#hidden relationship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

romione-trope-fest · 2 months

Text

Call It What You Want - Romione Hidden Relationship

Title: Call It What You Want

Author: adenei

Selected Trope: Fake NOT Dating (Hidden Relationship)

Brief Summary: In a world where there is no Voldemort, Hogwarts is just an ordinary school for witchcraft and wizardry. The Golden Trio still pass through its hallowed halls for their seventh year, but not as you’d expect. Hermione Granger, of Ravenclaw is—naturally—Head Girl, and Ron Weasley, of Gryffindor, was named alongside her as Head Boy. It’s everything Hermione’s ever dreamed of, except there’s one small problem. After a falling out in fifth year, Hermione and Ron don’t get along. Or so everyone thinks.

Word Count: 2,771 (Chapter 1 of a multichapter story)

Rating: T

TW: None

This is not how tonight was supposed to go.

Hermione rubs her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her left hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Blots of ink drip from the tip of the quill in her right hand, hovering over the box labeled ‘7 November’ on the magically duplicated parchment, soaking through and threatening to stain the old maple of the worn desk. There are other things she’d like to be doing against this desk right now instead of creating the rounds schedule like the dutiful Head Girl she is. Like writing her Ancient Runes essay.

Yes, her Runes essay is exactly what she’d rather be doing. Not this stupid round schedule that she shouldn’t even be completing alone. The Head Boy should be helping. The Head Boy who should also be back by now. The one she’s been daydreaming about for the last thirty minutes. Visions of him shoving everything off the smooth desktop to lay her down on it so they can—nope. That’s definitely not what she’d rather be doing instead.

She sets down the quill, bunches up the parchment and tosses it in the bin. “Ugh. This is stupid.”

The whole thing is stupid, really. Hermione swore to herself she’d play this whole thing cool. She can manage ‘cool’, right? It shouldn’t be hard.

Yet here she is, fixating on him, the boy who’s always intent on letting her down. Who can’t even bother being on time after he said he would.

Empty promises.

Maybe this is a bad idea, after all.

She pushes the wooden chair with leather upholstery out from the desk and escapes into her bedroom. There’s no point in staying in her uniform anymore. Tonight’s assigned Prefects are already on duty. It’s not like they’re going to come and request assistance. Hermione doesn’t know why she bothers to stay dressed until at least ten every evening.

I know why.

God, she hates the singsong voice taunting her mind. She will not think about the other reasons she’s still dressed in her uniform. How the tie makes it easy for him to pull her close. How the white button-up shirt is translucent enough to pique his imagination, making it impossible for him to hide his desire. How the loose pleated skirt can offer easy access for him to—

Nope. I said we weren’t going there.

Plus, it’s not like she’s let things go that far. Though, she wonders if that could possibly be the reason she’s so fixated on her desire right now. Maybe she needs to experience the release and then she can not be so wound up for no damn reason. Because she’s being ridiculous—she needs to get it together. When has Hermione Granger ever let her thoughts distract her to this level of being completely incapable of doing anything?

She pulls out her comfiest pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms and a matching black vest with Ravenclaw’s crest on the upper right chest. Once she’s slipped off her skirt and replaced it with the worn-in, faded fabric, she works slowly at the buttons of her shirt. Is she going to fully turn-in for the evening? Does she really not want to see him at all? Can she fall asleep without knowing why he blew her off?

With fingertips grazing the front clasp of her periwinkle bralette, she ultimately decides to leave it for now. She’s not quite ready to shut him out tonight. Not yet. She’ll give him thirty more minutes while she reads by the fire.

Still, there’s a voice in the back of her mind trying to convince her to just shut and lock her door. ‘Ice him out. Give him the silent treatment.’ But she wants the satisfaction of seeing him squirm as he tries to make some half-arsed excuse as to why he’s late.

Clearly, he’s not taking his duties seriously—not taking her seriously. What a typical Gryffindor. What on earth was Professor McGonagall thinking?

Hermione swipes the novel she’s currently reading off of her nightstand and stomps back out to the common area, plopping down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She doesn’t even need the wool blue and bronze blanket draped over the back because the fire manages to keep the small room so warm—almost too warm.

Well, something needs to keep me warm tonight.

She tries desperately to get lost in her book. It takes longer than necessary, but eventually, the plot takes a turn, drawing her in with the promise of a mysterious prince taking interest in the stubborn, independent main character who is out to prove that she doesn’t need a man to complete her.

And naturally, once she’s sucked into the witty banter of the main characters, there’s a soft click that echoes across the mostly empty space as the door opens and shuts. In walks the bane of her existence, forehead glistening with what she assumes to be sweat; the tips of his red fringe wet.

Eyes peering over the top of her book—and against her better judgment—she drinks him in as he kicks off his standard broom-riding leather boots. Damn him for bending over and showing off the sculpted muscles of his arse in those tight khaki pants. And damn her for all but drooling over it. It’s like he knows she’s going to be pissed and needs to break her resolve. The red and gold jersey doesn’t help either, given that it threatens to rip open any time his arms flex. How she’d love to grab it by the number ‘two’ plastered on his back and rip it off of him so it’ll stop turning her on when she’s supposed to be mad at him.

Yes, because getting him shirtless is going to help the anger situation.

Hermione forces her eyes back to the book, but still catches the way he beams his stupid lopsided smile at her when he finally turns around. Why does he have to be so cocky and confident and put together all the freaking time? Even when he’s not, he still manages to pull off ‘effortless’ like it’s nothing. She should be lucky he wants to spend time with her at all, given he’s so out of her league.

