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thebadgerclan · 9 months

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Shots Fired

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox

Summary: BREAKING NEWS: White House Reports That First Son, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Has Been Shot

CONTENT WARNING: This deals with/describes shootings/gunshot wounds. Nothing is explicitly described, but proceed with caution if this could be triggering to you

A/N: I'm writing part 2 to this as we speak

Insomnia was nothing new for Henry, though after having a few blissfully restful nights in Alex’s arms, sleep was more elusive. The Prince sighed, rolling onto his side. The alarm clock read 11:25 PM, and normally, Henry would drag himself to the kitchen and make himself a cup of tea, maybe crack open his book, try to distract himself from the sleep that wouldn’t come. But something in him was telling him to turn the T.V. on. So Henry did, and he nearly vomited when he processed what was on the screen.

BREAKING NEWS: ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ SHOT. Henry barely managed to keep his late night snack of Jaffa Cakes down as he cranked the volume up, listening intently to the newscaster. “We are just receiving confirmation from Washington that Alex Claremont-Diaz, son of President Ellen Claremont, has been shot amidst gunfire in Georgetown. Information is still coming in, but we can confirm that Mr. Claremont-Diaz was life-flighted to Walter Reed Medical Center, and…”

Henry was no longer listening. He was throwing clothes into a bag, not bothering to fold them, barely looking at what he was packing. Then, his phone started buzzing. Texts from Bea, June, Pez, and Nora, but none from the one person he desperately needed to hear from. Henry pulled his charger from the wall and shoved it in his bag, zipped it shut, and threw it over his shoulder before he was running.

Shaan met him halfway down the hall. “I need to get to–” “I know, sir,” the equerry interrupted, turning on his heel, now jogging alongside the Prince. “Ms. Bankston phoned. There’s a car waiting to take you to Heathrow.” Henry nodded, quickening his pace, nearly diving into the waiting car. The ride to the airport was torturously long, and the flight was unbearable. All Henry wanted was to see Alex, to touch Alex, to know that Alex was alive. The headlines kept rolling in, none of them confirming anything, and the Prince was beginning to spiral.

Ellen’s number was in his contacts, but she hadn’t called. Nor had June or Nora. Henry didn’t blame them, of course, their attention was likely on Alex. But he was going half mad with worry and speculation. Eventually, Shaan pressed Henry’s emergency medication into his palm–pills he seldom had to take, pills he needed when anxiety and panic overwhelmed him–and he took them with no questions, dropping into a dreamless sleep soon after.

***

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Alex had set out with the intention of scoping out a new bookstore for when Henry came to visit, grabbing some lunch, and heading back to the Residence. Instead, he found himself lying on the pavement, a bullet wound on his lower abdomen, screams and pops filling his ears. Alex was by no means a medical professional, but he knew when he lifted his head that that was far too much blood.

Amy was at his side immediately, her gun drawn. Cash was there too, tearing open a package of what looked like gauze. “Sorry kid,” he said. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.” He then began packing the wound, and Alex screamed, stars popping before his eyes. Then the tears came, both from pain and from fear. Would he see his mom again? June? Henry? Alex brought a shaky hand to his face, seeing Henry’s signet ring there, flecked with blood. “Baby,” he whispered, kissing the ring. “I love you. Henry…” Everything went black.

***

There was another car waiting when Henry landed at Ronald Reagan. The Prince was barely sitting down, Shaan climbing into the other seat, when he barked an order, one he had no real business giving. “Drive.” As the car pulled out of the airport, it was flanked by five other vehicles, all black, red and blue lights flashing. At Henry’s questioning look, Shaan spoke. “Extra security, sir,” he said. “We cannot take any risks.”

Henry was anxious for the entire drive. At his request, Shaan had confiscated his phone, cutting him off from any and all communications. He had texted Bea, though, telling her he was going to D.C. and that he would be in touch. “Any word?” he asked, and the equerry shook his head. “I know as much as you, sir.” Finally, the motorcade pulled up to Walter Reed, and Henry almost fell in his haste to get out of the car.

