Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 500
little bit of something fluffy, let's all pretend that oz and vic are family forever and oz is capable of love ok? OK!? ok good💜🐧
commission work
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff, domestic cuteness
Once he’d knocked the door, Oswald turned to Victor, his eyes settling on him as he spoke in a hushed tone.
“When we get in there, you keep quiet. Speak when spoken to, alright, kid? Be polite.”
“Of course…”
They were welcomed in by your warm smile, your hands grabbing Victor’s in an introductory shake that was far from the cold, business-like introductions he’d made so far with Oswald’s inner circle. All you’d offered was your name, and Oswald hadn’t explained anything about you, but Victor liked you immediately. Your place smelled like sugar and spices, it was cosy and inviting. And when you mentioned that you were almost finished making cookies, he realised this was the nicest day he’d had since working for Oswald. Nothing bad was going to happen while he was here, he was sure of it.
He’d sat quietly on the edge of the sofa, looking around at the homemade decor that adorned the walls, interrupted as Oswald sat himself down next to him, leaning back and making himself comfortable. He looked at ease, no worries, no tension in the way he sat. So Victor tried to make some light conversation.
“So… this is your girl’s… place?”
Oswald knocked Victor’s arm with the back of his hand, a gentle smack, but one with assertion behind it.
“Hey, she’s not mine, and she’s not a girl. She’s my partner. Equal. Actually, know what kid, truth be told she’s a hell of a lot better than me, even if she won’t admit it.”
Victor looked forward, trying to figure out what Oswald was trying to say. He was always so wordy, and it took him a little longer to figure out what he was talking about most of the time, so he decided to risk another smack for some clarity.
“But …you’re d-dating her, right? She’s like… your girlfriend, or s-something?”
“Yeah, or something. Bit more, maybe even more than that some day, when I can get a minute to myself to plan it out.”
Another cryptic answer, but at least he knew now that you were more to Oswald than just a safe space to lay low for a while.
“She s-seems nice. Pretty.”
Oswald turned to him, his lip curling up, eyebrows sinking in a confused sneer.
“Pretty? You fuckin’ stupid, kid? She’s gorgeous. She’s wonderful. She’s- … she’s the best. You’ve never met someone like her kid, and trust me, you’ll be better off just having met her.”
You weren't sure if Oz knew you could hear him or not. He wasn’t shy about his affections towards you, but it was sweet to hear the way he talked about you to someone else.
“And wait till you taste these cookies. You think a mixed slush is good? This chick, I’m tellin’ ya. She’s something else.”
With a wide smile that pressed into your soft cheeks, you plated up the cookies, fresh from the oven, and carried them through to the living room other apartment, letting Oz choose one from the plate first, giggling as he winked at you as he took his first bite.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Tags: NSFW, Stripper, strip club, swearing, use of pet name (Baby, love), frank begging, softdom reader, virgin Frank, oral sex ( giving )
A/N: WHY IS THERE BARELY ANYTHING FOR HIM?! My first time writing him so bear with me. Please tell me if there are any errors.
Pt2? let me know!
The music was loud overhead, the sound of heels clicking on wood was even louder. There were strippers and lonely men everywhere, the bar, booths, the small rooms with the curtains and the sound of moaning could be heard from the back.
And in the middle of the club in a purple, sparkling bikini and six inch clear heels with a silver gun as the heel was you.
You made your usual rounds around the club, stealing glances of your friends and checking in with a few lone men.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you rounded the corner to a table of men. Drunk, unsteady and clearly the entitled type.
“Aye, come here.” one of the drunk man said, waving you over.
Mentally you were rolling your eyes but as part of your job you went over anyways.
They wanted the usual, a show so that’s what you gave them but not before they paid you a hundred.
Once the transaction was made and the bill was secure on the strip of your bikini did you begin to move your body. Your hands moved with practiced ease down your body, hands exploring, your breast, your slim waist, and down your long legs.
You let yourself get lost in the music, focusing on it instead of the drunk and entitled men in front of you.
You turned so your back was to them and bend over, showing off your long legs and giving them a sneak peak at your cleanly shaved cunt that was hidden behind your bikini bottoms.
As you shook your ass in their direction, something or rather someone caught your eye.