Sure, pair the brainy little Ravenclaw with the jocky Gryffindor fuckboy. Dumbledore probably had a right laugh making that decision. They get along fine. Ha. That’s what he thinks. Of course, they used to, before he did the one thing that fucked everything up fifth year.

Stop. Things have been fine so far. More than fine. I’m sure he has a perfectly good excuse for why he’s—

“Hey.” He breaks her out of her spiral. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran a little over, then I thought I’d hit the Prefects Bathroom to shower before heading—”

Hermione huffs a little too loudly.

“What?”

“Save it, Ron. I don’t need your excuses.”

“It’s…not? Demelza would not let up tonight. She wanted the Chasers to perfect this play and begged me to stay an extra twenty minutes.”

She raises an eyebrow and allows her gaze to settle on him, searching for sincerity in the striking cornflower blue of his eyes. Ugh, she hates how those eyes can damn near melt her with a single heated look, much like the one he’s giving her now. Like he knows what she’s about to say, but is challenging her to do it anyway.

And naturally, she does. “Right. So, then you needed a, what, thirty minute shower? In the Prefects Bathroom, no less, when you could have come straight here?”

Even though he’s goading her and should be fully expecting it, his jaw still drops. He folds his arms, and—ugh, for Merlin’s sake she needs to stop staring at the contours of his chest—shakes his head slightly. A scoff escapes his throat.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Do you really expect me to? It’s okay, you can tell me if you got mauled by your groupies. I can’t imagine having a fan club follow me around like the sun shines out of my—”

“I do not have groupies. Those fourth and fifth years are always after Harry.”

“Right—”

“And I’m not lying to you.”

“Of course you’re not. Because the first thing I always like to do after taking a shower is put on the sweaty clothes I just stripped off to get clean from.” She shoves the bookmark in her book and slams it down on the sofa as she finally stands to face him.

The frustration in his eyes shifts as soon as the words come tumbling out of her mouth. She’s not even sure if he’s still listening, given the way his eyes flit down to her heaving chest. Unabashed desire falls over his face as his eyes darken and the corner of his lip curls upward. For a split second, she wonders what could possibly possess his face to transform that way. Because it’s not entirely want. If it was, she doesn’t think they’d be standing this far apart.

Studying his expression a little longer, she wills her mind to connect the dots. She knows that look from somewhere. But…where? And then the familiarity suddenly hits her. It’s the face he makes when he finds the checkmate.

Nice try, Weasley, but you’re not winning this one.

It’s beyond annoying, not to mention ridiculous. There’s no way he can win this. Her logic is sound and his story doesn’t line up. If he thinks he’s going to get out of this one, she’d like to see him try.

He takes a step closer, but remains on the other side of the sofa. His arms relax as his hands grip the back of the sofa while he stares intently at her. “You know I have two practice jerseys right?”

“No,” she responds automatically before her eyes go wide.

She purses her lips and is tempted to stand down, but she refuses. Hermione Granger does not back down from a fight. Even if she knows what’s coming and he’s got her cornered. As much as she doesn’t want to, there’s nothing left to do but brace herself for the inevitable checkmate and prepare for a rematch.

“Mental, isn’t it? Having more than one? I mean, I could see why you’d think that—most players offer their jerseys to girlfriends or boyfriends to wear as support during matches. But considering our first match isn’t for another month, I haven’t given mine away yet. It’s still sitting in my Prefect locker—well, it was. You haven’t forgotten we have those too, have you?”

Her nostrils flare. She hates the way he gloats. “No,” she spits, knowing he won’t go on until she acknowledges the question.

“Yeah, well, you were right, though. I was a sweaty mess and didn’t want to come back looking like that. But I also know how much you like the uniform, so…it seemed like the perfect solution.”

Her jaw twitches. Okay, so he wasn’t off with another girl. Not that she really thought he would be anyway. She supposes maybe she’s just overcompensating—desperate to hear him say he only has eyes for her. But that would be delusional.

Just because they do, in fact, work well together, and they happen to have an agreement in place, doesn’t mean he’s going to be that forward. Besides, he clearly isn’t as serious as she is about their agreement given his tardiness—which further reiterates her decision to take things slow—and that’s precisely what she hones in on next.

“Yes, well, it’s already well past nine, and if you happen to recall, we were supposed to start the Round schedule for November tonight.”

“I’m aware.” His hands clench and Hermione’s gaze follows as the tightness ripples up his forearms, through his biceps to his neck and jaw.

Satisfied she’s swiped the relaxed, cocky demeanor out from beneath him, she’s certain she’ll take the next win. “Well, I don’t particularly appreciate having all the work shoved on me. Just because I’m a Ravenclaw with a high work ethic and the need to have everything organized and done weeks in advance does not mean I will be picking up your slack by completing it on my own.”

And he doesn’t need to know that I almost did, either.

“Hermione, who says I’m shoving the work off on—it’s October fifteenth—”

She cuts him off. “And we promised McGonagall a draft by Monday! Just because I can manage my schedule does not mean I’ll be bailing you out. The Heads are supposed to work together. It’s not my fault you’ve got Quidditch and Chess and all your classes to account for. I’m busy too, you know. I’ve got a heavy NEWT load, and can’t lose precious study time working on schedules by myself because you’re too busy playing Gryffindor’s savior on the pitch.”

“Are you seriously going to hold that team meeting on the Express over my head all year? I told you it wouldn’t be long and I’d be back to help. No one asked you to make the first week’s schedule on your own. I wanted to help.”