Four Secret Service agents were waiting at the entrance, as was Zahra, who looked flighty and anxious and very unlike her usual self. “Thank God you got here safely,” she said, offering Henry a soft smile before turning and entering the hospital. She led him to an elevator, which after inputting a passcode, took them up to the President’s private wing.

Ellen was pacing back and forth, June was staring blankly out a window, Oscar was talking to someone on the phone, and Leo was watching his wife, looking helpless. When Henry appeared, Ellen startled before pulling the Prince into her arms, holding him like her life depended on it. “Oh darling,” she said, and Henry broke. Choking, ugly sobs left his mouth, and his knees gave out. Ellen maintained her grip on him, sinking to the ground with him.

“I know, baby, I know,” the President soothed, and Henry burrowed into her arms. After several minutes, Henry calmed, sniffling and wiping his eyes. “Is he…” “He’s in surgery, darlin’,” she responded. “Has been for hours. Doctors have been out a few times, so far he’s stable.” Henry nodded, trying to process everything. “W-what happened?” Ellen shrugged. “We don’t quite know. They don’t think Alex was targeted, which is something…”

Henry almost laughed. His boyfriend was lying on an operating table with a gunshot wound, he had nearly died. What did it matter if he was the target or not? But he only nodded. “Have you eaten, Henry?” The Prince shook his head. “Do you want anything?” Another shake of his head. “Alright.” They fell silent, and after several minutes, Henry extricated himself from Ellen’s embrace, moving to sit next to June.

She said nothing, but took Henry’s hand, squeezing hard. Henry squeezed back, resting his head against the window. Alex would be alright, he had to be alright. He laid a hand on his chest, feeling the chain and key there, tears pricking at his eyes. “My love,” he whispered. “Alex…” Maybe he dozed off, maybe he didn’t, but when a doctor walked in, Henry bolted upright, his heart in his throat.

“Madame President, I’m Dr. Lewis,” she said. “I was the attending surgeon on Alex’s case.” Ellen nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. Dr. Lewis saw Henry, and her eyes widened slightly, but she pressed on. “I am pleased to tell you that Alex is stable and out of surgery.” Ellen let out a sob, and Henry let out a shuddering breath, gripping June’s hand even tighter.

“He lost a substantial amount of blood, but we have a transfusion running and we’ll be monitoring his numbers.” “How bad was the injury?” Ellen asked, worrying her lip between her teeth. “The bullet struck Alex’s right kidney. Now, the kidneys are very vascular organs, which accounts for his blood loss. We were able to remove the bullet and attempt to reconstruct the kidney, but there are no promises on that front. The good news is that we all have two kidneys, and you only need one to survive. Of course, we’ll be keeping a close eye on Alex’s renal functions and other things like his blood pressure, but in my professional opinion, he is out of the woods.”

Ellen surged forward and shook Dr. Lewis’ hand, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, doctor,” she said. “Thank you so much.” “It’s my pleasure, Madame President. He’s still asleep, but he should be awake soon, if you’d like to see him.” Ellen nodded, looking back at Henry. “You comin’, Sugar?” It took a moment for Henry to realize she was talking to him, and he nodded, slowly getting to his feet. Side by side, the President of the United States and the Prince of England made their way to Alex’s hospital room, equal parts nerves and excitement filling their minds.

#firstprince #firstprince fluff #alex claremont diaz x henry fox #alex x henry #henry x alex #tw: gun violence #tw: shooting #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb #red white and royal blue

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cricketnationrise · 10 months

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hiiii this is for the ficlet fest !!!! shaan srivastava, the white house, 3:14am 😎

thank you for the prompt! i haven't written shaan's POV before, so this was really cool. enjoy! 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? TWO DAYS LEFT rules here.

