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darkwing-katy · 3 months ago

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The Promise - Oneshot

Pairing: Benjamin Linus x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2,769

Summary: You’ve been on the Island for a while now, and tonight, you’re ready to try and ask your leader if you can go off-Island for a week. But Ben wants to make sure that you’ll come back to the Island…and to him.

It’s easy to extract promises when the person you’re talking to seems to be fixated on you.

A/N: Yeah, you know how some people enjoy celebrating fictional character birthdays? Happy birthday to our favorite manipulative bastard! Literally just a self-indulgent oneshot I came up with when I was super sick a while ago.

Tagging: (because I’m 99.99% sure y’all wanna be tagged in any Ben/Michael Emerson-related fics I post here haha) @erobias @vi-er @primosflowergarden

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You stare at the white door ahead of you. It’s now or never, (Y/N), you think to yourself. Now or never. With a deep inhale, you lift your chin, determined to not let your nervousness show. Nervousness will be seen as weakness, and that will not help your case in any way.

You lift your hand and knock once, twice, three times.

“Come in!”

You close your eyes and suck in another breath, then open them as you reach for the doorknob. It turns easily, and before you know it, you’re standing in Benjamin Linus’s house. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in here, but each time gives you a little thrill of excitement. There’s just something about Ben that fills you with a craving for more of him, more of his presence, more of his voice, more of him.

Okay, yeah, so you’re possibly a bit obsessed with him. But who wouldn’t be?

And now he’s peering at you through his glasses, tilting his head in what appears to be confusion as he reads on his couch. You allow yourself a moment to memorize the sight of him—you’ve only seen him in his glasses on one other occasion and it had been so unexpectedly striking that you’ve been trying to orchestrate a way for you to catch a glimpse of him wearing them again.

Of course, it’d be tonight of all nights. Right when you need your wits about you the most, there they are, all circular and gold-rimmed and perfectly suited to his face.

“(Y/N). To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks.

Now or never, now or never, you chant in your head. “I had a request,” you reply.

Ben raises an eyebrow, but it’s friendly. His lips curve just a hair, and he motions for you to come further into the house. You do so, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens as you draw close to him. He’s wearing a blue-striped button up shirt with his usual khaki pants, but the first two buttons are undone, revealing the white undershirt. His demeanor still screams that he’s in charge, that he’s the leader here, but in a casual way that you rarely experience.

It’s a little jarring to see Ben like this, but you’ll happily take it.

He inclines his head towards the ottoman next to him, and you take a seat on it, acutely aware of how close your leg is to his. There’s a modest gap between you, and you’re certain that he doesn’t know what his proximity to you does to your insides because he’s still giving you a pleasant smile, one that makes your stomach do little flips and flutters. His eyes are fixed on you, giving you his full, undivided attention. Your cheeks grow warm, but you’re not here for that. You’re here on a mission.

“I want to go off-Island,” you say.

Ben’s eyebrows raise higher. He wasn’t expecting that to be your request. “Why?”

Now. Or. Never. “My little sister graduates from college this week. I want to watch her graduate.”

He cocks his head in the other direction. “How do you know—,”

“I’ve had her graduation date memorized since the day she got into this school,” you reply, guessing at what he was about to ask. “I’ve been counting the days.”

Ben makes a humming sound deep in his throat. You’re not sure what that means.

“It’s only for a week,” you continue, leaning forward, bridging the gap between the two of you. “And then I’ll be right back here.”

Ben closes the book in his hands, sets it to the side. He mirrors you, leaning forward, closing that gap even more, one hand moving to the couch armrest. “What if you don’t want to come back? What if being back amongst your family makes you want to leave for good?”

There’s a strange edge to his voice, one that you can’t quite place. “It won’t,” you reply.

“How do you know?”

“It won’t,” you repeat, this time firmer. Ben doesn’t seem like he believes you, though, because he leans back with a sigh. How can you convince him? You’re not about to tell him that you can never leave the Island for good as long as he’s here, that a week with your family is nothing compared to years with him. You just can’t. You’re obsessed with him. You might even be in love with him.

But you absolutely cannot tell him that, can’t tell him that the thought of being apart from him forever wrenches at you in a way that fills you with dread.

You can’t go the rest of your life without those eyes in your life.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

You offer him a smile. “What if I promise to come back?”

Ben’s lips twitch, just a fraction. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough, (Y/N).”

“I could give you my word.”

His eyes bore into yours, then they flick downwards. You’re not quite sure what he’s searching for—you’re being truthful in everything you say.

