bakerstreet | Hide it away

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[meme] shipping

Hide it away

hidden relationship;

The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both teammates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not supposed to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own.

Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal.

...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other?

how to play.

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Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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[OOC: Lunafreya as a solo queen, secretly involved with her Queensglaive? ♥]

[ooc: That sounds marvelous, yes please.]

The widowed queen of united Lucis and Tenebrae had traded her white dress for widow’s weeds for a time — after the turmoil, unification, fall of the Empire and the last line of Lucis, after a hasty wartime wedding that they’d barely managed to rush through before the new king sacrificed himself.

That was a while ago. Now, she’s back to clean pristine royal white, and wearing that mantle of responsibility nicely as she fields long, droning statesmanship speeches. Lunafreya remains placid and still even into the fourth hour, expression always attentive, back and shoulders straight. But over the pompous Galahdian ambassador’s shoulder, she can see her personal guards and Queensglaive ringing the meeting room — and Nyx, right at the head of them, looking polite but bored as hell. During yet another ambassadorial grumble over trade tariffs, he rolls his eyes at her, and she has to quickly bite her tongue to bursting into laughter in the middle of this incredibly important meeting.

Later, once the diplomats are finally filing out and making their goodbyes, she rises to her feet with hands neatly clasped in front of her — but the queen has taken up position beside Nyx, a bit closer than propriety likely allows.

“Cheeky,” she says quietly, face still trained to watch them go, not looking at him, but the smallest of smiles curves the corner of her mouth.

Nyx was there for all of it, he witnessed Lunafreya's ascent to the throne, watched her go through loss and emerge stronger and more beautiful than ever. Because that's what she is, strong and determined and it makes her so attractive to Nyx.

He remained by her side, doing everything to protect and support her as part of her Queensglaive, never anything too much to ask. His loyalty to the throne was going to stay with him for the rest of his life, and now that Lunafreya was Queen, his loyalty had grown into absolute adoration.

He probably never did much to hide how fond he was of her, he showed her the respect a royal deserved, but still never shied away from seeing a person in her, a friend. That was why he could get away so easily with teasing her during formal meetings like this one. He knows Lunafreya is just as bored as he is, and still they both have to remain professional, but a tiny mutual jest was enough to get them both through it.

He glances at her as she moves just that tiny bit too close for it to be proper, finding some excitement in wondering if anyone even noticed.

"I have no idea what you mean, your highness." He replies, his eyes are all that betray his amusement.

Luna scoffs a little, bemused, and even that little sound is more casual and relaxed than most people get to hear from her. “One of these days, you’re going to make me laugh in the face of a diplomatic envoy, and we’ll wind up at war with Altissia. I hope you’re happy, then.”

Nyx is one of the few people she can speak to normally and who sees through that outer shell, someone more than the queen, more than the Oracle, more than something to be placed delicately on a pedestal and never treated as a human being — instead, he can see her as someone with a sense of humour, and wants and desires.

Besides, he doesn’t handle her with kid gloves, and keeps her from getting too full of herself; servants had occasionally been horrified by the sight of the two of them bickering goodnaturedly over the breakfast table. After everything they’ve been through together — an ordeal far more dramatic for bodyguard and queen, compared to the traditional job interview — Lunafreya Nox Fleuret has rock-solid faith and trust in the man by her side, and no one was surprised when she selected him to head her private guard.

What they don’t know, however, is what happens behind closed doors: the stolen moments when no one’s looking, the way he slips into her quarters at night.

"Don't tempt me," He starts, then glances at her as he realizes. "But if it means we will end up having to travel to Altissia for peace negotiations... It would be so horrible to have to escort you through all those beautiful streets and take those endless gondola rides together... No, you're right, I shouldn't ever do this again, the risk for that is too great."

The glaive is joking, of course. When the final diplomat has left the room, he signals at the rest of the Queensglaive that they may leave. Of course that doesn't mean they'll be alone, it's hard to be alone with the Queen of united Lucis and Tenebrae, there are always people around. Advisors, personal attendants, people waiting around corners to try and catch her to ask for advice or aid. Bless the gods for bestowing this Galahdan with endless amounts of patience, but the reward in the end is always worth it.

He keeps his eyes on the room, and at the exact moment he is sure nobody's eyes are on them, he moves his hand, brushing his fingers against Luna's. A small gesture, but very meaningful to the both of them. He takes a step forward, gesturing for her to take the lead. "What is next on the agenda, your highness?"

“So horrible,” she agrees with a theatrical sigh — as if a small canal holiday in Altissia with Nyx wouldn’t be an actual dream come true, perhaps a small but deserved break from the throne room, the negotiations, her stiff upper lip and implacable regal facade.

