The Character Development Template is a comprehensive tool for creating detailed and well-rounded character profiles, ideal for writers, roleplayers, or anyone exploring character creation. It covers essential details like identity, personality traits, relationships, and background while diving deeper into habits, quirks, and beliefs. Additional sections include alternate universes, scenario-based questions, and a variety of fun, introspective prompts to uncover hidden aspects of your character. The template also provides space to list inspirations from media, historical figures, and quotes, making it a versatile resource for building dynamic, multidimensional characters.
I. BASIC INFORMATION
Full Name:
Nickname(s):
Pronunciation:
Reason/Meaning of Name:
Preferred Name(s):
Titles:
Date of Birth: (Month, Year)
Place of Birth:
Age: (e.g., 20s, 30s)
Zodiac Sign:
Gender Identity:
Pronouns:
Sexual Orientation:
Romantic Orientation:
Species:
Ethnicity:
Nationality:
Living Arrangements:
Occupation:
Primary Source of Income:
Secondary Source of Income:
Education Level:
Religion:
Political Affiliation:
Social Class:
Dialogue Style:
II. PERSONALITY
Positive Traits:
Neutral Traits:
Negative Traits:
Primary Vice:
Primary Virtue:
Greatest Fear:
Greatest Desire:
Motivations:
Core Values:
Sense of Humor:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Quirks:
Pet Peeves:
Life Philosophy:
Jung Type:
MBTI Personality:
Enneagram Type:
Temperament:
Moral Alignment:
Hogwarts House:
III. RELATIONSHIPS
Mother:
Father:
Siblings:
Children:
Significant Other(s):
Best Friend(s):
Rival(s):
Enemies:
Pets:
Other Important Relationships:
IV. BACKGROUND
CHILDHOOD
Place of Birth:
Hometown:
Socioeconomic Status:
Parents' Occupations:
Type of Childhood:
TEENAGE YEARS
Key Relationships:
Education Level:
Significant Events:
ADULTHOOD
Current Residence:
Notable Life Events:
V. HABITS & QUIRKS
Daily Routine:
Nervous Tics:
Unhealthy Habits:
Peculiarities:
VI. ALTERNATE VERSES/THEMES
Verse 1 (Description):
Verse 2 (Description):
Verse 3 (Description):
VII. ADDITIONAL CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE
PERSONAL INSIGHTS
What would they say is their biggest flaw?
What is actually their biggest flaw?
What is their biggest blind spot?
What is their guilty pleasure?
How do they act out when stressed?
What makes them envious?
What is one thing they wouldn’t want someone to know about them?
What is their biggest nightmare?
What was their worst subject in school?
What makes them feel insecure?
What are two things that make them uncomfortable in conversation?
SCENARIO QUESTIONS
What would they do if they knew they couldn’t fail?
Name three things they are grateful for.
When was the last time they did something for the first time?
What is something they wish they could redo from the past?
Describe a memory that makes them feel proud.
What’s in their bag/pockets?
Are they proud of who they are? Name an achievement they value.
What do they notice first about someone?
Do they value creativity or practicality more?
Describe a time they did something despite being scared.
What is their favorite gift they’ve received?
How old do they feel on the inside, and why?
Do they feel they’ve missed opportunities they regret? Describe one.
VIII. BELIEFS & OPINIONS
What is their idea of perfect happiness?
What is their greatest fear?
Which trait do they most deplore in themselves?
Which trait do they most deplore in others?
Which living person do they most admire?
What is their greatest extravagance?
What is their current state of mind?
What do they consider the most overrated virtue?
On what occasion do they lie?
Which living person do they most despise?
When and where were they happiest?
Which talent would they most like to have?
If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?
What do they consider their greatest achievement?
Where would they most like to live?
What is their most treasured possession?
What do they regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Who is their hero of fiction?
Who are their heroes in real life?
What do they most value in their friends?
What is their motto?