So then you decide to try something a little bolder. It might completely fuck up your plans, but what the hell, why not?

You put your hand over his. “Ben, I give you my word that I’ll come back.” You lock your eyes on his, trying to will him to understand. You hold each other’s gaze for what feels like an eternity, unblinking, barely breathing. And then there’s a subtle shift in the mood, one that you can’t quite articulate, but you feel it shivering in the air.

You blink without meaning to, and the moment is gone, whatever it was. You draw back—when had you gotten so close to Ben, anyways?—but before you get too far, his hand flips over, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, holding you in place. You freeze at his touch. “Don’t move,” he says, but he needn’t have. You’re not going anywhere when he’s holding you like that. His thumb traces over your pulse, the sensation sending goosebumps up your arm. You pray he hasn’t noticed, but he’s Ben. Of course he has.

“Close your eyes,” he breathes, but it’s still a command. And one that you obey automatically.

You close your eyes and wait, unsure of what’s coming. Everyone treats Ben with respect and fear. You’ve heard some of the more…unsavory rumors surrounding him, but they haven’t stopped you from developing feelings for him. If anything, they’ve only made it worse.

Well, shit, you think. Your eyes move beneath the lids, but Ben had ordered you to keep them shut, so as much as you desperately want to open them, you can’t. You won’t.

And Ben knows this.

He’s been watching you when you’re not looking, catching those forlorn glances you sent his way. He’s seen the way your eyes linger on him when he’s around, the way you turn your head the moment you suspect he’s seen you in return. He’s made a mental catalogue of every little thing you do when you’re around him, the way your head lifts when he speaks, the way your eyes have traced over his face, the way your ears seem to prick up when his name is called by someone else.

He’s been paying attention to you, too.

He didn’t think you’d be this brave, though. Most of your interactions with him have been minimal, none so daring as this. He knew about your sister, of course. He might not care for his own family ties, aside from Alex, but he respects the connections of his people to their families. Only a few have asked him to visit the mainland, and he’s granted that request even fewer times. It’s too risky—the Island is his priority, and he cannot allow someone to abruptly decide to leave.

But you’ve given him your word, and there’s something else, too. He felt the trembling of your hand as you set it atop his. He felt your racing heartbeat, noticed the sharp inhale when he twisted his fingers around your hand. You like him, you have feelings for him.

It makes him feel powerful, and he quite enjoys that.

Now he wonders just how far he can take it. How far you’re willing to let him push you.

Which is exactly why he lets you sit there for a minute or two, testing your obedience. You don’t open your eyes, and he smirks—not that you can see it.

And then he decides to go even further. He removes his glasses, sets them aside, then leans forward and presses his lips against yours. He’s rewarded with a startled, questioning sound coming from your throat.

Is—Is—is Ben kissing me?! you manage to wonder, but as you do so, you lean back, pulling away. It’s not for a lack of wanting it to continue; it’s more born from confusion, from a sense of, Oh, my God, is this really happening?

You can’t help it; your eyes pop open and meet blazing blue eyes, sparking with mischief, with intelligence, and with—with a little bit of what you swear is desire, or maybe curiosity?

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes closed,” Ben says, a smirk curling up his lip.

And that does it. This time, you’re the one pressing your lips against his. Hell, this might be the only chance you get to live out this particular fantasy, and you’re not gonna waste it. You’re not gentle about it, either. You push hard enough to earn a noise from him, and then you’re thinking, fuck it all to hell as you climb off of the ottoman and into his lap, straddling him. His hands reach up and around you, pulling you further into him, and your hands work their way upwards, tangling in his short hair. You accidentally pull a little harder than you mean to, and Ben growls, deep in his throat, and oh, God, is that sexy.

His fingers dig into your back. It’s painful, but not enough that it makes you want to stop. In fact, it only spurs you on, and before you know it, a moan escapes from you, startling you. You pull back, chest heaving, and Ben is also breathing heavily, his eyes locked on your face. His pupils are wide, nearly obfuscating his blue eyes, and there’s a darkness within them that demands more, more, give me more.

You want to give in to that darkness, see where it takes you both, but then you’re hit by an abrupt wave of embarrassment. Holy shit, I just made out with Benjamin Linus.

You become dimly aware of the fact that you’re still sitting on his lap, that his arms are still wrapped around you. Oh shit, what the hell just happened?!

Your mind is scrambling to understand the last three minutes, but all you can think about is how good it felt to be kissing him, how much you wanted to stay right there, how much you wanted to rip off that fancy button-up shirt and run your hands up and down his chest. How much you want to devour him, let him do whatever he wants to you as long as you can do the same in exchange.

