I Could Be Yours

possessive miguel o’hara has me in a chokehold

Possessive!Miguel trusts you but not those you interact with because he knew what every one of them were thinking upon looking at you because he thought the exact same thing.

Possessive!Miguel who’d watch from his hubbub as you interact with the others in the spider society under the guise of doing something else. It completely fools everyone but not Lyla, who would often catching him stealing glances and noting how his jaw clenched when the person you were talking to decided to get a little too comfortable.

Possessive!Miguel who’d definitely leaves bite marks scattered about your body when he’s feeling particularly possessive and would hide away any article of clothing that would allow you to cover them up so that people would get the message that you were taken. But when he noticed that some had healed, he takes up the task of replacing them with more marks.

Possessive!Miguel who is your shadow, following you whilst keeping a distance, thinking he was merely watching over you, which he was but one too many times had he followed you on the pretences of looking out for your well-being, when it was just him making sure to keep you within his line of sight, sending him into an almost feral state when you seemingly disappeared before his eyes.

Possessive!Miguel who only got possessive when he’s faced with the possibility of eventually loosing you one day to someone who truly deserved your love. It’s fascinating for Miguel when he’s aware of the moment his protectiveness became possessiveness towards you; Yet despite how possessive he may get, Miguel never lets it go to darker places where he would be pushing and pushing you away into the arms of someone else.

Possessive!Miguel who’d holds onto you really tight, face pressed into your neck, whispering ‘you’re mine,’ ‘there’s nobody that you’d rather be with then me,’ ‘I need you,’ ‘you belong to me,’ ‘don’t leave me when I still need you in my life,’ ‘see the way you fit within my arms? It means that we were meant to be.’ And so on like a mantra that you didn’t know who it was made for, you or himself for reassurance.

Possessive!Miguel who’d may or may not keep you inside the house when he feels as though something bad was encroaching and his first instinct was to assure that you were safe, even if it meant keeping you locked inside until further notice but he makes sure you have everything that you require until the danger passes over.

A/n: I kinda ran out of stuff to put here and this might seem a little lacklustre but at least I tried and gave it an attempt. Plus half of this probs ain’t within the realm of possessiveness but eh.

Apples

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You tossed an apple to Luke without knowing the meaning of it in Greek Mythology (fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: Just wanted to write something lighthearted and funny. Since I saw somewhere that apparently throwing an apple at someone means something in Greek Mythology, thought I should use it as a prompt.

Word count: 3.1k

You have been at Camp Half-Blood for a year. Within that time, you’ve been claimed by your Godly parent, learned so many things about Greek mythology, and, best of all, made friends who understood exactly what you were going through and all whom you loved dearly. 

One of them was Luke Castellan. You two were relatively close friends, though you swore he treated you differently than he would with others at camp. But you didn’t want to be foolish and assumed it was something. That didn’t mean you don’t treat him differently than you would with other campers though. You have always had a soft spot for Luke in your heart. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but you found yourself thinking about him too often.

“Anyway, Percy. Don’t worry too much, honestly. We all have been through what you’re currently going through. You’ll fit right in, yeah?” the younger boy offered you a lope-sided smile as you patted his back and stood up. 

“Alright, boys, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later,” you said before grabbing your plate, which would have been empty if it wasn’t for the apple you hadn’t eaten. The rest of the table - which included Chris, Luke, and Percy - said their goodbyes before chattering again as you walked away. However, you halted as you changed your mind about wasting the apple.

You turned back to look at the group before calling out, “Hey, Castellan.” However, you were slightly caught off guard to see Luke already having his eyes on you.

Luke swore that you have always had him mesmerized. If he even heard a whisper of your voice, his head would immediately try to locate you. To make matters worse, Chris even started calling Luke a “lost puppy” when he realized how your departure would always leave Luke like one. 

“Catch,” you tossed your apple at Luke. 

Multiple heads turned in your direction as the red apple hurled through the air before landing neatly in Luke’s hands. The Hermes cabin counselor had his eyes glued onto the fruit that was in his palms. You almost halted in your steps from his and other camper’s reactions. Some started whispering to their friends, pointing at you. You even heard one gasp. But you ignored them, finding it strange that people cared so much about such a small interaction.

“You can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to eat it,” with that, you vanished from the scene, leaving at least half of the camp agape, including Luke and your friends. 

Then, the strangest of things happened for the next few days. It started with Luke already stationed outside when you exited your cabin the morning after. He cheekily presented you with one singular flower in his hand, and you took it with playful words, “Ooh, what did I do to deserve this special treatment today?”

“Nothing, just thought I should show how much I appreciate you,” Luke put his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the dining pavilion. You could feel your cheeks flushing at his action. He has never done this before. With his arms around you, the sides of your bodies brushed as the two of you walked. You noticed almost immediately how every other person would have their eyes on the two of you. But you ignored the attention and focused on Luke instead.

The sweet actions didn’t stop at flowers or more physical touches. For the next three days, Luke was stuck to your hip. So it was quite strange that you have not spotted the Hermes cabin counselor in the last two hours. Hence why you were spending some time with Clarisse, another close friend of yours. However, you felt an arm swinging around your shoulders, and you instantly recognized who it was from the familiar touch.

“Hey, Clarisse, can I borrow Y/N real quick?” Luke asked, quickly muttering a “thank you” when your friend nodded. “So, I have something to give you…” your face must have shown how surprised you were because he chuckled at your reaction. However, when the boy pulled his gift out from his cargo pocket, your mouth fell slightly agape at the reveal. 

Luke must have misinterpreted your reaction because he started nervously rambling, his voice a few octaves higher, “It’s not much, but honestly, this is all I can do with my arts and crafts skills. I’m just not really good with that y-”

“It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you so much!” you gave him a brief hug, but it was enough to stun him for a second. Luke felt this urgent sense of craving from how your bodies fit for a second. It’s as if he was made to hold you. He almost pulled you back into another hug but had to force himself to regain composure. Nevertheless, that didn’t last long because his eyes softened again at the sight of you trying on the bracelet he made. The beads in your favorite color, crafted with care, wrapped around your wrist perfectly, and you wonder how he knew just the right size to make it.

The truth was Luke had to ask Clarisse to steal one of your bracelets just so he could make a bracelet of the correct size. But you didn't need to know that, though - according to him.

The next night, there was a social gathering near the campfire. Luke reapproached the location with a hoodie in hand. Earlier, Luke excused himself to fetch the clothing item that was now in his hand that was meant for you. However, his brows scrunched as he spotted another figure next to you, sitting in the spot that he previously occupied. You were laughing at something they said. The way your laugh echoed in his head usually sounded like a lullaby or the enchanting voice of a siren. But right now, the idea that someone else elicited the same laugh made him want to hurl behind the bush he was standing next to.

Little did he know you were zoning out from whatever the other boy was speaking about, thus the fake laugh to not blow your cover. You were distracted just thinking about Luke and everything he has done so far - offering his portion of dessert to you because he knew it was your favorite; him winning Capture the Flag and ignoring everybody else to go hug you first, then having his eyes on you and only you afterwards; sneaking out of camp to go buy the items you mentioned once that you wish you had at camp and so on. 

Your mind quickly reminded you that the boy sitting next to you was still talking to you. However, when you snapped out of your thoughts again, you realized now he was looking at you expectantly and you scrambled your mind for a reply.

Thank Gods Luke plopped down on your other side, saving you from having to admit to the other boy that you were not listening to him. “Hey, you’re back,” you commented. Luke’s arm automatically threw itself around your shoulder and tugged you to him slightly. Your body leaned on the Hermes cabin counselor ever so naturally at this before you turned to him. Luke quickly set his clothing on your lap, and you stared at it questioningly.

“You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” your cheeks flushed again at how he knew without you telling him. You shivered maybe once or twice earlier due to the night air lowering the temperature, but it was so brief you were sure nobody had noticed. As you put on the hoodie, Luke averted his gaze from you to the guy on your other side. 

The Hermes cabin counselor arched one of his eyebrows in a challenging manner. Almost immediately, his ‘opponent’ slightly raised both of his hands. Luke internally snickered at the quick motion of surrender. 

“My bad, man,” you heard the other boy say as you managed to put your head through the clothing item and pull it down. Luke was physically preening at the other boy’s words and departure. Meanwhile, you were distracted by how you were engulfed by the smell of Luke from his hoodie. Your height difference also meant you were swimming in it, but it felt so comfortable.

“What was that?” you asked once the other boy was gone. 

“Nothing…” even the most oblivious person could see that Luke was lying. But, once again, you did not question his actions and carried on with the gathering. You could also feel other campers staring at the two of you, but you ignored that as well. 

That night - like every other night since four days ago - he walked you back to your cabin. You were honestly completely smitten by the attention he has given you, not that you would admit that to him. You were still not sure what caused the change, but you were still elated about it. Maybe he did return your feelings? Either way, everything felt perfect lately, and you went to sleep that night feeling like the stars aligned for you.

“I guess congratulations are in order?” Percy spoke up as you lined up for food the following day. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking the plate of food. Today’s meal consisted of mac n’ cheese, steak, and an apple. 

“You’re engaged?” you almost dropped your plate at that and gave the son of Poseidon a questioning look. “You proposed to Luke like a week ago?”

“What? When?”

“When you threw him the apple? That is considered a marriage proposal.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, in Ancient Greek culture, it’s considered a marriage proposal if a man throws an apple at a lady. But, I mean, it’s the 21st century, so I guess it can work both ways.” Percy finally took a plate of food for himself. “And if the recipient catches it, it’s considered an acceptance.”

“You saw this and knew this whole time without telling me?!?” 

“I thought you knew! And you two seem so smitten already, so I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Percy, no! Is this a well-known thing? Do you think other people who saw it too thought I proposed to Luke as well?” Seeing Percy’s look and how he was fumbling with his words, you quickly requested, “Actually, no, don’t answer that.” 

The two of you walked over to Luke and Chris with plates in hand. You picked up the apple on your plate and placed it on the table. 

“Luke, we need to talk,” You deliberately placed the fruit there, hoping the boy would get a hint about the topic you wanted to discuss. Luke’s eyes flicked from the fruit to you. Though the hint of amusement in his eyes and a sheepish grin made you realize he knew all along. Luke stood up and followed you out of sight and hearing distance from other campers whose eyes were trailing after the two of you.

“You knew what it meant, and you didn’t tell me?” You broke the silence as soon as you two were far away enough. 

“Listen, I appreciate your proposal. But, it’s a little bit fast, don’t you think?” Luke teased, and you instantly hit his arm at that, causing the boy to flinch slightly, but the smile on his face told you he was anything but mad at your action.

“But you caught it. So, technically, you said yes,” you rebutted, sighing as you rubbed your face, “My Gods, does everybody at camp think we’re engaged? Wait, is this a substitute for an engagement ring? Did you give this to me because of that?” you pointed to the bracelet Luke gave you, your mind now understanding Clarisse’s teasing and her implications. You could see the way Luke was stifling a laugh. He settled with saying something else when he saw the pure panic on your face.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” the nickname successfully silenced you. You hated how it made you feel, but you would not mind hearing that daily. “No, it’s not an engagement ring.”

“Oh, so were you doing all of these romantic gestures and gifts on purpose to make fun of me and the situation?” you asked, though it was more with a lighthearted tone than one of temper. However, something shifted because the expression on Luke’s face changed from one of humor to earnestness.

“No, I didn’t do all this to make fun of the situation or you…” Luke’s voice fell off as tried to find the right words to say next. In that split second, Luke took a deep breath, and you could see how nervous he suddenly became, though he still kept a light tone. “I did it because I took it as a chance to maybe…win you over, and it also gives me an advantage because it fended off many other guys.” 

Undoubtedly, you were frozen in place, unable to register the words he was saying and the implications they bear. Neither did the boy in front of you act like the Luke you usually know - somebody who was usually confident, outgoing, always having his way with words. No, the person in front of you could not even hold eye contact, the pink hue on his cheeks now spreading to the tip of his ears as he shifted left and right. Luke broke the silence first, giving away the nerves that were gnawing him away from your lack of response.

“How about this? I’ll say ‘no’ to your mind-blowing marriage proposal for now,” you lightheartedly hit him again, rolling your eyes playfully. Seeing a positive reaction from you, Luke let out a small breath of relief, but the nerves quickly overtook again as he mustered up all the courage to utter his counter proposal: “But maybe we could start with something slower like going on a date? — Or I’ll even settle with you allowing me to try and ‘woo’ you.” Luke added the last bit as insurance, in case you didn’t want to take up on the date. Part of his mind wanted to scowl at himself for seeming so desperate - but Gods, he has always been a desperate man when it comes to you. 

