Levkeee
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The man straightened a little, like he was preparing for a performance. “Security,” he said with a nod.
Henry raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know the Conellis had hired security.”
“Should they have told you?” the man asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Henry blinked, caught a bit off guard. “Well... not necessarily. I just... I own the bookstore.” He pointed toward Fox & Pages. “Right there.”
Recognition dawned in the man’s expression. “That’s your store? With the cute string lights in the window? That place looks incredibly cozy. Like, dangerously easy to spend hours in.”
Henry chuckled, surprised by the genuine enthusiasm. “That’s the idea.”
The man laughed—a rich, warm sound that made Henry’s skin tingle.
“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” he said. “Who should I ask for?”
“Henry,” he replied. “And you are...?”
“Alex.”or Henry owns a bookstore and just happens to meet Alex in front of future crime scenes
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A deep, calm voice with a British accent came through Alex’s headset: “This is Military One, requesting emergency landing.”
Alex perked up. Oh. That sounded like fun.
The tower responded immediately: “All runways are full. Stand by.”
Wait—what? Were they seriously about to bump him from landing so some military-sounding mystery jet could cut in line?
Before thinking it through (which was really more of a hobby than a habit), Alex keyed the mic: “Wait, hold up—I was next to land!”
The Brit came back, smooth and smug: “Yes, well, we’re military. You’ll have to wait.”
Excuse you?Or Alex is a commercial pilot and Henry is flying for the military. They meet over communication channels.
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Then Henry’s phone rang. He stopped mid-stride, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. Raised it to his ear. And that’s when it happened.
The sleeve.
It moved.
Just a little. Just enough. It slid maybe an inch—barely more than a breath—and something underneath it caught the light.
Alex squinted. Sat up straighter. Leaned a little over his desk.
Was that… ink?
No, come on. That had to be a shadow or something. A stray pen mark? A coffee stain? But as Henry turned slightly, it caught the light again. Definitely not a coffee stain.
Alex’s jaw dropped.
Was that a tattoo?
No. No way. Not Henry Fox, HR's golden boy, the man who breathed punctuality and probably had emergency spreadsheets laminated in his sock drawer. Mr. Regulation Tie Length. Mr. "Let's Circle Back On That."
But it was a tattoo. Or the start of one. A black curve just under the cuff. A line. A flick of something—like a wing? Or a piece of script? Hard to tell. But it was there.Or Alex thinks Henry is attractive but boring until he discovers more and more of his tattoos
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A (barely) kept secret by Levkeee
Fandoms: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
25 Jul 2025
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"Who’s Magnus?" Jace asked, head tilted like a confused golden retriever.
Alec rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. He crossed his arms, visibly regretting his life choices. "Magnus Bane. High Warlock of Brooklyn. You should have heard of him. He’s sparkly, dramatic, wears more glitter than Izzy on Halloween? Ringing any bells?"
Izzy jumped in, eyes wide. "Wait, that Magnus? You’re saying we can just…ask him for help? Like, directly? Do you know him? Because I’ve only seen pictures—and he looked like a walking pride parade in the best way."
Jace nodded solemnly, clearly impressed. "Respect."
Clary mumbled from behind her coffee cup, "What even is a High Warlock? Like... do they have a council? A hat? Is it a union thing?"
Alec hesitated, just for a second. See, the thing was… he did know Magnus. Personally. Intimately. Biblically. Emotionally. Cosmically. Very up close and very, very personal. But his siblings didn’t know that. And he wasn’t quite ready to explain the finer details of his very magical, very romantic entanglement with Brooklyn’s glitteriest warlock.Or Alec and Magnus have to be professional and not launch their relationship in front of Izzy and Jace.
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Fox wasn’t just a man. He was an event. An apex predator in cargo pants. Built like a Norse god who moonlighted as a security contractor. He was massive. Not just tall, but broad, with the kind of body that made Alex rethink his entire relationship with processed carbs.
Tousled blond hair. Eyes so blue they looked like high-def crime drama lighting. Cheekbones that could slice steel. Lips that seemed weirdly soft for someone who probably wrestled bears recreationally.
His black tactical jacket clung to his chest and shoulders like it, too, was in awe. His sleeves strained against biceps that had clearly been fed a diet of pure protein and vengeance. His cargo pants clung to muscular thighs like they feared abandonment. There was also a thigh holster, just in case Alex hadn’t noticed how ridiculously built this man was.
Fox stopped in front of him, radiating calm authority like a sexy lighthouse.
“What’s the problem?” he asked in a deep, British accent that hit Alex like a full-body ASMR.
Alex’s brain short-circuited. British. Of course. Tall, built, dangerous, and British. Apparently Alex was having a very specific crisis.Or Alex needs coffee and Henry needs to lead a tactical mission
Recent bookmarks
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Return to Sender by paintingadream
Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023)
20 May 2025
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When his birthday postcard arrives, Alex doesn't expect it to come with a letter from a stranger. And when he writes back, he certainly doesn't expect a reply.
But one letter turns to two, and then into dozens more. What begins as a mistake turns into something neither of them could have predicted. Something worth waiting for.
“I think I’ve been falling for you since you were just ink on paper.”
Or: the modern letter-writing AU.
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Bookmarked by Levkeee
23 May 2025