[finniestoncrane]

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. 

[le14z]

Lone man ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Frank Frankenstein x fem!reader

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.

Banner: @/cursed-carmine

[arbuzyansky]

[legendary-defender-of-fandoms]

Isn’t this why he wore red? So no one would see him bleed? Unless he doesn’t bleed red, which totally makes sense.

[wolfythewitch]

Dog years

[rejectingrepublicans]

[judy-j00]

-Now tell me about the lilly ?

-The Lilly means ...

-The lilly means..

“I Dare You To Love Me”.

[almendriww]

“To be lost and to be found, that is the life span of love.”

I’m just so in love with these two worms so much, look at them

[multific]

The Bride of the Woods

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.

He had not stolen a bride that night.

He had found one who would choose him in the end.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

[parkiebearr]

“The Kiss” ⚡️🪲

[darklinaforever]

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.

@darkcrowprincess

[sammick]

the growling was so hot they're strong bc i wouldve RANNNN to him 😭

[catnelli]

.

"She was a homebreaker. She was a man-eater. And she was a *bad* actress." - Helen Sharp, Death Becomes Her (1992)

[catnelli]

"Wrinkled, wrinkled little star... hope they never see the scars." - Madeline Ashton, Death Becomes Her (1992)

[catnelli]

"I wasn't even involved. But sometimes you gotta do something." - The Toxic Avenger (2025)

[catnelli]

[catnelli]

"IT'S CLOBBERING TIME!"

- Ben Grimm, Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025)

[prettycalla]

|| haven’t got the chance to say ||

Pairing: Ben Grimm/Reader

Summary: Ben meets a girl at his favourite shop, but he's convinced she’s only being nice to him because it's her job. He tries to figure out his feelings, while Johnny secretly plays messenger.

Word count: 5k

Tags and warnings: The fluffiest thing I’ve written in a long time, Ben is the biggest sweetheart, Johnny’s a menace (affectionate), reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. The teensiest spoilers for the movie, technically? It's literally the name of the place and the street name, that's about it.

(Is there an audience for Ben? Well, there damn well better be, because I’m in love with him. He cooks and gardens and dresses well and he's the sweetest guy on Earth? He’s the best.)

Fic Masterlist || Taglist

If you were to ask anyone who lives within a two block radius where Ben's favourite place to eat is, they'd all give you the same answer.

Maisie's Delicatessen, down on Yancy Street.

He's there so often that even the paparazzi who dedicate themselves to following the Fantastic Four around have given up staking it out.

'The Thing Spotted at Maisie's for the Twentieth Time This Month' isn't exactly a big scoop.

Ben doesn't care. He's a man of routine, always has been. People might think he's boring, but after everything that's happened to him, he needs some things to stay the same.

And then you came along.

You must be new, because Ben's sure he would recognise you otherwise. He's on first name basis with everyone here. They even have a framed photo of him with the staff on the wall. He was embarrassed when they first showed it to him, but now, he finds it endearing.

"Morning! What can I get for you?" you say, as he steps up to the counter.

Your voice is a little too loud, the cheerful expression on your face just a touch manic. He smiles to himself. First day nerves.

"Morning. Can I get three half-moon cookies?"

He points to the display's middle shelf.

"And uh, throw in one of those little lemon things."

He watches you rush around, trying to find everything. The glass door on the display jams when you try to open it, one of the cookies falls apart the second you try to lift it with the tongs, and the paper bags are all stuck together and end up scattered all over the floor when you try to pry them apart.

"God, I'm so sorry-" you start, but Ben just shakes his head.

He bends down to gather up the bags that have fallen at his feet, placing them back on the counter.

"Don't worry about it," he says gently. "First day?"

You let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, and I'm so nervous," you admit in a whisper. "There's just so much to remember."

Ben nods knowingly. He gives you a smile, hoping that he looks reassuring.

"Don't beat yourself up, alright? You're doing a great job," he says. "We all make mistakes. You should see me before I've had my coffee in the morning. Trust me, it ain't pretty."

You laugh, wiping your hands on your apron.

"Okay, let's try this again," you say resolutely.

You lift another cookie from the tray, sliding it into the bag with the others. You take your time with the lemon slice, careful not to disturb the swirl of icing at the top as you box it up.