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yet you still proposed to me.”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Luke only shook his head in response. Once again, you haven’t responded to his offer. Luke could see that you were in deep thought, the cogs turning in your head as you digested what he just said.

“You mean it? That you wanna go on a date? That you wanna “woo” me and sweep me off my feet?” you questioned. Despite the humor in your voice, there was also a hint of vulnerability and cautiousness. “Does this mean what you’ve been doing for the past few days…they are all genuine?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I like you? I don’t think you even fully understand the feelings I have for you. I’ve had my eyes on you for a year now, which is the entire time I know you, and I’m afraid I can’t see that changing any time soon.” Luke had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying more because he was sure he would never stop talking about you if he could. Maybe those unspoken words ought to be things Luke would disclose in the future. If you give him the chance, he will ensure you hear everything he adored about you.

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I happen to like you too,” your words made Luke’s eyes snap to yours, almost in disbelief. 

Luke felt as if his heart was blocking his airway by the way it was thumping so hard in his chest to the point he could feel the vibration in his neck. He held his breath over your confession and the way you were looking at him. Oh, Luke was convinced he was utterly doomed because how could he be so affected by one single look. He was suddenly unsure whether he would be able to handle your affections or ever live without it if it was taken from him. He’d spend the rest of eternity like a deprived man.

“Aw, look who is nervous now,” you teased, deciding to somewhat torture him and get him back for teasing you earlier. “I did not think I had this kind of effect on you, Castellan,” you approached him slowly, keeping eye contact with his now dilated pupils. 

“I mean…all I did was say a couple of words and you’re all tongue tied. What would happen to you if I do this?” you swiftly grabbed Luke’s camp beads and pulled him down, eliminating a significant amount of space between your faces, though not completely. To steady himself during your action, Luke’s hands steadied on your hips and stumbled slightly, though you did not mind the touch.

You never knew it was possible for his face to flush even more, but it did. Luke gulped and your eyes casted down on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he did so. The way he reacted to you only intoxicated you with power even more. You glanced upwards a bit, eyes observing his lips for a split second before looking back up at his eyes. You smirked when you caught his eyes flickering back to yours from your lips as well. 

Just as you were about to close the distance, Luke pulled back just a bit, finally able to speak, though his words were heavy warnings, “If this happens—” Luke stopped, unsure he should let you know. Luke shook his head lightly as his eyes traced over your features before continuing, “If we kiss, there is no going back for me. I don’t think I could just…forget about it. So, please, just be sure before you do it.” Your eyes softened at his words.

“I promise, Luke. I am sure,” you muttered, though Luke knew you meant the words by heart from the way you were looking at him. 

You finally pulled the boy down again using his camp necklace. 

As your lips touched Luke’s, he let out a content sigh. His hands clung onto your hips, pulling you flush against his own body while you caressed both sides of his face in your hands. Luke felt like the world was swallowing him whole. The boy now knew what your lips tasted like, and it felt like an addiction. He could feel his heart waving white flags at that moment, completely surrendering to you. He was right before. There was no going back from this. 

But oh, if Luke knew an apple was all it took, he would have tossed one to you himself.

----------------------

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requesting for chishiya !! i dont really see anything abt him being flirty, so i'd LOVE to see smth like after the game with king of diamonds when he starts to open up yk, maybe chishiya had feelings for op when they were at the beach but never told them that cause he didnt >want< to feel that way, but after all that talk with kuzuryu he wants to change but doesnt rlly know how so he just starts flirting with op at any given chance basically :]] like calling them pretty and holding their hand/waist yk and maybe just dropping some "wanna makeout?" but its SO CLEAR that hes trying really hard and has no idea of what hes doing (that man does NOT flirt usually

I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR THIS !!

I am a firm believer that chishiya is definitely a huge antisocial dork outside of the borderlands and with his partner, so this request hits home

"A" for Effort

Summary: God, who would've thought Chishiya Shuntaro could fail at something so gracefully—alternatively, the one where Chishiya tries flirting for once.

Genre: fluff, aib!au, ooc chishiya (he's a dork in this one)

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1k

"You know, I can make a bomb out of that with enough batteries and wires." Chishiya mused, a hint of pride in his voice. You froze midway through your actions, the cola can you were holding suspended in midair, inches from your lips. "That's very cool of you, Chishiya."

"Yeah," he hummed. He slid his chair closer to you, making the old floor of the abandoned apartment creak. You'd be lying if you said his closer proximity didn't make your heart flutter.

Uncharacteristically, he slid an arm around you, seemingly aiming to land on the armrest on your other side. As soon as his palm hit the wood, it gave in with a sharp snap, making the blond jolt forward. His chin hit your shoulder, sticky soda liquid spilling as your arm jerked alongside it.

For a split second, he looked mortified, eyebrows raised slightly and his mouth agape. Quickly enough, he caught himself and slid back into his stoic expression. He cleared his throat, "I just have to cut that top part open. The wiring goes in and then the pull-ring after. It's really easy—I can teach you if you want."

His breath was on your skin, deep brown eyes burning into yours. When they're close enough, his eyes no longer looked cold nor judgmental. They were soft, gentle—they were windows to the vulnerabilities and brilliance hidden beneath his hard shell. His pupils seemed to dilate when he whispered, glimmering with wonder under the candlelight.

"You're really pretty."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Eyebrows raised, you let out a hum in surprise. What has gotten into him today?

"Sorry?" You couldn't help but smile. It was an awkward one, given how you were unused to interacting with him like this, but a smile nonetheless.

His arm was still around you, limply laying on the side of the chair before he decided to press it onto your waist. For the first time in his life, Chishiya's fingers trembled. He was praying you wouldn't notice the almost imperceptible way his fingers shook over the fabric of your shirt. You pretended not to notice.

"I think your lips are really pretty," he said as a matter of fact.

He didn't know why you were looking at him as if he just blew someone's head off. Truthfully, it wavered his confidence and he started to rethink his approach. You still hadn't said a word for you were trying to figure out if this was really happening, but he mistook this silence for rejection.

"I'll uh—" he moved away from you, standing up to go towards your makeshift bed of papers and pillows. The bed in the apartment came with questionable stains, and you were adamant about never touching it.

"Chish-"

"I'm going to sleep," he grumbled, frustrated at himself for failing at something he considered to be simple. Why was it suddenly so difficult to talk to you?

Whatever fire Kuzuryuu ignited in him has certainly dampened a bit. He felt defeated—stumped—that the perfect plan he concocted didn't pan out the way it usually would. He thought that now was the best time—he had just came off from beating a king, you found a place the King of Spades seemingly hasn't touched yet, and the both of you managed to unearth unexpired strawberry candies that actually tasted good. Today was supposed to be lucky.

He'd thought of all the variables, and processed the multiple backup plans he had up his sleeve, yet when that fucking armrest broke, they all went down the drain. He was curled up in a ball, back facing toward you. He didn't want you to see him in such an embarrassed—pathetic—state.

"Humans aren't formulaic," he thought.

Sighing, you stood up. You blew the candle, the resulting wisps of smoke trailing up towards the ceiling. Chishiya lay motionless, and if you weren't any wiser, you would've thought that he had actually fallen asleep already.

You sat crossed-leg next to him. The plastic of his earphones glinted under the moonlight, peeking through strands of bleach-blonde hair. You gently plucked the bud out and the blown-out bass of a heavy rock song greeted you. He tilted his head slightly in your direction.

You leaned down, bringing your lips closer to the curve of his ear. "I think you're pretty too."

For a beat, he was unresponsive. Then, he rolled onto his back, now facing you fully. His lips quirked up, giving you the smallest of smiles. He propped himself up on his elbows, cocking his head to the side. It's almost as if it was a challenge for you to continue.

"I don't know what got into you, but I do know that it gave me the courage to tell you this," you bit your lip. "I have feelings for you."

He cocked an eyebrow up, pleasantly surprised and almost in a teasing way. So the plan did work. Not in the way he thought it would, but it still came to fruition.

Your noses were almost touching. You wanted to close the gap, to meet his chapped lips that vaguely smelled of strawberries—he swore he wasn't using lip balm but you begged to differ. He was yearning for this as well. God, he was so mesmerized by you.

So pretty, so pretty, so pretty.

"If you're having trouble with getting the lid off, I can always help you with some pliers I found."

"What are you talking abou—is this about the fucking bomb again?"

He cut you off, finally pressing his lips against yours. Snaking his hand behind your head, he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. You still hadn't quite figured out the intricacies of his mind. His behavior was sometimes erratic—although he was calm and calculative, he can also be unpredictable and warm.

There was a multitude of thoughts running through your mind, the loudest one being the drive for the both of you to make it out, to survive. And without saying it, you knew he wanted the same thing.

Keep Moving Forward

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Just want to say a massive thank you for everyones lovely comments on the last part, I can’t believe how many notes that has now 😱 I’ve got a taglist so if you want to be added or removed (I just stuck down everyone that commented or reblogged the last one with tags/comments) lemme know! Also I’ve got my own version of what König looks like and I’ve been including details so hopefully you like my thoughts on him 🥰

Part 2 of A Rocky Start

Part 1  |  Part 3

-☠️-

A forbidden crush, a whole unit of men watching out for any missteps and a job that required you to be on your A game - it all sounded a bit like a bonkers netflix plot, but no this was your life now. You were desperately trying to hide your little (massive) König crush, while trying to get through your days and it was going horribly. The universe was working against you. 

Keep reading

love how casually Leigh did this reveal 😄😄

Leigh: so Jesper is a Grisha.

fans: screaming crying throwing up 😱😱😱🤯🤯🤯

Leigh: ......what? u guys didn't know? oh well 🤷‍♀️

one having to sit in the other’s lap when space is tight and them both blushing like crazy over it With teammate Max please ❤️

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s too short but I just messaged my crush for the first time and don’t have the guts to check if he answered bc I’m a coward with rejection issues.

this doesn’t look very professional | Max Verstappen blurb

You hated the TikTok.

They should be banned from existence because they carried the existence of community managers, I ever eager marketing people whose ideas always involved getting dirty or things like that. Of course everyone enjoyed the semi formal conversation between Max and Daniel.

But now you wanted to disappear as you noticed only two small couches, one for Christian Horner and the other for you? For Max? It didn’t make any sense, of course this was scheduled and crew knew it was both you and Max.

Max was asking for a new chair or something, trying to use his firm charm that only he knew how to make it work, instead you were serious, lipa on a straight smile because you don’t recall this ever happening when Checo or Daniel were driving.

“Guys, I’m sorry but I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Christian checked his Tag Heuer. “Let’s get this done,”

“We can leave it for another day,” Max suggested and everyone, except you, denied his idea.

“We can make it look intentional, you can sit on top of Max’s lap and viewers will think you’re good friends, it’s a win-win,”

Before you could protest, Christian chimed in, saying it was a terrific idea.

Of course Max sat first. His body rigid and weirdly placed his arms on the armrests, making it clear he wasn’t touching you. His stance didn’t change when you sat on his leg, trying your best to not touch him and being almost on his knee, ready to run away

The interview started, you noticed Max’s body relax a little bit against you, which resulted in you very slowly making yourself more comfortable on his leg

But then…

The screen that contained a fan question from twitter was too long and your eyesight wasn’t that good. Forgetting you were sitting on your teammate’s lap, you inclined your body and losing balance.

Your face was ready to meet the ground and it wouldn’t be pretty; there’d be blood and maybe a broken tooth.

But you felt Max’s quick hands holding your waist tightly, very tightly.

Nobody said anything, they didn’t even laugh as your cheeks flushed, and Max’s squirming underneath told you he was just as red, suddenly the room feeling too small.

But his hands didn’t leave your waist for the rest of the interview.

Right Timing | Charles Leclerc

Notes: 11k words of Charles and y/n pinning for each other…your all (hopefully) going to love it xx

this is my first post in about 6 months and I'm so happy to be back! thank you all for the continuous love and support I fucking love this app. this fic hasn't been proof read but oh well, ignore some spelling mistakes, sorry. anyways... ENJOY!!!

Blurb: One where you have a huge crush on your best friend's brother, the one and only charles leclerc, since you were a teenager, with him continuously telling you he was too old for you and you had no chance. You eventually gave up hope and moved on. But did charles? (Best friends brother troop/ slight enemy’s to lovers troop/ Older boy and younger girl)

Warnings: lots of angst, crying, sad y/n and sad Charles. lots of arguments and slight nsfw? but not really. Small age gap.

11.1k words

Arthur leclerc, your best friend since nursery… Your favourite partner in crime, your favourite laugh on a bad day, your favourite person in the whole wide world. Best to be described as home, your comfort person. He was the voice within reason, all that was right in the world. 

He's your best friend.

