Shining beacon, impressive force, dignified ruler. Palms pressed together in silent devotion, drinking in the light of worship as benedictions fall from hungry lips. Gold drips from their body, dazzling in the ever-shifting flicker of flame. They are their own religion, their own deity, the centre of all.
Requested by @narsissisticcracker:
Benedict x Reader fic
based on the quote from Ben: “Pull the hair on my head the wrong way, and
I would be on my knees begging for mercy. I have very sensitive
follicles.” no smut please just lots of fluff and kissing, makeout scene. With
the hair pulling…..Yeah.
Pairing: Benedict x reader
Word count: 1.184
A/N: Some fluff for the cumberbitches.
Benedict was always busy with work. His multiple roles were demanding,
and his professionalism and fine manners were also a huge influence to his need
of being early to work every single day and leaving until everybody was done
working – which means he was the last one to leave.
(Y/N) knew it was important for him, that every character had a big
space in his humongous heart. From the Frankenstein Monster, to a dragon in a
castle, all the way to a consultant detective. Benedict loved them all, and was
willing to give his whole to them.
She missed him, but she never said anything, because she didn’t want to
be the kind of girlfriend to discourage her partner just because she wants more
attention. Besides, whenever he had free time, Benedict would dedicate solely it
He was the most loving boyfriend in the world. His kind heart and warm
soul were more than enough to make her day better just by giving her a boyish
grin every morning. He would come home, willing to cuddle with her in spite of
being extremely tired, and during the weekend he would wake up early to make
her breakfast – which they would eat in bed – and he always had little details;
like tiny gifts from his trips, or flowers just because they were pretty, or he
would take her out for dinner, or suggest to stay home and re-watch her
favourite TV shows. Benedict loved her, and he liked to show it through small
actions like so.
Benedict would also call her through video call every night whenever he
was out of town. That week, Ben had gone out to Italy to the press tour of his
brand new movie. (Y/N) had to stay for work, so she couldn’t join him, but was
patiently waiting for him to come back and stay home for a whole week of rest.
“Hello, love.” She greeted as Ben’s face appeared on the screen. The man
“Hiiii!” He chanted, waving his hand.
“How’s Italy?” She asked.
“Italian.” Benedict joked, and they couldn’t help but to laugh. Those
video calls were usually simple as hell, and so they would laugh at everything
and anything. “Italy is fine; it’s gorgeous, as usual, but it’s not the same
“I miss you too, my dear.” She said. Benedict nodded, and (Y/N) caught a
tiny glimpse of his background – he was outside. “Why aren’t you at the hotel?”
“Too loud.” Benedict replied instantly, “The whole cast and staff
decided it is an amazing day to celebrate the release of the film.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to celebrate with them.” She suggested.
“I wanted to be with you.” Ben mumbled, “I can’t wait to be on holiday
so we can spend it together without any interruption.”
“I know, me too.” She whispered as her eyes watered slightly.
“But it will be very soon. Oh, hello, Mrs. Trent.” Ben greeted their
neighbour. “As I was saying, it will be very soon.”
“Yes… Wait a second.” Her eyes widened and Benedict chuckled at her
reaction. “Are you really here?”
“Just open the door, England is freezing compared to Italy.” He didn’t
have to ask her twice. (Y/N) jumped out of bed, leaving the laptop there, and
ran outside to the door.
He’s sitting with a book of Indonesian legends, trying to concentrate. The words swim alarmingly, and he wonders if he ought to get up and fetch another cup of coffee. He fiddles with his phone, checking for messages, but there’s been nothing from Cas since his text four hours ago, claiming he was driving back to the bunker.
Sam had gone to bed hours ago, not arguing when Dean told him he wasn’t sleepy. His little brother had just looked knowing, giving Dean a quick hug before he ambled off to his own room. Dean sighs, rubbing at his eyes again. He’s just about to extract himself from his chair when he hears the creak of the bunker door open, and the sound of quiet footsteps as they descend.