Ben can't help but think how sweet it is that you're trying so hard, even if it is your job.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask. "You're gonna think it's so silly."

You press the paper bag closed, running your thumb along the fold to flatten it.

"All the guys have been telling me about you. You're like a celebrity here," you tell him, gesturing to the picture on the wall.

"Nah, I'm just a guy with a sweet tooth who doesn't know when to call it quits," Ben replies with a chuckle.

He hands you a couple of bills, lifting the box and bag from the counter. He shakes his head when you try to give him his change.

"Don't worry about it," he says, gesturing towards the tip jar. "I just realised I never asked you your name."

You introduce yourself.

"It's nice to put a name to a face," he says. "I'm Ben."

He knows he doesn't have to say it - of course you already know who he is. But sometimes he likes to pretend that there are some people left in the world who don't know him. That you only know him from the picture.

"It's nice to meet you too," you say with a warm smile.

He stops for a moment, finding himself a little taken aback. He can't for the life of him figure out why.

"Okay. Well, uh, I should get going," he says, wincing at how awkward he sounds. "Thanks again. And good luck for the rest of your first day."

"Thank you, I think I'm gonna need it," you reply, fussing with the mess of paper bags in front of you. "Hopefully I'll see you again?"

"Yeah, 'course. You too," Ben says, with a stiff little wave as he heads for the door.

He could kick himself. Really, he could.

Get it together. What's the matter with you?

It bothers him all day. Granted, he's never exactly been a socialite. Thankfully, he has Sue and Johnny to help with fielding most of the talking.

But he can handle a bit of small talk. He might not like it - who does, really? - but he can get through it, at least.

He tries to push it to the back of his mind. Really, he does. But it keeps coming back.

Or rather, you keep coming back.

It's when he's getting ready for bed that night that it finally hits him. The toothbrush drops out of his hand, hitting the sink with a loud clatter.

He stares at himself in the mirror.

"Oh, no," he whispers, letting out a long groan.

It's been about a month since you started working at Maisie's, and almost every morning, Ben stops by.

At first, it was for his usual order - the cookies that put the shop on the map. Then he started asking for your recommendations.

And now, more often than not, the two of you get to chatting for so long that he ends up causing a line right out the door.

He can't really explain what it is, you're just so easy to talk to. Despite what you said the first day you met, you don't treat him like a celebrity, you don't ask him questions about what happened or "what it's like". You're just...you.

And the scary thing is, he could kid himself into thinking you actually like him. That you're not just being kind, or worried about keeping your job. That you actually care.

He knows how dangerous that thought could become if he's not careful, and so he keeps trying to squash it down as best he can. But it's persistent, and he's finding himself struggling with it more and more as time goes on.

It's not long before it starts to become obvious.

"Ben, you okay?" Sue asks him one evening, while they're preparing dinner.

He flinches, almost sending the chopping board flying off the kitchen counter.

"God, Suze, you scared the hell outta me," he says with a wheeze.

Sue gently pats his arm in apology.

"You've been chopping that same piece of potato for about five minutes now," she says softly. "I think it's about as small as it's going to get."

Ben looks down. The potato is practically mush now. He sets the knife down with a sigh.

"Sorry, just...had something on my mind," he admits quietly.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sue asks, taking the board from him and tipping the potatoes into a pot of water on the stove.

Ben turns around to face her, leaning his elbows against the counter. He knows better than to tell her that he doesn't want to bother her.

Because he's never a bother to Sue. And he knows by now that she's not just being kind. She means it.

"It's just..."

Where does he even start?

"You and Reed. You've known him for about as long as I have. How did you know that...?"

He falters, unsure as to how to word it.

"That he was the one?" Sue offers.

Ben nods. Even when he can't say it, she always knows. He's always admired that about her.

"Honestly? I didn't," she says. "Not right away. It took some time, and then it was like..."

She pauses for a second, giving the potatoes a stir.

"I had this moment. We were talking, I can't even remember the conversation now, but I looked at him and I thought..."yeah". That was it. But that's when I knew."

She smiles to herself, before turning her attention to Ben.

"I wish I had a better way of describing it. But sometimes it's not always as romantic-sounding as the movies make it out to be."