IX. MISCELLANEOUS QUESTIONS
What is their favorite word?
What is their least favorite word?
What sound or noise do they love?
What sound or noise do they hate?
What is their favorite curse word?
If they were reincarnated as a plant or animal, what would it be?
If Heaven exists, what would they like to hear God say when they arrive?
Warnings: fluff, mentions of Ben adjusting to life post-space trip
Inspired by This Post by @shefollowedthestars 🤎
Word Count: 6.1k
A/N: never written for Ben before or F4 in general but GOD if i didn't enjoy this so so so much. anyway!!! gonna be unwell about him forever now!!!!!
He had been trying to get better about venturing outside his comfort zone. A zone which was admittedly small these days ever since coming back down to Earth from the trip that changed everything. For a brief while there, he hardly ever left the house at all. Now, while some days it still felt harder than maybe it should, he did make a point to get himself out and about.
All of his usual haunts welcomed him back with enthusiastically open arms. It was the warm welcome, the type of excitement, that made Ben want to shrink away. Some folks said that any attention was good attention, however Ben often felt himself believing just the opposite. For the sake of survival and not losing his mind he worked on rewiring the part of his brain that believed that. Logically he always knew that it was better than the alternative, it was just a matter of allowing himself to feel that not just think it. He tried to remember that it was coming from a place of appreciation, a place of love. It took some time but as the days continued to tick by, the hesitation started to erode away. One tiny bit at a time.
There was a café on the other end of town that Johnny came home raving about and swearing by. Ben knew that it was a toss-up—the place could possibly be as good as Johnny was saying, or it could be that there was just a cute girl who worked there that was giving Johnny a bit of tunnel-vision. It was the type of fifty-fifty odds that not even Reed could argue against. He had made a point to mention it to Ben more than a couple times, though, so the next day that he was feeling particularly brave he made his way over. A handful of blocks deeper into the city than he usually went, he managed to find the place that Johnny had been talking about.
There wasn’t much for outdoor seating, which was Ben’s preference these days for reasons unrelated to just wanting fresh air and sunshine. Since touching back down on Earth, it had been difficult to find places where he actually felt comfortable sitting down and eating, or enjoying a cup of coffee. Even if some of the places were technically large enough, more often than not they would still feel cramped. At that point he would much rather just take something to go. The few small tables they had outside were occupied, people enjoying some of the last nice days before the autumn chill became a bit too much.
Coffee was an easy thing to take to-go, though. And he’d made the mistake of telling Johnny where he was going as he got into the elevator at home. So he couldn’t come home without some kind of report on his findings. Shaking his head at himself, at the way he now overthought everything, he took a deep breath and stepped up towards the door.
The inside was surprisingly roomy. It reminded him a bit of the physics of Mary Poppins’ bag. He turned to look around and get a full scope of the place, making sure to do so carefully so he didn’t bump into anyone or anything. With the exception of a few booths that were built into the wall, the place was all different sized tables. Tables for two, tables for four. One large table lingered at the back of the space, the kind of table he’d expect to see people eating family dinner at.
From his side of the counter he could see all the different coffee and espresso machines. There was a small display case that had a few pastries inside. Nothing fancy, but little things that would go well with the coffee or tea that people actually showed up for. He was looking at all of his options when a young girl behind the counter let him know that it was his turn to order.
She was cute. And young. She had that warm, bubbly personality that people associated with girls behind the counter at the coffeehouse. Not that he would ever say it out loud, especially not to the girl’s face, but as she wrote his name on the side of his cup he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what kept Johnny coming back.
He got his answer when the girl handed him his coffee cup and a small paper bag with a croissant inside. Her smile split a little wider and she couldn’t quite look Ben in the eyes as she said, “Hey, um, if you see Johnny, could you tell ‘im I said hi?”
Ben wanted to roll his eyes, or even make a joke, but he could tell by the way the girl was fidgeting with her hands that it had taken everything in her to get the courage to ask him that. He would save his sarcasm for the guy back home who deserved it far more than she did.