A man was sitting at the bar watching you, which wasn’t what caught your eye.
He was dressed in a dark grey suit, white button up with brown scuffed boots. But again that’s not what caught you, it was the black cloth like scarf that hid his lower face from view and the line of stitches across his forehead.
He also wasn’t looking at you like you were a piece of meat or with lust. He looked at you like you were an actually person, he looked at you like you were…beautiful. There was also a look of sadness that didn’t go unnoticed by you.
You finished your dance, keeping slight eye contact with him, not really even sparing a glance at the men as you made your way over to him.
When he saw you approach, it was like his body went still and he immediately ducked his head. He looked ashamed, no he almost looked scared.
“Hey, love. What your name?” you said, tilting your head slightly to try to catch his gaze but he only ducked his head farther.
It was quiet for a long moment as you stared at him, “Frank..” he said quietly that you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the club.
“M’sorry…i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or stare… I’m sorry.” he quickly added
“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” you told him, that seductive voice that you used for your clients slipping just a fraction.
“You mustn’t look at me. I am a monster and pitiful.” he added, stealing a small glance at you before hanging his head.
“You don’t look like a monster. And i don’t your think that you’re pitiful maybe just lonely.” You told him, raising your hand to his shoulder. You immediately felt him tense before slowly leaning into your touch like a broken animal finally getting some kindness.
Thats when you did something that you’ve never done before. You reached down to grab his hand, feeling the calloused and rough skin, pulling him out of the stool and towards the back of the club.
Not to a booth or one of the small rooms with just a curtain for privacy. To the back of the club where there was a heavy door that insured that there would be no interruptions.
You locked the door behind both you, sitting him down on the plush couch, watching the way his eyes looked back at yours with confusion.
You then stood before him, hands starting to move on yourself as you started to dance for him. And piece by piece you stripped down for him, which didn’t take very long since you were already almost nude.
You got down on your hands and knees, crawling over to him, keeping your eyes locked on his even as you sat between his spread knees.
“I…I don’t deserve this. I didn’t pay farther more I am nothing but a monster that people run from.”
“It’s on the house,” you said, keeping your eyes looked on his, “You look like you need this.”
He kept quiet for a long moments before finally, “Please..”
“Please what, baby? tell me what you want.”
“I…I want you. I want to be with you but…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he says, his head hanging once more, avoiding your eyes. You assumed that he had been rejected so much that he just learned to expect it even after all of this.
You looked down at his crotch, seeing his hands covering it like he was ashamed of his desired. This poor man, you thought.
“Then let me give you what you want.” you told him, your hand coming up to remove his from his crotch, his boner immediately coming into view.
He didn’t looked giant but he definitely wasn’t small. He looked a little above average.
You lifted you hand further to his belt, looking up at him for permission which he gave after a moment. You unbuckled him and pulled his slacks down, just enough to pull his cock out.
You were correct, definitely above average, thick and veiny. You felt yourself clench around nothing, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Nothing amused you like this anymore but this, him, he was different.
You wrapped a hand around him, already feeling the drizzle of pre cum smear on your fist. You stroked him once, stopping at the tip and rubbing your thumb slowly over the slit.
You then looked back at him. His eyes were focused on you, searching for any signs of disgust or discomfort but there were none in your eyes.
“You ever done this before?” you asked him. He looked confused for a moment before shaking his head.
“Anyone put their mouth on you?”
he shook his head.
“Ever been inside someone?”
He shook his head once more.
These were questions you asked every client before you put your mouth on them. It wasn’t in the club rules to do this but you’d be damed if you caught something and you knew how unkempt and dirty some men could be.
And clients that were desperate enough, you told them to go wash off in the small bathroom which they did with little to no questions.
“Good.” you said, flashing him a soft smile before leaning down and taking him into your mouth, having to open your mouth bigger than usual to accommodate how thick he was.
You sucked him off, wrapping your tongue around him, dragging it up his length which earned a loud whimper for him. He was vocal, something you loved in men.
You looked at him through the veil of your lashes, his mouth was ajar and his hazel depths were heavy lidded but focused on you like you were the only thing in the world.
Once again you felt yourself clench around nothing, looking back down and seeing the way his hands clutched the fabric of the couch, knuckles turning white.