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

white house, 3:14am

“Are you done packing your office?” Shaan asks, coming up behind Zahra and dropping a kiss to the nape of her neck.

“I’ve been packed for a week, Srivastava, you know that.”

Shaan hums. He does know that. The neatly stacked boxes of her things have already been whisked away by the efficient White House resident staff earlier tonight.

“If you’re fishing about my mental state about tomorrow being the Inauguration for the next president and therefore the end of Ellen Claremont’s time in the White House, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

He pulls her closer. Her words are all prickle and fire, but her body sags into his, letting Shaan hold her steady for once.

“I figured I’d give you an opening if you wanted to take it.”

Zahra just sighs, looking around at her (almost former) office. All of Zahra’s files and extra clothes and knick-knacks that Alex buys her that she pretends not to keep, are gone – only the furniture remaining. The room seems to be slumbering, or maybe holding its breath, ready for the next occupant.

“Ask me again in a week. I’ll be bored of downtime by then.”

“Deal.”

There’s a clatter in the hallway, then loud shushing noises and the careful click of a door. Shaan moves the pair of them to the doorway, curious as to who else is moving around the West Wing at three in the morning but— Ah, he should have guessed.

Through the door to the veranda, a pair of young men’s silhouettes are visible in the moonlight on the way to the garden. Alex is in front, one of his hands tangled with one of Henry’s, leading the way. Shaan drops a kiss on the top of Zahra’s head, overcome with pride for the pair of them.

Zahra makes a noise somewhere between disbelief and delight. “Those sappy little shits.”

“I wouldn’t throw stones, love – they aren’t the only ones doing a grand farewell tour of this place.”

“Yeah, but I do it with class,” she says, spinning in his arms and throwing her own over his neck. It’s been four years since he proposed, but Shaan still tracks the glint of the diamond on her engagement ring with a rush of joy. It’s even stronger since it was joined by her wedding ring last year.

Zahra rises up on her toes and he ducks his head to make it easier for her to kiss him. It’s a quick kiss, more of a peck, but she says so much with her body that never makes it past her lips. Shaan’s spent so long learning this silent language of hers, that it’s easy to parse the love and relief and exhaustion and sadness that she pushes into his mouth. He gathers all of it up and tucks it into his own heart – he’ll carry it for her for a while. For as long as she wants him to.

“Let’s go – for once I don’t have to commute here in the morning, we should make the most of it.”

“After you,” he says, stepping back and letting her lead the way toward the Residence. She reaches one hand back to tangle her fingers through his.

#cricket writes #ficlet fest 3 #rwrb #red white and royal blue #shaan pov #ficlet #post canon #gayheartstoppernerd #something something zahra and alex are more similar than they'll ever admit #and shaan and henry are long suffering about that fact

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westwingsolo · 10 months

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@carp3diems, because I can’t let them be too happy…

It was suppose to be a day to celebrate. Henry and Alex opened up their first LGBTQ Youth Resource Center in the Austin, so of course the Texas Golden Boy, Alex Claremont-Diaz was there to help him open it. In a way it was also the first project they worked on together as a couple, with Alex using some of his influence to help get Henry in contact with all the right people.

They stood side by side outside the new center, ready to leave behind the pomp and circumstance and get away to the lake house for a long weekend to celebrate in their own way. Alex already had bags packed for them, ready in one of the black SUVs to whisk them away as soon as the ribbon was cut.

Until the sound of gunfire became louder than the applause.

Alex’s first instinct was to hold on to Henry, pull him close, and to make sure that nothing happened to him. If anyone deserves to be shielded from the violence of the world, it was Henry. Henry, who was too kind, too gentle for this. It was Henry who needed to be protected, over here in America, and too far away from home.

“Are you ok? Henry! Baby, tell me you’re ok!” Hands moves across familiar planes, ones that he has touched in caressed hundreds of time, hoping he didn’t find anything different about them. For a bright moment, Alex thought they were in the clear, and when he looked up at his Prince to tell him he was fine, he was going to be ok, he was met with eyes that spoke of fear instead of safety.