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
Rather than continuing to stand there and stare at the girl behind the counter, who was grinning as she attempted to make herself look busy with the rag in her hand, Ben took a small step backwards, trying to catch the name on her pin since he hadn’t thought enough to ask and it was too late now.
He didn’t know if he would have stayed if the girl hadn’t asked him to pass along a message to Johnny. But now that she had, he figured he should be taking his goodies to go. Turning around, he maneuvered his way towards the door. A few people that were sitting at the tables watched him go, smiling and waving. Ben gave them half-hearted waves back but he just wanted to be sitting at the table at home.
Stepping back out onto the sidewalk, Ben was about to let the café door fall shut behind him when he saw you making your way towards the entrance. You were looking down into an open tote bag, clearly in search of something. The brown leather strap that went across your body was connected to what looked to Ben like a map tube. However, judging by the pencil tucked behind your ear and the spiral-bound sketchbook that was peeking up over the edge of your tote bag, he had a feeling it was art inside that cylinder, not a map. Whatever you were looking for must have been important, the way your face was pinched with focus. Ben backpedaled a step, just enough to be able to pull and hold the door open for you. The thought crossed his mind that if he didn’t, you just might walk right into the glass.
You looked up right at the last second, though, proving Ben wrong. The intensity on your face faded when you saw that someone was holding the door open for you. Despite the mounting confusion on your face when you saw who it was that was holding the door for you, you still smiled.
“Thanks,” you said, face starting to feel warm as you stood there just before the doorway, bag still open in front of you.
“You’re welcome. You just, uh, looked like you might—”
“Smack my forehead off the glass?” you finished his sentence with a laugh.
Ben chuckled. “Your words, not mine.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” You stepped over the threshold and into the café, not wanting to hold him up or linger in the entryway for too long. “Very chivalrous of you.”
He didn’t know what more to say as he stood there looking at you. He also didn’t know how to end the conversation right then without it feeling abrupt. It should’ve been simple—he knew that he was overthinking it. And he was overthinking it because you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time and he hadn’t set out for the day ready for that kind of thing.
Someone who was sitting in the restaurant simultaneously saved Ben from making a fool out of himself, while also cutting his moment with you short. They called out what he now knew was your name, because you immediately looked back over your shoulder to see who had said it. Hands full, you offered the person a bright smile and a nod in lieu of a wave.
“Thanks again!” you chirped before turning and heading off towards the table where your friends were sitting.
Ben stood there for a moment in the doorway watching you go, half-formed sentences hanging off the tip of his tongue. It took a few seconds longer than it should have for him to remember that he was supposed to be leaving.
Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but now Ben was the one going to the coffeeshop in hopes of seeing a pretty girl. It was even less likely for him than it had been for Johnny, though. At least the cute girl that Johnny liked worked there. It wasn’t as much of a longshot as far as gambles went. You, though? For all he knew you had just been passing through. Maybe you were just in the city visiting someone, whoever it was that had called your name. For all he knew you were on the other side of the country now.
He was taking a step backwards from the counter, coffee in hand, when he bumped into someone. An apology was already halfway out into the air before he even turned to see who it was.
You were apologizing too, your bag hanging in the crook of your arm, a small plate in one hand that Ben was assuming had started off with a pastry on top of it. For a moment he could see it on your face that you were simply impressed with yourself that the slight commotion hadn’t sent the plate falling and shattering on the floor. When you looked to see who it was that you had backed into, your face shifted to surprised, then you smiled.
“Just keep running into each other, huh?” you said still smiling.
Ben couldn’t help but to smile too. “Holding the door was probably a better look for me.”
“Last line of defense before chivalry becomes a thing of the past,” you joked.
