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flowercrown-bucky · 4 years

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The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen?

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left." Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson smut #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #loz writes loki

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lvlyhao · 3 years

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「PART TWO: FEAR」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: took me long enough to post, I know, but thank you to that last anon for reminding me of the series lol with school i tend to forget what i have and haven’t posted but i’ll do better from now on. i hope you like this :)

important: this chapter includes mentions of vomiting and though i’ve already put a warning for violence and gore in the masterlist, i’m saying it again: please don’t read this if you are not okay with that!!!!

word count: 2.1K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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“I’m heading out”, your hands fondly squeeze Taeyong’s shoulders from behind him. He does not look up from his task for a few seconds, counting rolls of gauze. Then, upon processing your words, he twirls to face you. His eyes trail up and down your figure, making a mental checklist of everything you need to be safe. Apparently, one thing is missing.

“Take Jaehyun with you”, he asks, “or maybe Yuta. Johnny is always good to have around, and so is Renjun. Those swords of his are no joke”, he rambles, losing focus. The way he places his hands on his hips and sighs tells you he’s absolutely drained. “Or maybe I should go with you—”

Shaking your head fervently, you pat his cheek for his attention, observing the streaks of noon sunlight across his face. He stares at you with concern and shifts his weight.

“You’re staying right here and so are the boys, Tyong. We haven’t found a survivor in weeks, and taking one of them is always more stressful than anything”, you reason. Recollections of how the boys attract trouble wherever they go cloud your mind, far too many to count. The air suddenly feels too chilly, with shivers running down your spine.

“Just stay here and maybe find a way to rest. You know Doyoung won’t mind keeping track of the supply for you.”

At this point, he knows it’s no use arguing.

“Just be careful… and get back before dawn”, he adjusts the collar of your jacket, thinking back to the weather outside of the grey walls of the dorms. “All I’m saying is you never know what you’re gonna find.” Giving you a tight-lipped smile and a nod, he resumes his job, and you leave him. Headed to the heavily locked iron doors guarded by the towering figures of Shotaro and Sungchan, you ask yourself if there was any hidden depth to Taeyong's words.

“You never know what you’re gonna find, huh", you mutter.

Now, roaming the deserted streets on your own and basking in the orange glow of the afternoon, you just think he was wrong.

It’s already been a couple of hours since you left: you’ve explored parts of the district you barely even knew before the virus, seeing all kinds of animals scurrying around your path. You’ve also eaten the rice balls Jaemin packed for you, and you’ve gawked at the decaying building that used to be your favourite theatre. It’s all the same as you imagined it would be. Not many walkers litter this part of town—just 7 or 8 you managed to avoid—and no people. No one worth rescuing.

Wandering like this, in silence, brings back memories you're not sure you like. Weekly game nights with your friends, attending Jisung’s dance presentations, playing in the park’s playground at night... All of those feel foreign to you, parts of life too good to have ever been yours. Still, the need for a shot of wistfulness takes over, and you sigh. Better now than when it gets late, then. With a shake of your head, you pick a destination and start moving.

You’re conscious of your surroundings as you keep one hand on the bow and make your way across the square. Dry, fiery leaves crunch under your boots, being the only sound you pick up. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, either. The same old abandoned stores seem to look down at you, their busted windows moaning in the wind. But, right then, something jabs at your gut. It's a silent alert to a threat you can't see.

Damnit. You better pick up the pace.

As soon as you make a turn to the left, spying the pizza place you used to visit, you freeze. Walkers, maybe 10 of them, whimper and try to get past the debris to reach something inside a pharmacy.

How could you not notice them earlier? They’re not a quiet horde, and the awful stench is not something you should have missed either. Have you been that lost in your nostalgia?

Whatever happened, you don't have much time. If the undead are making that much effort to get around the rubble, there has to be someone inside. A fellow human being—hopefully, a nice one. Someone you can help.

Acting out of instincts, you drink in your surroundings. Having your back hastily pressed against a tree trunk is not ideal, but it's what comes to you. While you can't call yourself a strategy master, jumping right into action is not the right plan when someone else's life is in danger.

Mind racing, you know you need a better shooting spot now if you want to make a move. Drawing them out to an alley is not a totally bad idea either. They wouldn't be able to escape, and maybe then they could flee.

As soon as you found a perfect corner for that, the screech of old door hinges catches your attention. A second later, shattering glass.

Shit. They broke in.

With no more time to assess the situation, you quickly climb up a rotting picnic table. The zombies, some missing a limb, slowly drag their feet towards a man in a plaid, blue shirt.

He's petrified, head lashing from side to side, looking for a way out. You know very well there is none, and soon enough it will be too late. He’ll be just at reach for those disgusting, putrid fingers. If they get a bite in, it's over for you, and it's over for him.

That’s when you take the stupidest decision of your life.

Screaming.

“YO, YOU POINTLESS MEAT SACK! WHY DON’T YOU LOOK OVER HERE?”

The boy might just get whiplash from how fast his eyes find yours. His are dark and desperate, but there is something else to them—to him. Something you will never find it in you to explain.

It could have been the way the stares right at your soul, or how his face displays every emotion from relief to terror. You could even say it was how his knees buckled under his weight or his fluttering hair in the wind. You can blame your reaction on a lot of things, but none of them startles you as much as yourself.

A cold hand grasps at your heart, squeezing it tightly in your chest. Blood drains from your face, and your frame shakes in the wind. You know this sensation all too well to have doubts, although it is what you swore never to feel again. Fear. Not for yourself, no, even when the undead start walking towards you instead. You don't—can't— care enough about your life, and you know it. It is all for him, the beautiful stranger you are going to save.

The first two arrows find their aim, speeding right through the undead’s skulls, but something shifts in your arms. The rest of your arrows now seem to swerve a bit to the sides, lodging themselves on necks or shoulders. In other words, not where they are supposed to.

Oh, how much you hate that the walkers will only die if you damage their brains.

“Annoying bastards, I swear—”

Falling into a state of near panic, you drop to the floor unceremoniously and race to the horde. If your bow won't do the trick, your other weapons will.

Momentarily thankful for their lack of agility, you pull out the knives hidden on the sides of your shoes. In a flurry of drive, you slash and stab everything around you. While throwing some hand-to-hand-combat here and there, your eyes start to burn. The walkers smell even worse from up close, you bitterly recall from past encounters. It's one of the things that make fighting harder—the urge to run away from them at every second.

The more daring among them clutch at your clothes, keeping your movement limited, but you manage to cut off their hands. The slick sound it makes is enough to make bile rise up your throat, but you swallow it back.

“C’mon, Y/N”, you pant, kicking what had once been an adult woman in the chest to send her down to the asphalt. “You’ve had tougher battles than this." With a breath as deep as you can manage, your knife cuts at another zombie.

It is true, you know. It's impossible to count the times you’ve been up against groups of 20 or more. You were always fine. Right now, though, wincing from multiple wounds scattered around your skin, you question how the hell did you do it.

Hurriedly glancing to your right, you notice 5 are already dead—well, dead-er than they had previously been. The lady you kicked struggles to get up, giving you a gap to spin and bury your knife into her scalp. She goes limp right away, and you stare. 4 more to go.

Just as you retrieve your blade and turn to face the other walkers, something bites your dominant hand. Hard.

With your knife tumbling down in a metallic clunk, fire shoots up your arm. The first thing you do is wiggle your hand back and forth. Some part of you thinks it was going to let go like it’s some sort of dog. You realize you were wrong when darkened saliva flows into the cuts, your mind going blank with agony.

You figure it was one of the undead you had pushed down before, only to lose sight of him later. And, yes, wiggling was a poor attempt at getting him to drop you, but you did it out of pure alarm. Fear is gradually taking over you now, freezing cold and impossible to fight.

With only your non-dominant hand free, you sloppily sink your blade down however many times it takes for the corpse to stop moving. The pain you feel is sharp, travelling through your veins like blue fire. As his grip slackens, the body slumps to the ground, a wet thud echoing. Despite the agony that threatens to blind you, you're aware of the other 3 walkers you have yet to take down.

