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gnohomotho · 5 months ago

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May I play with you? 「✦Pt.3✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: Well, you were and still are screwed, only in a manner so much worse and so much more intricate than before. It's always the quiet, polite ones, isn't it? The games with this coiling serpent of a man are starting to get...personal. And he is truly, woefully, dangerously enamoured. We have a kind father figure, we have new characters, we have a very lascivious wager, and we have many, many games. And games behind games. And intimacy that is more dangerous than a loaded gun. Oh, and fluff, because it's me writing and by God, there will be tenderness. (❀´ ˘ `❀) Warnings: Not quite smut yet, but...some very nasty implications, sexual content, and a realistic depiction of trauma reactions/mental processes. Violence, harsh language, touching, fondling, undressing, 18+ and MDNI. Even if it's not too overt yet, I stuff most of the things between lines and wouldn't wish to hurt anyone. Word count: 5k A/N: Decided to halve this as I was writing between my actual work and duties, so the next chapter should be up tomorrow. ˙ᵕ˙ Tried very hard to stay truthful to character but also include some...dangerous fluff? May I call it that? It could be projection. Maybe this is all a gigantic Rorschach test. ⭒˚.⋆˖➴༯ Thank you so, so very much for all the support and kind messages, I cherish every one of you. ♥ If you like my writing, every like // reblog // follow // message is welcome and helps boost more activity - meaning more writing! ♥ Link to previous Link to next Gorgeous gif by @phantom-evil Tag list: @storytellers-randomshortstorys @ingstadstarlight જ⁀➴

Of course there had to be an investigation.

You don’t quite remember too well how you managed to leave.

The rainy night enveloped you like a careful lover welcoming you back into their arms. The rain kissed your skin as you walked, coatless, like a ghost. Every movement you made, you checked your body periodically – the words of the salesman still stung in your ringing ears.

Where those dirty, undeserving hands have been…

You wished you could take off your skin. The rain did its best.

“We’ll continue the game soon,” he had said, playing with the gun. As he laid it to his mouth, his round face circled to you slowly and as his lips brushed the barrel, his eyes pierced you straight through.

How can something so blunt and dead remain so sharp?

The warmth you must have imagined in them as you spoke of a flower must have been just that. Imagined. He was playing with you. Playing with you the entire time.

Of course there had to be an investigation.

❥❥❥

You sat in a dingy room with grey walls, on an uncomfortable plastic chair. An unopened water bottle, a crinkly vending machine snack, and a vague drawing lay before you. It took you every reserved nerve in your body not to laugh maniacally at the crude caricature.

It looked like someone drew a toupee on a smooth pumpkin.

“I don’t remember anything. I have no idea who this is. Can I go now?”

“Miss, we have it on good authority that this man either kidnapped you or kidnapped your colleague and then lured you to him.”

Funny, the man didn’t look like an investigator. Too nonchalant. Too…casual. Maybe you just watched too much Columbo when you were younger.

“We need to find him.” The overcoat with a man inside said.

“Alright. Find him. I don’t know why you think I can help you.”

“You’ve been seen on the subway, talking to someone resembling the description and the picture.”

You look down to the drawing and that pesky mouth corner is visibly tugging at itself the more you study the black lines. The eyes are literally upturned “U” shapes and the mouth looks like a child tried to draw lips puckering into a kiss.

“Have you been watching me?”

“Not officially, no.”

“Have you been watching me?” You repeat, sinking your eyes into the shallow light pools of the man before you. Older man. Tacky suit in an overcoat. Light hair. Pale grey eyes. Lines in the face and not enough sleep. A small belly. You mentally recoil a tad. The type reminds you of your late nights trying to avoid precisely this kind of man.

“Then officially, please stop. I cannot help you. I’m happy I got out alive, I don’t remember anyone’s face – it was dark, and I’m in shock, and I might just dissociate to god knows where from the trauma alone. Don’t you have any regard for revictimization?”

The man visibly paused, your buzzword monologue seems to have pulled on something and held.

“No, miss, I’m sorry…would you like me to fetch someone…to talk to you? About that?”

“No. I want to go home. I have someone to talk to. And they respect doctor-patient confidentiality which you cannot breach without a court order. Can I go?”

“Miss, this is for your safety. We…I have it on good authority…that that man is dangerous. Very dangerous.” The sudden softening of the tone, trying to act almost fatherly turns your stomach, likely using his sincere attempt at rapport building against him – you do not wish to even think of thinking of your own father.

“Whose authority?”

Yet he continues as if he didn’t hear your question.

“He may appear charming, he may appear kind and thoughtful, having your best interests at heart. But it is nothing like that. He is a snake. And you won’t know you’re about to be eaten alive until the very last inch of that slimy body coils around you and strangles the breath from your tender lungs.”

“Leave my tender lungs out of this, detective…detective….”

“Detective Lubomier. But please call me Bomi.”

You raise your eyebrows and sit back, scanning him anew. You didn’t hear anything in his accent, yet his name is most definitely familiar to you.

“Detective…Bomi?” You’re trying to be polite, you really are. Pesky mouth corners.

His eyes soften further, and he finally sits opposite to you, resting his hands on the table next to the recording device.

“My daughter calls me that.” He looks down, avoiding your eyes, but leaves his palm open on the table.

“She’s eleven years old, a little ball of energy with eyes that somehow always sneak past any boundary I come up with. Gentle thing, used to make new wings for dead insects in the garden so they could fly again and join their insect ancestors. I can’t imagine anything happening to her.”

He looks up into your eyes, finally, out of nowhere grabbing your free hand into his thick palm. You note the callouses and find the gesture…endearing, should you feel anything in your still half dead limbs.

Don't fucking touch me.

Though you don't pull away physically, your entire arm from fingertips to shoulder might as well be cold plastic.

“I can’t imagine anything happening to her.” He simply states again, the words between lines so very apparent they might as well scream.

Your voice softens too, and your eyes blink slowly. As you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, you lay your other hand on his enclosing palm and stroke it reassuringly.

“If you want…do an investigation.”

Your voice is honey and kind, momentarily losing its faux sharpness, but your shoulders remain guarded and stiff.

“Investigate my father. Really dive in. Then, investigate Mishko. I’ll even let you take any swabs you need off me. Then try to look at your daughter with all those variables in place.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, but there seems to be an errant tear threatening to form in the corner of your left eye and sink the whole operation. Always the left eye. Although your voice is level, your demeanour cold – your voice is that of a lady softly reassuring someone to sleep as a battle rages on outside.

“…Then try this game with me again, Mr. Bomi. If you manage to do it without being sick, I will gladly bring your round-faced menace right to your doorstep.”

The man before you stiffens, but says nothing. Lost for words, he looks at you anew, slowly lifting his head to meet your eyes. Understanding plays in their carved chasms, something more than mere interest. Understanding and…you recoil.

Pity.

“Don’t.” You state, letting go of his hand. “Don’t.”

“Miss---Y/N. Y/N. If I may.” He gets up fast, rustling through a pocket of his beige overcoat and pulling out a card. He rustles through yet another set of pockets almost chaotically and finally finds what he wanted. A small rectangle that could pass for a gem or an accessory.

Extending a hand to you, he avoids your eyes.

They always do that.

“This is my card, call me, day or night. If you find him, if he finds you,” his voice momentarily freezes and his eyes seemingly wander to nowhere, but he continues without acknowledgement, “don’t hesitate. Call this number immediately. And take this with you. It’s just a simple alarm button. If you can’t get to your phone, press it for as long as you can. We…can help you. I can help you. Find you.”

His entire persona, demeanour, everything has shifted and you’re not sure how many games and how many false personalities you can keep track of. He’s almost…protective. Worried. For you. Ok. Good one. Good one. Let’s not fall for too many in one week.

But your resolve, your own cold persona, the dissociated protective shield that is becoming heavy to wear is cracking under this newfound caring warmth. Warmth you haven’t felt…in so very long. And an older man wishing to keep you from harm? That’s just cheating.

“Detective…” You get up slowly, straightening your skirt. The gesture almost brings you back to that night, to the gunshot, to the desperate fear that froze your veins – but you only let it freeze your limbs as collateral and not reach your face.

“Bomi.” You flutter kind eyes at the disquieted man before you, noting his stubble, his tense face, his quiet but somewhat compassionate eyes.

“May I take your hand?”

He wordlessly lifts his right hand to you, palm facing upwards. You appreciate the gesture and transparency. Slowly you envelop it in both of yours and smile that sad smile that reaches your eyes. The smile you use when you say that you’re tired when you’re anything but. The smile that reassures and calms down, letting people ignore the flames feasting on your body.

“It’s ok. Don’t worry about me. He won’t find me again. I’m not looking for him. I don’t even know who he is. And I’m sure he’s got bigger fish to fry than a stupid girl with sad eyes. Go to your daughter and tell her I said hello. She sounds lovely.”

You tuck the card in your pocket, the device in your other, and watch your tights contrast against the sterile white floors as you try to walk slowly, assuredly, outside.

Your breath is faster than you thought. Your shirt too tight against your neck. Your left eye has begun to leak and your right is fast behind.

It’s alright, I don’t need anything, anyone, especially not someone who couldn’t help if he wanted to. Always on my own, and that’s ok. Always on watch, and that’s ok. Who will look after you? Nobody, and that’s ok. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. That’s just the way it is.

You had been avoiding the subway station for a couple of days now.

Come to think of it, the entire time following that horrendous night. The gunshot rang in your ears as did the words of the salesman.