But then, there it is: his fingers ghosting across hers, and that small touch, that hint of intimacy, is enough to send a shiver rippling down Luna’s spine. It’s gone too soon, the man falling back into shield-arm position by her side.

And in that moment, she makes a decision. “I heard one of the windows had broken in the Hall of History. It’s a security risk, don’t you think? We ought to inspect it.” Luna’s voice is light, gentle — and lying through her teeth, concocting a reason for them to slip away.

Nyx was already moving forward, expecting something straight forward to be planned next, but his whole body stops when Luna speaks, only his lips form a silent 'oh'. Even after all this time a prospect like this is enough to send a shiver through his spine and give him a funny feeling in his stomach, because he knows what Luna is steering towards.

"You are right, that is very important, your highness. We must investigate at once." The Hall of History should be empty at this time, a smart choice of the queen. "Please lead the way."

( info in journal. )

[This is my jam. I can prompt if needed]

[Same as above in Steve flavor]

It had started when she'd asked Nat if she could keep it a secret, and it's become a habit. Even though she doesn't really need to, really, not at first. It's later when it becomes imperative.

At first, when the Avengers split into two, Natasha with Tony Stark and James Rhodes, with Wanda Maximoff and the Vision. But Betty suspects from the first that it can't last. He father is Secretary of State, after all, and she knows damn well what Thaddeus Ross is like. Eventually, Nat has to defect. That's when it really got to be a secret, she thinks. It's not as hard to hide as she imagines Secretary Ross thinks it should be for her, but she's got years of experience by now at hiding things from him.

It's all about staying under the radar.

There's a biology research symposium in Antwerp, and that's an opportunity disguised as a poster session. It's a short train ride from Antwerp to Bruges. It's harder to get a message out to Nat, but they've got that figured out now, too. Betty's lips twitch as she slips into a tiny bistro on a side street. Someone might even say they've got it down to a science.

She's in a corner booth, waiting with a glass of wine when she sees Nat. She's blending in, Betty thinks, even with the bright hair, but she always does. "Goeije 'n avend," she says, and grins. "That's all the Flemish I've got."

She's eventually going to have to change the hair, Natasha knows. Especially if she's going to be doing things like this. It's a big risk, but honestly, in the scope of things, she's tired of making constant sacrifices that amount to nothing. That are for nothing. And these meetings...well. Let's just say they're more than worth it, and Natasha Romanoff is good at nothing so much as she is calculated risk.

No one looks twice at the brunette in the corner booth. One or two people look twice at the beautiful redhead, but not for the reasons that would concern her. Beauty always dazzles, leaves the details a little vague. A little distraction, a brief word to start an intense conversation between the few people up front, and they've forgotten all about the woman with the bright red hair by the time she slips into the booth across from Betty, a small smile playing across perfectly painted lips.

"Not terrible. Wat is een meisje zoals jij op deze plek?" Natasha answers, and the small smile grows a little bigger. She's never quite sure what to expect from these little rendezvous. It's part of the draw.

Betty turns heads in her field, and it's not her favorite thing, but watching Nat enter a room is always an education. People stare at her, and then they look away - like someone sparkly catching your eye for a second.

Betty has more trouble looking away than most, but then the days are past when they both could walk to their favorite martinis with their best silk and lace on under their clothes.

"I have no idea what you just said," Betty says with a laugh. She lifts the wine bottle. "It's not vodka."

There's a trick to it, she's told Betty. Offered to teach her, on more than one occasion, but somehow those lessons always end up with one of them getting distracted. There are many, many distractions to be found, even now when they know what there is to find, even when they're less able to wear silk and lace. Maybe even more distractions, honestly.

But the point remains that she knows how to turn heads and then turn them away again, and yet despite that Betty always keeps looking, and Natasha has found that she doesn't at all mind it. It's nice, once in a while, when you're in hiding and invisible, to be seen.

"Maybe I'll teach you later, if you're interested in a lesson," she answers, humor sparkling in her voice as she slides over the empty glass that's been waiting for her. Betty can pour from the open bottle. It's a trust that isn't afforded to many people. "A little change isn't bad, occasionally. I trust your taste. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

They've tried it, more than once, but the thing is it just ends up just where they want to be. That's tangled up in a bed or on a couch. When they were still both in and around D.C., there were a lot of evenings huddled in one of their apartments with Netflix on and popcorn tucked between them, and Clyde doing his best cloud impression on the floor.

"We can give it another try," she says. She has an idea how rare it is for Nat to trust someone with an open bottle; sometimes it's useful to seem naïve, but she never has been. Not for a long while now. "No, work ran late. I just got here."

Translation: irritating French biologist cornered her on the way to the train station in Antwerp. She'd played along, and then detoured - because who knew anymore when a man was just another one of Thaddeus Ross' spies?