One is easy enough, with an arrow embedded deep on one side of her neck, and another coming down on her brow bone. Repugnance swirls in your gut, and you have to look away. Their skulls are incredibly soft.

Your remaining enemies pace at either side of you, circling you with dead eyes and faltering strides. You keep your wounded hand close to you while the other clutches the leather grip of your weapon. It's time to put an end to this.

Choosing to go for the right first, you slash at his chest, grimacing at the black blood that oozes. It taints his shredded red hoodie and sprinkles at your front. The shudders that course through you in silent rage give you the strength to finish it off.

In one clean, powerful strike, your knife goes through an eyeball, but he collapses a bit too fast. You can't recover your blade.

Having no weapons on your hands, even for a second, is critical. The walkers are borderline sluggish, but it was easy to lose track of them: your severed hand was proof.

To your relief—or mild disgust—, hasty strides bounce at the pavement behind you, followed by heavy thuds on a slimy surface. It takes no more than 3 seconds for the last body to tumble by your feet, face down.

It's only then you see the skull, or better, what is left of it. Blood and brain flow over a gaping crack, done by something sharp. You could guess it was the heavy, black rock that you find before you, held in the hands of the man you are supposed to be saving.

From there, you realize his medium length hair is a faded blue, with dark brown at the roots. A grey university hoodie hugs his slim figure under the plaids, matching his cargo pants and busted sneakers. His face is all sharp angles and soft edges, but his gaze is nothing short of magnetic.

Wide, chocolate eyes glare at the body with such horror your own throat tightens. Then, with no words shared, he lets go of the rock and stumbles back like he cannot believe what he did. Your own eyes divert to the cloudless sky, hearing him vomiting on the concrete in a matter of seconds. Poor dude.

Pity, combined with the reminiscents of adrenaline and dread, settle in you. Your thoughts boil down to one small detail: the Sun is setting.

The throbbing on your hand momentarily vanishes, lost in the memory of Taeyong very clearly telling you to be back before dawn. Aside from that, the memory of what you did to get the walkers' attention still burns at your mind. That goddamned shout. Having a sense of hearing as acute as they did, you are sure any other zombies around you are coming your way.

You have fucked up big time.

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final notes: ik chapter one wasn’t all that exciting but i’m hoping this one is better wheeze two more to come, stay tuned <3

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

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'Back to work' : New chapter of "Redemption of a Spirit in a Cold War' is out !

'Back to work'

Chapter Summary : Bell is finally recovering from her passing out after 3 days in bed before getting her first lead on Perseus....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

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After Mason & Woods left the dorm to leave me alone as I requested, I wanted to get up and join the others but unfortunately, I was still feeling sick even if I took the aspirin and my legs were hurting so much that moving them just by an little inch was impossible to do for me. It was feeling like someone just shot my kneecaps. I could just move my upper body without hurting myself and because of my legs, I was forced to stay on that bed for an undetermined time while the others are at work in the room just next to me.

Park came to me and I explained my case, saying that I wasn't feeling okay at all and she adviced me to stay in bed to rest a lot for the moment. She gave me back my backpack that I left near her desk, allowing me to write down in my book the different memories I have gotten back except the fake one and after that, she will come back time to time to see how I was feeling and to give me either something to drink or to eat.

When the night came, I was surprised when only Park came to have a sleep in the dorm and the reasons of it was, according to her, that the others preferred to give me some rest and some lonely moments for me. She decided to stay next to me in case of something wrong happened to me and I was grateful for that even if I wasn't really understanding why the others wouldn't go in here to take a sleep because it wasn't going to disturb me.

During 3 days, it was getting the usual for me : waking up in the bed, move a little to avoid staying motionless, drink and eat something, trying to think of a memory to come back and listen to some relaxing music. That was how my days were going now except with the fact that I wasn't able to catch a single memory for 3 days as my state weren't in shape to think right. I was getting better during the fourth day and I could feel my legs moving again but I preferred to take a last day in bed before I could finally walking again.....and a little sleep wasn't going to hurt me....

I wasn't sleeping so well that night, something was irritating me a lot and because of that, I was moving a lot in the bed like if I was getting a nightmare in my head, something I couldn't see but it was something very bad. I was also sweating a lot as it was very hot in the room and each second, I was getting worst and worst.....hearing the clock was stressing me a lot...tick.....tack....tick....tack....

Suddenly, I started to talk alone in my sleep, it was about Freya and it was mainly pleads about saving her and trying the best to do it but my voice.....my moves was saying to me that it was just getting worst and then I woke up with an start.

"Freya !" I almost screamed, getting the blankets off me, staying on the bed and my arms were shaking a damn lot "Freya !" This time, I screamed loudly, my voice breaking itself because of it before I started to cry in my bed and then, I started to hear some footsteps outside the room like if someone was running until the door opened.

"Yirina !" It was Freya, worried as help, wearing her casual clothes, she turned on the lights of the room before she walk to get to me

"Freya...." I started before I cut myself, seeing her getting next to me and still crying.

"I'm here, Yiri....I'm here." She put her arms around me to recomfort me but I was still in tears. "Bad dreams ?" She asked normally

"I thought....I thought to have lost you." I replied, getting my arms around too, wanting to feel her close to me "I relived the day I saved you from the NIS but....here....I wasn't able to do it."

"It's okay, I'm here." She repeated again, giving me some taps in the back with her hands while her head was on my shoulder "You saved me, remember ?" She tried to recomfort me, wanting me to remember that she was alive....and in her arms.

"Yes but....." I started, taking a deep breath

"But ?" Freya said, concerned, withdrawing her from me, her hands still on my shoulders

"But I don't want to lose you." I responded, catching my breath from all the stress I got and closing my eyes as I get my arms around her again. "I can't...lose you." She was looking confused before she smiled

"I don't want to lose you either." She said in a good voice

"Can you.."

"Yes." She replied, cutting me, having guessed my question in advance "I will." She then moved to get inside my bed alongside me, getting her arms around my chest as I was looking outside of a window, admiring the snow falling. "How do you feel ?" She asked

"Good...with you." I grinned a little from it as I know that she was there for me. I could feel her getting her grab around me more stronger like if she was meaning her words,

"I will never lose you, Yiri."

Another memory with Freya, another one showing me how close I was with her, she was there to recomfort me in case and apparently, those types of events were getting frequent in these days inside Perseus group. Back in these days, I was already getting bad and the memories I got back make me realize how bad I was feeling when I was an Perseus agent. Making bad things wasn't helping me to get well and I hope I can remedy to this.

When I woke up, opening my eyes, I thought at first I was still in my memory since I was feeling someone's arms around my chest before I realized that it was Park herself behind me, on an bed. I thought that it was strange since she was using the bed at my right but having her arms around me recomforted me a lot. She then woke up, feeling that I was awake, giving me a little kiss on the forehead before heading to the main room to give me a coffee with something to eat.

I redressed myself into the bed, finally moving my legs and for the first time in 4 days, they were not hurting anymore. I took my book and start to write down the memory I had in my head before I could start at least to draw Freya's face in the book. I did make Zasha's face the first day when I woke up but I never had a chance to make Freya so it was time for me to do it. It took me 5 minutes to draw it and it was perfect. I was so focused that when I finished the drawing, I saw Park standing next to me with an cup of coffee and a cake.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I started, apologizing to not have seen her arrive before I took what she was handing to me, putting the book on the nightstand "Didn't hear you." She smiled before she sat down on the bed she used,

"That's okay." She said as she was fully seated and when I took a sip from the cup.

"Been busy to draw something." I added, giving a look to the book.

"Oh, what did you draw ?" She asked, starting to lean to get the book in her hands before looking at me with an questioning face, maybe wanting to know if she can read the book.

"You can, you have the honors." I guessed and she smiled as she could finally take the book in hands and start seeing what I wrote & draw.

