milkman x gn!reader
genre: suspense, thrill, a bit of action
summary: you're warned abt the recent doppelganger sightings around your town while you're home alone, unbeknownst to yourself that you'd be attacked by one of your neighbours, the milk man, as the two of you play a game of cat and mouse.
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"have you been warned by the recent doppelganger sightings?", from the other side of the phone, your bestfriend's voice resonated through the line, whilst you're rubbing your hands with soap by the kitchen counters. you had just finished eating dinner with your pet, and you have been living alone all by yourself since your grandparents allowed you to take over their property.
you take note of your bestfriend's words, brows furrowing until your glabella meets. of course, you are aware of what a doppelganger is, but the sudden phenomenon of its existence leaves you perplexed. or maybe, your bestfriend is joking around again? "doppelgangers? where'd you even hear that from? so silly...", you wipe your hands with a piece of cloth, awaiting her response.
"hear? i witnessed it myself, y/n. it's on the newsflash, residents are being attacked by doppelgangers! some being injured and some in critical condition, as said. y/n, you should be careful—"
your attention abruptly shifts towards your main door, and to the windows that was situated in both sides. you almost swore you heard a faint noise from outside, specifically near your porch. you remained silent, a series of shivers running through your nerves. "y/n? are you there?", your bestfriend's voice came out as a background noise, as you slowly saunter towards the window, with every movement you make being precise and calculated.
just then, your heart nearly escapes out of your chest upon seeing someone's silhouette by the porch. you couldn't see much since the window restricted you from doing so, and otherwise, whoever the hell that is might see you. "girl, call 911 immediately.", you whispered to your phone. "what? what's happening!? you're making me worried, y/n!" you halt from your tracks when your eyes catch sight of a familiar delivery box that was resting near the silhouette's feet. it was the daily delivery milkman! strangely, he usually delivers you the milk jugs every 6PM, and it's already past 2 hours.
"nevermind... just make sure to answer your phone as soon as i call you."
"what? you haven't—", you cut your bestfriend's line on end, quietly placing your phone down. you hesitated for a few more moments, but the knocking on the door interferes with your trail of thoughts. you weren't sure whether you'd believe your bestfriend's warnings since you haven't heard of the news yourself (well, because you don't watch the news...) or just get it over with and receive the milk jugs as fast as possible.
you puff out a nervous sigh, your hand slowly reaching out for the doorknob — as your fingers touched the cold metallic surface, you twisted the handle, opening the door and facing francis mosses himself. as always, he held a lackadaisical countenance for someone whose job is as mundane as delivering milk jugs to the same locations each day. nothing really changed in his appearance... he had the same lifeless eyes, with dark and deep bags underneath. his physique is attuned by the same milkman suit paired with his silly little iconic hat on top of his head, plus, he's towering over you.
before you were able to say anything, he speaks up, "sorry for the late delivery." with a monotonous tone. you try to scrutinize any unusual differences in his physiognomy, to compare them to the previous times he made deliveries for you. as much as you wanted to ignore your bestfriend's warnings at the back of your head, your subconscious couldn't help but to act a lot more wary. you watched as his eyes locked onto yours, then momentarily shifting to the inside corners of your house. "will you perhaps... let me in?"
your breath hitched, what kind of question was that? no sane human would have the guts to ask a fellow you barely know something so outright and personal. "oh. 'scuse me for being rude, i've just been really thirsty and worn out, a glass of water would help...", he explains, his hand going up to gesture to his adam's apple, with a silent plea in his sleepy eyes.
"ah—", you promptly take the milk jugs from his hand, avoiding any eye-contact. "if all you need is water, i'll bring it out for you then. please wait outside!" you lightheartedly cheer, trying to shake off the tension building up in the atmosphere. but as soon as you turn your back on him, you hear a thud, causing you to instinctively look over your shoulder.
francis's hand is leaning against the doorframe, while the other is behind him. his eyes became peculiarly darker than a moment ago, steadily aiming at you, as his foot is almost beyond the doorstep. "i'd also need to wash a part of me, so i'll really appreciate it if you let me in?" his lips are slightly parted, exposing a bit of his teeth.
"uh-" your head then became messy with all of the incoherent thoughts flowing, and the only thing certain to you right now was how alarmed you feel.
