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shadowturtlesstuff · 4 years

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Dress part 2

so this is dress from Audrey rose’s perspective. i loved writing this. i finished it a few weeks back and its been slowly edited. i am working on other things, but i can feel my brain slolwy stop working, and i’m failing miserably.

This party is dreadful. Beautiful, but dreadful. The only things that are interesting to me is looking at the gowns being worn and the intricate details I discovered when observing them. And Thomas. But I refuse to acknowledge the latter and fix my gaze on a pale pink dress, little gems of dark pink lining the neckline flowed down the bottom of the dress. My own was of a pale green and blue, the top being blue and slowly turning green, with gems in little pockets so that if I were to dance, to spin, there would just be a flash of colour. It is a shame I will not be dancing tonight. Originally my dress was going to be a deep purple with white pearls around the neckline but I may have overheard Thomas talking to his carriage driver about his own outfit for tonight and may have decided against the purple.

My eyes move away from the gown and find Thomas who is conversing with an old man that I assume is his father. From the scowl on Thomas's face one can assume his father must be a pleasant conversationalist. Then Thomas's gaze slides away from his father and meets mine almost immediately, as if he was waiting for my eyes to find his, or that he could feel my gaze. A smirk replaces his scowl and I try to ignore the blush creeping onto my cheeks as I look away quickly; to find my cousin’s face fixed on mine, and eyebrows raised as she took in my expresion. She took her own gaze at Thomas, then winks at me and I scowl slightly. All night I had been stealing looks at Thomas, to try and notice all the details in his suit. He looked incredibly handsome in his midnight blue and black clothing, his hair brushed back and a permanent look of boredom and contemptment on his face. Apart from when he caught me looking. Then his lips quirked up in a smirk that I wanted to smack off.

It takes all my common sense to stay rooted in my seat and not walk over and ask Thomas to dance. Yet all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipating our next encounter was starting to weigh on my chest, hoarding control over my senses. It was infuriating. My mind was still convinced I did not ever need a husband, yet my mind also wondered about a life where Thomas was by my side. Every time I did the weight would increase slightly and I had no idea how to fix this. We were not even meant to be friends, uncle had warned me a few times when I had gone to investigate something on his behalf, that Thomas was trouble. Yet it always seemed he disliked Mr.Douglas more, and was miserable about the fact we did not have Thomas's particular skill sets on our side.

“It is most important for you young girls to attend not just tea parties, but parties.” Aunt Amilia was saying to us. Liza looked exceptional tonight, her dress was golden yellow with lilac accents. She had been very excited about tonight, about the prospects of romance and the fact she did not attend such things when trapped in the countryside; even though I hadn't been looking forward to tonight, her excitement was invigorating.

I let my aunt and cousin talk as I mess with the bottom of my glass. Attending tonight meant that there was another chance for our murderer to strike, another victim to add to his growing list. I shuddered at the thought of seeing another horrific scene; a woman cut open and dispatched as though she was worth nothing. Uncle and I had conducted post mortems on all the unfortunate women, they all seemed to have similar inflicting wounds yet they were worse each time. Uncle claims our murder is getting more confident as he is taunting the Scotland Yard. As much as I enjoy the magical atmosphere the ball produced; I couldn't help but think it a waste of time. There must be more we could do to find who our perpetrator was. Thomas and I had been discussing theories over the course of the last month whenever we found ourselves together, and even with our skills combined we were no closer than when we started. It certainly didn't help that we kept getting distracted. Thomas is an excellent flirt and seems to want to do just that all the time. It did not help that my mind kept drifting back to our kiss either. I had to keep convincing myself it was the adrenaline that caused me to kiss him, not the fact I had grown to like him very much.

I kept thinking about how his hands burnt my skin, electrifying me and it made me drunk on his touch. I kept wondering what would happen to me if we were to kiss again and if I would be able to control myself. To not drown in his touch.

I caught another glance of him, but his eyes were already upon mine. I looked away just as Mr.Douglas appeared at his side. I slid my eyes back to him as he begrudgingly spoke to his boss. Thomas scowled at something he said.

“Audrey Rose, would you like another glass of champagne brought to you?” Liza asks, capturing my attention away from Thomas. I had only had one and it couldn't hurt to nurse another tonight. So I nodded and watched Aunt Amila gesture to the waiters to bring a glass for me as well as some food for Liza. My glass is replaced and I try to ignore the growing boredom I have.