“Dean?” Cas’s voice is rough and surprised as he enters the war room, “it’s nearly three in the morning. Why aren’t you in bed?”
Dean looks up from his book and tries to smile at Cas.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, tapping at the chair next to him. Cas gives him a quick kiss and sinks down into it, blue eyes concerned. He raises a hand to Dean’s forehead, preparing to soothe any lingering pain, but Dean grabs his palm before he can, “I’m fine Cas. I just- you said you were on your way back, so anyway- how did the lead on Kelly go?”
“A dead end. I fail to see how this woman has concealed herself so effectively. All of the Heavenly Host are searching for her, it should be impossible.”
“We’ll find her, Cas.”
“I hope so,” Cas says, picking at his coat with his other hand, the left one firmly grasping Dean’s, “how was your case? Sam told me your phone had been destroyed.”
Dean hesitates. When he had texted Cas and mom from Sam’s phone on the way back to the bunker, he had deliberately left out details of him getting cursed. Sam had raised his eyebrows, but Dean hadn’t bothered to offer an explanation. He was sure Sam knew. But now with Cas actually in front of him, all dark circles and rumpled coat and general air of defeat and self-hatred, he can’t bring himself to add another burden.
“It went okay,” he smiles, “as well as it can go when Witches are involved.”
He pats Cas’s shoulder and stands up, ready to flee to his room and fall into bed.
“Dean,” Cas grabs his wrist, stopping him, “what’s wrong?”
“You were waiting for me,” Cas argues, standing up as well, “what was so important it couldn’t wait till tomorrow?”
He’s looking up at Dean, his eyes like the clear winter sky, limitless and accepting and so filled with pure affection that Dean crumples. He leans forward, resting his forehead on Cas’s shoulder, his hands going to Cas’s waist. The angel doesn’t bend or buckle at his weight, and simply holds Dean up, hands looping around Dean’s shoulders.
“I was cursed,” Dean says, his words muffled into Cas’s collar, “it was some crazy fast memory wiping bullshit, Cas.”
“Oh Dean,” Cas’s arms tighten around him, “how did you break it?”
“Sam asked Rowena for help. I didn’t want to worry you or mom and well… soon enough I didn’t even remember any of you.”
“I see,” Cas’s voice is calm and steady, making him feel somehow worse.
“Never thought I’d forget you or Sam,” Dean whispers.
Cas sighs and pulls away a little, resting his forehead against Dean’s.
“Memory is the one thing that belongs to an individual, the one thing that someone can possess in totality, the only thing that cannot be altered or destroyed by others in normal circumstances. Losing it - losing yourself - looking into the faces of the people you love without recognizing them, the agony in their eyes - the feeling that you’re missing something, like something’s slipping through your fingers… I know, Dean. I know.”
Dean blinks at him, at the overwhelming pain in the angel’s eyes. He thinks of Emmanuel, of those well-beloved eyes regarding Dean blankly on that long ago day, of his empty eyes in Lucifer’s crypt…
“I couldn’t even remember my own name,” Dean says softly, tears coming to his eyes.
Cas hushes him, looking distressed. He kisses the tears away, stroking at Dean’s back like a wounded animal’s.
“I - I was scared,” Dean whispers, looking away, at the seam of Cas’s collar, at the dark hair that curls lightly against his nape, "not of dying. It’s just - I tried so hard to hold on to the memories Cas, and I couldn’t stop them. I was alone.”
“Dean,” Cas whispers back, “I’m here.”
His hands creep up to cradle Dean’s face, the love shining in his eyes scorching Dean with its intensity. He kisses Dean over and over again, leaning him back against the table, whispering Dean’s name into every inch of his skin, every press of his lips a benediction, a promise. Dean shudders his way through it, holding on for dear life.
“I’m here… I’ll always be here. Even if I forget, even if you do. I’ll never let you fall again.”
Dean shuts his eyes, clinging to Cas. And believes.