glanced at you for help but you didn't know what to say at a friend basically asking for the two of you to be ok with him killing himself. Irv looked ashamed when he finally spoke "Yeah, well it's what I got coming..It's my fault. I was in some dive and I was sloppy and lonely" Sam glanced at you as Irv continued "And I met some girl and the next thing you know, I'm strapped to some bed and she's twisting things that ain't supposed to be twisted" "She who?" Sam questioned but you had a feeling you already knew the answer Irv saying "Abaddon" just confirmed you were right.

Irv's voice broke when he said "I gave em up. Pete,Tracy,even you Y/N. I gave em all up. So Sam you hand me that blade and you let me do what I got to do or so help me" but he had moved to the point his back wasn't blocked by any building and a shot rang out a second before Irv fell. Sam instinctively pushed you back and pulled his gun. You nodded that you were ok then you both leaned out to return fire then make a break for the diner that was across the street.

You fell in behind Sam and looked up to see one of the demon's holding you at gunpoint "Boo"

He snatched you to your feet and Sam dove for him with the demon blade but another demon popped up and knocked Sam sideways then both of you were thrown over the counter. You scrambled to your feet again about the time the third demon walked around the corner and smiled "Cool. I didn't miss the best part"

------

Safe to say you and Sam were getting your asses handed to you. He had his head slammed into a wall and you thought he was unconscious then suddenly his eyes glowed blue and he looked at "GET DOWN" "Bout time you pop up" you muttered diving back behind the counter and tucking yourself into the smallest ball possible as Ezekiel's wings shown on the wall of the diner.

You stayed in that position until the door of the diner opened and Dean called your name. He let out a visible breath when you popped up. "Fuck don't hide again!" "He told me to!" you argued pointing at Ezekiel who was stabbing the last demon in the head with the demon blade. "They were going to kill him and her Dean" "Ezekiel?" Dean asked and you nodded. "What the hell did you do?" Dean pushed and Ezekiel turned to face him "I was protecting your brother and Y/N. I thought that was what you wanted" "Yeah of course, Thank you we're just still getting used to all this" you cut in and Ezekiel looked around "As am I" "Sam's ok?' you asked and Ezekiel explained that he had been knocked unconscious and in a way still was and wouldn't remember what happened. "So what the hell am I supposed to tell him when he comes to?" Dean asked and Ezekiel held the demon blade out "Which was why I used the knife"

"Right, smart" Dean took the blade then looked at you when Ezekiel spoke "You are troubled still" Dean turned back towards him "Yeah it's just that uh. Yeah this is on me. I was the one who talked Sam out of boarding up hell so every demon deal, every person they kill you're looking at the person who let it happen" "Dean" you tried but he wouldn't even look at you. "You were protecting your brother" Ezekiel offered then continued "I am in Sam's head. Everything he knows I know. and I know that what you did you did out of love"

Dean scoffed "Look Zeke, I'm gonna call you Zeke. I'm not really with the whole uh love and well love" you were standing there looking between the two of them when Ezekiel said "but it is why I said yes" "Yeah and if that goes sideways that's on me too" you finally snapped at Dean "PLEASE STOP HATING YOURSELF FOR FIVE SECONDS"

They both looked a little startled so you took a breath and said "We're trusting you Ezekiel" Dean finally shook himself out the shock of you hollering at him to say "and I just hope you're one of the good guys" "I am" Ezekiel said then added "But I suppose that's what a bad guy would say...Dean Winchester you are going the right thing" you took a deep breath and look at Ezekiel "How about letting Sam take back control? me and Dean will clean up before he wakes up" Ezekiel nodded then walked over to where Sam had been knocked out and sat back.

------

Once his head drooped over you moved to help Dean load the weapons back into the bag. Neither of you spoke until Sam started to stir.

When he groaned you made it to his side first "Sam?" "Sammy?" Dean asked helping Sam to his feet. Sam looked at you "What the hell happened?" you shrugged "You took a shot to the head, I was about to be the pinata for these asshats before Dean decided to slide in and save our asses"

Sam looked at Dean "You killed three demons, alone?" Dean shrugged "Took them by surprise. Got a little messy, I got a little lucky oh and I'm awesome so there's that" Sam looked around and you smirked when he said "You are pretty damn awesome"

You heard an engine roll up and looked out the window to see Tracy roll up in baby and looked back at Dean "She gets to drive baby and I don't?" Dean tried to explain but you simply grabbed the weapons as the three of you headed outside.

------

Tracy looked at Sam "You good?" "Yeah, more or less" and you smiled when her reply was "Good." She chunked the keys to Dean "I got everything but guess I'm late to the party" "Lucky you" you muttered and walked around to get in behind Sam as Dean said "Let's blow this toxic dump. Burgers and silkwood showers on me"

------

After you dropped Tracy off at one of her friend's houses you and the boys got back on the road. You hadn't really said much to either of them. You were thinking about Ezekiel and if he truly was a good guy. Sam was used to the way you'd get quiet sometimes but Dean had looked in the mirror about a dozen times before you finally said "Speak Dean" he shrugged "You pissed at me?"

You knew you had to look as confused as you felt so he clarified "Tracy driving baby?" you laughed "Naw if you wanted to let me drive her you would" and shrugged he looked a bit hurt so you winked at him to let him know you weren't upset about that. 

------

Twenty miles from Lebanon Dean decided to stop to get Kevin some food. You were sitting in the backseat with your head leaned back while Sam checked his emails.

You glanced up when the door closest to you opened and was surprised to see Dean holding the car keys out to you "I really don't want you killing me in my sleep" you grinned and snatched them from him not risking him changing his mind.

-------

When you pulled up to the bunker and killed the engine you looked back at Dean who was watching you and smiled "Thank you" he took the keys that you were holding out and nodded "Wait, you're still staying around right?" you didn't stop to think Sam hadn't heard that conversation between you and Dean before he said "What?" you shook your head and climbed out the car "Don't worry about it Sam I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

-------

Kevin was nowhere to be found and considering Crowley killed his mom the three of you ran to the armory.

Crowley was beat up but at least not dead and neither was Kevin. "Who worked you over?" Sam asked. Crowley looked at you then said "Martin Hayward and Brandon Favors" "They did this?" you asked but he shook his head "No they're demons. Your boys wanted names, I'm giving names. They're underperformers. Spike them, You're doing me a favor"

Dean smirked "Wow, you break easy" Crowley rolled his eyes "Please,your little plan to have me stir in my own delicious juices? Pathetic. You want intel, I want things too. Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. Quid pro quo gentlemen" "So these names are freebies?" you asked and Crowley smiled at you "Not at all sweets.You can consider them fair trade for the enjoyment Kevin gave me" "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" You and Dean asked in unison and Crowley quirked an eyebrow at that before saying "He's my new favorite toy. Wind him up and watch him go" You glared at him "You red eyed bastard" then spun around to walk out the armory and find Kevin. You heard Dean tell Sam "Check the names, I'll help Y/N find the kid"

------

You found him packed up and trying to leave "Where are you going?" Dean asked but Kevin kept walking so you stepped in his path. "Y/N you can't keep me locked up here. I'm leaving" "Like hell" Dean said and you cut your eyes at him "Kev we told you not to talk to Crowley he messes with your head" "He said my mom was alive, that if I let him go he'd give her back"

"And you believed him?" Dean asked with a scoff. "He's still in there isn't he?" you moved to put yourself between Dean and Kevin before saying "Kev, Crowley's lying" "And if he's not?" he asked and you were glad for once that Dean answered "Than she's dead, in every way that matters anyways. We're sorry Kevin"

"I know you're dying to bolt. I get it but out that door it's angels and demons and they'd all love to get their hands on a prophet so even with Crowley here..It's still the safest place for you" you took a breath hoping you'd gotten through to the kid. "and we need you" Dean added.

It hurt your heart when Kevin assumed "Because I'm useful?" but you couldn't help but smile when Dean answered "No,because you're family. Same as Y/N. If you don't think after all we've been through together we all wouldn't die for each other man I don't know what to tell you. We're all we got but hey if none of that matters to you then I won't stop you and I won't let Y/N"

Kevin looked at you then slowly nodded "Ok" you cut your eyes at Dean "I'm gonna get him to his room then I'll come find you and Sam" 

-------

You walked into the library and heard Dean telling Sam "You have helped a lot more people than you've hurt" and guessed it was due to what Tracy said so you stepped further in and Dean waved you over and sat a glass of whiskey in front of you. 

You took it then sat down next to Sam. Dean looked back at him then said "All of that was then" he held up his glass so you did the same and bumped Sam's shoulder so he'd join in when Dean said "Here's to now"

You clicked your glasses against theirs then took a sip. "You both ready for it?" Sam asked so you looked at Dean who questioned "Ready for what?" "Fallens angels, Abaddon. Cas losing his halo, Crowley living in our basement"

You half laughed "Dean you invited me to move into a freakin sitcom" Dean shrugged "At least you have company?" Then turned his attention to Sam "What about you? How's the engine running?" 

Sam looked between the two of you before saying "Honestly? I feel better than I have in a long time. I know it's crazy out there but I look around here and I see friends and family. I'm happier than I've been in forever. It's just things are good" Dean met your eyes and nodded "Never better" 

------

Sam had already headed to bed and Dean went to check in on Kevin. You knew you wouldn't wind down for a while so you collected the books Kevin had pulled about the knights of hell and laid them out across one of the tables in the library. 

You poured yourself another glass of whiskey then sat down. You were halfway through the first book when Dean cleared his throat and you glanced up to see him leaning against the doorway "I figured you went to bed" you said and held the bottle out. He took it then sat across from you "I figured you did too"

He poured a glass then reached for one of the books so you slid it across to him. The two of you read in silence for a few minutes before he called your name. You glanced up "Yeah?" "What was that about?" You weren't exactly sure what he meant so you asked "What was what about?"

He closed the book and for once there was no humor in his face when he asked "You yelling at me about not hating myself for five minutes?" Oh that was what he meant. You finally answered "You're very self deprecating Dean even worse than Sam. I can't stand it" he nodded but still pushed "Why?"

You sighed and laid the book down pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and trying to get the words right before you spoke them "You're a good man Dean. You damn near raised Sam, you have saved so many people. You have a good heart and even when you fuck up it's due to good intentions and don't start about the road to hell being paved with good intentions you know what I mean. When it comes down to it there's no one else I'd rather have to back me in a fight or as a friend" the corner of his lips ticked up in a small smirk "um thanks?" You shrugged "It's the truth. Now let's finish with these books we're currently on then I think we should head to bed" "Yours or mine?" He teased with a smirk but you knew the best way to handle Dean was to give his own medicine right back to him so you quickly fired back "Oh honey I just don't think you could handle me"  and laughed at the look on his face "Yeah I can definitely see why Sam likes having you around" "oh and you don't like having me around not even in the least?" You asked and and he rolled his eyes then pushed the book you'd been reading back at you "Read your book Y/N" 

You turned your attention back to the book but noticed the way he kept glancing your way for the next half hour. When you finally closed your book to head to bed you stood and stretched "See you in the morning?" He nodded "I'll be the best looking one" you shook your head with a smile then headed to your room.

Tags: @akshi8278 @facadeformyrealblog

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fic #always be yours

[arse-crack-thistle]

gifts

rwrb and the five love languages | part two

in which june struggles to have a nice valentine’s date with nora

June never expected to care this much about a stupid holiday like Valentine’s Day, but here she is, practically renovating the apartment to give her girlfriend a perfect night. She strings LED lights around the entire living room ceiling and uses Command hooks to drape the sheer, white Ikea curtains she bought on sale months ago in preparation for this. The lights glow pink through the curtains, making the usually neutral-toned living room appear like Aphrodite’s palace. June’s moved the coffee table into her room and replaced it with a fluffy blanket and a picnic set-up to rival TikTok lesbians.  All she needs now is Nora, if only she weren’t stuck at school.

The texts say, Will be late! Data mining for the gods! [Monet X Change gif] I want to be home with you though. Will bring noodles! And chocolate! Scratch that, I ate the chocolate. Sorry.

June knows she shouldn’t be annoyed because Nora has no idea what she’s coming home to. She also knows who she got into a relationship with—a brilliant mind that’s constantly moving parsecs a minute and has a hard time communicating her feelings. June has to remind herself that Nora loves her even if she doesn’t always show it.

That’s what tonight is for. It’ll give them time to slow down and just be together. Break the routine. Talk or not talk. She doesn’t expect it to be mushy or obnoxious—June isn’t a super, flowery romantic herself—but she does want another sentimental moment to hold onto forever.

Like the night of the 2020 election over a year ago. After Alex and Henry slipped away and everyone else was celebrating in their own groups, Nora pulled June into a storage closet at the venue and kissed her point blank, leaving no questions in her mind that their dabbles the months before meant something more than spectacular.

Or like six months ago when Nora asked her if she wanted to move in with her. She didn’t do anything particularly special, but she slammed her laptop shut while June was throwing on one of her sweatshirts and asked her to stay—to take the second bedroom because Nora needs space sometimes—but to stay with her because she was her favorite person. June answered with a happy “yes,” and Nora got up and kissed her. They didn’t talk much more about it; June just packed up her room at the White House and let the world think they were very best friends.

June pours a glass of wine and waits on the couch, flipping through social media. A few hours ago, her brother posted a picture from the Valentine’s gala he and Henry threw for the London queer youth center. Alex, Henry, Bea, Catherine, and even Philip and Martha hold champagne flutes with cheeky smiles on their faces. The POTUS account has a sweet yet posed picture of her mother and Leo. She likes everything she sees, from the various celebrities she follows to the photos she’s tagged in by fans. The time on her phone reminds her Nora’s now over an hour late.

She texts her, Home soon?

Ten minutes later her phone dings. Need more time. Almost done!

You are aware it’s Valentine’s, yes? And that we had plans?

Yes!!!! But flexible plans, right? Not like we can’t eat noodles and make out later. Will leave soon though. Promise.

I got food covered. Just get home please.

June sighs. She thought she made it clear this morning that they deserved a night with no distractions. God, they need to talk; she’s afraid to, but nothing will get better if she doesn’t say anything and if they don’t try.

The charcuterie board spread she copied off of Pinterest has been sitting out for a while so she moves it from the floor to the fridge. “Soon” for Nora could mean an hour. Empty coffee mugs line the sink. An open pack of weed gummies sits on the counter, hardening. Binders of paperwork and schoolwork collect on the kitchen table. There’s so much Nora in here. June redecorated the living room and kitchen when she moved in, but Nora’s managed to touch everything.

She smiles. If this were Alex, she’d be pissed at the mess, but it’s Nora. The beautiful, erratic mess that is Nora. The girl who can have four different shows on at once and can still get shit done. The girl who always burns pancakes when she tries to cook breakfast for June. The girl who never fails to kiss her first.

June won’t lose her. So she sits down on the floor, runs her fingers over the fleece, and waits. And drinks more wine.

Sometime later, when a key turns in the lock, she downs the last sip in her glass and sets it down. Some old love songs play from her phone, the ones she and Nora love to make fun of. She hears her girlfriend curse when her key gets stuck, and then she bursts through the door and catches herself before she could slip on the hardwood.

“I know you said you got food covered, but I got noodles any—Whoa! You did all of this?” Nora walks into the living room with takeout bags in her hands and stares, mesmerized, at the ceiling. Her contacts must’ve been bothering her because she has on her back-up glasses.

“Hi. Happy Valentine’s Day,” June says and reaches for Nora’s hand to pull her down.

“I’m sorry, June. I had no idea. I thought we both hated this holiday, so tonight wasn’t that big of a deal. But this—this is beautiful,” Nora says, having a hard time meeting June’s eyes.

“Thanks.” June rubs Nora’s hand with her thumb. “And this isn’t really about the holiday. I just wanted to give something nice to you—to us—just us. With no distractions.”

The strings from “At Last” by Etta James play from the phone. The curtains billow from the air blowing out the vent. As much as she hates to ruin the moment, June has to start the conversation.

But Nora takes a deep breath and talks first. “I know I’m a bit all over the place but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I just have a lot going on.”

“I know, but sometimes it feels like you don’t care about us as much as I do. It feels like an afterthought to you,” June says.

“That’s not true, June! Come on! You know me.” She grabs June’s other hand and squeezes.

She squeezes back. “You don’t act with feelings in mind, but I know you have them. And I know it’s hard for you, but I need you to share them with me more. I need a reminder that you care every once in a while.”

Nora’s quiet. She uses her arm to wipe her eyes, knocking her glasses off.  “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

June’s chest collapses. She wraps Nora up in her arms. “I’m sorry, Nor. I don’t mean you’re not enough for me. I love you so much. I—”

“No, I understand. I just—I need help with that. I need you to tell me when you need more—maybe not after the fact like now but—”

June laughs and pulls away. “You’re right. I have a stewing problem. I just assume you’ll eventually get it.”

“Yeah, don’t assume that.” Nora laughs too—the big kind that shows all of her teeth. “Reign me in when I’ve been off for too long. And know it’s not on purpose. I’m seriously spiraling in my own head the majority of the time.”

“Ha! And a hot head it is too.”

They both pause and look into each other’s eyes. And bust out into laughing fits. June makes a fart sound with her mouth, and Nora tackles her. They rumble around on the blanket for about forty seconds before June’s wine glass tips over and surprisingly bounces instead of shattering.

The girls take that as an opportunity to stop and pour some more glasses of wine. Nora preps the takeout while June brings the charcuterie board back to the indoor picnic. Nora changes the music to some weird techno shit, but June snatches the phone. They compromise with One Direction, which makes no sense since 1. June only knows their last album and 2. Nora definitely remembers the story of June turning down the advances of one Niall Horan when she did the daytime talk show circuit after her book deal was announced.

Either way, they stuff their faces and end up cuddled on the floor.

Nora interrupts the moment. “Before we get to sexy time—"

“Jesus Christ.”

“I just wanted to give you something. I would’ve saved it for your birthday, but I can get you something else.” She pops up from the floor and jogs to her bedroom. When she reemerges, she’s carrying a bunched-up blanket. “I didn’t have time to properly wrap it because—you know, you weren’t going to get it yet—although, it probably wouldn’t’ve been wrapped later either—but anyways, happy Valentine’s Day.”

She crouches down and hands over the present. She smiles and bops up and down in anticipation. June unwraps the blanket and sees a book.

It’s one of those photobooks you can get at Walgreens, and on the cover, it reads, “Catalina June Claremont-Diaz and Nora Elizabeth Holleran are NOT good friends…” June flips it over. “They’re fucking GIRLFRIENDS!” Inside is page after page of pictures as early as the day they first met and as recent as New Year’s Eve a month ago. A lot of candid pics they take of each other—Nora’s favorites. A lot of sleepy, cuddle pics—June’s favorites. It’s so perfect.

“Nora—this is—wow.” She feels the tears coming. No one has given her anything like this before.

“I’ll be better—”

“So will I.”

“No matter where my head’s at, I’m always thinking of you—just 50 million other things as well,” Nora says and cups her chin.

June leans in. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nora kisses her, and everything wound up in June relaxes. Her body is so warm. “Best Song Ever” starts playing.