Hermione throws up her hands and turns to head to her room. “I’m not holding anything against you. I’m just saying, if I’m not important—if this isn’t important—then maybe we should rethink—”

Ron’s large, warm, freckly hand grabs hers and spins her around before he backs her into the frame of the door, his body flush against hers. It nearly knocks the wind right out of her lungs. Her spine is so erect that she almost doesn’t notice how her chest is pushed out, but when she tilts her head up to meet his gaze, she realizes very quickly that he does.

“You are important. But we have an image to maintain, remember? The one we agreed on? I couldn’t exactly tell my teammates to sod off because I had somewhere to be. They probably thought they were doing me a favor, keeping me later.”

It’s all she can do not to let her eyelids flutter shut as his hot breath hits her cheek. He definitely showered, all right. The warm, spiced scent of his soap invades her senses, and suddenly it’s difficult to think of anything else.

“I guess,” she concedes.

His knuckles graze her hips before blazing a tantalizing trail up her sides. It’s slow. It’s sensual. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of. Eventually, his fingers tangle in her hair as his palms cup her face. Twenty-nine days and counting and she’s still not used to it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be.

But before she lets herself get lost in his touch, his smell, his gaze, she notices his face split into a wide grin. He’s got one more trick up his sleeve, but at this point she doesn’t care. She just wants to feel his lips on hers. Because fourteen hours and three minutes—give or take—is far too long since the last time.

“By the way, if you’d checked the top right drawer, you might have noticed I already filled out half of November’s schedule.”

“You—what?”

His smile softens so that it’s more sheepish, but it’s still radiant as ever. “Yeah. Figured I owed you for September.”

“But we’re supposed to be doing it—”

“Together, I know. Except I’d rather be doing this instead.”

He swoops down and captures her lips with his, taking her breath away. She should really be used to this by now, but she’s not. Not even close. Her hands drift up his chest, grasping the jersey she was ogling not fifteen minutes ago, tugging and pulling at it. Because as good as it looks on him, she wants it off. Now.

His hands shift down to cup her arse, lifting her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. Her teeth scrape his bottom lip before her tongue darts into his mouth, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck,” he says as he tears his mouth away from hers, peppering kisses along her jaw and down toward her neck. “So, we’re done rowing about the rounds schedule now, yeah? Because if it’s all the same to you, I’ve been waiting all day to do this.”

Hermione tilts her neck to give him easier access as her hands rake through the soft thicket of red hair as she guides him to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Please,” she sighs with contented relief. All the tension she’s been holding evaporates with every kiss. “Though, I can think of some more comfortable places to snog other than against this door frame.

He smiles against her collarbone. “Right. Your room okay?”

“Always.”

As he carries her into her bedroom and kicks the door shut, Hermione can’t help feeling foolish for picking such a ridiculous fight. But she loves the thrill of going toe-to-toe with him because it makes the snogging—and then some—so much better.

It’s okay that he’s late—really, it is—because it means that their secret is safe. Outside these walls, it’s all an act. They’re indifferent toward each other, tolerable for the sake of being Head Boy and Head Girl. Working together only because they have to.

Little does everyone know they’re doing a lot more than working. It’s thrilling, really. Unbeknownst to the rest of the school, Ron Weasley is her boyfriend. And so far, it’s practically perfect in every way.

#submission #fake not dating #hidden relationship #romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

77 notes · View notes

waterfire1848 · 2 years

Text

Superwonderbat headcanon - The three hid their relationship for the first few months for a number of reasons. They finally decided to tell people after a news station claimed Batman was dating Green Lantern.

#superwonderbat #superwonder #wonderbat #superbat #Headcanon #hidden relationship #bruce wayne #Batman #superman #kal el #clark kent #diana prince #Wonder Woman

302 notes · View notes

rivermoodboards · 2 years

Text

billy and steve, my fav bicons

i’ve binged 3 seasons of stranger things in less than a week so this is the result

#stranger things #moodboards #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove x steve harrington #80s #stranger things season 2 #mom steve #dad billy #they are gay #mlm #mlm pride #hidden relationship #LET ME BE HAPPY #the party #harringrove #enemies to lovers #bisexual #bi pride

164 notes · View notes

smokingthemoutbasement · 2 years

Text

Since you all really enjoyed my idea for the steddie fic. Here's a bit of the outline I have drawn up for it.

#steddie #rockstar eddie #popstar steve #modern au #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic #married #hidden relationship #stranger things #st

67 notes · View notes

amchara · 1 year

Text

Love Letter Scorecard (Greysha)

Aisha, Grey (Greysha)

Wordcount: 1,793 words

Rating: Teen

Summary: Several years post S2 canon, Aisha and Grey are formidable political opponents, both holding considerable power in their respective factions as they dodge assassination attempts and try to negotiate a peace treaty. They don't acknowledge one another in public.

Privately however… well, that's a different story.

Notes: This is for the members of the Fate Discord and particularly the Greysha channel, who had me spiralling on the potential of post-canon political operators Greysha.

Also, there are only 15 Greysha fics tagged on Ao3, and in about half they're a background pairing. And that makes me very sad - think about the potential of this canon pair! Two badass, ambitious POC characters who are future political leaders with the drive to end the feud between their respective factions?? Iconic.

Anyway- also to say, please tag me in any Greysha fic, even if we've never interacted before, okay?

---

The square was rapidly filling with people, the summer sun warming on the skin and the scent of gardenia flowers floating in the air. The excited murmurings of the crowd grew as the cavalcade pulled up at the far edge.

The newly-crowned queen of Solaria and one of her Alfean advisors emerged from a shiny black car. Their heads bowed together, dark and light as they conferred before the queen strode up to the podium, long legs swishing in her baby blue power suit, blond hair gleaming under the morning light.