"I dunno, sounds pretty romantic to me," he says with a shrug.

"So, what's got you thinking about me and Reed, hm?" she asks.

Suddenly the floor has never seemed more interesting.

"Oh, y'know, I was just wondering..."

Sue tilts her head, levelling him with that look - the one that says "don't even bother". He sighs.

"There's no point in me lying to you, is there? Okay, look, I, um..."

He lowers his voice.

"I might have met someone. There's a new girl at Maisie's, and...well, she's really nice."

"Oh my God, is it my birthday?" comes a voice from behind him, and Ben's elbows slip right off the counter, almost sending him crashing to the ground.

He turns around, gripping the counter with a glare in his eyes that would send a man twice his size running in the opposite direction.

Johnny just gives him a big smile.

"We need to put a damn bell on you," Ben grumbles to himself as he straightens up.

"So, what's this I hear about you having met someone?" Johnny asks, undeterred.

"It's none of your business," Ben retorts. "Your sister and I were in the middle of a private conversation."

"In an open-plan kitchen. In the house I live in," Johnny says, pulling a face. "Yeah, real private."

Sue rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Johnny, do you think you could give us five minutes? Alone?"

Johnny slides his hand along the counter nonchalantly as he walks past.

"Oh, sure, sure, no problem," he says airily.

He looks directly at Ben.

"But you're gonna tell me everything afterwards, right?" he mutters to Sue.

"No, I am not."

Johnny shrugs, arms raised theatrically as he backs out of the kitchen.

"That's fine, I'm going," he says, too loudly. "I know where I'm not wanted."

"Do you?" Ben asks. "Coulda fooled me."

He doesn't move, watching until he's satisfied that Johnny's completely out of earshot.

"Ignore him," Sue says.

She takes the pot off the stove, setting it to one side.

"Tell me about this girl."

Ben lifts a tea towel, worrying one of the corners between his fingers.

"I don't meet many people who seem to see me for me, y'know? But it's like...I'm just a guy to her. I'm not a superhero. I'm not..."

He makes a vague gesture towards himself.

"It's been a while since I've felt like this. To be honest, I've missed it."

"And that's got you worried," Sue prompts gently.

Honestly, her ability to do that is a superpower in and of itself.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does," he admits quietly.

Sue crosses over to him, placing her hands on his arms.

"You, Ben Grimm, are one of the most amazing people I've ever met," she says earnestly. "And I've met a lot of people. So trust me when I tell you that anyone would be lucky to have you."

She looks at him with such kindness in her eyes, and Ben forces himself to nod.

He knows she means it. But it's not as easy as she makes it sound. They all came back from that mission different, but at least they can hide it, pretend that they're "normal" for a while.

Ben doesn't have that luxury. He tries not to dwell on it, he's been getting so much better at it, but now? He can't let it go.

He likes you, he's finally said it out loud. But to say it to you? And for you to reject him? It'd break his heart.

But he can't stop thinking about you. About what could happen.

What if it goes wrong?

But what if it goes right?

Despite everything, he can't stop himself from going to see you. He makes sure to go at a time when the shop's not as busy, so at least he knows he's not getting in the way of other customers. The last thing he wants is to get you in trouble.

Your always seem so happy when he stops by, and it's getting harder and harder to convince himself that you're not just being nice to him.

He's tormenting himself, he knows he is, but somehow it feels even worse when he's not with you. Either way, he can't win, can he?

"There he is, my favourite customer," you call, as he steps through the door. "How've you been?"

Is it any wonder Ben's heart feels like it does, when he hears you saying things like that?

"About the same as I was yesterday," he jokes, with a little wince the second he says it.

Way to ram it home that you're never out of here, huh.

You laugh, none the wiser.

"I like that you're here so much," you tell him.

The way you say it, it's so casual, and yet it makes Ben's chest feel tight.

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" he dares to ask.

"Because you're a regular. And if you haven't been put off by me, then I can't be doing too bad a job, right?"

Ben stops for a moment. You're joking, he knows you are. About how nervous you were on your first day.

And yet-

"How could I be put off by someone as nice as you?" he says, before he can stop himself.