Cue sexy time.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part three, part four, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

so this could be for quality time or gifts, but i decided to go with gifts since i had no other ideas for it! it’s definitely not my love language (quality time for the win!) but i had to write something lol. so i made it sapphic bc everything gay is better! <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

#rwrb #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #nora x june #nora and june #my writing #rwrb fest #rwrbromanceweek #rwrb fanfic #fanfic #wlw #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #pez okonjo #princess bea #stick up his arse philip #president ellen claremont #oscar diaz #rafael luna #zahra bankston #firstprince #bi disaster #my gay bean #queer lit #queer books #queer fic #love languages #gifts

[augustwxllow]

part three

maybe this will be the last instalment maybe it won’t be idk, we’ll both find out at the end together

henry’s pov

henry watched as the doctor scrambled for the paddles and the nurse started doing chest compressions on alex

he didn’t know if the doctors knew he was there but soon they probably would if he sobbed loudly

“charging... clear!”

the anaesthesiologist took the oxygen tube, which connected to the machine, out of henry’s mouth and the nurse removed her hands just in time as the shock was delivered

both the nurse and doctor, as well as henry, looked at the heart monitor

no change

the nurse immediately went back to doing chest compressions as the doctor waited for the paddles to recharge

“charging... clear!”

it was a routine that went on for two minutes and henry started to panic

he felt his hands fidgeting with the strap across his chest

henry caught attention of the doctor who took a step back and shook his head at the nurse

the nurse didn’t stop but instead nudged her head towards henry’s direction

henry’s panic only became worse when the doctor turned around and saw him and went wide eyed

the doctor quickly turned back to look at his patient and then back at henry and then grabbed the paddles immediately

“charging... clear!”

no change happened but he looked at the nurse

“go find me as much ice as you can and bring it here. im not having the death of the first son of the united states on my hands”

the nurse immediately ran out and almost came back immediately with two buckets and placed it around alex’s head

henry’s panic kept rising as he watched the clock

“come on love. don’t do this to me” henry whispered

“don’t leave me”

“charging... clear!”

no change

the nurse resumed compressions

“it’s almost four minutes doctor”

henry thought he squeaked at that and he knew he did when the nurse looked at him

henry knew not all medical shows weren’t accurate that didn’t mean he didn’t research stuff afterwards

but henry knew that after four minutes there would be permanent brain damage

“please love. i love you. please” henry begged one last time

henry watched as the doctor charged the paddles

“history, huh? bet we could make some” henry whispered to himself

henry looked down at his feet as he listened to the doctor deliver the last shock which would help prevent permanent brain damage

that sound

the sound of reassurance

the sound of life

the sound of henry’s fiancé being here

henry looked up and saw the heart monitor beeping at a normal rhythm and watched as the doctor quickly put the paddles away and worked on fixing alex’s shoulder

“fucking hell alex you dramatic asshole” henry let out in a shaky breath

henry watched as the doctor finished up with tying the wound up without the worry of alex would flatline again

henry stayed where he was

he didn’t think he could move after he watched alex laying lifeless on the table for nearly four minutes

suddenly the sound of a door opening caught henry’s attention

he turned around and saw the doctor there looking at him

“apologies your royal highness. im sorry you had to witness that”

henry held back the urge to roll his eyes

“the first son is in a stable condition and hopefully he will make a full recovery. we will have to keep him here for awhile to see if there is any brain damage due the amount of time he was deprived of oxygen”

henry just nodded and the doctor looked at him

“i know im not to speak to like this in front of a royal but he is one lucky bastard”

henry smiled at that and laughed smally

“that he is” henry replied

the doctor nodded and moved his head in the direction of the exit and showed him to alex’s private room

when the doctor reached it with henry he turned around when he heard his sister yell out his name

“you do rather need to be quiet in places like this bea”

“im sorry but i did call out for you four times but your brain was clearly preoccupied with the thoughts of your fiancé being okay”

henry sucked in a breath as the doctor looked at him

“i will not speak a word” he said simply as he held the door open for bea and himself

the two of them stepped in and bea handed him a bag with some clothes in it

“please do get changed so we can burn that uniform. i don’t want to see it again”

“when did you have time to get the clothes?”

“well when you originally told me to go get them i went downstairs and got shaan and zahra and then when i was waiting out there i got bored so i decided to go home and get you some clothes and eat your hidden stash of jaffa cakes”

“excuse me?”

“oh hush hush. just get out of that hideous thing”

henry listened to his sister and went into the bathroom and stopped out of the uniform

“you know what have a shower too” bea called out

henry did do that because he needed something to clear his thoughts before he sat down beside alex’s bed for the next god knows how many days waiting for him to wake up

henry felt clean when he stepped out of the shower and felt comfortable when he pulled out his sweatpants and the alex’s shirt

when henry stepped out, he saw bea had taken occupant of the lounge as she channel surfed so it left henry with the chair next to alex’s hand no doubt bea doing it on purpose

henry sat down and took hold of alex’s hand just as zahra and shaan burst into the room

“shhhh!” bea scolded

shaan shot bea a look but zahra’s eyes were focused on the rise and fall of alex’s chest

“i have to call ellen” zahra stepped out of the room, shaan not far behind

shaan and zahra never came back in and henry could only presume they were standing outside guarding the door

it had been hours since henry last ate and he was starting to get hungry but as if bea knew she left and immediately came back with food for henry

“you can go home bea. i will be quite alright” henry told her as he ate a bit of whatever she got him

“so who proposed to who?”

henry choked

“what?”

“did you propose to alex, or did alex propose to you?”

“it is none of your concern” he told his sister simply

“oh dearest brother, how could possibly think i would not want the juicy details?”

“i really do not think you would want to know bea” he gave her a look

she did not deserve to know who proposed to who it was henry of course as if she couldn’t tell by the band that was around alex’s finger

she also didn’t deserve to know the aftermath either henry hid a smile after remembering that did more than just two rounds after alex said yes

bea just gave him a disappointed look

“you’re no fun baby brother”

henry smiled at that and finished off whatever he was eating and just looked at the rise and fall of alex’s chest

henry had no idea how many days had passed

two???

three???

he didn’t know and his heart began to sink at the thought he would recover

bea had persuaded henry to go home multiple times but he refused there was no home if alec wasn’t there

ellen had flown in two nights ago with june and nora in tow

they’d all stayed for a bit and nora grinned when she saw the band on alex’s finger and june freaked out and ellen just gave henry a kiss

henry didn’t realise how welcoming they claremont’s had let them into their arms nora was a given since she was dating june

what surprised him most is when his nan had sent flowers to alex though when he looked at the card he could tell they were not from her as the words were too kind for her bitter heart about henry’s love for alex

henry was sitting in one of the chairs when he heard someone enter the room. he turned around and saw his brother standing there

“phillip?”

“i just wanted to pass on my congratulations to you and alex”

“im sure you don’t mean that” henry scoffed

“i know i may not approve of it like nan does not but bea may have slapped some sense into me the other night”

henry took notice of the bright red handprint which cover his brother’s cheek and he held back a laugh

“oh... well um thank you i suppose”

awkward silence sat between the two of them and henry wished he would leave already

“just because i do not approve of it-”

“phillip” henry gritted out

“doesn’t mean i shouldn’t stop you from being happy”

“bea made you say that didn’t she” henry said after a moment

“no. i may have had martha slap some sense to me too” he commented as he pointed to his other cheek

at that henry did laugh

“i’m sorry if i haven’t been the best of brothers but hopefully some time in the near future we could become better”

henry sat there for a moment and thought bullshit like that would happen

“i’d like that” henry said simply i would very much not like that

not long after henry said that phillip left and bea entered the room

“did you really slap phillip?”

“yes and it felt bloody good to do so” she beamed

henry laughed at his sister

“mum wants to come to visit but she can’t bring herself to. she thinks it’s her fault since the assassination attempt was on you because she made you go out to the research facility”

“mum can come. im not mad at her or hurt by her if that’s what she thinks”

bea nodded at her brother and then left the room silently

henry let out a sigh and bea entered the room again

“also, not the best time but there are a whole bunch of music playlists people have been making on spotify-”

“bea” henry groaned

“you need to listen to them. the playlist all have to do with you two and i don’t know whilst you’re waiting for your fiancé to wake up maybe you could pick out a song for your wedding”

“you need to stop saying it like that”

“i will ask alex, as soon as he wakes up, who proposed to who, watch me”

bea left the room again and it was just henry and alex

alex and henry

just the two of them like it was and how it should be

stealing moments together

but not like this

this was pain and torture

“please love. come back to me” henry said as he squeezed alex’s hand

not long after henry released his grip, the other hand twitched and henry felt his heart surge up and almost go through his mouth screw the exaggeration

henry looked at him and the heart monitor started to increase slightly but died down when alex’s eyes opened

“love?”

alex gave him a quizzical look and henry almost burst into tears

he didn’t like that look

not one bit

he hated himself for having to witness that look

the look of ‘who are you?’

#im so evil for giving another cliffhanger #i promise you though part four will be the last one #i swear on my life #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #bea fox mountchristen windsor #phillip fox mountchristen windsor #zahra bankston #shaan srivastava #red white and royal blue headcanon #red white and royal blue #rwarb headcanon #rwarb #rwrb #casey mcquiston

[fanfics4all]

Angels, Demons

Request: Yes / No  can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 please?? Anon

Requests are open, but please read this! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6009

Warnings: Spencer getting shot, reader getting shot, criminal minds stuff, ya know the drill. 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your NickName

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“So, we get Henry to bed, and, you know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with Mommy and Daddy, and… you guys know the rest.” JJ said while rolling her eyes. Spencer walked up to us along with Alex and I smiled at him. Spencer and I have been dating for a few years now and he was the love of my life. 

“Ah, trying to dust off the old cobwebs.” Morgan said with a smirk. 

“Inappropriate!” Garcia whisper-yelled and smacked him in the arm. 

“What?” He asked with a laugh. 

“Seriously, though, how long has it been?” She asked. 

“Too long.” JJ said with the most serious face I’ve seen. 

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, changing the subject. 

“Not yet.” I answered. 

“Hotch just said to drop everything and get back here.” Rossi said. 

“You need some private adult time.” Garcia said. 

“Spencer and I can watch Henry for you guys if you want.” I offered, Spencer nodded in agreement. 

“You two should go to Mexico. Or the Maldives, maybe.” Garcia said. 

“Cruz?” JJ asked looking behind us. 

“Yes! Exactly. A cruise would be perfect.” Garcia said. 

“No, no, no. Matt Cruz.” She said motioning behind us. We all looked behind and saw Cruz and Hotch walking towards the round table room. 

“Let’s get started.” Hotch said. We all got up and followed. We got int the room before them and sat down quickly. 

“How are those ribs?” Cruz asked JJ. 

“Still hurts when I laugh. You?” She asked. 

“The scars impress the ladies.” He said. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Garcia, but I took the liberty of having the much less talented version of you in my office load the case details.” He said taking the remote from Garcia. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, no problem.” She said and sat down. 

“A good friend of mine, Sheriff Peter Coleman, down in Briscoe County, Texas, reached out to me about a possible case. He’s a former Texas ranger, he’s a good guy.” Cruz said. 

“He read about our work on the Silencer case two years ago. He asked for a consult.” Hotch said. 

“What do we have?” Alex asked. 

“Abigail Jones. Prostitute. She was found in a dumpster last night.” He said. 

“What’s that on her wrists?” I asked. 

“It’s, uh… it’s…” Cruz said while having trouble with the remote. 

“Uh, would you mind?” He asked Garcia. 

“Thank you, Jesus, Buddha, and Allah.” Garcia said quickly, taking the remote from him and standing up. 

“I like to cover my bases. You have to squeeze it.” She said and the pictures zoomed in. 

“Rope burns.” Rossi said. 

“Which goes hand in hand with the lacerations on her back.” Cruz said. 

“There’s also a gunshot wound to the back of her head, execution style.” JJ said. 

“It’s a conflict in M.O. The cutting and restraints points to sexual sadism, but the gunshot wound ends the torture too quickly for a sadist.” Spencer said. 

“Is she the only victim?” I asked. 

“There;s Hannah Kelly, another prostitute, killed six months ago, dumped one jurisdiction over.” Cruz said. 

“Forensic countermeasure. Smart enough to separate the victims so we won’t tie them together.” Alex said. 

“And practical, too. The body was left in hooker row, where they pick up their johns, which brings us to our first victim, Lucas Wagner. Killed eleven months ago. Multiple arrests for soliciting a prostitute. He was found outside of a crack house where some of them lived.” Cruz said. 

“He takes a paying customer and drops them where the girls live. That sends a message that nobody’s safe.” Morgan said. 

“Tell Sheriff Coleman we’re on our way.” Hotch told Cruz and we started collecting our things. We all got our go-bags and hopped onto the jet. We all were looking through the case files. 

“Ballistics matched one gun to all three shootings. So, the same unsub killed one John and two prostitutes.” JJ said. 

“At least he keeps it in the family.” Rossi said. 

“Maybe the John was a friend of the unsub, someone he picked up prostitutes with.” Alex said. 

“Well, once he kills his friend, it makes it easier to kill the prostitutes.” Morgan said. 

“That would explain why there’s no sexual assault on the victims. It’s not about rape for this unsub, it’s about toture.” Spencer said. 

“I mean, that fits, kind of, but it just feels like we’re missing something.” I said with a sigh. 

“What we’re missing is whether this guy’s a sadist or not. A gunshot to the back of the head throws everything off.” Rossi said. 

“We’re presuming he’s using the gun to end things, but it could be part of the psychological toture.” Hotch said. 

“I’m gonna cut you, and if you flinch, bang.” Spencer said. 

“Okay, so let’s go with that for a second. There were five cuts on Lucas Wagner, nine on Hannah, twelve on Abigail. He’s escalating his torture. Sadists definitely do that.” I said. 

“And they get deeper with each victim.” Alex added. 

“That’s right. The first cuts were experimental in nature, and the latter ones were about maximum infliction of pain.” Spencer said. 

“What if this is vigilantism? He’s punishing theses woman and their Johns to clean up the streets.” Rossi suggested. 

“But then why take so long to do it? Three victims in eleven months? That’s a substantial cooling-off period.” I said. 

“Y/N, Morgan, and Reid talk to anyone working the streets last night and see if they saw something useful. Dave and Blake, go to the coroner’s office, see what you can learn there, and JJ and I will go to the station with the Sheriff and start interviewing friends and family.” Hotch ordered. When we landed we settled in and immediately got out in the field. Morgan, Spencer, and I went to the station with the rest of the team first and we had an officer come with us. 

“Not too many spots for working girls to go to, so this’ll be your best shot.” He said as we got out of the car. 

“And you turn a blind eye to what goes on in here?” Spencer asked. 

“Agent, we only got one bar around here. Monday night’s karaoke, Tuesday’s line dancing, and the girls are discreet. Can hardly tell the professionals from the locals who just want to get their drink on. Not to mention, we shut this place down, then what?” He answered. 

“The devil you know kind of thing.” Morgan said. 

“Exactly.” The officer said. We walked into the bar and just about all eyes were on us. 

“Deputy.” The woman at the bar greeted. 

“Dinah, these three are agents from the FBI. You mind answering some questions?” He asked her. 

“Don’t know much, but sure.” She answered. 

“We’re trying to find out more about a woman named Abigail Jones. Did you know her?” Spencer asked placing her photo on the bar. 

“Why ya’ll askin’ about Abby?” A man at the bar asked. 

“When was the last time you saw her?” Spencer asked. 

“Last week. Same bat time, same bat station. She’s alright, ain’t she?” He asked. 

“No, actually, she was killed a couple of nights ago…” I answered. 

“Killed? God almighty.” He said.

“How well did you know her?” I asked. 

“Used to flirt. You know. She always said I couldn’t handle her. She was right. So I’d buy her drinks. She liked when I buy her drinks.” He answered. 

“Was she that kind of girl? Party girl, maybe?” Morgan asked. 

“It was hard to tell when she was loaded or not. I mean, she was always off. Like she had her own song goin’ on in her head.” Dinah answered. 

“Mack the knife.” The blonde girl on the other side of the bar said and we all looked at her. 

“Let me ask you, did Abigail come in often? Was she a regular customer?” Spencer asked as I walked over to the girl. 

“What was that?” I asked. 

“Mack the knife.” She said with a sigh. 

“Was that the song in her head?” I asked confused. 

“No. it was the name of her last… date. You know what I mean?” She answered. 

“I do. Have you ever met Mack the knife?” I asked. 

“No. She told me about him, said he was a good tipper.” She said. 

“Do you know where we might find him?” I asked. She started shaking and I looked over Dinah who was staring at us. 

“Would you prefer if we chat privately?” I asked quietly. 

“I can’t.” She said. 

“Okay.” I said and sat down next to her. 

“Why don’t we just talk then, you don’t have to look at me. Don’t move your head, just keep looking down.” I said quietly and took my card out. 

“I’m just trying to flirt with a pretty girl. And if you don’t mind, could you lean over and take this card from me?” I asked. She leaned over and took it from me. 

“See? I’m not so bad.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Come on, we’re just talking, having some fun, right?” I asked with a smile. 

“Why don’t you show me that pretty smile of yours. And smack me on my shoulder, like maybe I’m trying to get fresh or something, huh?” I said trying to instruct her what to do. 

“No? Yeah? Yeah?” I said with a raise of my brow as she shoved me a little bit. 

“Dirty girl, you wish.” She said with a flirty laugh. 

“Alright, well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Especially when a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone.” I said and she gave a little giggle. 

“It was nice to meet you.” I said with a smile and got up to return to the boys. 

“One last question. Do either of these two people look familiar to you?” Morgan asked as Spencer placed the pictures. 

“The boy looks familiar. Girl I’ve never seen.” Dinah said, shaking her head. 

“Well, thank you for your time. Would you mind if we came back a little later?” Spencer asked, collecting the photos. 

“Oh, anytime. Got nothin’ to hide.” She answered and we went to leave. 

“Sorry I couldn’t help you none.” She added as we left. We called Hotch and JJ, telling them about what we found out. 

The next day we got a call about another victim. All of us got our coffee and started the day. Spencer, Rossi ,and I went to where the body was. We pulled up and they were about to cut the body down. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing!?” Spencer shouted, stopping them. 

“Do not disturb the crime scene.” The Sheriff that came with us said. 

“We took a bunch of pictures just like you ordered.” The other cop said. 

“I ordered you not to touch a damn thing.” He said. 

“We need to look at the crime scene undisturbed. Do you mind not standing there?” I said. 

“He’s escalated his cuts. They’re not only bigger-”

“Cutting was done postmortem. It was the gunshot that killed her.” Spencer said, cutting Rossi off. 

“How can you tell?” An officer asked. 

“Uh, based on the lack of blood flow and scar tissue. If she were alive when this was done, there would be a lot more blood on her back.” Spencer answered. 

“Which means this wasn’t S&M. This was symbolic.” I said. 

“Symbolic of what?” The Sheriff asked. 

“We’re not sure.” Rossi said. 

“Can you guys smell that?” Spencer asked.  

“Lavender.” Rossi said. 

“That doesn’t grow in these parts.” The officer said. 

“It’s mainly around her legs.” Spencer said. 

“Why would he do that?” He asked. 

“Reid, can you look into it? We can’t trust the coroner to follow through.” Rossi said. 

“Yeah.” Spencer said getting up. 

“I can help.” I said following behind him. 

Spencer and I checked out the information, then joined the team to give the profile. Once we were set up we gathered everyone up and was ready to tell them what we’ve learned. 