"please?", added he, taking one more step forward, his fingers crawling from the doorframe and to the flat wooden surface of the door itself, to fully lean his elbow against the frame as a way to support his figure.
that's it. your survival instincts have been provoked, this was too far for an ordinary milkman to be acting like this- almost trespassing your personal space, at that. you run to the kitchen island, and as you do so, the sound of rushing footsteps behind you had your adrenaline skyrocketing its maximum. you frantically search for any possible weapon, thus eventually grabbing a paring knife to aim it towards the milkman's doppelganger.
his agility outmatched yours, when he wraps his hand around your wrist to twist your forearm, forcing you to drop your weapon onto the cold tiles. "no, no, no, not so fast—" francis cooed, but there's no way you would let yourself die in a situation like this, so as soon as he planned on doing his next move, you raise your knee to hit his crotch.
"gghk!" that painful strike from you elicited a grunt out of him, you didn't hesitate to take advantage of his agony and kicked him down to the ground once more. your hands desperately reach for the knife again, as if it was the only thing that could keep you alive (well, technically it is.) grabbing ahold of it and positioning the tip near his eye.
at this point, you were hovering on top of him, with your knees painfully pressed against the floor. on the other hand, francis is still wincing from the attack he had to endure, his elbows angled against the tiles to keep his torso slanted from it. "try to move, i'll stab your forehead."
if you were to be honest, you weren't sure of what you had to do next. but as of now, you were sure that you gained the upper hand.
milkman doesn't say anything, he keeps his eyes on yours, as if he plans on burning your eyeballs with just the ominous power of his stare. you watched how the corners of his lips formed a smirk, also as if to mock your attempts. "playing games now?" he leans closer, but within a blink of an eye, plunging forward to yank your arm away and pinning you down the tiles, reversing the positions. surely, you didn't have the upper hand anymore.
"how do you feel being beneath me? like this?", he says, his fingertips lightly coasting up the skin of your face. you feel his touch on your ears, you didn't understand what he was trying to do, and you still attempt to escape from his grip. however, francis had no intention of letting you go. his fingers leave your ear, moving down to wrap around your throat. his grip is firm, that you could feel his nails subtly digging into the flesh of your neck, and you're starting to feel light-headed.
"i politely told you to let me in. if you only did, then..." you gasp for air, but you didn't fail to catch how his eyes were already widened and his pupils were contracted. the expression plastered on his visage resembling a mad psychopath's. "then this wouldn't have happened to you."
just as you embraced yourself to face death, everything went black and dead silent. though you still felt the hand around your neck, but his grip loosened. it took the both of you long enough to realize that a power outage within the whole neighbourhood had occured.
you muster up the courage and strength to push him off of you while he was still dumbfounded from the blackout. scurrying away, you feel his hand grab your ankle, but you were quick enough to give his face a hit, so you crawl up bristling and ran around the house.
it was hard for you to see much, but the moonlight seething through the blinds was enough for you to catch sight of the living room materializing before your scrutiny in the dark. the first thing you did was to hide in the small closet near the TV, praying that the odds will favour you and somehow trick the milkman that you went somewhere else.
you made sure to keep yourself quiet, hearing slow footsteps as you try to process where it came from and where it led to. the reverbating echoes of the steps indicated that he was heading upstairs, to your relief. you carefully push the closet door and step outside, wandering your eyes around the vicinity. each step you made towards the main door had your heart hammering against your chest, but shouldn't you feel advantaged that the doppelganger is now upstairs? the presence of the milkman still lingered even though he's not to be seen anymore.
your hand clutches onto your chest, upon coming into the realization of having to call your bestfriend. but where was your phone? you couldn't remember where you last left it due to how much you've been panicking. "fuck, fuck. i need to calm down—"
just then, you feel someone's hot breath brush against your nape, and a strong sense of presence just right around nearby. you stop, breathing heavily as your hands begin to tremble. ghostly fingers crawl up to your arm up until your shoulder, and his breathing is getting slow on your ear. slowly, your eyes move to the mirror adjacent to where you were standing.
and then, you see him standing behind you. you take note of how the hat he wore moments prior was no longer on top of his head, and you could see that his hair is slightly disheveled from all the chase you've been doing.
"ngh—!", you squeak in surprise, but he was fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand. he looks at you through the mirror, and you look at how he had the same smirk from earlier. it was inhumanely impossible, but you swore to yourself that you could see a blood-red glint lurking beneath his irises.
"shhh."
he pulls your waist, forcing you to face him and your faces had never been this close before. the proximity makes your blood rise all the way up to your face, for some other reason you couldn't pinpoint out. you couldn't quite distinguish his features that much from the darkness, but you were able to see the shadows and the contrasts in his face.
"would you want to see my real form?", his eyebrows are tilted, creases forming in between. "it seems you do, you keep testing my patience." there was a subtle hiss through his whispers, as he pushes you down the nearest chair, pulling a groan out of your throat.
there was an undeniable tension jostling through and through, maybe even a sexual one, at that. from the amount of intimate physical touching that he's done on you, and the way francis's predatory gaze constantly skim through your body. while you're just right there, being helpless and facing no other choice but to submit. otherwise he'll use that larger knife in his hand on you, wait, since when did he have that?