Y/n y/l/n, she was truly and utterly his favourite thing about the world. He counts his lucky stars he has her to help him carry his weight. Y/n was the only person Arthur let visit him when his dad died, and in his books, that made her alright. Sure she would make him want to scream and cry and punch walls, especially with her choice in men. But Arthur was always there for her, when she needed to laugh or to cry he knew what it was she needed at any given moment, he could read her like she was his favourite book. 

She was his best friend. 

—

How it started:

A little girl with puffy red cheeks sat at the bottom of the nursery playground. Her legs crossed on the green summer time grass as she sniffled again, gently plucking a daisy for the ground before adding it to the daisy chain she was making. She liked to say she enjoyed her own presence, but truly she was distracting herself from the lack of company. With the other young girls teasing her for her wild curly hair, she willingly chose to be sat on the grass of the playground alone.

“Hey! Can you teach me how you did that? I wanna make one for my mum!”

And with no regard for her personal space he sat down next to her on the grass, squashing half of her daisy chain, but she didn't tell him that.

He didn't care that she was crying or that she had poofy hair or that she was even a girl, he was eager to learn her talents and carry on with his lunch break.

But when Arthur noticed the signs that the girl was rather shy and sad he thought he would stay with her for the rest of lunch, keep her company.

Little did she know this company wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

And at age five, the pair promised to be friends for life.

It didn't take long for them to get their mothers talking, and after that it was set in stone, playdate after playdate. Arthur's mum became your mum's hairdresser, so there were many nostalgic memories for the two in the salon, especially when y/n would accompany her mother to her appointments. The pair's best memory is y/n letting Arthur cut her hair in the storage cupboard of his mum's shop. The horror on both parents' faces when one of y/n's pig tails were held in the hand of the young boy.

Their friendship only bloomed from there…

After spending almost every weekend watching Arthur and his older brother race in karts in the rain, to spending most afternoons around the leclerc residence playing with Arthur on his xbox, the girl felt like family.

When she was young she always found herself drawn to the middle leclerc. He was away a lot of the time, karting. He was slightly older so no doubt he found the pair childish and would always moan when he was made to spend time with them.

Charles' mother was the first to figure out your little crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the family on a winter skiing trip, you were around thirteen. It was your first time up in the mountains, so when your arms started to wave and you felt your body lean way too far back Charles did the only morally right thing, dropping the glove he was putting on and outstretching his body to catch you in time.

He didn't catch you in time. 

Instead his heroic act to save you turned into humiliation when he realised you had taken him down with you.

Pascal carefully watched as you turned around, her eyes glued to yours that were glued to her sons. She watched your tinted red cheeks as Charles scoffed and begged you to get off of him as his bare hands were now engulfed in the thick snow, causing him to suffer with a cold for the rest of the holiday.

Your eyes widened and sparked at the sight of him. You would gaze up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, an expression his mother would soon get used to as she watched you fall for her son over the next few years. 

Charles was older, and very uninterested. He didn't find your little crush as cute as everyone else did, the thought it made him look uncool. He would roll his eyes when you would grab his arm or duck when you would try to kiss his cheek. He hated when your families would go out for meals and you would sit next to him, or how you would call him after a race to congratulate him, no matter his result.

Charles always saw you as his little brother's best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

That was until your first boyfriend. A three year age gap wasn't that big of a deal as they all grew older. Charles found himself having mutual friends with his brother and would occasionally bump into Arthur and you at a party.

You were 16, you thought you had met the love of your life, an older boy, he was 18, around charles age who was now 19 and worming his way into f2. 

Arthur didn't approve of Joao. He knew you were trying to prove to charles that the age gap isn't that big of a deal after his brother had repetitively told you you were to young for him, but somewhere down the line you found yourself mesmerised by Joaos eyes and that was it for you, charles no longer rented the forefront of your mind.

Joao was great, at first. You knew he wasn't the love of your life, but for the moment he looked to play the role quite well, and you were happy. You just didn't expect it to end like it did, maybe age gaps do matter?

You were at some house party in the hills of monaco, some friend of Joaos. You were downstairs in the kitchen with Arthur as he watched you drink your body weight in alcohol. He could tell something was bothering you but he chose not to mention it. In all your years of friendship he knew you would come to him eventually. 

“Where is the lover boy anyway?” he spoke up.

Your lack of response is when Arthur clocked onto your boyfriend being the reason for your excessive drinking. Him ditching you, yet again.

You slammed down your empty red cup, wiping the dribble from your chin as you decided enough was enough and you looked for the presence of your boyfriend. 

Arthur bid you good luck on your travels as his attention was now turned to the girl he had been eyeing up across the room.

And with your liquid courage you stumbled around the party. The house was huge. Gigantic windows that draped around the whole house. Everywhere you looked was so picturesque, making you fall in love with Monaco more and more. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights leading down to the beach front. From the other end you could see continuous hills leading up into the stary sky, tiny specs of light from homes probably just as big and fancy as the one you were currently standing in swarmed your vision, a far cry from the apartment you and your mother shared where your view was a brick wall to another apartment complex.

Your heels were rubbing the back of your ankles as your hands gripped the bottom of your dress pulling it down as it was miles too short as you made your way out to the garden.

And there he sat, on the steps leading to the lit up outdoor pool, your boyfriend. A skinny little blonde girl sat on his knee. She was older than you, clearly. She took the cigarette from his lips and placed it on her own as her other arm draped over his shoulder. It was like this week after week, it was like you were a ghost.

This isn't the young love you put out for, and you decided enough was enough.

You always forgave him, but tonight was different. This night changed everything.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned back into the house, you were going home. Joao caught a glimpse of this as he jumped up and followed you back into the house, why he would always chase after you you still don't know.

“Y/n, baby stop.” you ignored the sound of his voice as you pushed through the crowds of people to get back to the kitchen in hopes that Arthur was still there. He wasn't.

You made it to the kitchen before he grabbed the back of your arm pushing you against the kitchen island. His hand came up to wipe away a fallen strand of hair as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Come on y/n i didn't even do anything-”

“She was on your lap.” your voice crooked, you so desperately didn't want to be the little girl everyone thought you was and cry, not in front of everyone anyway. 

“It's not that big of a deal-”

“It is that big of a deal! I'm humiliated!” you shouted back, creating a scene you so desperately wanted to avoid.

“I just- I just want to go home.” you said in between sniffles.

“Baby, don't cry, let's just go back to mine, okay? I'll call a taxi-”

“No, I want to go home, my home.” you begged, the tears were falling now.

His grip tightened around your arm as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I need to find Arthur, and I need to go home.” you said, pushing his arm as he still had you pinned against the counter.

“Oh come on y/n, drop the act you know you want to come back to mine.”

You threw your head back dodging his fingers that were trying to touch your hair again, avoiding his eyes.

“Joao let go, you're hurting me.”

That only made his grip tighten around your arms, pushing you against the counter even harder than before. As he leant down to your ear-

“She said let go mate.”

Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt joao grip loosen as he stood back.

“Yeah and what are you gonna do about it, leclerc?”

That's when punches were thrown and Joao was hunched over holding his busted lip. Joao was grabbed by another person before he could lunge back at who you assumed was Arthur, but as you turned your head you saw a different leclerc shaking his hand. His knuckles were red, and his eyes were darker than the ones you were used to, charles.

“y/n get in the car.” he said, you stood up, sniffing and nodding your head. But then you remembered your missing friend.

“Arthur-”

“I'll get him. Get in the car.” his tone was strong, not what you were used to from the middle leclerc. 

You waited by his car in the cold for a few moments just before Charles came out the house, a stumbling tipsy Arthur under his arm. There was pink lip gloss smeared over his cheeks and lips, and at that moment you felt a small smile creep on your face. 

However, the car ride home was silent, you sat in the front with Charles, as Arthur passed out in the back seat. Faint french music played from the radio as charles eyes were firmly gripped on the road.

As you rounded the street to your home Charles finally spoke up, “You really know how to pick them.”

You sniffled again, unable to reply to him mainly because he was right and you were embarrassed. As the car came to a stop Charles undid his seat belt mumbling that he would walk you to your door.

He balanced on the back of his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight your tear stained cheeks. Charles thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half an hour, your hair hadn't been brushed and you were rummaging through your purse like a mad woman, he still thought you were pretty. He would never tell you that though.

“Don't tell me you've lost-”

“Got them!” You giggled, shaking your keys in the air before whipping your nose for what felt like the fifth time that night. You stalled as you pushed the key in the door, turning to look Charles in his eye for the first time since the party.

“Thank you-” but he cut you off, not wanting to hear it. You were his brother's best friend, Arthur wouldn't forgive him if he ever watched you in a position like the one that night and didn't do anything.

“Dont.”

“No really, thank you, charles.” You smiled, Charles smiled too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Charles and not charlie.

After a moment you dropped your bag on the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head rested on his chest as he hastily moved his hand and rubbed your back.

“Just make sure the next one isn't a total dick, okay?” he whispered, his chin placed on the top of your head.

He didn't know how much that sentence broke your little 16 year old heart.

You smiled and entered the house, Charles didn’t drive off that street before you waved at him out your window.

On the drive home we looked back at his younger brother, drooling on the back seat of his car. 

It was that night where he realised the both of you weren't all that different, but so far apart.

The first time Charles saw you after that night was a couple months later, a family day at the beach. You had turned seventeen in that time and joao was old news. But charles eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sat in the sand on your own. Sipping from a bottle of beer that you most likely stole from his crate, your toes were dipped in the wet sand as you watched the sun set on your own.

Arthur had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, Arthur's attention was stuck on the pretty blonde that was talking to his nan.

The rest of your families were distracted too, or so Charles thought. His mum watched him intently as he walked back to the car park, grabbing a spare jumper from his car before making way down the beach front to join you.

He spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party he just wanted to make sure you were okay. 

He crouched down in the sand next to you, aware of how your eyes were on him. He placed the jumper on your legs,

“You're going to get a cold.”

You scoffed but complied. Putting the jumper over your head and pulling at the sleeves, it smelled like him.

“How are you?” you asked charles, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the monegasque sea.

“I'm okay.”

The boys lost their dad a little under a year ago now, you hadn't really seen Charles since. But he knew you hadn't left Arthur's side for them few months.

“How you holding up, really?” you nudged his shoulder with yours, he did his little signature smile before looking down at his lap. Avoiding the question.

“Thank you. For looking after Arthur I mean, he's lucky to have you.” 

“Charlie…”

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn't pressure him to answer your question, insted you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the coastline in silence.

Charles appreciated the silence and the way you didn't push him, moments like these he understood why Arthur loved you so much.

“It will be alright you know.” you hummed on his shoulder.

“I know.” Charles whispered back.

“Really, i can already see Charles leclerc, ferrari formula one driver. Your face will be all over Monaco, and we're all so proud. He'll be so proud.” 

Charles hated how much you believed him, because in that moment a nineteen year old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself everything felt impossible. 

“Don't forget about me when you're all big and famous, yeah?” you smiled up at him.

Charles looked down at you, his eyes were glossy but the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, he threw his head back in a laugh. 

“I dont think I'm ever getting rid of you.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “at least your self aware charlie.”

After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place.

“y/n..” he whispered, oh how he whispered your name in his little broken accent, your heart melted as he backed away.

“I know, I know.”

You smiled and placed your head back on his shoulders looking at the sun that was nearly gone.

“You know I'm too old for you, right?” Charles whispered as he leaned his head on yours that was resting on his arm.

“I'm in it for the long game leclerc.” Charles giggled as he let his cheek get comfy on your head, pushing his side into you as you fully watched the sun disappear over the sea.

On the night of your 18th birthday Arthur had taken you out to your first club, you drank, alot…

Charles happened to be at the same club, so when your drunk body collided with his you couldn't help but wrap your arm around his torso, clinging onto him.

He gently placed hand on the small of your back smiling as you leaned on him.

Charles was 20 now, soon to turn 21 and had just signed a contract with alfa romeo, he was officially in formula one. Even Though you were proud of him you missed having him around. 

You stood on your heels, leaning up to his ear as Charles met your movements and bent down to hear you better in the loud club and your heart fluttered at the small action of his ear hovering near your face.

“I'm eighteen now charlie.” he could hear the smile in your voice.

“I know, happy birthday mon amour.” kissing your forehead, this was the closest you had ever been to him before, and you craved more. He had never called you the nickname before, he was teasing you.

“I'm officially an adult nowwwww.” you longed out his ear before you hand palmed his cheek. You so desperately wanted to kiss him.

“Y/n.” His tone was serious as he caught onto your intentions.

“Y/nnn.” You teased him back, imitating his serious tone and rolling your eyes as you do so.