One of you needed to move. Ben knew that it should be him. He couldn’t yet, though. Some of it was lingering nerves, but he also knew that the longer he stood there, the more details he could take in about you. Like the paint, and what he assumed was charcoal, smeared on the backs of your hands and your forearms. You still had a pencil tucked behind your ear, too. It looked nice paired with the small pair of stud earrings you had in. No rings or bracelets though, and he had a feeling that was in direct correlation with the streaks on your hands and wrists.
Time hardly meant a thing to him right then, but he knew that he could only afford to stand and stare at you for so long before it became a problem for more reasons than his lingering sense of embarrassment. Clearing his throat, he stepped to the side and allowed you to pass. He couldn’t have been frozen too long, he reasoned, since you were still smiling and gave him a nod as you slipped by him to set your plate with the others that were empty and stacked ready to be brought back to the kitchen.
Not wanting to keep up the streak of lingering, or getting in the way, Ben turned and started back towards the door. He wanted to ask you for your name, since hearing your friend call it out before didn’t quite count as an introduction. Maybe even ask for your number. Hell, ask for anything, but the words just weren’t coming.
He was about to let go of the door now that he was back outside. Out of habit, he looked back to see if anyone was right behind him, not wanting to let it slam in their face. He laughed and so did you when your eyes met.
You gestured to him and the door as you stepped through. “Redemption!”
The look on your face had him feeling warm despite the cool breeze weaving between you. “Thank God—that was really gonna eat at me.”
Your laughter was quiet as the two of you walked out of the entryway. When you paused, so did he. Looking up at him, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and said, “Ben, right?”
He knew that you were asking out of politeness. Everyone knew his name by this point. Still, he played along. He knew yours too, after all, but he was still going to ask anyway. “Yeah. Sorry, haven’t really needed to introduce myself lately after...all of it,” he ended the sentence with a chuckle.
You smiled and nodded. “That makes sense.” You told him your name without making him ask. It looked like you were about to say something else when your watch chimed. Looking down, your eyes widened. “I gotta run,” you said, already taking a backwards step, “but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in a doorway somewhere soon!”
Ben was chuckling, nodding as you went. By the time he came up with something that he wanted to say, you were nearly out of earshot. He stayed for a moment longer and watched you go, turning at the end of the block and disappearing out of sight.
He still had his coffee cup in his hand when he got back to the Baxter Building. He was in the middle of being greeted by HERBIE when Johnny came striding into the kitchen. Skipping over pleasantries entirely, he focused in on the coffee cup that was in Ben’s hand.
“See? Told ya!” he said, triumph in his voice and the way he nodded.
Ben looked at him. “Told me what?”
He pointed to the cup. “That you’d like that spot!” He turned and was rooting through the refrigerator. “And you thought it was just because of a cute girl.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “I think we were both right.”
Johnny laughed, giving a shrug of admission. “Maybe.” He walked around and clapped Ben on the shoulder as he went to head back towards his room. “But it’s not like you would keep showing up just ‘cause of a cute girl, so that solves that.”
Ben nodded, but there was just enough of a hitch in his answer that Johnny’s footsteps ceased as he said, “Yeah. Ob—obviously.”
Johnny immediately backpedaled so that he was standing in front of Ben. Not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, he spoke to HERBIE, “Herbert, did you hear that? That sounded like,” he dramatically walked circles around Ben, “well, that sounded like Ben here was trying to lie to us! Wouldn’t you say?”
HERBIE was already beeping and chirping out a response when Ben tried to come to his own defense. “Don’t answer that, HERBIE.” He looked at Johnny, who had stopped his vulture-like circling. “You said it yourself, they’ve got good coffee there.” He shook his nearly-empty cup. “That’s it. You were right for once—you should be happy with that win.”
Johnny held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, listen, I’m not judging. Reveling in victory? Maybe. But not judging.”
Any opportunity for Ben to try and fail to come to his own defense disappeared as Johnny sauntered off down the hallway, HERBIE following close behind. Ben couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but they were all laughs and excited beeps as they turned into the office that Johnny had co-opted for himself.