"please..." you beg through gritted teeth, clutching onto the fabric of the sofa you're on.
"please." he repeats, mocking you with a pleading face that came much more convincing than yours. he's leaning forward, looking like he's the one hovering on you allover again.
you close your eyes, pursing your lips against one another. but as soon as francis makes yet another move, the wail of the siren pierces the tranquility of the neighbourhood, echoing off the silence. as the police cars prowls past, its pulsating hues of crimson and blue seeths through the windows of your house.
you open your eyes, is that the police? are they here to save you? all of the sudden, francis drops the weapon he's been holding, immediately kneeling on the ground and looking up at you, this time, with a genuine plea.
"no, don't make me go. please."
it's too late, the doppelganger has been caught. and the chase had now come to an end.
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Lost on You - Part 2
Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader
Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.
AN: As you can see, I switched up the posting schedule slightly (check out the series masterlist for new "coming soon" dates). Thank you, guys so much for all the responses on Part 1! I hope you have just as much fun with Part 2. 😉
Word Count: 5.9K
Tags/Warnings: "Lies, lies, lies, yeah." ‘80s references, a new mission (and violence), cattiness, and some more cat and mouse tension.
🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist
Part 2: Foolish Game
“You know, we really are a family here. The whole Payback team,” Crimson Countess said.
Her voice was filled with earnestness as she held the microphone to her ruby red lips with both gloved hands. She smiled and reached out a hand to you.
“But it’s truly my pleasure to welcome Sirena into the fold. It’s about time we got another badass chick on the team, am I right?”
She knew how to play up the packed crowd in the auditorium. They roused with cheers and clapping, and you stepped closer to her in the spotlight.
It wasn’t entirely an act when you gave them (and several cameras) a somewhat shy smile. You’d been on stages almost all your life, but never one like this. You knew you were being seen by the entire country right now.
On Countess’s other side was Soldier Boy and the TNT Twins, while on your side stood Black Noir, Swatto, and Mindstorm keeping himself in the back. Off at the far left of the stage were Arthur and Madelyn Stillwell, both seemingly patient and professional.
“And you look great, hun. I love the new suit,” Countess said, gesturing at you with a playful air.
You smiled a little more and affected some humility. You tried not to adjust the black mask sitting on the bridge of your nose. It felt like a pair of pool goggles.
“Well, a little leather goes a long way,” you joked into your own mic. It earned some laughs from the sea of flashing lights amidst darkness.
Countess laughed, a sultry sound. “I know that’s right.”
“I’m really just so grateful to be here on this incredible stage with you all,” you said, casting a hand at the rest of the team. “I’m just a girl from a dusty little town in Indiana. Seriously. Imagine Smallville, Kansas, but more tumbleweeds.”
Cue more indulgent laughter. The lie was well-rehearsed on your tongue, along with this next bit, as you looked into the closest camera.
“But if you all see some small greatness in me, then I’m honored and ready to serve,” you finished.
Enthusiastic applause met the end of your little speech. You smiled and lowered the mic. Countess nodded in agreement and offered her mic to Soldier Boy next. He stepped up to the center podium and leaned on it like he was John Wayne.
“Well, it’s a good day when another hero joins our ranks. I have a feeling that Sirena,” he paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “Is gonna be a good fit.”
You didn’t like that smile on his face, but instead of letting that show on yours, you gave him a grateful smile. He had the gall to wink at you. Then he handed the mic back to Arthur and stepped back from the podium.
“All right, one more time, you guys. Let’s hear it for Sirena!” Arthur said to the crowd, and they erupted. You accepted the praise with a demure smile and a congenial wave, like you were Princess Diana or something.
The rest of your team gave perfunctory claps as well, but Soldier Boy was the first to head off stage. Countess and the rest of them followed suit, so you did as well. She and Soldier Boy didn’t even share a glance when she stopped off into the women’s restroom. An idea struck you, and you decided to join her.
“Hey, Countess,” you began to say, but she let out a humorless huff.
“What, are you going to follow me into the fucking stall?” she said dryly.
You were momentarily taken aback by her acidity. You blinked, and she turned to give you a bored look.
“I…just wanted to say that I really look up to you,” you said.
“Do you?” she asked, with a slightly mocking smile. Her gaze briefly ran down your form. “Is that why your suit looks like a Dollar Store knockoff of mine?”
