#it's not hidden though. or secret. it's there. in the game. in plain sight. it happens in plain sight

[corviiids]

some things aren't SECRET HIDDEN DETAILS you just didn't notice them

[kiwriteswords]

A drabble about hickeysss!!

This slope is treacherous; I like it [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Drabble]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 500

TW: Sexual themes, hickeys, secret relationship, established relationship, BAU reader, Hotch's POV, possessive Hotch, marking, nsfw, mdni

Aaron Hotchner woke up that morning with the dawn barely breaking through his bedroom blinds. The previous night was still lingering warmly in his thoughts. The silence of the early hour starkly contrasted with the laughter and passion that had filled the room mere hours ago. 

As he lay there, the memories of last night's escapade with you played vividly in his mind. A rare smile curled his lips.

Dragging himself out of bed, Hotch headed towards the bathroom, beginning the daily routine that marked the start of another long day at the BAU. He was a man of habit. Even a night as exceptional as the last could not alter his precise morning schedule. 

As he shaved, his eyes caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You were blissfully stretching on the bed, the white sheets just barely covering you. The sight made him pause. His razor hovering momentarily in the air.

As you sauntered into the bathroom, Hotch's gaze inadvertently fell on your neck, and his heart skipped a beat. There, clear as day, was a vivid reminder of last night--a hickey. Stark against your skin. It was an unusual slip of his usually controlled demeanor, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"You're not planning on covering that up?" Hotch asked, his voice a mix of concern and surprise as he gestured toward your neck.

Reaching to touch your neck with a mischievous smile, you shook your head. Your eyes were daring and sparkling. "I want the world to know I'm taken," you declared, even though you couldn't share by whom. "Even if they can't know who it is."

Hotch felt a twinge of panic at the thought of anyone at the office noticing. It was unprofessional. It was risky, and yet, seeing that look in your eyes? That bold challenge? It stirred something deep within him. 

It was more of a turn-on than he had ever realized, igniting a flame of desire and possessiveness that he hadn’t anticipated. He was never a possessive man, but something in the way of you being marked his suddenly turned him on to no end.

He took a step closer, his professional demeanor faltering momentarily as he brushed a finger gently over the mark, his touch sending a shiver through you. 

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his voice low and intense.

"And you love it," you countered, stepping into his embrace with confidence that matched his own. The air between you was charged, and the thrill of the secret you both shared added a layer of excitement to the already electric atmosphere.

As Hotch got ready, his mind was torn between his role as the BAU unit chief and the man who had left that mark on your neck. The drive to work was quiet; each lost in your thoughts about the implications of what you’d decided to flaunt so openly. He was already predicting who would point out the mark that colored your neck so brightly first. 

Walking into the office, Hotch was all business again, but the occasional glances he threw your way were full of unspoken words. 

And throughout the day, whenever his eyes met yours, he felt that same thrill. A dangerous, exhilarating pulse of energy that he never wanted to end.

It was reckless, it was thrilling, and it was yours. A secret danced around in stolen looks and knowing smiles, hidden in plain sight for only them to understand.

[takeyrregrets]

Sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs?​ 𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗑 𝖮𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 soft fic to start this blog :)

You don’t notice the way he looks at you.

Well not exactly.

You notice a lot of things about him! Like how he always texts you good morning before you’re even awake, or how he instinctively offers you the window seat every time you take the bus together. You notice how he always shares the last bite of his favorite snacks with you, even though you’re well aware he’s been looking forward to that last bite all day. You notice the way he lights up when you laugh, how he never seems to mind when you steal his hoodie, and how he always smells like sunscreen and wildflowers and something vaguely sweet.

You notice all those things. You just… don’t think too hard about them.

He does, though. He thinks about everything.

He thinks about how your fingers brush his when you pass him your drink. How you laugh when you’re tired, soft and breathy and real. How you always talk to animals like they can understand you. How you once said, offhandedly, that no one had ever brought you flowers.

So he starts doing that. Little bouquets. Tiny, messy things that look like they were picked from a field. Because they were. You never ask, just smile when you find them. Sometimes in your locker. Sometimes on your windowsill. One time tucked in the pages of your notebook like a secret.

He never says they’re from him. You never ask. He wonders if you even suspect. Part of him hopes you do.

The rest of him hopes you never find out.

Because the truth is, he’s in love with you.

Completely. Pathetically really, in love with you

The kind of love that makes his heart skip when your name pops up on his screen. The kind that turns his stomach upside down when you smile at someone else. The kind that makes every second you're not looking at him feel like he's slowly drowning—but he still won’t say a word.

Because you’re happy, so so happy, and he would rather spend eternity alone in a dark room than ever risk changing that.

It’s a rainy Friday night when you crash at his place, feet tucked into a blanket as you lean your back on his side, one of his hoodies slouched around your shoulders. You’re too busy playing video games and complaining about the mechanics to notice how he tries to not turn into a puddle, not listening to anything you're saying.

He feels bad really! But how could he ever pay attention when when you're sitting this close. Not when you keep shifting, brushing against his side like it doesn’t mean anything.

(It means everything.)

You lightly tap him on the head with the controller.

"You're zoning out again," you say, grinning. "What? Is listening to me complain really that boring!."

He scrunches his nose, a small laugh on his lips as he ruffles your hair ever so gently

"Just thinking."

"About?" "How boring this game is" "Hey!"

You lean back, tossing your head against the couch cushion as you laugh. It makes him weak. The casual comfort. Like you belong here, with him. You and him sit in comfortable silence for awhile, the only sound in the room coming from the game, until you speak up that is, your voice on the cusp of a whisper

"You ever think about soulmates?" you ask, eyes on the ceiling.

His breath catches.

"All the time," he says, way too quickly.

You smile at that.

"I wonder where mine is," you say, not even looking at him. "If I've already met them or if they’re still out there somewhere, waiting. Do you think we just… pass by people like that without knowing?"

He doesn’t speak for a second. You don’t notice how tense he gets. How still.

Then, softly—so softly you almost miss it—he says:

“I think sometimes, they’re hidden in plain sight.”

Your head tilts toward him. Brows raised, curious. You laugh.

"Wow. That was almost poetic."

He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like his heart isn’t screaming.

"You bring it out of me," he says, trying to play it off, but it’s the most honest things he has ever admitted to you about his feelings

You throw a slight jab towards his side.

"Cheese ball."

And just like that, you’re grinning again, leaning back into his side, warmth radiating from you like you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

And him? He just smiles. Pretends he’s not an unraveling mess.

Later that night, after you fall asleep on the couch with your head on his shoulder, he doesn’t move. Not for hours. Just sits there, memorizing the weight of you against him, the rise and fall of your breathing. Burning it into his memory, like a prayer.

[coriihanniee]

Guess WHO! - boynextdoor smau

𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : When multiple leaked photos ignite a wildfire of speculation, the world is certain—BOYNEXTDOOR'S Y/N is secretly dating one of the members. But who? No one knows, and you refuse to clear the air. Instead, you turn the chaos into a game, scattering cryptic clues and half-truths while every member plays along, deepening the mystery. Every glance, every post, every moment is a riddle waiting to be solved. Is the answer hidden in plain sight, or are you leading everyone in circles? How far can a secret stretch before it unravels? And when it does—will anyone be ready for the truth?

CHAPTER 29 : thanks, Sungho

The bed felt too big, the sheets too cold, no matter how you twisted and turned. You lay wide-eyed, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to find any comfort in the quiet of the night. The reassuring words from earlier, the gentle teasing, the promise of not being alone—they should’ve helped. But instead, the silence seemed to echo in your mind, each thought louder than the last.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. It was well past midnight. The others had already gone to bed, but here you were, restless, your mind spinning with doubts.

Maybe I just need a glass of water...

The dorm was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet. It had been a few weeks since the tour ended, and the exhaustion still clung to your bones, but sleep refused to come.

You sighed, pulling your hoodie over your head as you made your way to the kitchen. A glass of water, maybe some air—yes, that should help.

But as you turned the corner, you weren’t alone.

Sungho was already there, sitting on the couch with one leg propped up on the coffee table, lazily scrolling through his phone. His hair was tousled, and he looked just as restless as you felt.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked without looking up.

You hesitated for a second before stepping into the dim light of the room. “…Yeah. You?”

“Same.” He put his phone down, stretching his arms above his head. “Tour aftermath, I guess.”

Your gaze drifted down to his foot—no longer wrapped, but you still remembered the way he winced when he walked, the way guilt clawed at you when you saw him struggling at the airport.

“…Does your ankle still hurt?” you asked quietly.