The moment you thought of him, your skin reacted with visceral feeling – you could have sworn you felt his fingers on your thigh, the hot air on your ear, the visible shiver that went straight through you. The cold that enveloped you and tore warmth and life from every periphery, every finger, everything to be chucked to the wolves to be able to run faster.

But there was another feeling, nestled closely under your thawing heart. Almost unnoticeable. Tiny. Fragile yet burning.

Anticipation.

You breathe out and focus on the people around. An old lady in a pink coat. Pink is good.

Just transfer of affect, nothing more, just a brain forcing a very bad experience into something pleasurable and nonthreatening.

A little boy holding his father’s coat. Green grass. Green tree.

Timid warmth, like that of softly glowing embers deep under the cold dark remnants of burnt wood.

Nothing. It's nothing. You need a long bath and a cyanide cocktail. Maybe you should call that person you mentioned to the detective.

"Hello, doctor X, yes, I seem to be suffering the delusion of having an unhinged lunatic fondle my thigh as he lasciviously seduces the barrel of a gun, no, I'm pretty sure I'm not psychotic yet, though the D in PTSD might as well stand for 'dumbass'. Yes, I would need you to hold me tight and break every rule in the ethics book as I turn into my best impression of a thawing puddle of ice in a microwave."

No, this will not do.

You get home. You lock the door. Twice.

And you put on a pretty dress.

❥❥❥

The mirror stares back.

You feel…wilted.

Big doll eyes...

Begging for me...

You look to the curve of your hips where the dress softly clings and falls.

Up to the neck again, exposed and the hot breath and cologne come through even now.

You place your hair over it. Touching your hands, they still seem...dead. As if lost for feeling.

For a small moment, before you could catch yourself, you imagine strong, large hands around you, holding you tight and letting nothing bad through.

You mentally break the image.

A doll, you scoff. All you need is screws and some strings.

The image of a lifeless puppet stirs something quite horrible inside of you, and you look away. Only now do the waves if consequence and reality hit you, slowly, from each side. Threatening to pull you under.

You endeavour to examine your body, no matter your dislike, no matter the insecurities, no matter the memories.

It's futile, you don't know if the bruises were there before. Your breasts...hurt. Maybe it's just your chest being so worked up, the cold air. Surely. Surely.

Fucking surely or so help me.

You try to examine higher. More intimate places. Stomach. Ribs. Lower still.

But you fail. Tights. We need tights. Something to keep everything together and covered. Skirt. Cover.

What has he touched?

What did he do?

And why is he facing no consequences while I get dollar store Columbo?

What has he touched...what has he taken. Was there anything to take? I feel...cold. Empty but dirty.

You water your plant before you leave, speaking to it softly. Assuring it that you'll come back soon.

And tuck a little something into the hem of your tights.

❥❥❥

A loud venue with loud people. That was wise. But it kind of was. The cacophony and overstimulation would eventually fry your brain, and you'd feel either safe or invisible.

You wonder if it'll rain again.

A young man in his twenties tries to yell over the music and get your attention. You sip your drink and shake your head. This was a bad idea.

Spiky hair, a little group. They always hunt in groups, don't they.

"Do you love her?"

The words reverberate and corner you.

Whoever said that saying I love you was like pointing a loaded gun obviously didn't know they'd be taken literally.

If he loved me and did that to me...what worth am I? Did I have any to begin with?

Why did he ask?

Now you feel like starting a barfight just to feel something. But instead, you sit down next to a tired looking young woman and feel nothing. As if someone pushed you out of your body and left you a little bit to the side. Occupying your form like an insolent, rotting parasite.

The lady unwittingly lays her head on your shoulder, and a momentary hint of feeling envelops you down to your wrist, but stops at your neck. You smile into her hair, humming softly.

The group of men don't seem too eager on giving up. And you kind of like this song.

"I'm really not in the mood, sorry."

"Come on, sweetheart, one dance?"

"I'm...a bit drunk. Not good for dancing." Lying hasn't failed you yet. The young man looks like he's still in school, an unassuming boy in an open collar shirt and dark trousers. Dark hair. Light eyes. They sparkle when the dim light hits them.

"I'll hold you!"

Fuck it.

Though you didn't register it straight away, you did catch the attention of a whole different kind of animal. Older. More experienced. A belly full of bones of creatures just like you. As your dress followed you in small movements to a slow song and the young man did keep his hands mostly to himself, someone was watching you. And you saw them too.

Finally. It's getting interesting.

❥❥❥

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

“Repairing a broken heart, you?”

“Same, same…would you like a drink, little one?”

Little one.

Get out of my head.

You smile the most innocent of smiles batting the thought away, very careful to not even begin to touch the older gentleman’s body. A tuck of hair behind your ear, a little gesture of a timid hand on your lips as if conveying shy embarrassment, and eyes like sweet little coin slots as you laugh a laugh he’d never see as false through his slimy urges alone. It never reaches the area beneath your eyes.

Your eyes are closed on their own, a perfect mimicry of a human smile.

Who does that remind you of?

The sounds of music get drenched in his slurring words. You learn that his wife left him, he’s worth more zeros than you can count nor care about, and how he can’t stop looking at your beautiful innocent face. Such a young, pretty face. Like a doll.

Something about loving to see it break and cry and kiss it better.

Something about those beautiful curves concealed by too much dress. How the white reminds him how innocent and pure you are.

Suddenly he leans into you and drags a hand up your thigh, the other around your back.

“I’ve got a beautiful kitty at home, would you like to see?”

A kitty?

“Awh, a kitty? Of course! I’d love to go somewhere more private. And pet a kitty.”

Your sing-song voice doesn’t match your thigh-pulling-away action.

You’re making a mistake of a lifetime, Y/N, you’re not going to solve a single issue by doing this…he’s not the one who hurt you. He’s not the one whose suffering will ease anything. Stop. Go home.

But your thoughts are cold. It doesn’t matter if he’s the not the exact copy. I bet he’s done worse. Just so happens he stuck his hand in the wrong borough. Bad luck in the game he decided to play.

No, no, no, no, all wrong. I need to get out. This isn’t me. And what exactly would I do with a bloated old body if it actually worked? Christ, Y/N…the blood? The clothes? Cameras? Phones?

What if it was your little sister, in your place?

You excuse yourself and get ready to leave. One check on the tired lady, who is still where you left her, unbothered. You leave her with a little sweet whisper and ask the barman to watch over her, just in case.

Then walk out like a ghost.

❥❥❥

The alleyway was dark, close to the road. A few cars go by gracing the suffocating walls with momentary lines of orange light. Momentary noise and light – then silence.

Just like the motel.

You shake your head visibly. You feel the change in the air as you do and don’t look behind you. You already know, you’ve taught yourself quite well.

The man found you. He seems taller than he was sitting down. His half-illuminated figure blocks the alleyway’s entrance and the back door to the venue is closed.

He seems closer now that he’s shielded by the night. You only step back as his shadow reaches the tips of your shoes.

As he closes the distance between you, you find you don’t move back. He pushes you against the cold wall with one clumsy movement and you hiss as the stone scratches your now exposed back.

His thick harsh fingers find your thigh and your struggles only exacerbate his oafish displays of power over your cold body. You didn’t even get time to drag out your little disposable razorblade you wished to use should you go through with the plan.

And you truly don’t wish for him to find it either, nor get that far up your leg.

Nails it is.

Why doesn’t my body move the way I will it?

My legs are so…wooden. My arms don’t listen.

Maybe he’ll kill me. Maybe I should let him.

Fuck.

Fuck!

You try to deliver a kick between his legs and buy yourself time, but you were slow. It only made him angry. You feel sharp pain in your ribs and sudden blunt pain in your face. He hit you.

“Fucking whore.”

So you try to get up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling at him and doing your very best to punch back now that his face is so close – chaotic, desperate hits, shoves, scratches; half of them don’t land but you don’t care. Both your eyes are blurry, both your cheeks wet and you smell copper.

Piece of trash.

Trash!

Abusing little girls.

Abusing women.

Abusing your pathetic, undeserved power.

Trash!

You deserve to die slowly.

You deserve your eyes scooped out with my blunt nails and stuffed into your decrepit mouth!

The hit to your stomach was too much and you double over, losing your footing. He grabs you by the neck and forces you to straighten. Clumsily, you feel each of your collarbones react with a blunt tear from the grip, and get another grab at your nape.

“Good little girl, now, won’t you come home with me? Kitties need to be petted.”

You can’t see him through your cut off head movements as the sped-up blur meshes all dark colours together and each passing car light blinds you with new contrast; you fling your head side to side, your body caught in an adrenalin fuelled, desperate, vivid struggle, each limb seemingly of its own furious mind – finally you can feel something. Even if you’re losing. All that rage. All that quiet, subdued emotion. All that ice. All of it to be hurled back at this pathetic figure before you.

But should anyone see you…they would see you’re losing. Your limbs are fragile and cannot keep up. Your body is visibly giving up with every effort it flings into a wall. Your breaths barely reach your lungs. Why didn’t you cry for help? Because no help ever comes.

Dark, so dark…sparkles behind eyelids…maybe I can leave…finally leave…let the darkness swallow me and hush all as I go…

The alleyway replies with a soft, almost unnoticeable whisper.

“Pspspspsps.”

Your ringing brain is hallucinating. Surely. That hit to your face must have shuffled things inside. You try to lift your head, but it is too heavy.

There is nothing between the strands of your fallen hair and stained dress.

That whisper finds its way into your cloudy mind, and rests there, as unassuming as it is sweet. A polite guest.

“Here, little pussycat.”

You must be losing too much oxygen.