Ah…okay, you thought. You saw what this bitch was about. She’d supported you in the public eye, but she didn’t actually want another woman on the team. She’d been a powerhouse for over a decade, and not just her years at Vought.
But for every icon, there’s the threat of becoming an old has-been, you thought.
“Well, you’ve got a point there. I asked for a cape too, but they thought it was a bit too…retro,” you remarked, hinting at a smile as you gestured at her suit, and the long red cape that draped down her back. “But really, I’m a big fan. I actually grew up watching you when I was a kid. I remember that little documentary you did with Vought Geographic. The one with the baby chimps? So cute.”
Countess’s brow twitched, ever so slightly. Both her fake smile and yours remained the same.
She broke first with a roll of her eyes.
“Just stay out of my way,” she said. Her cape brushed your arm as she breezed past you. Your smile remained until she was out of the room. Then you took a deep breath.
Be careful, you reminded yourself. You had to prove that you wouldn’t easily bend to whatever bullshit might get thrown at you, but you were still the rookie here. You had a feeling that this was just the first test of many.
You kept your guard up, even at the afterparty hosted at a nearby hotel. Tessa followed Countess’s lead and gave you fake smiles when you passed by her. Otherwise, she ignored you. Mindstorm was the only one who seemed truly indifferent towards you. (You barely ever saw him out of his room anyway.)
You couldn’t much tell with Black Noir. He’d never taken his helmet off in the few days since you’d met him, but you sensed nothing but vague interest from him. The other three men were more obvious in the way they looked at you.
In fact, you could’ve predicted the way Soldier Boy found you in a slightly quieter corner of the banquet hall. His gait was relaxed and arrogant as he made his way towards you.
He annoyed you on sight, no matter how damn attractive he was. All broad shouldered and brown hair coiffed, his face mostly clean shaven, save for some stubble. With his military green supe suit, the silver decal of an eagle stretched across his broad chest—he certainly looked the part of America’s first hero. Too bad he was also a chauvinistic ass.
But you also had a plan. It had started to form after that first encounter with him in the break room.
You kept your true thoughts off your face as you turned to greet him. He was holding his fifth tumbler of whiskey, and he smelled like it too. You sipped at a glass of red wine.
“Small town girl, huh?” he said, smiling with old-world charm. “I happen to be a city boy.”
“Born and raised in South Detroit?” you teased. “I didn’t take you for a Journey fan.”
“The mean streets of Philly, actually,” he said, with a tip of his imaginary hat. “I may be a Sinatra kind of guy, but I don’t mind a little rock ‘n roll.”
You inclined your head. “Same here. Not that my parents approved. Growing up, I had to hide my Rolling Stones records under the bed.”
That much was true.
“Ah, a little rebel,” he remarked. His gaze roamed down your form, and back up to your eyes, shaded by smokey makeup. “Who knew they made ‘em like you in Indiana.”
Your lips curved. “It’s not just cows and cornfields.”
“Evidently,” he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. “How do you like the big city so far?”
“To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet. This whole thing has been a whirlwind,” you said.
Lie.
The truth was, you were born and raised in Brooklyn. Maybe you had never lived in Manhattan before, but you were no stranger to the city.
Ben not only ate up the lie; he took the bait.
“Maybe I’ll give you a tour of the city one day,” he said. He thumbed at your chin once again with half-gloved fingers.
You tipped your face up to him, and you smiled.
“I’d like that.”
Your first mission with Payback was not at all what you expected.
To start with, you’d expected to do some patrolling, run down some leads, do some investigating. Instead, they had a Surveillance & Security team to do all of that for the team. Plus, they were patched in via the local police scanner of any new crimes in progress.
Arthur had paged you to come to his office. There he told you that you’d actually be going for your first save today. You were excited, until he told you that you’d be on a “team up” with Crimson Countess.
Great, you thought.
She didn’t look happy about it either, when you met her in the lobby downstairs. She gave you another frigid look before she swiftly exited the double doors.
Stay out of my way. You got the message loud and clear.
A black SUV took you two to the Lower West Side, where there was a robbery in progress. The front window of the jewelry story had been shattered, and tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen by two masked men according to the store clerk. He’d been shot in the shoulder before the men took off. The police had yet to find them.
The most unnerving part of this was the cameras that followed you and Countess while you canvassed the area—like catching criminals was some kind of reality show.
“I think I can feel them,” you said, with your fingers on your temples. “They’re headed south through the alley.”
“Which alley?” she asked, waving a hand at the several blocks ahead of you. “And what do you mean you can feel them?”
You shot her a look, endeavoring not to be snarky. “I can sense them.”