Sungho blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. He flexed his foot experimentally. “Nah, it’s fine now. Barely even notice it.”

You swallowed, looking down. “It was my fault, though.”

At that, he scoffed. “YN.”

“I’m serious,” you muttered. “If I hadn’t—”

“—If you hadn’t gotten mobbed at the airport? Yeah, totally your fault,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Come on, you know that’s not on you.”

You pressed your lips together, arms crossing over your chest. “You got hurt because of me.”

“I got hurt because some fans don’t know how to act right,” he corrected. “And because I wasn’t watching my step, apparently.”

You let out a quiet breath, but the guilt didn’t quite leave you. Sungho must’ve noticed, because he sighed and patted the empty spot beside him. “Sit down before you make me feel bad for making you feel bad.”

You rolled your eyes but sat anyway, tucking your knees to your chest. The conversation naturally drifted to other things, the familiar banter easing some of the weight on your chest.

You sigh, tilting your phone toward him. "The fans. They’re still obsessed with figuring it out."

Sungho chuckles softly. "Can you blame them? You’re making it too easy."

"Me?" You raise an eyebrow. "You’re all playing along just fine."

"Well," he says, leaning back casually,

"I’m good at keeping secrets. Especially yours."

The way he says it—calm and teasing—makes your chest tighten. He always knows what to say without giving too much away. It’s both comforting and frustrating.

"You ever wonder what they’d say if they knew your secrets?" you tease, nudging his arm lightly.

Sungho tilts his head, considering your words. "Maybe. But I’m not the one everyone’s watching."His tone is soft, but there’s a knowing edge beneath it. "How are you holding up, really?"

You hesitate. For weeks, you've brushed off the pressure, played into the mystery like it didn’t touch you. But with him, it’s harder to pretend.

"It’s… a lot sometimes,"you admit quietly. "The rumors, the guessing—it feels like they’re pulling me apart, trying to figure out which pieces are real."

His gaze lingers on your face, steady and thoughtful. "It’s okay to be scared," he says after a beat. "You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you."

His words settle something in your chest—a warmth cutting through the weight you've been carrying.

"You make it sound easy," you murmur, half-smiling.

"It’s not,"he concedes. "But you’re not doing this alone. You’ve got all of us... and you’ve got me."

A silence falls between you—not uncomfortable, just heavy with thoughts unspoken. After a while, you sigh again, fingers tightening around your phone.

"It’s kind of messed up, isn’t it?" you say softly. "How people act like we’re not even human the moment we step into this industry."

Sungho doesn’t answer right away. He leans back, eyes flicking toward the ceiling as if searching for the right words.

"They forget," he says eventually. "Or maybe they don’t want to remember. It’s easier to treat us like characters instead of people."

"And if you step out of line?" You huff out a humorless laugh. "Game over. It doesn’t matter how hard you worked to get here—one rumor, one picture, and suddenly you’re public enemy number one."

His jaw tightens for a second before he exhales quietly. "Yeah. And dating?" He shakes his head, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "It’s like committing a crime. Doesn’t matter if you’re happy—if they don’t approve, they’ll tear you apart for it."

You swallow the knot forming in your throat. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "What’s the point of being happy if you can’t even share it?"

His expression softens at your words. "It is worth it," he says quietly. "Or at least, I want to believe it is."

"Even if it means constantly looking over your shoulder?"

"Even then," he says firmly. "Because at the end of the day, your happiness is yours—it’s not theirs to control."

You glance at him, surprised by the certainty in his voice. Sungho’s always been the steady one, but hearing him say it like that—like he’s thought about it too—makes something ache in your chest.

"You ever think it’s unfair?"you ask after a moment. "That we can’t just… live like everyone else? Fall in love, be happy, without the world breathing down our necks?"

"Of course,"he answers without hesitation. "But it’s the reality, isn’t it? They love us when we give them what they want—but the moment we try to take something for ourselves, they act like we owe them everything."

The bitterness in his voice surprises you. Sungho’s always been calm, composed—but you realize now that he feels the pressure too. Maybe he’s just better at hiding it.

"You ever get scared?"The words slip out before you can stop them.

He looks at you for a long moment, his gaze softer now. "All the time," he admits. "I think we all do. But… I’d rather be scared and hold on to the things that matter than lose them trying to please everyone else."

His words settle into the quiet, heavier than anything else you’ve heard tonight.

A beat of silence passes before his voice softens again. "You ever think about what’s next?"

"Next?"

"Yeah." He shrugs slightly, eyes fixed on some distant point. "Beyond all this. What you want when things slow down."

You tilt your head, curiosity stirring. "Do you?"

He hums softly, thoughtful. "I want to create things that last—whether it’s music, stories… something that matters." His voice softens, almost like he’s thinking aloud. "Maybe I’ll travel. See things I haven’t had time for."

His words paint a picture—one filled with quiet dreams he rarely shares.

"And where do I fit into that plan?" you ask, lifting a brow playfully.

His laugh is low, warm. "You’re already too much to handle. But I guess I could make room for you."

There’s a pause, and then his voice is quieter, more sincere. "You know, BOYNEXTDOOR… you guys, you’re like my second home. It’s been like that ever since we started. You’ve all been my anchor through all of it."

The sincerity in his voice makes you smile, something twisting in your chest.

When you don’t answer, Sungho shifts to stand. Before he leaves, you catch his wrist, fingers curling lightly around it.

"Thanks, Sungho," you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

His grip on your hand is gentle but firm—a silent promise. "Anytime."

As the door to his room clicks shut behind him, you lean back into the couch, your mind spinning with thoughts you can’t quite settle.

The fans will keep guessing. The members will keep teasing. But beneath all of it, there’s a truth you've kept close—a truth you wonder if you're finally ready to share.

And for the first time, you aren't sure if keeping it hidden is worth the weight of holding it alone.

previous masterlist next

@coriihanniee 💌

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[traveler-at-heart]

Love Language

Summary: Natasha and you share a secret language. Just a short drabble!

Russian, English, Chinese, French, German are some of the languages listed on Natasha’s file.

But there was another one, hidden in plain sight, that apparently only you could understand.

It was the little things, the silences, the requests that weren’t verbalized. Only statements about her day, or apparent offerings that hid a need of her own.

Like certain mornings, when you greeted her in the kitchen and asked if she had breakfast yet.

“I’m not hungry”

“That won’t do” you’d answer like clockwork, reciting all the things you could do that you knew she liked. Omelette, sandwich, pancakes.

“Pancakes are fine” she’d shrug her shoulders, but would leave the plate clean. Then, she’d approach you as you did the dishes and muttered a quiet thank you.

An invitation to play games (anything, from chess to cards or Mario Kart) would be followed by a suggestion that since she’d won, the least Natasha could do was take you to dinner.

So you spent the night in one of the restaurants you both liked. Picking a place was easy; you listed the places and Natasha would interrupt you when you got to the one she wanted.

“That one was nice last time”

There are times when you’d sit in the dinning table, while she reads the paper. The entertainment section is conveniently on your side, and you grab it to read the titles of the movies showing in the old cinema downtown.

“Haven’t seen that one yet” she’d comment after you get to the right one.

Movie nights were your thing, and you always paid for the tickets and anything she wanted from the candy store.

“The movie was good” she’d say. “I’ll pick next time”

As if it hadn’t been her choice in the first place.

“Sure, Nat” you always answered, amused.

Back from missions, she always sat next to you on the Quinjet, asking if you could check for injuries she might have missed.

“Now you” she’d say. It was her way of checking that you were ok, without having to seem too concerned. You smiled as she grumbled, displeased when she saw a little bruise or open skin, her hands lingering as she cleaned the wounds.

To anyone else, it may seem frustrating. To you, it was beautiful to experience Natasha’s love language. Asking for help, seeking your company, were signs that she could and wanted to be vulnerable. To you, it was a privilege.

You could have done it forever, in all honesty.

Until one night, when a mission went sideways. Everyone was shooting, blowing up walls and trying to stay alive.

You ran from one room to the next, looking for Pietro as his comms weren’t working.

“Hey, wrap this up, kiddo” you screamed, shooting at the people trying to shoot him.

“Almost done” he grunted. He was slower, and you figured it might have something to do with the wound on his abdomen.

“Come on” you said, taking out the last guard that was behind his back.

No one was watching your back, though. You felt the pain in your chest and leg, falling in the middle of rubble and bodies.

Your eyes remained unfocused, barely listening to the commotion around you. Green eyes, filled with tears brought you back to reality.

“Stay with me” Natasha asked.

For the first time, she asked.

You’d feel overjoyed if it weren’t for the two bullet holes in your body.