His eyes widen. It's too late, he's already said it. He can feel himself starting to panic, and you're just staring at him now. Your lips part, and Ben cuts you off before you even get the chance, desperate to change the subject.

"What, uh, what are you working on?" he asks quickly, gesturing towards the notepad sitting on the counter.

You frown slightly, as if thinking, a look of confusion on your face.

"'Working on?' Oh, right, this. Well, I've been listing some ideas for new specials," you say, tapping your finger against the page. "It's good timing that you came by, actually. I could do with some suggestions."

Ben nods. Anything to get as far away from what he just said.

"Of course. What have you got so far?" he asks.

You lift your pen, absentmindedly fidgeting with it, as you read down the list.

"We've got sandwiches covered, cakes, some new pastry ideas...But I'm wondering if there's something else we're missing. Any thoughts?"

Ben thinks to himself for a moment.

"Y'know, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for those chocolate slices, the ones with the biscuit and marshmallow inside them. Y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"Rocky Road?" you offer.

Ben clasps his hands together.

"That's it! That's the ones."

He chuckles to himself.

"I know, I know. The big guy made of rocks likes Rocky Road. I heard it."

"No, no, it's good," you say, as you scribble it down. "It's a pretty easy one to make too."

Ben does his best to scan down the list, in spite of it being upside-down.

"What about you?" he asks. "You put down anything you like?"

"Yeah, I wanted to," you reply. "You know those little sponge cakes, with the jam and cream in the middle? The mini ones, about the size of cupcakes. But we already sell slices of the regular cake, so it seemed a bit pointless to write it down."

"What's wrong with the regular cake?"

"Nothing! It's so good, it's just..."

You trail off.

"It's a me thing, but sometimes a full slice is a bit much, you know? The cream gets a bit sickening after a while."

You glance at him then.

"I'm rambling on, aren't I?" you ask nervously.

"Hardly," Ben replies gently. "I asked, didn't I?"

You cast your gaze down, wiping your hands on the end of your apron. Ben could swear you looked a little flustered. Wishful thinking, maybe.

"Okay, well, I think I've kept you waiting long enough," you say, a bit too loudly. "What can I get for you?"

Ben frowns, then he realises.

"Oh...just my usual," he replies weakly.

He can't bring himself to tell you the truth, and he feels like a coward.

But as he's leaving, a little idea starts forming in his head.

The next few days, Ben puts himself to work, trying to figure out how to make mini sponge cakes. The regular-sized cake he can handle no problem, but the little ones are a bit tougher to figure out, in terms of adjusting the ingredients.

And a certain someone is not helping matters at all.

Ben made the mistake of stumbling over his answer when Johnny asked who the cakes were for. And true to form, he will not drop it. He's spent the better part of the day making a nuisance of himself.

"Haven't you got something better to do?" Ben grumbles, as he spoons jam out of the pot in his hand.

"Nope," Johnny immediately replies, dragging out the 'P' sound to make himself as irritating as possible.

Even when Ben does finally get rid of him, he just can't resist poking the bear cage one last time.

“I’m headin’ out,” Johnny says, swiping his finger through a bowl of cream as he passes.

Ben glares at him, but says nothing. He's better than that.

“Might stop by Maisie’s while I'm out,” he adds, turning to give Ben a big, shit-eating grin. “See how your friend’s doing.”

Ben just waves a hand at him, trying not to take the bait.

But Johnny being Johnny, he makes it so damn difficult.

“You think she’s free?” he asks, making an annoying show of sucking the cream off his finger. “‘Cause I got nothing on for Saturday night. And she’s cute. Don’t you think she’s cute, Ben?”

Johnny just manages to slip out the door as a whisk goes flying across the room.

Sue gives him a sympathetic look from where she sits at the dining table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Try not to let him get to you,” she says. “Johnny’s harmless, you know he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Ben sighs tiredly.

“I know, he’s just…He’s infuriating, Suze.”

Sue shakes her head with a smile.

“You're preaching to the choir there.”

Ben manages to get a full two hours of peace and quiet, completely Johnny-free. The latest batch of sponge cake experiments were a success, and he was able to add the finishing touches and box them up neatly.

Now all he has to do is gather the courage to go and actually give them to you.

Which he can definitely do. Absolutely. No problem at all.