Whistles and cheers swelled from the crowd and the queen smiled winningly as though she hadn’t just spent the last week explaining to her people they were losing the war and would be treating for a truce shortly. She was surprisingly popular, and crowds had filled squares like these across the realm just to see her.

It was too bad it would be the last speech that she’d give, the assassin thought idly, as he checked over the final preparations, winding up the nearly invisible cord, and counting the number of civilians who would likely fall in the blast circumference. His employer had asked him to minimise casualties but as he told them, there was always some collateral damage. He watched to make sure that the Queen’s advisor was still standing close by; he had instructions to ensure she was also taken out.

A light touch on his wrist surprised him, and he turned to find a tall, dark-haired man standing at his elbow. He looked familiar.

“About to blow them sky-high?” the young man asked, and there was mild interest in his brown eyes as he looked down at the detonator trigger.

The assassin only had time to blink before he felt an unfamiliar twisting sensation crawl through his veins, and despite the urge to run, he found himself pinned in place. Like a bug.

The young man smiled and his eyes flashed. The assassin felt a scream die in his throat as his throat muscles were paralysed. The world spun for a moment and he was briefly aware of buckling to his knees, before it was finally, mercifully over and everything went forever black.

---

The girl with the water jug was being too careful, when it came to refilling the blood witch delegation’s glasses.

From her perch on the negotiator’s chair, Aisha narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Subtly she sent out a spark of magic to test. Yes, there it was. Harrow root extract swimming through the molecules of liquid. Extremely toxic and highly illegal. There was an antidote but no medkits carried it as standard, so any treatment would come too late for any one ingesting it.

Both delegations - fairy and blood witch - would be returning to their seats shortly, so she had no time to lose. It was lucky she had decided to double check her notes about the alleged Tufnell Hill massacre and had caught the perpetrator in the act.

The girl started as she almost ran into Aisha, the water swirling close to the lip of the jugs. It required only a tiny push from her; Aisha gracefully dodged the resulting waterfall.

“Madam negotiator, apologies!” The girl bobbed her head, even as she bent to pick the items up from her spilt tray.

Aisha glared at her. “These negotiations are the effort of three years of careful diplomacy. There is no room for error, even from the waitstaff.” She pointed her finger toward the concealed door that led to the kitchens. “You’re dismissed. Go tell your manager you’re not to come out to the main rooms again and that they need to send someone less clumsy.”

The girl’s blue eyes darted back and forth beyond her, as if searching for someone. Her fellow saboteur. Aisha watched as she blushed and bowed her head. “Yes, of course.” She meekly went out, her gaze darting to one of the specialists guarding the door. Amateurs, Aisha thought, noting his location. She sent a tiny flow of magic towards both of the attempted poisoners without them noticing.

Once the girl had disappeared, Aisha pulled out her phone. She texted Riven, who was acting as head of security for this summit. Two more for your team. Marked as usual. Attempted poisoning of bw water

on it like flies zeroing in on horseshit

Gross. You’ve been hanging out too long with horse boy

eraklyon has some useful phrases. Anyway do u need back up?

Nah its under control

Better be bc u know stella will have my head if u end up hurt

I’m good.

Aisha pocketed her phone and pasted on a big smile as she greeted the returning negotiating teams. At the same time, she took care of the remaining problem.

The head Blood Witch, a tight-faced woman with grey-streaked brown hair, stood up in shock. Her mouth twisted. “Our seats are wet!”

“Ooh, that is a shame,” Aisha clicked her tongue in sympathy. She rose. “We’ll attempt to find you some towels to sit on.”

Most of the blood witch team looked unimpressed at the development but their second in command, watched thoughtfully, his dark brown eyes scrutinising her. Aisha frowned, trying to school her face to impassiveness and ignore the flush of warmth she could feel rising up her cheeks.

“In the meantime, shall we continue the negotiations?” she asked.

---

The hotel corridor was deserted but even still, she was cognisant unwanted eyes were everywhere. After one last lingering look, Aisha carefully unlocked the door, and after a quick check for safety (never could be too careful), she slipped inside.

To come face to face with Grey Owens, casually lying across the hotel bed.

Her bed.

He was smirking, and held up a paper scorecard, like they’d use in ball games.

65-63, it read.

“Two more this week. You’re catching up,” he said cheerfully, swinging his legs down to sit up.

Aisha crossed her arms and gave him a haughty look. “Oh really?” she asked, her own smile blossoming. “Count again.”

Grey noted her amusement. “Oh? Did I miss more than the water poisoning at the summit?” He rose to greet her, and she was more than aware that he’d stripped down to just a white tank top. She could see his abandoned suit jacket and the waistcoat she’d admired from afar lying on the nightstand.

She stepped forward, dropping her heavy satchel on the desk chair, its contents about to burst out. She turned to shrug off her blazer, aware of Grey approaching her, his gaze dark with desire.

“Mmm, yeah,” she said casually, as he bent to kiss her bare shoulder, gently brushing aside her braids. Carefully, he unzipped her azure-coloured dress shirt, and she shivered from his fingers lightly stroking along her shoulder blades, as the shirt slid down and pooled at her feet.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” he said, his breath whispering across the back of her neck. “How else did you save my life this week?”

She smiled. “Sharpshooter covering the entrance of the summit’s conference hall - though I suppose I have to give Riven and Kat some credit for their quick-thinking when they spotted the flash of the scope from across the woods.”

“Psss, not sure that one counts, love,” he teased, circling his arms around her. “We also had a team at the ready to neutralise- but thought you should have a sporting chance, given it was the Fairies who invited us to parley, and were supposed to ensure our safety.”

She relaxed into his embrace, before turning to look up at him. She traced along his collarbone with her fingers and he briefly closed his eyes, the tense crease on his forehead disappearing.