She didn’t hide how terrified she was, of the blood flowing and the life leaving your eyes.

“Please don’t leave me” she asked again, and you nodded.

You kept your promise until the Quinjet landed, and everything went dark.

—

“I’m being such a pain in the ass” you say every time you ask for something.

Recovery’s been slow, but you won’t complain because Natasha’s by your side all the time.

“Ask for anything you need”

“How about a kiss?”

And then, she’ll roll her eyes, but lean forward, happy to feel your lips against hers.

Neither needs to ask, nor tell, but you know you love Natasha, and she loves you.

It’s in everything you do for each other.

[embersofnovember]

I LOVE YOU,

DON'T ACT SO SURPRISED.

remy lebeau x gn!reader

summary: you’ve only been a member of the xmen for a little over two months, yet remy’s already made it feel like a week.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, remy’s a bully, justice for kurt!!, a lotttt of kissing, affectionate themes in general, no angst (for once?), a horrendous attempt at remy’s accent, idk what else

wc: 1312

notes: ignore how i died for a month or two but anyways i watched manchester by the sea the other day and i’m still wrecked

living in the x mansion is something you never imagined for yourself in the future, but never find yourself regretting. hidden away in the greenery, tucked away nicely, mutants roaming freely without the worry of being seen differently on their conscience. almost hidden in plain sight.

in a sense, it’s a better home than anyone else has ever had.

you’ve been living there for almost two months. it was hard to get used to at first, especially since you thought you were the only one—but, seeing everyone so calm, so happy and carefree certainly did make your heart soak itself in warmth. everyone greeted each other with open arms.

mutants are normal. not everyone could read minds, or teleport, or move things with their mind, but some could, and you feel as though you’ve finally found a place that wants you. a place that didn’t think you were nothing but scrap parts.

there’s basketball matches on the court every other day. you and storm bake together. scott keeps a secret stash of liquor in his room, away from the kids and out of reach from logan, who will tear the place down in search for it if he ever found out there was any in the four walls you all call home. occasional movie nights, and you all took turns cooking dinner.

and some nights, when remy would come home from a mission, and would be a little too tired to walk to his room which was a little too far, you find him in your bed, with his head in your lap and your fingers tangled in his hair.

remy doesn’t have much shame.

it’s sweet little gestures the two of you indulge each other in. a slow process that happens more and more frequently as the days pass. things like fixing each other’s hair, catching each other’s stares from across a crowded room. he lets you win in every card game (kurt hates it—favouritism!). you let him sleep in your bed with the innocent price of either of you soothing the other. you take turns. whoever needs it more, or sometimes you just let each other tangle your legs and arms, and simply whisper to each other like you’re exchanging secrets.

you could get used to this. it’s a nice life, a life with a stark difference to the one you harboured mere months ago. sure, there were times, and you had your moments, but you were getting better.

you could get used to this. a life of domesticity that you couldn’t imagine before. october settles, similar to the cold in your skin, but you aren't thinking about that.

“oh, no,” remy tuts, shaking his head with a disapproving click of his tongue. he points metal tongs at kurt’s confused figure, and clicks them together twice. to this, kurt’s eyes widen. he isn’t even two steps into the kitchen.

“banned from de kitchen, oui? away, mon ami.”

you, however, had already gotten used to this.

“i didn’t even do anything!” kurt shouts defensively, german accent thick with frustration. remy near cuts him off with a groan, incessantly and impatiently clicking away with the tongs in kurt’s direction as he walks past.

“me an’ de lovely lady are busy,” he says. his eyes pivot over to you, sitting on the counter with your legs dangling over the edge, busying yourself with stirring the sauce in the pot remy had forgotten about.

“all i would like is a drink,” kurt remarks, more under his breath than to both you or remy. his tail sags behind him as he walks, bush of hair covering the better part of his eyes as he walks past you, giving a quiet nod and that small smile.

already used to the antics between the two best friends, you learnt it was better than to interfere a long time ago.

before kurt extends out a hand to open the fridge, remy’s already shoving him into a headlock and affectionately scratching kurt’s scalp. as dramatic as kurt is, and as if this isn’t a common occurrence for him, he still yelps. he sounds distressed every time it happens, and each time you can’t help but laugh.

remy, of course, is all grins and dimples. when he lets go of the poor guy, he doesn’t stop. “thought you knew better than to come into de kitchen when i’m cooking, mm?”

“no,” kurt muttered in exasperation. a sour look adorns his features as he turns his back and opens the fridge (without interruption, this time), though you can’t hold the conscious thought that maybe kurt really had thought he’d been safe for a second. his accent gets thicker when he’s flustered. “nein, too many people live here for you to be hogging the kitchen!”

the look that remy sent kurt had a giggle bubbling from the back of your throat. then, his attention is on you. remy’s eyes snap from kurt’s to yours, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“you find dis funny, chére?”

uh oh.

your smile, mere a twitch of the corners of your mouth, disappears completely. expecting the similar fate kurt had been given, you scramble for an excuse.

“no, why would i? that’s—“

kurt slips away with a canned beverage before the other can notice. remy advances towards you with his signature pair of tongs, clicking them together with a taunt and a raised eyebrow. there’s the click shut of the fridge, the sizzle of frying fat and remy’s dreamy, dopey grin.

your fate is already sealed. letting out a sigh in resignational defeat, you think just maybe kurt had been spared.

“—that’s stupid.”

“is it now?”

“mm,” your hum, coupled with a few encouraging nods and a smile you slowly can no longer hide, remy’s in front of you before you can blink. a tender hand is brushing a stray hair out of your eyes.

the truth is, remy has never been so badly whipped for anyone in his entire life. he loves you with all of his heart. in the way that his nose accidentally brushes against yours, in the way you enjoyed playing with his hair, in the way he kisses the different expanses of your face repeatedly until he breaks a grin out of you.

like right now.

“rem, you’re cooking,” you remind him, attempting to hold a sense of firmness in your tone as he places a series of kisses along the tip of your nose to the bridge. you were xmen: you were supposed to be responsible.

remy is anything if not responsible.

“i ain’t gon’ burn the house down,” he chides between a kiss on your cheek, tone gravelly and thick with his cajun accent. “you ever known gambit to burn his precious meals?”

“well, what about the other day when—“

he cuts you off with a kiss on your lips. it’s a brusque action, but it’s one you’ve adapted to, one that no longer surprises you, and one you reciprocate with minimal ease. you laugh once, and he pulls away. then, he goes in again and you playfully slap his chest.

“remy!”

he lets out a groan of faux annoyance, landing one final peck on your forehead before he reluctantly steps away to go back to his place at the stove, where he’s fiddling with his beignets with a now concentrated brow.

he is always there. an enigma in the pearls of his teeth, a rose in a bush of thorns.

“‘m just saying, chére,” he starts, eyes narrowing with concentration. then a groan when he flips the pastry to find they’re more golden and caramelised than he would like to admit.

“that i’m right?” you tilt your head, hands balanced on the edge of the counter as your legs swinging mindlessly. to say you felt a little smug is more true than otherwise.

if you were anyone else, remy would’ve turned around and glared at you. instead, he just laughs.

“touché, chérie.”

masterlist!!

[vivsinkpot]

Romantic Prompts: Prince(ss) vs. Prisoner

Some loves are born in sunlight — others in locked rooms, in whispered defiance, in glances that risk everything.

This is for the royal who was never truly free, and the prisoner who refused to kneel.

For the kind of love that sharpens like a blade, hidden in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to strike. Pronouns are interchangeable.

1. “The prince is forced to visit the dungeons for political reasons but becomes strangely fascinated with the defiant prisoner who refuses to bow.”

The prince descended into the dungeon, his footsteps echoing through the cold stone. He was prepared for the usual scene — broken men, eyes cast low, waiting for mercy. But when he reached the cell, his gaze fell on her: a woman standing tall, unyielding, her eyes fixed on him with a quiet, burning defiance. She didn’t bow. She didn’t flinch. “Your Highness,” she said, voice steady, “Do you come to remind me of my place, or is this just another political game?” The challenge in her tone caught him off guard, and for a moment, he said nothing. Her unwavering gaze lingered, a thread pulling at something deep within him.

2. “The prisoner knows a dangerous secret about the royal family — and the princess must decide whether to silence them, or protect them.”

The princess stood in the dimly lit chamber, her hands clenched at her sides as the prisoner’s words hung in the air, heavy with danger. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “The secret you protect — it will bring your kingdom to its knees. I know the truth about your father, about your family’s legacy.” She felt the blood drain from her face. The weight of his revelation threatened to crush her, but his eyes remained fixed on hers, daring her to act. To silence him would mean burying a truth that could destroy everything she knew, yet to protect him would risk everything she’d been raised to defend. A choice loomed before her, one that could shatter her world, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to make it.