He's leafing through a book, trying to keep his mind occupied, when he hears the door open. He glances up, before lifting the book closer to his face with a sigh.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Stopped by Maisie's, like I said," Johnny says, as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down.

He just can't read a room, can he?

"That's nice," Ben says, with an air of total disinterest.

He hears what sounds like a paper bag rustling, as Johnny sets something on the table.

"And I got you a little something."

Ben hums noncommittally, turning the page. Being ignored never deters Johnny. He should know this by now. Doesn't stop him from wishing.

"Or rather, I, um, was given something. For you."

That gets Ben's attention. He peers over his book, spotting the paper bag.

He'd know that paper anywhere.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks airily. "What is it?"

Johnny pushes the bag across the table.

"Open it."

Ben tries to keep up the façade, but he's struggling. He forces himself to take his time, pretending to mark his page before setting the book aside.

When he opens the bag, he can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

Inside are four big squares of Rocky Road. You remembered.

Johnny leans in to take a look too. The colour immediately drains from his face.

"Okay, I know what you're probably thinking, and yes, this definitely looks like one of my jokes. But for once, I swear to you, it's not-"

Ben holds up a hand, to stop him before he winds himself up any further.

"I know," he says softly.

He's still smiling.

Johnny waves a hand in front of Ben's face.

"Hello?" he calls impatiently. "Earth to big guy. You okay in there? I don't think I've ever seen you look this happy before. It's weird, if I'm being honest."

Ben hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. Johnny sighs, letting his hand drop down onto the table.

"Listen, I know I've been giving you a lot of crap about this...whole thing. And I'm not gonna apologise for it, by the way, because it would be against everything I stand for. But..."

He stops for a moment, as if to figure out what to say next.

"You really like this girl, don't you?" he asks.

Ben gently drums his fingers across the table top, before he finally nods.

"I do," he murmurs. "God help me, I do."

Johnny slings an arm over the back of his chair.

"Have you considered the possibility that she might like you back?"

Ben grits his teeth. "No, actually, I haven't," he snaps.

"Why not?" Johnny asks, and Ben wonders if he's being stupid on purpose.

He gestures to himself in frustration.

"Because look at me, Johnny!" he says, exasperated. "I don't exactly have people lining up 'round the block to date me. I'm not her type. I'm..."

He sighs. God, he's tired.

"I'm not anyone's type."

Johnny bangs his fist down on the table suddenly, and Ben almost falls out of his chair.

"You cut that out right now," he says lowly.

His eyes are so intense, even more than usual. Ben doesn't think he's ever seen him so serious.

"Look, you know how much I love annoying you. If it was a paying job, I'd be CEO. But I can't listen to you talk about yourself like this. You're "not anyone's type"? Seriously? You're..."

Johnny blows out a long breath, as if he's gearing himself up for something difficult.

"I'm never gonna forgive myself for anything I'm about to say, just FYI, but you...You're like the perfect guy, Ben. Stop looking at me like that, I mean it. You cook, you don't leave your shit everywhere, your dress sense is...Well, you try."

Ben doesn't know whether to kiss him or kick him. He decides he'll let him finish first.

"That girl likes you, Ben. And I'm not messing with you on this. That's too far, even for me. You know the first thing she did when I went down there? She asked me how you were. She was so excited to give me those too."

He taps the paper lightly.

"I could have been anyone, it wouldn't have mattered to her. Because all she cared about was you."

Ben runs a hand over his face. He doesn't know what to say.

"The way I see it, you've got two choices here," Johnny says. "One, you can just sit there and be miserable for the rest of your life. Or two, you can take a chance. Go down there and talk to her. It might be the best thing you've ever done."

Ben sits quietly for a moment, letting it all sink in. Finally, he nods.

"Yeah. You're right," he murmurs. "Thanks for that. Seriously."

Believe it or not, sometimes Johnny's not so bad.

Johnny gives him a warm smile. "Anytime, big guy."

He stands up, swiping a Rocky Road slice before he leaves.

"Thanks for this, by the way," he says with a mock-salute.

Ben glares at him as he goes.

Sometimes.

It takes a little - okay, a lot - of coaxing to push Ben into going to see you the next day. He spends most of the day pacing about the house, grumbling to himself and getting on Johnny's nerves.