But the weight of the man is suddenly…lighter. Your back isn’t being pushed against the wall. You stumble and slide down halfway, steadying yourself with your palms against the cold surface. Your neck is free, your dress torn, and your knees buckling.

You still can’t breathe and register sounds between your sharp intakes of air. Such a cloud of copper and blurs, sounds too loud yet none getting through.

“Such a sweet little thing. Why would you be so harsh?”

The man stumbles backwards, and your vision goes dark. Sounds fade together. Something heavy hitting the floor.

“No way to treat a little pussycat.”

Air disrupted, something swinging in it. And suddenly. Muffled whimpers.

Followed by a sound that drags ice through your neck and down your spine.

A crack.

Like a tree snapping underwater, subdued, enveloped in darkness.

And silence.

❥❥❥

As your eyes adjust and your head pounds, you register two things. You can see the sky and the stars. The night looks back at you, calm, quiet. The second, there is something blocking the stars to your side. A shape. You blink again. You feel blood in your mouth and barely swallow.

The dark shadow against the sky gains shape. Kneeling to you, it is still foreboding. Large.

Yet somehow. Lithe against its surroundings. Although unmoving apart from a set of breaths that are beginning to sink into eery calm, there he is. Kneeling at your side, with enough distance not to touch. Studying you. Looking at you. Charcoal eyes burning straight through you.

A small smile in the corner of his mouth, yet his gaze is anything but kind. Patience of a cat that has grown a bit bored with its mouse. You see his tie is still neat, his suit almost untouched. A little roughed up. His hair still perfectly in place with a single loose strand playing on his forehead.

He cranes his head as he rests his forearms on his knees. You almost smile at the familiarity of his stance. Your brain is so far away you might just wish to die right now.

He doesn’t smile back.

Merely asks you, level voiced, with not a hint of warmth:

“Did you win?”

❥❥❥

You lay there, gazing up at the stars. Your body aches. You find it hard to move. And he doesn’t help you. You’re rather grateful for that. He just watches you, waiting for his answer.

“Obviously didn’t,” you barely cough in a whisper. Your chest feels like it’s been punched straight through, and your neck is a numb pulsating battleground for breath.

“Hmm…” he muses, still watching you. Unsatisfied with his answer but seemingly not invested enough to care.

Or perhaps…he truly wondered if you got what you wanted.

You register movement, but don’t look at him anymore. You’re ashamed. Pathetic. And worried. Very worried, if you felt anything at all. The stars look pretty. A sickle moon shares its light with you. You wish it would rain.

“Let’s play a game,” the salesman says nonchalantly with a sparkle in his dark eye. You notice the veins standing out on his hands and wrists like thick highways, yet his face remains a smiling mask. There is something else in there, too.

Disdain? Apathy? Disappointment? Boredom?

Anger?

Projecting.

Quite easy with a one-way mirror.

You stare at the moon.

If he wanted to hurt you, he’d had done it already. You’re lying on the cold ground in a torn bloody dress in a dark alley at night. It doesn’t get any more inviting than that.

Rifling through his pockets, he pulls out a shiny object. It catches your eye like another star.

As softly as the rain that still won’t come you see his lips mouth in the darkness:

“If you win, I walk away.”

Your eyes meet his, gazing down at you.

Your body reacts. Truly reacts. Little bouts of electricity traversing your skin and your limbs, inadvertently answering to him. And you would cry if you had the energy or the inclination.

You place a hand on your stomach as if feebly laying a shield between him and you, still catching errant breaths.

They grow more and more sparse as you realise, he’s poising that prospect as the best option for you.

You speak to the moon steadying your breath, but it doesn’t listen.

“If…if I lose?”

He leans in ever so subtly, resting a closed fist against his cheek, watching you still. He doesn’t seem to blink. Every movement appears so deliberate. And though he’s not touching you, not taking advantage of the situation…you might as well be tied up.

“You come with me. Let me tend to my flower without a right to disagree.”

Before you can comprehend the weight of his wager, he delivers a single incision straight through:

“Mine for the night to do with as I please.”

So slowly that you might miss it, he smiles that sickly sweet smile, letting his arm fall loosely to you and dangle almost teasingly above your hand, still not brushing your skin.

So close.

Knowing how much you would give him; how little you’d resist. But if you’ve learnt anything about him, that’s not what he would like nor find particularly interesting. Even now. You feel sick. You feel sick because he’s not taking, demanding, snatching. He’s giving you an option. Yet you feel you have no ground to stand on. Quite literally.

“…And I am very much in the mood for another game.”

❥❥❥

It’s just a coin toss; how much can I lose? It’s a fifty-fifty chance. What’s the most one could ever lose in a coin toss?

“Heads,” you whisper, letting your hand open and close below his, slowly, as if trying to will your fingers to life. Somehow, you feel even less. The cold cobblestones are warmer than you. His hand makes a subtle motion, gliding in the stiff air between your touch and his; a little teasing pendulum. His other moves as you voice your wager.

The salesman tosses the coin off his thumb, and your eyes follow it as it glistens among the stars.

As it falls on the back of his hand, he lets it drop into your opening and closing palm just as it closes again.

No chance of cheating.

It’s literally in my hands.

That’s just cruel.

Now he’s leaning into you and above you, shielding the sky. Nothing but his face and piercing eyes may enter your visual field. With that single strand of hair out of place and what must be blood speckles on his face, he looks like a charming mannequin not trying to pass as human anymore.

“Little lady, open your palm for me.”

You do, and don’t look.

A little polite chuckle escapes his lips; the salesman cracks his neck from side to side as if adjusting, eyes closed, before straightening to his full height. He looks down at you, head cocked to one side, examining you. Every part of you feels so naked, so exposed. And he would almost seem wistful as he towers above you. His full height truly is intimidating.

Gosh. Thank God. I can gather strength and get to a hospital.

“Little lady, little lady…” he coos, guiding your eyes with his own to your palm. You drag it up and open it in full view.

Tails.

❥❥❥

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roses-without-raindrops · 4 months ago

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Hey everyone, Rosy here! In the following days I should be able to work on a few one shots while I work on my bigger fanfic, of which I'm gonna talk to you about in due time. I have a lot of one shot ideas, all being Silco x Reader (except for one Vander x Reader), but I'm having difficulty choosing one to start with. Can ya help me out?

Every vote is appreciated and if you have any suggestions you can leave them in the comments, I'll read them gladly.

That's it, I hope you have a great rest of your day! Love ya, XOXO🩷

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #silco fanfic #arcane fanfic

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naancydrew · 1 year ago

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can we gather a mass list of clue crew mysteryish/thriller/nancyish media recommendations? i'll start:

shows: columbo, murder she wrote, psych, x-files

video games: ace attorney, pentiment, return of the obra dinn, ghost trick

books: the 7 1/2 deaths of evelyn hardcastle, omniscient reader's viewpoint, (honestly that's it other than nancys I need to read more mystery novels)

movies: knives out series of course, the handmaiden

board games: (idk any I'm sorry just thinking of media categories)

trrpgs: monster of the week, city of mist

#clue crew #reply or reblog with your recs!!!#doesnt have to be fully mystery #could be more puzzley #or just fit the Vibes #ill take anything

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oggirlboss · 1 year ago

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༺ ♰ ༻ sicko fantasies ༺ ♰ ༻

levi ackerman masterlist

summary: levi ackerman has to supervise a certain brat in detention. needy little virgin hours ensue before school is in session.

pairing[s]: yandere!janitor!levi ackerman x afab!student!reader

warning[s]: flirtatious behavior, power imbalance, m!masturbation, voyeurism, and age gap. hella weird so read at your own risk.

note[s]: no beta, we die like carla.

word count: 3k

art belongs to columbo on twitter (i still refuse to call it x)

levi ackerman is a sick, twisted, little fuck of a man. the exact kind of gross dude that forced schoolgirls to have a dress code. he couldn't stop himself from looking up girls skirts when he knelt down to pick up their trash, or avoid looking down girls shirts when they leaned over to wash their hands in the sink. he didn't even regard his perversion as an awful thing. after all, there are other guys out there who let their obsessions go to the absolute extreme, their crimes delving into horrendous depths like rape and murder. levi could never imagine such things happening, the thought made him sick to his stomach. he wasn't that bad... was he?

principle erwin certainly didn't think so. he's known about levi's little habit since grade school, but that didn't stop him from writing levi a letter of recommendation and convincing the board of regents to hire him as the primary janitor at shiganshina high school. surely if erwin thought he was so bad he would have tried to protect the girls of the school from him, right?

¿ʇɥɓıɹ

it wasn't like all of his attention was centered on one individual, levi knew that type of behavior was out of the question. he was just liked looking that was all, he didn't have the skills to actually approach one of these girls. despite these perversions, he was disgusted by men that touched girls. the ones who prey on the vulnerable, whose sickly minds allow them to prey on girls and use their positions of power and authority to manipulate these girls into doing whatever they want. to use them however they want. levi didn't think he was like that at all.

but he did take a great interest in you during your sophomore year. you probably got put into detention for a stupid reason, and he couldn't help but sympathize with you. he figured that you got caught doing something mildly dangerous by an administrator and shoved into detention with the rest of the rejects. except since it was nearing the end of the year, all the other teachers didn't even bother to put their students in detention. they dished out more tame punishments to their students and basically took it easy for the last stretch of work until summer break. the teachers were just as fed up with their jobs as the students were with their mundane classes. you, unfortunately, were the unwritten exception to this unspoken rule, and as a result you were the only one sitting in a desolate cafeteria.

that was the first time levi truly paid attention to you. you were a shy kid, you mostly kept your head down and didn't talk much. he had seen you around before and he figured that it'd be creepy if he struck up a conversation before going off to clean the bathrooms in the teacher's lounge. as soon as he saw your silk-smooth skin peeking out of your too short shorts, he knew he'd need to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

"oi! brat." he spoke calmly, feigning disinterest when his heart was beating out of his chest. "i'm your assigned supervisor for detention. you can start by picking up a rag and some disinfectant to wipe down all the tables and chairs." his stomach lurched at the lie, this was exhilarating. he watched you hurry to do as he commanded, feeling pride swell in his chest. you believed him. he was a trusted adult, and his authority in the matter didn't need any questioning.