“We believe the unsub we’re looking for is a white male in his early 30’s. While his M.O. is that of a sadist, we think there’s an underlying pathology of what we call a wound collector.” Hotch said. 

“What’s that?” One of the officers asked. 

“A wound collector is someone who uses a lifetime of sleights, grievance, and wrongs as justification for violence.” Spencer said. 

“Examples can be as large-scale as Hitler scapegoating the jews for the Holocaust, or as common as an abusive husband blaming his wife as an excuse to beat her.” I explained. 

“This unsub is low key, almost submissive in public. He has to be to attract the prostitutes.” Rossi said. 

“But his real nature will be revealed in the safety of isolation. This is the type of man who would anonymously express himself online by raging against how these women are filled with disease and filth, how they deserve what’s coming to them, probably to cover for the rejection of a woman or spouse who’s wronged him.” Spencer said. 

“Which means the unsub probably has a working-class or part-time job. It gives him the time to plan and execute the murders.” JJ said. 

“He’s strong and good with his hands and probably drives a work truck or large vehicle.” Rossi said. 

“This allows him to move the bodies and carry the tools for posing his victims.” Alex said. 

“Tabitha Ryerson tells us he’s losing control. He killed her in her home and then transported her body to the woods so he could mutilate her postmortem. The public nature of the display was a message.” Morgan said. 

“To who?” An officer asked. 

“To us. This is a small town and he knows the FBI is here investigating his crimes. He thinks that he’s showing us that he’s smarter than we are.” I answered. 

“He’s also showing us his wounds. There’s part of him that wants us to stop and punish him for his crimes.” Hotch said as his phone rang. 

“Thank you. Excuse me.” He said answering and walking off. The meeting was now dismissed and we all went off to do our own thing. 

Currently Alex and Rossi were interviewing a man they called Mack the knife. However, it turned out it wasn’t our guy. Spencer and I were still looking into the lavender while all this was going on. 

“I think we got it!” He said, turning to me. 

“What is it?” I asked and he showed me a book. 

“Let’s go tell the team.” I smiled and we walked over to the others. Hotch was talking to one of the victim's sisters when he looked over at us. He came over and Spencer was ready to rattle off the information we found. 

“Guys, I think we know what the lavender on Tabitha Ryerson’s legs is about. Have you ever heard of spikenard?” He asked. 

“Uh, no.” One of the officers answered. 

“It’s perfume. It’s mentioned in the gospels.” Hotch answered. 

“Yes! It’s derived from lavender. It’s what Mary Magdalene used to wash jesus’ feet, which tells us that this unsub’s message is obviously religious in nature.” I said. 

“Preacher Mills, maybe. He came forward to volunteer information.” Morgan said. 

“Well, yesterday he said he’d let us know if he had any more information, but apparently he’s changed his mind.” Hotch said. 

“He fits the profile. He’s morally rigorous, submissive in public.” JJ said. 

“So we’ll put an APB out for him.” One of the cops said with a nod. 

Spencer and Morgan went to the church to see if he might be there. I was here with the rest of the team trying to figure out where he could be, if he wasn’t there. 

“Well I don’t get it, if the preacher had something to do with it, then why was he so helpful?” An officer asked. 

“Unsubs insert themselves into investigations all the time. They enjoy the power and the feeling that they’re smarter than us.” Alex answered. 

“And to keep tabs on the case. He wanted to know how close we were to catching him.” Hotch added and I heard my phone ring. 

“Hey Garcia, whatcha got?” I answered and put her on speaker. 

“I got the backhoe going into the not-so-clean preacher. I haven’t found his present whereabouts yet, but I’m looking at his bank account and I can tell you he doesn’t adhere to the “give all your money to the poor” model.” She said. 

“Any idea where the money’s coming from?” Hotch asked. 

“Not yet. But it’s mostly cash, and we’re talking six figures big.” She answered. 

“You know, maybe it’s sex trafficking. This unsub is able to get prostitutes to let their guard down. They’re somebody he knows.” Alex said. 

“I thought you said our killer was a John.” An officer said. 

“Prostitutes would rat out a JOhn or kill him themselves, but they’d never go against their own pimp.” I said. 

“Garcia, take everything we know about Mills and run it up against pandering and procuring charges. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.” Hotch said. 

“You got it.” She said. She hung up and called us back when she had more information. 

“Did you know the charge of being a pimp, when gussied up, is “procuring and pandering”? And Hotch was right. Preacher Mills is familiar with this charge. Because before he was Justin Mills, he was Gordon Borell, and he was arrested for cutting one of the ladies he employed.” She said. 

“Where did he cut her?” Rossi asked. 

“On the back. When questioned, she said- oh, I’m gonna have to look at kitten videos after this- He was marking his property.” She said. 

“You’re kidding.” The Sheriff said. 

“That’s why he specifically asked me about the wounds on Lucas Wagner. He knew we’d find out about his past.” Hotch said. 

“Hey, Garcia? Why didn’t we find this out until now?” I asked. 

“Because he changed his name when he crossed the border. The Northern border to be exact. Mr. Mill, Nee borell, is from Tees, Alberta. I’ll tell you what those Canadians, They seem so sweet and innocent, but when they go back, they go Darth Vader bad.” She said and I shook my head. I decided it wasn’t the right time to tell her that Darth Vader turned to save his son’s life. 

“So he came here to start over, took on the mantle of the collar as the perfect cover for the sex trade.” Rossi said. 

“No one in this town would question a man of God. But now we got the smoking gun we need on this guy.” The Sheriff said. 

“Garcia, was there an attempted murder charge?” Hotch asked. 

“No. In fact, she said he wanted her to go back out and start working when he was done cutting her.” She answered. 

“He’s not our unsub.” Hotch said. 

We hung up with Garcia and went back to the rest of the team, now that Spencer and Morgan were back. 

“This guy fits to a T. How can we rule him out?” The Sheriff asked. 

“Criminally, pimps follow the same behavioral pattern as drug dealers.” I said with a shrug. 

“Prostitutes are his revenue stream.” JJ said. 

“He would only kill them as a last resort.” Spencer said. 

“Which is why the cutting in Canada was a punishment, not a religious punishment, but a punishment for not doing their jobs.” Alex said. 

“Then he comes here to start over, set up a new shop.” Morgan said. 

“And that’s when somebody found out about his past, used it as a forensic countermeasure to throw us off track by framing him.” I said. 

“That’s why the gir;s kept saying, “They’re” after us. There wasn’t a team of unsubs, but one sadist copying the behavior of another.” Hotch said.

“It would also explain the change with Tabitha, the escalation, the perfume on the feet.” Spencer said. 

“But you said the unsub wanted us to catch him and punish him.” The Sheriff said. 

“What he really wanted was for us to catch the preacher.” Rossi said. 

“So whoever this guy is, he’s fooled all of us, and now we got nothin’ when it comes to the profile.” The Sheriff said. 

“No, that’s not true. The unsub chose Mills for a reason, and Mills can still lead us to the unsub. We’ll have Agent Morgan and the deputies start at his house.” Hotch said and off they went.  We were all trying to figure out where the preacher could be going. So far, nothing. 

“Repeat, I’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner.” An officer over the radio said, which made my ears perk up. 

“Copy, Deputy. We’re on our way.” The Sheriff said to her. 

“We got him.” He said walking up to us. 

“Alright, Blake, Reid, and Y/L/N go with the Sheriff. Dave and I will coordinate the response here.” Hotch ordered and we nodded. We followed behind the Sheriff and got on our way. 

“The preacher’s not answering.” Spencer said as we were on our way. 

“Keep trying, we need to tell him we know he didn’t do this.” Alex said and Spencer went back to calling. Still no answer. 

“He’s been in there a good five minutes now. I haven’t seen any movement yet.” The officer that was at the scene already said as soon as we got out. 

“What about patrons?” I asked. 

“Uh, it’s closed.” She answered. 

“How many entrances?” Alex asked. 

“Uh, two it looks like.” She answered. 

“The question is, is he alone?” Spencer asked. 

“Guys, I’ve got movement. We should move in now, Sheriff.” Another officer said. 

“Actually, we’re better off establishing the perimeter first. We need to open up and line of communication.” Spencer said. 

“Alright, agreed. We need to get around to the-” The Sheriff started, but was cut off by a gunshot, he was down. 

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” One of the officers shouted and we all got down. They started shooting at the window trying to hit the preacher. I saw the Sheriff still alive not far from us and I went to try and pull him to us. The preacher started shooting wherever he could and I was in his line of fire, but I couldn’t just leave the Sheriff there. 

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted and ran out to try and pull me back. 

“Reid!” I heard Morgan shout and I looked back to see Spencer on the ground. I dropped the Sheriff and quickly went to Spencer’s side. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” I shouted, but he was out of it. Morgan ran up and pulled him back. I went with him while JJ and Alex went to try and help the Sheriff. Morgan rested Spencer against a car and I kneeled down next to him. He had been shot in the neck. 

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here.” I whispered. 

“Y/N! We’re going in, you stay with him!” Morgan called and I nodded. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby, the ambulance is on their way.” I whispered. I saw his eyes open for a second and he looked at something, but I was too focused on him to drag my attention away. His eyes shut once again and I was beginning to panic. 

“Hurry! Please!” I shouted. Alex came beside me and looked at him. 

“Ethan! Ethan! You have to keep your eyes open.” She said. She was calling him the wrong name, but now wasn’t the time to correct her. The paramedics finally came and Spencer was being loaded into the ambulance. Alex was on the phone with Cruz as I stared at Spencer, worried and scared. 

“Y/N you should go in the ambulance with him.” JJ said walking up to us, along with Morgan. I just nodded and quickly got in with him, Morgan was joining us since he was a little banged up too. 

“The sound is like a tea kettle. Do you hear it?” Spencer asked with a slight slur. 

“What? Reid.” Morgan asked. 

“Pressure’s dropping.” One of the paramedics said and I swear my heart leaped out of my chest. 

“Pulse is thready. Starting large-bore I.V.” He said. 

“Spencer!” I cried. 

“Reid!” Morgan said worried. 

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.” The woman working on Morgan said to him. 

“You gotta help him, man.” Morgan said to the guy. 

“Spencer, please, you’re stronger than this.” I said gently holding his hand. 

“Stay with us, we’re right here.” Morgan said to him. 

“Spencer, please, stay with us.” I begged. 

We finally made it to the hospital and they took him in right away. I had done to the bathroom to wash my hands and when I came out JJ was there with Alex. 

“Anything yet?” She asked and I shook my head. I took a seat near them and tried to hold back my tears. 

“Spencer would have read like two books by now, maybe three.” JJ said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It should have been me…” I whispered. 

“Or me, or any of us.” JJ said. 

“No. He pushed me out of the way…” I said with tears in my eyes. 

“If he doesn’t make it…” I started, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence. The tears finally falling. 

“He’ll make it.” JJ said. 

“He has to.” Alex said. Garcia walked in and saw us. 

“Hey.” She said walking over and coming to give me a hug. 

“You made it.” JJ said. 

“Yeah, turns out we’re not the only ones connected, he knows somebody with a plane.” She said, trying to keep the mood light. 

“How is he?” She asked. 

“Still in surgery.” Alex answered with a sigh. 

“You all can see Agent Morgan now.” A nurse said to us. 

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d really like to stay here…” I said looking down at my hands. 

“The second you hear anything, call us.” JJ said and I nodded. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” Garcia said and I nodded with a sad smile. 

I’m not sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. All the negative thoughts were running through my head and I couldn’t stop them. 

“Agent.” Someone said and I looked up to see a doctor.

“How is he?” I asked standing up. 

“Incredibly lucky. Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we’ve stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He said and it felt like I could breathe again. I grabbed his things that they gave me and quickly called JJ. 

“Hey, how is he?” She asked. 

“He’s alive. I’m going to see him now.” I said. 

“Great. Okay, thanks Y/N.” She said and hung up. Garcia had met up with me in his room and she was setting up little Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“It’ll be so great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees.” She said. 

“Yeah… The Doctor always makes him smile.” I said with a sad smile.

“It’d be really weird if he wakes up and we’re all just oooh starting at him.” She said, which made me actually laugh a little bit. 

“So, I’m gonna go stand over here.” She said and moved to the window. I gently grabbed his hand and sighed. Garcia had went to go get him some food for when he wakes up. 

“Y/N?” He asked and I looked up to see him awake and I smiled. 

“Spencer! You’re alright.” I said and he looked at the Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“Garcia.” I said before he could ask. He chuckled and I moved to sit at the edge of his bed. 

“When this comes off, I’m gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” He said and I chuckled a bit. 

“A little green makeup and it’ll be the best Halloween costume ever. And I could always go as the Bride of Frankenstein.” I said and he chuckled. 

“You’d look very cute.” He said and closed his eyes. 

“Hey, everyone is fine, don’t worry.” I said gently squeezing his hand. 

“I’m not.” He said with a small smile. 

“Then what is it?” I asked, but before he could answer Garcia walked in. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said with a smile. 

“Look who’s still awake. Can you tell her she can go now, please?” Garcia asked him and motioned her head at me. 

“I’m okay, Y/N. Go help the team.” He said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to leave him… 

“Are you sure?” I asked and he nodded with a smile. 

“They need you, you have to be my fill in.” He joked. 

“Fine.” I chuckled. 

“I love you.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I love you too, now go.” He said and I nodded. 

“Call me if anything changes.” I said to Garcia and she nodded. 

I made my way back to the station. I was kind of in the dark about what was going on. 

“Hey, how’s Dr. Reid?” One of the officers asked as I walked in. 

“He’s awake, he’s gonna be fine.” I answered and made my way to the team.

“That’s good to hear.” He said.  

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Let’s take a car ride. I’ll fill you in.” Rossi said in a quiet voice. 

“JJ, send us the info.” He added as he got up, along with Alex. 

“Will do.” She whispered. The three of us left. 

Apparently Dianh had a son that was being used against her. The cops were corrupt. Luckily we had a suspect so hopefully everything would work out. Rossi and Alex were in the front talking, but I couldn’t seem to pay attention. My mind kept drifting back to Spencer. 

“What the hell?” I heard Rossi say, which snapped me back into reality. They were looking in the mirrors and I looked back to see two cop cars following us. They turned their sirens on and trapped us between them. 

“I thought you said it doesn’t get any worse.” Alex said.

“Until it does.” Rossi said. The two officers got out with their hands on their guns and we just watched in shock. 

“Are they really gonna shoot Federal Agents?” I asked. 

“They’re cops who’d rather die than get locked up. They’re desperate.” Rossi said. 

“She’s coming to you.” He said to Alex.

“Don’t they know they’re outnumbered?” I asked. 

“I don’t think they care.” Alex said as we all pulled out our guns. 

“Let’s roll.” Rossi said. We started shooting and just rolled through them. I was hit in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything too bad. I could deal with it for a few hours if needed. I moved to the front with Rossi while Alex sat in the back with Dianh’s kid and her Mother. 

“You alright kid?” Rossi asked me. 

“I’ll be fine for a few hours, let’s get them to the safe house, then we can deal with me after.” I said and they nodded., We got them to the safehouse and the rest met us there with Dianh. 

“Let’s go, you two drop Y/N off at the hospital then meet us at the junkyard.” Hotch said and Rossi and Alex nodded. 

“I’m fine Hotch.” I said and he shook his head. 

“I’m not letting you go with a bullet wound.” He said and I sighed. Probably a good idea. They dropped me off at the hospital and I was getting treated. As soon as I was done they said I was free to go and I decided to just go see Spencer. 

“Hey, you guys okay?” I asked. 

“What happened to you?” Garcia asked. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” I said and smiled at Spencer sleeping. 

Finally the case was over and we could all go home. When we got off the plane Alex offered to help us home. We knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were walking upstairs to our apartment and it felt so good to be home again. 

“You sure you guys are okay?” She asked. 

“I feel great.” Spencer answered and I nodded in agreement. 

“Ah, that’s overselling it.” He said and I giggled. 

“I, uh, I feel great considering I just got shot in the neck.” He said as we reached the top of the stairs. 

“Sounds about right.” I said. Spencer opened the door and Alex followed us in. 

“Where do you want this?” She asked referring to our bags that she refused to let us carry. 

“Right there is fine.” I said pointing to the couch. 

“Okay, so, you two should get some sleep.” She said. 

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked. 

“Yesterday touched a nerve when I saw you like that.” She said. 

“Who’s Ethan?” I asked. 

“My son.” She answered and my eyes widened slightly. 

“He was nine when he died. Doctors said it was neurological, but they didn’t have a name for it. Still don’t. That drove me crazy, no word to put to this thing that took away my greatest love.” She said and my heart hurt for her. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said. 

“He kept growing despite his disease. The last time I laid beside him, he was almost as long as me. He was ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I begged him to open his eyes. And the cruelest part was that I could see who he would be at twenty, but I knew he’d never get there.” She said. 

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” I whispered. 

“Ethan’s a great name.” Spencer said which made her smile. 

“Yeah. It means enduring.” She said. 

“It’s fitting.” I said. 

“You and James never let go of one another.” Spencer said and she smiled. She made her way to the door, but Spencer stopped her. 

“Have you ever had that feeling that your future is somehow behind you?” He asked and I looked at him confused. 

“All the time.” She answered with a nod. 

“I did, too. But it isn’t.” He said and I smiled at him. 

“Ethan would have been a lot like you.” She said and left. 

“Bye Alex.” He said and I knew it was the final goodbye. She wasn’t going to be a part of us anymore. I pulled Spencer in for a hug and he held me tightly. 

“I really thought my future was behind me, until I met you.” He said and kissed my head. 

“I know.” I whispered and smiled up at him. He pulled away and walked over to his bag. He pulled out a small box and turned back to me. He got down on one knee and my eyes widened. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you with all my heart and you’ve helped me so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” He asked and a few tears fell down my cheek. 

“Yes! A million times yes! I love you so much Spencer.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back with a laugh and placed the perfect ring on my finger. I looked at the ring and it was simple gold with small diamonds around the outside. The band itself was like a vine and it was perfect. 

“This is amazing Spencer.” I whispered and he smiled. 

“I thought you’d love it.” He said and I smiled up at him. 

“We should probably get some sleep now.” I whispered and he nodded. 

“Come on, let’s rest up.” He said, pulling me along with him. We got into bed and he held me close. 

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and kissed my head. 

“I love you so much too, Spencer.” I whispered back and smiled. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @pettyjayy​ @reidssmile​ @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @braeleexelizabeth​ @satans-0-spawn​ @emofairygay​

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds season 9 #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #fanfic #request

[geniusgub]

north//chapter three

here’s the new chapter!! please enjoy and leave me your feedback! as always, let me know if you want to be on the taglist by sending me an ask :)

genre: fluff, angst if u squint

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 11.3k

SPENCER

The elevator doors pop open on the sixth floor on a bright, sunny day, and the smile on my face is the biggest it’s ever been and I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to wipe it off. This morning, Amelia confessed that she had never seen Doctor Who before, and then she encouraged me to ramble on and on about my favorite parts and favorite characters and she asked questions and my smile never went away, even as we said our goodbyes and through the dirty train ride. But having seen Amelia will make my day better and the walk to my desk seems so much brighter and happier than normal.

"Good morning, Spencer," Alex smiles at me as she passes my desk, setting her bag down and sending me a wave. 