"Is that Freya ?" She pointed the drawing to me, I nodded "She's looking cute."

"I wanted to draw her face if it can help me to know more about her." I told her, saying the truth as drawing Zasha's face allowed me to be able to remember more memories about them. She put the book back on the nightstand, looking worried,

"I...I hear you this night, panicking and calling for Freya." She breathed, joining her hands together "I decided that it was better if I joined you to feel better."

"I'm sorry." I excused myself

"Don't need to be like that." She grinned a little before she got her left hand next to me. "I'm here, next to you and you know that I will never let you down." I smiled as we both joined our hands together

"You're sounding like Freya." I exclaimed with my smile, making her blush "Always there for me." I added....before my smile disappeared "And now, I want to know where is she. "

"I know and I will be there at your side." She moved away from the bed, getting sit next to me "I tried to have some informations about Freya in the NIS."

"And ?"

"They remembered her but her records...." She took a deep breath "Her records was erased by them since a long time, can't find anything about her life. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I said, my voice cracking in the middle of it, feeling bad that I can't know more about Freya "And about Zasha ?"

"Zasha ?" She started, looking away "Same thing for Freya, the KGB has erased their records, got the info by Belikov." I looked down, sad,

"My memories are the only things that can help me find them again...and maybe, save them from Perseus." I whispered to myself and I was right....my memories can only help me to know more about them.

"We will." She said, having heard me "About Perseus, we have something." She looked back at the door leading to the main room "And for that, I need you."

"Something to decypher ?" I asked, she nodded,

"A transmission we got early in the morning thanks to Sims." She breathed "If you want, I can bring you the transmission here and....."

"Don't worry." I grinned "My legs are just fine and I'm ready to work again." I then started to get up from the bed and it was feeling weird to stand up after all these days but at least, I wasn't going to fall back on the bed for a while.

Hopefully, Park allowed me to use a part of her clothes on me and I started to dress up while she was looking at me. When I was finished to put on the pants and then the shoes, I looked behind me to see Park....looking worried at the ground, her left hand on her right arm.

"Something's wrong ?" I asked

"It's just....." She started before looking back at me in the eyes "I'm happy to have you back." I smiled but she was still looking worried

"But, there's something ?" I repeated, getting myself worried

"It's better that.....we kept our relation a secret to everyone." I could see her holding back her tears before she sit back on the bed and I decided to join her, getting next to her.

"Hey, it's okay about that. I'm also....not willing to display to everyone our relation..." I joined her hands with mine "PDA is not my thing." I tried to joke but she wasn't laughing.

"The MI6....well, they are not very liking the agents who has....homosexual relationships." She looked at me, trying to not cry "They thought that they are posing as an threat to the national security and if they spotted one, the agent will be fired."

"Seriously ?" I was taken aback by learning that and now I was fearing the worst.

"Adler...one day...three years ago....when he discover that I was also like you, he wanted to blackmail me to stop our relation because if we didn't do it, he was going to tell them and I was going to get fired." I could see a tear coming from her right eye and I cleaned it up with difficulty, hoping that what she was saying wasn't going to go bad.

"But, we didn't stop right ?" I asked, having forgetten that part "Right ?" I repeated and she shook her head,

"No, what I created with you, I never wanted to break it." She replied, looking sure and taking a breath "Even with what the MI6 is saying, I don't want to break it." It was relieving me to hear that she wasn't going to stop our relation because of what the MI6 was thinking. Then, she put her hand on my chin "I just need you."

"I need you too." I added before we both leaned forwards towards each other to kiss on our lips.....a kiss that was so recomforting and that lasted at least 2 minutes as we almost got in bed to continue further but we decided to focus back on the situation.

After we finished, we made a quick hug to each other before we got up from the bed and walking to get to the main room, ready for me to get to work on the lead they have found on Perseus. I wanted to join my hands with her but our previous discussion showed that it was better for us to keep our relation a secret to everyone else including the MI6 even if Adler was the only one aware of it but....him, I don't need a advice from him about how I do my life. That's something I was willing to tell him at his face but not now.

We both arrived at the same time in the main room, everyone was getting at work at their respectives workplaces including Adler who when he saw me arrive, start to look at me....and he wasn't going to move his eyes away from me. Focus on something else, Yirina, I told to myself before Park showed me the way to her desk as she wanted my help for the lead they have found. I looked at the transmission Sims was able to get and once I had a piece of paper in hand and a pen, I started to work on it.

As I was checking the transmission, I started to realized that it was the same code that Perseus was using in 1981 and thanks for that, I will be able to decrypt that in less time since I had the old work back from my first days in the safehouse to help me thanks to Park who were able to give me what I did three years ago.

"I found something." I whispered, getting Park's attention on me after more than 20 minutes on trying to decrypt the transmission

"What did you find ?" She asked, getting her seat next to me.

"That transmission is talking about a Perseus warehouse used for arms trafficking." I then pointed with the pen each decrypted "And apparently, it's in West-Berlin."

"So, Perseus has an warehouse in West-Berlin...." She looked at it with wide eyes "We heard rumors of it days ago but we had nothing concrete and now, you gave me a proof that it's real." She looked back at me with a proud smile "Do you know where it is exactly in the city ?"

"Well, it's saying that the warehouse was located somewhere in the city's outskirts and I think that there aren't a lot of warehouses in the outskirts." I exclaimed before I had an bad impression inside of me, like if someone was observing me and when I looked around, I could see Adler....still looking at me. "Do you have a problem ?" I asked him in an harsh voice

"Yeah." He replied before getting up from his chair, pointing me with his hand "You !" He added, raising an eyebrow.

"What ? You didn't had enough days ago ?" I said, clenching my fists and getting up from my seat before I decided to face him as Park was following me up close in case.

"You should have died." He told me at my face....be calm, Yiri !

"I should have lived and you know that very well." I almost poked him at his chest before I retract myself from doing that "Perseus's threat could have be done if I was still around." I sniffed, keeping my cool as he was smoking his cigarette"But no, you were stupid enough to do what the CIA wanted to do." Then, he was clenching his fists after I said 'stupid.'

"Don't call me stupid, kid !" He exclaimed, almost angered

"Don't call me kid." I ordered to him, did he still see me as a kid ? "I'm not the same person that were your 'best-friend from Vietnam' 3 years ago."

"Oh, 'Bell', can you just behave well in front of your boss ?" He smirked at my face and I was ready to get closer to him until Park decided to get between.

"Ok, that is enough." She said, getting her both arms between me & Adler as I realized that everyone was looking at us and witnessing the scene. She looked at Adler with deadly eyes "For the last time, she's not Bell anymore." She clarified before Adler almost laughed to her face

"Come on, who's telling you that we can really trust her ?" He added, looking at me "Who's saying that she's not playing everyone around ?" He then poked Park "Who's telling you that she don't play you around ?" He said, silently, only making it listenable from me & Park

"I told the truth 3 years ago !" I admitted "I brought you to Solovetsky !" I added, getting angry more and more "Those questions, ask it to yourselves."

"Please, Yirina, calm down." Park started, giving a little smile, hoping to calm me down "She found something about the transmission Sims got : Perseus has an warehouse in the city, used for arms trafficking."

"Pfff, it's just rumors." Adler was sounding annoyed "And for me, she's still 'Bell' !"

"Tell it one more time...." Park got closer to him, getting her fist ready "And I'm breaking your stupid jaw off you." She then withdrawed herself from me & Adler and I stepped back as she was getting next to the dashboard "You need to know now that Yirina is under my responsability and that's she no longer your property....and even, she's not an object at all, she's an human being." Adler rolled his eyes on the ceilling at hearing that

"And where the safehouse at ?" Mason said, intervening in the discussion

"In the city's outskirts." I replied, looking at him. "It will be in no time until we found it out where exactly it is."