“I know you want to Charlie, come on…” you giggled at him, but you were drunk and a mess, so the arm around your waist was to stop you from falling flat on your arse not because he just wanted to touch you, you thought. You pushed his hand off you and stood up straight, Charles sighed as he placed his hand back on the small of your back, you looked up at him. The stupid little puppy dog eyes that he refused to listen to.

“I'm too old for you, love.” Charles' hand once again held you close as you started to lose your balance again, “and you're too drunk.”

“Drunk on love.” you exclaimed, Charles laughed, like really laughed and you couldn't help but admire the creases around his eyes. He moved your arm over his shoulder so he could hold you up.

“Let's find Arthur and get you home, okay?” but as Charles pulled away you pulled him back.

“I've waited eighteen years, Charlie, I'm sure I have the patience to wait a bit longer.”

Charles thought maybe you had forgotten that night, but you remembered the way his hand was filmy stuck to the small of your back most of the night, and how he lent down to hear you and how his stubble felt in the palm of your hand, and the butterflies only got worse. 

You were falling harder everyday and you hated yourself for it, he didn't like you back.

Charles carried on with his f1 career with alfa romeo that year and you took up a journalism degree, following around arthur as he navigated the world of f3. You would occasionally bump into Charles when the boys had races at the same circuit. 

But with his first Monaco race you obviously had to be there to support him.

Charles hated how his heart beat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his garage with your old ferrari cap on and an alfa romeo shirt with the number 16 on the back hugging your chest. 

You truly had blossomed into a beautiful young woman and Charles found it harder to stay away. Your hair isn't frizzy anymore and you had for sure gone through puberty, he didn't like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

The worst part is you hadn't even openly flirted with him in a while, and he couldn't seem to figure out why, and that bothered him so much more than he liked. 

The small little y/n that used to follow him everywhere, always latched to his arm, looking up at him with heart eyes. I mean, you weren't sixteen anymore that was sure, but Charles couldn't help but feel a sense of abandonment that you weren't head over heels for him anymore. 

Charles needed to snake off that weird feelling in his stomach.

You were now 19 about to turn 20, it was the off season and you couldn't wait to soak up some sun on the leclerc yacht. Your favourite summer getaway.

You drove up to the small paddock on a little beach and climbed onto the grey boat, it was charles’, of course. The whole family was there, you were talking to pascal as arthur pulled you around the side of the boat, nearly causing you to break an ankle.

“Erm hello? Watch it.” you scolded him for pulling you so ruffly.

“You're over the whole in love with my older brother thing, right?” he asked, his hand running through his hair.

“I- i why?” you said, clocking your head to the side at Arthurs panicked manor. He knew you had been doing great this year, and he also knew why you declined every single boy that had attempted to ask you out on a date this year. 

“Okay, erm,'' Arthur stood up straight and scratched the back of his head.

“Forget your stuff, let's just get off this boat. And er, don't turn around okay?” he tried to nonchalantly say, his hands gripping your shoulders were a dead give away something was wrong though.

You nodded your head and followed Arthur down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

“Since when have I ever listened to you? I going to read my book on the sun-”

Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Charles, your Charles with a girl.

A pretty girl, beautiful actually, she was slim and perfect and her smile was enough to make you want to crumble in a ball. 

She was leaning on him, grabbing his bicep as her hand brushed through his hair, he was laughing like really and truly laughing at whatever it was she had to say and you had never felt emotions like the ones you felt in that moment.

You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out himself, no remorse, and had just served it back to you on a silver platter.

He really didn't want you. 

“y/n, i didn't even know he was bringing her i-”

“You knew?”

Arthur sighed before running his hands through his hair, “it's been around four months, mum really likes her, she's nice. I mean she's not you, but he's happy so i can't complain.'' Arthur shrugged his shoulders, not sure how to console you in that moment.

You turned away from the happy couple and sat on the small steps that lead down to the bottom of the yacht. Arthur sat down next to you, pulling your body into his as he wrapped his arm around you.

“What about me? When will I be happy?”

You hadn't realised you were crying until Arthur grabbed your arm and pulled you straight off the boat.

That was your wake up call, you had spent too much of your life waiting for someone that never wanted you. 19 years to be exact, a sad sad story to anyone that knew you. You were embarrassed and angry at yourself. 

You needed to actually move on. 

So that's what you did.

And that's when you met him, a young british boy, he was around your age and drove for a papaya team that shared the f1 grid with charles.

Lando norris.

He was 20, awkward, way too cocky for only his second year, and when you bumped into him in Bahrain of 2020 you chose him to be the one to make you move on.

He asked for your number a few races later and the two of you used to text all the time. He took you on cute picnic dates, asked if he could kiss you before he did, and overall was the kindest most respectful boyfriend a girl could ask for. You were actually happy, and it only took nineteen years.

It was imola when you bumped into Charles in the paddock, his brother wasn't here so he was confused as to why you were here, but then he saw the McLaren hat on your head and his eyebrows furred evenmore.

“y/n?”

“Hello, charles.” you gave him a tight lip smile before moving past him but he chased after you why you walked down the paddock strip. Past the ferrari garage.

“You're a McLaren fan now, huh?” 

“Yep.”

Charles' heart hurt at your bluntness, he grabbed your arm so you would stop walking and talk to him. 

“y/n.” serious charles. That stupid tone that usually made you freeze and obey whatever he had to say.

But this time you rolled your eyes and pulled your arm from his grip.

“Charles, I really have to be somewhere.” you lied, checking your watch.

“Like a journalism thing? Why didn't you tell me you were going to be here, you could have flown with me and Joris?” and Charlotte, but he didn't mention that.

You really tried to pull your eyes from the red drivers suit that was wrapped around his hips, he was a ferrari driver now and you had never been more happy for him. You just wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him how proud you were of him. 

But right at this moment, you had never wanted to create more distance between you both.

“y/n?” 

Both of your heads snapped as Lando ran up to you, you coughed and took a step back from charles.

Landos arm wrapped around your shoulder as he put out a fist for Charles to spud. Charles' eyes were glued to landos arm resting on your shoulder and he could feel the blood pumping in his heart speeding up.

Lando kissed your temple and Charles' eyes were glued to yours. 

“Charles.” Lando smiled nodding his head.

“Lando.'' Charles' voice was laced with venom, not that Lando noticed. 

“So you guys are?” Charles' eyebrows furred pointing between you both.

“We havent you know, labelled it yet. It's still kind of new” you smiled, it had been months.

“But I'm happy, really happy.” Charles knew that was a message to him, you were happy and he needed to leave you be. But with Lando of all people, Charles couldn't seem to shake this one off.

Charles mumbled something about needing to be somewhere and walked away from you both. Lando again oblivious to the interaction as his arm stayed secured around you and he balabbed on about the race as you walked to the McLaren motorhome.

Charles hated him. 

Charles hated himself for his feelings.

He didn't know why he was so bothered, he had never been this bothered, nothing gotten to him like you and Lando just did. Joris told him maybe it was because he had a soft spot for you deep down, he joked that maybe Charles liked you back and Charles ignored him for the rest of the weekend at that accusation. But that didn't mean he didnt ignore his words. 

It was over, you grew up and he should feel relieved you've moved on, right?

He broke up with Charlotte a month later.

Charles scoffed when you first bought lando along to family night, he hated how your mum loved his accent and how arthur laughed at all his jokes. He hated that he hadn't caught your eye all night, instead your eyes were glued on the stupid little british boys. Charles hated it, he sat there like a toddler that hadn't gotten their own way all night. He knew it was wrong but he hated his feelings more than he hated lando being sat at his table.

Charles was in the kitchen, he was picking at the leftover pie on the table top as everyone else was outside fawning over one of landos stories, he had really charmed the family.

His mother walked into the kitchen as he was taking a bite of cherry pie looking like a caught child, she laughed at the cherry stains in the corner of his mouth and passed him a tissue.

The pair stood in silence for a moment before Pascal spoke up.

“That's definitely not allowed in your diet, my sweet.” she smirked knowing the driver's strict diet.

“But you won't tell on me maman.” Charles flashed his puppy dog eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. She sighed and moved closer to him as he stood up straight. 

“You have a lot on your mind my boy, and don't tell me you don't because I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Maman.” Charles sighed.

“This is about her isn't it?” Charles' eyes refused to look at his mother at her words.

“I don't even need to say her name, it's her, it will always be her.” she smiled as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

“She's happy, Charles.'' he heard the sternness in his mothers voice.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Charles scoffed again.

“So then you know you're being an ass, right?”

Charles' eyes widened at his mothers language but she just laughed and waved him off.

“After all the years she spent pining after you, Charles, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.”

“But what if I'm not happy?” he asked his mum, she just sent him a sympathetic smile and grazed his cheek once more.

“Do you love her?”

“I dont know.” Charles shrugged.

“See, it would be cruel to break her heart over this kind of uncertainty. Either you love her or you're just jealous. You have a lot of thinking to do my boy, but don't do anything until you're really sure. She's fragile when it comes to you.”

Charles nodded his head.

His mum was right, he really did have a lot of thinking to do. 

And as if on queue there she was, walking into the kitchen, the widest smile on her face as she grabbed another beer from the fridge. She had started to let her curls rome free recently and it was sending charles’ heart into a spiral, with her stupid little shorts and crocs and no doubt she had conned lando into giving her his jumper. 

She used to do that to him, Charles thought, remembering all the times you had tricked him into stealing his hoodies. 

She smiled at Charles mum and told her again that the food was lovely, nodding at Charles, and she left just as quick as she came in.

“Maman, I'm so in love with her it physically hurts me.”

And there it was, the words you had so desperately wanted to hear your whole life, but you didn't hear a sound as Charles vowed to never say it again out loud. Your happiness came before his.

Charle suffered for a year, he knew he loved you, he had said it out loud once and the vulnerability he felt in that moment knowing you were stood just 15 feet away with the boy you were in love with was enough to make him swear to never voice his feelings again, he was embarrassed and wanted the world to swallow him whole. The worst part was the guilt, he could only feel like he had let one of the best things go, slip straight from his grasp all for a bit of pride. He didn't want to be seen with the young naive girl that had a crush on him, but now he just felt stupid. Stupid that he didn't recognise your love for him sooner, he had always thought you were one of the most amazing humans he had ever met, he found himself looking for you in other people when he didn't even know it. He was stupid, and he knew that for sure.

Charles dedicated the rest of the year to focusing on his f1 seat, with ferrari fucking him and sebastian over and over and after his wins at spa and monza he felt hungry for more and felt that the true love of his life should be formula one.

But his heart hurt when he didn't hear from you after his win in spa, and then it crushed him again when you didn't contact him after his result at monza.

No call.

Not even a text.

He had fully let you slip from his grasp.

It was a long year for Charles that year, and as summer break quickly approached he found girls and training were his favourite pastime. He stopped turning up to family events when he knew lando would be there and you were in love and happy. After a while it was a rarity he would even stay at an event for an hour.

He was 22 and as a new season started the only thing he was talking from lando was his teammate, not that charles was complaining. He liked Carlos, and he was ready to step up and take that 1st driver's seat. He was ready to make everyone proud just like you had promised him that night on the beach.

After a while charles mothers birthday rolled around, one he would definitely not miss as his mother requested a small family meal. Everyone was sitting, looking over the menu when Charles undoubtedly noticed the missing presence of you.

“Where's y/n?” Charles asked Lorenzo, who was sitting next to him.

Lorenzo just shrugged and turned his attention back to his menu, was it normal for you to not attend family outings? Charles hadn't been around for so long he didn't even think to consider that maybe she didn't turn up to these things anymore either.

“With Lando I suppose.” Charles murmured, he tried not to sound jealous but the older brother just laughed.

“Lando?” as he turned to his younger brother.

“Why would she- you really haven't spoken to her have you?” Lorenzo asked, his eyes widening at the thought of his brother being so dumb.

Charles just shrugged his shoulders as he urged his brother to continue.

“They broke up, a while ago actually.”

Charles didnt know why his shoulders felt lighter but he chose to ignore it and try to press some more information out of his brother.

“So? First break up, we've all been there, doesn't mean she can't be here for mamans birthday.'' Charles rolled his eyes as he tried to act like he didn't care.

“She's not even in the country charles.”

Charles' head snapped towards his brothers, “She's taking a gap year, last I heard she was staying in Australia for a while.”

Lorenzo could see the gears turning in charles’ head; he knew he wanted to ask more so he answered for him.

“Hey Arthur, where's y/n these days?” Lorenzo asked his other brother who was at the other end of the table with his girlfriend.

Arthur shrugged before answering, “Still in australia at the moment, she really likes it there, but i told her she cant like it to much because there's no way i'm sitting on a plane for twelve hours every time i want to actually see her face and not on a phone screen.” arthur joked, everyone else laughed along with him for a moment until charles countered up the courage to speak up.