Ben was shaking his head at himself now. Finishing off the coffee, he looked at the empty cup for a moment before tossing it into the trash. “It’s good coffee,” he muttered to himself.
It was a little over a week before Ben had time to go back to the coffeeshop again. He had the entire morning to himself to do as he pleased, which was rare. It was an exceptionally warm day for fall, so he put on his sweater and grabbed the book he’d been working his way through with the intention of sitting outside at the cafe if there were tables available.
It was a busy enough on the city streets for Ben to be able to tune it out rather quickly once he sat and cracked his book open. Even when he reached to take a sip of his coffee, he didn’t pry his eyes away from the pages in front of him. A few people had cycled in and out of the other chairs and tables that the coffeeshop had outside. He only paid attention to that at first to make sure that from where he was sitting, he wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. He wasn’t, so his focus remained solely on his book, and the breeze that occasionally came through attempting to make him lose his page.
He was getting towards the end of his coffee, wondering if he was really going to go in and order another or if he was just going to pack it up and head home. When he reached the end of the page that he was on, he glanced back over his shoulder to try and gauge just how busy it was inside.
When he was looking back at the counter, he felt someone staring at him. He’d lost count of the turnover at the other tables around him. Looking around to see if there really even was someone looking at him, his gaze landed on you. His eyes widened, kicking himself for having missed your arrival.
“Hi,” he said, feeling how his shock was still evident in his features but not able to make it go away.
If you were fazed, you didn’t show it. You gave a small wave. “Hey! Fancy seeing you here.”
He smiled, gave a small laugh. There was something different in the way that you were looking at him in that moment compared to your other encounters. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, though. It wasn’t negative, but there was an intensity hiding in your expression that hadn’t been there before. The tilt of your head, the way that the pencil that had been behind your ear before was now pinched between your fingers.
Attempting to think about anything other than the way you were looking at him, Ben made a motion towards the pages that you had spread out across the table in front of you. They all had something expertly placed on at least one edge or corner—the wind wasn’t going to take your art the way it was trying to steal Ben’s page number.
“You come here to work a lot?” he asked.
You shrugged, looking down at your scattered artwork and then back at him again. “When I have the time, yeah. Most times I’m just up late working in my apartment, or the studio at the school.”
He forgot how close the university was to where the two of you were currently sitting. “You’re a teacher? Uh, professor?”
You smiled and nodded. “Yep! Something to help pay the bills until I can do this,” you held up your sketchbook, a blank page staring at Ben, “full-time.”
“Wow,” he was nodding, impressed.
The conversation lulled, and then Ben felt it again, the way that you were staring at him. You didn’t seem like the type to scrutinize, to pick him apart for the sake of a joke or an insult. However it was hard to not let those thoughts begin to creep in because of how different things had been since coming back from space. Ben might’ve been his own worst critic, but scattered outside voices certainly didn’t help either.
Leaning back on your chair, your hands fell into your lap. The tilt of your head returned as you said, “Can I ask you something?”
Ben’s heart started thundering in his chest. You’d given him no reason to be worried, but he couldn’t help it. He released his grip on the paper coffee cup in his hand so he didn’t accidentally crush it out of nerves. Nodding, he said, “Shoot.”
One hand reappeared. You tapped the eraser of your pencil on the blank sketchbook page in front of you. “Can I draw you?”
Ben sat back in his seat like your four little words had landed a punch right to the middle of his chest and sent him tumbling. “What?”
You cracked a smile, and Ben was thinking it was the first time he saw you a little flustered. He’d say the shoe was finally on the other foot but he was reeling from the question. “It’s okay if not. I, I know maybe that’s a weird question. We don’t, you know, know each other. But...yeah, could I?”
“Um, I mean—”
“I won’t keep you here or anything. Not like, all day. Just until you finish your coffee?”
The part of him that wanted to say yes was just as loud as the part of him that was filled with fear and wanted to hop the tiny fence separating the tables from the sidewalk so that he could make a break for it.