"I will prepare the equipment to scout out the places that can be suspicious, the others, get yourself up too." Park ordered before she decided to head to the armory of the safehouse, leaving the others to prepare themselves and me.....going back at her desk because I had nothing to prepare...except just an M1911. When I joined the desk, I could see that Woods came by.

"Hey, you're okay, Yirina ?" He asked curious, I nodded

"Think that it's going to be like that with Adler everyday now." I scoffed around, trying to not think negatively about what just happened

"At least, you got lucky to have Park on your side and ours too." He exclaimed before getting me a friendly tap on the back of the shoulder, giving me an smile. "I can say something....

.....you're an lucky girl, Yirina Grigoriev !"

#black ops cold war #bocw #call of duty cold war #cod cw #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war #fanfic #helen park #fem!bell

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 1)

A/n: I'm so sorry but I DESPERATELY needed to get this off my chest before I exploded because I have absolutely NO self control.

I made a playlist

Word Count: 5000+

MASTERLIST

Come in sets of two...

Y/n was an oddball.

At least that's what his parents said- a lot.

"You're such an oddball."

It seemed that they meant it endearingly, but the words stuck with Y/n much more than they probably should have. And maybe that was less because of his parents or even his brother and more because of the media and the other kids that treated him very differently than they usually treated other people.

It probably didn't help that he was a Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute golden boy. He was responsible, driven, intelligent. He was a staple for Boys Going Somewhere. A face to an idea that everyone absolutely adored. It was known very well that Bruce was going to be the successor to Wayne Enterprises- even though Y/n was two years older. Bruce was good to the core, with a wide smile but a certain professionalism that most adults didn't ever master.He was level headed and figured things out very easily. His parents were incredibly proud of him and held him very dearly, and it showed.

Y/n wasn't anything like him. He preferred staying up late and watching the stars or the sun set and then rise again, compared to understanding anything about business. He was somewhat of an artist. He had notebooks full of drawings and his room was covered with thumbtacked paintings he'd put on his wall with pride, even though most of them were what he was known for: people, animals, or objects that he'd fixated on long enough to paint them... except that they were often multiple things in one painting, and they were all mashed together in a rather alarming sight. He walked around with paint in his hair and on his clothes, his eyes bright and shining and his energy completely uncontained. He had no sense of self control or when to be quiet or calm. Most often he wasn't even found at home, as he went to school and then hung out with friends he'd made on the streets.

It was instantly incredibly obvious the drastic difference between the two boys, and people had been bidding on which one would succeed and which one would flop the very first second Bruce had been born. Every bet was on Bruce making it.

Despite everything, Y/n and Bruce got along very well. Y/n was rather emotional and got upset very quickly when he was ignored, which worked quite nicely with Bruce's curiosity. Y/n could go on for hours about the same thing and Bruce would listen. Bruce could ask questions about one painting for just as long and Y/n would eagerly answer each one, going into as much detail as possible. Y/n pulled Bruce out of his comfort zone and gave him a little fun outside of the expectations that were constantly pressing down on him. Likewise, Bruce took up the mantle and allowed Y/n the complete freedom to be himself and be appreciated for it.

Even the boys' parents had a pretty steady relationship with Y/n. They found him to be a little much, but with Bruce leaving them reassured that their company would be in a pair of capable hands, they were perfectly fine with letting Y/n go absolutely wild. As log as he was safe and everything he did was legal. They might live in Gotham, but the Waynes were good people and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

Overall, they were a very happy family.

Everything changed the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot dead on a way home from a movie they'd taken Bruce to.

It had been a night out like any other. Y/n stayed home as usual- it was the only time he could turn his music all the way up and completely lose himself in whatever he wanted to. The others didn't mind. It let Y/n blow off steam and made him much calmer for a while; in addition, they had a night out together and got to bond with Bruce. Sometimes they'd take just Y/n, and sometimes Y/n and Bruce would go out together without their parents, but most of the time it was Thomas and Martha and Bruce, and each Wayne was okay with that.

Y/n was staring at a half painted canvas, eyes wide and fingers trailing the path of his lips. He was loving the loudness and the thumping of the beat under his feet. Like it was in his blood. He smiled, raising the paintbrush.

The door busted open. "Y/N!"

Y/n spun around, startled. In the sharp movement, he knocked over a tiny bowl full of paint. Alfred reached over, turning the music off. "Your parents were shot and killed. Bruce is home early." Red paint dripped down the easel and over Y/n's shoes as the words tried to sink in but failed.It was like looking at something see through or invisible. Like feeling the breeze and wishing to catch it, but never able to close your fingers around empty air. Y/n just couldn't comprehend what Alfred was saying. Sensing his shock, Alfred moved closer. His voice was softer when he repeated, "Y/n. Bruce needs you. He won't admit it, but I can't help him lone.He won;t even admit he needs help. He might open up to you."

"No," Y/n choked out. Martha Wayne was far too kind and gentle. She was warmth and safety incarnate. Something so good and bright wasn't allowed to fade. Like yellow paint,or the sun. She always came back in the morning Always. And Thomas Wayne was... unbreakable. Unshakable. Impossible to even faze, let alone kill. He was unbeatable. Nothing could kill him. He'd live forever. Or, at the very least, go out at his own time when he was completely sure he was ready to. "No."

"Yes," Alfred insisted, shaking Y/n's shoulders violently. Y/n flinched. "Please-"

Without another word, Y/n pushed away from Alfred and sped to Bruce's room. He didn't even knock. Bruce was sitting on his bed, his eyes haunted and his lips resting in a soft frown. His hands were in his lap as he perched on the edge of the bed like he was planning to run any second, but he also seemed cemented in place as if he couldn't go anywhere even if he wanted to. He was scary still, and as his eyes slowly moved from the floor to meet Y/n's gaze, the older Wayne shivered at the darkness in his gaze. "Bruce?"

Bruce nodded stiffly in forced greeting. "Y/n."

Y/n bit his lip. Bruce's gaze fell to Y/n's feet and widened, his hands tightening on his knees. Y/n looked down to see the red paint still on his shoe, beginning to dry, and immediately felt sick. "So-" he cut off, his throat burning like he'd swallowed acid."So they're really-"

"Yeah," Bruce interrupted.

"You were there."

"Yeah."

Silence fell like a piano from a fifth story building. Even when the silence left, the feeling didn't. Both boys were suddenly being crushed under the weight of a ginormous object neither of them could see let alone explain or find the strength to remove. It stayed through the funeral, and onward. It manifested differently for each boy.

Bruce began to dig into his parents' murder, sifting through file after file, night after night. He got little sleep and ate even less often. At least he wasn't hurting himself anymore. That he had done a lot right before Alfred, Y/n, and Jim Gordon had all teamed up to knock him out of it.

Y/n was thrown into the world of business. He was torn away from everything he cared about. His freedom and dreams were stolen ad he was forced to clean up and get into a suit and start taking care of the family company- at least until Bruce was ready. In a few months he lost not only the things he enjoyed and his parents, but also his friends and the easy going way of life. He was beaten down and forced to be calm and collected. He was taught how to not deal with emotions like real men do and handle business that needed to get taken care of. He wasn't a person anymore. He was a tool.

It was unbearable for Bruce. He was losing all of his family in one go and as he tried to fight to make sense of it or keep anything of his old life, people kept trying to knock him down a peg and remind him that he was a child. Even though Y/n, barely 14, was apparently old enough to have the world on his shoulders when he was completely and totally not able to handle it in any way. It was supposed to be Bruce's job.

Finally he managed to prove his capabilities, but not in time to save Y/n. He had been rung out by the press and pushed to the brink and then over by the people at Wayne Enterprises. When he got his free time back, he didn't spend it watching the stars or the sun rise and fall. He didn't spend it painting dogs and lamps. He didn't spend it doodling and ranting to Bruce about all the things he found wonderful about the world. He spent each and every second he had locked in his room, painting.

The colors of each work began to get darker, the themes more twisted. They got better as he fixated on one thing only... unfortunately, that thing was death.