“Why didn't she just travel with formula one? She wanted to be an F1 journalist anyway.”

Arthur's eyes narrowed at his brother. 

You definitely hadn't meant to cause it, but there was a small crack in between the brothers' relationship within the last year. Arthur definitely blamed Charles and his stupid effects on you for you running away.

“She wanted to be away from f1 for a while.'' Arthur told his brother like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world, hoping to squash this table subject, not really wanting to talk about his run away best friend.

“I mean I don't blame her, especially when her Lando ended like it did. She's living her best life.” Carla, Arthurs girlfriend chimed in. Arthur slightly winced at his girlfriend's words not wanting this to be the dinner conversation tonight, especially when Charles clearly knew nothing about y/n's life within the last year.

“What?'' Charles asked the table, but no one answered him, instead everyone's heads were down dead planted down at the table, everyone except for Carla who had no idea what she had just started.

“Why did no one tell me what's been going on?” charles raised his voice slightly, catching the attention from everyone else on the table.

Charles mother intervened knowing where this was going, “charles, not right now-”

“No, she's been going through something and no one even thought to mention it? What the fuck.”

Arthur was visibly turning red, Charles noticed as Lorenzo's head was shaking telling his little brother now wasn't the time, pleading Arthur to just bite his tongue.

“Say it arthur.”

The flame was lit.

“And who do you think upset her in the first place, charles?” Arthur tutted, picking up his menu pretending to scan it so he didn't have to pay attention to the conversation anymore.

“Drop it, arthur.” Lorenzo sternly interrupted.

“Considering no ones told me anything how the fuck am i supposed to answer that question?” Charles spat back at his brother.

Arthurs cheeks were a visible red now, he was about to blow up. Something he had been holding in for a while. He slammed his menu down and turned to look at his older brother.

“You know what Charles, you have no right! No fucking right, sorry maman for the language-” charles mum just put her hands up in defence as she let her youngest son get it all off his chest. 

“She loved you, and you constantly broke her heart and told her no and then when she was finally happy in a relationship you had to go tell the world you love her so much that ‘it physically hurts you!” Arthur mugged his brother's words.

Charles was shocked, he had no idea what was happening. 

No one knew of his feelings towards you, no one except- charles head snapped towards his mother who pulled a tight lip smile and just shaked her head in a no. Charles was about to deny deny deny when-

“Yeah, she heard it. And it fucking broke her charles. It was mean and it was selfish, and I've never despised someone more than you for what you did to MY best friend.”

“Arthur-”

“I'm not finished. Then you have the decency to finally come to a family meal for the first time in nearly a year, nearly a year charles! And ask about her like you didn't completely cut her and us out of your life? You're selfish, completely and utterly selfish charles.”

Charles sat at the table pale, he felt the colour drain from his face as he scrambled to find the words to say but his mouth didn't open.

“You really do pick and choose your moments brother, I don't know why I even came tonight, I'm sorry maman but I told you I wouldn't be able to sit in a room with him.”

Arthur stood up, he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and took Carla's hand in the other.

“I'm really sorry maman, and everyone else, happy birthday, i guess.” Arthur gave his mother a hug and walked out of the restaurant with carla. Leaving everyone else at the table in pure shock.

Especially Charles, he had know idea what to say, he looked up at his mother opposite him who looked at him with sympathy.

“My sweet boy, I'm sorry to say it but there was some truth to your brother's words. I told you she was fragile.”

Charles felt awful.

Charles felt like he was going to cry at the table.

It had been a long year for Charles, he had groveld for the most of it, thinking you were happy somewhere while Lando flew you anywhere and everywhere around the world. Now he came to think of it, maybe there was a better reason for the young mclaren driver avoiding him.

He wasn't really friends with Lando, but his teammate, Carlos was close with the boy and whenever there was an offer for the three of them to hang out Lando magically had something come up and couldn't attend. 

It all made sense now. Even the fact he hadn't seen you in the paddock, he thought maybe you were caught up in your studies, oh how he was wrong.

He sat at the table for the rest of the meal, and with every passing comment he didn't think he could sink more into his chair.

He was an awful person, he thought.

When the family were leaving the restaurant Charles hugged his family members, swallowing the anxiety and embarrassment down.

He looked over at Lorenzo who sent him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Tonight wasn't supposed to go like that, i told arthur to just drop it i-”

“No, it's okay. I deserved it.”

“I dont know, you fucked up, but you didnt need to run, nether did she.'' Lorenzo, his older brother shrugged.

“What happened? With her and lando." Charles pushed.

“alot .” lorezono chucked.

“I don't know if it's my place to-” enzo sighed at that stupid little puppy dog face his younger brother was pulling.

“I'm pretty sure she cheated on him, Arthur said as she fell into a bit of a hole. So the only thing she really could do was just leave Monaco for a while. She seems good, Charles, healthy and happy." Lorenzo shrugged, watching as Charles' eyes widened and he latched onto every word. 

“If it's any closure she's not mad at you, Arthur, well I'm sure he would be he loves y/n like a twin sister, but she's not mad at you. She was just confused and hurt.”

“If i call her-'' Charles started but his voice flattened as he realised it would ne dumb to contact you.

“Call her Charles, I'm sure she would be happy to hear from you.”

You knew what today was, arthur's molthers birthday. You had called her in the morning sending her your love and wishes, she told you that Charles was attending the meal and Arthur would be on his best behaviour, little did you know.

You wondered if Charles knew what you were up to, if pascal or lorenzo had been keeping him in the loop.

You were at the beach, cocktail in hand and book in the other, your earphones were in as you hummed to the faint sound of the music and read, but you were disturbed when the rigging was a call from your phone echoing through your earphones, charles.

Pick it up.

Pick it up.

You couldn't do it.

Your body froze in place, you pulled your airpods out, throwing down your book, not caring that you lost the page you were on. You took in a deep breath and picked up your phone, and just as your thumb hovered over the answer button, the ringing stopped.

He had called you?

You needed a moment to think about what you were going to say to him, what he would say.

You so desperately wanted to hear his voice, it had been a year, and you wondered if that was enough time for feelings to vanish.

You looked out at the calm seas for a moment, did you really want to fall back into a loop of pining for him like a puppy. You loved him, loved, past tense. You were a grown woman now, so you opened your phone and called him back.

Ringing.

“Hello?” his voice echoed through the phone.

“Charles?”

You heard his sigh of relief over the phone, and your heart melted all over again, he hadn't even spoken yet, but the closeness of his presence made it all too real.

“I'm sorry.”

He's sorry?

“Charles-”

“I'm sorry, okay. Arthurs right, I was mean and I was selfish and you deserved so much more than what I did to you. From the bottom of my heart y/n/n, I'm so so incredibly sorry.”

“It's- it's okay.” 

You forgave him.

“It's not.”

There was a silence that lingered for a moment.

“What I said, what you heard, it wasn't supposed to happen like that. I really didn't want it to happen that way.” he pleaded over the phone, his breathy voice echoing through the speaker.

“I want to see you.”

More silence.

“Please, y/n.”

“Okay.”

More silence.

“Soon, okay.” There was promise to your words.

“Soon.” he repeated, as though it was something for him to hold onto. 

Soon.

“When I'm ready Charles I'll come home, I'm just not ready yet.” you winced at your own words because you so desperately wanted to see him too.

“Then don't come home- i'll come to you, i'll catch the next plane if i have too just tell me where you are-”

“Charles, I'm not ready yet.” you interrupted him. 

Silence.

Charles wanted to cry, hearing your voice and knowing you were just within reach he wanted to see you, hold you, apologise as much as you would allow him to. He wanted to kiss you and hug you and love you forever, but you weren't ready.

“I'll wait for you, okay? Soon or not.” his voice cracked, and god did it melt your heart.

“I'll see you soon charlie.”

This was feeling a little too much like a goodbye for charles.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I too late?’

“Time doesn't apply when it comes to you.” and Charles had hope. He hadn't fully let you slip, yet.

Charles would now spend every waking moment wondering how soon was soon?

But after a while he figured ‘soon’ was a little long, three more months to be precise.

You had left Australia, travelled around more like you wanted to, and you came back to Monaco just before the end of the f1 season.

Charles was already in Abu Dhabi by the time you landed back in monaco.You had asked everyone to not tell him of your arrival.

You were sitting with Arthur in his mothers living room, just like the old days. You told him about your travels while he updated you on his love life and gossip in the paddock.

You had missed this.

And it wasn't until pascal passed you a warm cup of tea and sat with the two of you, sharing her own gossip from the hair salon you realised how much you were ready to be home again.

Arthur had run to his room quickly to grab his trophies to show you and as he walked out of the room your eyes lingered on the suitcases by the door.

“You're going to Abu dhabi?” you asked pascal.

“Tomorrow.” she smiled at you.

Pascal could visibly see the gears turning in your head, she placed a hand on your knee and smiled up at you.

“I don't want to pressure you y/n, and i know you just got back but you should consider it.”

You knew what she meant and you nodded at her with a small smile, and Arthur came back.

You went home a few hours later and sat in your room, if you go you'll see him, but you're going to see him at some point regardless. 

You felt vulnerable.

So completely scared, but that didn't stop you from texting Arthur that night telling him you were going to join him and his family tomorrow.

You were going to see him.

Your time was up.

You were ready.

You meet up with the leclerc family at the airport in the early hours of the morning, your suitcase gripped in your hand as you were mentally preparing yourself to sit on the plane and go over any and every possible outcome this weekend could have.

Arthur sat with Carla at the front, and Pascal was fast asleep. But the chair next to you suddenly became occupied when you looked up and saw the eldest leclerc.

“You look well, y/n.” he smiled down at you.

“Thank you.” you smiled back at lorenzo.

“I think the time away did you good, no?”

“yeah, i really needed some space, but now i'm back and just feeling a little..” you stumbled on your words, struggling to describe your emotions.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“Does he know you're coming?” you knew the ‘he’ lorenzo was referring too.

“I dont think so.”

“He's going to be happy to see you.” lorenzo nudged your shoulder.

“I hope so.” you nervously chucked.

You took in a deep breath and looked back at the eldest leclerc brother, “I'm just anxious, I have no idea how this weekend will pan out. The next time I'll be back on this plane going home I could be happy, sad, crying or planning to run away again. I just feel so lost.”

“Lost isn't a bad thing.'' Lorenzo shrugged.

“He's just as lost as you y/n, trust me. I just hope you both figure it out, you both deserve the peace of mind. And if this all goes to shit, you still got on this plane today and tried.”

“I just don't want to get my hopes up.”

“Then don't, sometimes things aren't just meant to be.”

That's what was worrying, you had loved this man for years, and now was the deciding day if he loved you back or not and you don't know if you were ready to give up the fantasy of him

being the love of your life up yet.

You weren't mentally prepared for the shit outcome of this story, you didn't know if you could handle Charles breaking your heart another time.

When the plane landed and the warm air hit your skin you took in a deep breath. Time to face the music.

You went straight to your hotel, it was a Friday so Charles was about to participate in fp1 by the time you turned up to the track.

The smell of burnt rubber and the sound of happy fans filled your ears, you had missed being in the paddock more than you knew. This place was your home.

You were walking with Arthur and Carla when your name was called, judging by the accent you knew it wasn't the monegasque, it was the papaya coloured boy running up to you.

You told Arthur and Carla you would catch up with them as you stopped and smiled at lando who had now reached you. 

“Hey.” he smiled.

“Hey.” you smiled back awkwardly.

“Listen lando, you deserve an explanation-”

“It's okay y/n, we were young, it was a while ago you’re forgiven.” Lando chuckled as he poked your shoulder.

“But that doesn't mean what I did was okay, you deserve more than what I gave you.” 

Lando gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Consider it done with, okay? No hard feelings.”

You smiled up at the British boy, he looked good, he seemed well and that made your guilt feel a little less painful.

“I erm, I have a girlfriend actually, she's great, her names luisa.”

You watched as he lips upturned at the mention of his girlfriend, he was smitten.

“I'm happy for you landini.”

You both laughed for a moment, the free air was nice. Seeing lando meant there was a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing, I didn't want things to be awkward.” he said.

“I don't think I could ever be awkward around you.” Lando smiled at your words.

“Are you still thinking about becoming an F1 journalist?” he asked, remembering how it was your dream, he had also hoped your disappearance in the paddock for the last year wasn't his doing, stopping you from reaching your dream.

You smiled as he remembered, “I'm working on it.”

“Well i hope i see you around more often then, you deserve it y/n, really.”

Lando was getting called from the other end of the paddock as he had to be in his car within the next 10 minutes, you both shared a hug and it felt nice to feel comfortable with him.

His hands squeezed your back before saying a quick bye and skipping down the paddock. 