"i was told professor miche would be in charge of detention today." levi pondered on a good response, but he couldn't stop mulling over the fact that bastard had snatched you up first. miche would have had you all to himself if levi hadn't spoken up just now

"miche couldn't make it on time, so i'm here to cover for him." levi had a teasing tone in his voice, a smile ghosting his fine features for less than a second. "now are you going to stand around looking pretty, or are you going to get to work?" his taunt didn't have much of an effect on you as you marched up to his supply cart and snatched up a rag and some random chemical mix. "no no no. that won't do." levi sauntered towards you, snapping the rim of his plastic gloves as he did so. "you can't use furniture polish for cleaning surfaces. while the lemony scent does have it's perks, a bleach based product would help you much more." your eyebrows furrowed as you nodded. maybe you could learn something from his guidance, after all, he was a professional.

"alright. will clorox work?" you picked up the product by its handle and squeaked as you gripped the hilt, causing a foamy string of liquid to burst from its container.

"hey, hey, no funny business." levi smirked at your playful tenacity. you were so much more fun than he'd thought you would be. "who even taught you how to clean?" he scoffed in a light-hearted manner.

"i guess i'm self taught, but i always get the job done good enough." you smiled at him as you sprayed the different tables and wiped them down with an old blue rag.

"well maybe your good enough isn't good enough for me and my standards." levi hovered over your shoulder, carefully observing your movements. he wrapped himself around you, pressing his chest against your back and helping you grasp your hand around the rag. "move your arm in a circular motion, but don't press too hard into the wood, you'll tire yourself out too quickly that way." you carefully listened to every word he said, this is a learning experience, isn't it? this knowledge came straight from the mouth of a professional, you'd be absolutely daft to not pay attention to him. but it didn't help that he was easy on the eyes or that you could feel his muscles flex through your clothing. he was undeniably attractive and it was hard for you not to entertain the notion. his sharp breath ghosted the skin behind your ear.

"what sort of cleaning products do you use at home?" his question and his proximity startled you.

"um, i use the mr. clean stuff. my mom thought that their super bowl commercial from a few years ago was the epitome of comedy ."

"tch." you could feel his grip tighten on your hand as he shook his head. you frowned at his reaction.

"well what's that supposed to mean?" he sighed before spiraling into a lecture.

"mr. clean, although sexy in his own right, is much too expensive. especially those magic erasers of his. they are outrageously overpriced, and they're not even real magic." your nose crinkled as you snickered at his joke, and his face lit up in a blush. "they're uh, they're made of uh sodium bisulfite copolymer, and it's ridiculously cheap. for half the price, you can buy ten times the amount that damned company scams you with."

"i suppose that's one of the many miracles of capitalism." levi's deep chuckle vibrated through your back. his presence was comforting, and it was beyond a relief to have such a friendly person around, even if it will only last the span of detention.

"you're funny." he leaned into the crook of your neck and lightly sniffed the perfume you'd applied earlier that morning. it's probably for that bastard, miche. levi did his best to shake that thought out of his head, and hurriedly stepped away from you.

"is everything alright, sir?" you threw your rag down, abandoning your place at the table and rushed to his side. your hand rested on the bare skin of his arm, and your eyes widened seeing levi acting so odd. he was perfectly fine seconds ago, it was hard to understand how this change could have taken place so quickly. "you look very pale." before he could blink the backs of your fingers were pressed against his clammy forehead and he was in heaven. he basked in the attention you were giving him, and in this shaken state narrowly avoided lathering you with the same touching care.

"yes, yes." levi cradled his head in his hand, and stared up at you with his hair falling into his eyes. "it's just a little headache, it's no problem." he frequently struggled with migraines, but those were nothing compared to whatever was coming over him now.

"well, i have some extra tylenol in my purse, i can go back to my locker and get some." you couldn't register the speed with which he reached out and held your wrist in an iron grip.

"no." his voice was gravelly, like a frog was caught in his throat. "don't leave. it's really nothing." he smiled to comfort you but it only did the opposite. there was a glint in his eyes that made you want to run away and never come back. you reluctantly agreed to stay with him, and worked through the rest of your detention in relative silence.

the following morning you were called into professor miche's office over the intercom. there were oohs and aahs from your classmates and a resounding thunder of commentary.

"i don't think y/n has ever gotten in trouble before." armin spoke to himself.

"she isn't going to be able to worm her way out of his one." snickered to her friends.

"how much you wanna bet she's screwing him to get a better grade?" reiner joked as berholdt berated him for making assumptions. wrong. wrong. wrong.

ɬɧɛყ'۷ɛ ɠơɬ ıɬ ąƖƖ ῳཞơŋɠ, ʝųʂɬ Ɩıƙɛ ɬɧɛყ ąƖῳąყʂ ɖơ.

you slammed your fists on the table, effectively silencing the chatter. you didn't bother to push your chair back in as you raced down the hallway to pound on miche's office door. you heard a sigh from inside as he beckoned you inside. his menacing figure towered over you

"it's not polite for you to skip out on detention, l/n. where were you for our session?"

"well, you would know if you weren't tardy for detention, sir." you smiled in an effort to brush off the discomforting feeling his stare brought you. miche leaned down to your level and violently sniffed the air around you. "i was with the janitor, you told him to fill in for you. does that ring a bell?" you could care less if you were sounding rude, but his questioning was getting tedious.

professor miche sneered down at you, mulling over the consequences that would be brought down upon you if he discovered this was a lie. "is this true, levi?" your eyes widened as turned around to see levi leaning on the handle of his cart. the hallway was utterly devoid of people, and you didn't understand how you didn't hear his footsteps or the squeak of the wheels on his cart. it's like he was invisible the entire time, appearing silently like a ghost. levi cleared his throat as he stared back at miche.

"quite so, yes. she worked very well under my guidance." he let his gaze drop to the ground as he licked his lips. "it makes me wish that miss l/n could get detention more often so i could have some help keeping this place tidy." he absentmindedly swiped two fingers over miche's name card that hung on his office door. "she worked well, and i'm sure she'll learn from the experience." miche scowled at levi, something was off about him. while the two of them weren't particularly close, he could certainly tell if something was wrong. he'll have to report this to principle erwin, if only to ease his conscience. "well, if that's everything, i suppose i'll be on my way." you gave levi a little smile and mouthed a quick thank you before he set off down the hallway with his cart.

the rumbling of the wheels echoed through the empty hallway as he moved closer and closer to the bathrooms he'd set out to clean. his cart was placed to the right of the entrance to the boy's bathroom and upon entering he was greeted with the welcoming scent of orange spice. levi took great care to make sure he was alone in that bathroom before he retreated into the furthest stall. he undid the buttons of his pants and slid them down his milky thighs until they rested around his ankles. he ran a swift hand through his silky black hair as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, gently smoothing over the thick skin and working to calm his unsteady breathing. he's never been this wound up during his work hours, but he had a feeling that this was soon going to be a normal occurrence. his brain began to wander away from the bathroom stall as he thought back to the porn he'd watched in his car before he came into work. he imagined the movements of the female model's body beneath the man, and how her body shook with every impact of their hips. his manhood twitched in excitement as he thought of her y/h/c hair that laid spread across her red pillows, but that was too perfect. it wasn't dirty enough for him. he needed the real deal, but nobody wanted to touch an old man, and they certainly didn't want to touch someone as creepy as levi ackerman. so he had to resort to doing it himself.

his hand stilled, cock sitting at attention against his pale stomach. he ran a finger over the mushroom-like head and began to roughly fist his cock like a madman. his eyes clenched shut as he tried to think of something that would get him off. the first thought that came to his mind wasn't even erotic, but it gave him a renewed vigor and sent a primal ache coursing through his aching cock. he wondered how you would look sleeping. you have to be the most heavenly creation in existence, vulnerable and at peace while you dream. it would only be too easy to get into the file cabinets that contain thee student records and discover your place of residence, and finally be blessed by the sight of you snuggled into your bed with your stuffed animals cradled to your chest. he could shimmy your cute pajama shorts off your body and press his hot tongue against your cunt. it'd be slimy and wet and lewd and absolutely gross. and he'd love every goddamn minute of it. your face would be flushed red and sweat would bead your forehead as you unconsciously rut against his mouth. he wants your juices to lather his lips and hold your breasts in a death grip as he makes you squirt onto his waiting tongue. he wants to be 𝖘𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 to you, and spoil you in every way imaginable. he wants to spear you on his cock and bury his head in your breasts, smothering himself and coating the valley between the two mounds on your chest with a mixture of his heavy drool and your wet release. he'll pump you full of his cum until you're absolutely bursting and pull up your panties to hide his mess. he'll sneak out your window and drive home while you lay in warm in your bed with your face shoved into your pillow.

he lets out a heavy groan as he brings his hand to his mouth to bite on his knuckles to stop any sound from escaping his treacherous mouth. he began to imagine what you would look like if you gave him a handjob. would you be slow and tentative? or would you opt to beat his manhood dry? no doubt your delicate fingertips would feel like heaven on earth, and your soft breath would hit his cheek as you focused on bringing him immense pleasure. he heard the door to the bathroom open, but he couldn't break free from his lusty haze. his mind was too focused on the constant phap phap phap of his hand beating against his manhood to register the footsteps that slowly neared the stall he occupied. a hand pressed against the unlocked door to fully expose levi's perversions to the open air. he looks up to see erwin staring down at him, a disappointed look coating the principle's face. no words were spoken as levi continued his assault on his cock. a broken cry left his lips as he threw his head back, eyes clamped shut as he felt his creamy cum shoot out onto his shirt and hand.