"Morning," I return her smile, taking the last sip of the coffee from my cup, the one from my meeting with Amelia, giving it one more longing look before tossing the cup in the trash.

Alex watches me closely as she sheds her jacket and scarf, draping it over her chair. "Weather's rough, right? It's getting really cold,"

I spin in my chair and my eyes trace up to where the wall and the ceiling meet, staring out the windows there. "Yeah, it's pretty rough out there,"

"Christmas is soon though," a smile comes to her face as she sits and takes a breath. "Do you have any plans yet? Do you think you'll go to see your mom?"

I shrug my shoulders and push away the sharp pain in my chest at the mention of my mom and at the mention of such a joyous holiday that’s supposed to be filled with friends and family. But instead, I’ll do the same things I’ve done the last few years- sit by myself at home and reread a book from my shelf. "Not sure yet. Haven't really thought about it,"

Alex hums, not pleased with that answer, and spins her chair around to face her desk. "Okay, well, don't wait too long or else you won't have any plans, and nobody should be left alone on Christmas," I choose not to respond. I just turn my chair back to face my desk and get to work.

"Good morning, wonderful crime fighters!" Garcia exclaims, bounding into the bullpen as Morgan holds the door open for her. Her bubbly attitude brings JJ and Rossi over to my desk area and even though I was trying to avoid any conversation, I spin in my chair to join the circle that forms. "I've brought cookies to lighten the mood that this horrible, horrible cold weather is reigning down on you BAU-tiful people," she grins happily at her recycled pun as she pops the top off the tin in her hand. Everyone, except for me because group food is not and has never been my jam, reaches their hands in and grabs some cookies, mumbling a few thank yous to our dear friend.

"So what's up with everyone?" Morgan asks, glancing around at the team. "We're always together but we don't always get to talk about our lives. So, come on, I know someone's got something,"

There's a moment of silence between the team where everyone wants someone else to speak up first, especially me. I wish I could duck my head down and hide under my desk because I know they will all want to ask me about what’s going on in my life and I'm not ready to tell them yet, and I’m not the best liar. I want to keep Amelia a secret. I want to keep her for myself. But if I try to make myself smaller in any way, then a team of profilers will notice immediately and I'll get called out. It's a lose-lose for me. And maybe it's irrational to want to keep her my secret. Last time I did that, it didn't end well and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But even still, I want to keep Amelia for myself.

"Well," JJ laughs when nobody speaks up, "Will and I took Henry to the zoo for the first time over the weekend and he absolutely loved it,"

That brings everyone into a conversation and I'm glad I can let my mind wander off to Amelia. She always looks beautiful, but she looked especially stunning today. She wore plaid jeans with a black sweater tucked in, a black knit scarf, and her normal black boots. Of course, she had a black peacoat on to shield her from the weather, and the strap of her camera was slung over her shoulder instead of around her neck. Her hair was up in this messy braided updo that I don't even want to spend time wondering how long it took her to execute. Her nail color changed for the millionth time, now to a pale blue. Her necklace was almost completely hidden behind her scarf but I noticed that she wears the same one every day, a small butterfly. But today, there was just something about her smile and her laugh that made me feel extra warm inside. It made me feel like I wanted to scoop her up and bring her back to my apartment and never let her leave.

"Reid? Hey, Reid!" There's suddenly a hand snapping in front of my face, bringing me out of yet another one of my daydreams.

Everyone has vacated the area and Alex is crouched in front of me, brows furrowed in confusion. I lift my head, blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Alex tilts her head, resting her arms on her legs. "Are you okay? You haven't been yourself lately. You've been a little bit distracted," she sighs and I can tell that she's wondering if she should say something. She ultimately makes a decision in her head to not say it and instead just waits for me to answer. But her holding back her thoughts frustrates me. I thought we were close so why would she hold anything back from me? When has she ever held anything back from me?

"Say what you were gonna say," I insist, sitting up more in my chair. "You were gonna say something. Say it,"

Alex chews on her lips and lets out a long breath, glancing around to make sure that nobody is too close. "Well," she hesitates one more time, "I know that you're still hurting about Maeve and-"

"No," I cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, "it's not about that. It's-" I push my hair out of my face as my breath gets caught in my throat. I take a replenishing breath and shake my head, turning back to the paperwork on my desk, "I'm fine, okay? I promise. Thanks for, uh, looking out for me,"

"Maybe you should consider going to therapy," Alex is clearly not ready to let this conversation go.

"I'm fine," I say yet again, giving her a tight-lipped smile, not even glancing her way again.

I hear Blake sigh and then walk around, seeing her sit down at her desk. There's part of me that feels bad for being so secretive to my closest friends. But I want to keep Amelia for myself. The team likes to know everything and they like to bring up significant others all the time. I don't want Amelia brought up like that. I don't want Morgan teasing me about her, or Garcia insisting on a double date, or JJ wanting to know how we met. But besides, Amelia isn't even my girlfriend. Right now, she's just a girl that I get coffee with before work. I wish she was more, but she's not.

Garcia comes back into the bullpen, holding a hoard of IPads in her arms and one case file for me. "It's case time, my loves!"

There’s a collective sigh that falls over the group as everyone pushes themselves out of their seats and towards the round table room, ready to endure another day of sadness. There’s no good day to get cases but really, there couldn’t be a worse time to get a case. Amelia and I ran out of time this morning and her story about the time her and her best friend got lost in California on a spring break vacation got cut short, and she promised to finish it tomorrow. She also swore that I could tell her all about my time at CalTech and about my favorite classes, all while she lets me fiddle around with whichever camera she happens to bring that day, even though I could possibly break it. I mean, she couldn’t get any more amazing. Technology is not my strong suit, whether it’s a computer or a phone or even a camera, but she’s still going to let me tinker with it. I didn’t think that she could get any better. 

After the catastrophe with Maeve, I never thought I'd ever have feelings for another person again. I thought that I'd die alone and loving Maeve. I thought she was my soulmate. I thought that the connection we had was one in a million and that I would never connect with someone on a romantic level again. Seeing her die right in front of me was like no other death I had ever witnessed and nobody, including and especially me, thought I would ever recover from that.

As much as I don't want to admit it and as adamantly as I will deny it, I've been through a lot. Childhood aside, my work at the FBI has been grueling. I've been taken hostage, I've mourned the death of my best friend who actually wound up to be alive and I’ve mourned the death of my unit chiefs wife, I've conquered drug addiction and two relapses alone, I’ve spent months mulling over the death of my girlfriend, and I've seen more death, destruction, and horror than anyone ever should.

It's unfair, really. All I wanted to do with my life and with my career was to help people and do something bigger than myself, but in turn, I've ruined myself. And after everything I've seen and how it has changed me, I’ve been expecting to work myself to death and die alone. I'm a loose cannon and it's obvious. I try to keep myself reined in, but I know that won't last for long. The years that I’ve spent at the FBI have imprinted on my brain and I thought that Maeve would be my refuge, but she was ripped away from me. Then and there, I knew that I would never love again. 

But then Amelia waltz's into my life. She comes bouncing in with her black heels, vintage cameras, tea bags, nose piercing, beautiful smile, and melodious laugh. She makes me feel like a normal person. She doesn't treat me like an FBI agent, or like someone who has endured the traumas that I have, and maybe that's because I haven't told her about any of my trauma, but I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Amelia comes laughing into my life with her denim skirts that aren't appropriate for the cold weather, curly blonde hair wrapped in patterned scarves or tied back in scrunchies, love for red wine, entrancing blue eyes, and her affinity for strawberries.

It's impossible to not fall in love with her and I hate myself for that. She makes it incredibly easy, so maybe it's not my fault that I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's not my fault that I look at the empty spot on my desk and wonder what it would be like to have a picture of her there. Maybe it's not my fault that I hold her pinky in mine for far too long when we say our goodbyes. I wish I could blame my feelings all on her. I wish I could blame Amelia for how fast I'm falling for her.

I fall in love with the energy she radiates. I fall in love with the way she speaks of her creative process while painting a new piece or drawing a new picture. I fall in love with the way she claims she has a foolproof formula for finding hidden treasures in any given thrift store. I fall in love with the way she always has a new story to tell yet listens to every word I have to say. She speaks with such passion and fire in her eyes that it draws me in. Amelia has even taken to setting an alarm on her phone to make sure I leave on time for work and every few days, she makes sure to show up before I do so that she can order both of our drinks so that it's not always me ordering for her and "wasting my money on her hot, flavored water."

Amelia and I keep up our morning coffee meetings for two months. We meet as much as we can, only taking the time off when I'm not away on a case. It's actually normalizing my sleep schedule too and I'm getting more sleep than I have in two years- or since Maeve died. When these meetings started, I used to not be able to sleep out of pure excitement of knowing I'd be able to see Amelia again. But then she started to text me the night before, sometimes to remind me to set an alarm so I'm not late or to remind me to bring a magic trick to show her (magic tricks are now common occurrences in the mornings) or to just tell me that she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. It’s always an odd sensation to get that third text because most people aren’t usually excited to see me.

The word date never surfaced in any of our conversations. I'm not sure if any of these meetings would be considered a date. Typically, dates happen at night, but these coffee meetings are happening bright and early in the morning. And maybe I'm too scared to even bring up the word date because then that will solidify what we're doing, if we even are doing anything. I'm too scared to admit that I'm falling way too hard and way too fast for Amelia.

But as terrified as I am of the way that I feel about Amelia, I wish so desperately that I wasn’t. I wish I could climb to the roof of my apartment building and scream at the top of my lungs that I’m falling in love and that I want everyone to know. I want to be able to see her outside of the confines of a tiny cafe just a block away from my apartment. I want to be able to see her out on the town, laughing and bouncing on her toes in the adorable way that she does. I want to do anything else in the world with her besides just sitting and drinking tea or coffee. I want to know even more about her. I want to know absolutely everything. I need to know everything.

ONE WEEK LATER

SPENCER

"So you got shot in the knee?"

"Yeah. The doctors told me that I might never walk without a cane again,"

"I'd like to see you with a cane," Amelia snorts, tucking her face behind her cup of tea as she succumbs to a fit of giggles. The sight makes me laugh too, trying to hide my joy behind my cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just-" she takes a long breath to calm herself, and, with a giant smile, she continues, "an FBI agent with a cane? I can't picture it,"

"Well, I wouldn't be allowed in the field. As much as I thrive in the police departments, I love being in the field. It gives you a rush, you know?"

"Mm, no. I don't know," Amelia laughs, "but I can imagine what you're talking about. An adrenaline rush. I've never caught a bad guy in action like you do. I mean, the closest I've ever come to that is catching one of my siblings stealing cookies late at night,"

A fond memory comes to mind, one involving a dinosaur-shaped cookie jar and a little hand. "I've caught my godson doing the same,"

"So, Spencer," Amelia's voice is lighter as she moves away from the previous topic of me taking a bullet in the field. She shimmies her shoulders just a little bit, then gestures to the Christmas drawings on the window. "Do you have any plans for Christmas next week?"

Oh, the dreaded question. Each of my team members had asked me that during our case last week and I had to lie every single time. I don't want them to feel bad for me when I tell them I don’t have any plans and I’ll be spending Christmas alone. Alex might try to invite me to dinner with her family, and JJ would probably do the same and swear that Henry had been asking about his godfather, but it's just out of pure pity. I don't need any more pity from my team.

"Um," I have to keep my voice from cracking as I drown out myself in a sip of coffee, "no,"

"No?" Amelia repeats, but her face doesn't change at all, not like she’s sad or she’s pitying me. "Me either. I told you, my family's in Texas and I'd only be able to go out there for two days. So as much as I'd love to go, it doesn't really make sense, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. My mom is in Las Vegas so I know what you mean,”

Amelia looks down at her cup of tea, fiddling with the teabag. "You know, if you don't have anything to do on Christmas, maybe we could spend the day together?" She suggests, glancing up at me with a nervous smile. "I was planning on spending the day alone but if you also don't have anything to do, maybe we could do something together," she goes quiet for a moment and I wait, wondering if she's finished with her request. Or maybe it’s just that I’m speechless and I have absolutely nothing to say in response to that request. Yeah, that’s more likely. She, again, looks down at her cup and I can see her fingers shaking slightly as she toys with the teabag. "And besides, I love our little coffee dates but it'd be nice to see you outside of here,"

And there it is. It all comes out with just those few sentences. Not only does Amelia see these meetings as dates, but she wants to see me outside of the cafe. She wants to spend Christmas with me, a day that you usually spend with your family or your closest friends. She was so nervous to ask me about this that her hands are shaking. When has this ever happened? Usually I'm the anxious one. I'm the one here who does the nervous laughing and fumbles over my words and taps my feet and fiddles with my hair. She's usually the one who takes charge of the conversation and laughs louder and initiates our pinky hold when we have to say goodbye. Being anxious is my thing and if Amelia is taking that over, then that must mean that this request took a lot to say.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she adds quickly before hiding, again, behind a sip of her tea.

I’ve let myself hold back with Amelia for far too long- for two whole months. I’ve gone two months without growing some balls and asking her out and I can’t handle it anymore. I need to see her with a different background behind her other than a tan leather booth. So I don’t give myself a moment to think or stress before I speak. "I'd love to," 

Amelia's eyes dart up to me and her smile starts to grow. "Really?" I nod wordlessly, too scared that I'll say something dumb and ruin it if I open my mouth. "I would've thought you'd say no," The alarm on Amelia's phone goes off, telling us that it's time for me to leave for work. She gives me a sad smile and silences it, chewing on her lip. "Time for you to go. You've got people to save, Dr. Reid,"

The two of us stand and wrap ourselves in our coats and scarves before heading out the door, into the bitter, cold wind. Amelia turns on her heel and holds out her pinky to me. I switch my coffee to my left hand and wrap my right pinky around her, watching her nose start to go pink from the weather surrounding us. Amelia smiles, and the timer in my head starts to run, counting up the seconds we stand in front of each other and just smile. We’re already standing here longer than yesterday but not as long as Tuesday two weeks ago. And the longer we stand here, the pinker Amelia’s nose gets, and the more my heart melts.

"Get warm soon," I tell her softly, worried that if I speak too loud, I’ll ruin the moment.

"You too," she smiles, wrapping her finger even tighter around mine as a way to tell me not to leave just yet. "I know you'll let me know if you have a case. But if you do," she lets out a breath, dropping her smile until her dimples disappear, "get home before Christmas."

///

I inhale deeply and brush my fingers through my hair, trying to make it seem somewhat presentable as I turn the corner to Amelia's apartment, double-checking that I'm at the right one. I smooth down my sweater and check that my converse are tied twice before knocking on the door. I can hear music from inside her apartment but I can't tell exactly what the song is yet, but based on what today is, I can only assume it’s a Christmas song.

I wait patiently for a moment behind a closed door, still second-guessing my slightly more casual outfit of converse, jeans, and a Christmas sweater. And after only a minute I'm convinced that Amelia has backed out and doesn't want me around for this sacred holiday, and I’m almost convince o turn around and leave. Maybe I could walk home and find a bookstore and get some takeout. I'm about to do just that and I’m mentally mapping out the best route home when the door swings open and Amelia stands there with her stunning smile.

"Hi, Spencer!" She exclaims, popping the door all the way open and letting me feel the heat that radiates from the inside. "Come in, please," Relief washes over me as I step inside her warm apartment, my eyes darting around the walls and decor of her home. "You can just put your stuff anywhere. It doesn't really matter to me. Make yourself at home. Be comfortable," I recognize the song now as It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, playing from her beloved record player that I’ve heard a surprising amount about. She bought it when she first moved to Virginia and it was the first thing she bought for her apartment, before she even bought a bed or food or utensils.

I pull my messenger bag off and set it beside the door, ridding myself of my peacoat and my scarf, hanging them up on the coatrack. Amelia is still standing beside me but before I take the time to admire her like I usually do, I really stop to look at her apartment. It's exactly how I pictured it to be. It reflects her personality perfectly.

The walls are comprised of dark brick and there are different pieces of artwork scattered along the walls of her entire apartment, like stray photographs and polaroids put up with wash tape, or a canvas painting in a frame, and a floral tapestry behind the television. To my left is a huge shelf of books and records followed by a wall full of picture frames with pictures I can only assume are of her family and friends. To the right of the door is a cozy looking living room with a tv and the active record player, and a fireplace with a log already lit. Beside the living room is the kitchen, and across from the kitchen is a set of floating stairs that leads up to what I presume is Amelia's bedroom. In front of the stairs is a door out to a small balcony overlooking the city.

"Hey," Amelia reaches over and pokes my shoulder, laughing, "stop profiling my apartment. I cleaned up for you, there can't be too much for you to judge,"

"Profiling isn't actually judging, per se," I blurt out facts before I can stop myself. "Profiling is actually just noticing behavior,"

Amelia crosses her arms over her chest, etching on a smile. "Sometimes I wonder how your head isn't physically bigger with all that information you've got stored up in there. Really, it keeps me up at night sometimes," she says quickly, and then rolls her eyes at herself. She gestures towards the kitchen, "Well, I've got- oh, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas,” I echo, following her into her kitchen, trailing just a step behind her.

As she walks in front of me, I get the chance to admire her. Today, she's decided to wear a black and white plaid tweed skirt with a red knit turtleneck tucked into it. Her legs are bare otherwise but she's wearing dark wool socks with a pattern on them, almost identical to the ones I’m wearing. Her hair is down in curls and flowing down to her waistline, but there's a green clip on the left side of her head that's holding back some of her hair. Her face is glowing, like usual, and her nose and ear piercings are in, like usual. It takes me a moment to realize how much smaller she is now that she's not wearing the heels she always has on. I'd peg her at around 5'2" and that's a major difference with me at about 6'1”. But even though I’ve observed countless outfits of hers, she's just as beautiful today as she is every other day.

"So I thought that, since it's only noon, we could make some Christmas cookies," she suggests, showing me her kitchen island full of cookies and bags and ingredients. "I have ingredients for quite a lot of cookies because I meant to make them myself but never got around to it. I have ingredients for gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies and oatmeal cookies and probably way more,"

"Sounds good to me. I like all of those,” The thought of making all those cookies with Amelia sounds much better than sitting and doing nothing. I don’t have time to make cookies like this on my own and I didn’t get to have any of Penelope’s, so making cookies with Amelia sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas.

Amelia sits down at a barstool and gestures for me to sit beside her, and it’s a weird sensation, for a split second, to be sitting beside her instead of across from her. She reaches for a bag of flour and a bowl, but her hand stops midair when she looks over at me and a smile breaks out on her face. "I like your sweater,"

I glance down at my sweater, just shrugging at my own appearance as if I wasn’t freaking out about it ten minutes ago. "It's just a sweater," It’s one that I’ve had for as long as I can remember and one that could probably pass as ugly, but it has a pattern with snowflakes and stripes and reindeer. I almost didn’t wear it because I thought that maybe Amelia would think it was ugly.

"But Spencer, I always see you in your work clothes. You're always wearing sweater vests and button-ups. You're still wearing jeans and converse but the sweater is a change. I like it, that's all,"

She turns her back to me to grab something else and her compliment makes me chew on the inside of my cheek. I wipe my hands on my pants before I take a deep breath. You can do it, Spencer. You grew enough balls to accept her Christmas invitation. You can do this. "I like your outfit," Oh thank god I managed to say that without sounding like a total idiot.