She misses DC. It was a strangely domestic feeling; movie marathons, popcorn, the soft rumble of a cat, long, lingering touches unhurried by place or time. It hadn't ever been anything she'd expected, not from anyone but least of all from this quarter. But then, could she really be that surprised? Bruce had always had a type, and that type was beautiful and fierce and intelligent. And perceptive, she thinks; Betty had taken one look at her that first visit, when she'd come to relay the news after Sokovia, and had seen everything. She'd understood everything. Perhaps this had all actually started that first night. Maybe they'd both known, in a way, where they'd end up.

Natasha listens as Betty explains, and there's a glimmer in her eye at the very brief answer. "Work, or wishful thinking?" she asks, a smile hidden in the words. "You know how captivating you can be when you start talking about the parts of your research you're passionate about."

Betty's breath huffs out. It's an amused sound, but she's thinking about what Nat says - and thinking of the deep glow of her auburn hair in the dim lights of the bistro. Both of those things. They agree that Bruce - wherever he is - has excellent taste; if Betty is beautiful, fierce, and intelligent, Nat's the same. "I suppose it could have been a little of column a, and a little of column b," she says. "I still can't be sure that every man who shows interest isn't slipping information to Ross."

The other Ross. They don't need her to clarify. "It wouldn't occur to my father to use a woman," she adds dryly. "His daughter couldn't possibly be queer."

At Betty's words, Natasha huffs a quiet laugh, looking down into her glass. "Of course not. I've known a lot of men like him, they don't have any room in their world view for the possibility that a beautiful, intelligent woman could possibly also enjoy the company of another woman." Wry notes warm her voice. It's something she's dealt with herself, though it's...perhaps a little different.

"Someone like me, on the other hand, they'll assume will sleep with anyone, because it doesn't matter and every identity is a construct, anyway." There's more than one reason she prefers Betty's company, these days. Betty never assumes. She just knows.

Both assumptions are the kind of bullshit that would make Betty angry if she let it. As it is, she knows it's useful, the things men - it's usually, if not always, men - assume about them. It's what's allowed them to stay under the radar at a time when Natasha needs to be far under the radar.

"It's the ones who think the most of themselves that are worth the least amount of time," she says instead. "In fact, I think we've already spent enough time on them. Did you get wind of the whole...ferry thing?"

The Staten Island Ferry splitting in half, she means, and the comedic father and son duo of Iron Man and Spider Man. Look, Betty knows it was the opposite of funny, but also - it was a little bit, if you think about it.

[Life for James Potter was as close to heaven and as close to hell as it could possibly be. He had the woman of his dreams as his partner, as his lover, but he couldn't tell anyone about it. When they passed on the street, he could only smile as a friend before walking on but when they were alone behind closed doors, only then could he show his true feelings with kisses and so much more.

But a secret relationship was better than no relationship and to make life just that little better, he'd taken it upon himself to find ways of cheating the system. Trying to steal kisses here and sometimes a wink instead of just a smile there.

Today, James decided to use his invisibility cloak. Easily following her until she got to the alley way, he quickly pulled her to the side, pulled the cloak over her as well, then kissed her deeply on the lips with his usual gusto and grin.]

Hey you.

[If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure if this was going to work. While she was well versed in the art of keeping her personal life and her work life as far away from each other as possible, she was worried of the strain and toll that James would be put under. She had told him, up front, just how things were go work if they were to go ahead with the relationship and he had agreed - much to her surprise. He was far more open and affectionate than she. And he had surprised her with just how well he had done with keeping to the terms of the arrangement.

For all the secrecy, she did try to make attempts to acknowledge him in code when they did cross paths. Hers were more subdued than his, such as calling him by his first name instead of his last. A longer smile here and there. It's the most she was able to do, considering she was often with at least one other person, giving instructions or information. Like she was today, finishing up a small detail in a seedy area of downtown.]

Now go and take these reports to the lab. Have them do a detailed sweep of this item. [She hands over a firearm encased in a clear plastic bag.] I want every inch dusted for fingerprints. Have them see if there is anything unusual about the material as well.

[With the assistant gone, Elena pivoted and headed back to the office. She had a full report to complete and just where the hell had Potter gone? He was supposed to meet her to investigate a suspected terrorist cell. When she got her hands on him -]

...!

[For the briefest of seconds she's caught off guard, heart rate jumping up into her throat and breath catching as she finds herself pulled off the main street. She moves out of instinct, hand reaching into her suit jacket to withdraw her firearm to "encourage" her assailant to back off. Except in the blink of an eye she's still standing in the alleyway, covered by a thick fabric and surrounded by a scent and warmth she knows instantly.

I'm going to kill him one of these days, I swear to the summons.