This again surprised you. Most men would either be holding you down or pulling your hair but not him.
“Ca-can I touch y-you please? I’ll be good.” he muttered, the pleasure he was feeling clear by the way his voice had changed. Broken, shaky and breathless.
You hummed in response and with some hesitation, you felt his large hand rest on your cheek. It wasn’t rough, or demanding. It was gentle and sweet, like he was still scared even with permission.
A loud whimper escaped his lips that made you look up at him again, he was crying. Real tears. You didn’t know if it was because he was a virgin or something else but you didn’t question him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: A ruined wedding, a stranger in the night, and a love that defies the world.
TW: kidnapping
The night should have been filled with music and candlelight.
Instead, it was the sound of thunder that followed you into your bridal chamber.
The storm had begun as the ceremony ended, as though the heavens themselves refused to bless the vows that had been spoken.
You had seen it then, in your husband’s eyes.
The truth. Cruelty. It cut you like a blade. The smile he gave you had not reached his eyes.
Sent a shiver down your back.
You sat in front of the mirror in complete silence, your wedding gown heavy on your shoulders.
Your reflection looked frightened and small.
You were so lost in your thoughts, you did not hear the door open at first, only felt the faint rush of cold air that followed.
When you turned, he was there.
He was not a man of your world.
His figure filled the room, his face half in shadow, his clothes soaked through with rain. For one moment, you thought he was a ghost. Then his eyes met yours, and you knew he was alive.
“Do not scream,” he said softly. His voice was deep and rough. “I will not hurt you.”
You could not move.
He took a step closer, hands open at his sides.
“You do not belong here. He would have hurt you.”
You swallowed hard.
“Who are you?”
“A friend,” he answered. “Of sorts.”
Before you could speak again, the window shattered in the wind, and everything went black.
When you woke, the air smelled of pine and smoke.
You were lying in a bed softer than any you had known, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of earth.
You sat up.
The room was small, rustic, yet clean. A single fire burned in the hearth.
The door creaked open, and the man, the creature, entered. He carried a wooden tray.
“I thought you might wake hungry,” he said quietly. “There is bread, and broth.”
You stared at him.
“Where am I?”
“Safe,” he said simply.
You looked down, your heart racing.
“You took me from my home.”
“His home... I took you from a prison,” he corrected, his voice low but steady. “I saw what he was. What he would do. I could not stand by.”
You trembled, unsure whether to believe him.
“And if I wish to leave?”
“Then you may. When you are ready. The woods are wide and unkind, but I will not chain you.” he hesitated for a moment.
He left you then, as if he was afraid to breathe around you.
Days passed. You learned that the cottage stood deep within the forest, far from any village or road.
At first, you wanted nothing more than escape. But as you stood outside, in the harsh weather, you had to realise that if you left, you would die in those woods.
Yet as the days passed, you began to notice the small things about him.
For example, how carefully he moved, as if afraid of breaking the world. Or how gently he spoke, even when you did not answer. Or how he worked to repair the roof, or light the fire, or mend your torn dress.
He did not touch you. He barely looked at you.
But his presence filled every corner of that little house.
One evening, when the rain returned, you found him sitting by the fire, mending a chair.
His hands were large, scarred, and marked by old stitches, yet his touch was precise and delicate.
“Why do you live alone?” you asked, surprising yourself.
He looked up slowly.
“Because I am what the world fears. I was made by man’s hands and cursed by his hatred.”
You frowned.
“Cursed?”
He nodded.
“I was born without love. I could never deserve it.”
You said nothing for a long time. The fire cracked softly between you.
“I do not believe that,” you said.
His EYES lifted to yours.
“You should.”
“I do not,” you whispered.
That was the first night you stayed by the fire together.
The next day, you spoke again.
You told him of your childhood, your mother’s garden, the way you used to paint the sea from memory.
In turn, he told you of the mountains, the snow, the loneliness that shaped him. The more he spoke, the less monstrous he seemed.
During the evenings, you began to feel something that frightened you even more than his strength, something tender.
He brought you wildflowers, awkwardly arranged.
He repaired your shoes.
Once, when you burned your hand on the pot, he caught your wrist and pressed it to his lips in an instinctive gesture of care.
His touch was cold, but his voice shook as he spoke.