“Well- I also took you off a hit list, actually allowing you to attend. Don’t give me that look! You know Sky still holds a grudge from the gorge battle.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t trying to kill him- and I only broke his arm,” Grey muttered.

Aisha smiled ruefully. Allowing her fingers to brush over his lips, she went on her tiptoes to place a light kiss on his cheek.

“Yes- but he doesn’t know that yet, only me and Bloom, remember?”

He sighed heavily and suddenly Aisha was once again reminded of the fucked-upness of their secret relationship. One that had slowly been burning in the background of unrelenting enmity between their respective nations.

The fact that they were supposed to be sworn enemies. That as their trust between one another had been rebuilt over the past few years, they had tried to do the same within their factions, working to bring them together - if not to a full peace - then to an uneasy truce. Both knowing that only then, if they succeeded, could they stop these clandestine meetings.

It was an uphill battle. One Aisha didn’t know would ever end.

As if sensing her emotions, Grey’s hands were suddenly at the nape of her neck, gently tilting it up. She met his gaze, full of love and acknowledgement of the task they faced.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “Remember, we don’t get maudlin while we’re here.”

She returned his tentative smile with one of her own. “Yeah.” She pulled him closer to her, her hands slipping underneath his shirt, enjoying the touch of warm skin and solid muscle as he kissed along her jawline and down her neck. his fingers skillfully began to unbutton her sleeveless chemise, shedding it and then moved on to her dress trousers.

As his kisses returned to caress her lips, she reciprocated with ones of increasing urgency. A chuckle rose deep from Grey’s chest. Carefully he maneuvered them back towards the bed, and he sat down without pausing in his undressing of her. She slipped out of the rest of her clothes.

She stood above him, boldly, hands on his shoulders, pulling off his shirt and ran her hands down his bare chest.

He closed his eyes, hands at his side, waiting for the cue to continue to touch her. She lifted a hand to cup his cheek and Grey’s fleeting smile was as free as it had been the first time they had met, before they realised they were supposed to be enemies. She nodded and he pulled her down on his lap.

It was only here she knew she could push away her worries and stress.

Here, she could allow herself to be embraced.

Here, they could both be vulnerable.

Here, both of them could find sanctuary in their fiercely guarded secret.

He murmured the words to her in between kisses. “Love you, love you.” And she whispered it back to him.

It was enough. For now. Until together they won a better future.

#fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga s2 #greysha #aisha x grey #winxsource #ftws aisha #ftws grey #my fanfic #secret love #hidden relationship #ftws fanfic #fate fanfic

14 notes · View notes

jadelemacfanpage · 10 months

Text

Jade's Tiktok , Spotify , Apple Music

There's People Watching Lyrics:

Call me in the late night, uh Craving just to feel my touch Come a little closer, but I'll warn ya (There's people watching) Meet me on the west side, love You know how to fill my cup Drinking 'til the nights gone, 'til my mind's numb (Numb)

Sneaking out to all the unknown places Just to be, just to be alone with you Know how to keep your secrets safe, yeah Can you be, can you be alone with me?

Hiding doesn't mean going away And going away doesn't mean forever Impossible to leave 'cause you're stuck in my veins Is it worth all the pain just to be together?

Turn away when the camera's on Grab your hand but there's no response Feeling as you pull away, watch my love fade (There's people watching) Acting like we're strangers, shit You're way too grown up for this Hit me when you're ready, I'll be ready (Ah)

Sneaking out to all the unknown places (Unknown places) Just to be, just to be alone with you Know how to keep your secrets safe, yeah (Keep your secrets safe) Can you be, can you be alone with me?

Hiding doesn't mean going away And going away doesn't mean forever Impossible to leave 'cause you're stuck in my veins Is it worth all the pain just to be together?

Oh, there's people watching Oh, there's people watching

I know that you want this, but Can you show me it will be enough?

Hiding doesn't mean going away And going away doesn't mean forever (Doesn't mean forever) Impossible to leave 'cause you're stuck in my veins Is it worth all the pain just to be together? (Just to be together)

Oh, there's people watching Oh, there's people watching

2 notes · View notes

mrs-mikko-rantanen · 2 years

Text

Dive

1,105 words. Ewan and Avanda are dating, but hiding it. Ewan's badly written stutter god I'm sorry. Ewan being a little insecure? Worried? Vulnerable?? Soft times.

Ewan had always been known to have very strong emotions. As a kid, he had been one to cry when he got angry or frustrated; a trait that he fought with even as an adult. He was known to get fired up very easily in Renegade meetings. Adair made it a point to stand to one side of him in case things got heated and he needed to break up a fight. But it wasn't just his anger that he kept close to the surface. His laugh and smile were infectious, often spreading around the family's apartment like a blazing wildfire; and near impossible to stop once it started. He felt every emotion deeply and to it's full extent, so it was no surprise that he fell in love just as hard.

Avanda had come out of nowhere. Like a rock thrown into the peaceful water of a silent lake, she had come into his life suddenly, changing everything.

What had started as a one-sided crush had turned into silent pining. Pining had grown into dropping hints. And dropping hints had resulted in a sudden and desperate kiss after a mission had gone sideways. And that kiss...well the kiss had turned into more kisses. Hidden and stolen in the dark, tucked into the corner. Fingers barely brushing, even when they thought no one was looking. Worried promises whispered into each other's hair before one of them left on a mission. And tearful rendezvous after those missions; clinging to each other like lifelines.