Y/n was spiraling. He didn't take care of himself and sometimes didn't come out of his room for days. Bruce tried to get through to him, but it seemed that something really bad had happened while everyone had expected him to be in charge. The thing was, there were no hints about it and of course no one at the company would fess up about anything. Y/n wouldn't talk about it. Anytime anyone even mentioned Wayne Enterprises, he would pull away and become unresponsive.

Then the Maniax began wreaking havoc.

Y/n's focus suddenly changed. He wasn't fascinated per say by the horrible things going wrong, but more the people that were committing the heinous acts. One day Bruce finally got him to talk about it, and all Y/n had to say was, "I mean, who does that? Who goes around just killing people like it doesn't mean anything? For no reason? Look at the redhead- he shoots one of his own guys for no reason- Look, right there. What kind of mental state would someone have to be in to be so flippant about taking a life?"

The obsession with the Maniax was soon followed by an obsession of killers in general. He was found constantly reading history books about some of the world's worst killers. Then, about Gotham's worst killers specifically.

That was why Bruce went to him when he began to get involved with that same redhead that had set Y/n down this path in the very beginning. "What do you think drives him? I mean, why do what he does?" Bruce asked his brother one day. It had been quite a while since they'd sat down and talked like this. When Bruce would ask questions about something Y/n fixated on and Y/n answered with pure eagerness. This had been the first time the information had been useful or had a realistic application, and it was upsetting.

"Probably some mental disorders. Perhaps some childhood trauma. He's probably immensely desensitized..." He paused. "Jerome Velaska is actually quite odd. He's probably just psychotic, with some serious abandonment issues and a sort of god complex. He wants to be seen and known and craves endless adoration and attention. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and doesn't have the patience or tolerance for anything else. That's why he acts out- it's like he has the mind of a child. He didn't get his way and now he's going to pitch a fit and chuck his toys. His toys being people and the fit being murder."

Bruce swallowed. "That's demented."

"Hm?" Y/n hummed. He blinked then forced himself to nod. He had zoned out and not blinked to bring himself back to the present. "Yeah. He's totally messed up."

Bruce tried not to ask Y/n about Jerome again after that. There had been a strange light in his eyes. A dangerous interest that made Bruce... nervous.

Everything came to a climatic bang when Alfred took the two brothers out to a charity banquet held in honor of a children's hospital. He'd only managed to get Y/n out because he'd been more energetic recently. More in a good mood. A little more like himself. In favor of seeing Y/n be so much like he used to, neither Alfred nor Bruce questioned it.

Boy did they wish they had though.

The night was seeming to pan out rather dull until the Magician came out. Y/n loved Magicians. He always had. He found their skill to pull off even the most obvious tricks was rather impressive. So when the Magician on stage asked for a volunteer and Bruce was chosen, Y/n was a little disheartened.

Bruce, however, seemed that he would rather do anything else. He had been nagging to leave anyway. Y/n stepped forward. "I can go up for you if you want," he offered.

The woman smiled and on stage, the Magician announced, "Ah yes! Just as well, just as well. Please, join us." The woman held out her hand for Y/n and he took it immediately.

Gotham hadn't seen Y/n in a very long time. People tittered and clapped and Y/n felt nervous. He hadn't been in front of a crowd since-

No, he wouldn't think about that. Tonight it was just some good fun and he'd be okay with that. Wasn't he allowed to have fun every once in a while?

The Magician greeted Y/n then opened a box, motioning for him to get in. He did, with a bounce in his step and excitement in his eyes. The box lid closed over top Y/n and the slats were put in place. It was the classic "sawed in half" trick. Y/n was immediately put off though. It would ruin the magic if an audience member did the trick. The assistant always did this trick, because it required a lot of trick of the eye to work. This way, he'd just get cut in-

Y/n's eyes went wide. The Magician above him smiled deviously.

"Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" Suddenly Y/n's body went cold. He knew that voice. Had heard it again and again and again on tv. He had seen that exact smile accompanying it. He was torn between the horror of the very real possibility of death at any second, and awe at finally meeting the man he'd been unable to get out of his head for the last significant amount of time. Since the whole bus full of high schoolers had almost been set on fire and that soon-to-be familiar face was all over the screen during the news broadcast about it. That face that had been and would be on every news broadcast for quite sometime. The Magician hummed, raising his eyebrows, and Y/n swallowed.

"Y/n," he said. There was no point now. He was trapped and at this man's mercy. What could he do? Cry for help? The most anyone would do is laugh it off, even if he could manage to get the lump out of his throat and get any coherent message across. Plus, something far more demanding kept him silent.

An extremely dangerous sense of curiosity.

If he was going to die tonight anyway, he might as well take his last moments to see what Jerome Valeska was like up close.

"Y/n," the not-magician repeated, musing over the name. "Well, Y/n, this won't hurt a bit." He clanged the two large saws together and Y/n felt breathless. What was he doing?! This was absolute madness! "Is there a doctor in the house?" The crowd laughed. The crowd LAUGHED. Of course they laughed. They always laughed. No one cared about Y/n Wayne.

Suddenly Alfred's voice sounded out, rather panicked. Y/n looked over, surprised. Of all people, Y/n didn't think it would have been Alfred who would have intervened. Alfred had been much too wrapped up in taking care of Bruce. Such as everyone was. Despite that, it was him to stumbled out, "Just- wait- excuse--" He held up a hand, everything going quiet and still as he tripped forward. "Just wait, wait, wait one second."

Jerome didn't wait.

The saw came down.

To his own shock, Y/n was fine.

The assistant rolled away his lower half and then returned it just in time for Jerome to lean close and whisper, "Give em a wave." Y/n looked directly into his eyes and his smile wavered. They were a pretty color. Brown, littered with slight blues and green that came alive under the stage lighting.

"I know who you are." The words wouldn't have been heard by anyone else other than Jerome- even if it wasn't for the clapping. Jerome froze, but Y/n didn't wait. He stood, waved to the audience to show he was alright, and then allowed the assistant to take him back to his place next to Bruce and Alfred.

When Jerome spoke gain, his words seemed to be a little different. Y/n placed the emotion when he turned back around again and saw Jerome's eyes glued intently to Y/n. He wasn't blinking. "Some say Y/n here has a split personality." The audience laughed at the pun and then his voice lightened again as he moved onto his next trick. As he called up the mayor an the set up began, the assistant's mask fell off.

Y/n gasped. He knew that face too. Unmistakable. Barbara Keene. Of course. How did Y/n not see that far sooner?

"I should warn you," Jerome teased lightly. "No one is getting out of here tonight alive." The audience laughed and Y/n thought he would feel terror at the words. What was stopping him now? He could whisper to Bruce or Alfred. To that nice lady from before-

It was then that Y/n realized Lee Thompkins was gone.

Jerome flung a knife straight into the Mayor's gut and Bruce stepped forward, gasping in time with the crowd. Y/n was torn. Why was he torn?! This was simple! Stop this! Right? Surely he could do something.

And yet... he found he didn't want to. God what the hell was wrong with him?

The Mayor fell and people began panicking. The gun shot started and Y/n moved without thinking, slipping behind a curtain and out of sight. He began to move through the curtains until he was far enough fromAlfred not to be stopped, then he was ducking to make sure he didn't get shot- and he waited.

He saw Jerome and Barbara tie up Lee and then make a call. He spoke loudly- it wasn't hard to make out at least one side of the conversation. His demands didn't make sense. They didn't line up at all with his character. Why...?

His maniacal laughter suddenly cut off as he turned to face his newly terrified audience. The moment was interrupted, though, by a new voice. "Enough!" Y/n stepped out from hiding to get a better view, only to see a man he didn't know. That was a new experience on this night where Y/n seemed to be able to put a name to ever face in this room that mattered. "It's time for you to pack up your little sideshow and leave," the man continued. Jerome was still grinning. That didn't make sense either. Why didn't he seemed bummed that his fun was getting interrupted, or a little tentative around the new player he hadn't planned his game around? How had this guy even gotten in, with all the guards outside? It felt off. Y/n could sense it immediately. Even the man spoke like he was... reading lines.