3. “When the princess is attacked during a coup attempt, the only person who saves her is the very prisoner she is supposed to despise.”

The princess barely had time to react as the blade flashed toward her, the air thick with the scent of smoke and chaos. The coup was swift, unexpected, and she had been caught off guard. Her guards lay motionless, the hall filled with shouting and the clatter of steel. But before the assassin’s strike could land, a figure appeared from the shadows, moving with an urgency she had never expected. The prisoner. She blinked in disbelief as he knocked the attacker aside, his chains still rattling as he fought with a ferocity that seemed born of something deeper than mere survival. “Stay behind me,” he commanded, voice rough, but clear. For a moment, she was frozen, her mind struggling to reconcile the man who was supposed to be her enemy, now standing between her and death. He didn’t hesitate, and neither did she, though her heart pounded in her chest — a mix of gratitude, confusion, and a growing realization that everything she thought she knew might be a lie.

4. “The prince sneaks down to the dungeons night after night under the guise of interrogations, but finds himself listening to the prisoner’s stories instead.”

Each night, the prince descended into the dungeons, his footsteps soft on the stone, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the walls. He told himself it was for the sake of duty — interrogations that were necessary, that would protect his kingdom. But every time he reached the prisoner’s cell, the questions he had prepared seemed to slip away. Instead, he found himself drawn into the prisoner’s stories: tales of distant lands, of forgotten legends, of a life outside these cold, confining walls. The prisoner spoke with a quiet intensity, eyes gleaming with memories and regrets, and the prince couldn’t help but listen. With each passing night, the walls between them grew thinner, until it was no longer about the interrogation, but the strange connection that pulled him back again and again.

5. “The prisoner was once a noble accused of treason, and the princess begins to doubt everything she has been taught about loyalty.”

The princess stood before the prisoner, the weight of her family’s teachings pressing down on her. He was once a noble — a man of high birth, accused of treason and thrown into these chains. Her father had called him a traitor, a villain who sought to destroy everything they held dear, and she had believed it. But as she listened to his quiet explanations, the calm in his eyes, doubts began to stir within her. His story didn’t fit with the one she had been told all her life. He spoke of loyalty, honor, and love for his kingdom — not betrayal. The princess felt the foundation of her beliefs tremble as the lines between truth and lies blurred before her, and she wondered how many other things she had been taught were nothing more than carefully crafted myths.

6. “An arranged political marriage looms over the princess, but the only one she dreams about is the prisoner with fire in his eyes.”

The princess paced the ornate corridors of the palace, her thoughts heavy with the looming marriage that would bind her to a man she barely knew, a man chosen for political gain rather than love. It was the price of duty, of securing alliances, but as the days grew closer, her heart felt colder. In the quiet of the night, her thoughts always drifted back to the prisoner — his eyes, burning with defiance, with something more than survival. He had been a shadow in her world until now, a name whispered with disdain, yet in the secrecy of her chambers, she could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her. The fire in his eyes was something she couldn’t ignore, a fire that burned brighter than the cold promises of the marriage awaiting her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a future where she could choose him instead.

7. “A magical bond accidentally forms between the princess and the prisoner during a moment of shared danger — linking their fates irreversibly.”

The princess felt the ground tremble beneath her as the explosion tore through the air, sending debris flying in every direction. She barely had time to react before a pair of strong hands seized her, pulling her into the shadows just as a wall of flames surged toward them. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The heat of the fire burned at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the shock that coursed through her when she locked eyes with the prisoner. His breath was ragged, his expression wild, but then something strange happened. A pulse of energy crackled between them, as if the very air had thickened with magic. She gasped, feeling it wrap around her, pulling her heart into sync with his.

8. “The prince must choose one prisoner to release to earn public favor, but his heart has already chosen long before logic can intervene.”

The prince stood at the edge of the courtyard, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a thousand stones. His father’s voice echoed in his mind, demanding he choose wisely, that the prisoner he freed must be the one who would best serve the kingdom’s image, securing public favor and quelling unrest. But as he scanned the line of prisoners, his gaze inevitably drifted to one — the girl with the haunted eyes, the one who had never begged for mercy. He had watched her for months, listened to her quiet defiance and her unspoken truths. The prince’s heart clenched, and before logic could even take root, he knew what her choice would be. The kingdom could wait, the politics could wait — but his heart had already made its decision. The girl who stood before him wasn’t just another prisoner; she was the one the prince could never let go.

9. “In the shadows of the palace, the prisoner teaches the sheltered princess about the outside world and about love that cannot survive in the light.”

In the dim corners of the palace, away from prying eyes, the prisoner spoke of a world the princess had only ever heard of in whispers — a world of dusty roads and endless horizons, of rebellion and freedom, of love that could never be seen in the light of day. As they sat together in the shadows, he shared stories of lives lived in the margins, of people who loved without the safety of royal protections, who risked everything for a fleeting moment of truth. The princess, sheltered by her gilded cage, listened intently, her world expanding with every word he spoke. With him, she discovered a love that burned fiercely, but was never meant to be displayed in the daylight, a love forged in the secrecy of stolen moments. The more she listened, the more she found herself yearning for a freedom she never thought possible — a freedom that came with a price, but one she was beginning to understand she might be willing to pay.

10. “The prisoner dares to call the prince by his true name — not his title — and it shakes something deep inside the royal’s carefully built walls.”

The prisoner’s voice cut through the stillness of the cell, low and steady, but it wasn’t the words that made the prince’s heart falter — it was the name. His name. Not his title, not the cold, distant mask he wore for the court, but the name only a few still dared to remember. For a moment, he stood frozen, the torches casting wavering light across the stone, the walls he had spent years building around himself trembling under the weight of it. No one had spoken to him like that in a long time — like he was a man, not a crown. The prisoner met his gaze without fear, and something inside him shifted, something dangerous and unbearably human, a crack in the armor he wasn’t sure he could ever mend.

Whether you’re writing defiance, forbidden connection, or the unraveling of power into something far more vulnerable — this dynamic lingers long after the final page.

More dynamic-driven prompt sets coming soon.

[6feathered6siren6]

ꕥ   Welcome   ꕥ

About me

I’m Siren. He/they, 21 years old. I’m an artist and a writer, I usually write my own original works, but I’m at a rut with my work so I’m doing fanfics to help with it. Some of my other works is at @sirensfeathers , if you want to check that out as well.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞   Socials   𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Instagram - 6feathered6siren6

Twitter - 6feathered6siren6

Discord - feathered666siren

Ao3- Feathered_siren_666

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞  Rules  𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 

I will get to your request when I can. I will try to write when I can, and draw before I go to bed. So please don’t pressure me to work faster, though I do like positive comments. *Please do not advertise in my inbox, I purely do this for fun and keeping me busy.*

When using my art, please credit me. I worked hard on a piece and I rather not see someone claim it as theirs.

I do look at my request box, and they are always open, but if I feel uncomfortable by it, I will deny it and move on. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 

Current hyperfixations: Killer chat, minecraft, stardew valley, gluttony gods

Do not put any of my work into AI please, I work hard on my art and fics, and it's highly disrespectful for the writer/artist.

My requests are open(Both drawing and writing, though it would be gluttony gods and killer chat based)!

Comms are a work in progress rn(Close to finishing)

Art trades are open! :)

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ * ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

My Masterlist(I will update as I go)

Killer chat

Ronin

Ronin x clairvoyant reader p1, p2, p3 (Discontinued)

Overworked Reader

Questions

The tall demon and short darling(headcanons)(Request)

Heavy with anxiety(Comfort)

The Devil's Embrace from Dreamland

Pedals and blades

Final Chapter in Red Ink(angst)

Karma's Hauntings(Part two to final chapter in red ink)(Angst)

Dreams and Reality(part three to the final chapter in red ink)(hurt/comfort)

Scaring the Devil(Request)

Bloody fangs licked clean(Request)

Media freak(Request)

Stone Memories(Request)

Sweet Moment with the Devil(Request)

Bad days(Request)

V

Car crash(Request)

Overworked reader(Request)

Saved by a snake(Monster prompt)

Gravity is your enemy(Accident prone reader)

Untold Fights

Memories

Pain and Support(request)

Midnight Reads and Moonlit Vows

Angel

Overworked Reader

"Good soup"(Let it bleed prompt)

Dress maker and model worker

Whispers of Sugar and Espresso

Misaki

Overworked Reader

Assassin? No. Bodyguard

The Secret from Flowers

'Death do us apart' Job

Retiring with a bang(Request)

Echo's of a cry(Request)

Foam darts and kid warfare(Request)

Killer chat extras

'Death game' Prompt

'Soulmate' Prompt(V x Ronin X Reader)

Sweet moments with the chaotic Duo

Doctor, Doctor(Request)

Therapist with morals(Request)

Finding home in a lost world(found family)

Family Party(V x Ronin x Reader)

Hidden in plain sight(Requested)

Spiderverse Au!