Let’s just say, your powers were particularly potent when it came to men. That’s what allowed you to feel the robbers’ energies, set high with adrenaline. They were close.
You pointed the way, and Countess begrudgingly went along with it.
“Follow my lead though,” she said.
You agreed in the moment, but you were filled with maybe too much anticipation and excitement yourself when you turned the corner into the alley without waiting for your companion.
You found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.
You froze, your breath stilling in your lungs. The safety clicked, and the man holding the weapon quirked his head.
“Haven’t seen you before,” he drawled.
“But you know me. Don’t you, handsome?”
Countess’s fist landed squarely across the man’s jaw. He yelped as the weapon clattered out of his hand. You jumped back as the gun fired, ricochetting off the brick wall. Countess rolled her eyes and tossed a fireball at the next man, who jumped out of his hiding place behind the dumpster. He screamed and dove to the side.
She didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing him by the collar with a gloved hand, she threw one hard punch that broke the man’s jaw. You winced at the telltale cracking sound. The other man just held his hands up in surrender, wide-eyed and afraid. You felt his fear radiating off of him. With another swift punch, she knocked him out as well.
You could only stand there with your mouth open in surprise. You managed to close it when Countess turned your way.
“I told you to follow my damn lead,” she said coolly.
The police filtered in shortly after, as did the camera crew. The director sighed at Countess.
“This was supposed to be Sirena’s first save,” he said. Countess turned to him with a sharp look.
“Train her fucking better then,” she snapped.
You chewed the inside of your lip, but you fought not to outwardly show your embarrassment. Why’d they have to partner you with her, for fuck’s sake?
The car ride back to the Tower was just as tense and silent. At least there was a black partition between you two in the backseat and the driver.
Finally, you sighed and tried to offer an olive branch.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just got a bit excited,” you said.
“You almost got yourself killed,” she drawled, not even looking at you as she gazed boredly out the window. “Even that would’ve been a challenge for the PR team.”
Your lips pursed in irritation. Oh, my God. Is she that insecure?
“Countess, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”
“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”
You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.
“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”
The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger. She glared at you tightly.
“He may have his little toys, but they never last long,” she said pointedly. “The only reason he’s giving you the time of day is because you’re new, and shiny, and full of silicon.”
“And young,” you added with a wink. “Don’t forget young.”
She seethed, and you were almost concerned that she might toss a fireball your way. Mercifully, the car rolled to a stop in the back entrance to the Tower to make it easier to navigate past any paparazzi. You slid out on your side, and you didn’t bother waiting for Countess when you went back inside the Tower.
All the way back up the elevator to your floor, you thought about the way you’d frozen at the sight of the man’s gun. You did have proper combat training. Your dad had paid for the lessons.
“You’re gonna pay us back one day,” as he’d said. “We’re investing in our future, just as much as yours.”
You shook your head and sighed. You should have grabbed the robber’s arm and reached for any flash of skin you could touch to compel him into submission.
The thought continued to unsettle you as you went into the breakroom first for something to eat. You ended up making yourself a sandwich and sat down at the nearby dining table with an unsweetened tea. Swatto happened to fly in for a coke and an old slice of pizza. When he noticed you, his insect-like wings folded back into his back after he landed on the ground.
Out of everyone, his suit looked the most cumbersome with the big shoulder armor and the condom-like mask over half his face. You understood why he wasn’t wearing it now. He was dressed down in an old Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his short hair and slid into the chair closest to you.
“Hey. How’s it going, beautiful?” he asked, with what was likely meant to be a charming smile.
You were close enough to sense his salacious thoughts. You restrained a sigh. Ordinarily you’d entertain him a bit more, but frankly, he was making a bad day worse and you weren’t in the mood.
So you smiled. While your hand slid over his on the table, you leaned in close to his ear.
“Shoo, fly,” you said. Your words held power as your eyes glowed violet.
Immediately, you felt the way Swatto’s body sat up straighter. With a blankness falling over his face, he got up from the table and left the way he came, forgetting his snacks on the table.
You shook your head and continued eating your sandwich in peace.
A few minutes later, there came an even rarer sighting—Mindstorm snuck into the breakroom next. He glanced at you with wary eyes, like a deer pausing before it took a drink from the pool. When you just stared at him in slight bewilderment, he quickly rucked through the cupboards for a bag of Bugles labeled:
MINDSTORM’S – DO NOT EAT!
As if anyone would want to steal a bag of Bugles.
Just when you opened your mouth to offer him some kind of greeting, Mindstorm quickly ducked out of the room. You blinked in confusion.
“Odd,” you said to yourself. “So very odd.”