“…what?”

“Alex…” Henry’s voice shook as he reached over and pressed an unsteady hand to his side. Pain flared up his hip and throughout his whole body, and when he looked down, Henry’s hand was stained with red.

He felt suddenly cold, like a bucked of ice was poured down his shirt. He left him breathless and dizzy. Alex moved, stepping away from Henry like if he was too close to his Prince, then he would share the same fate as him. But even has his mind told him to move, his body couldn’t react and he pitched forward, falling right into Henry’s arms.

The last thing he remembered before the world faded away was the sound of his love’s voice, filled with so much fear, too much fear, telling him he was going to be ok, saying it like he was trying to convince himself.

#carp3diems #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #tw: shooting #tw: blood

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bridgesbcrned · 6 months

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I'm Not Sure I Can Trust You — accepting!

@goldenboybarracuda did you mean to do that? - Alex to Henry The cold was still deep in his bones as he paced. The carpet beneath his toes was soft - like dark curls that slipped between his fingers. The chill was seeping out through his socked feet as the traitorous winter weather kept the Prince of England grounded when all he wanted to do was escape with whatever dignity was still buried beneath the frozen humiliation in his bones. Pez hadn’t been happy when Henry dragged him away from the party, declaring that they had to leave right then, but it was Pez, so he dutifully packed his bag and helped Henry find Shaan answering emails in a room far enough away from the event that the music was only a heavy bass shaking the walls. It was there, that Henry’s plans derailed. According to Shaan, the snow that started before midnight, mixed with the cold temperatures had left frozen patches on the airport runway. Planes were grounded and all the hotels nearby were sold out of rooms. So he was stuck. Pacing the floor of a room in the White House while Pez hunted for tea to sober up a little bit. So when the door to his room opened he was expecting his friend. But the voice was not what he was expecting. Did you mean to do that. Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz. The man that he is. Would of course not allow what happened to go unnoticed. It was frankly, extremely rude. “Is that not what is expected at midnight on New Year’s?” Henry huffed. Checking his watch and realizing that it was cornering 3 in the morning, which meant, the kiss happened after the traditional time to kiss strangers. Turning around, Henry moved to the window and stared at the snow. He watched as the snowflakes taunted him while they clung to the glass. “Yes, Alex. I did.” He said finally. “Now just…yell at me. Say what you need to say. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

#. *. ⋆ — henry.#goldenboybarracuda.#goldenboybarracuda: alex.#. *. ⋆ — ft. alex.#because all i can think about right now is if henry couldn't escape after the new years party LOL

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oldfangirl81 · 9 months

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Vague plot ideas I'm tossing to the universe in hopes it sparks something for someone's writing:

1. 911/Teen Wolf/Red White and Royal Blue

Timelines wouldn't have to be adjusted too much if you consider Alex the youngest of the group. In an online forum/discord during high school and college Stiles Stilinski, Evan 'Buck' Buckley, Carlos Reyes and Alex Claremont-Diaz build strong friendships that start because of the anonymity allowing it. Carlos and Alex bond over being Texas boys with a powerful parent. Stiles and Evan(no nickname yet) bond over ADHD. Carlos and Stiles bond over "folklore", Carlos learns later about the supernatural from his mother, a pack born human. They wait until the youngest turns 18 before they reveal their identities. Because of his nosey friends Buck isn't blindsided by Daniel info. When Gerard comes at Stiles again he is a little surprised to have Texas Ranger with an arrest warrant at his door, apparently his hunts in Texas had come to the attention of law enforcement. The other three new long before Alex did how he felt about Henry.

2. Marvel/Red White and Royal Blue

Young Avengers blended with MCU elements Alex, Nora and June meet Kate at a fancy political event. Kate was there with her parents. They all instantly bond. The White House Trio became great friends with the Young Avengers. Nora was closest with David and Kate. June was closest with Cassie and to some people's surprise Tommy. Alex was closest with Kate and Billy. By the time the press finds out about Alex and Henry the wedding between Billy and Teddy has happened. So while Henry's mom still gives a passionate speech to the King/Queen there is also pressure from an intergalactic royal queer couple.