Case on the syndicate(Found family-ish)

Wrapped in love(V x Misaki x Reader)

Tipsy Secrets(request)

Soft Purrs and Silent Tears(Request)(Misaki's pov of FCIRI)

Innocent young detective with killer friends(Request)

Behind the curtain(Request)

Toddlers adventures(Request)

Prodigy(Request)

Meeting the In-Laws(Request)

Bonds through Embrace

Pulled into Life(Request)(Ronin x V x Reader)

Shadows and Secrets(request)(Ronin x V x Reader)(P2 of Pulled into Life)

Savory Dishes(Request)(Cannibalism)

Precision Meets Passion(Request)(Misaki x Angel x Reader)

Constant looping series

Winding back the clock(Time loop P1)

Neverending(Time loop P2)

Repeating(Time loop p3)

Paradox(Time loop p4)

Again & Again(Time loop p5)

Anomaly in time(Time loop p6)

Gluttony gods

Between Shadows and Seraphs(Thernin x reader)(P1)(request)

Caught between wings and horns(Thernin x reader)(P2)(request)

Sweet Words from Unlikely Heroes(Thernin x reader)(request)

.•⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚.•⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚

Art

Pop cat KC LI

Pop cat GG

Art dump #3

FeLuca Video

KC LI as dolls

Cookies with KC cast

Angel Animation wip

Angel Animation wip part two

Angel and Ronin biking

Angel and Sona Magazine

Ther royalty

Ther with glass wings

Doodle dump #1

Wip of bounce it meme

Wip two of bounce it meme

First drawing of Angel and Ronin

OC work for KC

Siren's voice headcanon/sheet

Siren celebrating his birthday with each LI

(more related works is under @sirensfeathers)

UnVale(Siren oc/band is under Mythwriters)

[starclanschoice]

Alright, this is some sort of a choose-your own path arg (?) game, but I'm yet to figure out how we are supposed to influence it. These asks? Comments on posts? A secret third thing that's probably hidden in plain sight but I haven't taken the time to look?

“Thank you for reaching out to StarClan. There is a lot more going on behind the stars than I anticipated and I worry that my time is running short, I have not been able to properly explain how to do this.”

“A post will be made with a how to live and make choices through the vessel, though with a sudden change of plans, I wanted to tell you something that might help you when you are finally able to leave the den. And, well —”

“If you look in the right places in the right times, you might be able to find some useful insights on the stars outside the territories. There has yet to be a count for how many there are, but if you discover these hints, you’ll have a good idea on where to start. We will make the needed changes to the blog once it’s found.”

“If we say too much here, she will find out what we’re doing. It’s on you to find this collective so we can properly meet. Look for the stars in the sky, where we shine the brightest. You’ll know when you’ve found it.”

“In the meantime, keep a lookout for the prologue. It might be confusing for you because of previous events, but play along. It’s important for later. She keeps a watchful eye in the stars, she’s testing your conscious. Don’t let her see through you.”

“StarClan will try to keep with you for as long as we can, but I have a bad feeling she is planning something terrible. The stars have been fading more and more each night. If I fade as well in the future, continue on with your mission as intended.”

Love, 🕊️

[thefoundersofsingapore]

Edited my game’s flowchart for the second time & ideas for additional secret endings

Decided to edit my flowchart yet again. Previously, I had wanted the game to branch around the start of 1825 because I felt that there won’t be enough time for the player to get Raffles to 5 hearts if he was going to leave Singapore permanently in 1823. However, I decided against it and decided to have most of the game branch in 1823 instead. The Farquhar branch will occur first, on 1st May, where he is either dismissed or not. Raffles’ branch will occur on 9th June, and determine if he leaves or not. To make up for the fact that the player would only have about 9-10 months in total to raise their affection with Raffles, I will be including additional choice moments that will help boost his affection.

Spoiler warning from this point onwards as this post covers additional secret characters I am planning to add:

Also, I have been thinking of adding ‘secret secret’ bachelors to the game, too. Yeah, there’s already a secret character in the game, and he is Crawfurd, but I was thinking more in lines of the secret routes from the Tokimeki Memorial Girl’s Side series, which I’m a huge fan of. I presume that most of my readers are not familiar with that series, so I will explain it.

The TMGS series features a cast of bachelors whom you can raise your affection with and get their endings normally, but every game also features at least 2 additional secret bachelors, whose endings you get not by raising their affections normally, but by fulfilling some secret requirements. The requirements differ depending on the character. For example, one of the games had a secret character whose ending you can get by answering all of his emails correctly, and another one requires you to go shopping lots of times and see all of his events. Another one even requires you to tap on him in the background to talk to him (talk about being hidden in plain sight!) every time you see him in the background.

If you fulfil all his ending requirements, your save/load screen will show the secret character next to the heroine in chibi form. You also have to not fulfil any of the ending requirements for any of the ‘normal’ bachelors.

These are what the chibi icons look like. The bottom two characters are secret characters, so they are just sort of in the background, behind the heroine, and not interacting with her. Also, the heroine uses the same default chibi pose shown before she gets close to anyone.

So, I was thinking that I can include Thomas Otho Travers and/or William Montgomerie, and/or Nathaniel Wallich in my game as the ‘secret secret’ characters (but only 1 or 2 of them, and not all 3, in order not to ruin the balance of the regular cast-to-secret secret cast ratio). Instead of raising their affection like what you need to do for the main cast, you have to fulfil special requirements. That would mean doing things like making a specific choice at certain decision points to raise their hidden stats. Their endings would go between Farquhar’s Secret Ending and the Canon Ending in the ‘Secret Charcter/Neutral Route’. Technically Farquhar’s Secret ending makes him a ‘secret secret’ character too. Meeting all their requirements change the icon you see for that save file on the save/load screen to an icon featuring the heroine with the secret secret bachelor. You also have to not meet the requirements for any other bachelor’s routes or endings, to get their endings.

It’s kind of interesting, though by sheer coincidence, that the secret secret characters I am picking for my game also just so happened to be another pair named Thomas and William. I bet some fans are going to think this was intentional, but it’s not.

However, this idea of having additional secret ideas will be a low priority matter. I will focus on getting all the routes for the main cast out before thinking about additional stuff like extra secret characters or the side stories.

Whatever it is, as I like the chibi icons shown in the save/load screen from the TMGS series, I am thinking of doing something similar for my game, too.

Here’s what I have in mind so far for each character. The chibi icons for each save file changes depending on the point you are at in the story:

- No Affection with anyone: Singapore is standing alone.

- Entered Raffles’ route: Raffles is pointing and explaining his plans to Singapore while she listens attentively.

- Entered Farquhar’s route (or requirements for the Farquhar Secret Ending are met): Farquhar is walking his dog while Singapore walks next to him.

- Entered the Love Triangle Route: Raffles and Farquhar are glaring daggers at each other, with Singapore in the middle, looking nervous or sweatdropping.

- Have attained at least 5 hearts with Crawfurd: Crawfurd is editing a newspaper with a quill pen while Singapore watches him.

- Fulfilled Travers’ ending requirements: Singapore is standing normally while Travers appears behind her in the background.

- Fulfilled Montgomerie’s ending requirements: Singapore is standing normally while Montgomerie appears behind her in the background.

- Fulfilled Wallich’s ending requirements: Singapore is standing normally while Wallich appears behind her in the background.

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 50

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = Tommy goes back to London to check on his horse. Major Campbell plays mind games with Ana.

Warnings = Language...Grammar...mentions of sex... guns...violence, arrests

Word Count = 2079

 Since returning from London I had felt more stressed than ever. I wanted to know what was going on with Tommy. Why was he so secretive about that file he kept hidden in his office? What was it? Who was it about it about? I had so many questions but not one answer. Anytime I asked him about it he, brushed it off in typical Tommy fashion: Cradling my bump and kissing me deeply making me lose all sense of thought. Damn hormones.

Early one Tuesday morning Tommy went off to London, to check on Arthur and the horse he purchased at the Derby. I knew that it meant he was going to see that horse trainer, that woman, May Carleton. I didn’t trust her, she was rich and no doubt was used to getting what she wanted. Tommy was a fine specimen of a man, anyone with eyes can see it. But he was a man. And men were weak.