When Amelia turns back around to set the sugar on the counter, she's blushing. "Thanks,"

I read over the recipes she has printed out and then set them aside, standing up again so I can attempt to start helping her. We decide to start with the Pillsbury sugar cookies since all we have to do is put those in the oven, so we start arranging them on a tray.

"I should warn you," I mumble to Amelia as we bump hips, "I'm not the best baker,"

"It's not too hard," Amelia says nonchalantly. "I'll give you some tips. A smart man like you can pick it up, don't worry, love,"

The simple pet name makes me blush but we're both so preoccupied with putting the frozen cookies on the tray that Amelia doesn't notice. The simple pet name makes my heart beat faster and almost burst out of my chest. Once the cookies are on the tray, she puts them in the oven and then turns to me.

"Okay, which cookies do you wanna make first?" She grabs the recipes and holds them up for me to see as if I hadn’t looked at them before. 

"What do you think we should do?" She looks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I almost get lost for a moment, but I pull myself back when she rustles the papers again. "I've never done this before and you seem to have a lot of experience so-"

"You've never made Christmas cookies before?" Amelia gasps, the papers falling onto the table as her jaw drops in disbelief, and I shake my head at her. "Okay, then we're gonna make gingerbread cookies first because they’re a classic. They're my favorite and they're the most fun to decorate so hopefully you’ll like them too. I can't believe you've never done this before!"

She whips around and starts to assemble a new set of ingredients, telling me now and then how much to measure out, even though I've memorized the entire recipe. But nonetheless, I let her take the lead and take the previous cookies out of the oven.

"Okay, come here," Amelia says when my back is turned to her. She has the gingerbread dough rolled out on the island and a few different sized molds laid out, flour caked on her hands. "Getting the dough onto the pan is an art itself," I let out a little laugh, but then she turns her head with a threatening look as if to say I’m serious, that isn't threatening at all. "I'm serious. First, you've gotta use the mold to cut. Then you've gotta wiggle the mold. Then you've gotta get the dough off the counter and that's the hardest part because if you didn't put down enough flour then you’re screwed. It's an art. You laugh, but it's true,"

"I believe you," I put my hands up in surrender, reaching for one of the molds. I stand beside her and it takes me a moment to process how close I actually am, and I only do when I feel her body heat on me. "So, like this?" I push the mold into the dough and then wiggle the plastic back and forth until it's completely separated from the mass of dough, just like she told me to. But then when I lift the mold, the snowflake-shaped piece of dough completely lifts and folds over, ruining the dough. I let out a defeated sigh, looking up at Amelia with a dramatic pout, silently begging for help. "It is an art,"

Amelia giggles, bopping my nose, and I can feel some flour residue getting left there, making me scrunch up my nose. "Yes, it is. I'm glad you've realized, let me help you,"

///

An hour passes and we've finished baking all the gingerbread men, we're baking chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, and we've eaten half of the sugar cookies. We're chatting aimlessly about anything and everything and I'm starting to really actually enjoy this. I’m happy to be seeing Amelia outside of the cafe and I’m happy to be so comfortable with her, and to see her literally and metaphorically let her hair down. I thought I would be riddled with anxiety and would have to make some excuse to go rushing out, but now I don’t think I ever want to go home. I would be content with never leave this artsy apartment and making cookies with Amelia for the rest of my life.

"I'm gonna try to make you but as a gingerbread man," Amelia says as she sits down with a piping bag full of icing and half of the gingerbread men. I've got the other bag of icing in my hand and the other half of the gingerbread men in front of me, waiting to be decorated with far less finesse than Amelia’s cookies.

"You're an artist. You've got an unfair advantage," I pout yet again, starting to make uneven lines and lopsided eyes on my cookies. I grimace at my creations and my pout only grows when I glance over and see that Amelia’s look perfect.

"It's not a competition," Amelia responds, not even looking up from her interpretation of me in gingerbread form. "And remember what I said, everyone sees art differently. There’s no right or wrong in art,” she lets out a small squeal and then throws her piping bag down, leaning closer to me to show me the cookie. “Look! It’s you!”

The gingerbread man has an attempt at curly hair along with a button-up shirt, a tie, slacks, and converse. Honestly, the cookie version of me is pretty cute, but maybe I’m biased because Amelia made it. Amelia is elated at my pleased reaction and goes on to decorating more cookies, so I prop up her creation and keep on going.

I settle into my barstool and keep my eyes down, swinging my feet back and forth. There's a question on the tip of my tongue that I'm too scared to ask. It's been there for weeks. But this question implies follow up questions about me and I don't want to risk that. But I’ve been pondering this question since I met Amelia and I think that I would be willing to risk the follow-up questions if it means I get some sort of answer.

"Amelia," I say quietly, earning a hum in response, "I have a question,"

"Yeah?" She's soft-spoken, clearly focused on her cookies.

"Why don't you talk about your family?"

I look up just in time to see her grip on the piping bag falter, and she has to readjust her hold. But before she can do that, her hand reaches for the butterfly necklace that's forever around her neck and she tugs on it gently. That tells me that the necklace has a connection to her family, I just don't know how. Nope. Stop it right there. She told me when I came in to stop profiling her, even though it was clearly a joke, I shouldn’t start doing it now. 

"I, um," she lets out a breath and lets her eyes wander behind me, presumably at the wall of picture frames, "I just don't really like to talk about my family," that's all she says before she goes quiet. She readjusts her grip on the piping bag and goes back to work, deciding the conversation is over. Heat rises to my cheeks and my anxiety increases when I realize that my curiosity has gotten the better of me and I’ve ruined the good thing we have going on here with that simple question. So I just decide to shut my mouth and keep decorating my cookies. "You don't talk about your family either,"

It’s the question I was dreading, but it’s the one I was expecting. So I just shrug my shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to talk about their family,"

Amelia doesn't respond to that. It's one of the first times in our two months of knowing each other that I've seen her act shut off. The only time she ever acted out of character was asking if I would come over today, and she was only a little bit nervous for a few minutes. She's always so bubbly and open to any question or topic I have, so to have her sitting as close as ever but feel so far away is frustrating and the need to fill the grave I just dug myself.

"Amelia, I didn't mean to offend you with-"

"No, it's okay," she shakes her head, once again, her fingers adjusting around the piping bag. "It's a common thing that people talk about and I've never brought it up and you're a profiler so naturally, you would bring it up. It's fine, Spencer. I promise,"

"It doesn't seem fine. You're not even looking at me,"

"You're profiling me again," Amelia responds, her voice wavering.

I put my piping bag down and move closer to her, gently taking hers out of her hand and placing it down on the table. "Amelia, I-I didn't mean anything by it. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,"

She looks up at me and I can see that her eyes are glassy, and it stings to know that I’m the one who made her feel like that. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be doing this on Christmas," She sniffles, reaching her fingertips up to wipe at her under-eyes. I have an overwhelming need to comfort her back to happiness, especially since I made her so unhappy. So even though my hands shake in the slightest, I hold my arms out towards her. Amelia notices right away, her eyebrows raising. "Seriously?" I nod. "You won't shake or hold my hand but you'll hug me?"

"You need a hug so I'm here to give you a hug,"

Amelia’s face lights up and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly. I circle my arms around her shoulders and tuck her head under my chin, smiling at the way she fits perfectly under me. This is comfortable and I feel warm and when she wiggles her body to get closer, it brings a smile to my face. I feel safe. I haven't felt like this is a long time. I might never want to let go, but I think Amelia might have the same idea.

"Does this mean I get to hug you more often now?" Amelia mumbles into the fabric of my sweater. "Don't get me wrong, I love our pinky promises but I also love hugs,"

My eyelids flutter closed and I nod against her head. "Yeah, we can hug more often," I flatten my hands on her back and pull her closer. "I really am sorry about asking about your family,"

"Well, I brought yours up afterward so it's fine," 

We're only pulled apart when the timer on the oven dings and lets us know that the oatmeal cookies are finished. I reluctantly pull myself off of her and grab the oven mitts, pulling the tray out while Amelia returns to frosting her gingerbread men.

"Hey, Spencer?" Amelia calls as I'm scooping cookies off the pan. "Do you have any information about gingerbread men in your big genius head?"

She asked, so I answered. I go off and tell her how gingerbread men date back to the 15th Century and how the first documented use of them was at the court of Elizabeth I. I go on for maybe ten minutes about the history of these edible men and maybe it's more than she was bargaining for, but she never interrupted and she listened to the whole thing. That's rare these days. Even my closest friends on my team cut me off constantly and sometimes tune out my facts.

"I didn't know any of that. School really doesn't teach students anything they wanna learn about," Amelia laughs, adding two more gingerbread men to the pile of cookies.

We finish creating our mountain of different types of cookies at around 4 so we decide that we should start making dinner, that way, we can relax the rest of the night and not have to be rushing around the kitchen. The sun starts to set and the snow starts to fall as we set out on a new adventure of cooking dinner. Amelia goes to turn up the heat and I notice her take a moment to pause in front of the balcony doors to stare out at the fresh blanket of snow. But the second she turns and comes back to the kitchen, I whip my head down to the lasagna recipe in my hands to memorize it. Yet again, I decide to let Amelia take charge of this recipe because I would rather not mess it up.

///

We pop our tray of lasagna in the oven and then set a timer for the proper amount of time. "Alright," Amelia says, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes, "that'll be done in about twenty-five minutes. So maybe we could watch a movie? We've been baking all day so it'd be a good idea to get off our feet,"

It’s a no brainer to agree to the suggestion and I follow Amelia into her living room like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs. She gestures for me to sit on the couch while she drops to the floor in front of the tv, sitting up on her knees to shut off the record player. Then she pulls out a wicker basket filled to the brim with movies. "What are we watching?" 

"I've got plenty of Christmas movies because they're my favorite. I've got ones like," she holds up the case to each movie as she names it, "Polar Express, The Grinch, Home Alone, Elf, Love Actually, A Christmas Story and way, way more. Plus I've got the claymation ones like Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolph, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town," she looks up at me. "So which one do you fancy, love?"

There's that damn pet name again.

"Um," I let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of my neck, "I've actually never seen any of those before so I guess just put on your favorite,"

Amelia's eyes widen. "You've never seen any of these before?" I shake my head with a coy smile, my cheeks turning pink. "Wow, I guess it's my turn to educate you, Spencer. I might never get the opportunity to do this again so I'm going to take advantage while I can,"

Amelia jumps to her feet and pops one of the movies in the DVD player. She doesn't tell me what it is but she grabs the remote and comes to sit next to me on the couch. She's not too close to me but she's close enough to make my hands sweaty. I lean down to unlace my shoes and set them aside before getting myself a bit more comfortable on the couch, but not too comfortable. I’ve overheard far too many arguments between Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Garcia about how sitting too close to girls in moments like these can make a guy seem like, in Garcia’s words, a douchebag. And the last thing I want is for Amelia to think I’m a douchebag. So even though I feel I’m a mile away from her with just a couch cushion between us, I don’t move to close the distance.

"I put on The Polar Express because this is one of my favorite Christmas movies of all time," Amelia explains as the main menu comes up and shows the opening titles. "It's a good intro to Christmas movies, I guess, I don't really know,"

"Sure," I nod enthusiastically. "I like learning, I'm ready to watch. Go ahead, play,"

Amelia presses play and then reaches behind her for the blanket draped over the couch. She folds it over her lap and then glances over at me, holding up the corner of the blanket. "Do you-" she trails off, asking me if I want to share. I nod, scooting just a bit closer so we can both comfortably fit under the blanket. Our thighs are touching and it takes everything in me not to cuddle up even closer to her. She invited me over here so she must not think I’m a douchebag, right? This is okay, right?

The movie starts and it's quite different from the movies I'm used to watching. But I can tell it's a movie that has sentimental value to her so I pay close attention to it. It’s not filled with history or framed with subtitles or spewing information at me to instantly memorize. It’s just a lighthearted children’s movie that celebrates Christmas and teaches kids to not let others judge you and to believe in what you want to believe. I would have never watched a movie like this without Amelia and the longer I sit through the movie, the more I wish it wouldn’t end.

But eventually, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "None of the kids have names. Only Billy does,"

Amelia giggles, her head tilting closer to mine but keeping her eyes locked on the tv. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not sure why, they just don't,"

I hum, looking back up at the tv, not completely satisfied with the answer but willing to accept it. I try to focus back on the movie and figure out why these kids are sliding down tiny conveyor belts but I feel Amelia's eyes on me, locked on the side of my face. My attempts to ignore her gaze go in vain because I'm looking back down at her within another minute. She's looking up at me with her bottom lip between her teeth and her blue eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering. She looks horribly stunning and I fear I let my eyes linger on her lips for too long.

"What?" I whisper, wondering why she's staring at me when she should be watching the movie, a movie she claims is one of her favorites.

"Nothing," she says, but makes no attempt to break eye contact with me. "Nothing, I just-" she trails off yet again.

My hands had been placed at my sides but I can't help it when one of them moves to Amelia's cheek, barely even touching her soft skin at first, too afraid that she would flinch. A part of me is almost surprised when she doesn't pull away, but why do I keep getting surprised by her? She's remarkable. She asked me to spend Christmas with her so I wouldn't be alone. She cares about me in some capacity. She's showing me her favorite movies and baking cookies with me and she cares about me. I care about her and she cares about me. Why am I holding back?

"Can-" I clear my throat nervously, "can I kiss you?"

Amelia's eyes flutter for a moment before she nods, tilting her chin upwards. For a moment I think she's going to initiate the kiss, but then she doesn't. She just waits there, leaving me to feel her warm breath on my face and her cold skin under my fingertips. But she respected my boundaries when it came to handshakes and hugs, so even though I've already asked and she's already accepted, it makes sense that she would respect my inevitable boundaries with something as germy and personal and bacteria-filled as a kiss. So that means I have to finally take charge and I don't even have time to figure out if that terrifies me or excites me.

With my hand on her cheek and my heart about to beat out of my chest, I draw her forward and press my lips to hers in the softest and sweetest, most wonderful kiss. She tastes sweet, like strawberry lip balm and gingerbread, and I find my senses being filled with the taste of her. My brain had intended for a simple kiss, but after said simple kiss, I had to have more of her. Amelia doesn't resist as I deepen the kiss, bringing my hand to her neck to bring her closer. Her hands start at my chest but eventually travel up to my jawline, fingertips resting there softly, just barely coaxing me forward. Our lips move perfectly in sync and I could swear, as cheesy as it sounds, I feel burning on my skin from the fallout of the fireworks that erupt above us. I feel Amelia smile as she shuffles a bit closer to me on her knees, her body making even more contact with mine than before when we were just sitting. 

My mind is screaming at me to pull away, to push her off of me and run home and curl up in bed, and to ignore Amelia forever. My head says to shield her from this horrible part of the world that I expose myself to and to protect her innocence. That's all I want to do. I want to protect her. As it often does, my head says no but my heart says yes. I can't deny what I'm feeling for Amelia. I can't deny that I haven't slept over my alarm for two months because I'm far too excited to see her every morning at the cafe. I can't help the way my heart speeds up when she walks in and waves at me, or the way I can't help but beam when she laughs, or how I don't want to leave when the alarm on her phone sounds. That's what leads me to wrap my free arm around her waist and bring her chest to mine, the fabric of her sweater clutched in my fist and my lips fervently sliding against hers.

The sharp cry of the oven alarm is the only thing that can get us to pull apart, far too quickly for either of our likings. Amelia pulls away with a sharp inhale, her eyes closed for just a moment longer than mine. "I'll-" she moves one of the hands from my jaw to wipe at her bottom lip, "um, I'll go get that,"

Amelia begrudgingly untangles herself from my arms and then from the blanket around her legs, feet silent on the floor as she hurries to pull the lasagna out of the oven. I'm left on the couch for a moment, completely stunned and actually quite pleased. I’ve never been kissed like that. I didn’t even know I could kiss like that. I didn’t even know I had it in me. But once the momentary shock wears off, the tension sets in and I know I need to follow Amelia. I reach up to pause the movie so we don’t miss anything before following Amelia into the kitchen, seeing her close the oven as she places the tray of lasagna on the stove. Her cheeks are flushed but I can't tell if that's from the kiss or the heat from the oven.

The apartment is tense now that it's silent and Amelia's back is turned to me. Despite the obvious verbal consent, I fear I've ruined everything. I asked to kiss her and even though she accepted, she's quiet. She's busying herself with dishing lasagna and I'm realizing that the only other time she acted this shut off was when I asked about her family. Does that mean I need to apologize again? Oh my gosh, I really don’t know how girls work. I’ve already upset her twice in one day and made her act in ways I’ve never seen before. Maybe I should have listened more when Morgan complained about his girl problems. You know what? Maybe I won’t apologize this time. I’ll try a different approach.

"That wasn't-" I mumble, lingering in the entryway to the kitchen, "weird, right? That didn't totally ruin things, right?"

Amelia's hands pause mid-air for a moment but then she continues dishing food. "No, it wasn't weird,"

Okay, Spencer. If you've ever needed to be bold, now's the time. She obviously likes you and you've accepted that you like her too and that you don't want to lose her, and right now, you're losing her to whatever her brain is telling her. Don't let that happen. Do something.

"So," I take a step closer to her and place my hand on her waist, spinning her around to face me, "so you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?"

Amelia doesn't even respond, she just grabs my cheeks and kisses me again. I instinctively push her against the counter and hold her there, my hands clutching her waistline as her hands start to thread through my hair. This kiss is needier than the first one, almost as if it's solidifying to both of us that we're really doing this and that these feelings are actually mutual. That the first kiss didn’t scare either of us off and we’re not going anywhere.

I'm the first to pull away when I run out of breath, but I have not a single intention of moving away from her. I still feel Amelia's lips brushing mine and her warm breath fanning across my face, delicate fingers pushing my hair off my forehead. It's shaggy and falling over my forehead, but she arranges it perfectly so it's out of the way. She smiles nervously at me and then she shrinks, and I realize she had to go on her tiptoes to kiss me. "I, um," she laughs, letting her hands fall to my shoulders, "I've had a crush on you for a while. Like, since we first talked,"

I slide my hands down to her hips, feeling the rough tweed fabric under my fingertips. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles bashfully. "I thought you were really cute and I may have walked into you on purpose because I was too scared to approach you when you were reading,"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the realization that the camera fiddling was just a ruse. "What?" Amelia giggles, ducking her head into my shoulder to hide her blush from showing. "No! No hiding!"

"It's true!" She pulls her hands from my shoulders and covers her face. "You were reading and you were doing it so fast and I was confused at how you were actually retaining the information and you looked so cute with your hair up like that and I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how to. When you got up, I just walked over and then grabbed my camera and-" I grab her wrists gently and pull her hands away from her face. Amelia's face is bright red in embarrassment but she smiles as I slide my hands into hers and lace our fingers together. "I thought you didn't hold hands,"

"You also thought I didn't hug or kiss until tonight," I remark, bringing our hands down to our sides. I lean in one more time and press our lips together, and this time the kiss doesn't need to be quick or passionate or wet. It's slow and sweet. It fills me with the familiar warmth that only Amelia has been able to provide me with.

"You're just full of surprises," Amelia giggles, twisting her head to kiss my cheek. "We should eat before it gets cold, right?"