#fic prompt #plot bunnies #rwrb #young avengers #firstprince #buddie #tarlos #sterek #wiccan and hulkling

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firstprince-ao3feed · 5 months

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when we first dropped our bags on apartment floors

when we first dropped our bags on apartment floors https://ift.tt/nyg7O3F by sheWritesToLiveVicariously “a whole crystalized life flashes into view, a next term and no elections left to win, a schedule packed with classes and Henry smiling from the pillow next to him in the gray light of a Brooklyn morning. It drops right into the well of his chest and spreads, like how hope spreads.” - page 414, Red White & Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston ----- And thus begins Henry and Alex’s beginning of a new life: an impulse-bought house in Brooklyn, David has two dads, frames of them and their friends & family on the mantle, waking up next to each other every morning, having morning routines and bedtime routines that involve each other, going to sleep in the same bed hours later, living in the same time zone. A family. ---- This Is Part 1: Welcome Home Words: 4929, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Welcome To New York (Henry and Alex's Version) Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: moving in, Title from a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Welcome to New York (Taylor Swift), Explicit Sexual Content, they're also so in love tho, Porn with Feelings, Cute, Boyfriends, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Praise Kink, light degradation, like very light, like if you squint - Freeform, Begging, a bit - Freeform, Switching, bc of course they do, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Top Alex Claremont-Diaz, Bottom Alex Claremont-Diaz, Bottom Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, no beta we die like my sanity via AO3 works tagged 'Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor' https://ift.tt/zipu1nc December 20, 2023 at 02:01AM

#IFTTT #ao3feed #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #sheWritesToLiveVicariously

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Sunday 18 August 1833

6 10

12 ¼

F66° at 6 ¼ and fine morning – sent off my letter wrote yesterday to Lady Harriet de Hagemann à Copenhagen - packing bag portmanteau etc Madame Decantes ill could not come - paid her workwoman and gave her the parcel 2 pair of stays 1 yard stuff like them and a dozen stays laces for M- to the care of Mrs. Hawkins 26 Dover street London - with a note to desire her to forward it to Mrs. Lawton Claremont house Leamington Warwickshire - gave also the pair new and pair old (pattern) stays and 3 pots of pâte à la rose for IN- to the care of Mr. Birmingham Wrights hotel Dover - with directions on the back of the parcel for him to forward it to Langton - paid Madame Decantes bill 850/. - breakfast at 11 - one continued bustle till 1- Letter from M- which had not time to read till after 1 - finished hastily mine to her 3 pages and ends - and 2 ½ pages to my aunt began 12th instant (and M-‘s began yesterday?) - doing up my 3 letters to lady S- de R- and the honourable Lady S- and Lady VC- written yesterday with compliments to GC. Scarlett Esquire British Embassy -all this done at 2 ½ - went down for a few minutes and took leave of Mrs Barlow and Jane and left with the former my 2 letters for my aunt and M- to go tomorrow. In passing left at the embassy my PPC for lady Grandville - Mademoiselle Ferral quite ready - off from there at 3 ½ - beautiful afternoon - pavé all the way - fine avenue out of Paris - all looked riant - pretty drive to Meaux at 7 40 - Hotel de la Sirène formerly hotel du place royal - Diligence house - ¼ hour bargaining - Mademoiselle Ferral and I got on very well - Mr de Hagemann a peasant’s son brought up the charity of a man whose daughter now takes little notice of - Dinner at 8 ½ - came to my room - at my accounts till 11 ½ proposed to M- as she would like me to have more of her money rather than less to take £300 more at 4pc to be remitted to Hammersleys 1 January next - would send her by letter a sufficient security for £500 for what I now have will be £200 with the interest due 31 December next - will not pay interest on interest if left in my hands - told my aunt Washington was to give £120 per acre for Mrs Walsh’s land if she and her son would join to give the best security they could - the money to be advanced by W- and what interest right charged till the next rent and then the money to be taken out of the rents - if the Misses Walker do not come to an agreement sign the one drawn up in a fortnight from Mr. P-‘s writing to them again an action to be commenced - to get written deposition from Timothy Spaight about the Lower brea water and my get counsel’s opinion but wish to be as quiet in the matter as I can during old Wilkinson’s life – wrote the last 12 lines till 11 40 – very fine day F66° now at 11 40 p.m.