You shift awkwardly and bite your lip. “Uhm, uhm, so—so sorry,” you splutter. You attempt to slide off of him, but Ben holds you in place, keeping you trapped.

“What for?” he asks, unblinking, unfazed.

You swallow. Hard. “Uhm. For. Uh. That.” You wave a hand in the air, unsure what else to do to convey the feelings threatening to overwhelm you. “I didn’t, I didn’t, uh.” All of your words are gone, lost in the sensation of Ben.

He’s smirking now. “You didn’t?” He arches an eyebrow at you, and you gulp.

“Okay, so I did,” you mutter, and this time, when you try to scoot backwards, he allows you. You sit on the ottoman, Ben not once taking his eyes off of you. God, that stare is intimidating. “Sorry,” you add, just because you’re genuinely not sure if he’s offended or not, and it’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to him.

“Don’t be,” is all he says. Then, as if he thinks he needs to reassure you, “I didn’t mind it.”

Your face had cooled down, but his words send heat surging all throughout your cheeks and ears again. “Good, I guess,” you say, unsure of what else you could possibly say.

The room feels too large now, too open. You stand up, fully intending to run off and try to figure out what the fuck just happened. Ben doesn’t try to stop you, and you think you’re disappointed by that, until you reach the door. No sooner has your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob than you hear him.

“The submarine leaves in the morning and comes back in a week.”

You stop. Turn around slowly. Ben’s glasses are back on his face, his book open again in his hands like you didn’t just have a make-out session. His hair is still ruffled from your hands, though, the usual spikiness of it in sensual disarray. You flush at the sight, and then he peers at you through the golden rims.

“I expect you to be on it when it returns.”

You force yourself to smile. “And what if I’m not?” you dare to quip.

His eyes are sharp and cold. “Then I’ll have to come get you myself.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and it’s not altogether unpleasant. There’s a threat there, a threat and a promise, one you have no intention of breaking. You lick your lips and nod at him. “See you in a week.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “See you in a week, (Y/N).” And there it is again, that charm with an undercurrent of warning.

You leave, though a part of you longs to run back into his house and finish what you started.

Well, that’s not how I expected this evening to go, you think to yourself as you follow the sidewalk to your small home. It’s a short trek back to your place, and you distract yourself from all the intrusive thoughts of Ben’s mouth on yours by immersing yourself in packing. It works…for all of an hour.

The entirety of the rest of your night is spent wondering just how far Ben would’ve been willing to go…and if maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to pick up where you left off when you got back.

—————————————————————————

When you step onto the pier a week later, your duffel bag slung over your shoulders, he’s waiting for you. His hands are tucked into his khaki pockets, and the wind rustles his green shirt and hair. He seems aloof, more like a leader making sure that his people are okay than a man waiting impatiently for someone to return, but he’s there.

You tilt your head at him, but you can’t hide the smirk that creeps onto your own face. It takes everything you have to walk at a consistent pace, to not speed up in your eagerness to reach him. From the way his eyes are fixated on you, you suspect that he knows you’re holding back.

Soon enough, you’re at his side. “(Y/N),” he greets with a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ben,” you reply, your face twitching into a smile even as it heats up.

“You came back.”

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?”

There’s a spark of something, and the look in his eyes melts just a little. “You did.” His head cocks to the right, studying you. “Come over tonight. You can regale me with your adventures of the past week.” It’s not exactly a suggestion…not that you mind.

You’re still blushing, but you can’t resist the opportunity to banter. “You gonna make dinner?”

The rest of the coldness in his eyes thaws. “Naturally.”

Your smile widens into a grin. “What time?”

“Let’s say…6?”

“I’ll be there,” you reply.

“Is that a promise, (Y/N)?”

Your top teeth catch on your bottom lip. “It is indeed, Ben.” He chuckles, the sound filling you with a bubbling joy, and you continue past him, ready to unpack your belongings and take a nice, hot shower.

Then you can worry about getting ready for your evening.

#Ben Linus x reader #Benjamin Linus x reader #lost #lost fanfiction #lost 2004 #lost tv show #Ben Linus #Benjamin Linus #reader insert #Kate writes #I’m obsessed with this man sorry #happy birthday you manipulative bastard #genuinely not sure if I’ll leave this as a standalone or write part 2 #currently working on some Evil-related stuff sooooo #maybe if i get super sick again I’ll add to it #x reader

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