"really, levi?" his eyebrows furrowed as levi looked him dead in the eye. "the boy's bathroom?" levi groaned at his question, not bothering to answer before bending over and pulling up his pants. levi had no shame, and certainly not in front of erwin.

levi laughed as he wiped the cum off his hand with toilet paper. "would you prefer i did it in the girl's?" his bland retort left a dumbfounded erwin unable to move from where he stood. levi used that moment of shock to escape from the stall and out into the hallway. he was going to enjoy this newfound sense of freedom.

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reno2005 · 5 months ago

Text

Here comes the Sun

Reader x Leon S Kennedy(RE4 era)

Notes and things: You get a call while getting through a fever. Inspired by a moment in an episode of Columbo that I thought was really sweet. I suck at titles.

It’s warm and you feel comfortable. It’s actually too warm and you don’t feel that comfortable. You laid in bed with the tv on playing whatever the Youtube autoplay algorithm spat out next as your body fought a fever. You just woke up from what felt like the world’s longest recorded nap. As the heat became too overbearing, you pushed it off of you with whatever strength you could muster, revealing your Halloween pajamas from three years ago with the hole in the pocket.

With the blanket off your body cooled off just enough for your body to feel comfortable enough to start getting drowsy again. You sat up, using all of your strength and tried to focus enough to find the remote for the tv, you didn’t want to spend all day in bed and whatever video was playing needed to be changed post haste. As you dug around the blanket you were just buried in, you heard your ringtone go off. Your head turned towards the sound in curiosity. You had called out from work, no way you were answering that, and “he” was out at his work.

You picked up the phone and answered, forgetting to check the caller ID. “Hello?” You answered with curiosity buried in your raspy voice.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Your senses perked up as you recognized the voice of Leon. You could hear the sound of train tracks and rain in the background.

“Is this okay?” you asked shocked, your voice cracking with all of the phlegm in your throat.

“It’s all good. I have some down time.” His voice was a bit soft. You could hear love and concern behind it. “You didn’t answer me though.”

“Ah well… awful.” You decided to be honest, he told you he always you to be with him, but at the same time you didn’t want him, to worry. “But I’ll be alright. I’m just trying to keep my eyes open. And change this video.” You began digging around the blanket again as you remembered your previous goal.

“You should get some rest.” Leon said sternly but with worry.

“I don’t want to sleep all day; I don’t want to be lazy.” You contested.

“You’re sick” Leon reminded you.

“But-“ You tried to object but were cut off quickly.

“No buts. Everyone deserves rest, even you.”

You were silent for a moment before you mustered up the courage to reply back. “What about you? I miss you.”

“How about if you get some rest, I’ll take a break and come home.” There was an odd bit of cheer in his voice you thought, but you also figured you had imagined it in your tired state.

You gave a soft laugh; all you could muster with your dry throat. “You’re just telling me that so I feel better.”

“Did it work?” You looked out the window as you heard him chuckle softly, the rain began to slowly die out. Suddenly you heard him fumbling with something. You were curious but the drowsiness was beginning to kick in again. “The sun is coming out” You heard him say suddenly, almost as if he was trying to keep you awake for just a bit longer.

You looked out the window with surprise, which did wake you up again, he was right. “How did you know?” You asked.

In your surprise and drowsiness, you didn’t even notice the approaching noise throughout the house. The bedroom door opened slowly and Leon’s head poked through. “Knock knock” you heard him say as cheerfully as he could in his deep almost always serious voice. He stepped inside but stayed near the door, remembering how adamant you were about not wanting to get him sick in the past.

Your eyes opened the widest they had since you’d first gotten sick. You both looked at each other with warm smiles for what felt like forever, both of your eyes conveying the love the hug would you couldn’t give would have shown. Suddenly you started laughing softly, trying to avoid hurting your throat.

Leon looked at you curiously, “what’s so funny?” he asked.

You cleared your throat to answer, you wanted him to hear you. “The sun really did come out.” You smiled at him again.

He chuckled as he looked to the side to hide his blushing cheeks. He looked back at you and smiled. “Yeah, I guess it did.” He said as he looked at you lovingly.

#Leon Kennedy x Reader #Leon Kennedy x GN! reader #Leon S Kennedy x reader #Leon S Kennedy x GN! reader #Leon Kennedy blurb #Leon Kennedy drabble

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nerdieforpedro · 1 year ago

Text

Get a room you two and BONE

Part two of the Roc & Doc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size OFC (Doc)

Rating: Mature only because of some of the banter.

This blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.7k

Summary: It’s been a month since “The Case of the Vanishing Pens” had been solved. Things have changed somewhat between Tim and Doc. Are they both okay? Turns out, friends can suck sometimes.

Warnings: bad TV references, teasing, theft, angst?, mention of murder and STD, friends being menaces, the trench coat, bad singing, a murder threat (affectionately)

Notes: Originally, part two was going to be 7k of words. 😅 That was way too long so we’ll have a part two and three. I am working toward something. We’ll all find out when I get there. I’m fond of trench coats now. 😎 A huge smooch to @lady-bess who beta read for me and had some hilarious commentary. 🤣

The top item from the “what should go missing next” poll is in here! The runner ups are in part three. 🤭

Dividers are by the ever lovely @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Tim Rockford Masterlist / Rock & Doc Series

You and the detective had dinner three times a week and tried to alternate who pays. Tim had you pay the first time but he insisted on paying the others. It’s been a month since “The Case of the Vanishing Pens.” You told Tim that his jokes were as old as Columbo. He was not amused. Tim told you that he’s a classic like Columbo, and you need to show respect. And honestly, he’s more like Kojak - able to find a parking space anywhere in LA. You choked on your shrimp fried rice while sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he patted your back to try and help the piece of shrimp go down, it eventually did.

“You’re not bald Rockford. Are you starting to go bald? Is that why you think you’re like Kojak?”, you asked, "going to start rocking three piece suits with a briefcase?”. Tim’s face freezes and he squints his eyes.

“I will kick you out of my car and leave you at this restaurant Doc. Don’t joke about a man’s hair.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Kojak would never. If you’re going to be mad about it, don’t compare yourself to a famous bald TV detective. Stick with Columbo Rockford.” The two of you grinned at each other. Since the pen incident, it’s become even easier to joke with Tim. You feel you’ve grown somewhat closer to him, but you still won’t ask him anything personal. He doesn’t ask you those types of questions either. It crosses an imaginary line you both have drawn for yourselves.

Tim had told you that you didn’t need to pay, he’d been teasing you for stealing his pens, though he still doesn’t fully buy it was just about a menu. You had also told him, “no, we’re both city employees getting shit pay. We gotta split it, Tim.” He laughed and reluctantly agreed. So the two of you started alternating tabs. Why would you offer to pay when you clearly have some unnamed grudge against him (in his mind anyway)? Is this a ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ sort of deal?

The answer doesn’t come to him as he finishes the last of his egg roll, some duck sauce is on his chin in his beard. With a moist towelette you pull from the depths of your tote bag, you dab his chin and succeed in getting the sauce off and making Tim re-evaluate what your end goal is. It’s too soft of a touch as you could have pushed his face as part of your teasing but you didn’t. You’ve given him small hip bumps in the autopsy room or even in your office. Those don’t feel intimate like this, maybe it’s because it’s his car or the lack of space. It’s dangerously close to the line he’s drawn in the sand with you. It’s times like these that Tim is thankful you don’t notice him clearing his throat or keeping his cafe brown eyes on you as you slurp your noodles. He’s thinking too much again.

Rockford ensures that you get back to your small car you call ‘the blueberry.’ The car suits your personality. It feels loud, quirky but not over the top, much like its owner. He never leaves before watching you pull out of the parking lot and make the right turn at the light. It’s then that he begins his own drive home. He sometimes has an inkling to text if you got home alright but he’s never texted you outside of work. Except the two times he picked you up tacos… alright, maybe it was four times, but limited to food options. Why is it so weird?

Rockford sighs at the orange streetlights ahead of the hood of his old Ford Crown Victoria. His mind is on you again, but it’s just because you spend a lot of time with each other and you look a hell of a lot better than any of his other partners. Well, you’re not his partner but it kinda feels like it when he talks out cases with you. Stevenson is a solid partner, but he’s wet behind the ears and still learning quite a bit. You, on the other hand, listen. Look at him with genuine interest with questions that tell him you were indeed hearing him. Tim is in his driveway wondering if you’ve already walked up the two flights of stairs to your apartment. He knows you like music but what else do you like?

“Shit.” Rockford gets out of his car and enters his home, dropping off his trench coat and shoes near the door. He stretches out on the couch and flips on the TV. There should be something to watch. An episode of Kojak is in progress with him parking perfectly, getting out of the car, bald head shining with a three piece suit and his briefcase. “What are the chances…?”