“May I borrow your daughter for a dance, sir?” The smooth voice of Mr. Thomas Cresswell appears to my left. Slowly I look at him, trying to hide my confusion. And longing. I would very much like to dance with Thomas. I would like to know how it feels to dance with him, whether he can dance. Yet we were not meant to be friends, surely Uncle will notice the fact we are, and perhaps scold me for it. My father looks over at him, surly registering who he is, who his father is and the title he holds. He gives a tight smile. Father is still slowly recovering from his opium addiction. Aunt Amilia arrived so she can keep an eye on him and it makes me happier to see him be less tired. Yet it does cause problems if I need to visit my Uncle. Nathaniel narrows his eyes at Thomas, surly bemused at why his apparent robotic friend would want to dance with me. However he gives a more genuine smile than my father does. Then Uncle scowls. I would much rather face the killer's knife than be in Thomas's position right now. I look towards where Liza is trying stilfe her giggles and can't help but smile too.

“Cert-” My father begins, but does not get far before my Uncle cuts in. Of course he would. Normally he would not care. I am still shocked my Aunt managed to convince him to leave his laboratory for this.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? She's my daughter I suggest you-”

“No. Mr. Cresswell, what are you doing? You do not wish to seek out my niece for the case do you? If so, leave now.” I see Thomas wince slightly, but smile before quickly looking at me and answering:

“No sir, I can see why you'd think that but I truly wish to dance. Your daughter is captivating.” His smooth words wash over me, the honesty in his tone fills my bones, making me more light headed than the champagne ever could.

“I shall dance with you Mr. Cresswell.” I interject before anyone else can speak on my behalf. Thomas is the only one I had wanted to dance with. I make my way to the dance floor, giddy with excitement. My hands shake slightly from the need to hold him.

“I'm glad you saved me. I've been dreadfully bored.” I tell him as he places his hands on my waist, my own finding his shoulder. I forget how tall he is sometimes. I would have to go on my tiptoes if I were to kiss him and he would need to bend to find my lips. He laughs at my words and everything about him relaxes slightly as we begin to dance. Each step is filled with confidence. Of course he'd be perfect at dancing.

“I'll always be the one to save you Wadsworth. I am your Dark Prince. Be sure to think about me and my heroic nature whenever you're alone.” Once again I ignore the blush making my cheeks it’s home and focus on his smirk. His ridiculously arrogant smirk.

“Please; I have more important things to consider than you.”

“You look beautiful, Audrey Rose.The dress is magnificent, compliments you perfectly,” he must be making the connection to his own outfit and contemplating the implications behind it; “although completely unnecessary, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of rendering me speechless without a dress on at all.” Or not. The fiend just wanted to shamelessly flirt with me. To make my skin turn hot and cold all at once while I consider his implications. His eyes hold promise and he no longer wears his impenetrable mask with force. It makes him look younger, more like the man I have grown to know and not the cruel beast society believes him to be.

“You claim I render you speechless yet you still speak? Are you lying or just horribly bad at compliments? Or, you hate the dress but need to charm me nonetheless?” Despite his vaulnrability I must not allow him to have the upper hand in this conversation or I shall never live it down.

“Wadsworth, darling, please; do you really think that little of me? I'm merely stating the obvious, it's what I do best. And I don't need to charm you when you are already infatuated with me. If I were you I would be. And as much as you truly render me speechless with your brilliant mind, I adore your body too, an added bonus, but I will always be able to tell you how astonishing you look.” He looks ready to kiss me, and I know if he did I would let him. It would be quite the scandal but I do not care at this point. We flirt, tease and taunt each other endlessly but it pains me that we do not get to do it as often as we wish. That I do not get to learn each side of Thomas, like this charming man who holds me tightly, as though if he let go of me I'd disappear. I feel as though I might if he did. I search for any lie, anything but the same pain I must be showing on my face. Instead of a kiss, unfortunately, he pinches my sides lightly, as if conveying his words to me. I pinch him back and we smile, content in our own little world.

“It is a good job you are not me then isn't it?” My voice is barely above a whisper and we both know my words hold little bite. People were fools to think Thomas was anything other than lovable. He may be in pain most of the time but that was a part of his charm.