It was one of those reunions that they were in now. Ewan was back. He'd made it home, safe and sound save for a few scrapes and a broken rib. Avanda had shed a few tears, burying her face in his chest. Now she'd calmed down some. Ewan was hunched over slightly, making himself short enough that she could rest her chin on his shoulder as she stood on her toes, clinging to him. One hand traced up and down his spine, the other tangled in the curls at the base of his neck.

A thought bubbled up in Ewan's chest, a cold dread that he'd been working hard to ignore ever since that first kiss. He straightened up slowly, tears choking him.

Avanda pulled back as well, a small smile fading as she looked at the worry in his eyes.

"What is it?"

"Av…" he swallowed hard, eyes sliding away from her's, "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?" Her hand had moved from the back of his neck, resting now on his cheek. With a shaking hand, Ewan gently removed it from the side of his face.

"Wh-what are-are- Av, w-what are we?" He stuttered, hands shaking as he still refused to meet her gaze. "What are we- d-doing? What-what are...we?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're getting at." Her tone was soft and he could tell that she was trying to understand, which only hurt him more. He drew back a little, blinking fast and trying to hide the tears.

"Are-do you-? I--are we-?" He sighed. "Are we...official? Or is this- just a way to blow off steam...for--for you? I know- I know how I feel. About you. About...us. But- is that…?" He sighed again, this time forcing back tears as he continued. "I don't want this to be...just some wartime fling. I can't--I can't survive that. So if you want out; if this isn't something you really want…"

His eyes flicked back to Her now, looking for a reaction. She nodded once, licking her lips a little as it all clicked into place. Ewan's heart pounded in his chest. Were these even answers that he wanted? After trying for so long, he finally was here with her; at least in some capacity. So why was he throwing stones at whatever frail form of perfection they shared?

"Ewan, this….this is complicated." She agreed, twisting her hand out of his grasp. She rested it on his chest and his heart froze as she played with the zipper on his jacket. "I don't know what it is, exactly. But I know it's not like anything I've ever had before. And it's definitely not just 'blowing off steam.'" She smiled up at him. "I know that I care very deeply about you. I know that you make me happy, and that I feel safe around you."

Ewan couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching up in a small smile as she spoke.

"I know that I would do anything to make you feel just as safe. I know how you take your coffee, and I know what kinds of music you like. I know that you smoke when you get too stressed; a habit, I hope you know, should fall to the wayside if you plan to keep me around much longer." Ewan chuckled a little, his own hands finding their way to Avanda's hair as she spoke still. "I may not know what label to use for you when I introduce you to people, or what the future holds for us. But I know that I love you. And for me, right now? That's enough."

Ewan framed her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft and slow, and long. Her hand rested over the back of his his, a thumb tracing the edge of the tattoo on his wrist. Ewan broke the kiss, resting his forehead against her's as the two of them caught their breath.

"I love you too. Maybe more than I should, but--but I do. I know that. I know that I will give my all for you. If you asked it of me, I know I would fly. I live and die by your words. I know that whatever it takes, I will be yours; if that's what you want."

Avanda's hands rested on the back of his neck, tracing the wings tattooed there where they peeked out from the neck of his shirt. He felt her nod, their foreheads still pressed together as she pulled him closer.

"It is. I do want that, I want you." She kissed him now, her lips still tasting of tears, "I want to be yours, and for you to be mine."

"Then I am yours, m'lady." He shifted the grip he held on her hand, pressing a kiss on the back of it as he drowned in the ocean of her eyes. "Tha mi leatsa cho fad 's a bhios tu agam." I am yours for as long as you will have me.

#ewvanda insp #ewan insp #avanda insp #hidden relationship #secret dating #ra insp #renegade archangels insp #everything has changed #tbh i liked sparks fly better but this one isnt too bad i guess

5 notes · View notes

north-noire · 1 month

Text

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

#yeah in this au my michael and william actually have a decent father-son relationship even after the bite. even after all that will's done.#michael just... isn't aware of what his dad did yet for the meantime.#ik william isn't a great father at ALL in canon but let me WRITE my AU the way i want okay?#hidden hands au #fnaf au #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf fanart #michael afton #mike afton #fnaf michael afton #fnaf mike afton #long post #my art

466 notes · View notes

laiamadej · 2 months

Text

Feel the need for speed🥰

#mk1 #railao #raiden mk1 #kung lao #watched f1 last night n lemme tell u #sainz boutta makes ferri rethink their choice like #anyway #doodle racer railao having a not so hidden relationship #they're in a different team

223 notes · View notes

romione-trope-fest · 2 months

Text

The coundown is officially on! Time to get those submissions in! We can't wait to see what you've come up with!

#romionetropefest #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #cockblocker harry #muggle au #ron x hermione #weasley weddings #only one bed #fake NOT dating #hidden relationship #ootp missing moments #soulmates

27 notes · View notes

hellhoundlair · 10 months

Text

will never get over the fact that sams grief after dean died in season 3 turned him into the same revenge obsessed man their dad became after mary died. the fact that thats not subtext or whatever thats just the show.

#sam pre dean dying being like john pre mary dying is also going to make me insane btw #like i know this logically like it isnt a secret thing hidden in spn. its just the show. but im realising it againa nd its like man i cant #believe this shit. the way their relationship is so romantic despite them being brothers. im abt to kill ppl. insane.#they loved each other so much. waaah

499 notes · View notes

italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

I could teach you waking up in my t-shirt.

also on ao3 (preferred format) 2.3k Words

Steve Harrington has a really cool T Shirt.

It was the exact type of shirt no one would expect him to wear, it was soft, and worn, and the design looked hand made, and sometimes there was a long, dark, curly, strand of hair stuck to it, like the person who made it left a piece of themselves there.