As promised, you brought him 4 boxes of pens over the months you’d been eating take out with him. He had nowhere to stick them and wondered if you were pranking him; you were not. You just felt bad about taking his pens for so long. You overdid it a bit, you explained and offered to hold some of them in your office. Tim declined and made room on the top of one of his file cabinets. Seeing something that you’d given him made him smile softly, before turning to face you, he cleared his throat and put his hands on those hips of his, saying he had work to do. You nodded and told him you’d see him around, you were sure there'd be more bodies to look at before long together. The detective sat at his desk and looked at the reports he needed to finish up, they suddenly seemed tedious. He’s wondering if he should have told you it would have been alright if you wanted to stay for a bit. Could have spoken to you while working on them to make the time go faster. Your absence is an issue for Tim. He’s got too many of those already.

Tim stopped by later in the evening to update you on what happened with the arsenic case. Turns out, the victim’s girlfriend had convinced him to become a pescatarian for better health. The girlfriend found out that the victim had two other lovers and had given them the clap (gonorrhea) in addition to her. The three happened to meet in the same clinic where they were getting tested. She had contacted those two after getting diagnosed as the name was different, but the physical description was the same as her boyfriend. It was then that the girlfriend started dosing his food to kill him. She told Tim and the other detectives that she wanted to watch him slowly die. She apparently laughed as they were taking her away in handcuffs.

You are engrossed in the details. Tim tells you the entire thing from beginning to end, he adds in tidbits from his notes that wouldn’t be in any of your reports. Despite looking like he was tired of everyone’s bullshit ninety percent of the time, the detective was rather animated in explaining the case to you. He walked back and forth in your office and then placed his hands on the back of a chair while leaning in to go over how the dots were connected between the seemingly unrelated people. If the man wasn’t a detective, he should be a voice actor or teacher…you’re sure there’s a suitable profession you’re forgetting in between the options, whatever would warrant people listening to him for a while.

Toward the end of Tim’s colorful retelling, Kim, one of the clerks and a friend of yours, stopped by the office. She was watching the two of you, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. She would have made a joke about you getting yourself in Tim’s trench coat but knew you wouldn’t forgive her for saying it in front of the man that you swear you only have respect and adoration for. Kim had tried to get you to understand your feelings, to at least see that you may want to spend time outside of work with the famed detective. The time may include an actual date at some point.

You’d always told her that it was because he’s always been respectful toward you, and that he came by your office when he didn’t need to. Like today. Kim was sure you hadn’t asked for any follow up on the case, yet here Rockford is telling you about it and you’re giving him all his attention. It’s annoying to watch the two of you. Sure he might be older than you, but it’s less than ten years and she’s sure he doesn’t talk to his ex-wife at all. At one point the precinct did think they were going to get back together shortly after you’d become the new medical examiner five years ago but nothing ever came of it. Not that Kim kept that close on an eye on things for you.Thankfully, there’s only been rumors of maybe some women here and there. Detective Rockford is one who stays holster deep in murders and crime. Kim did have to agree with you on one thing, those holsters are a damn good look on the man. She understands why your eyes linger on him. Kim preferred her men to be on the skinny side so she could toss them around a bit - she can be a bit rough at times.

Waiting until Tim seemed finished with his story, Kim knocked on the open door so the two of you would hear her.

“Hey Doc, Tim. What are you two crazy kids up to? Making some more dinner plans? Going to take it a step above take out and go to a place where there might be seats inside the restaurant?” The detective bit the side of his jaw which Kim was quick to notice and smirked. Like how does she not notice how bothered he is when anyone interrupts him speaking to her? Maybe Tim liked her stealing his pens? Hmm…that’s an idea.

Your face hardens at your friend’s joke and you start nervously pressing your hands together. At least it wasn’t the trenchcoat one she likes to make, thank goodness. Tim looked back at the door and stood up, shaking his head.

“Hey Kim. Just knew Doc would want to hear how the case turned out. I’m going to head out Doc. I’m going to go make sure Stevenson isn’t still working on the homicide from last week. He makes fun of my chicken scratch, but he types slow as hell for someone fifteen years younger than me. Good night Doc, don’t steal anymore pens. I know she’ll be your accomplice.” Rockford nods, gives you a smile and once at the doorway, cuts his eyes at Kira before leaving. Your friend slides by Tim as he exits and plops down across from you and snickering.

“Did the famed detective get a bit pissed at me because I came between him and his dear Doc? For shame and I guess I did know you were taking his pens. To be fair, I did tell you to stop several times.” She playfully tapped her own hand as if she was being reprimanded. You sat back in your chair and shook your head. She’s been teasing you about this for as long as you had stolen that man’s pens well after. Tim didn’t tease you as much anymore. Well, sometimes, but only when you got in the car and he asked to see your hands to make sure you didn’t remove anything from his glove box or console.

“Could you just drop it? Please…what did you come here for Kim?”.

“I came to remind you that this weekend is our friend’s engagement party. And before you start,” Kim reached out and took hold of Doc’s hand, “you’ve RSVPed, we bought an outfit a few weeks ago just for this party theme and I could give this back to one such man in a trench coat after you go.” Kim’s free hand exposed a little black book that Tim often carried everywhere for his notes. Your eyes are wide, it’s bad enough about the pens but it’s a funny joke now. His book?!

“Dammit Kim, you need to give it back now!” Kim is shocked at your growl and lets go of your hand, holding tighter to the book.

“No. You give it to him and say it fell out of his pocket or something. He has fifty places in that trench coat I could have been. I honestly think he likes it when you take his stuff.” She stood up and so did you, were you really going to fight her over this man’s book? “The fact that you’re this upset, proves my point. You need to talk to him, stop just watching him, have him take you to a place where you order and eat inside and maybe go to your place or his and-”

“Don’t finish that sentence. Just give me the book and maybe he won’t push for me to resign or be in a different county or something for harassment.” Your hands are on your head, running through how badly this could go. No matter how nice Tim is, taking that book is almost as bad as taking his tie or holsters. It’s a part of him. Though it would be kinda cool if you held it for a minute. No…no. You can’t go into that rabbit hole. That is reserved for when you’re in your apartment in your PJs and are sipping on some hot chocolate with some cookies.

“You just need to bone….be on the desk and bone…maybe he keeps the trench coat on while you bone…I know he’s wearing the holsters when you bone…maybe you pull the hair he still has while you bone…you grab his biceps while you bone…”. Kim is singing horribly off key and if you weren’t so frustrated and anxious you’d tell her to shut it. But you need a laugh to release the tension in your body so you do, doubled over on your desk. Kim drops the black book before you and kisses your forehead.

“You just need a push to talk to him and you're already a bit of a thief. Just slip his book in his car the next time you two eat and talk to him. It’s not like people in the department don’t date. That’s how the captain met his wife.” She pats your head. “They fought over a stapler, she threw it at him. He said she had an excellent throwing arm. Love was in the air.” Kim did a jazz hand flourish and you look up, rolling your eyes.

“I would rather not be violent with the man. And I will not…bone him. Gah, you made me say it.” You shake your head and sit back and sigh. “Just please don’t push it. Can I just stay in my safe little bubble, please? Daydream about the man, why can’t I do that? Why will you not let me do that?”

Kim sat back down and crossed her arms, sucking her teeth, “Real talk right now Doc. It’s not your job title that keeps you from talking to Tim. It’s that you’re scared that he might actually reciprocate your feelings and you may have to be in a relationship with a grown man with baggage, can hold a conversation with you and will be able to hold it down in the bedroom.” Your hands cover your face. You’re not discussing this at work. No…but you are. “Stop acting like you haven’t thought about it.” Kim laughs at your discomfort and embarrassment, but pauses to sneak a peek at her phone. “I would drop more truth bombs at you but I have to go. Tony’s here to pick me up. I will see you tomorrow and this weekend. Maybe one day you’ll have your detective use his investigative skills under a dress like that.”

“Please go to Tony before I have to call and tell him you're on my slab.”

“You’re too busy trying to find a way into a trench coat to worry about murdering me. Take care getting home.”

“I will never tell you anything again. Good night.”

Part One

Part Three

Keen moots who may want the trench coat on with nothing else 🧥:

@alltheglitterandtheroar @sin-djarin @morallyinept @yorksgirl @bitchwitch1981 @heareball @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @avastrasposts @clawdee @pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing @rhoorl @inept-the-magnificent @grogusmum @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey @laurfilijames @frenchiereading

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #Tim Rockford x plus size OFC #Rock & Doc #trench coat #thieves #A Nerdie fic

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damonjuicyscock · 1 year ago

Text

Playlist- Chapter 14: Shattered dreams (90s Noel Gallagher X Reader)

Pairing: 90s Noel Gallagher X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, pregnancy, a sad word starting with M and ending with age, language, a few spelling mistakes, maybe.

Words: 2805

Summary: Y/N is pregnant with Noel's baby. We follow her through her pregnancy journey that has its up and downs.

A/N: Heya Y'all ! Here's chapter 14, I hope you'll like it, as per usual. It's a chapter I found important (but very emotional), and the next one will be as well. You know I like to include societal subjects in my story, at first to sensibilize and also give a bit of action in the story. Some of you may even have gone through it and I hope it won't trigger you, that's not my goal. My goal is to provide visibility to subjects like this one, because it isn't taken seriously (at least not enough) and to entertain you.

Next part next weekend !

Love y'all, take care of yourselves !

Enjoy !

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And now you've given me, given me Nothing but shattered dreams, shattered dreams Feel like I could run away, run away From this empty heart”

August 11th 1996- Knebworth:

I’m pregnant Noel.