“Why?” he said, knowing it wasn’t the right answer to the question that you’d asked him. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
For a moment it seemed you found it difficult to meet Ben’s gaze. He didn’t rush you into an answer, but he was still waiting for one. “You just, um,” you stared at the sketchbook in front of you and then finally looked him in the eyes again, “make quite the beautiful little scene here, you know? The sunlight is perfect, and you’ve got your sweater and your book and your eyes and...” you trailed off, the look on your face letting Ben know that you’d said more than maybe you meant to.
The fluttering sensation in his stomach was something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. He sat and watched you for a moment as he tried to gather up the courage to give you his answer.
Surprising to himself most of all, he nodded. “Okay.”
Your entire face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I just, um,” he gave his cup a tiny shake, “this one’s done.” He stood up, trying not to tip his chair over in the process, “Let me just grab another—”
You made a motion with your hands trying to tell him not to bother. “Oh, no, that’s alright. You don’t have to—”
“It’s fine. Do you, um, you want anything?”
You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m good.”
It was a few minutes of awkward conversation when he came back. He kept asking how you wanted him to sit, if he should be doing something specific with his coffee or his book or his face. You were kind but amused by it all, reassuring him that all you needed him to do was whatever he would be doing if you weren’t sitting there drawing him. There was no blushing for him these days, but if he could have, that’s exactly what he would have been doing.
Eventually he settled into it. He had his book on the table, and you had your sketchbook propped against your legs so it was slanted against the edge of the table. Every couple of pages or so he would pause so he could ask you questions, just make casual conversation. Even when you didn’t look up at him to respond, he could see how you were smiling as your pencil flew across the paper. He asked you about your art, about what it was like to work at the university. You were kind enough not to grill him about what it was like in space, or being part of the Fantastic 4. Too many people had put that in the papers and the evening news to pretend you didn’t already know the broad strokes.
Instead you asked him what he was reading. That branched out into a conversation about what other books he liked, what else he liked to do. He talked about cooking, about his small-scale greenhouse. He noticed that when he was talking about himself, that was when you would look up at him. Those were the moments when your hand would still against the paper. Then when the questions got turned back on you again you would answer while plugging away at your work.
It wasn’t long until the book became a prop. He’d given up on reading it, but left it open in case you were still using it while drawing. His second coffee was long gone. The perfect sunlight that you had mentioned before was starting to shift, some of the taller buildings beginning to obscure it. If Ben noticed all of these things, he was sure that you must have too. But he didn’t mention any of it. He’d sit there until the sun went down completely if that was what you wanted to do.
Sitting with you out on what must have been one of the smallest patios in the world, it was the first time in a long time that Ben didn’t have a sinking feeling of discomfort over someone staring at him. Once those first stiff couple of minutes had ticked by, he had eased right into it. Maybe because you were so relaxed about it. When you studied him, it wasn’t with scrutiny but with admiration.
He watched you as you looked at him, the way your tongue would dart out along the edge of your mouth as you tried to put all of what you were seeing in front of you down on paper, and to do it just the way you wanted. He saw the sheen of graphite smears appearing on the side of your hand along your pinky and into your palm. You would sketch, then look at him again, erase some things, and then draw again.
There was no avoiding people’s gazes anymore. Not with how he looked, not with his new-found celebrity and superhero status. That’s what had kept him inside for so long. There was no hiding from any of it no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to. And yet when you had asked him to sit there and allow himself to be stared at, studied, and drawn, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to say no. Not to you. It was a strange thing to him, that someone as gorgeous as you could sit there and tell him that he was part of a beautiful scene like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I promise I won’t keep you much longer,” you said, your quiet laugh just barely giving away your nerves.
Ben smiled. “I’m not in a rush to get anywhere.”