“Forgive me. I should have warned you.”
"It's... okay."
You looked at him then, truly looked. The scars no longer frightened you. They told a story of pain and endurance, not horror.
Weeks passed.
The fear that had first taken root in your heart slowly disappeared, replaced by something deeper and stronger.
One evening, you stood outside together, the night air cold around you.
The stars were bright above the trees. He watched them.
“I used to think they were souls,” he murmured. “The ones I lost. The ones who could never love me.”
You turned to him.
“And now?”
He looked at you.
“Now I think they are eyes. Watching me to see if I will ruin this, too.”
You stepped closer, your hand trembling as it reached for his.
“You will not.”
He caught your hand as if he were afraid you might vanish.
“You do not understand. I took you from your world. I do not deserve your kindness.”
You shook your head.
“You saved me from a life of cruelty and pain. Perhaps that was the only way I could ever be free.”
His breath shuddered. “You should hate me.”
“But I do not.”
When you kissed him, he went still.
His hands hovered near your face, uncertain, until at last they rested against your skin, you could feel that he was shaking.
The kiss was slow.
Afterwards, he drew back just enough to look at you. His voice was soft.
“If I hurt you, even by accident, I could not live.”
“You will not,” you said.
He lowered his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.
“Then I will spend my life proving it.”
And he did.
The days turned to months.
The forest bloomed around you, the house becoming a home built not from captivity, but from choice. His love remained fierce, protective, and at times overwhelming, but it was never cruel.
You learned to calm his storms with a touch, to remind him that he was not made for destruction, but for devotion.
So, I don't know why so many people are saying the opposite on internet...
But the connection between Elizabeth and the Creature is romantic. The fact that there's no kiss doesn't change that.
Guillermo del Toro literally talks about this scene ☝️ this way :
“That is their wedding,” del Toro explains. “Her dress is meant to evoke the bandages of Elsa Lanchester in the James Whale film. So the Bride is Elizabeth — and their love is impossible.” [...] “There is a beautiful marriage of souls in the film,” del Toro continues. “The creature gets a bride and loses her on the same day. They realize they're both alive and their love dies shortly thereafter. I think it's one of the most poignant ways to address the Bride aspect of the story.”
It's between the Creature and Elizabeth that there is a romantic nuance (more than that she also embodies his Bride).
Especially since Elizabeth feels close to the Creature because she herself feels like a Creature who is not of this world.
Worse, some people say that about Elizabeth & Victor :
Elizabeth and Victor have feelings for each other, but she was already engaged to someone else.
There is no romantic nuance between Elizabeth & Victor. At least not mutual. Victor is in love with Elizabeth. And with a certain perversion since she is literally the perfect replica of his own mother (it's the same actress who plays both roles). Elizabeth, for her part, hates Victor.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
synopsis: you and Ben have the marriage talk before he goes on the mission that changes his life forever.
pairings: Ben Grimm/fem!reader
warnings: a very slight suggestive moment, but nothing too detailed!
tags: hurt/comfort (i think?), romantic fluff, established relationship, not canon compliant? (idk, i’m new to the fantastic four fandom), appearance from Reed, Sue, and Johnny!
word count: 2.0k
song inspo: "my one and only love" by John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman
a/n: i walked into Fantastic Four knowing i would leave loving ben, and i was right! so here's a little one shot i wrote for him ♡ i'm trying to actually finish fics so i'm glad i got this done in a couple days, more to come :D
⋆⭒˚｡⋆
“What on Earth are you doing?”
You asked, giggling as Ben played with your fingers, your left hand in particular.
You two had been cuddling, trying to fall asleep but failing miserably, all too excited about what was going to happen in the morning. Ben was going to space, and you couldn’t be more proud of him.
He had his arm wrapped around you, your body molded against his side, your calves tangled beneath the sheets. A domestic bliss you couldn’t live without anymore.
“I’m trying to measure your ring size,” he said under his breath, a cocky grin on his face.
“And why is that?” you teased, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, watching as he ran his thumb over your ring finger.
“Just making sure my gramma’s ring will fit.”
An unbridled excitement settled under your skin. You propped yourself up on your elbow, raising an eyebrow as you locked eyes with him.
“You gonna propose when you come back?”