I saw his face light up, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen appear on his face.

Ye’re not joking right? Please, tell me ye’re not joking. He said, taking my hands in his

No I’m not. Should I understand you’re happy about these news? I answered, stunned

I’m the happiest man in the world! I’m so mad fer it, I’m going to be a dad!

He took me in his arms, holding me tight, and everything around us disappeared. I smiled, now relieved.

Before going on stage, Noel kissed me passionately and nailed it even more than usual. I hoped he wouldn’t say anything to anyone yet. But there’s someone to whom I couldn’t hide my condition. Because deep down, she already knew.

Seeing him sile so much and him being so happy, I bet you told him? Patsy asked

Told him what? I answered

About the baby growing in your stomach.

I smiled to myself.

Yeah, I told him. And he’s so goddamn happy about it. And so am I.

And I’m happy for you two! She said, taking me in her arms

I held her back, emotion starting to take over.

You’re going to be an auntie Patsy! I said, on the verge of tears, not believing my own words

August 12th 1996- Knebworth:

It was time for the afterparty, and I felt fit enough to attend, with Noel and a lot of people.

Please Noely, don’t tell anyone yet. I want to keep it for ourselves just a bit, okay? Except Liam. I’m going to tell him. I said

Why tell Liam and not the others?

Firstly, because he’s your brother, secondly because he’s my future brother-in-law and he’s also like my little brother and thirdly, Patsy already knows.

Wot? How does Patsy know?

Who do you think convinced me to take a pregnancy test?

Patsy.

Well done Columbo. Because she knows what it is to be pregnant. So, according to my symptoms, she knew why I was sick.

Noel nodded. I hadn’t smoked for an entire day, and I really needed a cigarette He saw me take my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and took it from me.

Hey! I exclaimed

No smoking. He said, sternly

I just can’t quit like that; it’s going to play on my nerves. Let me have a cigarette per day for a week, so I can get used to it. Please Noel, and I’ll stop.

He hesitated for a second and sighed.

Deal. One per day, not more. And I keep yer pack with me in case ye’d decide to smoke more. I’ll give ye yer cigarette of the day.

Okay chief. I said doing a military salute

Oh no, not ye too calling me that!

Later in the night, when everyone went to bed, I finally had my moment alone with my fiancé, in his arms.

Did you suspect I could be pregnant? I asked

Not a minute. I really thought you had the flu.

And so… how long has it been that you wanted to have a baby with me?

Since November 22nd 1983.

Ew, gross.

Why ew? He said, chuckling

We were literally 16 years old Noely!

I know! I mean… when we were 16, I was like not now but one day yes, I wanted to wait fer this because having a kid at 16 was out of the question, but I knew on this day that I wanted ye to be the mother to me children.

That’s cute. I’m soz I can’t say the same thing because I never really asked myself if I wanted to have children in general before yesterday.

And that’s okay. But if ye thought ‘bout it…

Yes Noely. I would want it to be you. And you’re going to be such a good dad.

At least I’ll do me best. I know what’s running in this little head of yers.

Oh yeah? What then?

Ye’re hesitating to ask me if I’m scared to be like me old man because I had a shitty father. And I’ll answer that I’m scared to become a father, like every parent would be, but I’m also mad fer it. And I’m not scared to be like him, because I’m not him and I’m not like him. And I’ll never be.

Well well… You know me by heart Noely.

Yea, I do.

At around 8 am, I woke up and felt really nauseous. I told myself I should get up and get some fresh air. So, I went outside.

I tried to breath to prevent me from vomiting but ended up throwing up anyway. I felt someone grab my hair and hold them for me. I thought it was Noel. But it wasn’t.

Still sick I see. A male voice said

Yeah, unfortunately. And it might last a bit.

What d’ye mean?

I finished throwing up first.

Sit down, we’re going to have a chat. And thank you for holding my hair by the way Li’.

Anytime.

We walked a bit and sat down under a tree, in the grass. I could see in Liam’s look that he was impatient to know.

So… what I mean is that something that wasn’t planned, at least not yet, happened. You’re going to be an uncle, Li’.

He smiled.

Really?

Yeah.

That’s so fucking cool! Oh, thank ye Y/N, I’m so happy ye’re the one our kid decided to fuck with!

I laughed.

Then thank him too!

Oh, I will, me. How long has it been?

I don’t know yet, I’ll be seeing a doctor once we’ll be back in London.

Good. I can’t wait fer this little one to show up so I can teach…

No Li’, not so soon. I laughed

Oh, ye’re not funny! He answered, rolling his eyes

August 23rd 1996- London:

We were back in London for a few days and for a gig that would take place on this night. And the only appointment I had was on this day. Noel wanted to come with me, but couldn’t miss soundcheck, and this for three reasons. Firstly, because he wanted this gig to be perfect. He always wanted to, and he could have missed an hour of it for other gigs, which leads us to reason number two: This gig would be the MTV unplugged one, meaning it would be recorded and the band worked really hard for this. Reason number three…. Liam let them down on this most important day. I had to separate the brothers who almost fought (again). Liam said he was “sick” and Noel didn’t believe it, and thought he was just hangovered, and though he didn’t mind it, he would have to do the job himself, meaning he couldn’t come with me to the appointment, and hated the fact Liam was lying and unpredictable. He wasn’t doing his job properly.

So here I was… but not alone, because Patsy didn’t want me to be alone during this important moment.

Not too stressed I hope? She asked, while we were in the waiting room

Just a bit. Not because I don’t like going to the doctor’s, I got used to it with years, but because I hope I’m not too far along, knowing I kept smoking and drinking.

You couldn’t have known. You were having your period and all that stuff…

Yes, but nausea and other symptoms should have alerted me. And yet, since I know it, my stomach just grew up and man, I look really fucking pregnant now.

She put her hand on mine.

It’s gonna be okay, I understand how you feel. I didn’t go through the same thing, but I’ve been pregnant, and I know how it feels. You’re still in shock and that’s perfectly normal. But don’t be scared. Everything will be fine.

A silence settled in. I had to get rid of a heavy load.

I’ve already been pregnant before Patsy.

She was shocked.

Really?

Yeah, a few years ago. It’s when Noel and I were separated. I was with a guy called Kenneth. He was beating me and a lot of other stuff.

Like…

Yeah, the sadly famous R word.

Oh, I’m sorry…

Don’t be. I’m fine now. I’m more than that. I’m the happiest bird in the world. I was a lot younger when it happened and not ready. Noel came back and not so long after, I was pregnant, and this baby was conceived during hard moments. Kenneth didn’t like Noel at all, he thought we were a bit too close for his taste. He was paranoid, thinking I was cheating on him, and he was taking advantage of it to take advantage of me and my body. When I told him I was expecting and that I wanted to keep the baby, he pushed me in the stairs and there was no baby anymore.

Oh my God…

And what I’m going to say is absolutely horrible to hear, but I felt sad and at the same time… relief. This child wasn’t meant to be. What could have had happened to his future with a father like Kenneth? Would he have beaten this child too? No, he was killed first. But… it was better this way. It’s as if for once… he’d protected someone from himself and especially with what happened afterwards… I know what I’m saying is absolutely horrifying but…

No. No, it isn’t. What is horrifying is what happened to you. Did you even, have time to mourn this baby?

Not at first. I had to be miss perfect, so I was like high functioning. But when Noel rescued me and the aftermath… I think that’s when I did it. A part of the depression mourned this baby. This is the biggest secret I’ve kept to myself and myself only. No one knows. Not even Noel.

And it’ll follow me to the grave. I’m so sorry and horrified you had to go through this. Noel is right when he calls you his warrior. Because this is what you are.

So yes, I lied to Noel. To protect him. I knew if I told him that he’ll run to the airport and take the first plane to Manchester to kill Kenneth. I thought about having kids before. But I stopped thinking about it since that particular day. And now, the baby I was bearing was all I wanted.

Hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time… What a fucking moving moment. I was in tears.

How… How far along am I? I asked

By the size of your baby, I’d say between 4 and 5 months. Let’s say something like 4 months and 3 weeks. And it seems like you’re having a healthy baby boy, I can already see it. Congratulations!

I was happy. All I needed to hear was said. The word healthy was ringing in my head.

I-Is it possible to print a screen shot? For me and the dad? Please?

Of course. The doctor answered, smiling

And once I had it between my hands, I couldn’t let go of it. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Examining and re-examining the little silhouette of the being that was growing in my stomach. To the point, Patsy was forced to tell me we arrived at the Royal Festival Hall. In the car, everything I was thinking about was “And now? how will he look? What name will we choose for this little one?”

I entered the building alone, as the cab left with Patsy who would be coming back to Liam. The guys were in the middle of rehearsals. The minute Noel saw me, he stopped playing and put his acoustic guitar aside before jumping off the stage and running towards me.

Tell me everything. He said, taking my hands in his

I handed him the ultrasound’s screenshot, and he took it.

I’m 4 months and 3 weeks pregnant. And…

And?

And we’re having a baby boy.

Noel jumped in joy and held me in his arms.

Guys, I’m going to be a dad and it’s a boy! He shouted

The boys cheered, happy for us. I looked at Noel, surprised.

Noel…

Soz, I couldn’t help it. And anyway, everyone can see you’re pregnant now!

Jacob!

No.

Romeo!

Out of question.

Milton?

Oh come on, don’t grandpa him yet!

Martin.

Ye can do better.

Owen.

Too American fer me.

Oh come on Noel, we have to decide! I said

Ye’re only 5 months pregnant! We’ve got time fer this!