"Yeah, probably," I don't want to let go of her but I reluctantly do, letting her continue her task of dishing lasagna for the two of us. We resume our positions on the couch, sitting even closer than before. Amelia rewinds the movie quite a bit, making sure I’ve seen every frame that we missed while we were engaged in other activities. She claims she doesn’t mind seeing it again, that she watched this movie last week anyway so rewinding it for me isn’t a big deal at all.

I do my best to pay attention throughout the rest of the movie like Amelia wants me to do, but it's proven to be a challenge. All I want to do is look down at the angel sitting beside me and kiss her and play with her hair and talk to her about any topic that might pop into my head. But she's fixated on the movie and I don't want to tear her away from something that she's so invested in. So I stay silent and sling my arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to get more comfortable. I do it unintentionally, but Amelia takes this as an invitation to cuddle up beside me. She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on my shoulder, effectively tucking herself into my side. I'm not complaining, because even though I wasn’t intending to do the ultimate douchebag move and basically silently invite her to cuddle with me, I’m not complaining. I grin for the rest of the movie.

///

"So did you like it?" Amelia asks eagerly, sitting up on her knees as the credits rolls, an expecting grin plastered on her face. "I know you're used to watching movies in different languages and-"

"It was pretty great, actually," 

"You're not just saying that because I told you it's one of my favorites?"

"Not at all. It bothered me that the children didn't have names, besides Billy, but other than that, it was a wonderful movie. I can see why you like it so much," I tell her. "And it's only seven. Are we gonna watch something else?"

"Well," Amelia chews on her lip, pulling away from my embrace slightly as she plays with the hem of her skirt, "the depends on you. If you wanna head home, I know you have work tomorrow and-"

"Actually," unintentionally, I cut her off yet again. But she looks up at me with bright eyes, hopeful that I'll want to stay, "I don't expect that you got me anything but I brought you a gift,"

I quickly leap up to avoid seeing her reaction, returning to my messenger bag in the doorway, reaching in for the perfectly wrapped gift. I spent hours on the floor of my bedroom wrapping the present, and then unwrapping it when the paper creased, then wrapping it again, then unwrapping it when the paper ripped, and then finally leaving the wrapping after what seemed like the millionth try. It was a process but it was worth it because it looks absolutely perfect.

When I return to the living room, Amelia is gone. I sit down with the gift in my lap, assuming she'll be back soon. And sure enough, she comes bounding down the floating stairs a second later. "I did actually get you a gift," she says, jumping back onto her spot on the couch. "Just something little," I pass my gift off to her and she does the same with me until we're holding each other's presents. It's odd actually, because I've given and received gifts with my team and with my mom, but never like this. Never with a girl I have a massive crush on. Never with someone who I care on another level for. Never with a girl who seems to put the sun in the sky.

I gesture for Amelia to go first, placing her gift in my lap, to be opened next. She gives me an excited smile and nods, obeying my quiet warning to hold it carefully as she searches for a spot to pull the paper back. "They're-" she pulls the paper clean off and beams, "45's,"

"Yeah," I nod anxiously as she reveals my present. "You told me you love records and this bookstore I love sells records too. I found these and I thought of-" I clear my throat, "well, they made me think of you,"

Amelia looks through the small stack of records in her hands, narrowing her eyes at me. "Most of them are classical, Spencer,"

"You need more classical music in your life, Amelia," I sass back at her, earning a small scoff in returning, bringing up a small quarrel we had a few weeks ago. "You can't spend your days listening to Christmas music, Frank Sinatra, and Taylor Swift,"

Amelia glances up at me with a small pout. "I could try,"

I laugh, pointing to the records in her hand. "Well, now you don't have to,"

"Thank you, love. This is wonderful, really. I'm gonna put one of these on right after you open your gift," she places them on her lap and then points at the present in my lap. "Go ahead. It's your turn."

I tear back the wrapping paper and first find a pack of coloring pencils, which seems like an odd gift, considering how many times I’ve established that I’m bad at art, but then I find a black leather journal behind it. Upon further inspection, I find that there are drawings on the front of the journal. My name is written in beautiful calligraphy on the top of the cover, and all around the front are small pictures. I find things like coffee cups, cameras, a deck of cards, an imperfect square with the pattern of one of Amelia's scarves, a record player, beakers, plenty of books, and much more.

"It's a sketchbook," Amelia explains softly. "You were saying how you wish you were better at art, so now you have the means to practice. And I was thinking about when you go on cases and you could bring it with you and I tried to put things on the front that would maybe, I don't know, comfort you." She pauses and I look up at her, waiting for her to continue with what she wants to say. Because just by the tight-lipped smile on her face, I know she wants to say something else. "Selfishly, I put references to me on there,"

I set my gift onto the coffee table and then move the records aside, pulling Amelia into my arms again. She happily accepts this embrace, arms circling my shoulders. "I love it," I tell her. "Thank you. I'll definitely bring it on cases with me. I can't ensure that anything I draw in it is good, but-"

"But you've got a pretty great teacher right here."

///

Amelia watches with an overly dramatic pout as I button up my jacket and put my scarf on, glancing out the window to check out bad the snow is. She crosses her arms over her chest as I put my messenger bag over my shoulder, making me laugh. "Don't make me feel even worse for leaving,"

"If I make you feel really bad, will you stay?" Amelia practically begs, even though she's already reaching for the doorknob. She knows I have work tomorrow and I have to be up early. She opens the door and then leans against the frame, still clearly not ready for me to depart.

"Hey, why don't you sleep in tomorrow? We don't need to meet up tomorrow morning. Get some extra sleep. It's almost midnight,"

Amelia's pout grows. "What? But what if you get a case? Then I won't see you for a few days, at least,"

"Then," I hadn't entirely thought this through because she totally has a point. WWDMD? I know exactly what Derek Morgan would do. Of all the times I’ve thought about Morgan today, I know exactly how he would respond in this situation. I reach out to grab her waist and pull her into a half hug, smiling, "then I'll make it up to you by taking you out on a proper date when I get back,"

Amelia's smile grows and she starts to nod. "That sounds like a plan," she goes up on her toes to kiss me but her lips only brush mine before pulling away again. "What if you don't get a case? Are you still gonna take me on a date?"

I put on a pensive face that makes her laugh. "I'll think about it," I press my lips to hers, unable to handle the short, torturous distance anymore. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as I want it to because we’re standing the hallway at midnight where anyone could catch us, letting the heat out, after a long day of making cookies and watching movies, and it’s absolutely freezing. So when we pull away, I have to will myself to not groan or grimace.

"Let me walk you out," Amelia hums, grabbing her keys before walking out with me. Our pinky's interlock as we walk down her apartment hallway, towards the door outside. "Will you text me when you get home? I just wanna make sure you get home safe," we stop in front of the door and she wraps her arms around my waist. "I know you're a fully capable FBI agent and all but it's late and I worry about that stuff,"

"Of course I will," I hug her tightly, pressing my lips to her cheek. "Thank you for inviting me over. I would've just been sitting alone and reading books all day without you,"

"Thanks for coming over," she echoes, pulling away from our ultra-warm hug and letting a chill run down her spine. "I would've watched movies alone all day. So thanks for being with me. I'll miss you tomorrow,"

"I will too, but I'll text you when I get home and I'll talk to you tomorrow to let you know if I get a case or not,"

"I'll be glued to my phone," Amelia winks at me, getting me to laugh one last time for the night. "Now go, before it gets even later."

“You go back to your apartment first. I know it’s right there but I, uh,” I glance behind her, down the dim hallway, “I worry about that stuff,”

Amelia smiles in the most smitten way I think I’ve ever seen, and for once, I think I’ve actually done something right. “Yeah, okay,” she nods, and she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss my cheek on more time. “Bye, Spencer. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” I echo, watching her scurry back to her apartment and unlock the door, stepping into the warmth. Her head pops out once more and she sends me a wave, blowing me a kiss before she disappears. The air I exhale reverberates off the wall and the smile on my face is undeniable, even as I dance on the cusp of frostbite during my walk home. A girl like that is mine? A girl like that who blows kisses and bakes cookies all day and cuddles during movies? She’s mine? Amelia is mine. She really is and as soon as that thought echoes in my head, a laugh escapes my lips. I must be the luckiest man alive.

  hello there! if you’re still reading here then please tell me your favorite snack!! plz im v hungry thank u sm okay here’s the taglist

 TAGLIST

@etheralgubler @babybobbybones @whollytaciturn @reidswords @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @nastyhar @gublergirls @mandapanda8 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #nikos north fic

[spiltscribbles]

My Saving Grace

Notes: This was written for my beautiful, sweetheart @tedddylupin as part of our server’s Spring Exchange <3 I’m sorry that this isn’t a surprise anymore but I love you and I’m sorry that this is late. I hope that you enjoy it! Thank you to the realist babe @omgcmere for dealing with my shit while writing this. You can join our server here » https://discord.gg/g2ZgKkJ

.-

A Reblog is worth a thousand stars.

.-

It’s a thick, sprinkling spring morning, and Henry’s standing outside the Matin Bleu like he’s done every Easter his family spent in the states. It’s a small, conspicuous bistro fashioned in the French model that lies in the northern Hamptons. Henry knows it’s every nook and crevice, knows the pastel tablecloths and porcelain china, and he noticed when they adopted new silverware two years earlier. He knows this place like the back of his hand, holds it synonymous to his grandmother’s ever-appraising gaze and Philip’s stiff upper lip and the way it sometimes felt like he was being suffocated by the formality of it all— by the unbridled expectations held for a Mountchristen heir. And God, this is pathetic, the fact that Henry can’t even step into a brunch with his family without the ominous sensation that he’s about to step into enemy territory. Like they were one of the new Kingpins ravaging the neighborhood streets, and he needed an actual superhero to come and save him.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters to himself, pulling out his phone to check the time and see if Alex’s near by, admittedly not sure if he could face all their judgmental glances without some sort of backing.

“Your hair’s starting to get mussed.”

Henry starts, turns around to find Beatrice walking closer to him. She’s got on  a  sundress that makes it so flecks of green dance in her almond eyes and a truly massive hat that would make the British royals seethe  with envy. And Henry’s never been so thankful for the sight of her a day in his life.

“You’re late,” he chides softly, leans down for her to hug him   hello and slips his phone back in his trouser’s pocket, inwardly praying that Alex’s at the very least on his way.

“’S the pregnancy, it’s got me in shambles trying to figure out the time,” Beatrice sniffs, snaking her arm through his own as they stroll into the restaurant. Henry doesn’t care if he admits it, everything feels easier with his sister besides him.

“Don’t tell me that works on Louis, the poor sod.” Henry snorts, incredulous, as he pulls out her chair for her to sit in and greets his Grams and mother with perfunctory pecks on the cheek.

“Louis’s great with all of it,” Beatrice beams, hands moving to rest on her still barely-visible belly. “Even with the mommy brain.”

“You make sure he keeps that attitude up once diapers come around,” a cousin crows from further down the table.

“He’s sworn it,” Beatrice assures glowingly.

“Well Bea, where is Louis? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got knocked up by an irreverent tosser?” Philip asks, passing the butter to Martha, who’s rolling her eyes at her husband’s crassness. Henry hopes she knows that she’s not alone on the annoyed by Philip boat.

“Nice to see you too Pip, it’s been too long.” Beatrice glares with a truly mutinous twisting of her lips.

“Well, answer, where is your husband frolicking around if not here with his family?” their grandmother— a woman who the queen of England had to work her schedule around to meet—  presses, voice drenched with disapproval.

Henry takes Bea’s smaller hand into his own and squeezes for support.

“He had to go to the office in the city to oversee a vulnerable account, Grams,” Beatrice answers with a level tone, squeezing back so hard that Henry swears she’s trying to snap his fingers right in half. “He’ll be here before the second course.” 

“Well, if the firm needed him that’s perfectly reasonable,” she clears her throat right then, eyes cutting over to Henry, and he knows exactly what’s coming next. The same old diatribe about how he’s such a failure, such a disgrace to the Mountchristen name. A family that’s been the crown jewels of each and every antiquity in every Major city in the western hemisphere for the past half century. How Philip’s the only one who’s adopted a good head on him, and how Henry should’ve gone into politics or the Marines or become some sort of hot shot investment banker who makes millions on the hour. Not just some frivolous writer, a damn journalist living in Soho like a bohemian tosser. (Her words precisely.)

Henry’s heard all of it before, breathes in to prepare for the worst of the tongue lashing. He’s only mildly surprised when it’s his mother who speaks up in her timid, unaffected tone to stop it before it begins.

“Let us just pick out our soups, shall we?”

“Ahem, yes. I’m famished,” Henry tacks on, gazing at her thankfully, watching as she runs a hand through her blonde hair— the same shade of his own.

“As long as there’s no onions, the little tyke won’t take even the smell,” Beatrice adds on with a small smile, and the moment passes. His Grams goes back to fuming about all she’s heard on the news, Philip’s gone back to tossing barbs with Beatrice, and Henry’s back to wishing he were anywhere but here before discretely checking his phone for the sixth time in as many minutes.

His stomach sinks at the realization that Alex still hasn’t called or even sent a text. 

“And what of you little brother?” Philip asks, tone vacant of any real interest. “You’ve been seeing a new bloke you wanted to introduce us to, haven’t you? Don’t tell me he’s already old news.”

Henry feels the furious flush spilling across his cheeks at the not so subtle implication that for some reason Henry goes through partners any quicker than he or Beatrice had at his age, and he really wishes he hadn’t gone through the standard Mountchristen indoctrination of not using a voice beyond a soft murmur in public because he’d really like to yell at Philip right about now. Yell at  him for being a beyond annoying, homophobic wanker right in front of everyone. Thankfully, the pure anger is belied by the sudden, and crippling familiarity of Alex’s voice cutting through all the rest. And it’s like Henry’s been filled with helium once he turns slightly and finally catches sight of Alex, his Alex. Alex in that dark suit that makes him look like a Brooks Brothers advert, and Alex who’s always the most incandescent  point in Henry’s world without even his realizing it. Even at the start of all of it— at the start of them, when they had first met and Alex was a god forsaken prat about everything— contrary to his core— And sure, Henry admits he was being intentionally pretentious and perhaps a wee bit waspish whenever Alex got on a soapbox and began  one of his diatribes about how heroes are the most incredible, selfless sort of folks in a community. And sure, wherever one of them pushed the other had to dig his heals in the sand and stay firm just to make a point, just to make the other work that much harder and notice him that more intensely. But the last year has incorporated  something totally knew— something uncharted and scary and dangerous— like at any moment they could step on a landmine— but its also been the most miraculous year of Henry’s life.

It’s been a year of sloppy snogs exchanged at midnight underneath a thousand polluted stars and amidst a symphony of honking city horns. A year of tangled limbs and sweaty sheets and laughter pouring out soft lips. A year of spilled hair on shared pillows and shirts tumbling together so many times that they just begin smelling like a cocktail of the both of them, together. And if he’s being honest, Henry doesn’t exactly know what this is, what it means. All he knows for sure is that he could spend the rest of his days merely parsing out all the varying shades of brown that dance in Alex’s molten eyes and he’d be content. And Henry frankly doesn’t care how utterly love sick that sounds.

“Alexander,” Beatrice— Henry’s saving grace— is the one to crow in greeting, excepting his hug before he takes the spare seat besides Henry.

“I’m so sorry I'm late,” he says with slightly labored breaths, as if he had run the entire way here. “The traffic coming up was all levels of awful.” In a tender sort of motion he quickly brings up Henry’s hand— the one he had interlocked with his own once being escorted to their table, and kisses it hurriedly.

Henry is blushing for an entirely different reason now.

“Never mind that Alexander,” Catherine waves off his excuse with a flick of the hand, a thin smile on her lips. Henry knows that Alex reminds her of Arthur, and Henry is both delighted by the notion and so sad that the only times he ever sees his mother with even a slight flicker of life to her vacant eyes is when she’s thinking of her husband who had died nearly a decade ago now. But that’s hypocritical, and Henry knows it. After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to be over that particular wound anytime soon.

“You missed the appetizer,” Philip tells him briskly.

“Perfect, I’m trying to keep this trim figure,” Alex winks and the rest of the table fall into quiet chuckles.

Henry beams, his  chest threatening to burst at the seams. THat’s his boyfriend. An insanely charming, insanely beautiful, supernova. 

Henry clamps his hand on Alex’s thigh out of view from everyone  else and they share a smile before being pulled back into conversation with Beatrice about her Mommy and Me class, and it’s all splendid.

.-

“They liked me,” Alex preens a few hours later, once everyone disperses and goes back home. The sun’s beginning to dip into the horizon and clouds are beginning to gather overhead as they walk the New York City streets, headed to Henry’s loft with interlocked hands.

“They would’ve liked you more if you weren’t so late,” Henry needles just to make a point, not actually mad. It’s kind of a set in stone characteristic of his. Alex is always, without falter, late to just about any function. It use to crease Henry— back before when they were just bickering acquaintances with a rather brutal amount of unresolved sexual tension, but now it’s kinda endearing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, face going a bit pale. “Luna really needed Nora and I to stay longer at the lab. That sample he collected at the bank robbery last week after The Ranker’s attack  started multiplying, like it’s a living blog thing.”

“So you’re growing some homemade mutants,” Henry snorts, knocking their shoulders together. 

“I’d really like to say that smug isn’t a hot color on you, but your ass seems to make everything work,” Alex sighs, long suffering, as he gives Henry an appreciative once over— special focus paid to his aforementioned ass.

“And I’d like to say that my boyfriend isn’t a pervert, but alas,” Henry laughs ebulliently  when Alex hip checks him, almost not noticing the buzz to his phone. It’s a message from Pez, a tip on none other than  The Ranker’s whereabouts.

“What’s up Henryson, your face is getting all weird. And not even the hot way like it does when I wear my old lacrosse uniform for sexy times.”

“I’ve got to go,” Henry says, by rote as he tries to flag down a taxi with a emphatic hand.

“I knew it, you have a secret boyfriend,” Alex snorts.

“You say that as if I could handle even one of you,” Henry counters, relieved once a cab slows down, catching sight of him.

“So the sudden franticness?”

“The Ranker, he’s over at time square making some sorta announcement.” Henry explains, swoops forwards to kiss him goodbye before swinging open the cab’s door and slamming it shut. “June would have a conniption if I didn’t get some live video!”

Alex’s expression completely drops now, sticking his head through the window and preventing the driver from speeding away as Henry would prefer. 

“Lucky for you that the dude you’re nailing is the editors brother, she’ll give you a break.”

Henry tries his hardest not to roll his eyes at him, wondering if it’ll always be a point of contention that Henry’s work practically demands that he’s at the epicenter of these showdowns between these superheroes and their villainous counterparts.

“Love, you know as well as I that  if the Harold gets a story published before us one more time your sister will have an early death from a certified aneurism.”

“You folks across the pond really like your hyperboles.”

“And you Americans really like making your boyfriends late for potentially groundbreaking news.”

Alex furrows his brows, that familiar dent of worry between them when he frowns at henry. “Promise to be safe.”

“Always,” Henry kisses the tip of his nose before unceremonially pushing him out and directing the driver to take him as close to the action as he possibly can.

~*~

Alex can’t help but watch Henry becoming a dot into the distance, silently willing him not to be dumb and not getting himself into danger. Though he’s pulled out of it by Nora and June’s frantic texting in their group chat, so with a heavy, put upon  exhale he dashes behind the dumpsters across the way and changes into the costume he always keeps in his messenger bag. Taking him five seconds to a normal person’s ten minutes.