As he pulled away and walked past, your eyes connected with them all to familiar grey ones you were so nervous to see.

Charles.

He didn't seem too happy though.

He had just watched you smile and laugh with your ex in the middle of the paddock and then hug him bye, even though you thought nothing of it, Charles' mind was spinning.

There he was, a tight lipped smile right opposite you. He had grown out his stubble and he looked tired. You knew he hadn't had the best of seasons with Ferrari, you didn't keep up with it too much, it upset you that his childhood team had failed him massively. 

He nodded his head and followed his press officer in the opposite direction, but you weren't going to let him go just yet.

“Charles, wait!”

And before you could process it you were running, sprinting down the paddock after him, but he had already disappeared into ferrari hospitality.

“Shit.” you mumbled as you jogged down to the garages in hopes of catching up with him.

You scanned your pass and walked into the back of the garage Pascal had walked up to you and grabbed your hand.

“You need to put some headphones on dear, it gets loud in -”

“Pascal, where did he go?” you asked her frantically, like a mad woman out of breath.

“Charles?”

“yes!”

A slight smile just appeared on her face as she turned around, “Be quick dear, I think I can see him putting his balaclava on.” She pushed your shoulder and you walked around the red barrer that clearly said ‘no public entry’.

“You can't be back here, ma'am.” a security officer grabbed the back of your bicep.

“No, I need to get through, it's an emergency.” you whined, pulling your arm from his grip.

“I'm sorry ma’am, it's a safety hazard.” the man's grip tightened on your arm as he pulled you away from the back of the garage. You pushed off him but his grip only improved as he swept you off the floor, lifting you up at your attempt to run. You kicked your legs like a child learning to swim and kicked arms that trapped you.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have no choice but to remove you from the garage.” he said, trying to dodge your feisty little kicks.

“And If you don't get your slimy huge hands off me right now i'm going to-”

“y/n?!”

Your head snapped at the sound of your name, Jorris, Charles' best friend.

“Jorris, oh thank god!”

“She's okay, she can come in.” Jorris grabbed your other hand and wiggled you away from the huge security man's grip as he dropped you back to the floor. You brushed off your dress and gave the security man a dirty look before turning to Charles' best mate.

“Jorris, where is he?” your breathing was rapid and your heart beat feeling like it was thumping out your chest.

“y/n you really shouldn't.” he sent you a sympathetic smile.

“Please.” you pleaded with him. After seeing you try to fight a six foot five security man Joris really didn't want to feel the wrath of you right now, so he complied.

“You have five minutes, follow me.” he led you through the back of the garage.

Whenever Charles got in the car he liked to be left alone to his own devices, it was his switch off time, but you knew on some occasions he didn't mind the company, you just needed to talk to him, tell him you were here for him. You didn't want him getting in the car overthinking that you were here for lando.

And before you knew it, there he was, standing in front of you, you were painting out of breath with your hands on your knees as you looked up at him.

Charles giggled as you held up a finger to let him know you were still getting your breath back. He pulled his ear pieces out of his ear and zipped up the rest of his race suit.

“I hate to rush you, but I have to be in the car in four minutes.” Charles frowned, “and four minutes aren't enough for what I have to say to you, y/n.”

“Let's keep it short and sweet then.” you stood up straight and smiled at the boy.

“Im sor-” he started but you cut him off.

“That's not what I meant by sweet.”

Charles squeezed his eyes and winced at his name being called behind him, he opened his eyes and saw you beaming up at him and he knew he was in love, he just wasn't going to tell you yet, especially not if he had just witnessed you make up with lando. Lando made you happy, Lando didn't break your heart on multiple occasions like he had. Charles wouldn't blame you if you went back to the British driver.

You tilted your head to the left and smiled at Chris, Charles' manager. He was pointing at his watch and tapping his foot.

You looked back at Charles and took in a deep breath, you stood on your tip toes and placed your arms on his shoulders, gently placing a kiss to his cheek.

Your soft lips connecting with his ruff stubble is something Charles cherished, he couldn't wipe the Cheshire cat grin off his face.

“I know it's only a practice session, but good luck out there charlie.”

“Thank you.” he smiled, trying to hide his blush. He couldn't believe he was blushing and how the roles had reversed between the two of you.

“What about lando?” he had to ask, it was on his mind.

“I'm not standing next to Lando wishing him good luck right now, am i?” you smirked at him.

Charles smiled before looking back at his manager, he bent down and kissed your forehead like he had done a thousand times, but this time it felt different, electric, it felt like love. It was love.

“I'll be waiting for you, okay?” you told him.

Charles smiled to himself, he wasn't too late.

If anything was on Charles' side that day it wasnt timing. Charles finished fp2 with a few flying laps and a heavy heart, his first plan was to find you but his press officer had forced him to do interviews, and then he had a meeting and then he had checked his watch and it was way past nine and he knew you were probably back at the hotel by now.

He huffeed as he left his meeting, grabbing his jumper and keys and saying goodbye to the engineers that were going to work on the car overnight.

He had it all planned in his head, he was going to get some flowers on the way home, knock on your hotel door and ask you on a date.

“Charles!” called out his manager, he really hoped he didn't have to stay in this hell hole any longer, he just wanted to leave the track and get his girl.

“What?” he huffed.

“She waited.”

“What?” Charles repeated, his manager now having his full attention. 

Charles caught the way his manager's lips turned into a devilish smirk, but he wasn't looking at Charles, yet something behind him. When he whipped his head around there you were, his heart thumped at the massively oversized ferrari jacket one of the staff must have given you to keep you warm while you waited.

You just smiled at him and waited for him to walk to you, but charles sprinted, he was a man on a mission and when he got to you his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you up in the air for a moment before he dropped you back down, his hands still remaining tightly wrapped around your torso.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear before placing his forehead on yours.

“Take what's yours charlie.” you smiled. 

Charles' thumb gently traced over your plump bottom lip before he placed his hand on your cheek, smiling like an idiot. 

He slowly grazed his lips on your before gently adding pressure and connecting your soft lips with his in a quick kiss. A kiss that was full of smiles as Charles pulled you as close to him as possible. Towering over you as he kissed you unlike he had kissed anyone ever. The way your lips moved in sync with his was magic to him, it had never felt like this before.

He pulled back letting you get some air, before using that as leverage to stick his tongue in your mouth, he put all his power and passion into the kiss and it was just as you imagined him to be with you. Sensual and passionate. 

Your hands ran along his shoulders and up to his head where you gently tucked on his hair. Charles groned on your lips and eventually pulled back, he giggled as he placed his forehead on yours again. 

“All mine, finally.” He said through a wide smile.

“I've always been yours…”

Thank you for reading!! Here’s a gif of baby Charles because this is how i imagined him when y/n had her teenage crush. Bare faced and spiky hair🥹

Jude and Cardan

Break Me Down - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is a heavy one, but ultimately shifts her relationship with Ben…

Word Count: 6,700 Trigger Warnings: (18+ only.) Attempted sexual assault, violence, mentions of domestic violence, torture, and past trauma. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.   

Part 6: A Hot Meal

Frank informed you the next morning that Simone, the new chef, had to call in sick. Apparently she’d slipped a disk in her back after yesterday’s festivities. 

Poor thing. You wished her a safe recovery, and an STD panel. 

But that left you and a handful of hungry men gathered in the kitchen like stray cats.  

Soldier Boy’s crew was a mere few. Some were former military, all were gruff, grisly-looking guys.

Frank was their leader, stocky and stoic, and an ex-Marine from the Dominican Republic. Followed closely by Saul, who was a taller blonde from Idaho, and ex-Navy. 

Then there was Lorenzo, appropriately nicknamed “Loco,” who reminded you the most of Frenchie. Loco was Colombian, lean, and covered in tattoos, but generally the most laid back and always cracking jokes (dirty or otherwise). 

You’d learned that he’d been in the same unit as Frank. And he was the one who took the second shift on watching you in the beginning of your imprisonment. 

And finally, there was asshole Tony, the only true local. But you didn’t hold that against the rest of Colombia. 

He at least was still sleeping after an all-night job, according to Frank. 

You assumed Ben was still in bed as well, because he hadn’t yet graced you all with his presence. 

The rest of them were staring into either the fridge or the pantry, trying to work out breakfast. 

“I could whip up some eggs,” Loco said. 

“You mean those rubbery shits you made yesterday?” Saul quipped. Loco frowned, but shrugged in admission. 

“We’ve got cereal,” Frank pointed out. 

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Loco asked hopefully. 

“Raisin Bran.”

“Maldito hijueputa. I can’t live like this.”

You watched them fumble around like they’d never seen the contents of a fridge before, shaking your head in disbelief. Were all men really this helpless? 

You sighed and stood up from your stool at the breakfast bar. 

“All right, guys. Step aside,” you said. “My powers are limited, but I can attempt an omelet of some kind.”

Frank discreetly let out a relieved breath, while Loco made fervent Catholic blessings to the Virgin Mary. Saul seemed to be reserving his judgment until he tasted said meal. 

You smiled and took out two cartons of eggs, some evaporated milk, onions, garlic, ham and cheese, and some fresh spinach you found in the vegetable drawer. Then you rooted through the pantry and found the seasonings you needed, like sea salt, pepper, and oregano.

Yvette taught you this recipe, and it was one you’d been successful with before. So it stood to reason that you could do it again. 

Within half an hour, you were serving sections of two massive omelets to each man (seriously, it might as well have been a quiche), with a generous portion for yourself. Though you still saved a large piece for Ben…and yes, even Tony. 

Loco took a huge bite and moaned. Saul frowned in disgust and shot a fist into his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he reproached. 

“But it’s hella good,” Loco said, rubbing his shoulder. He offered you two thumbs up and a wide smile. “Gracias, corazón.” 

“You’re very welcome,” you said with a laugh, and fought hard not to blush in embarrassment. Frank gave you a rare, conspiring smile. 

Who would’ve thought a hot meal could make you friends among criminals?

“Even Saul’s got nothing to complain about,” Frank remarked, noting the other man’s silence in his thoughtful chewing. Until Loco teasingly prodded him in the side with a fork. 

Saul made a sound of irritation around a mouthful of food and fended him off with a warning look (and a threatening butterknife).  

Loco tsked. “You have to untighten your asshole, my friend. You will give yourself a hemorrhoid.”

“You are my hemorrhoid,” Saul snapped. 

You stifled a giggle. 

Frank wore a deadpan look, but amusement still glinted in his eyes.    

“He’s just mad because Loco put peanut butter in his gun last night,” Frank told you in a lowered voice. But Saul still heard it, because his frown deepened while Loco’s grin edged into a smirk. 

“You know how hard it is to unjam that shit out of the slide?” Saul said. “Even the safety’s clamming up now.” 

“Shit, I should’a put jam too!” Loco said. “PB&J in a barrel, no?”

Saul punched his shoulder again in the same spot as before. Loco made a pained sound, but took the abuse with a good-natured smirk.    

“Very mature,” you laughed quietly. 

“Fucking children,” Frank agreed, with a sip of his coffee. But something told you that he was fond of these assholes. 

And that’s how Ben found you all. 

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, for a moment just watching his crew eating, joking, laughing—with you at the center of it all. 

He’d been standing here long enough without them noticing that he was actually getting annoyed, until Frank finally looked over and straightened a bit. 

“Sir,” he said. All eyes in the room went to Ben, who raised a brow and strolled in with a casual, lazy gait. He nodded at his men, who all greeted him back with respect. 

He noted you tightening up too, your expression turning more careful as you lowered your eyes and continued eating. 

There was something about it that annoyed him. But he ignored that for now, in favor of heading over to the pan on the stove. 

“Your plate is over here,” you mentioned, sliding over his breakfast. “Coffee’s still hot in the carafe.”

Ben flashed you a sly smile. “All right, sweetheart. Why don’t you get me a cup?”

He knew you’d frown, just like that, with annoyance glinting in your eyes. Try as you might, you couldn’t hide it all the time—your stubbornness. You were mouthy too, with an answer for fucking everything.

But when he took the proffered plate and tried the eggs, he raised his brows in pleasant surprise. 

“Okay. So you can cook,” he said. “Good to know.”

You raised a brow at that, but you handed him a mug of black coffee. He took a sip and made a face of disgust.

“Jesus, could at least put some sugar in there.” He passed it back to you. “Fix that for me, would ya?”

Your brow twitched again, but you took the mug wordlessly. Saul got up from his seat at the bar and washed his plate in the sink himself before he left, followed by Loco, who thanked you one more time before he followed Saul’s lead. 

You gave Ben his coffee while you started putting the leftovers away and soaking the pan in the sink. When Ben next took a sip, he coughed as his tongue was assaulted by sweetness. He shot you an irritated look.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped. 