“Right?” came a voice behind you. You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, but you realized it was only Black Noir, holding a beer.
“Jesus…” You held a hand over your beating heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck up on you like that. Can this guy wear a bell or something?
“Don’t mind him. He’s got a few dozen screws loose,” said Noir.
Unlike the other two, he was fully suited up. However, he took his helmet off and set it on the table so he could drink. You held in a breath, as you were pleasantly surprised to see the face of a handsome black man. It was the first time you’d ever seen him unmasked.
Wonder what else he’s hiding under there, you thought. Your gaze briefly dipped down his chest and strong-looking thighs.
You both chatted over small things at first. According to Noir, Mindstorm’s apartment was completely soundproof, but it didn’t do much good for the guy, since he had a hard time keeping people’s thoughts out of his head. You thought New York City was probably a terrible place for him to live, in that case.
“And you’re smalltown, right?” Noir asked.
You offered a half-smile. “Guilty.”
“Yeah, same here,” he said, raising his beer. “From a nowhere town in Georgia.”
For the first time, you felt slightly bad for keeping up the lie. Noir seemed like a decent guy so far. You clinked your iced tea with his beer.
“Well, Nowhere, it’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” you said.
You two drank for a bit in a comfortable silence, until he turned to you with curiosity in his dark brown eyes as he took you in.
“So, what made you want to join Payback? The pay, or the free shit?” he asked.
You quirked a smile. You decided to give him the easiest answer he’d believe.
“Well, the free shit is a big perk. But…as vapid as it sounds, I wanted to get out of the background, make a name for myself,” you said. Noir nodded.
“Believe me, I get it. Around here, it can be hard to stand out,” he said. His brows knitted together while he stared hard at the table. You watched him, wondering what he meant.
After a beat, he perked up and met your gaze. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pitch a movie idea to Arthur.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, just trying to…you know, find the right words.”
Your expression eased, and you crossed your arms and turned towards him.
“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, waving at him in a bring it on gesture.
Noir’s brows popped up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not?” you said. “Give me your best elevator pitch.”
Black Noir stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his empty beer bottle as he went. You grabbed it so it wouldn’t tip over. You were amused by his slightly flustered state. He set his hands on his hips and couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he started speaking.
“So, I’m thinking it could be like 48 Hours meets Trading Places. Except instead of a wise-cracking criminal or a guy down on his luck, I’m like, a wise-cracking ninja.”
“But ninjas don’t typically talk, do they?” you said. Clearly this guy had a thing for Eddie Murphy. “Aren’t they supposed to be stealthy?”
Noir raised a finger. “Okay, yes, but it’s a comedy. So that’s the ironic part, in a funny way.”
“So you’ll make witty quips before you kill your targets?” you said, holding in a laugh. You brandished an invisible sword. “‘You’re gonna need a new carpet.’ Fshh.”
You mimed a cutting motion, then blood spraying from your neck as you made some mock death throes. Noir stared at you blandly. You bit your lip.
And you were the first one to break with a laugh. The sound was infectious enough to break him too though. Noir couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle along with you.
You were almost too distracted to hear a pair of heavy boots, and sense the male presence at the door. You turned at the flash of green in the corner of your eye.
Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete without Soldier Boy. Or Ben, as he’d insisted you call him.
His gaze roamed the room with feigned disinterest, but you could tell when he looked over at you and Noir that he wasn’t pleased. He clung to stoicism as he approached your table with his usual gait: calm, controlled, and arrogant.
“What’s going on in here?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “Could hear you all the way down the hall.”
“Just working on a pitch for Noir’s new movie,” you said, though the man in question gave you a hard stare. One that warned you to stop talking.
“Noir’s new movie?” Ben said, with a curl of his lip. He turned to the other man. “Trying to compete with Red Thunder before it’s even out in the box office? That’s not very good form.”
“No, no. Of course not,” said Noir. “Just…throwing some ideas around.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard. Some kind of samurai bullshit,” Ben said dryly. His green-eyed gaze was sharp, however. “Why don’t you stop wasting people’s time on tragic fucking ideas, and find something actually fucking useful to do.”
You watched carefully between the two men. Was there some kind of bad blood here?
Noir’s lips pursed, but despite the spark of anger in his eyes, he kept it all inside when he lowered them. He got up from the table and left without another word, putting on his helmet as he went.
Ben shook his head and drew closer to you. You frowned up at him as you stood and crossed your arms below your breasts.
“Well, that wasn’t very kind,” you remarked.
“This is the real world, sweetheart. He still needs to learn his place on this team,” Ben replied. But then, his charm was back. His face eased into a smile. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time I made good on my promise.”