“Have you not been paying attention, like at all!” Nora’s voice is the first to crackle through the line of his built in bluetooth, sounding beyond bothered.

“I was with Henry,” Alex says in defense, the roads become nothing more than a dust in his wake as he runs faster than what could have ever been feasible before. “June, don’t ya have any control on which reporter takes which case? Like why can’t he ever just like write something on an old lady’s kitten being rescued by a fireman.”

“Sorry baby brother, but he wouldn’t have it even if I tried, besides he and Pez are like the best duo that the Sentinel’s seen in years.” June says apologetically, and Alex can only roll his eyes. He knows that Henry is too fucking hard headed for his own good, but still, he’d rather if his completely human, and utterly breakable boyfriend weren’t trying to get himself killed every time one of these hotshot villains want to have a temper tantrum.

“Whatever, just give me the coordinates, yeah?” 

.-

It’s only been like five minutes since The Ranker began his weird tirade, but everything’s already  been swallowed into complete chaos, with people screaming, and at least six car accidents, and all topped off by the ranker’s nauseating cackles pounding through the air.

Alex gives a quick once over, sees that Henry still hasn’t made it here yet, and thanks the lord for small blessings. He’s determined to finish this quickly and with no fanfare.

“The City is infested New Yorkers! And I’m here to clean it from the vermin!” The Ranker is in the midst of shouting, but Alex can’t tell from where.

“Three buildings down from Radio City,” Nora tells him. Alex is always sorta spooked on how she could practically read his mind like that, but doesn’t have time to think on it, to busy scaling the building in question and coming face to face with The Ranker— well as much as they could be considering the whole mask ordeal.

“Ranker!” He exclaims once the man in question finally turns around, ugly smirk on his lips.

“Aw, and the greatest vermin of them all,” he says through a small mike that distorts his voice into something low and scratchy, like gravel that Alex would really like to step all over. 

“Shucks, don’t go and start complimenting me,” Alex harrumphs, swinging an uppercut to his lower jaw and dodging the kick he aims in turn. “Would you just leave us alone already!”

“Just as soon as you flee this city! And stop getting in everyone’s way!”

“Way to do what exactly?” Alex ducks when he tries to punch the side of his head, parrying with a swift kick to his ankles, but the bastard is too quick.

“This city doesn’t need you Torpedo! It doesn’t want you!” He bellows.

“Is that why I didn’t get the customary Easter fruit basket?” Alex asks, faux owlish, as he rams into him. The Ranker gathers his footing and jumps off the building. It’s of course too good to be true, and he only has to press a button midway down to land smoothly with boots that have some sort of rocket contraption built into them.

“Oh damn you.”

“Yo Alejandro!  This isn’t being filmed for VH1 so can you just snip out those one liners and just tie him up for the cops or something!” Nora says, exasperation tinged with actual worry.

“I’m trying, but he’s like in new form since last time he showed his face!” Alex defends, jumping from ledge to ledge before landing only feet behind him. At least seven cop cars have already piled up around them, and a ridiculous amount of people staying to watch. God damn it, have they ever heard of self preservation! Alex would like to call them all idiots, but then spots a glint of gold besides an actually decent cop, Amy— and he relents that they might not be actual idiots. To be frank,  Henry’s the most brilliant person he’s ever known, Even if he acts like a doofus.

“Back away!” Alex yells to the throng of onlookers and reporters and officers. “He’s armed!”

“Oy, why we aught to trust you speedster!” A nondescript man shouts from the crowd.

“Maybe because I’m the only person who’s preventing him from squishing you guys like bugs!” Alex replies, screaming now. He knows he shouldn’t let petulant folks like that get in his head, but god damn it, even while rescuing them, they can be so damn ungrateful.

“Alex from behind you!” Nora yells through the speaker, and Alex manages to duck in time when the Ranker throws a particularly hefty slab of stone his way.

“Fucking hell.”

“Are we just going to be running in circles? Or are you going to just give up before I actually have to hurt you,” Alex yells, feet planted on the ground and glaring daggers his way. 

“It’s you who will be hurt you little pest,” The Ranker cackles, brings up his fist and begins pressing a button on his black glove that shoots out a blast of heat, leaving nothing but ruin init’s wake as he begins shooting indiscriminately. First at Alex, (which he obviously dodges with ease),  and then at the building behind him, and two more at the crowds who are competent enough to divide as soon as they see it pointed towards them. 

All of them besides one person. The aforementioned glint of golden that’s too busy scribbling notes into his pad to look up, and Alex’s heart literally lodges into his throat. Like an echo reverberating out a cave he can hear Pez from over head— where he usually stands atop a balcony to get the best photos— screaming Henry’s name, and he can hear Nora and June’s dissonant shouts for him to move before The Ranker strikes again, but Alex doesn’t understand what’s going on, it’s all thanks to instinct when he catapults himself forwards to push Henry out of the line of fire— both of them dodging the blaze ever so narrowly— Alex’s costume searing with smoke— and landing in a pile of rocks from a construction scene happening across the street. 

“Ouch,” Henry mutters, rubbing the side of his head before crouching upwards.

“Are you a fucking idiot!” Alex screams, pops up defensively to guard against anything else that the Ranker decides to aim his way. Alex isn’t sure whether he’s thankful or terrified that he’s no where in sight. 

“Keep me posted if you guys track him anywhere else,” he mutters to June and Nora, breaths finally beginning to even out, despite the fact that he keeps on picturing himself moving only a moment too late and  Henry suddenly gone— like a flash.

“You got it little brother.”

“Stand ready,” Nora warns.

“I suppose I should thank you for the rescue, though I must admit that the unnecessary insult does knock you down a few points.”

Alex can’t help the small, endeared grin that cracks his face  in half, but he tries his damndest to hide it from Henry’s ever calculating gaze— His mind is made for journalism, always working to figure out a situation— measuring the facts, and interconnecting the clues for one lasting crescendo of brilliance that figures out what hasn’t been spoken out loud. Alex is mildly terrified that he’d look into  his ocean eyes and be caught out.

“What? You get rescued a lot? Have a running tally going on which Superhero deserves the crown of America’s darling?”

Alex finally turns around to him, confident in his mask having stayed in place and tempering his expression enough so that it gives off a blasé indifference— and for the record, it’s fucking difficult when it’s trained on the dude he’s in love with.

“You folks must actually  be some sort of extra terrestrial human/alien hybrid if you truly don’t know that Judie Garland could never be knocked off her perch as America’s sweetheart,” Henry sniffs loftily, goes back to his notepad, because of course he’d rather make sure his notes were all still pristine over checking if he has something as serious as a damn concussion.

“Hah, that accent isn’t exactly yankee doodle sweetheart,” Alex says with a good amount of derision, head cocked. But oh, Jesus fuck. His stomach drops out the moment Henry’s eyes go sharp and his features turn pensive when he turns to look straight at him. Alex is such a fucking idiot, using one of his primary pet names for Henry so carelessly, so thoughtlessly. 

Alex is sure that he just let a major hint of his identity drop in front of him, but with some sort of pure luck that strikes, Pez sprints over to them, breaths heaving. 

“For God’s sake Haz I saw you almost get fucking obliterated! Do you know what that wold’ve done to my psyche!” 

Henry’s face goes tight with contrition, all his attention focussed on his best friend now, and Alex sees a blessed opportunity to run off scot free. But of course things are never that easy, and right when he pivots around to race back to June’s apartment where the girl’s are surely waiting, he hear’s Henry’s voice calling for him.

“Torpedo! A moment!” He pulls away from where he was hugging Pez, and steps closer to him, face sporting that inscrutable expression it does whenever he’s particularly serious about something— the one that never fails to get Alex all hot and bothered. 

And just shit.

“Ahem, my colleague and I are reporters for the New York Sentinel. I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak on what had just played out.”

Alex frowns, confused. No reporters make it actual practice to get any sort of information from the Superheroes, it makes much more money for them just to editorialize and demagog about them to sell issues. Obviously Alex knows that the Sentinel is different, it’s headed by his own sister for fuck’s sake, and he knows that Henry is good and true. But still, it’s a surprising request.

“You could obviously stay silent and have the people equate you to that monster,” Henry shrugs— as if it couldn’t make a difference in his world. And God is he sexy all in his element like this.

“No, ah. I guess I just want  civilians to stay vigilant, the Ranker seems to be only growing in strength and resilience. I have no clue what he’s going to do next.” Alex tries to speak in his most presidential like tone, something he’s been practicing since he were a kid considering the whole his Ma’s the mayor of one of the largest cities on the planet thing.

“And I could quote you on that?” Henry asks, hand moving frantically across the page.

“Yeah of course.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” Pez tells him magnanimously and this is starting to feel real slimy— like he’s lying to them outright.

“I should go, begin mapping out what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Henry nods, straightens to his full six foot one stature. “But if you ever need help trying to predict his next move, we’re on call.” He hands Alex his business card and it takes everything Alex has within him not to burst out in laughter— as if he hasn’t had the digits memorized for years at this point.

“Will do,” he winks, but the Superman aesthetic probably crumbles when Alex accidentally trips over one of the rocks that was being thrown around before he has to gather himself and run off into the distance.

.-

In modest terms, the story published on the latest stand off between Torpedo and the Ranker completely blows up. It’s the most viral story that the Sentinel— or any New York based paper— has seen in nearly half a year. Pez chucks it up to the quote they got from the Torpedo himself, but Nora argues it’s because they plastered Henry’s face right on the byline and Alex thinks they’re both right. 

In truth, Henry doesn’t really bother figuring out why this particular story spreads like wildfire, is only proud of it because of how the article makes it so June’s face goes relieved for the first time in too long— Admittedly, Henry is also elated the morning it was released when he had gotten an actual phone call from his Grams, congratulating him for finally proving his Mountchristen lineage, soon followed up by a email from Philip that actually says he had done well. And Henry knows that neither of them should have an effect on him— especially such an impactful one— but Henry would be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t feel like he was riding on cloud nine that entire week.

But It’s begun to die down now, and Henry’s still  trying to figure out what exactly are the Ranker’s intentions for New York, and the world at large. All his subsequent attacks have been  petty crimes in comparison to trying to start an uprising. They were attempts on stealing pieces from the Met or trying to break free some inmates in one of the more unsavory prison complexes. Each one was executed by one of his henchmen, and easily thwarted by the Torpedo. It just doesn’t make sense.

Speaking of which, the aforementioned hero hasn’t once called Henry or left him any other sort of message about the offered help,  obviously wanting to go at this solo. And that’s perfectly fine, but just annoying. Henry knows it in his bones that if they just exchange information they could plot out exactly what would happen next. But whatever, Henry has more pressing issues to worry about. Namely, his and Alex first anniversary. 

Henry goes back to rearranging the breakfast tray— all of Alexander’s favorites delivered from their usual cafe a few blocks down. The both of them knowing full and well that Henry can’t cook for shit. He did however spend half the night baking and icing a small cake that’s got piped on the date of their first night out as an official couple, and Henry picked out the red and white roses— sown together by the stem and placed in a thin vase right in the center— knowing that it symbolized unity, and mutual love. If nothing else, Henry knows that he and Alex are partners through everything, honest to the core to one another and always there for the other when he needs it most.

The most important part of Henry’s world will always be Alexander, and that’s not in doubt.

Gingerly, Henry picks up the surprise, sock clad feet toeing softly into Alex’s bedroom where he’s still knocked out. He had come home from Luna’s lab so fucking late. Henry hates how hard he works for him, tells Alex as much with low complaints mouthed against his skin and caressing hands pulling him closer, and closer still every time he comes home looking a little worse for wear.

And yeah, Henry knows that they’re trying to figure out how these heroes develop their powers, knows that they hope to create immunities against it to prevent from any possible, maniacal villains. But Henry would rather it that his boyfriend didn’t look so god damn worn out near constantly. 

In a voice still quiet and raspy enough for morning, Henry tells him, “Happy one year love.” Peppering small kisses against the width of Alex’s shoulders, and slowly tracks down the dips of his spine— brushing reverently against the small consolations of freckles that dance on Alex’s hip.

Slow and groggy, Alex flips around so that they’re face to face, a hand locked in Henry’s hair and their lips barely meeting for a kiss. 

“You taste like coffee,” Alex smiles, kissing Henry that much deeper. 

“Aw, the sweet nothings you wax about me,” Henry sighs, faux aggrieved as he grabs the latte in question, making Alex sit up, the blanket pooling around their hips and their ankles intwining.

“Man if I could start everyday with a shirtless you and cup of Starbucks I swear to God I would be set  for the rest of  my life.”

“Should I be concerned that I don’t know which of those you would rather have?” Henry goads, nosing against the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be dumb,” Alex snorts, setting down the drink and curving against Henry with a tender sort of care. Henry realizes the reason for the caution when he looks down and sees how his previously concealed side is covered in bruises, ugly splatters of blue and purple that’ll fade to green and yellows in only a few short days.

“Holy shit,” Henry scrambles off the bed, nearly toppling over the breakfast he had set up. But he doesn’t care— He can’t care, not with Alex just lying there, hurt and broken and Henry can’t do a thing about it.

“What the fuck happened!”

Alex winces, like he was somehow fucking embarrassed. And no, just no. Alex can not be embarrassed over this! Okay sure, there are some funny anecdotes of him being clumsy at the lab, or Nora accidentally tackling him a little too hard against the wall. Little spoofs that left small injuries and maybe a scratch or two, but not this. Never to this level. And Henry has no idea how to comprehend it. It’s like he’s drowning, lost at sea trying to figure out how to help him.

“’S nothing,” Alex tries for broke with a small shrug of the shoulder, but even that makes it so he grouses with pain.

“Alexander what happened!” Henry repeats in a voice like a whip, the same one he’s used with heads of states about wars that they’re still involved in, or police chiefs about unjustifiable shootings executed by their officers onto innocent youths. 

“It was a couple of punks when I was walking home last night,” Alex finally admits, worrying on his inner cheek. 

“What did they want!” Henry bellows. “Did you make a police report! Did you get a decent look of them? Or—“

“Baby, it’s fine,” Alex soothes, climbing out the bed so that he could stand in front of Henry, rubbing comforting hands up and down his arms. “It was not a big deal, they got my wallet, but we both know I’m broke as hell.”

“Why are you being so glib about this!” Henry says in a voice that shakes. “Is this why you came home so late last night. Did they threaten you? Was Nora there? Is she alright?”

“Everyone’s fine sweetheart, Nora wasn’t there and they didn’t threaten me. Just wanted some cash.” Alex moves to kiss across Henry’s jawline, each  corner of his mouth too, while he slings his arms around Henry’s narrow waste. 

“’S because of this bullshit zero sum game the Ranker has got going on with that Torpedo prat,” Henry hisses, feeling like a powder keg ready to blow. Alex stiffens slightly beneath him and he knows he’s thinking the same thing. 

“It was just some stupid pricks Henry,” Alex says quietly, there foreheads pressed against each other. “Now please, don’t let this ruin our day. I know your love sick, pisces ass has got a whole romantic production planned out, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Breathing in deep, Henry nods, just slightly, agrees to go on with their anniversary plans.

“You really must think highly of yourself if you think I’ve spent that much effort on you,” he jokes, and Alex throws back his head in lovely peals of laughter and it’s all alright. For now. It’s all alright for now. 

Henry lets Alex drag him back in bed, lets him map out Henry’s body with his lips and hands and arches up towards him wantonly when Alex laps his tongue around his dick— a promise of so much more. 

Henry lets Alex wash over him, lets him think that this conversation has ended, lets him not worry about how Henry’ll take this in his own hands.

~*~

“Numbers on Henry suspecting that you spend your night masquerading as New York’s Walmart version of Batman?” Nora asks a few  days after Alex and Henrys anniversary while they write down the new growths showing on the mole collected from one of the Ranker’s more recent city attacks— an ugly black blob that only seems to be growing larger day by day.

“Honestly? I dunno. He seemed to buy the excuse that it was a mugging.” 

“But?” June presses, staying a good distance away from them with her lunch, all of them agreeing that they needed to regroup as soon as possible after the latest  incident of the Ranker attacking another jewelry shop on fifth avenue only last night.

“But, I just feel guilty about it. About the lying I mean. Henry and I don’t lie to each other, we’re like the exact opposite! We’re painfully honest.”

“Honest about everything besides what matters?” Nora sniffs, poking the blob with a stick he’s almost positive is meant to be used for mixing people’s coffee and creams. 

Alex tosses her the bird for that one, more than a bit cross over the whole ordeal.

“Alex, you’re only trying to protect him,” she says, dark eyes earnest with understanding. “I know that this is a sucky situation but would you rather risking one of these crazy villains piecing together that he’s like the one person you’d give up the world to save.”

Alex’s cheeks flush, lips pursed as he glances over to June who’s being uncharacteristically quiet.

“You think otherwise?” He asks, waiting for her to meet his gaze from where it’s concentrated on fiddling with her salad instead.

“Am I allowed to have an other opinion?” She asks, lips pinched.

“Course you are Bug, you know that.”

“Well then I think you should just tell him.” She charges, sudden passion vibrating in her tone.

“Did not see that one coming,” Nora intones as an aside.

“Alex, you saw how Mom trying to protect Dad blew up in their faces. She didn’t talk about any sorta legislation or anything she was trying to get past so that he would never be questioned about staying impartial as a congressman, and it only paved the way to their divorce.”

Alex feels like a rush of vertigo has just hit him, like he’s about to be sick.

“This’s different,” he contends, admittedly very weakly— But it is! This is Henry’s actual life at hand! Not the reputation he might garner from a bunch of smug politicians.

June frowns fully now, looking like she’s trying to throw Alex a lifesaver that just keeps slipping out his hands.

“No Alex, no it’s really not.”

The air around them goes taught, and Alex feels very queasy with the revelation that her words ring true.

“Can we put a pin on this you guys,” Nora asks, frantic. “Our lovely friends just blew up a couple of empty vehicles down in Brooklyn and it’s kind of a shitty situation.”

“Right,” Alex dashes to change into his distinctive red suit, tells the girls to stay on call for him.

“Stay safe,” June pleas, like she always does.

“Of course,” Alex promises, like he always does.

And the remaining discomfort from their argument dissipates because of course it does.

~*~

Henry admits that this is perhaps the dumbest, most idiotic, incredibly thoughtless plan that he has ever come up with, and that’s precisely why he hasn’t told anyone of his intentions. Not June, certainly not Pez, and God forbid Alex ever finds out. But the thing is that if this works, Henry could help put an end to this chaos for good, and maybe that’s worth the risk?

 Well at the very least, Henry hopes it’s worth  it as he swallows down hard and steps on a ledge, a perfect position to witness the current battle playing out in the Williamsburg streets. The Ranker— even more humanoid looking from the last time Henry’s seen him— a sort of slimy sheen shining against his black suit while  he’s practically roaring as he thrashes around, trying to hit a beam of light that Henry knows is the Torpedo, moving so quickly that the normal human eye can’t even focus on him before he makes a hundred more attacks. But like every time before, the Ranker seems to get a signal of whatever he’s been trying to do has been complete, and he ends it.

The Ranker  shoves hard enough and fast enough at the Torpedo  That he hits a building so hard that it begins to shake, and escapes as quickly as a blink of an eye.

Henry sees his chance, and he jumps for it— quite literally.