And Jerome responded in the exact same way. Like he was in a show. Like he was acting.

The movements of the two men and the way they formed words seemed so out of place. Even the shot of the gun Barbara used... none of it seemed natural.

Without thinking, Y/n stepped forward. The small noise his steps made immediately caught Jerome's attention. His eyes light up, his smile relaxing to a much more natural place. This was Jerome. The change was impossible to miss for Y/n, who had been carefully studying him so long.

"You," Jerome called, pointing directly at Y/n for the first time tonight. This felt even more thrilling than when Bruce had been picked. Now there was no charade or manipulation. It was just Jerome and Y/n. "Come here." He held up a gun, obviously ready to threaten someone's life to get Y/n to obey, but he was already moving before the words could leave Jerome's mouth. "What a nice boy." Y/n should have been at least pretending to be phased, but he was far too caught up in analyzing Jerome that he didn't think about how his step was confident and unfaltering, taking him to Jerome without any hesitation. He didn't think about the expression on his face, but how it made Jerome specifically respond. By simply having an emotion other than fear, Y/n had caught Jerome's attention and was reveling in it. Jerome could see that too, and it seemed to entertain him even more.

"You just gonna stare at me all day?" Y/n whispered softly, trying not to let his lips twitch into a smirk. Was he... flirting? It felt like he was suddenly outside of his body, watching this train wreck happen, unsure of who was in control or why he was doing anything he was.

Jerome seemed to be absolutely loving it. "Stand here with me." His voice was soft as silk, near purring. Y/n moved to where he motioned and stayed silent. The problem with his new placement: everyone could see his reactions now, not just Jerome. It was time to start acting at the very least.

Turns out he didn't much need to.

Jerome was easily terrifying as he was charismatic.

Every time Y/n thought he had caught on to Jerome schtick, he did something that threw Y/n off completely again. It was all fun and games, playing at murder but then pulling out some joke shot that didn't really make any sense. Did he actually want to keep all of us hostage? Wasn't it enough to have a few? Bruce, me and Alfred because Bruce was Gotham's golden boy, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me or Alfred. Lee Thompkins because she was his bargaining chip. The four of us would be plenty enough of a bargaining chip, maybe a handful more just in case. Why spare everyone, if he really did like killing so much?

There was something to Jerome that really intrigued Y/n. He wondered what the maniac was really thinking. What really drove him to act this way. To take control of a whole room full of Gotham's richest of the most well meaning... only to ask for ridiculous, nonsensical demands and not kill a single one of us.

Again Y/n got that sense, like something else major was actually happening here.

Y/n was zoning out. Missing things. He couldn't focus on the act going. The show that had more layers than what was originally apparent. He missed the whole throw down with Barbara and Lee as well, but caught the gist: Barbara was apparently in love with JimGordon and fancied that they'd end up together. Lee was apparently getting in the way of that. Blah, blah, blah. Girl drama and psychopaths and romance and delusion. Barbara almost killed Lee. Jerome stopped her. So on and so forth.

Then, Jerome attention was on Y/n again all of a sudden, even though he'd been carefully ignoring the boy he'd called up on stage until that point. He grinned at Y/n, the knife he'd taken fromBarbara manifesting in Jerome's hand. The redhead used it more like a finger than a weapon. He ran the dull side of the back of the blade under Y/n's chin, the flipped it so the blade was pressed gently to Y/n's skin. "My favorite volunteer," he said slowly, stepping far too close for what should have been comfortable. "You know, I've seen you on TV."

"And I, you." He hadn't meant to respond, but it had slipped out before he could stop it.

Jerome's head tilted as he popped his chin in pride. "Well, of course. I was meant to be on the big screen. I made my own way. It was my choice to end up where everyone could see me." He took a deep breath in. "You, however... what a scandal." Suddenly Y/n couldn't breath. Jerome roared in giddy, insane laughter. "There he is!" He turned to the audience, motioning to the slight shake of Y/n's body and the sickly pale tint to his skin. "There's that fear! That fear or hate or disgust or whatever it is you all feel for me... except for you." He looked back at Y/n. "We're so similar, Y/n," he sighed. "I'm an orphan too, you know. I don't fear death either."

"You killed your parents," Y/n managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Jerome tilted his head back and forth. "Details, details." The knife was at Y/n's throat again. "You're no fun anymore, you know. Everyone stops being fun at some point. I will give you one thing: you lasted longer than most." The knife pressed further into Y/n's throat and he sucked in a sharp breath as it broke skin, a single drop of blood making a vibrant path down his pale skin.

Gun shots. Suddenly Jerome spun, pressing Y/n's back to his chest, moving the blade so Y/n's was a hostage instead of the focused on target. There was a bit of chaos in the crowd, and Y/n's eyes widened to see Alfred and Jim Gordon of all people mowing through Jerome's lackies. Jim turned his barrel toward Y/n and Jerome. "Let him go!" He shouted. Jerome's giggle rang right next to Y/n's ear. Whatever weird spell from before that had Y/n controlled and calm and still broke and he flinched back away from the blade. Unfortunately, that only brought him closer to Jerome. After a second Jim defeatedly announced, "I don't have a clean shot. Jerome shifted, obviously eager in his moment of victory.

"Stay calm, Y/n," Alfred eased. Bruce was shuffling, knowing it wouldn't help to rush in but having to use every bit of his self control to stop himself from doing just that. He couldn't lose Y/n too. His brother was part of the quickly dwindling family he still had left.

Jerome's breath sounded in Y/n's ear as he gritted his teeth, switching from plying a game to planning an escape. Of course he wanted to get out of here alive. "It seems like we've got ourselves in a bit of a pickle. "What do you say Sweetheart?" Jerome mumbled in his ear. He was twitching, rocking a little from foot to foot. "Why don't we boost our ratings, hm?" The knife moved from one side of Y/n's throat to the other, drawing the smallest line of blood. Y/n gasped, his body shaking in suddenly very real fear. He wondered if this is how his parents had felt, or if they'd died too fast to really be afraid of dying at all. "Smile." Jerome began his wild, broken chittering of a laugh again.

This was familiar. Jerome had been waiting all night to kill someone, and for whatever reason he hadn't. Unfortunately, that meant he was definitely not going to hesitate to now. Y/n closed his eyes, and echoing, "NO!" Coming from his younger brother before he was sure he was about to be enveloped by darkness.

"I said, enough." Jerome let go of Y/n in surprise and both boys turned, unsure where to move from here. Not knowing how to switch gears. There stood the man from earlier. Theo Galavant. Theo grabbed Jerome by the color and drove a knife into the side of his neck. Y/n made a weird, half-choking, half-squeaking sound as the blade made impact into flesh, the audience gasping behind him.

Y/n couldn't move. He fell backwards, tripping over his own feet and barely catching himself as he made his way off the stage and to the ground. Theo must have thought he was further, but he heard it. He heard what the man said next. "I know, I know, I know," he cooed as Jerome choked, dying. Y/n blinked, trying to clear his head. So many thoughts were swimming through it and his chest had begun to tighten and twist. He couldn't breathe. He could still hear though. "This isn't what we rehearsed. I'm so sorry Jerome. You have real talent! But no, you see, the plot thickens. Enter: the hero."

Something horrible settled into Y/n's stomach as Jerome spoke again, his voice weak and raspy. "You... said... I was... gonna be..." He died before the sentence could finish, and Y/n was running. Ramming into Bruce, the boys holding each other tightly as Alfred enveloped them both with his arms.

"It's over," Alfred reassured. "You're safe now, Y/n, it's okay."

The words sounded sincere and full of relief, but Y/n couldn't shake that things were far from over. In fact, he was sure they'd only just begun.