You hummed as you put a little more shading into your drawing. “I said until your coffee was done, and that was a while ago.” You lifted your eyes without lifting your head. “But you’ve been very sweet to stay anyway.”
He chuckled to try and hide the flutters your expression and your words caused inside his chest. Looking away, he glanced at the buildings across the street, the ones creeping up ever higher towards the sky.
“Ah, you know, it’s not every day that an artist asks to draw a portrait of you,” he said, still not able to look at you.
“Well,” you said as you said your pencil down on the tabletop with a sense of finality, “it’s not every day you come across your next model at the cafe.”
He laughed in earnest at that. Amusement giving him enough confidence to look at you. “I don’t know about all of that.”
“No?” You stood from your table and walked over to his. Sitting down in the chair across from him, you set the sketchbook down and spun it dramatically so that the drawing was facing him. “I think I do.”
Despite everything, Ben still hesitated before he looked down at the drawing. It wasn’t that he thought you weren’t going to do a good job. His worry was that you were going to do a great job and he still wasn’t going to like what he saw. Before he looked down, he looked at you one more time. He smiled at the tiny smear of graphite by your eyebrow where you must’ve touched your face without realizing it.
Finally, he looked at the sketchbook that you’d set in front of him. He had been holding his breath to begin with, but when he saw the picture in front of him, he tried to pull in another and it didn’t have anywhere to go, nearly sending him into a coughing fit.
He managed a soft, “Wow,” as he stared at the drawing in front of him.
A mixture of warmth and heaviness blossomed in his chest. The idea that this was how someone saw him, how you saw him, rendered him speechless. It was him at the table, his coffee and his book. You put just enough into the background so that it looked like the city, but not so much that it would distract anyone from the real focus of your drawing. It was all varying shades of gray graphite against the slightly off-white paper except for his eyes, which you had colored in bright blue. He was smiling in the picture, one hand keeping his book open. Despite the purposeful lack of color, the drawing still felt warm, soft. A lump began to grow in the back of his throat the longer that he looked at it.
When you spoke up again, your voice was quieter, gentler than it had been. A recognition that this moment was something bigger outside just the two of you. “I told you—beautiful.”
He chuckled, a soft breath coming out through his nose. He pried his gaze away from your artwork of him so he could look at you again. “You’re really good.”
You shook your head. “Just drawing what I see.” There was a pause, tension and possibilities thickening the air between you. Clearing your throat, you rested your fingertips against the spiral that bound your sketchbook together. “Do you want to keep it?”
He tilted his head this time, only he was doing so in confusion. “What?”
You tapped the edge of the drawing. “The drawing. Do you want to keep it?”
He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No, no. You don’t gotta do that. You,” he looked down at the picture, “you worked really hard on that.”
You smiled. “Yeah, but the whole point of making art is sharing it with people. People that, you know, that it matters to them.”
Ben didn’t know what to do with the feeling bubbling in his chest. He wanted to keep the drawing, but he didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d been dodging looking at himself, thinking about the state of himself, so often these days. It was a big shift to suddenly find himself wanting a keepsake of it all.
Whether you sensed his internal conflict, or it was an offer you were planning on extending anyway, you said, “I think I might even have a frame at home that this will fit in.”
His face lit up. “Yeah?”
There was a satisfied smile on your face as you nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Why don’t I get this framed and then you can have it?”
Ben was nodding even though all of the anxious trains of thought inside his head were screaming at him to stop, to say no, to not impose. “I’d really like that.”
You were nodding as you took your sketchbook back, carefully flipping it closed. “I’d like that too.”
He watched as you stood back up again and went to put your sketchbook into your bag. He closed the book he’d brought, knowing that he was going to have to reread most of what he’d done over the last little stint there. His eyes were seeing the words but now there was no chance that he was going to remember any of it in any sort of meaningful way. He wasn’t upset about it.
You gathered up all of your things. He was amazed at how much you could fit into the tote bag that you kept hung in the crook of your arm. No wonder you were nearly walking into doors as you tried to find things inside of it. When you were done, you lingered by your table looking at him.