“Oy, Torpedo!” He shouts, knowing that with his superhuman abilities he’ll be able to hear Henry through the turmoil. And as expected, he stands up— shaking off the Ranker’s latest attack— and looks up towards where Henry had called him from— the top of a five story building.

“Here goes nothing,” Henry mutters to himself, eyes clenched shut a he sucks in deep and jumps— feeling the air whip against him with a vicious sort of vindictiveness— like wind spirits were real and they were laughing at how fucking stupid Henry is for playing with fate like this. And all Henry could do is hope that his Grams puts up a nice memorial bench for him once he becomes a splatter on the pavement.

But then— in an instant— Henry feels a body colliding into his own, and the breath being knocked out of him, before the pair of them stop in the middle of an alleyway, and it’s all Henry could do not to lock his knees and puke all over the crisp suit of the Torpedo.

“Mother of Christ it worked,” henry pants in wonderment of himself, one hand slamming against the wall directly behind him, while the other arm is slung around his stomach.

“You fucking maniac!” Is the first thing Henry hears from the Torpedo once they’re on safe ground— though he still looks like he’s swimming in open air if anyone were to ask Henry.

“It— Ahem, it was the only sure way to get your attention,” he defends, admittedly pretty weak but whatever.

“God Henry! Can’t you be like a normal reporter and ask to become a cable talking head!” The torpedo bellows, but Henry is gleeful.

“You remember who I am?”

The Torpedo goes still— stuttering on whatever he was about to say next, as if Henry had caught him in some sorta filthy lie.

He glares with a harrumph. “Course I do, you’re the idiot from before who almost died because he’s stupidly inattentive towards himself. I’m starting to think that’s a trend with you.”

Henry twists up his lips, unamused but reasoning that being cross won’t help him if he’s trying to work with this prick.

“I'm also the guy who gave you my number so we could sort out this Ranker business once and for all.”

The Torpedo rolls his eyes at him, weight slung to his left hip and arms crossed incredulously against his chest. It’s such a painfully Alex move that Henry starts to feel reinvigorated, reminded of why he’s doing this in the first place.

“Listen, I get that guys who look like you probably aren’t that accustomed to what a blow off is—“

“I’m not trying to seduce you asshole,” Henry spits, he admits it might come off a bit menacing but the head on this guy, Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m happily in a relationship.”

The Torpedo looks strangely pleased with this news, but Henry doesn’t spare anytime trying to figure out what that might mean. Working with him is going to be fucking exhausting.

“Alright goldilocks, then why the hell did you want my attention so damn badly?”

“Oh fuck, do you just not listen! For precisely the reason I had told you! I want to put the Ranker away, for good.”

The Torpedo’s mouth hardens into a straight line, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“’S too dangerous for just a normal human.” He says, and Henry’s just not going to stand for it, a fire like rage licking up his insides.

“I think I can decide determine that for myself.” He says, mulish.

“I thought we’ve come to the consensus that you shouldn’t be trusted for your own well being?” He needles.

Henry’s over the small talk.

“Look, my boyfriend— the man I intend to marry one day! Was roughed up by some of the Ranker’s fucking little minions, and the amount of people this must’ve happened to is probably astronomical! So you listen up, I’m not going to just stand around idly by. I know for a fact that we’ll figure out his intentions much quicker together than apart! So for the love that is holy and right will you just stop being a complete wanker and agree to work with the lowly human,” Henry says this all without barely a breath between words, not having noticed just how close he’s gotten to the Torpedo, how their eyes are boring into one another’s now with a sudden, heated intensity. 

A silence lapse between them, but Henry doesn’t stand down.

“You’re intent on this, huh?”

“To a grave degree.”

Another silence before the Torpedo just shuts his eyes, tilting his head like he can’t bother to argue anymore. 

“Fine. Let’s talk it out.”

The tension building in Henry’s chest finally deflates, replaced by a sort of remarkable brightness that makes his insides buzz with excitement.

“Wonderful! I work over at the Sentinel’s headquarters right past the Meat Packing District, on forty-second. Meet me there Wednesday night.” Henry instructs, probably a tad too enthused, but he doesn't care, he finally’s getting somewhere.

“Hold up Goldilocks, i said I’d work with you, not the whole damn paper.”

“Don’t get your pants in a twist, folks work outside the office on Wednesdays usually, and it’ll be late enough that we can take up one of the conference rooms without anyone interrupting.” 

The Torpedo smirks now, and Henry already knows what’s coming.

“You sure you’re not trying to seduce me darling?”

“Wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, I don’t really go for guys in spandex,” he retorts.

“Hey! ’S good material for the shit I have to deal with!” He defends, affronted sounding.

“I’m sure, but I’m running late for a lunch date as it is, so just bring the intel you’ve got on’m Wednesday and we’ll converse then.” Not really sure what to do, Henry awkwardly claps him on the shoulder before exiting the alleyway, an excited smile breaking his face in half as he thinks of all the change they could do now.

~*~

Strange enough, it becomes a sort of standing meeting for the next few weeks— Like Alex and Henry were adding a second date night to their schedules. Well a date night where only one of them knew the other’s identity, and where they spent the whole time perusing through stacks of files ranging from the dates and locations of the Ranker’s attacks within the past year, from any new gang activity that had sprung up afterwards. Also a date where Henry studiously sat as far away from a masked Alex as possible, and who remained stiff for the entirety of the two hours they would talk. 

They end up successfully predicting the two next places that the Ranker targets, and it’s a thrill. Alex however makes it a point that Henry isn’t allowed anywhere near the area until Alex has surely staved the Ranker away. It’s a point of contention between them, but it’s a point that Alex won’t budge on.

He knows Henry, knows how he strives for the public’s safety the same ways Alex does, but where Alex was hit by a molecular transmitter when he was only nineteen— giving him powers and abilities beyond comprehension— Henry’s only got a pen and paper as his main weapons of defense. And Alex knows this vendetta runs even deeper than that for him, knows that Arthur— Henry’s dad who played a hero in Hollywood films— was kidnapped and eventually killed by a Luthor family member, directed by Lex behind bars. 

Alex sees the glitter in Henry’s eyes, the vigor embedded in them. And it what makes him want to lock the Ranker up, more than anything else. 

“You’re intense Mountchristen,” Alex tells him on one of those Wednesday nights, can’t help but gaze at the way Henry sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and how his brows begin to knit together, intent on his goal.

“Eyes to yourself Torpedo,” he retorts shortly, not bothering to even look up.

Part of Alex really appreciates how standoffish he behaves in front of dudes who are so obviously into him that aren’t Alex, but most of him hates the distance, hates the secrets that they’re both keeping from one another. It feels like the foundation between them is literally crumbling, even though they’re both doing this to ultimately protect the other.

“What a strange and convoluted circle you’ve ensnared yourself within,” Nora says on the night of the Sentinel’s first summer fundraising event, popping a bite sized snickers into her mouth as she lounges on her sectional in a little black dress that makes her look like a million bucks.

“You’re really unhelpful,” Alex informs her bluntly, adjusting is tie in the mirror after replying to Henry’s text that they’re headed down to meet him and June in five. 

“Well you know there’s only one sure fire way to escape it,” she crows, smile going snide as she stands up. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve begun drinking June’s crazy person juice,” Alex moans, really needing her to have been on his side for this. 

“You know they called Van Gogh crazy, and he was a genius who saw what others were too dumb to.”

“No Nor, they called him crazy because he ate yellow paint and cut off his ear as a gift.”

Nora cuffs him on the back of the head. “You’re being crass.”

“Ouch,” Alex squints, rubbing the tender spot. “And you’re being especially mean.”

“Only because you’re so dense sometimes,” Nora sniffs. “Now c’mon we were suppose to be there like an hour ago. What were you even doing all this time.”

Alex goes back to checking his reflection, absently gesturing towards the abrasively yellow binder on his coffee stand that he’s begun keeping here, less Henry accidentally finds it while rummaging around in Alex’s place. 

“Just going over some of the information Henry and I have been gathering, reading through it and everything.”

Nora flips it open, perusing through the papers leisurely. “And what have you guys found out in these little trysts of yours?”

“First of all, shut it,” Alex casts her a glare, just for good measure.  “And not much. There’s no real rhyme or reason to his attacks, except we did figure out that like after a month from the initial incident, there’s another one hitting the same place by some of his mysterious henchmen, like a month later— on the very dot.”

“The very dot?” Nora asks slowly, her voice adopting that tension it does when she’s piecing something together she wishes she wasn’t. Like the time she figured out the dude who owned their favorite frozen yogurt place in Brooklyn was actually the same person robbing a series of banks with his uncanny ability to literally turn into gas.

“Yeah—“ Alex turns around, rigid as he prepares for her next blow.

“Well a month ago you guys have it that The Ranker hit up Time Square, don’t you?”

And like a bucket of ice water pouring over him, Alex understands what she’s insinuating immediately.

“The sentinel!”

“June and Henry.”

Before either of them could take another breath, Alex has changed into his gear and lifts Nora up bridal style, racing to them and praying to any God who will listen that they’re not too late.

~*~

The sentinel is holding a special event to celebrate the continuous and substantial donations by the Richards family to their editorial board, with special honors given to the head of the political dynasty, Jeffery Richards.

Professionally, Henry is thankful for their money flow into the Sentinel’s tireless efforts to get meaningful and factual stories out into the public sphere. Personally? Henry thinks he’s the definition of a complete and total twat, and has wished on more than one occasion to give him a swift right hook for his backwards social views and another kick in the gut for his purely one percent focussed fiscal policies. This is why Henry is shocked to find Rafael Luna, Alex’s practical idol, exchanging seemingly pleasant small talk with him near the champaign fountain. But he supposes stranger things have happened, and decides to take a swig of his gin and tonic instead of worrying about it.

Henry must admit that there’s a certain panache— a peculiar charm—  to American parties that can’t ever be replicated in quite the same way.   The people are more boisterous than their English counterparts, more willing to mingle between groups and laugh hysterically to jokes that really don’t warrant as much. Henry thinks it’s funny, especially when he considers how much less these folks drink in comparison to the upper echelon of London society— the class of folks  Henry was born and bred to become the crown jewel of, up until his unceremonial rejection of those trite ideals. Considering where he is now— working to make an actual difference in this city, and surrounded by the most important people in his world, Henry’s thankful so much for his decision.

Speaking of which, Henry sees one of those people,  catching June’s eye from across the room, matched boredom on her face. She tips her glass his way, a small, comforting smile on her lips before mouthing a dramatic, “save me.”

Henry laughs,  finishes his glass and grabs a flute of the wine  to join her but is suddenly accosted  by a older couple made up of a woman  sporting  such large diamonds hanging  off her ears that Henry’s afraid one of them might just tear off, and a man, obviously her husband, who keeps glancing over Henry’s lips and slightly exposed collarbones in the most unsubtle way ever. Jesus fucking Christ, Henry was so close to home base.

“Elias and I saw you leaving that conversation with the Galloways and simply just had to sweep in,” the woman says in lieu of a greeting. Henry recognizes them now. Elias and Barbra Bellington, one of the Harold’s most formidable backers— He reckons he should play nice then.

“I’m flattered,” Henry says with a pleasant grin, shaking her hand and then her husband’s.

“We read that latest entry you did on that masked fellow who’s been terrorizing this city,” the husband explains.

“The Scarlet one.”

“The torpedo,”  Henry nods.

“Yes,” her husband swallows before averting his gaze from Henry’s lips yet again. “You deserve a pulitzer for  finally trying to figure out who he is. It’s been nearly half a decade with him  ravaging these streets and diverting the funds and work  from our officers.”

“A scoundrel by any other name if you ask me.”

Henry is so fucking confused how they got that from his piece.

“Erm, ahem. Thank you both for the kind words, but truly, It was more about his feud with the latest kingpin, the Ranker, than anything else.” Henry tries explaining, hates it when his work gets boiled down to a few salacious bullet points for the headlines. 

“They’re all the same if you ask me, rotten and only here to create chaos in our communities”.

Henry parts his lips to retort, most likely with a too loud  argument that she’s just flat out wrong, but then his eyes focus back on Luna, watching him part ways with Richards, and he’s always been so god damn curious for his own good.

“I’m sorry but I see a colleague of mine that I actually needed to touch base with on a upcoming story,” Henry coughs while excusing himself.  “You don’t mind if I just step away for a moment,” He’s relieved when they nod congenially and promise to find him later on in the evening 

Henry exchanges congenial nods and small grins with his colleagues as he cuts through the throng, stopping in front of Luna with less nonchalance than he would’ve liked, but whatever.

“Henry,” Luna smiles broadly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping to see you here.”

“I was happy to see you around,” Henry smiles in turn, wonders if it comes across as painfully awkward as he thinks it does.

“Where’s Alexander?”

“On his way with Nora, I had to stop by a bit earlier for some business with the rest of the staff,” Luna nods and they both take sips of their drinks, perhaps a bit tensely. “So, ahem. I saw you speaking with Richards?”

Luna’s brows hike up, if only slightly.

“Yeah, he’s a big investor in my lab as well as the Sentinel. Wants to help us figure out this newest wave of super mutants.”

Henry pins him with a one eyed squint, confused as all get out why Richards of all people would want to help with something so— Well so scientific.

“I know, I was surprised too,” Luna laughs, reading his expression. “But it’s true! Even had some of his men collect those mole samples I’m sure Alexander has talked your ear off of. They’re really something remarkable Henry.” He trails off into a deeper conversation on what their existence means, but Henry stops listening, the gears in his brain turning at rapid speed. And God, it’s so obvious. How did Henry not notice this before.

“I’ve— I’ve got to go.”

Luna furrows his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“I— I don’t think so,” Henry admits, racing upstairs to the offices where he’s been meeting with the Torpedo these last few weeks. He’s not really sure what he needs to do, or how he can even get the Torpedo’s attention so randomly, but he feels it in his gut that it’s urgent.

Though he’s stopped midway up the stairs, and it’s like his stomach drops out completely once he realizes by who.

“Richards—“

“Mr Mountchristen, I was hoping to get to speak with you.”

Henry feels himself beginning to quake, stepping further back, bit by bit.

“Is— Is that right,” Henry stammers out, wincing when his back hits the wall andRichards keeps on coming closer.

“You’re bright, I saw the tricks you pulled to get the Torpedo’s attention,” he nods slowly. “It was only a matter of time till you or that scarlet scoundrel pieced it together.” 

“So, I’m right. The samples you’ve been giving to Luna’s lab, they were early archetypes of the beasts you’ve been harvesting.”

“And they say blonde’s are dumb.” Richards chuckles, twining a finger in Henry’s hair, close enough for his hot breath to smack Henry in the face.

“So what? You found an alien to harvest the cells from or are they just growing off of you? And why do it? What’s the point of all this?”

“Hmm, well  seeing that you’ll be dead  soon enough,” Richard snarls, clamping a hand around Henry’s neck, and squeezing for good measure. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you how I purposefully exposed myself to the molecular explosion that ravaged the city a few  years ago. It gave me the ability to multiply at a whim, though alas not quickly enough.”

“It took a month for them to fully form,” Henry realizes, squinting when Richards squeezes harder. He claws against the hand Richard’s is using to obstruct his airway, but there’s no hope. “And what,” he wheezes out, seeing stars glitter the distance. “You wanted to create a little army to take over the city?”

“New York should be so lucky!” Richard yells, crashing Henry’s head against the wall with such force that everything begins to fade into darkness. “Ever since that damn Claremont got her hooks into it we’ve gone down the shit hole!” 

Crack.

Henry’s head cracks the wall again, and everything blurs, stars glittering in the distance.

The last thing Henry sees before completely blacking out is the windows shattering open and a dash of red.

And oh.

.-

The next time Henry comes too he’s met by florescent lighting and white sheets, can feel the cool liquid of an IV pumping into his wrist.

He can hear people calling his name, but he can’t focus on it, can’t focus on anything. All he wants is Alex, and he can’t believe the secrets he’s been keeping from Henry all this time. The secrets henry has been hiding himself.

~*~

Alex has been up a total of forty-three hours at this point, but he shrugs off any of the well meaning suggestions given by his friends or the doctors to finally shut his eyes and go to bed. He can’t. He won’t. Not until Henry wakes up permanently and he looks at Alex with his beautiful, cornflower eyes, and smiles at him with that heavenly grin, and twines their fingers into one another. Exactly how they should be. 

God, Alex can’t believe how stupid he’s been. Keeping these secrets from him, trying to protect him all this time, but it ended up pointless. Henry’s here, golden hair fanned on eggshell sheets and blue veins tracing his pale skin and looking like some sort of modern day sleeping beauty—  an etherial being— that Alex can’t dream of ever touching again.

Alex kisses Henry’s hand, swears that he’ll be honest and forthcoming just as soon as he wakes up and Alex  can look back into those bottomless, blue eyes for all the time to come.

.-

The exhaustion must’ve caught up to him, because suddenly everything goes dark and Alex’s next memory is of a gentle hand carding through his hair. He opens his eyes to find Henry peering down at him, crooked grin looking all levels of endeared.

Jesus, Alex is so lost on him.

“Morning gorgeous.” Henry says, still looking far too fragile for Alex’s liking in that hospital robe and with like half a dozen machines hooked up to him, but it doesn’t stop Alex from kissing him with all he has. 

“You fucking bastard, don’t you ever do that to me again.” Alex pleads wetly, hands cupped around Henry’s face and never wanting to let go.

“Well Alexander, if we’re being fair, I think I’ve still got a hundred other chances to unwittingly make you terrified.”

Alex frowns now, the realization slowly coming over him to what Henry’s words are alluding towards.

“You know!”

“I figured it out Torpedo,” Henry says, soft enough so that Alex has to strain to hear him.

“Bu—But when?”

“I think the between the second time Richards tried knocking me out, and you crashing through the office like some sorta renegade. Also you are not slick Alexander, the way you were checking me out during those meetings was frankly obscene.”

Alex feels his cheeks redden, disbelieving laugh punching out of him.

“I can’t help it, you’re really sexy when you’re all in your element.”

Henry smiles sweetly at him, turning his head to kiss one of Alex’s palms still clamped around his face.

“Says the literal superhero that millions of people around the world thirst over.”

Alex sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, wrestling down a grin.

“So you’re not mad that I kept this secret  from you?”

“Oh I’m furious,” Henry corrects. “But I reckon you’ve got a lifetime to explain your actions to me. And I might have been guilty of the same sort of indiscretion, if you squint.”

“Hah, just like a Brit, trying to absolve himself of the blame,” Alex snarks, kissing Henry’s tongue when he sticks it out to waggle at him. 

“Gross.”

“Think you mean sexy."

“Where’s Richards when you need him,” Henry sighs, faux put upon.

“Not funny,” Alex fumes, is only restrained from flicking him on the ear considering his current predicament.

The laugh that Henry lets out right then is something mellifluous and beautiful and what Alex could listen to on a loop for all the eons to come.

“No but truly, what happened to that prick anyhow?” 

“Tied him up with the evidence we collected, and called Officer Amy to make the arrest.” Alex explains, threading his fingers through Henry’s hair. “He’s locked up now. Probably’s gonna stay that way for a while.”

“So it worked out?”

“Henry, no situation in which you are at all injured is things working out,” Alex reproves caustically. 

Henry shakes his head at him. 

“God, such a softy Alexander.”

That time Alex does flick him on the ear and isn’t even sorry about it.

.-

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