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #bruce wayne #gotham #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader #male reader #jerome valeska x male reader #joker x male reader

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blushing-starker · 4 years

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the incredible @puppypeter (check out their blog, it's amazing) asked for a soft, ageing starker and my heart cracked in two cuz I live for this dynamic. Can you tell I'm living for the sake of moodboards?

He loves Tony, he really does. But if the so called genius forgets his reading glasses one more time, Peter will lovingly shout at him. Because he had covered the entire lab in neon post it notes, programmed an alarm in each A.I and explicitly reminded Tony every day before the road trip. They were going to Europe and that implied museums and fancy menus and speeches and glasses so Tony wouldn't be squinting at tiny words whenever he was curious about something. But Peter was 99.999999% sure his boyfriend would accidentally forget to pack his things just so he could show the world Tony Stark was not ageing, no sir. Which is why Karen and Friday had helped Peter buy and safe guard thirty pairs of glasses in their luggage.

By the fourth day, they were all gone. Peter is seconds away from scolding Tony because this was important, it has to do with his health, dammit, when he turns around and there's a cat. His boyfriend is cooing at the feline, scratching beneath a furry chin and grinning when the cat begins pawing at the last pair of glasses they have. Does his heart melt at the sight? Yes. Was he still angry? Absolutely. Will he ask Tony how the hell he found a cat in the jet hangar? No. They've been together for eight months, Peter's used to animals just showing up and seeking Tony out.

"No." A hurt look is aimed at him and he won't laugh, he can't surrender even if the cat copies Tony's face and gives the most pitiful meow Peter has heard in eighteen years.

"But it's all alone here, Peter. And look, it's cute like you." It is a pretty cat, fur an almost identical shade to Tony's hair and the fluffiest tail a cat could posses. That's not the point though, is it?

"It could belong to someone in the area or have kittens. We can't just take them, Tony. And a cat is a responsibility. It's not like having DUM-E or Karen. You have to feed the cat, vaccinate them, pet them, clean them and not forget them in a hotel five cities away. I won't be at the house every day to remind you to look after yourself and a cat. "

The billionaire lights up and Peter knows he'll have a headache by the end of this.

It's been amazing to travel all over Europe, he's enjoyed exploring new places with Tony. After months of rising crime, overwhelming homework and hungry rivals choking the life out of them, a vacation was desperately needed. He's not in the mood to fight, but he will if he has to. Peter knows Tony is getting older and he doesn't care. Sure, he cares about his health and making Tony go to monthly check ups and take his vitamins and having his glasses so he could be safe and drive properly and-

Peter cares about his well being. Always. But he doesn't care that Tony's getting older and it's more obvious now than a year ago. There are wrinkles around teasing eyes and sexy graying temples and creaking joints, but that does not mean Peter loves this ridiculous man in front of him any less. He finds Tony gorgeous, always has and always will. It's not just about his body, it's Tony himself that's so attractive. And yeah, he also finds a silver fox Tony really fucking hot. He's 21, he can ogle whoever he wants.

Right now, however, he's staring Tony down.

It's not that he doesn't want to take in every stray and care for them. It's that he can't be sure Tony will remember to act accordingly.

"I asked around and apparently she's already been vaccinated and sterilized by the manager. No one's taken her home yet because most people have allergic family members. She just showed up a few days ago. You have to know that's weird. This cat appears the week we get here and she's already had her shots. What are the chances she'd strut out and start purring at me? Come on, Pete. The universe wants me to take this cat home."

His eyebrow twitches. He's sure of it when Tony glances up and sets his shoulders back. Every Avenger knew to prepare for a fight when Peter's face moved that way. This man would kill him. He's fucking certain he won't live to twenty-five.

"You forgot your glasses in every city we've been to. How am I supposed to let you take a cat with us? "

"I knew you'd have back ups," the blood rushes to his head and the cat snuggles closer to Tony, ears flattening when Peter's lip curls, "and anyway, I won't forget two cats in a hotel because they meow and move. How could I forget when they're alive and not something as small as reading glasses?"

Distantly, he's pleased. Happy with the knowledge that his boyfriend knows how to read him like a book. It's why they're great together, villain or no villain around to threaten their lives. That's something he'll preen over later while calling Ned. Now he smiles, teeth bared and eyes cold.

"Did you say two cats? Because I swear I'll leave you here, Tony. I've got Karen and a car and lots of sightseeing to do. If there's another cat, I will drive away and call Pepper to pick you up. And you know how she gets when you make her travel half way around the world, Tony. I will finish this trip. If you wanna keep the cats, then keep them. Here in a hotel, practicing how to care for them while I do what I wanted to do with you. Or you can send them to the house with someone else and join me. I know you, you're gonna end up with cats in the house. But I am not babysitting two cats while worrying about you too. I love you, I do. I won't do it, Tony."

His heart would be destroyed if anything happened to those cats and Peter had no plans to cry during this trip. Something shifts in Tony's face and he sighs, defeated. A pout is forming rather quickly and Peter can't believe this is the same man that saved the universe. His boyfriend is a child. He's head over heels in love with a child and Peter knows it. Christ, he won't last two minutes angry if Tony keeps sulking like that. It hurts too much.

Hands that have used Infinity Stones are softly setting the cat down when Peter groans, rocks on his heels and mentally curses his parents in law for bringing an insanely ridiculous man into the world.

"Fine, keep the cats. But you are not losing those glasses and I better see you taking all your pills. Ok, Tony? I mean it, they are your responsibility and I don't want you leaving them in a hotel because you were too busy thinking about something else-"

Tony drops the cat, pounces at him and he's suddenly in the air, strong arms twirling him in a circle. It's the silliest thing they've done in their whole trip and they'd taken pictures with a shoe as a tripod.

Laughter bubbles up and Peter is helpless to stop the joy that washes over him at the sight of his grinning boyfriend. He really loves this man.

He wraps his own hands around Tony's face, draws him in and kisses the smile that's replaced a pout. They stay like that, Peter straddling Tony, lips intertwined and laughter slipping out every few seconds. The cat meows at them for attention and he thanks Maria and Howard Stark for such an insanely wonderful boyfriend.

(They keep the cats, finish the trip and Tony never loses a pair of glasses again. Then again, he never had.)

Sorry for the weird spacing, tumblr doesn't like me.

#starker #my moodboards #ironspider #peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #tony stark

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hoopdiddies · 5 years

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I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 4)

A/N: I was on vacay for a while and I had a hard time thinking the plot through but this could work. If you want to be tagged, just ask me uwu

Summary (for the entire series Ofc) : You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Word count: 2148

Tags: None

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. And some angst, yet again *sigh*

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Parallel to the nature of the grimace present on your face shrouded by the umbra of the umbrella, the thunderclouds become bleaker and unwelcoming, complimenting the harsh pour of the rain on the city. In your mind, it could just get worse.

You tighten your grasp on the stem of your umbrella, the pressure of your grip making the veins in your wrist visible. To think you were enthused to spill the news to him, only to end up feigning the real one because you couldn't bring yourself to accept what must be.

You know he loves you, he loves you so much. He tells you 24/7. But that love is purely limited to hugs, small arguments, spontaneous fits of laughter, gentle pats on the back and forehead kisses. Compared to the almost spiritual connection he has with his fiancee. You've known and been around him longer than you could remember and yet, you're always several steps behind.

Well how else does platonic love compare to something romantic and sexual?

You stop in your tracks just half way through the wet sidewalk and stare at your reflection on a puddle beneath you. The tears dripping from your cheeks making bigger ripples on the puddle in contrast to the ones made by the rain. You sniffle, wiping your eyes quickly with your sleeve.

You hear a faint ring from your pocket and pull out your phone, seeing Lucy's name flash on the screen. You swipe the answer button and go on walking along the moist pavements.

"Hey Luce!" You blurt to hide the cracks in your voice.

"Y/N! Where are you right now? I just got back from a photoshoot and I want to hang out with you!" She giggles through the line and you keep your eyes ahead.

"Well I'm walking back home-"

"In the rain? You could get sick!"

"Lucy, relax. I'm covered up."