It took a minute, but he realized what it was that you were waiting for. Standing, he gathered his own few things and said, “I’ll walk out with you.”
That same warm, knee-buckling smile crossed your face as you nodded. “I’d like that.”
He got the doors for you, small smiles and quiet laughs passing between you as you slipped past him, thanking him on the way. Then you were both back on the sidewalk again. You’d made it seem like you didn’t want to keep him, but if someone asked him he wouldn’t have been able to tell them what exactly it was that you would’ve been keeping him from. The sidewalk with you was as good of a place to spend his day as any.
“I’ll give you a call when I get this framed?” you asked, taking a step down the street as a wordless invitation for him to walk alongside you to wherever you were heading next.
He nodded as he felt into stride just half a step behind you. “I’d like that.”
You hummed in amusement. “Me too.” You looked up at him. “It’d be a lot easier to do if I had your number.”
He chuckled, a little embarrassed but not in the way that made him want to hide. It’d been too long since he set foot in this arena, and it showed. “Right. Yeah, I guess that would help, huh?”
He waited patiently as you dug a pen out of your bag. He was expecting you to pull out a slip of paper too, but instead you held out your hand to him. You must’ve seen the question on his face because you pointed to your palm with your other hand.
He laughed and shook his head, but followed your request. He made sure to hold your hand as gently as he could as he wrote the number to the phone that was in his room of the Baxter Building. The warmth emanating off the back of your hand rivaled that which emanated from your smile and your eyes. He was just glad that his hand wasn’t shaking as he did it. The numbers were legible—that was all he was hoping for.
Taking back your hand and your pen, you looked at the numbers he’d written. You smiled as you tucked the pen behind your ear and gently blew on your inked palm to encourage it to dry. Ben wasn’t sure if he believed in love at first sight, but it’d been enough times seeing you now that this might be it.
“So I'll call you when it’s done, and we can, I don’t know, meet at our usual spot?” you said, tone light and joking.
Ben smiled as he continued walking down the sidewalk with you, now realizing that you were making your way towards the bus stop. His mouth worked faster than his brain as he said, “Or I could take you to dinner?”
You both stopped as you each processed what he said. Silence lingered for a second longer, enough to have Ben trying to scramble and come up with an exit strategy for both of you.
Then you reached out, your hand resting on the outside of his arm. Even through his sweater and everything else, he could feel the heat of your touch. Your smile stretched a little wider than it had been before as you nodded. “I would really like that.”
He sighed in relief, knowing the nerves of what he’d just gotten himself into would set in soon enough. He was enjoying that they hadn’t yet. “Great, perfect. Yeah. It’s, um, it’s a date.”
You laughed as you reached the bus stop. “It’s a date.” Standing up on your tip-toes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’ll call you.”
Ben was certain that his heart was beating hard enough to crack through the tough exterior that caged it. “Can’t wait.”
(divider by @saradika-graphics 💕)
MCU Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic @artemiseamoon
I just really love this little cameo. There’s no electricity due to Magneto’s EMP, but surgery can’t stop so Stephen’s performing it under CANDLELIGHT. That’s insane, ohmygod. Plus he can’t even perform surgery normally due to his hands so he’s doing it with magic but he still has to do it because he’s, first and foremost, a doctor.
Her name is Clara and she wants to be a detective/secret agent SOOOOOOOO BAD! She runs around town trying to solve (and sometimes creating) mysteries.
Think James Bond and Scooby Doo vibes!!
She has tons of horrible disguises, which are often hand me downs from her parents or clothes she found in the attic of her home! She sobbed when she begged her parents for a suit like James Bond and they told her they didn’t have the money </3
Anyways she is very silly but is doing her best. She’s insanely resourceful though and often says what’s actually going on on the first try, only to go “No… it has to be-“ and then go on a wild goose chase (it’s more fun that way)!