“I might,” he whispered, gently pushing some hair behind your ear. The big dopey grin that formed on your face made him chuckle. “You gonna say yes?”
“I might.”
A smitten, love sick sparkle flickers in his gaze, something that only happened when he was with you. He had known from the moment he met you that you were the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Hearing you reciprocate that nearly made his heart burst.
You giggle as he presses his lips to yours, hard. Like he’ll forget how you feel when he’s outside of Earth’s atmosphere and he needs to burn it into his skin. His hand slid under your shirt, pulling you against him, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his leg tangling with yours.
“I love you too,” you breathed back.
That moment replayed over and over again as you sat outside the medical wing.
Your foot bounced on the tile with every one of your heartbeats, never giving your anxiety any kind of relief.
All they would tell you is something went wrong while they were in the air. No one could get you an answer about Ben or anyone else, other than that you needed to wait. That killed you more than anything else.
You were the only next of kin they needed to call, which meant you were sitting in this hallway alone. Your thoughts were conjuring dark outcomes of what could have happened, and it only made you want to cry more.
Your only solace was when Reed stepped out to join you, looking completely fine.
Reed gently held your shoulders as you stood, a hesitant look on his face.
“I have tried to cure him, and I can’t,” he blubbered, genuine disappointment pouring from his eyes. “But I will not stop looking, I promise.”
You looked up at Johnny as he exited the lab, thankfully unharmed too, the solemn expression feeling foreign on his features.
“Is he okay?” you asked frantically, your eyebrows furrowing with worry.
“He’s as fine as he can be,” Johnny assured you gently, glancing back into the lab through the window, sighing. “He’s just scared.”
“Scared?” you breathed out, almost in disbelief. Your Ben Grimm? Scared? “Of what?”
“He’s just…kinda hard to look at right now.”
“Did he get hurt?” you pushed, your stomach knotting over itself.
“No, he’s just…”
Johnny and Reed fumbled for words, not making you feel better in any way whatsoever.
“You guys suck at this,” Sue’s voice cut through the noise, firm and steady. She took your hands in hers, grounding you like an anchor in a storm. “He might look a little different, but he’s still your Ben.”
“It’s more than a little,” Johnny muttered under his breath, recoiling as Reed hit him upside the head.
The conviction in Sue’s gaze was the only thing that calmed the anxiety running through your nerves. After a beat, you took a deep breath and nodded, pushing the lab door open with your shoulder.
You tried not to let your thoughts run wild.
Was he missing a limb? Was he horribly scarred?
Nothing could have prepared you for what you actually saw, and maybe you should have let your thoughts get wilder.
A big, orange, rocky form in the shape of a man, sitting in the biggest hospital gown you’ve ever seen. He seemed to be caving in on himself, hanging his head in shame.
As you got close enough, you heard him breathing, shaky and shallow.
You recognized him off that alone.
“Ben?” you asked quietly, and you watched him physically tense.
He hated that you had to ask.
That you couldn’t be 100% sure that the freak he had turned into was actually him or not. He would rather die than live through this moment.
You watched him close his eyes as you rounded the corner of the bed he was sitting on. He turned away from you like he’s waiting for you to yell, or cry, or run away in terror.
But you would never.
The man you loved was sitting in front of you ashamed, and it shattered you.
You slowly padded to stand in front of him, swallowing the lump in your throat as you looked at him. Cautiously, you reached out to hold the side of his face, only worried about how he might react. You weren’t scared of touching him, he was the love of your life.
He flinched, but he let you touch him anyway. Like he was grappling with the urge to run and the need to feel your touch again.
What met your hand wasn’t the soft, stubbled skin you were used to. It was warm, smooth rock, and it broke your heart even more.
You’d hoped this was a cruel nightmare, that Ben wouldn’t have to live what had been cursed upon him, but no.
Only when your thumb ran along his cheek, over cracks and uneven pieces, did he look you in the eye.
There they were.
Those blue eyes you’ve been admiring for three years straight.
You had watched them cry, darken, fall in love. They were the only part that was still really him, honestly.
Right then, they were filled with sorrow, and anger, and fear. You hated seeing his blue irises showing anything but joy.
“Are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, your other hand moving to his shoulder.
