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illshowyourhurricanes · 4 years

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He Loves Me

Here, you’ll get another glimpse into the life of one non-gold digger, Mr. Benjamin Greene, in the form of another series of little moments that all leads up to something much bigger. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Image prompt 10: Benjamin Greene x reader (requested by the lovely @breanime)

Rating: PG-13ish for mentions of nudity

Word count: 1712

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

Follower event tag list: @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @witchygagirl @breanime

If anyone wants to be added to/removed from my tag list, please just send me an ask!

Special thanks to @the-blind-assassin-12 for beta reading a little bit of this one!

This is related to all other Benjamin Greene x reader fics, which can all be found in my masterlist.

You woke up smiling. Eyes swollen from sleep, you rubbed at them with balled up fists, clearing morning residue from the corners. Reaching upward, you wiggled your fingers as you stretched your arms, feeling the overnight stiffness melt away from your fingertips to your shoulder blades. Your eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight streaming in between the slats of the blinds covering your windows. Pale yellow light decorated the floor in long parallel lines, breaking up the shadows. Benjamin’s soft snores as his chest rose and fell were the only sounds hindering the house from complete silence. It was tranquil. Perfect.

Rolling onto your right side, you admired the beautiful bouquet of flowers Benjamin had surprised you with the night before. It was bright with spring blooms, pink tulips and pure white irises; pale peach miniature roses, striking orchids, and daffodils the color of the bright sunshine. Eucalyptus leaves and tiny blooms of sweet pea and chamomile as fillers, the arrangement was quite fragrant. It was colorful and different; definitely not the typical flower bouquet.

“I chose them all,” Benjamin had told you just after bursting in the door, the bouquet wrapped in paper, all long stems and pops of color and a kiss in greeting. “Nothing pre-arranged said Y/N.” He offered the bouquet to you, a slight flushing of his cheeks as he did so. “You’re stunning and remarkable and an amalgamation of beautiful things all mixed perfectly.” He nodded to the flowers, tickling your nose with sweet aromas. “They suit you; they're mostly wildflowers.”

Your eyes shone with awe and the threat of tears. The wrapping around Benjamin’s hand-picked array crinkled as you carefully accepted them. “You’ve stolen my words,” you said as you glanced down at the flowers. You’d have time to admire them later, but for the time being you were entirely enamored with Benjamin. “Have I forgotten something? Is today significant?” Your brows knitted together in worry as you searched your mind.

“No,” Benjamin said with a chuckle. “Just a Saturday.” He regarded your face, the top knot you wore your hair in, your old oversized university t-shirt and boxer shorts. “You’ve been working.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Just finished,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you. Let’s get them in a vase, yeah?” You held out the flowers for Benjamin to take, freeing your hands so you could rummage in the cupboards under the sink.

You climbed out of bed quietly, making an effort trying not to wake Benjamin. After making a cup of tea, you rummaged around making little to no noise until you found what you were looking for. Using your drawing board as a makeshift tray, you piled the remainder of your supplies on top: pastel paper, tape, and your collection of Prismacolor pastels, as well as colored pencils to outline. Your cup of tea was also precariously balanced atop; your mind had been so trained on your task at hand that you hadn’t thought about the clattering of the cup. Thankfully, Benjamin was a fairly heavy sleeper.

Once back in the bedroom, you smiled at you peeled over at Benjamin, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Carefully, you placed your drawing board on the floor before sitting down beside it, first placing your tea to the side after taking a sip. Your pastels were put to the side, colored pencils placed in your lap, and you tore off four tiny pieces of tape to secure your pastel paper to your drawing board. Smoothing your hand over the paper, you paid attention to the way it felt beneath your palm, the toothy surface of the paper that was akin to the feeling of sandpaper, only finer.

You gazed up at your bouquet. You'd all but memorized the way they were arranged in the case, which flowers had thicker stems, how bright the yellow of the daffodils were, how saturated the pink petals of the tulips, the shadows the larger blooms cast over the sweet pea and chamomile. Precariously, you opened the tin your pencils were arranged in, squinting your eyes as you regarded the flowers, then peering into your lap. Your pencils were just used for a rough sketching, an outlining of sorts that would be completely obscured by the pastels as you worked. It had been awhile since you’d been inspired to play with color, the time to mull over saturation and warmth versus cool, to meticulously muck over the stark difference it was to shadow with pastels instead of charcoal.