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brettsinger · 3 months

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Mutant Massacre and More

My guest this week is comedian Rob Coleman Jr.! Why is it important that Spider-Man could be any race? How good is Charlie Cox as Daredevil? Are comic books too expensive for kids? Should Marvel and DC make cheap comics for kids to buy? Should comic book companies advertise on Tik Tok? How great is Free Comic Book Day? Should there be other national special events at comic book stores? Shoutout to Everyone Comics in Queens and Anyone Comics in Brooklyn. Do you take toys out of the box or leave them in? Does Brett have any valuable toys? How many boxes of comics did Rob have? Who were some of the Valiant characters? Who is Bloodshot? What's the deal with the CW show Black Lightning? What is the Mutant Massacre? Why are the art editions of comics cool? What did the Marauders do to Angel?

Reading list: Daredevil (Mark Waid, Frank Miller) Chris Claremont/John Byrne X-Men Fear Itself Archer and Armstrong Magnus Robot Fighter Turok Dinosaur Hunter (free with Kindle Unlimited) Faith (free with Kindle Unlimited) Bloodshot (free with Kindle Unlimited) Shadowman (free with Kindle Unlimited) Harbinger (free with Kindle Unlimited) Batman by James Tynion IV Thor by Walt Simonson Wynd (free with Comixology Unlimited) Nice House on the Lake Department of Truth Ms. Marvel Poison Ivy Black Panther by Ta-Nehisi Coates Captain America by Ta-Nehisi Coates (free with Kindle Unlimited) Immortal Hulk (free with Comixology Unlimited) Black Lightning (free with Kindle Unlimited) Batman and the Outsiders Power Man Black Panther Power Pack Batman: Court of Owls Black Lantern Saga

Watch list: Daredevil Black Lightning Gotham

Recorded 3-3-24 via Zencastr

Check out Comics Who Love Comic Books!

#comic books #comics #comedians #comedy #marvel #dc #mcu

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mastermover345 · 1 year

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projectoffice5487 · 2 years

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Have A Look That Is What The Iconic Newlands Cricket Floor Will Look Like R800 Million Later

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media-guru · 2 years

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starhallows · 2 years

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🌙Edmund 1

Edmund moments before he meets Ms Claremont

The full moon had shone brightly above Aubrey Hall the night Edmund Bridgerton arrived in this world, “after more than twelve hours of labour, Darling,” Mother would remind him whenever she wanted something from him, “the least you can do is this one thing for me.” It always varied. Sometimes Mama would ask him to dance with one of his cousins, Violet, usually, and only to keep the vein in uncle Benedict’s forehead from exploding (Edmund was rather fond of his Uncle Benedict, something that his Uncle Gregory had never accepted). She would seldom use it before pushing him in the direction of some poor wallflower that had had her eye on the ballroom for most of the night – his cousin Thomas was the one to do the job most nights, right after Uncle Colin had grabbed him by the nape of his coat and showed him the way.

When that wouldn’t work, most often because she had already used it earlier in the day, she would turn to him and whisper the exact words that would set him in action, “just like your father, he never listens to me, either.”

Just like your father.

Edmund had heard the words so many times that he had somehow accepted them as the first thing anyone would say about him. He looked just like his father. He had a temper, just like his father’s. If he stopped taking care of them, his facial hair would grow just like his father’s. He had a good head for politics, just like his father.