You looked over at him with widening eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too sweet?” 

Your face was all innocence, but he was starting to figure you out. He caught a gleam of satisfaction in your eyes. His lips twitched, not sure if they wanted to smirk in amusement or frown in annoyance at your audacity. 

Ben glanced over at Frank, who stood near you with an empty plate. Clearing his throat, Frank set his plate in the sink and also washed it himself.

Ben dumped his coffee there and gave Frank a look—one that said to fuck off. 

His subordinate actually hesitated, making Ben’s frown deepen. But the man eventually left you and Ben alone while you finished up the dishes and Ben ate his breakfast. He didn’t mind complimenting the chef. 

“You surprise me, sweetheart. Now, if you start cooking more often than you eat up the pantry, I may need to keep you around,” he remarked teasingly. And he dumped his plate into the sink while you were busy washing the large pans you’d used.

It was meant to be a joke. He’d said worse things to you before and you’d volleyed back playfully, or at worst case, brushed it off. So the way your head whipped towards him with a glare managed to take him by surprise. 

“Maybe if you put as much energy into feeding yourself as you do into fucking your way through South America, you wouldn’t be such a helpless asshole,” you said. 

It changed the air in the room, making it tense as Ben raised his brows at you. He straightened to his full height and approached where you stood at the kitchen sink. 

“Care to fucking rephrase that?” he asked.

Did this bitch really just call him helpless?

You had one hand on the counter, maybe to steady yourself. Your chin took on a defiant tilt as you stared up at him and crossed your arms. 

“At least your team has the decency to say thank you,” you snapped. “You can’t even be bothered. What are we, your fucking slaves? Should the whole fucking world bow to suck your wrinkly dick?”

Your vitriol somewhat put him on his heels. He stared at you, incredulous.

“I knew that doe-eyed Mary routine was a fucking show,” Ben growled. “Behold the salty cunt underneath. When yesterday, I know for a fact you were contemplating sucking on my cock like the fucking slut you are.”

Your expression became enraged. You aimed to slap him, with even your nails poised to scratch at his eyes, but he knew the attempt would hurt you far more than it’d hurt him. He grabbed your wrist and threw it away from him. 

You huffed, irate beyond belief, and tried to walk away from him before you said anything else you’d regret. 

But Ben’s hand closed on your arm again and whipped you around. You saw the anger in his eyes, the effort he was making to hold himself back. You both knew that with just a fraction of strength, he could crush you. He could end the game.

You were angry enough right now that you didn’t care. 

“Do it,” you challenged. “Bat me around until I act right. You supes call yourselves heroes, but I don’t see anything noble about you.” 

Instead of your arm, Ben gripped the counter next to you as his nostrils flared. His fingers bit into the tiles, cracking through them and making you flinch. 

“Go to your fucking room,” he ordered. “Before I take you up on that offer.”

Before he loses his shit, you interpreted. 

Your sister’s words again managed to cut through the red of your temper.

Protect yourself.

You hesitated, trying to slow your breath. Then, you lowered your eyes. And you scurried back to your room. 

You only released your tears when you were blessedly alone.  

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking fuming. He took it out on a potted plant, smashing it on the kitchen counter. He watched the fractals of clay spin off like bobble tops and the soil scatter across tile and in the sink. 

All the while, he refused to actually acknowledge how your words had affected him—other than infuriating him.

You were stubborn, with a smart goddamn mouth. You clearly hated him, and not just because you tried to help Butcher put him back to sleep. 

But he’d been spotting hints of attraction behind your blushes, whenever he teased you. He was mollified, slightly, with the knowledge that your body was interested, even if your mind was having a hard time being persuaded. 

Ben could work with that. 

But another part of him wondered…what the fuck was it about this girl? 

Why does it matter if she’s fucking into me or not? What the fuck do I care? He certainly wasn’t wanting for pussy. 

He should’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago. In fact, he should’ve shipped you back to Butcher, better yet, with a bullet through your skull so his band of morons would get the message…

But there was something about you. He’d known it from the moment he saw you in that club. When you broke dumbass Tony’s foot with that lethal goddamn heel, wearing black leather and a sexy gleam of confidence in your eyes as you walked away. 

To continue your hunt for Soldier Boy.

If Ben was honest with himself, (and he wasn’t), you had a fire he just didn’t want to dim. 

You were avoiding him. That was obvious. And maybe Ben was avoiding you too, a bit.

He whittled away the next couple of days with lines of coke, weed, and booze, among other things. Still, none of it managed to dull his mind enough to get a full night’s sleep. Because every time he closed his eyes, he dreamed of being in a metal coffin, unable to pry his eyelids open.

Most of it was flashes of memory mixed with nightmares. Of being frozen and defrosted, his head held underwater just to see how long he could go without breathing.

Being electrocuted on every surface of his skin to see which parts of him were more sensitive than others, less or more durable. What affected him more, bullets or acid, electricity or burning. 

Then the serums that lit his blood on fire, making him feel like his bones were liquifying from the inside out…

Ben would wake in his large bed, covered in sweat. And it took a hell of a lot to even make him dewy. 

The problem was, this was happening more often. Thanks to his abilities though, he was able to function on less sleep than most people anyway. 

At night, sometimes he walked through the dark and empty halls of this huge fucking mansion that felt empty as shit, even when he crossed one of his men. 

Sometimes, he wondered what it was all for—the long years of his life. Sometimes he wondered why he was still here, with no team, no family, no fame, and no real fucking life.

In the morning, after he cleared through the brain fog of post-drugging, Ben wandered downstairs and slurped down a mug of coffee. 

Simone was back, and she dutifully put together a frittata for him. Really, he was craving some plainer eggs and bacon, but this would do, he guessed.

After he finished eating, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do. The drugs were starting to bore him, as were the women, if he was honest. 

Ben ventured near the French doors leading to the backyard. He noticed you sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by little yellow flowers. Your mouth was moving, but he could barely hear you. 

Slowly he opened the door, so you wouldn’t hear him. Ben approached from behind, but didn’t go far. He just got close enough to hear you softly singing, letting the wind carry your voice away. But now he heard you perfectly. 

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…if I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You had a good voice, he acknowledged. And just within the safety of his own mind, it reminded him of the way his mom used to hum along with the radio when she cooked. 

His mouth quirking, he returned inside and fished for the phone in his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for his favorite escort service here in Colombia. 

Now that your anger had died down, you were feeling a bit guilty. You felt more than justified in raking Ben over the coals, and when you thought of how he’d snapped back at you, it still made your blood boil…

But somehow, your guilt remained. Maybe there’d been a better way to say those things. A gentler way that his massive ego could accept. 

Though you snorted as you walked through the halls that were now second-nature to you. It was late at night, but not too late that your brain could be calmed and cajoled into sleeping.

He doesn’t understand gentle, your mind reasoned. All that gets through his head is brute force. And sometimes, not even then. 

But he’d had every chance to lose his temper violently with you. While he’d certainly been an asshole, he hadn’t tried to break you. Just the kitchen counter. 

Curiouser and curiouser…

Without meaning to, your feet brought you close to his door. Your hand was poised to knock…but you hesitated.   

Then you heard the sounds coming from within, lusty feminine sighs and male grunting, and you grimaced. Memories of your previous experience in opening Ben’s door flit through your mind and made you blush. 

Nope, not this time. You made a sound of disgust and backed away from the door, then fled back down the hall. 

With a sigh of boredom, you supposed you could use a midnight snack. You’d just have to go it alone this time. 

Fine, you thought, suddenly petulant. And you would make something good too. Something that took some effort, and he wouldn’t get a single morsel! 

You went down to the kitchen and rifled through to find the ingredients you needed to make one of your mom’s old comforts: chocolate chip muffins. You didn’t have a Betty Crocker box mix, but you thought you remembered Yvette’s recipe to make them from scratch. 

You found a mixing bowl and threw in the powdered ingredients first—the flour, baking powder, sugar, salt. Then you added the vanilla extract, the eggs, vegetable oil, milk, and whipped them up into a batter. You dipped a finger in to taste it so far, and you smiled with a pleased hum.

“Whatever you’re making, it already smells good.”

Your smile fell as you looked up. Tony walked into the kitchen with his booted foot. 

You wanted to sigh. What the hell does this bitch want?

His long hair was tucked behind his ears, and he was dressed in tactical gear this time, complete with a belt, though curiously devoid of his gun.

The last time you’d seen him in this ensemble, he’d been kidnapping you. Maybe Soldier Boy sent him off on an “official” errand of some kind, like buying drugs off a cartel or something.

“Good evening,” Tony said with a nod. You nodded back at him, watching him as he approached the kitchen island. You made sure it remained between the two of you as you went to the fridge for some more milk. The batter was a bit too thick.

“What’re you making?” he asked.

“A roast chicken,” you sassed. He shot you a dry look and surveyed the ingredients across the counter. He reached for your open bag of chocolate chips and stole a few, scooping them into his mouth. 

Rude, but you didn’t comment. You knew you shouldn’t snipe too much with him. 

“Whatever it is, mind saving some for me this time?” he asked. “I heard you made breakfast for the guys the other day.”

“I did saved you some,” you replied. “Not my fault if the self-proclaimed King of Everything ate it all.”

In most ways, Ben was a bottomless pit. 

Tony started to curve around the kitchen island. You didn’t miss the move, and you stepped carefully in the other direction. 

“What? I just want to grab a beer,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk. “You afraid of me, mi vida?” 

You were really sick of men giving you unearned endearments. 

“Oh, yeah. Fucking petrified of the one-legged wonder,” you replied. Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Tony’s sly façade fell into irritation. 

There it is, you thought.  

“You really are a bitch,” he said tersely. 

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” you rejoined. It wasn’t your wittiest comeback, to be sure, but it still seemed to infuriate him. You should’ve been trying to diffuse his temper, not goading him. You just didn’t really think he would try anything after what happened last time.

But you were wrong. 

Tony went after you, swifter than you thought possible with that big-ass boot. You muttered a curse and tried to evade him, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back, making you shriek in both surprise and pain. 

You had no choice but to twist and aim a shot to his throat with your elbow. While he choked, you aimed another blow to the bridge of his nose, knocking his head back. 

You should’ve just fled the kitchen. Guaranteed, you could’ve outrun him. But his audacity made your temper snap. You followed up with a well-lined fist in the same region of his face, once, then twice, and he uttered a shout of pain as you both felt the crunch of his nose breaking. 

But then he managed to grab your arm. The two of you grappled, him slipping his foot out of the way when you tried to drive your heel into his boot. 

“Can’t get me twice, you fucking cunt,” he hissed, and pulled something from behind his back. Your eyes widened, thinking it was a gun. 

And it was a gun. Just not the kind you anticipated. 

A shock of electricity ran through your entire body as he tased you in the side, right below your ribs. You convulsed as he did it, unable to move until he relented. It made a few seconds feel like minutes of agony. 

You couldn’t even scream. Even when he stopped tasing you, you gasped in air and lost control of your legs. 

Tony hooked an arm around your waist and propped you up against the counter. With whatever strength you had, you raised your head, dazed and still in pain as you tried to grasp his shoulder.

He smirked down at you. With one hand, he ripped open your shirt so hard that the fabric burned against your already tingling skin. You gasped as you finally realized what he was about to do.

“Nnn…” you uttered, shoving weakly at his shoulder. 

“Shhh,” he said. His cold and lustful blue eyes roved over your heaving breasts still held in your bra, the expanse of your skin. He was able to get a grip of the button on your jeans before you summoned enough strength to fight back.

You shoved your hand against his face, trying to impale his eyes with your nails. But Tony ripped your hand away.

“Fucking bitch. Even now you won’t behave,” he muttered. 

He heaved you higher against the counter and pinned you there with a hand wrapped around your throat. He started squeezing, chocking precious air out of your lungs, but you kicked at him, bit your nails into his hand and clawed and fought as hard as you could when he tried prying your legs open with his knee. 

You tried crying out, but it was just whimpers making it through his tightening hand around your throat. He got frustrated enough to just break the button on your jeans, ripping the zipper down in the process. 

Then, two large hands closed on Tony’s arms.

Both of you looked up and found Ben’s steely green eyes. With a tightening of his jaw and a single upward shift of his grip, Tony’s arms broke. Bone struck through the skin, and the man screamed a horrific, blood curdling sound.

The hand wrapped around your neck released, letting you take in precious air. But that also meant you had nothing propping you up on your shaking legs.

You slumped to the floor against the kitchen island, then watched in horror as Ben grabbed the side of Tony’s face and bashed his head against the counter—over and over until his skull split open. 

Nostrils flaring, Ben took in long breaths as Tony’s mangled body fell to the floor in a bloody heap. 