He clears his throat, attempting to control himself, “I've enjoyed the game tonight, our secret moments in this crowded room no one knows about. Each little glance at me gives my heart a rush. Makes it worth being at this blastidly boring event. I've missed you.”

‘I’ve missed you.’

The three words repeat over and over in mind. We spoke this week yet in my bones I understand what he means. We haven't truly discussed our kiss; or our feelings. We are both too wrapped up in our individual fears. Yet even with the confession we dance in comfortable silence.

“When does this get easier?” My voice is quiet for a completely different reason than before. Our eyes meet and I find myself captivated by him, the fact my best friend is not perceived as my friend. A secret that neither of us ever wanted to keep. “I want to stay with you all night, but after this we must return to our lives, I go back to being judged for my curiosity and you will go back to the animatronic villain the world thinks you are. When does it get easier Thomas?”

He contemplates for a moment, his eyes flashing all sorts of emotion before turning to that calculated gaze that feels somehow more intimate than before. If he has an idea on how to make this all better then I have no intention of stopping him.

“Wadsworth, how much does your Uncle hate me?”

“He doesn't hate you, at least I don’t think he does. He- he isn't a person who gives positive opinions on anyone. Even me. But no, I do not think he hates you, just Mr. Douglas. Oh but he doesn't like that you are working against us. For him no less.'' I have believed for some time my Uncle would like Thomas to work with us and attend his school. He never technically speaks ill of him, but of who he works for. I’m half convinced Uncle is upset Thomas did not go to him first.

“It's not ideal, I despise him, he doesn't care about the cases, but of the fame; it makes me near vomit whenever he speaks about the women- or any woman for that matter.” Uncle had said the same thing a few times to me.

“Audrey Rose, if I were to quit would your uncle offer me an apprenticeship?”

“I think so but why?”

“There are more benefits in working with your Uncle than that egotistical man. The main one being right in front of me.'' I gasp slightly and stop for a second. Once again Thomas has left me speechless at how vulnerable he is for me, at how his words caress me and hold such promises that make us both slightly afraid. There was so much wrongness in the world, so much that confused me and left me stranded. Perhaps that is why I relish science so much, in finding out facts from the deceased because they could never lie to me, never hold my brain in such misery that I feel ill. Maybe the familiar feeling of carving open a body meant that it was the only sure thing I knew. That was before Thomas.

Now I know two things for sure. For the most part. Thomas would always baffle me but in the most delightful ways.

Finally I mustered the courage to speak. “You could talk to my uncle tonight, I'm sure he'd much rather discuss the case or anything remotely close to work rather than listening to my Aunt.”

“Would you want me to work alongside you Wadsworth because if not I can-” he would always allow me a choice, but he would always doubt himself too. So I snapped my head up from where I was staring at his chest. His eyes flash as he misunderstands my movements.

“Do not finish that sentence Thomas. Of course I want you to work with me and my Uncle.”

“My brilliance is desperately needed isn't it? I mean you cannot resist my charm.” He adds a wink, lightning the tone and making me roll my eyes in the process.

“No, I'm merely the one saving you from that- that man before he rots the only decent part of your brain.” Half truth, half a lie. I relish in our easy banter.

“If you are the one saving me, will you be like the heroes in the books, because I do recall that they always give their saved maidans a kiss once they are saved?” I blush again at his words, but more so the memory of his lips on mine.

We had been investigating when two ruffians attacked, so we fled to safety in an alleyway. With one look we were both upon each other, clinging desperately as our lips met, the feeling of being lost in him, the feeling of his hair beneath my gloves. Of the sweetest kiss he added after we broke apart. Even after then Thomas had doubted his actions slightly and apologized but in that moment I didn't care about anything but him. I'd seen a new side to him that night, one I wished to witness again.

We were coming to the end of our second dance, any more would be considered improper. Thomas seemed to stumble onto that fact too as his grip tightened ever so slightly. Just enough for me to notice. I doubt even his impressive deduction skills noticed his own movement as he was too fixated on my face. It made me smile slightly. Even as I knew I'd have to break apart and return to my table. To Liza's knowing smile and teases, to the males scowling and whatever my Aunt thought.