She sighs in relief, chuckling at her little mistake. "Sorry there. But mind if I stop by at your place?"

You don't think twice before answering, feeling the need to have some company. "Of course. Hurry up, I'm almost home." You aren't though, you're a dozen blocks away from your destination but you kind of want her to be there just in time for you to...vent.

You hear an audible slam echo from the line, almost coming off as a car door slammed close. "I'm on the road, I'll see you, Y/N!" You hum in response, your mouth curving slightly to the side. "You too, Lucy. Drive safely."

She bids you adieu for the meantime and you pick up your pace along the streets, careful not to glide recklessly over moist surfaces. The rain is not going to lighten very soon, you're sure of it.

As soon as you step foot into your living room after drying off, you are welcomed by a laid-back version of Lucy seated on the couch with a can of Mountain Dew in hand. You chuckle softly at how mellow she's positioned during such a weather, even more so at her choice of beverage.

"You're late." She shakes her head at you, pretending to be upset.

You shrug out of your coat and drape it over your shoulder, trudging to her and crouching down to hug her. "I am so sorry I left almost too quickly last night though."

She pats your back, letting a 'tsk' slip past her lips. "You are lucky Gwilym was there to accompany me."

"Hmm, he's not mad at Joe and me, is he? " Pulling away, you joke a little to cheer yourself up.

"No," she takes a sip of her can and puts it on the table, "in fact he's furious." This could be a little enlightening, a chat with Lucy to shed a beam of light on your mood. You take a seat next to her and begin your conversation. It's not much except that it's full of what happened at her photoshoot, the promotions she is required to attend, a few people she's had a little beef with and apparently her planned getaway with Rami to France. The topic is almost unilateral but you always take genuine interest in everything she says. Notwithstanding the fact that she constantly groans at the mention of the situations she underwent, you both still take a laugh out of it.

It's Lucy, she's a fascinating person with a fascinating life. You sometimes even wish you had her glam and eye for fashion.

She moves a lock of her blonde hair away from her forehead and looks at you curiosly. "Okay enough about me, what went on with you this week?"

You shrug, in an attempt to recall anything at all. "Not much. New Year's was a blast and last night's party was another thing," you turn your glance to your shoes, a frail smirk ghosting on your lips, eventually turning into a hopeful beam as your acceptance into the medical school flashes in your mind, "and... I got accepted into the medical school I applied for."

Lucy's eyes snap wide open at the news. "Shut up," she grabs you by the shoulders and gapes at you with eyes sparkling like they just found a heap of treasure, "you applied for medical school?" The slight disbelief and utter amazement can never be any clearer in her voice.

You nod happily and without warning, Lucy pulls you in for a tight hug, squealing at your success. "Oh my god, that's amazing! When did you get the letter? Have you told anyone?"

"I was sent an email from the institution this morning and told my parents and Joe about it soon after."

Lucy shifts on the couch, sliding her hands over her lap. "Which medical school though?"

"It's outside the country."

"Have you told Ben? "

With her question still hanging in thin air, you pause for a while before turning your head to her, shaking it slowly.

"Why?"

You stand up and head for the kitchen to grab a glass of water, your action confusing Lucy. "Y/N, are you okay?" She asks and you return on cue with your glass in hand. You let out a soft exhale and descend onto the couch. "I just...dont want to make him worry."

"Worry and Ben aren't exactly two words that mingle well. Solely in the context of a great news such as your acceptance."

"Of course, but I don't know how long I'll be gone." You notice your voice dwindle down to a whisper with the cast of your gaze to the side. The look on your face is deciphered by Lucy who's somehow adept at reading expressions, the blank that is your face making it easier for her.

And she suddenly knows what those furrowed brows mean. "There's something you're not telling me, Y/N. Just say it. I mean...even if you don't say it, I already hinted at it." She slides a hand over yours and you slowly turn to her, your expression becoming mildly stark. Of course she'd have a guess and it's only fair that she knows, she could help you get over it.

Your lips part but quiver as you try to find the right words. "I love him."

Lucy's gentle hold turns into a light squeeze, an indication of her comforting you. Her lips curve into a tender yet sad smile as she draws you in close again.

No matter how hard you're trying to let the tears fall, it just doesn't. It hurts but your tears aren't present to highlight that churning burn. Against all the odds to have them resurface in your eyes, you dip your head onto her shoulder and just squeeze your eyes shut. You mumble languidly on how it was an impulse to lie about your acceptance to Ben after he had broken the news about his engagement to you and soon after you had the thought that he would slowly forget about you once he and Rosy marry, and that your friendship wouldn't matter in the long run. As the decision that it'd be best if you go without him knowing, thinking it would make it easier for you to move on.

Lucy clears your face of your hair strands, staring at this once hidden,broken side of you. "I'm so sorry. I know this might not change a thing but you must tell him. He would never forget you, you're like the first person on his mind when he needs someone to talk to."

"Rosy's his life-"

"Y/N, don't demote yourself to a third party. You're more than what she is in his life," a brief pause from Lucy followed by a heartwarming emphasis, "you're his soulmate."

That word always meant something different to you. It involved a deep,romantic relationship but with how Lucy uttered it, it now means something entirely new. But you can't bring yourself to believe it. It's not a concept that can suture the gaping cut left in you.

With the little emotional strength left in you, you smile, launching at her with another hug as a requital to her presence during a time as this.

"I know it hurts...but- bloody, that's what love does to everyone."

--- (Apparent time skip 👀)

Amidst the hectic schedule your job has burdened you with throughout another week, never once have you faltered in between. You've gotten tons of invites to get-togethers during your weekend from friends yet out of the fear of losing all concentration on your duties, you turned them down politely. The second week of a new year means a new batch of spine-cracking, workload for everyone with jobs.

You're doing all this to save up for med school and it's something you tend to prioritize first and foremost. And regarding med school, you are to leave a month before enrollment to ensure your documents are in tacked and get served first. Since a few days before first semester arrives, enrollees would be lining up from different backgrounds and classes would be heavily filled. You have weeks left before your departure...and still, you haven't told Ben the truth...or talked to him in days, at least. For all you know, he could be on a tour, at a conference, an awards ceremony that you don't know of- certainly not the Oscars since you've been told that it's scheduled on February. He's probably busy enough to have other things in mind.

You discard the distraction and go about your business in your work area, with the intention of letting it purposefully distract you.

Minutes close to your dismissal, one of your co-workers strut in to invite you to have a drink with them. You could do no more than turn her down politely but with regards to the strain you've put yourself in with work, she insists and demands that you don't hesitate.

"But-" You try to protest, only to fail as she cuts you off. "I beg of you. Just for tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

You lightly clap your hands on the desk, springing from your chair with your head lightly tilted to one side. You turn your head to the wall clock on your far left and bob your head. "Do we leave now?"

"Most certainly. Come on!"

You haven't sped out of the building that fast with your colleagues before, not that it's not the first time but it certainly feels like it with how relieved you feel to go out. You needed a distraction from your personal ordeal and you got it, in the form of a night out for a drink.

You hit the pub that's just right across the street for the sake of convenience, half expecting your night to turn out eventful. A light buzz from your pocket stops you halfway into the entrance and slightly indisposed, you fish your phone out from your pocket, holding up your index finger at one of your colleagues to take the message you've received. They stride in ahead of you as you read the message, a little surprised to know Joe's back in London in the favor of Lucy who had asked him to come back. He's asked you out for a dinner with his friend but you tell him you're out for a drink with your colleagues, to which he replies with, "Mind if we join you then?"

And of course, you invite him over. Traipsing through the near rayless place to find your friends, hilariously realizing you're walking to the beat of the music coming from the speakers, you do a double-take at the table to your near left, quickly covering your face and speeding away to continue your search as the sight of Ben with his mates and Rosy ruins the first half of your evening.

What a distraction from a distraction.

#borhap #queen #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #imagine #borhap imagine #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast #joe mazzello #lucy boynton #queen band

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