He let out a pained breath, a half-chuckle. Like you just asked something painfully obvious. He slowly lets his forehead rest on your sternum, his whole body tensing as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, tears gathering in your eyes as you hugged him tight. A sting crept up your throat at the way his body didn’t give with your embrace. It stayed taut, firm instead of melting against you. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
His hands form into fists at his sides, like he was holding himself back. He wanted to hug you, so badly, but he forced himself not to. He didn’t know his strength. He didn’t think he deserved it. He felt like a monster, and he didn’t even understand how you were hugging him in the first place.
“You can say no…” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear.
Your eyebrows furrowed, your cheek pressing into the top of his head, your hands idly running over his shoulders.
“What are you talking about?” you asked quietly, your hands moving to cradle the back of his head.
His hands gently settled on your waist, barely pushing you away from him, which just made your stomach drop further. The pain on his face was palpable as you pulled away.
“I wouldn’t…blame you,” he stopped mid sentence, as if it nearly killed him to say it. “If you didn’t want to marry me…”
Your face contorted with more hurt than you thought was possible.
Your breath shook as you wiped tears off his cheeks, your heart aching against your ribs as he looked at you again.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you sniffled, your lip shaking as you pressed your forehead to his.
“Honey,” he rasped, his hands tensing at your sides.
“No, Ben,” you insisted, pulling away just enough to look at him. “I love you so much, and I’m not leaving you, even if you think I should. I’m not.”
He finally broke hearing you say that.
He pressed his face into your hand, a jagged sound escaping him. Half breath, half sob.
His mouth trembled as it met your palm, his lips forming into a crumbling line. You gently guided him to look at you again, offering a soft smile as tears slid down your cheeks. His breath hitched in his throat, like it was cracking him from the inside.
Finally, finally, he wrapped his arms around you.
Surrounding you in warmth as he pulled you to his chest. That was familiar. That was your Ben, warm and comforting.
You sucked in a soft gasp as he pulled you off the ground, not even letting out a grunt of struggle. He tucked his head into your shoulder, the uneven edges of his shoulders hunched in on themselves, his body collapsing in silent devastation.
“I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin. His jaw tensed as his tears fell onto your sweater, his hand slowly running over your spine. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.”
Before his mission, he was sure he had fallen completely in love with you, but somehow, he’s fallen even harder. You were this piece of heaven he’s been lucky enough to have. So, he was going to ensure every waking second of his life was spent making sure he loved you unconditionally.
“I don’t know how to do this…” he whimpered into your collarbone, his hands clutching to your shirt like it was the only thing grounding him.
“We’ll figure it out,” you reassured him, your hand running over his back, trying to comfort him the best you can.
God, you were perfect.
If he ever prayed for a miracle, you must’ve been the one that showed up. He didn’t consider himself a good enough person to be with someone as lovely as you, but he’d be thanking God every day that he was blessed to have you anyway.
He pulled back, still close enough to feel your breath on his skin. He stared at you like you were something sacred, his hand hesitant as he reached up to cup your cheek. Something that used to be his instinct.
You knew what he was considering.
A lot has changed. What if it felt wrong now? What if he ruined it?
“Ben,” you whispered, catching his hand and guiding it to your face. “I’m right here.”
He held you like you were made of glass, hesitant even now. But he couldn’t stop himself when you leaned in, slow and tentative, so desperate to feel you again.
It wasn’t the kiss you remembered. It was rougher, firmer, like kissing stone. But, it was still him.
Still full of warmth, of every piece of love he’d ever given you.
His lips quivered against yours as the two of you tried to find your rhythm. After a few kisses, you knew he was getting in his head, pulling away before he could mess it up, but you didn’t let him get far.
“Cut it out,” you murmured, holding either side of his neck as you pulled him back, your lips pressing into his harder.
A barely there smile quipped on his lips.
That snappy attitude he was so used to felt like a beaconing light of safety.
He mumbled “sorry” between kisses, his hands sprawling over your back as he finally relaxed.
“You still have to ask me,” you reminded him, your nose nudging with his as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“I’d like to have pants on when I propose to you,” he remarked, his thumbs running over your ribcage. “Even if I sell out a tailor.”
You let out a snort, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Sue was right.
He might look a little different, but he was still your Ben.