Slowly I let go of him, the music coming back into my head, as though I had stopped paying attention to it. We walk back to my table and I take my seat, hand going onto my glass as I calm my heart. Thomas stands there awkwardly by the empty chair, so I kick it slightly with a smile playing at my lips. He scowled but sat down. I tried desperately to ignore my cousin, I knew she watched me dance and would inform me of her opinions on it and on Thomas.

Everyone at the table is silent, watching and waiting. My father orders a glass of champagne for Thomas, which indicates either he likes Thomas or the title he holds. I watch as Thomas messes with the rim of the glass. My friend has never been exactly good at social interactions and becomes restless faster than a toddler. Uncle is glaring at Thomas so my father elbows him and it seems so unlike them I smile. They are no longer close due to my mother’s death, but perhaps my Aunt can change that for the better, at least a little bit whilst she is here.

“So Mr. Cresswell, my son has been telling me a bit about you, what is it you do again?”

I've not spoken to Nathaniel about Thomas. In fact I haven't spoken to him in quite a number of days. I make a mental note to fix that.

“I'm a scientist sir.” My fathers face drops, either having that information made true or knowing Nathaniel had missed it out deliberately.

“Surely a man of your title would pursue something other than that?”

“Science isn't about titles sir, it's just the pursuit of knowledge. You must want to know how things work, how things are made. I enjoy learning about the body, the world and how it works.” My father narrows his eyes at him. He used to enjoy that sentiment before my mother died. He loved making things. It was his form of science. Perhaps if mother had not died he would be more open to my love of science. I'm filled with silence that floods my head until Thomas taps the table slightly. My attention turns to his warm smile, one that tells me everything I need.

I am not morally corrupt for liking science. I return the smile, a silent thank you.

Silence falls on our table and I find Liza watching me and Thomas with something like wonder on her face. When she notices me she smiles, then raises her eyebrows up and down and we both nearly snort with laughter. But we control ourselves as Uncle takes a seat next to Thomas. His gaze makes Thomas bounce his knee in the annoying way he does when he is nervous.

“Would it be okay for me to attend your school sir?” Thomas askes suddenly

“Yes, on one condition; you must stop working for Mr. Douglas.”

Neither of us were surprised by the condition, although I am miserable that Thomas was accepted so quickly. I had to beg my Uncle to let me join and I've only ever been once. His stipulation for me was to remain quiet. Quite a task when the ‘men’ partaking in his lesson squirmed more than I did.

“Of course.”

After a few minutes Thomas returns to his table and my Uncle stays in the seat he's in, instead of going back to the seat beside my father. My father returns to his conversation with Nathaniel, Liza and Aunt Amelia being talking again. I look to uncle in hopes he will talk to me, but he is looking at his plate of food miserably. So I sit alone silently.

“Mr. Wadsworth? May I join you this fine evening?” The voice of Mr. Blackburn pierces my thoughts. He takes the seat that was my Uncles and smiles brightly at me. “It is lovely to see you, Miss. Wadsworth. You look beautiful.”

I force a smile as my mind wanders to the words Thomas uttered to me earlier. They felt real. It leaped at me and held me tightly. Blackburns’ felt much like my smile. Forced. Polite. I had no idea what he was doing here. If he wanted to talk about the case I'm sure he'd drag Uncle somewhere.

“Thank you.” I say, turning to look at Liza and begging her to help me out. But Aunt Amelia cuts in instead.

“She looks delightful doesn't she? You must dance together.”

I try to hide my wince but it clearly doesnt work as Liza smirks at me.

“Before you do that there is something we must discuss Audrey Rose,” Blackburn states, his tone makes me squirm in my seat like a child, Uncle looks up from his food finally and they look at each other carefully, “We need you both tomorrow at the station, the Ripper has sent another letter.”

So Uncle was right when he spoke about the killer's confidence another letter surely meant he was ready to strike again. I must speak to Thomas, get him to be at the station with us, he will likely notice things we would normally miss.

“Certainly.” Was all Uncle responded with. Especially since we both noticed my father’s glare at us all.

“Both? Both? When I told you to court my daughter I didn't expect you to let her see such horrors. You were to stop her madness not help it prevail.” He snaps at Blackburn. Anger rose as I understood what my father was saying. He had graciously allowed Blackburn to court me, to marry me, without even mentioning it once to me. I was clearly too much to handle and must be doused before I dare have a life of my own choosing.