To ease my concerns and jealously he allowed me to journey with him down South while he worked. As much as I wanted too I felt like he was testing me and my trust in him so I declined. Deciding to focus on the wellbeing of my parents. They were discharged from the hospital yesterday.

Tommy had stationed several men around their home, hoping to ease their and my worries. But the memory was still fresh, my mother refused to step into her bedroom instead opting to stay in my old bedroom. Something I understood, it was hard but it was an adjustment. I prayed they both found the strength they needed to carry on as I hated seeing them so weak and vulnerable. Even though our relationship was rocky, they were still my parents.

Finding myself unable to settle and seeing an opportunity. After lunch, I took myself to Tommy’s office. Passing Lizzie as I walked in, I started pulling open his filing cabinets, looking for this file. I hoped that he messed up and left it laying out in the open or tried to hide it in plain sight. But this was Tommy Shelby we were talking about here. Each breathe he takes is planned.

“What are you looking for?” Lizzie asked casually resting her shoulder against the frame of the door way.

“A file” I answered quickly, moving over to his desk. Opening the top drawer with ease, I found stray pens, paperclips and a gun. Shoving it closed I tried to open the last drawer but couldn’t. I pulled at it a bit harder.

“I think it’s locked” Lizzie chuckled, I looked up at her with an annoyed glare. “What’s so important? Do you think that is where he is keeping his secret wedding plans or something?”

“No, no not that” I shake my head grabbing a paperclip and trying to pick the lock. “It’s a file on someone or something he is hiding from me”

“Tommy hides a lot from you Ana its to keep you safe” Lizzie sighs fixing herself a glass of whiskey from Tommy’s collection in his office. “He keeps a lot from everyone even Polly. Don’t be so worried”

I look up at her annoyed before going back to jiggling with the locked drawer. “Well when my future husband starts setting up trusts funds and talking about his death. I want to know exactly what he is getting up to…” I huffed slapping the drawer with my hand. “Can you pick locks?”

“No but I can try” Lizzie sighed walking towards me ushering me away from the seat with her hands and taking the paperclip. I stood, leaning on his desk as Lizzie tried to work open the drawer to no avail. “I can’t do it.”

“Do you know any other way of opening a locked drawer?” I asked holding my baby bump, the baby was moving like crazy today. I felt like they were doing circles, round and round my stomach. It was the most surreal feeling.

“Not without Tommy knowing we were looking through his stuff, no” Lizzie shook her head standing up. “Sorry Ana.”

“What if I get a desk identical to this one and we switch them?” I proposed but as the words left my mouth I realised how ridiculous it sounded. If we switched the desk Tomy wouldn’t definitely know as the lock would be different. “Never mind.” I shake my head rubbing my temples. This would be the end of me.

******

Leaving Tommy’s office I walked in the direction of the betting shop. I wanted to talk to Polly and get her opinion, her thoughts on the whole situation. I got to the top of Watery Lane when I heard the sounds of a cane behind me. Turning around I noticed the seedy police major who had it out for Tommy and his family. Without a word, I made a move to go inside the shop when he finally spoke.

“Not saying hello Miss Adler? Rather rude of you wouldn’t you say?” His thick Belfast accent coming through. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Every word he spoke sounded degrading. He truly believed he was above us all.

“What do you want Major Campbell?” I snapped turning to face him. My hands protectively holding my bump as I looked at him. His face was repulsive. The dark sneer on his lips and the darkness behind his eyes had spread a cold chill through my spine.

“I was just wondering, how you could stay with a man… who disrespects and mistreats you so badly?” He asked with an underlying menace to his tone. “I mean, going off to London on the pretence of he is checking a horse? You don’t really believe that now do you?”

“No. I know how you work you're trying to turn me against Tommy. It’s not going to work” I scoffed, turning away, moving again towards the black door leading to the betting shop.

“And here I thought you were a smart girl Miss Adler. I appear to have been mistaken.” He chuckled darkly. “A little friendly advice, call the Carleton Estate. Ask to speak with your beloved and see if he accepts your call.” He sneered walking past me, cane clacking off the pavement. “I bet you will find he is… a little preoccupied with other pleasures.”

Glaring at the man until he left the street I stomped inside the betting office. The place was bustling as usual. I saw John from the corner of my eye writing on the blackboard. He was completely oblivious to me as I stormed through the shop. I found Polly who, once she saw me immediately gestured for me to follow her into her former home through the double green doors.

“What’s happened?” Polly asked instantly fusing over me. Her hands went to my swollen stomach, feeling around it like she would feel the problem. “Is the baby alright?”

“Yes, yes they are fine moving around a lot today. I need to borrow your phone” I bit my cheek. As much as I hated to admit it, the Majors words had gotten to me. I tried to convince myself that I trusted him and nothing was wrong but that voice. That horrible voice in the back of my head wouldn’t shut up.

“What’s happened?” Polly asked her suspicions heightened. She removed her hands from my stomach, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing, nothing…” I tried to brush off but it was clear she didn’t believe me. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, giving me that disapproving look until I broke. “That Major Campbell, he got into my head, said Tommy was enjoying the pleasures of that.. that horse trainer.”

“Oh Ana now, come on. Tommy is completely blinded by you, by his love for you. He knows if he steps one foot out of line you and that baby are gone. With my support.” Polly assured lifting her hand, giving me her index finger as a warning.

“I just want to be sure.” I sighed, tilting my head to the side as I rubbed my stomach. “Please.”

“Fine, fine.” Polly rolled her eyes ushering me into the living room area of their home. I sat on the large armchair as I rang the switchboard asking to be put through to the Carleton Estate.

I watched Polly place a piece of bread and jam in front of me, telling me to eat for the baby’s sake and a glass of water. I nodded thanking her as I waited from the other end to pick up the phone.

“Carleton Residence how may I help you?” A firm, female voice answered. I immediately assumed it was the head maid of the estate.

“Hello, I was hoping to speak with a gentleman who is visiting the estate today. A Mr Thomas Shelby.” I asked politely looking down, picking at the crust of the bread with my index finger and thumb.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible right now.” The woman on the other line spoke. The denial caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting to be told no over such a simple request.

“Alright, may I speak with the lady of the house? A Ms May Carleton?” I asked, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Polly looked over at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m afraid that is also not possible. Ms Carleton has retreated to her room for the evening and has asked not to be disturbed.” The woman replied and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Is the gentleman still there? Thomas Shelby, is he still there?” I asked my voice going up an octave higher in my panic.

“Yes, I believe he is.” The woman replied and I put my hand over my mouth. I almost dropped the phone when Polly grabbed it holding it to her ear. Asking questions of her own.

I was in shock, how could he do this to me I thought as I lay back on the chair holding my swollen stomach. Silent tears fell down my checks. This couldn’t be happening.

After hanging up the phone, Polly set about comforting me. Insisting we returned to her home at Bridge Cottage to think.  I rubbed the sides of my temples willing myself to stay strong and calm. This couldn’t possibly be true. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. I told myself.

Michael returned home after a long day in the office. I remained quiet sitting on Polly's sofa before a commotion at the door caught my attention. Polly was screaming, and Michael was yelling. I rushed quickly towards the front door noticing, three or four policemen pulling and shoving Michael into the back of the police car. Polly was screaming profanities as she rushed towards the car, slapping the glass, yelling for the release of her son.

“One by one you all will fall Miss Adler.” That voice that haunted me spoke. I turned seeing him leaning against the front of the house. That evil smile on his face. “Best get that baby and your parents out of here before I come knocking on your door next.” Major Campbell chuckled darkly, walking off and smirking at Polly as she was restrained.

I rushed out towards her wrapping my arm around her shoulders as Campbell and his men drove off, Michael in the back looking scared and lost.

“We will fix this. Tommy will fix this.” I assured Polly not sure if I believed my own words.

Taglist

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein @sydneyyyya @happysparklingshadows @margew76   @midnightmagpiemama  @pierre-gasssllyy  @duckybird101 @muhahaha303 @thenattitude  @dolllol2405

Anyone wanting on or off the tag list please just let me know 💙

[stevesjockstrap]

Decorating Games

@steddiemas prompt: day 1 deck the halls | rated: G

Steve had a very strict rule of no Christmas decorating until after Thanksgiving. Eddie didn’t understand it. He had no such qualms against disrespecting the patron saint of turkeys.

His quest, his secret scheme, was to slowly introduce Christmas decor every day and see how long it took Steve to notice. Last year he’d gotten cocky and the gingerbread throw pillows on the couch had been too much. He’d been caught and the game was up.