Then he turned back to you. Your vision was a bit hazy as you tried to look up at him. Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as he slowly kneeled down to you, and helped you stand up. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re all right.”

But you couldn’t stay on your feet. 

You made an uneasy sound, and Ben caught you when your legs couldn’t support you. You struggled to raise your head again, but you managed it.

Ben’s eyes roamed over your face and tried to discern what was happening. They held the question that he spoke out loud.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

What’s wrong. What a damn question, you thought.

Blinking, you tried your best to focus on his bearded face. 

“He tased me,” you told him through shallow breaths. 

Ben’s jaw clenched again, but all he did was nod. After a beat, he swept you up into his arms. You gasped, but he looked down at you in silent question. You nodded and relaxed against him, briefly closing your eyes. 

You wouldn’t know how that small gesture affected him as he carried you out of the kitchen. And up the stairs to the second floor, all the way to your room.

He was careful in laying you down on the bed. You were still crying, and now embarrassed for your own modesty as you grabbed a blanket and tried your best to cover yourself, your ruined shirt hanging from your shoulders and all. 

By the time you looked back over your shoulder, Ben was gone. 

However, a few minutes later there was a knock at your door. You sniffed.

“Who…” you tried to speak, despite the pain and coarseness of your voice. “Who is it?”

“Frank,” came the response. You didn’t know if you wanted him in here. 

But after a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’ve got some water for you,” he said through the door.

You licked your dry lips and tried to swallow, even though it hurt. Water, you could definitely use. 

With a sigh you said, “Come in.”

Frank entered with a bottle of water and a med kit. You eyed him warily as he dragged a chair over and sat across from you where you laid on your bed. 

“Can you sit up?” he asked. 

You weren’t entirely convinced that he was here to help you. But his brown eyes were calm and steady, and you didn’t detect a threat in them. 

“I was a paramedic before I enlisted,” he said. 

You blinked in surprise. You eventually obliged him by sitting up, but you still held the blanket around your body. Ben must’ve filled him in…and sent him to check on you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Because every time you thought you had Soldier Boy figured out, the humanity of Ben surprised you. 

“Can I see where he tased you?” Frank asked. 

Though you hesitated, you opened your blanket enough for him to take a look at your bruised side. Sighing through his nose, Frank nodded. He wore medical gloves, and he raised his hands to prod at your neck.

You whimpered and leaned away from his touch. Frank slowly dropped his hands away from you. His eyes softened. 

“You asked about my family,” he said. You gave a belated nod, once you remembered that conversation from a few weeks ago. Had it only been a month since you’d gotten here?

It felt like a year. 

Frank held your gaze, and you remembered asking him. Got a family? Wife and kids?

He hadn’t answered you. You’d thought maybe there was a story there. Now you knew for sure that there was.

“I have a daughter,” said Frank. His tone held the weight of sincerity, just as his words held an underlying promise.

Finally, your tears fell. You nodded and allowed him to finish patching you up. 

He then left you alone, saying that he would bring you something to eat in a little while. But after the door clicked shut, you finally allowed yourself to let go.

You mostly spent the next day in your room. Frank came by to check on you, to offer you something to eat. You took what he gave you, but you only nibbled. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy eating.

You imagined it getting clogged in your throat, as a hand wrapped around it. First Antonio’s, then your father’s hand. 

You remembered when you were thirteen years old, and you finally snapped back at him when he tried to cut down your mom again with his drunken cursing.

You remembered the dryness of his hands, one of them closing around your neck and squeezing until you saw black spots encroaching on your vision.

And your mom intervened, threw herself onto him. You held your little sister in the closet. She was far too little to understand what was going on, but she knew it was bad.

You covered her eyes, and you watched through the slits as he beat your mom within an inch of her life.

You remembered fumbling with the landline, whispering into the receiver until police sirens circled through the windows and illuminated the dim house. 

You remembered until you had to shut your eyes against memories and hot tears. 

It was another day before your room felt like a suffocating cage once again. Night had fallen, according to the TV guide, approaching midnight. 

You had to gather your courage, but you got dressed into one of your new plain shirts and jeans (which Ben had bought you, you were reminded).

When your stomach growled, you frowned. You hadn’t been able to keep much down for the past couple of days. Sighing, you reached a hand for the doorknob.

Your fingers hesitated on the brass, but you remembered something Louisa told you the day she graduated from high school. 

You hugged her tight with the broadest grin and kissed her cheek. With tears in your eyes, you held up her hand, which held a diploma with honors. 

She had a chance to go to college—something you hadn’t had. But you were going to make sure she did.

“You’re a rockstar, Lou. I’m so damn proud of you,” you said. She laughed and wiped a tear from your cheek. 

“It’s only because of you,” she said. “You’re a rock, sis. Even when you’re not.”

Your sister was a smart little shit, wise beyond her years. And that had stuck with you ever since. 

You’re a rock. Even when you’re not.

Even when that insidious voice inside whispered things. That you were weak, not strong enough, not smart enough. A burden on your family, on your friends. A disappointment. A bitch with an attitude and not much else. 

But you sucked in a shaking breath and frowned at yourself, your brows knitting together. 

No, you thought stubbornly. 

And you opened the door. 

With cautious steps you made your way downstairs. You forced yourself to keep walking, your heart rate climbing, until you reached the kitchen. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but Ben standing there and staring into the fridge was not it.

It was the first time you’d seen him dressed down, in sweatpants, a soft-looking gray shirt, and some old man loafer slippers. You couldn’t help a smile at the sight. 

Maybe he sensed a presence behind him, because he perked up and glanced over his shoulder. Finding you standing there with a small smile, if a bit awkwardly, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Hey,” you replied with a nod, and you braved entering the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, almost as if nothing had happened in this room.

Except for the large section missing from the kitchen counter, revealing the cement underneath. Likely it had been too damaged to be repaired and needed to just be torn out and replaced. 

Your gaze roamed across the counter to the spot where you’d been assaulted. You couldn’t help focusing on it, so long that your vision started to glaze over. 

Until you realized that Ben was slowly approach you. He had a beer in hand, which he must’ve grabbed from the fridge. You sucked in a breath and looked up at him. 

“You’re up and about pretty late,” he remarked. 

“So are you,” you returned with an attempt at a smile. “I got hungry.”

Ben huffed in amusement. “Figures…though not gonna lie, was feeling peckish myself.”

He gestured at the fridge dismissively. “There’s not much.”

He could’ve woken up Simone, you were ready to point out. But maybe, just maybe, something you said had gotten to him. Maybe he’d wanted to just figure it out for himself, but didn’t know where to start. 

“Let me take a look,” you said instead. You went first to the pantry and took a brief inventory. “You feeling sweet or savory?”

“Savory,” he replied after a moment. He went over to the breakfast bar and sat down with his beer while you continued to rifle through.

“Hmm, how about spaghetti?” you suggested. 

Ben raised a brow. “It’s almost midnight.” 

You shot him a small grin. “So? You’re hungry, right?”

You could tell he wasn’t totally into the idea, but he shrugged. 

“All right.” 

You hummed as you gathered all the ingredients you needed. Ben watched you lay them out across from him on the counter: onions, tomato sauce, various seasonings, and more. He eyed the entire head of garlic you were getting ready to peel.

“Jesus, you tryin’ to kill a vampire or something?” he quipped. You gave him a wry look.

“Have you ever made spaghetti before?” you asked. This was as basic as it came, but the way he was looking at the vegetables told you the entire concept of peeling, cutting, and throwing them together into a pan was foreign to him. 

“Probably,” he said with a shrug. 

Meaning never, you interpreted. Ben really just had no idea how to cook, you realized. You didn’t understand how a century-old man was so lacking in everyday skills…

But maybe you did. The files neatly stored in your brain reminded you that he’d grown up a rich kid. Very rich. Then after he became Soldier Boy, he’d all too soon reached the pinnacle of fame. He’d made so much money in four decades that he’d probably never needed to do a menial task in his life.  

Maybe you could get him to try. 

However, you hadn’t realized it until now, but even after a full day, your body hadn’t fully recuperated from what you’d gone through. Maybe it was the latent stress, but you already felt tired, your body heavy.  

With a growing idea in your mind, you finished peeling and crushing the garlic and grabbed two onions. You held up one of them for his view. 

“Would you mind helping me?” you asked. 

Ben sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. 

“Do I look like Betty fucking Crocker to you?”

“Do you have to be so rude?” you clipped back. His lips twitched in amusement, until you sighed, and took a break from standing up straight to lean against the counter. Your side was starting to twinge from where you’d been tased.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked. His brows knit together, and you could almost swear you saw concern in his eyes. 

But you pressed your lips together. It really pained you to admit it, but…

“Still a bit shaky,” you said, lowering your eyes. “I…honestly don’t know if I can finish this.” 

For a moment, Ben just stared at you. 

He frowned, then made a sound of annoyance. 

“Christ,” he muttered, and finished off his beer before he stood. He took his time coming around the island to meet you. 

“Fine,” he deadpanned. “What is it you want?”

A smile grew across your face, bright and grateful. You handed him an onion. 

“Peel and chop this, please.”

You made room for him at the cutting board and gestured for him to move in there. Ben considered the onion in his hand and took the knife from you. And after a beat of hesitation, he cut the whole thing in half. 

You made a halting sound, lightly touching his wrist. “I’d peel that first if I were you.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” he retorted, but you read the defensiveness in his eyes. 

Hiding an amused smile, you relented and let him do it the way he wanted. But you did notice that he started peeling off the first layer of skin before he started cutting again.

Meanwhile, you found a sauce pan in the cupboard and a pot for boiling the pasta. And the two of you fell into a strange, companionable silence while cooking together.

Until you noticed him glancing at your neck. You knew there were bruises there, still purplish, but healing. It reminded you to gather your courage for something else.

“Thank you,” you said, with difficulty. “For…for saving me.”

Ben’s gaze met yours, but all he did was nod. You’d expected him to be his usual cocky self about it. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked. He paused in his truly horrendous cutting; irregular pieces of onion were all over the cutting board, but he was still going for the second one.

Then he huffed. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“Be serious,” you said, before you could censure yourself. He raised a brow at you. 

“You know what?” he said. “Think what you want about me, but I’m not a fucking animal.”

His frown deepened, like he was offended at you just for asking. 

Well, fair enough.

So you let it go as the two of you cooked together. 

But as Ben was peeling the stubborn hide off the vegetable, it slipped out of his frustrated hands and rolled away. Thankfully it stopped just shy of falling off the counter. 

You couldn’t help a small giggle at his expense. He had the strength of twenty men or whatever, but he couldn’t chop an onion to save his life. 

Ben shot you a wryly amused look. “Oh, you better not be fucking laughing at me.”

That just made you laugh in earnest, even though you covered your mouth with your hand. His grin deepened at the sound, despite the embarrassment making his face and neck warm up. 

He grabbed the hateful head of veg and looked anywhere but you as he got ready to try again. There was no way he was letting you, or this fucking onion, make a fool out of him. 

But your soft hand soon covered over his. You offered him a genuine smile, your eyes gleaming.

“Want me to show you a trick I learned?” you asked. 

He hesitated, but he eventually moved over and let you in on the action. You took up the knife, held down the onion, and cut the ends off first. Then you were able to more easily peel off the rest of the outer layer. 

“You can do this part any way you want, really. But I like to cut it down the middle first, then chop up one half at a time like this,” you explained.

And you felt Ben move in closer behind you to watch your methodical work. 

The heat from his proximity actually made you start to blush like a damn school girl. You tried to stamp it down, but heat flared into your cheeks when his hand covered yours and took back the knife.

“All right, all right, I got it. Move over,” he said. You huffed, but you grinned and let him continue…

By the way his eyes later lit up when he tasted the meal, you knew he really did like your cooking. Now, you didn’t want to feed his outdated views on gender roles…but you could admit, seeing him enjoy something so simple as your grandma’s spaghetti recipe was gratifying. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d shared a decent moment with Ben. But it was the first time that it hadn’t felt like an act. You didn’t know what to do with that—or the conflicted feeling making your heart ache. 

And you certainly didn’t want to find anything about him endearing. 

AN: So first of all, sorry for all the angst and TWs in this one. But here lies the end of Tony's fuck ass. ✌🏽 And maybe she's starting to understand (and trust) Ben a bit more...

Next time: Two weeks later, Ben is getting under her skin in the worst (best) way. (AKA: the moment we've all been waiting for...)

You should’ve just pushed him away already…but his nearness was mucking up your good sense. 

The truth was, you weren’t afraid of him. Not anymore. And maybe you didn’t hate him.

Maybe…

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” he asked you.

Your lips parted, halting on a reply.

Keep Reading: PART 7

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