“You have been secretly courting me?” I snapped at him, rising from my seat. “Father, why on earth would you allow this? I have a right to know, to choose for myself.”

“Audrey Rose, sit down and be quiet, you're making a scene.” My Aunt snaps back. Of course, our reputation is in such jeopardy if I stand up for myself.

How had I missed Blackburns’ advances, my fathers scheme? What else were they hiding from me? My father was enraged with me, Blackburn had the guts to look sorry for me. It was utterly ridiculous. I hated him, hated my father, hated society. Myself. I'd missed it because I had convinced myself he was a friend. I was so desperate I had ignored my intuition. I was pathetic.

Instead of sitting down I pushed my chair far back and began walking out of the ballroom. I needed air. Needed control. Needed Thomas. A thought I refused to linger.

The cold air bit at my skin, seeped inside me as I walked to the edge of the garden. The darkness comforted me as tears freely slipped down my face. I was a fool. I didn't want to marry Blackburn. I wasn't sure I wanted to ever marry. I just wanted to be a scientist. I wanted-

“Miss. Wadsworth, is everything okay?” Thomas appears behind me and I find it so utterly cruel that he gets to see me so vulnerable. Not an hour ago had we danced, had we been happy and now I was apparently being courted so I spun around and let out a joyless laugh.

“Perfect, Mr. Cresswell. I am a woman in this absurd society so I must not dare think about anything remotely masculine. I must not be able to pick who I love but have my father arrange it without informing me.” I spit at the words at him, knowing he was not to blame but knowing he was the only one willing to listen to me.

“Audrey Ro-”

“Blackburn. He chose Blackburn. He was never nice to me to be my friend, but because of him and my fathers scheming. If he hadn't been he would not have been this nice to me. I know I am not exactly the nicest person and that my interests disgust society but it was nice to have a friend.” I whisper the last part as though I voice how pathetic I am.

“Am I not your friend Audrey Rose?” His voice is an attempt at a joke, I think, but it is also tinged with pain. I consider Thomas my best friend, and it hurts me he thinks otherwise.

“You are but you're different, you; I don't need to try with you Thomas. I have to try with everyone but you.” He dares a step towards our eyes finally meeting. We needn't say a thing for us to understand each other.

“Wadsworth, I find it easy with you too. More than I even understand. This world is cruel and I wish more than anything to make it better for you, for it to be better in general. I- my father long ago gave up trying to marry me off, deeming me worthless and unable to love, and I still cannot figure out which is worse.” This was another side of Thomas he was showing me, to tell me that we may not fit into society but it doesn't matter too much. The fact will always hurt us slightly but we learn to live with it. Eventually.

He takes my gloved hands and rubs small circles over my palm sending shivers over my body. “You are worth more to society than they realise, so please keep fighting for your freedom. I will forever remain your friend if that is what you wish to happen, to help you figure this world out.” His confession replaces the darkness clinging to me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a wife, but Thomas always made me doubt that. He would always give me my freedom because he understood how important it was to me. I tighten my grip and he catches his breath as I take another step closer.

“Thomas,” My voice is somewhat breathless, my own breathing failing me, “you are not unlovable, your father is a fool. An utter fool. I want you by my side always, I fear I couldn't do this without you.” I go closer, impossibly so, “What if, what if it was more than friends though?” I may have overstepped with my question, we were in such uncertain territory to what we felt and I wished I could take back the words. What if Thomas wanted nothing more than friendship? The kiss we had could have just been adrenaline for him. His flirts may be out of boredom or something else I couldn't understand.

“I- I’m sorry.” I stutter when he doesn't respond to me. I take a step back, ready to return to the line placed between us. Where I would forever remain it seems.

That is until his hand tightened on mine and brought me back forward. My face widens in shock.

“Wadsworth I'd like that too.”

There is a second of silence as it sinks in. “You would?”

“More than anything. I care deeply about you. I shall court you like a proper gentleman if that is what you wish.” We return to standing apart and I can't help but snort at his insane statement.

“You are anything but a gentleman Cresswell.” I smile brightly as we both laugh. “It may be my favourite thing about you.” He flashes me a devilish smile.

“I am fully aware, love, that you love the scandalousness of my words. Would you like to go back inside or return home, I am sure I can get us a carriage to share.”