Not that it was bad. Not at all. Edmund loved his Father. Anthony Bridgerton had been the best teacher and companion any young boy could have wished for. He had always made time for Edmund and his siblings, spent more days with them than some thought was proper, taught them all how to ride and swim (Mama taught them how to shoot). Father had been his best friend until Edmund left for Eaton; he had taught him when to stop drinking whisky and switch to beer when he was to leave for Oxford; he understood Edmund’s moods better than any other member of their family and had guided him until he became the man he had become.

That’s why, he supposed, it had stung so fiercely when Father had denied him what he had wanted more than anything that first summer back from university.

Edmund met Mrs Fox that previous season at a party his parents hadn’t attended for some reason or another. She had walked to him, fanning a feathered fan across her chest and whispered all the right things in his ear. Edmund had fallen, fallen quick and hard, convinced himself he was meant to marry her, in love like nobody else had been in love before them.

Father hadn’t seen it the same way.

They had screamed at each other for hours, argued until they both were hoarse, fought until Mama walked into the room and begged them to stop. “If you love me, you need to stop,” she had whispered, standing between them inside Father’s study, Grandfather’s portrait looking down at them both. They had. There was little both of them wouldn’t do for her.

Edmund had left for “My Cottage” the next day, his oils and watercolours neatly packed in one of his trunks. He had heard Lottie crying inside Miles’ room for most of the previous night, and his heart had broken all over again. He spent most of the summer with his Aunt and Uncle, only responding to the letters his mother would send, at least until Alexander punched him in the arm and reminded him not to be an asshole to his siblings. He had sent a big canvas full of painted flowers for both Lottie and Mary with his next set of letters.

When he had returned to Bridgerton House next Christmas, Edmund had already had his mindset. The vow he had made firm in his heart: he would not be like his father.

He wouldn’t be a besotted fool again, he wouldn’t marry until it was essential, and of course, he would never, ever, under no circumstances, love. He would be the opposite of his father, a rake, a cad, one of those men with the skill to make debutantes and mamas blush alike, one of those that would end up in a scandal sheet if they weren’t careful enough.

There had been actresses, and opera singers, and even a couple of widows. Edmund had enjoyed his time with all of them and moved on before any of them could form any kind of attachment. He had been discreet enough that Father had never found out (Miles and Lottie had, but the former would never breathe a word about it, and the latter had been convinced after several rounds of negotiations), and memorable enough that his reputation had grown after each encounter.

He stood now, to the side of the ballroom, close to the champagne tower Lady Trowbridge had requested for her party, his eyes set on Lottie, talking to an Irish Baron near the terrace doors. That wouldn’t do. Unfortunately, Edmund hid from his mother as she looked for him with a glint in her eye and a favour to ask on the tip of her tongue.

“Edmund,” someone said, patting him on the back a tad forcefully. Edmund jumped on his spot and turned to look at Uncle Colin.

“Uncle.”

“I need you to take a young lady to the floor.”

“Can you not find Thomas?”

“Oh, no! I sent him to talk to Joanna Collinwood some moments ago. I expect them to dance to this next set. No, I need you to dance with Eliza Claremont. Lovely girl. You may know her younger brother, Jacob; he’s a new Earl at just twenty, very tragic,” Uncle Colin sipped on his lemonade. “He’s brought his sister to London for the season, and the poor chap is all alone. He needs to get her married this year, you see…”

“I see.”

“You shall do it, then? Dance with her a couple of times, will you? Make the interest believable; she’ll be drowning in suitors soon enough.”

“Sure.”

“Good lad.”

Had Edmund known what would happen after, he might have stayed rooted on the spot.

No, no, he wouldn’t.

#The ROTB Vault #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fanfiction #next gen fic

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angelsfalling16 · 3 years

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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

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arse-crack-thistle · 3 years

Text

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

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