Your thoughts regarding color always started and ended with Benjamin’s eyes, the particular deep, warm brown of his irises, the chestnut undertones and flecks of gold within them. They were a color, you thought, that not even legendary artists could get just right. You loved the way they darkened even more with desire, when his mind was full of nothing except all the different ways he could devour you.

After about five minutes of sketching later, you looked up from your work and over to Benjamin, who was very much awake, just watching you. You’d been so immersed in your work, you’d missed the change in his breathing. He smiled at you, creases forming at the outer corners of his eyes. “Good morning, love. You should come back to bed.”

Benjamin’s smile was contagious. Since the two of you had met, his smile had always drawn out your own; the expression held with it warmth, affection, and sometimes a bit of mischief. Your smile was broken by laughter at Benjamin’s invitation.

“I’m working,” you said simply, still wearing a residual smile. Repositioning himself, Benjamin propped himself upward over the pillows. He glanced to the array of supplies around you, garnering that you were playing with color, and color had absolutely nothing to do with charcoal. He raised his brows just a shadow, yet you didn’t have to look up to witness it. You knew Benjamin Greene.

“Congratulations on the new job, Y/N! Now, come back to bed and allow me to congratulate you properly.” And there was that smile, the one with a bit of mischief mixed in.

Playing as if you were toying with the idea, you glanced longing over at your pastels, untouched as of yet. Without another word, you began clearing your lap of kelly green and sunshine yellow, candy apple red and tangerine orange. The pencils slid easily back into their tin container. You heard the rustling of bedsheets as you turned your back and bent to pile your things back into your old drawing board.

You righted yourself back upward and stretched toward the ceiling, straightening your spine. You turned back toward the bed, but were captured by a pair of strong arms instead. You hugged Benjamin tight around his middle and your eyelashes fluttered against his bare chest as he placed a lingering kiss to your crown.

“What are you working on, Ms. Kahlo?” Frieda, is it?” A warm breath of laughter followed the slight tickling of your eyelashes over his skin and Benjamin relished in those small, unconscious touches. He held you for a moment longer until you pulled back to nod toward your bouquet.

“Hand-picked flowers by a bloke called Benjamin… something-or-other. He has a good eye for colour, yeah? His name really should be renowned, the surname, too. Benjamin is just too common a name, but so is Britney and everyone knows when the name is uttered, exactly who you’re talking about… oh, baby, baby.”

Your impression left a lot to be desired, but that just added to the level of ridiculously adorable you’d hit without trying, and a loud timbre of laughter bounced off the bedroom walls. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your smirk was completely erased as your jaw dropped and your mind whirled. He...what did he just say? It couldn’t have been— he had never—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden beat of silence throughout the house, just as it had been an hour before. He dipped his head in an effort to catch your eyes. You looked up to see his own, much darker ones, filled with worry.

“That’s… that’s what the flowers were for, Y/N. I had a bit of… something prepared, just a rambling of things that have made me realize over time that…” His hands slid down your arms, around the curving of your hips and waist, down to the small of your back. “But I was late and I could tell you were working. You were beautifully smudged but I wanted you to hear it. To know. It just wasn’t the right time, and—“

“Benjamin.” Your voice was a whisper as your hands rose to gently press against his chest, but firmly enough for his hands to fall from your back as he took a step back. “Y/N, I’m—“

You turned to see the hurt in his eyes, as if his heart had been pulverized. Turning away, your own heart seizing in your chest, you clutched the frayed ends of your old t-shirt, fabric bunching between your fingers as you lifted it up and over your head. Your hair tumbled down and over your shoulders and you bent to rid yourself of the boxer shorts, pushing them down and stepping out of them. Finally, you slipped between the sheets, the cool material sending a pleasant chill over and under your naked body.

“I think we have another thing to celebrate,” you spoke finally. Your eyes shined, not with tears but absolute awe. Benjamin blinked, one, two, three times as he strode to the opposite side of the bed and crawled in beside you.

“You don’t—“

“Shhh.” You hushed him by lightly touching your finger to his lips. The man before you was simply exquisite. “I love you, Benjamin Greene. It's been for awhile now.”

Shock passed over his features briefly. Before he could say another word, you took his cheeks in your hands, meeting him halfway for a long, lingering, deep kiss. He smiled against your lips and pulled your body atop his own, skin to skin. Drinking you in with darkened eyes, he kissed along the curve of your shoulder. “Show me how much, Y/N.”

You never finished your sketch.

#dani's 150 followers event #drabble requests #image 10 #benjamin greene x reader

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