This year he was going to win. Eddie snorted, win this dumb game that he played against himself. But it was tradition at this point.

He slotted a nutcracker in between Steve’s sport trophies on the top shelf.

He chuckled as he added a plain green hand towel in the bathroom. Surely that counted.

The next day, he swapped out bookends for Santa and snowmen figures.

On Thanksgiving, he counted thirteen hidden-in-plain-sight decorations. They didn’t stick out but they were definitely there, arranged in all of their normal clutter. He congratulated himself for the best year yet.

When they came back home from Wayne’s for dinner, Steve left him alone for a few minutes. He stopped in his tracks when he came out to find Eddie standing under the garland across the doorway into the dining room. Fake pine boughs and berries adorned the empty space, and in the middle was a sprig of mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” he grinned.

Predictably, Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not Christmas, babe,” he grumbled as he walked over to him.

“It’s after Thanksgiving, though,” Eddie reasoned, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his temple as he looked up at the garland.

“Barely,” he snorted.

“Still counts.”

“How many decorations did you sneak up early this year, Eds?”

He pulled back in fake indignation, gasping and putting a hand to his chest, but unable to keep the huge smile off his face. “Well I don’t know what you mean, I would never do such a thing!”

Steve didn’t take the bait, simply smiling and nodding. “Of course you wouldn’t. I do like this though,” pulling him close again and looking back up at the mistletoe. “I’m sure I’m going to be spending a lot of time in this spot for the next month, huh?”

“Definitely,” Eddie agreed easily before finally sliding their lips together.

[mk-writes-stuff]

Word Associations Game

Rules: post some common words/themes/concepts from your WIP(s)

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks and @autism-purgatory for the tags! CW for mentions of abuse

Seven Station Chronicles

Common word: nobility

Like it or not (and trust me, Cassie does not like it), the nobles are one of the defining facets of the seven stations. Everything goes back to them one way or another (and that is definitely not a good thing)

Common theme: self-discovery

Every major character in Seven Stations is going through major self-revelations and coming to terms with who they are, who they can be, and who they have to be. It’s a rougher ride for some than for others (but let’s be real it’s pretty tough for all of them)

Common concept: abuse

There is a lot of abuse and dehumanization in the seven stations (stemming from aforementioned nobles). All of the protagonists have gone through a lot of abuse, but they’re recovering from it one step at a time

The Pirates’ Roost

Common word: captain

Kind of an obvious one for a pirate story, I know, but the captains of the various ships are central to the story. Merry’s life goal is to be the captain of a pirate ship, and both pirate and vampire captains feature heavily in primarily antagonistic roles

Common theme: recovery

Everyone in The Pirates’ Roost (okay not quite but there’s a lot) has been through some sort of horrible, painful experience. A lot of them have been through multiple. But they’re all healing, even if it’s just a bit at a time

Common concept: culture

The world of The Pirates’ Roost is full of complex cultures that are mistrustful of each other and fighting for their own space. There’s a lot of culture clash, even between protagonists

To Kill a Dead Thing

Bonus one because I think it’ll be fun for this game even though I’m not really working on it atm :)

Common word: hidden

The main villain, the Thief, wears other people’s faces to hide in plain sight and no one knows his own. Iskra, a major side character, insists on keeping this whole operation a secret - and she and her friend/business associate/partner Viv are definitely keeping secrets. And Nova, a good friend of Andreia, the deuteragonist, might be hiding a lot more than she would ever admit

Common theme: morals

One of the big questions in To Kill a Dead Thing is where your morals lie and what you’ll do in pursuit of your goals. The Thief seems to be trying to tear apart the protagonist Alexi’s morals - and Alexi is in the edge of cracking. Andreia gets involved with some things that are definitely on the edge of legal and questionably moral trying to help. And Viv and Iskra are definitely hiding something they maybe shouldn’t be, if not outright lying to everyone else, and no one knows if they’re justified or if they’re using the other characters for their own ends

Common concept: obsession

The Thief seems to have some deeply twisted obsession with Alexi. The more you learn about Iskra, the more you wonder if she’s really as emotionally uninvested in the Thief’s capture as she pretends. And Andreia’s friend Nova might just have a little more attention on Andreia than Andreia knows or would like to admit - and a bit more attention on Alexi than is good for either of them

This was fun!

@illarian-rambling @wyked-ao3 @rkmoon want to play?

[detnu-a-h]

Ooh tell us more about Saena & maybe even his adoptive teenager? 👀

Meet Saena:

Seemingly ordinary man with, of course, skeletons in his closet. To spoil a bit of his past, he was a patient from the Sanatorium, just like Hyles, which comes with a lot of repercussions as to his upbringing. That's info he has neatly kept secret from absolutely everyone he has met, so far, by all means necessary.

One stormy night, he appeared in a random city holding onto a child, a handful of money, and a new future he was determined to see to fruition. He is now a young father of a kid, who works at a hair salon as a manicurist, living his life in a well-off apartment. That's about everything anyone knows about him.

I purposefully made his adoptive kid's details scarce and ambiguous since I have no real idea as to what to do with them yet, not even their gender or anything, but a big thing of Saena's has been his desire to become a guardian, so he wouldn't have left the Sanatorium if he didn't have the possibility of that element with him. This comes with its own repercussions, too. Not only did he take the kid away on a whim, but Saena literally stole a valuable asset (two, if you count himself) from the Sanatorium, which is why his skeletons are more of a bother than he lets on.

Regardless, he is really good at keeping his past hidden from prying eyes. It is he who can't really catch a break from it, though. Plus, there is always a lingering fear of losing his kid, which is a feeling he both appreciates and loathes. His kid is special, and the ramifications of this makes it complicated for both the members that are secretly still at the Sanatorium and Saena himself. Constant cat and mouse game hidden in plain sight.

[coriihanniee]

Guess WHO! - boynextdoor smau

𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : When multiple leaked photos ignite a wildfire of speculation, the world is certain—BOYNEXTDOOR'S Y/N is secretly dating one of the members. But who? No one knows, and you refuse to clear the air. Instead, you turn the chaos into a game, scattering cryptic clues and half-truths while every member plays along, deepening the mystery. Every glance, every post, every moment is a riddle waiting to be solved. Is the answer hidden in plain sight, or are you leading everyone in circles? How far can a secret stretch before it unravels? And when it does—will anyone be ready for the truth?

BONUS CHAPTER 3 : our youth is free

The fansign venue buzzes with an electric energy, the air thick with excitement as fans eagerly await their turn. The line snakes through the room, each person holding something—a poster, a shiny album, a hand-written note, all for BOYNEXTDOOR. But for you, today carries an unfamiliar weight. The familiar sounds of the venue and the soft rustle of pages only make you feel more acutely the eyes on you. It’s your first real interaction with fans in public ever since everything came to light, and the fear of being scrutinized feels overwhelming.

"I’ve done this before," you tell yourself, "It’s just another event, another performance."

But your heart refuses to slow its frantic beat.

The line inches closer, and you find yourself glancing at Taesan, who stands beside you like an anchor in the storm. He’s quiet, almost too calm for someone who has just as much attention on him as the others. His eyes, however, tell a different story—those soft brown eyes that have always had a way of seeing through your defenses. When they meet your gaze, there’s a flicker of understanding in them, like he knows exactly how you feel.

He leans just close enough for only you to hear. "Hey," he says, his voice low and soothing, "You’re doing great."

You don’t know why, but those words—a simple reassurance—are enough to slow the frantic fluttering in your chest. You offer him a weak smile, but inside, your heart is still racing.

“Thanks,” you manages, your voice barely above a whisper.

Taesan chuckles softly, the sound as comforting as a soft blanket on a cold night. "Don’t think I didn’t see that," he teases, his smile growing. "But if anyone’s going to freak out, it’s gonna be me, not you."

A breath of laughter escapes your lips despite yourself. “You?” You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were the type to get nervous.”

He shrugs, the corner of his lips curling up. "I’ve got my moments."

The playful banter between you feels like a lifeline, something you cling to as the moments stretch on. Each fan that steps up to meet you feels like a countdown, a test of your nerves. But with Taesan’s quiet presence by your side, it becomes a little easier to breathe. It feels almost like a shared moment, something private amidst the chaos of your lives.

As the last fan in line approaches, you exhale, thankful for the end of the event. The young woman before you smiles brightly, holding up a signed poster for you to see. “YN,” she says, her voice almost shy, “I just wanted to say that you and Taesan... you two really seem happy. It’s like you both belong together.”

The words hang in the air longer than expected, and you freeze for a fraction of a second, your pulse quickening. Taesan, just next to you, looks at you for the briefest moment before responding for you both. His voice, casual yet full of a depth you could hear without words, responds smoothly.