"Not so fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?" Ben gripes, after Johnny tells him to knock it off for the third time.

He finally decides on going down just before closing time. That way he won't be bothering you too much, he thinks.

He hopes.

It's been threatening to rain all day, and as luck would have it, not five minutes after Ben's set foot outside, the skies open up. He picks up the pace, tucking the box in his hand safely under his coat.

He sees you standing under in the doorway of Maisie's, holding a newspaper over your head. You look as though you're contemplating making a run for it in the rain. He's halfway across the street when you spot him, and he'd have to be completely oblivious not to see how your face lights up when you spot him.

"Forgot my umbrella this morning," you say with an awkward laugh. "The one day I leave it at home-"

You gesture to the rain that's still coming down in sheets.

"-and this happens. Just my luck."

You glance up at him.

"Glad I got to see you, though," you say.

Ben can’t help but smile at that. He holds his umbrella out over you.

“Where do you need to go?" he asks. "I can walk with you.”

You shake your head.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he insists gently.

You adjust the strap of your shoulder bag, tapping the wilted newspaper against your leg before you make up your mind.

“My car’s just down the street, if you could walk me there.”

Ben gestures in front of him.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a little awkward, with the height difference between you, but he manages to get you to your car at least somewhat dry.

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it," you say, rummaging in your bag for your keys. “I’d, um, I’d offer you a ride home, but…”

You trail off with an apologetic look. Ben waves a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t fit in that tiny thing anyway.”

He saves you the trouble of saying it.

“Listen, before you go…I wanted to say thank you. For the Rocky Road."

Your face lights up at that.

“Oh, yeah? How were they?”

“I think I need to ask you for the recipe, because otherwise I'm gonna have you hounded for more," Ben replies with a chuckle. "Best I’ve ever had.”

The smile on your face right now is going to be the end of him.

"Actually, I, uh, I wanted to repay the favour," he says.

He manages to take the box out from underneath his jacket without dropping it. It's a bit dented, but otherwise fine. He holds it out to you.

"You were saying about those little sponge cakes, and I thought since I had some free time and all…"

He's trying to make it all sound so casual, like it's not that big a deal, but he can feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Because it is a big deal. At least, to him.

You carefully take the box from him, staring down at it. The rain's still pouring down around you.

"I...Oh my God, I don't know what to say."

Worry starts to creep in then. Was he too forward? Was this a weird thing to do? Realistically, he doesn't even know you all that well.

What if he's ruined everything? What if-

"Do you wanna go for coffee sometime?" you blurt out, peering up at him.

Rarely is Ben ever really taken aback, considering everything he's been through in his life, but this...

This leaves him struggling for words.

Eventually, he manages to make himself nod.

"Yeah, I'd...I'd love that," he replies.

He can't help himself from thinking it, but you're so cute when you smile like that, the way it reaches your eyes.

"Great! Stop by when I'm working, and we'll figure out a time and place, okay?"

"It's a date," Ben says, before he can stop himself.

His eyes widen. Probably about as wide as yours are right now.

"Sorry, I meant like- It was just-"

"It's a date," you echo.

You both stand there for a moment. Ben's about to tell you to go, so you can't catch your death of cold, but you beat him to it.

You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, before turning to unlock your car.

"See you later," you say, completely flustered. "And thanks again for these!"

Ben just waves, closing the car door for you as you get in. He stands there for a while, not caring that his shoes and the bottoms of his pants are soaked through now, before he heads home.

His hand is pressed to his cheek the entire time.

There's a flower shop on the route Ben takes to Maisie's. He can't remember how many times he's passed by it and barely taken notice of it, but this time, he finds himself slowing down.

He buys a bouquet of sunflowers before he can talk himself out of it, practically marching himself down the street out of sheer nerves.

But when he sees you through the window, it all just melts away. You're laughing, and it warms his heart like nothing else ever has. He's never seen anyone as pretty as you.

Your gaze meets his when you turn, and you look so happy, giving him a smile and a big wave.

Ben waves back, with a small smile of his own.

He'll never admit it. But Johnny was right.

Clutching the sunflowers a little tighter in his hand, he lets out a small, contented breath, and opens the door.

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