Actually it’s 4 months and 3 weeks and the baby will be born tomorrow if we let time go by.

Nevermind.

Hey no! My baby’s name won’t go with a simple and jaded nevermind!

Alright, alright. Can I propose one?

I’m all ears.

Frederick. Like imagine, we could call him Freddie Gallagher. A rockstar’s name fer a rockstar’s son.

Noely, I love you and I love Freddie Mercury but no.

Or Simon, what d’ye think about Simon?

Cute but it sounds a bit too much like Simon Lebon. But as a second name, why not? What about Andrew?

Andrew Simon Gallagher… Andy Gallagher… Yea. Yea, actually I like it. It sounds good. Deal.

See? A nevermind can quickly become an Andy.

Oh, shut yer cake ole.

Sometimes, it feels like happiness comes with a price. And everything you were happy about and everything you had planned ends up in a shattered dream. I knew something was wrong when it was going too well.

October 12th 1996- London:

Terrible cramps woke me up. It hurt. I hadn’t felt the baby move for a few hours now. I thought he fell asleep after giving a long series of kicks. I sat on the edge of the bed. I put my hand on my belly. I knew. I felt something was wrong deep inside. Then I felt something humid between my legs. I turned the light on. I was bleeding. It wasn’t a pool, but enough to make me panic.

Noel! Noel fucking wake up I’m bleeding! I yelled

Noel woke up, startling and saw. The man never had his driver license, so he was forced to call 999, and an ambulance took us to the hospital.

I was panicking. But not for my life. And I was right to do so. The doctors made some exams, including ultrasound. This is when the biggest heartbreak of my entire life happened. I previously told you that hearing your baby’s heartbeat is really moving. Then Heartbeat turns to heartbreak. But before turning to heartbreak, it turns to fucking heartache. My baby had been suffering. He had been kicking non-stop to alert me something was wrong. And I didn’t get it. His little heart had stopped beating and It was my entire fault.

But one of the hardest things was that I had to wait. I had to wait for my fucking cervix to dilate, not to give birth but to literally expel my own son from my womb.

Noel was by my side. I didn’t want him to see this, but he didn’t want me to be alone during this hard ordeal. And then we saw why after the “delivery”. One fucking reason. But an evident one. A knot. A knot in the umbilical cord. My son died of hypoxia. This is very rare event, as not all knots are dangerous. But this one…

And it was as if my body detected our little one’s death and started to try to expel him, but he was already too big to pass.

Apart from that tragical event, he was perfect. He had no deformities. And even if he had, I would still have loved him the same.

I was devastated, and so was Noel.

I insisted to hold Andy in my arms for a few minutes, to say goodbye. Noel and I cried, for a long time. We both kissed his little head. A shattered dream and two broken hearts.

#noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher fanfic #liam and noel #noel gallagher oneshot #noel gallagher fluff #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #oasis #oasis band #britpop #90s liam gallagher #90s noel gallagher #liam gallagher x reader #Spotify

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

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Private detective my beloved X Thief reader!

Setting; It's about midnight in Moscow, you're slightly unsure of where you're going but you know your goal is to steal a prestigious art piece...a fake prestigious art piece. Which you just so happen to want to restore to the museum. Art being important culturally and historically, it's often more times than not a big part of your job.

You take a left turn and bump into a tall cloaked figure. You go to excuse yourself before a voice which you know so well goes first.

"A bit cold to be in all that no?"

"I'm sorry that I'm not as tolerant of this type of weather as you are Detective, maybe you ought to go to Paris if you want high fashion over practicality" he grins, he always does when you answer back with a sly/snarky remark.

"Woah there, you might slice someone with words that sharp." He gently grabs your hand in his, you let him, you always do. Your gaze softens, he still smells the same, looks the same, he smiles the same.

"I know. I'm busy...and pressed" you say with a slight impatience which he sees as you having a hard night or what not.

"oh well glad to have you right here then, because you're under arrest. At least in the eyes of the agency, not mine" he says playfully with a hint of truth in his tone as he gets out his cuffs.

Yet before he can even manage to get a move on you, you get out of his hold and run away, sliding a piece of paper in his hand. Your hotel room number, cheeky.

-🪦 (He would be so handsome with his hair put back and a coat and and and-)

This is so cuteeeeee!!!! R slipping their hotel room number but not her hotel just to tease the living shit out him by making him investigate which hotel's they're in 😂😂😂😂😂

AHHHHH I AGREE HE'D LOOK SO HANDSOME! (columbo whomst?)

#ask answered #hobie thoughts #🪦 anon

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droogiesanddiscourse · 4 years ago

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Ohhh hi ily, but i would like to request something from the prompt list thing. :) I think 7. The cereal aisle at 2 AM with Columbo would be funny and cute :)

┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。#7 - The cereal aisle at 2 AM

"Sugar Crash"

Columbo's tiny frame stood amongst the aisles of rainbow-colored boxes, still dressed in his work clothing. His index and thumb tap thoughtfully on his chin, as if in deep contemplation. You've been in the same aisle now for over 15 minutes, the low drone of the fluorescent lights overhead the only audible sound of the near-deserted grocery store.

Being delegated the very important task of pushing the cart, you sleepily march behind your never-tired partner. Attempting to garner just a moment's rest as Columbo peruses the endless cereal options, you prop your head up on your elbow, closing your eyes for a second.

"Uh, which one of these was your favorite again?" His mannerisms never changed, either on or off duty.

"Gee, I can remember what it is, but for the life of me I can't remember the name of it. The one with the little leprechaun guy with the colorful marshmallows, right?"

You yawn, yet nod your head in the universal signal for yes.

He backtracks his thoughts for a minute, second guessing his memory for a moment, before shaking his head no firmly. "No, no that can't possibly be right. Wasn't it somethin'...somethin' with one of those funny little monsters on the cover? The ones that have like a ghost on em', called "boo-berry." See that's pretty clever, love that. I think that was your favorite, actually."

You nod your head again, really not paying too much attention to the words coming out of his mouth. At this point you'd agree to anything to get out of this high fructose purgatory. You can feel your conscious fading out, Columbo's words literally going in one ear and out the other.

He reaches his arm up, fingertips barely grasping the box of "Boo-Berry" cereal. He holds it up, inspecting the box and reading the label as if it was some incredible clue to his latest mystery.

"Would you look at that. 100 milligrams of calcium, ain't that something. Y'know, the doctor is always saying I need to get more calcium in my diet. Something about drinking more milk. Makes the bones strong. Oh and they got 500 grams of Vitamin A, that sounds pretty good to me. Ain't that the uhhh...the vitamin you get from the sun? Huh. Do you happen to know [Y/N}..." he trails off, noticing the way your body awkwardly hunches over the shopping cart in a pathetic attempt at getting some form of rest.

He smiles, one of those soft and sweet smiles that always makes your heart flutter.

"I guess you didn't hear any of that, did you?"

send a prompt + character from this list

#do I tag this #columbo x reader #columbo imagine #columbo Sunday #otp prompt game #500 words or less

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spidernoirfics · 5 years ago

Text

Late Night (Columbo x Reader)

A/N: I noticed the extreme lack of Columbo x Reader fics so decided to try and fix that. It’s not the best, but I tried.

You woke up to the sounds of paper shuffling as your husband grumbled to himself. You heard him lightly push his chair out as he got up to pace, as he usually did when he was thinking. From the light of the full moon shining through your blinds you could just barely make out the time on your clock; 3:24am. You were used to him waking up in the middle of the night, mulling over the loose ends of his mysteries.

“Frank?” You muttered, lazily turning under the covers to face him across the room.

“Don’t worry about me, doll,” Columbo smiled from the other side of the room. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll be back in bed soon.”

“Couldn’t you be back in bed now?” You yawned. You were barely even half awake. “You need sleep, too.”

You could see he was tired, too. Very tired. His eyes were half-closed, his hair a disheveled mess. He hadn’t even bothered to fully change out of his work clothes, his button down shirt half-open, and his tie undone around his neck.

“Yeah, I guess sleep’s important.”

He set his papers aside before taking off his shirt and laying next to you, yawning. You pulled some of your covers over him and closed your eyes. He laid still on his back. It was quiet. Peaceful.

“I just don’t get it...” He mumbled.

“Hm?” You quietly hummed. You barely processed what he even said. It was late.

“Why would he take off his ring in a place as busy as an amusement park?” He said. “Now, if it were our wedding ring, I would’ve either kept it on my finger.. Or, if I were really concerned about losing it, I would’ve put it into my pocket for safe keeping.”

“I’d like to think most people would be careful with their wedding ring..” You glanced at your own ring resting on the nightstand next to you.

“Wait a second..” Columbo mumbled to himself once more. “If the culprit didn’t leave fingerprints they were obviously wearing gloves... Would he be wearing the ring to begin with?”

“Maybe,” you paused to yawn and stretch your arm over him. “Maybe he lost his ring when he took off the glove.”

“That’s it!” He exclaimed. You jumped, startled. “Doll, you are a genius!” He kissed you fully on the lips before jumping up and writing something down in his notebook. “We find the glove, we find the ring!”

“Frank, come back to bed.”

“Alright, darling, I’m coming.” He finished up his notes before curling up back into bed with you.

You close your eyes. You were certain he was about to fall asleep, too.

“Hey, doll? Just one more thing..”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“I love you.”

#columbo x reader #frank columbo x reader #columbo imagine #columbo

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do. You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.”

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it. Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends. You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs.

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.” You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved, you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful. She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

“Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.”

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away. It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

“You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way? Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way."

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath. "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk. “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben." You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

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