“Us? Thomas you do not live with me.”

“Yet,” he adds. I roll my eyes at his dramatic nature despite picturing how lovely it would be to live with him. “It would be ungentlemanly to let you return home alone; and purly scandalous to be in close quarters with you.'' Once again I ignore his words and begin to walk to where the carriages await. I couldn't care less if father got mad at me for going home. I knew I had to be lectured anyway.

“Very well, you may escort me home. From a distance.” I emphasise this to make sure he understands. He merely laughs at me.

When I make nearly a quarter of the distance and do not find Thomas with me I spin around and find him watching me with a weird expression on his face. He is captivating as he stares at me, his eyes full of wonder. His perfect hair has fallen in his face slightly, disheveling him slightly. My brows burrow in confusion at what could make him look like this, but I relish the look he gives me anyway. He really is a dark prince; standing tall in his dashing suit. He blinks when he releases I've stopped then begins to follow me.

“Are you alright?” I ask as he falls into step with me.

“Yes of course, I get to leave with the most dazzling woman at the party.”

We link arms, pay for a carriage and start to head towards my home. We sit across from each other, but the carriage is small and Thomas obnoxiously spreads his legs out so they brush against me and it takes all my willpower not to just place my hand on his knee, slowly stand then lean over him and kiss him. He nudges me and I raise my gaze, he tells me something but I've no clue what.

I blink and feel the heat of my blush form on my face. Which Thomas notices and smirks wickedly at me whilst raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Wadsworth?” He asks and I hum a response and try to snap out of my indecent thoughts.

“Cresswell?” I attempt words, not sure that I can manage more than his name.

“My kiss? I am still waiting for it.”

When did I promise him a kiss? Not that I do not want to kiss him. He leans closer, knee hitting mine. I feel the heat of him envelop my senses even as I remember our dance and the words he teased me with. For a moment I see him doubt and so I lean in to make sure he doesn't regret being in here with me, regret asking to kiss me.

His lips are soft as they meet mine. I feel his hand rest on my knee as I deepen the kiss. My night has been abysmal and I do not think I would have made it if Thomas was here. I adore the feeling of his lips on me and find my hands wandering on his knees. This is so vastly different from the first kiss and it makes me wonder if our kisses will always be different. Thomas pulls back, resting his head on my forehead and searches my face. I am a complete mess as he looks me over and he smiles at the result of our kiss. He presses a lingering kiss then sits back. I return to being pressed against the back of the carriage as we regain our composure. But I feel his legs still against mine so I brush my own against him and his warm smile against his flushed face made my heart nearly burst.

“I should save you from boring events more often if it means kissing you like that.” The words hold the same promise as the kiss and I smile brightly at him. I didn't think I wanted a husband but perhaps being with Thomas my feelings would change. Even in my worst time Thomas would stand by me, and I'd stand by him. We would make mistakes, argue; but I felt the truth sink in that we would always see the truth in each other. He was my one and only lifeline and I do not think I could ever truly explain the feelings as they raced around in my body faster than I could comprehend.

@fangirling-again @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @purplecreatorhorsewagon @kittycat2187 @padfoot-sirius-black @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing @lovecakeandmore @loveyatopluto @yikesitsmaddie

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #cressworth #cresswell #thomas cresswell #audrey rose wadsworth #stalking jack the ripper #hunting prince dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil #thomas and audrey rose

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starrynite7114 · 4 years

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everything is you: three

A/N: Good morning everyone! First of all, I would like to thank you all for the reception I’ve received on this story. I’m honestly honored and touched by how much you all love this little family. Cruz, Angel and Alena are just so adorable and I hope you all continue to enjoy the family. I also updated the everything is you page, so you can have visuals on Cruz and Alena.

Again, I say it all the time, I’m always down to answer questions about this story or any other story!

Enjoy the update! Snapshots is next, jealous Angel and Daddy Angel should be posted soon, just trying to make my way through them!

Requests are open if you lovely peeps would like to make a request!

Love you all! <3

everything is you

one : two

Word count: 6633

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Alena’s head bobbed, causing her to wake up. She blinked her eyes a few times, checking her phone to see Angel texted her once again. She quickly replied to him and looked back down at the enormous amount of folders around her. Why didn’t this person digitize their files? Now she had to go over each and every one of them.