“You could say that,” Taesan says with a soft smile. “We’re lucky to have each other."

Your chest tightens at the way his words feel like a secret, something shared only between the two of you. Your eyes flicker to him, and for a moment, the whole room blurs. It’s just him, his steady presence, his warmth enveloping you. The world feels quieter with him here, as though it’s been waiting for this—this very moment when you’d realize how much he means to you.

The fan moves on, and Taesan meets your gaze again, his eyes soft but knowing. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours with a light touch, but the spark of it sends something electric through you.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Taesan asks, his voice softer now, the noise of the venue fading into the background.

You swallow, nodding slowly. “Just... how much they expect from us. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, like you're the only person in the room. The usual playfulness in his expression softens, and in its place is something far deeper, far more sincere.

“You could never disappoint them,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours, fingers gently intertwining. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

A shiver runs through you at the sincerity of his words. You look down at your joined hands, the weight of it almost too much to bear—how easily he makes you feel safe, how effortlessly he can break through the walls you've built around yourself. The vulnerability is terrifying, but it’s also comforting, like the promise of something steady, something you can count on.

The event winds down, and the final fan leaves. The place is still buzzing with the residue of excitement, but your heart is quieter now. With Taesan beside you, the world outside feels like a distant echo. The two of you step away from the table, the chaos behind them. For the first time that night, you feel like you can breathe.

Taesan takes a slow breath, pulling you aside to a quieter corner, away from the crowd. The night air is crisp, and there’s a gentle hum of the city around them, but everything feels muted, softened by the weight of the moment.

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours as though asking a question without words. And for a moment, you can’t look away, not because of the pressure or the anticipation of what’s to come, but because in that instant, everything between you is clear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you...” His voice is low, almost hesitant, but there’s something in the way he holds your gaze that makes your heart race.

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind scrambling for words. "What?"

He takes a step closer, his voice a tender whisper in the stillness. “You’re everything to me.” His words are simple, but the emotion behind them is overwhelming. They hang in the air, thick with meaning, like the silence before a storm.

For a long moment, you don’t know how to respond. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst, like it could fill the entire world. You close the gap between you and him, your hand reaching up to gently touch his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you feel a surge of something powerful—the need to say something, to admit what’s been building between you for so long.

“I think... I think I’ve always known,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your own feelings.

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly, as though trying to memorize the moment. “We’re just getting started,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth curving into that signature, soft smile.

And for the first time in your life, you realize that some moments don’t need words. You can feel everything in the way his thumb brushes over your hand, in the way his eyes never leave yours. He doesn’t need to say anything more. You know.

In this quiet, perfect moment, nothing else matters.

The moment between you and Taesan is soft, quiet, and entirely your own. You’ve finally stepped out of the shadows, the weight of secrecy lifted. As you gaze up at him, your heart still races in a way that feels fresh, new, even though the world now knows what you've known for a while. That you're with him. That you're his.

Taesan’s gaze softens, his hand gently cupping your face as he leans in closer, brushing his lips against your forehead. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion.

You nod, the warmth of his presence settling the last of your nerves. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just... feels unreal.”

“You’re more than okay, YN,” he whispers, his lips grazing your hair as he smiles. “You’re perfect. And this? This is real. All of it.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you lean into him, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. Just as you close your eyes, the sound of muffled voices breaks the silence, followed by a burst of laughter.

Suddenly, the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR emerges from behind a cluster of trees, their playful expressions impossible to miss. Sungho, his usual mischievous grin in place, raises an eyebrow and glances between them. “Well, look at this. The cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

Leehan gives a small, knowing smile, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby lamppost. “We’ve known for months, but still—seeing it in person? It's entertaining to say the least."

Woonhak, not even attempting to hide his grin, steps forward with a teasing look. “I hate to admit it, but you two are adorable.”

You laugh softly, feeling the sudden flood of warmth from the boys, all of them genuinely happy for you. For them.

“Well, the whole world does know now,” Jaehyun says with a smirk, his arms folded loosely. There’s a softness in his eyes, though, something like understanding and approval. “So no need to keep hiding in quiet corners anymore.”

Riwoo, who has been quietly observing from the back, steps forward with a small smile. His calm presence always feels like a quiet anchor in the storm, and now, more than ever, it feels comforting. “We’re happy for you,” he says, his voice steady, yet full of sincerity. “You’ve got all of us.”

You feel a flush of warmth rush to your cheeks. They’ve been by your side from the start, even when you tried to keep everything a secret. It’s not just Taesan who’s always supported you—this family, this group of incredible people, have been with you every step of the way.

Taesan chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, well, the hiding part never worked anyway. Can’t say I’m sad about it.”

You glance up at him, your heart filled with a quiet, peaceful happiness. “Neither am I,” you admit. You turn to the group, smiling at all of them. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for you, YN,” Woonhak says, winking. “But seriously, when’s the next date night? I’m tagging along."

You laugh, the sound light and carefree. “I think we can all agree that this night belongs to me and Taesan, don’t you think?”

“Fine, fine,” Sungho grins, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “We’ll leave you two alone... for now.”

The playful banter continues, and you find yourself completely at ease. It’s not just about Taesan anymore. It’s about all of them—the boys who’ve watched over you, supported you, and even if they’ve teased you, have always had your back. There’s no more need for secrecy, no more fear of judgment.

As the conversation fades into laughter and casual chatter, Taesan turns to you, pulling you close, his arms encircling your waist. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“This is it, isn’t it?” you murmur softly, looking up at him. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, and now we get to enjoy it. Together.”

And in that moment, as you all stand together, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights, something in the air shifts. It's a quiet realization that settles within you, like a deep breath after holding it in for far too long. The warmth of Taesan’s embrace, the familiar banter of the boys, and the gentle rhythm of the night create a sense of peace that you never knew you needed so much.

In the midst of it all—the excitement, the chaos, the uncertainty—there’s an undeniable truth. This is only the beginning. The end of all the secrets, all the silences. No more hiding in the shadows or pretending for the sake of others. From now on, it’s about what’s real. What’s true. What’s theirs.

There’s a lightness in your chest, an unspoken promise between you and Taesan, and the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR. The world might have its opinions, the fans might have their theories, but none of that matters. Because this moment—this group, this love—is everything that’s right. The truth is out, and it’s nothing like you expected, but in the best way.

No more secrets. No more pretending. Just love. Just them.

With every step forward, there’s a sense of freedom, like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. Laughter spills out of the boys behind you, playful teasing and casual jokes filling the space around them, but for you, it’s like they’re in their own little world. A world where the future is bright, and it’s filled with endless possibilities.

As the night stretches on, and the group continues to enjoy the moment—like a dream you’re living in real time—you let the reality of it all settle into your heart. There is nothing else you could ask for. With Taesan, with the boys, and with the love and support surrounding you, you're finally free.

previous masterlist

@coriihanniee 💌

🕊 - I can't believe it's officially over 🥹 thank you for staying with me till the end! PLEASEEE DON'T LEAVE YET bcs I have a gongfourz fic and enhypen smau coming up real soon so do stay tuned to that if you're a fan of both groups! I'm also opening perm taglist so do cmt if you'd like to be in it!

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @heeheesang @molensworld @wondoras @taesanfav @bbyinni @minfolio @mbella607 @cinnamonshuaa @defnotsanni @amarecerasus @enaile23 @nujeskz @janjoonty @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @pumpkg @cosmicwintr @mimimimiaa @hanniehq @s0shroe @slowlylefttyphoon @s1lkrabbit @missychief1404 @fae-renjun

[rhysie]

sender dances with the receiver at a masquerade — @wyrdbones ( ambrosia )

every night is a game of of deceit, every movement carefully calculated — even after all of these years, however much it feels as though the cavernous stone walls are sometimes closing in on him, it's one that rhysand doesn't plan on losing. the throne room has come alive, all for amarantha's sick enjoyment of recreating the ball that got them trapped to begin with, a celebration to mark the forty-eighth year. the high fae forced to attend don't bother to mask their aversion, playing along out of obedience & nothing more. rhysand appears in a sharp contrast, radiating light in tendrils of starry darkness, a serpentine smile cemented onto lips as he approaches his target.

it's a rare thing, to find one of amarantha's weaknesses ... her secret, right in front of him, hidden in plain sight. any chance to make her sweat, he'll gladly take — dangle it in front of her for however long he needs. which has lead him here: prowling around her daughter, bowing at the waist with such feline grace, not paying any mind to the gaze he feels burning onto him. he straightens, offering his hand. " care for a dance? "