Leaving the firearm in its holster, she return the quick kiss before jabbing a pointed finger in the middle of his chest.]

You. Are. Late. Left me to do the entire sweep and now I have to do the report by myself. [She's only partially mad, the seriousness of her face softening, hands smoothing out his shirt before reaching up to fix his hair. The cloak, while it could cover the both of them, just wasn't big enough to not mess up his hairstyle.] But I suppose this is a good start to making up for your tardiness.

[She gives a quick, chaste kiss.]

Have you been following me this whole time?

[James chuckled as she tried to fix his hair. Didn't she know he messed it up intentionally? But he didn't stop her. He loved any affection she'd give and since he didn't get it very often, he would never turn it down.]

Yup. We can still do the report together if you want. Or we can go inside and continue this without the cloak.

[He winked, his grin telling her all she needed to know. Though James had shown considerable restraint not using the cloak before now. He'd wanted to be sure she was happy with the state of things. It might not be what he wanted, but if it made Elena happy then he'd do it for her.]

[Why no, James. She didn't think that he would purposely keep his hair disheveled. She was a stickler for perfection. Not a single blonde hair ever fell out of place nor was there a single wrinkle on her clothes.]

You know, James. If you've got this much time to goof around, the Director could find you work to do.

[All it would take was a single word from Elena and it could happen to. An empty threat, for the most part. She was already a workaholic. She didn't need to drag him down that path. She makes a tsk'ing noise, a corner of her mouth quirking into a small smirk.]

Clearly you will be helping with the report and I'll be curious how you're going to explain how you saw everything without other people noticing you. [Because you did shirk out of your responsibilities, James.] And I think we can take a few minutes for ourselves. I don't have anything on calendar for another 30 minutes and I don't think I'll be missed for that long.

[Or, in other words, they had just enough time before anybody noticed that they were gone. Hands press against his chest and gives a slight push towards the wall behind him.] So tell me, Potter. How do you plan on utilizing that time?

[Interested?]

[ definitely! ]

The window was left open and Gellert hid a smile. It was far too late for Albus to be having visitors, but when had he ever played by the rules? Apparating himself to the ledge, he pushed open the glass panes and slipped into the awaiting room. A bouquet of fire lilies were hidden behind his back and there was a playful smirk on his lips.

"Albus? Are you still up?"

Edited 2018-12-02 02:36 (UTC)

It certainly is too late for Albus to have visitors, but there's only one he hopes for, truly. He leaves his window open most nights, perhaps eased almost closed when it nears winter, but open nonetheless. It isn't proper, visitors this late, but Gellert has never played by the rules either.

He's perched at his desk when Gellert makes his appearance, lamp bright enough to read, but dim enough to be a simple warm glow. There's no hesitance in the way he rises from his chair, turning to get a good look at him. He doesn't think he'll ever grow used to the way his heart skips one, two beats at the sight of him. It's a dangerous feeling.

"I'd have thought you stepped right out of my dreams if I wasn't, so I suppose it's a good thing I am." It's said with a quirk of one corner of his lips, quickly smothered by the way he presses them together. There's no hiding how pleased he is to see Gellert.

Rules are made to be adjusted and outright shattered. At least that is how Gellert feels, especially since the majority of the world - either world - can't match their intellect. As far as he is concerned that isn't even bragging.

The lamplight is promising and once he leaps down from the ledge and closes the window in his wake, Gellert eagerly seeks out the lone occupant. The gold of his hair catches what little light Albus has allowed himself and his smile is bright and wild. He produces the fire lilies - they really are stunning flowers - and he laughs softly:

"Do you dream about me often?" he sets the flowers aside and cups Albus's face between his hands, "I missed you too."

He glances across the room to the door to make sure it is closed tightly. Then he gives Albus a rather enthusiastic kiss, wrapping him in his arms.

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Hide it away

Nyx Ulric | FFXV Kingsglaive

Re: Nyx Ulric | FFXV Kingsglaive

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i love that they could also fit into the 'bodyguard shipping' prompt

Seems like a natural thing for them.

Arthur Morgan | Red Dead Redemption 2

karl messmann ( original ) m/m

James Buchanan Barnes | MCU Pre-Serum | M/M

Steve Rogers | MCU | Pre-Serum | M/M

kylo ren ( STAR WARS ) ota

Noa | Granblue Fantasy | M/M

Alec Lightwood | Shadowhunters | M/M

Queen Camina | Persian mythology OC | ota

Betty Ross | MCU | Private to tothefly

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Elena | Final Fantasy VII Compliation

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albus dumbledore ( hp ) m/m

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Jyn Erso | Rogue One | OTA

Angel Evangelista ( Pose ) m/f

Alfred ( Vikings )

Nico Acosta | OC | M/F

Evie Montgomery | OC | F/M