You tilted your head. “What promise?”
“To take you out,” he said. “Give you a little tour of the city.”
After that little display, you had even less interest to spend any more time with this man than absolutely necessary…
Remember the plan, you reluctantly reminded yourself.
“Come on,” he prodded, extending a hand out to you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Releasing a breath, you uncrossed your arms and slipped your hand into his.
“Okay. I would appreciate you showing me around,” you said, giving him a smile with some feminine charm of your own.
His lips curved into a grin. He raised your hand up to his lips, and despite yourself, his stubble ignited small tingles across your skin.
“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said.
After taking the time to change out of your supe suit and into something dressier, reapplying your makeup and fixing up your hair, you met Ben downstairs out front. He was waiting for you there on a motorcycle, of all things.
“Really?” you asked, giving the vehicle a dubious look. “I thought you’d be a limo kind of guy.”
“Oh, I am. But today we need speed if we’re going to cover the whole city,” he said with a grin. He revved the engine, and it let out a loud, rumbling sound. It looked like a death trap.
“I don’t know, Ben,” you said, for the first time using his name. You were actually nervous enough to show it.
He chuckled and motioned you over. Reluctantly, you went to him. His hand smoothed down your arm and held your elbow. He peered into your eyes.
“You think I’m going to let you fall on my watch?” he said.
You held his gaze. Eventually, you bit your lower lip, and you accepted his offer of a helmet (even though he was going without one), then his helping hand to climb onto the motorcycle behind him. You tentatively held onto his waist.
“That ain’t gonna cut it, baby doll,” he said. He grabbed your hands and tugged you closer, until your arms wrapped around his middle. You made a small sound of surprise, feeling the solidness of his frame. You had a feeling he was grinning.
“All right, hold on,” he warned, revving the engine once again.
Your teeth clenched with dread. “Please, go slooow—ahhh!”
Ben peeled out of the curved landing in front of Vought Tower with a screech of tires. You gripped onto his jacket like a lifeline and pressed yourself to his back as closely as you could—something you were sure was his intention.
You sensed his amusement, though he at least had the decency not to laugh at you. He merged onto the street and zipped through the layers traffic, heading towards the center of the city.
Ben didn’t just show you the city. He showed you his world.
He first took you to Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. Instead of the normal group tour to the observational deck, he had a short chat with management that had them letting you two up to an even higher level, into an exclusive bar. It was apparently so high up that only twenty people could be inside at a time.
You two enjoyed a couple of drinks along with the amazing view of the city, and of Empire State across the way.
“You don’t get views like this in Indiana, do you?” Ben asked.
You nodded indulgently. “You do not.”
Never mind that you had never even been to Indiana. Yet, you had also never seen the city like this either.
“Thank you for taking me out like this,” you said. You reached out and softly touched his hand. You met his eyes with a subtle smile. “I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but you’ve been really nice to me. Makes me think I can actually belong here.”
He seemed pleased as he sipped his drink, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.
“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” he said.
You smiled, affecting demure as you ducked your head. It was an act you’d long ago perfected. Men tended to underestimate you, and you always used that to your advantage.
From there, he took you to clubs you’d never even knew existed, then to a restaurant so old, it still had a dress code. (And it was the best surf and turf you’d ever had in your life.)
When you got to Times Square, however, you were delayed practically an hour by all the fans who wanted Soldier Boy’s autograph. Once the first couple of young women recognized him, even out of his suit, it was all downhill as more and more people got excited by the world’s most famous superhero.
You stood off to the side, watching him be flirtatious to women of all ages, ruffling kids’ hair, and shaking hands with men, and even veterans who thanked him for his service.
You signed a couple of autographs and took some pictures with people yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be recognized as much. You had to be content with waiting for Ben off to the side. Though admittedly, you were getting bored and more than a little annoyed that he was taking so long.
He seemed to realize it when he finally looked your way.
“Hey, Sirena!” he called out to you by your supe name, drawing your attention in front of a few of his fans. He waved you over, and even introduced you to the small crowd still gathered around him. He set a hand on your lower back.
“I’m sure you all know about Sirena, the newest member of our team,” he said. You looked up at him with some measure of gratefulness. Maybe this part of the day was working in your favor even more than you’d thought.
You intentionally leaned closer to him, laying a semi-innocent hand on his arm as you smiled at the others.
“I’m taking some time to show her around,” he continued, glancing down at you. “She’s from a small town, so this city can be pretty daunting. But it’s my home. My favorite place in the world. Especially because I get to see all of you.”
He swept a hand out towards the crowd, and they ate it up with cheers, clapping, and some flirtatious whistling. He shot a wink and a raised finger at that one.