Dustin didn’t know where he got it, or how someone like Steve came across a shirt like this, but any time he asked about it, the teen got… Defensive.

Once Dustin asked Steve if he could borrow it, and Steve freaked out, like properly freaked out. So he stopped asking about it. It was a little strange how protective Steve was over the shirt, and how he never seemed to wear it to school, or outside of his house. He had to wear it somewhere though, because more often than not that long, dark, hair would be present, and Dustin knows for a fact Steve washes the shirt.

So where did he get it?

What exactly does “HellFire Club” mean?

Is it a band?

And Dustin asked all these questions only to be met with a nervous silence from Steve, which was unlike him. So, he stopped asking. There were more pressing matters than Steve’s shirt, like demodogs and Russians under the mall, and the fact that the girl Steve works with somehow knows him better than Dustin, all of a sudden.

He’s not jealous, though. Well. Not that jealous. But why does she get to know where the shirt came from, and not him? It’s Steve’s biggest mystery, and it was well kept. At least, well kept from him. He remembers the day clearly. He walked into Scoops Ahoy with Steve who already happened to be in his work uniform. He usually changes at work to avoid walking through the mall looking like a Naval monstrosity. He watches the way Robin Buckley smirks, like she’s let in on a secret, “No Hellfire shirt today, Steve-o? Trouble in paradise?” she asks slyly. “Haha. Shut up, Robin.” Steve replies through his teeth, strained. Dustin whips his head around to face Steve. “You talked to her about the shirt? C’mon, Steve! We’re friends!” Dustin whined. Steve pushed his head away, “You’re like, 5, this is grown up talk. Now get back to your mom, she’s gonna freak if you’re late for camp check in.” Dustin sighed, “Whatever. See you later, Steve!” They hugged briefly and Dustin left, the shirt and what Robin Buckley said about it, still rocking around in his brain.

But then Dustin got back from camp, with a big ass ham radio, a new, very real, girlfriend, and a Russian interception. And suddenly, the t-shirt didn’t seem all that important. In fact, Dustin forgot about it until one fateful day.

The first day of highschool.

There he was in all his glory.

Eddie Munson, and guess what he was wearing.

The shirt.

Steve’s shirt.

So Dustin made it a point to seek the guy out, and in his mission he found that HellFire was not a band, but a DnD club. And that only made him more confused, did Steve secretly belong to a party? And that’s why he never played with them? No way. The betrayal.

So, Dustin infiltrates the group.

Along with Mike, and Lucas.

Because it’s a DnD group, and well… Will’s gone, and they still wanted to play.

And they become a part of the group.

It’s fun, and the way Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees all of them wearing his shirt is absolutely hilarious.

Dustin keeps the whole “shirt debacle” to himself. He knows that Steve was in HellFire and didn’t tell any of them. He decided to let him keep his dignity, and put the whole mystery behind him. The only strange thing was, that whenever he brought up Steve during their sessions, the rest of Hellfire got… Weird. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant would smile slyly in Eddie’s direction and Eddie would blush. Did they have some type of falling out? Eddie never seemed to want to talk about Steve, and Steve never seemed to want to talk about Eddie OR HellFire. Why were they pretending not to know each other? It was weird.

Steve would pick them up from sessions, he and Eddie would share a short wave back and forth, and that was the end of it. It was still weird that Eddie’s hair seemed to get tangled in Steve’s shirt, even though Steve didn’t go to the meetings anymore. In fact, now that Dustin joined, Steve didn’t seem to wear the shirt at all anymore.

So another mystery was upon him.

But then a cheerleader died, and no one could find Eddie.

And all of a sudden his face was plastered on the news, his name becoming synonymous with ‘Satan’ and ‘murderer’ which Dustin thought was ridiculous. Eddie Munson was not a violent person, not by any means, in real life. As a dungeon master he could be pretty merciless, but. That was just a game.

And the newest mystery revolving around Steve and Eddie was put on the back burner.

They found Eddie a few hours later in Reefer Rick’s boathouse, a suggestion made by Steve, the stress too high to consider how he could even know that. But then there was a bottle pressed to his jugular and sorry Eddie, but he needs Steve alive for this. So he pleads until Eddie drops the bottle, Steve’s eyes reading more concern than fear, but Dustin would think about that later. He watches Eddie as Eddie watches Steve be comforted by Robin, wiping the stray tears away, looking back at Eddie with a look that Dustin thought Steve could only give to girls…

Unfortunately, as entertaining as it was, Steve’s love life was not the hot topic of the moment. So he moved on, and the events unfolded in succession of disaster, like they usually do when the upside down rears its ugly head. And all of a sudden Steve is telling them not to be cute, and Eddie says ‘Make him Pay,’ in a tone that anyone could hear, means something different.

—

Nancy delivered the final blow, and Vecna was down. But there was a pit in Steve’s stomach. Something was very, very wrong. So he ran. Nancy and Robin were hot on his heels, shouting for him to slow down but he couldn’t. The scene came into view and Steve couldn’t breathe. Dustin was sobbing over Eddie’s prone body, bats from hell surrounding them.

Steve could only run faster, he reached them, dropping to his knees.

“Eds,”

“Stevie,”

“Don’t do that Munson. We’re getting you out of here. I swear to god. If you die, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

And through his grief clouded brain, Dustin knew Steve meant what he said.

From that moment on it was a blur, Nancy and Robin helped Dustin limp towards the gate, only looking back to see Steve lifting Eddie from the ground in what looked like sheer will. They’re going to make it out. He can feel it. He’s got to figure out the mystery. And maybe that was a stupid thought, but he was only 15, and that was what gave him hope.