“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, with one last parting hand at the people. He ushered you back onto the motorcycle, and off you went.
He was trying his damndest.
He wore that fake, debonair charm like a second skin as he got you a private tour of the Met, and treated you to rich food and expensive wine. He was showing off his wealth, his fame, and giving you the “best” of him.
However, you had already seen glimpses of the true man underneath the gaudy show. And it was ugly, with an edge of darkness.
You had that thought in the back of your mind, even while you two sat side by side on a ledge. He’d brought you to a spot near the Hudson River, close to an overpass. It wasn’t an area meant for parking (according to the No Parking sign), but he didn’t seem to care.
Neither did you, really. The view was too beautiful, with the large orange sun halfway sunk below the water. It cast shades of yellow and red and purple across the sky, even over the dark waters.
Ben was working on his third hotdog. You were licking your way around a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone, letting the end of it swirl off your tongue. You resisted a smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on the side of your face.
“So tell me,” he said, after he finished off his snack. He crumpled his napkin and tossed it somewhere behind him. “I heard you were making a name for yourself as a singer. What made you want to join Payback?”
He was giving you a little too much credit. You’d been making your money by being a background singer for various artists, but your last big break going on Whitney Houston’s latest tour was what finally put you on Vought’s map.
You considered his question with a tilt of your head. Black Noir had asked you the same thing, more or less. You’d given him an easy, predictable answer. With Ben, you edged closer to the truth...or part of it, anyway.
“I don’t just want people to know who I am,” you said. “I want to be remembered for something good. I want to prove it to my family too, that I can do it. …Is that naïve?”
Ben hummed in understanding, though he shot you a certain look.
“Not if you play your cards right,” he said.
His leading tone didn’t surprise you. You slid him a smile.
“And how should I do that?” you asked. You turned to him, setting your finished cone aside. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and draw a line down your cheek with his thumb. He wiped a small smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.
He smirked. “By sticking close to me, baby doll.”
You had to admit, his proximity was stirring you more than you liked. He was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it too. With his face inching so close to yours, it was hard for you to remember the things this man had said about you to Arthur, how he clearly didn’t give a fuck about Countess, and even what a dick he'd been to Black Noir.
Not to mention, how he acted all the time, as if the whole world was his.
Just as his lips neared yours, you leaned back. Your eyes met his knowingly.
“You already have someone close to you,” you pointed out. “What about Countess?”
Ben stilled. He sighed, but he didn’t let go of your cheek. He traced your jawline with the sensuous promise of a practiced hand. It made your breath difficult in your lungs, rising into your throat.
“Ah, Donna,” he shook his head. “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now.”
I’m sure, you thought wryly.
“What you and I have, right here, right now,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. “It’s special. The moment I saw you, a pure connection.”
Your brows furrowed. Those words triggered some kind of familiarity in you. A pure connection…
Wait, isn’t that a line from one of his movies? you thought. Oh yeah, A Gentleman’s Promise. 1949.
You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter. This man did not just quote himself.
Ben took your reaction for a different kind of inner conflict, as he continued pressing tantalizing kisses down your neck. You cleared your throat a little, fighting a sigh of pleasure.
Stick to the plan, you thought.
Because he was right. The fastest way for you to get what you wanted was to be close to him, to use his status to your advantage. Timing was everything, however.
You slipped your hands between you two and pressed gently, but firm against his chest.
“Ben,” you implored.
You were grateful that he actually stopped. His lips stilled against your skin, and he pulled away with a frown.
“What?” he said.
You looked up at him through your lashes, before you leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips.
“Maybe I’ll consider your offer when there’s a real place for me by your side,” you said with a smile. Then you backed off.
You gathered yourself and stood, coyly sauntering back to the motorcycle. You’d wait for him there.
Ben turned to watch you go, unwilling to admit he was both equally aroused and irritated. His jaw clenched, then eased.
After a moment, he joined you and drove you back to the Tower in silence. All the while, he couldn’t stop thinking. About your lips, your eyes, your voice, your soft body, your smile, and worst of all, the way you’d denied him. For fuck’s sake, you’d given him an ultimatum.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had that kind of audacity, let alone a woman. He wouldn’t let show, or even admit to himself, how much it affected him. But the same thought kept turning through his mind as the streets of New York passed by in a blur.
Just who the fuck does she think she is?
AN: 😅 Lol Ben's got his work cut out for him. Think he'll be able to figure out her game?
Next Time:
“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.
You blinked your eyes wider. Really?
“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.
Ben's cocky smile said it all.
Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.
“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.
You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.
His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”
His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.
“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.
▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3
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