The gate that split in the Munson trailer was beginning to close, and it was a fight to get through, Dustin didn’t get to see the end though, because when his broken leg was met with the force of hitting the right side up, he passed out.

—

He woke to a steady beep and a pressure holding his leg in place.

He cracked open his eyes to see his mom sitting in the plastic hospital chair next to his bed, reading a book.

“Mom?”

“Dusty,” She gasped, pressing the Call button, and reaching to grab his hand.

“E- Eddie?”

“I- I’m sorry baby.” And for a second, Dustin’s heart dropped, “He’s still in surgery. That earthquake really did a number on him. The doctors think he’s going to pull through.” Dustin breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, and Steve was admitted for his wounds. He’s in the next room over. They’re going to put Eddie with him as soon as he’s in the clear, Steve’s request.” With the news that his friends were okay, and the soothing motion of his mom brushing her hand through his hair, he fell asleep. The next time he woke up it was by a doctor, getting him ready to be discharged with strict orders of rest.

He ended up moving from his room, to making a home in Steve’s room.

It was weird to see Steve in the hospital, unmoving, hair flat against his forehead. It almost brought tears to his eyes to think about his brother like that, the only thing keeping him together was that Steve was here, awake, and the heart monitor’s beeps were steady and reassuring.

—-

It had been a few days, Steve’s wounds were healing nicely, and he was allowed to go home.

Eddie had been cleared from the ICU and moved to a long stay ward.

He was still asleep, but the doctors said that was his body’s way of healing. That’s what they said about Max too. They were confident both of them would eventually wake up.

Dustin had expected to see Steve around the hospital after his discharge, checking Max, and keeping up with his own check ups. What he didn’t expect to see was him and Eddie’s uncle Wayne in what looked like a heartfelt embrace. He didn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but he also didn’t move away. “He’s gonna wake up, son. I know he’s strong. And I know you’ll be right there waitin’ for him.” Wayne's gruff voice floated through the quiet hospital. Dustin didn’t realize Steve knew Wayne like that but, he guesses it’s from Steve’s secret HellFire days.

He shook off the initial confusion and went to join the two men in Eddie’s room. They would sit and talk. Talk about Eddie, Steve’s interactions with weird customers, how Wayne was settling in to the new government provided house. Anything. Just to fill the room with sound, to let Eddie know they were there when he was ready to wake up.

Dustin knew it was going to be an emotional day when Eddie woke up for real.

He’d been opening his eyes, and saying one word responses for about a week now, and the doctors predicted he’d be starting to wake up for longer periods of time real soon.

“S-tv?”

“Eddie! You’re awake, do you feel okay, can I get you any-”

“Slow down, boy.” Wayne said, resting a hand on his shoulder, Dustin pausing as he does. “Any pain, Ed?”

“No,”

“Good. They got you on the good stuff.” Wayne chuckled.

“Steve?” Eddie mumbled, and Dustin was confused for a moment, but he thought that Eddie was probably concerned about the guy that carried him out of hell. Dustin watched as Wayne smiled, “Your boys gone to get some coffee and chips for the kid and I. He’ll be back real soon.” His boy? Interesting…

Dustin was close to figuring out the mystery, there was just one thing he was missing. He knew these things took time, but this was taking forever, when was he going to figure this out? And right as he finished that thought, Steve walked in. He handed Wayne his coffee and tossed Dustin his chips, floating around the room on autopilot. Wayne and Eddie both watched with familiar fondness, as though they had seen this before. Steve finally let his eyes drift over to Eddie, who was wide awake now, smiling in his direction. “Eddie.” He breathed, eyes wide.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Oh, you bastard! I told you not to be cute! I told you,” Steve’s voice cracked,

“C’mere.”

Steve slumped over to Eddie, basically crawling into the bed with him, and cried against his chest. Dustin felt as though the solution to the mystery was about to be revealed, were they related? No way. Best friends? Secret Best friends? Perhaps…

“I told you,”

“I know you did, baby.”

Wait. Baby?

And y’know, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at what happened next.

“I hate you,”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right,” Steve sighed, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, savoring the sweet reunion. That is until Dustin breathed in sharply, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb them, but instead choked on a piece of potato chip. He coughed and hacked, and Wayne clapped him on the back and handed him some water, and there was snot and tears running down his face. “Sorry,” He said hoarsely, still partially choking. “I didn't mean to ruin the moment I just-” Steve cut him off with a smile, “You finally put two and two together, huh? Guess I owe you five bucks, Eds.” Dustin watched them carefully. “What?” He asked, only slightly embarrassed at the implication that the two had bet on him.

“Me and Stevie bet that it’d take us kissing in front of you for you to figure out we’re together. He thought you’d figure it out before that.” Eddie said, smiling through his words.

“I thought you were smarter than that, Dust. You really let me down,” Steve teased.

Eddie sighed, “When you saw me in the shirt I thought I had lost for sure, but you never really said anything about it.”

“I thought that Steve might’ve been secretly a part of HellFire…” He trailed, looking down sheepishly.

Wayne barked out a laugh, “It’s okay, kid. I was bettin’ that you’d figure it out at their weddin.’”

And Dustin gasped at that. “Mr. Uncle Wayne, I'm hurt,” He said dramatically, a hand clutching at his chest. Wayne sighed, “Boy, you are just about as bad as Eddie.”

And both Steve and Wayne shared a good, long laugh when Eddie and Dustin let out simultaneous “Hey!”s. Dustin shook his head, but let a smile rest on his face. This was a better outcome than he could’ve hoped for.

And if he’d heard Steve and Eddie’s “I love you’s” whispered back and forth as they all settled in for sleep, well.

He’d just keep that to himself.

662 notes · View notes