“The more you think about how many files we have to look through the more frustrated you’ll be.” She heard Victor tease her.

Victor Costa was her next door neighbor and Cruz’s occasional babysitter. He was a good guy and Alena got on well with him. They first met on Alena’s first day at the job seven years ago and he had taken her around. He was always sweet to her and Alena truly cherished their friendship.

“I know, sorry.” Alena sighed. “It’s a Friday night, don’t you have plans?” Victor didn’t need to stay with her, but all her other co-workers left as soon as Mr. Johnson left the office.

“Honestly sweetheart, no place I rather be.” Victor grinned.

“I’m not sure if you’re being sarcastic?”

“I’m not, our co-workers are awful people who always leave you their work. Stand up for yourself Alena, no one will hate you if you do.” Victor stayed with Alena often since their co-workers were lazy pricks who knew Alena didn’t mind doing the work since it took away from her headache on Monday mornings. “You need to go out and enjoy yourself.”

“Me? You need to go out and enjoy yourself too. Didn’t you say you had a date?” Alena opened another folder, browsing through the paperwork for any discrepancies.

“Maybe, are you jealous?” Victor didn’t have a date, but he did tell one of their co-workers that shows kept asking him out on a date.

“Absolutely.” Alena took notes on a few documents, closing the folder and picking up another.

“You don’t want to go on a date?” Victor knew of Alena’s situation. He’s been her neighbor for years and out of nowhere she was married with a kid. He didn’t push her and Alena eventually told him everything when she became frustrated of Angel’s coldness. Angel could be cold towards her at times and when he did, Victor would be her confidant. Someone outside of their inner circle who had no biases and helped her. Well, he may have been biased towards her, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m married.”

“Come on Alena, you tell me all the time it’s a matter of convenience. It wouldn’t exactly be cheating if you go out on a date or two.” Maybe he was selfish, he knew that, but he’s had a crush on Alena for years, but he never made a move due to the fear of rejection and he just knew that Angel had Alena wrapped around his fingers and he truly disliked him for that. How could he walk all over such a sweet, kind and beautiful young woman who has given more than enough for him?

“Yes, but I would feel terrible. I know I don’t owe Angel anything, but that doesn’t mean I would disrespect the sanctity of marriage in such a way.” Alena tried to keep her focus on the folders wanting to get through this, Angel was waiting for her and she hated it when she kept them waiting or anyone really.

“Your father.”

“I just, Cruz is my main priority. This whole thing is confusing as it is, I don’t want to add someone else into the mix. Once Angel and I get divorced then it won’t be a problem.” Alena anticipated it to occur next year, which shouldn’t be a problem. If everything worked out, she could transfer to another firm in New York, something Mr. Johnson has offered her numerous times. But at the same time she couldn’t part from Cruz, he was her mother. Maybe she wouldn’t give Angel full custody. They could share. She was Cruz’s parent as much as him. Blood wasn’t what tied people together. “I sound like an idiot don’t I?”

She’s heard it all before.

That she was an idiot for everything she’s done. That no amount of debt to Angel should have had her doing this for him. But Angel was her friend before this whole ordeal. He saved her from being sexually assaulted. He was there for her when his father left and they became homeless for a period of time.

There were just good people in this world, why couldn’t people just take that for face value and not have a reason for helping a friend out?

“You’re not an idiot. You’re a kind person Alena, no one should ever fault you because you are genuine. I think it’s admirable what you’re doing for Angel.” Though Victor wished Angel didn’t lock her in a marriage, then maybe he would have a chance on Alena.

“Thank you,” she shyly smiled. Victor was a good looking man and she always wondered how he was still single. “Enough about me, why are you still single?”

“I’m married to my job, remember?” Victor was married to his job, well not at the law firm, but as an arts dealer. He produced art galleries all over the countries for top notch artists. It was his first love.

“You were married before weren’t you?”

“Puppy love,” he shook his head. “It was a mistake that I greatly learned from.”

“Did she break your heart?”

“Oh, absolutely not, I ran away from her.” Victor chuckled. “I just haven’t found the right person I guess.”

“You’ll find someone, plenty of women in this office are vying for a shot with you.”

“Are you included in that?”

“No, you’re around me enough, I think I’m fine.” Alena giggled. “You’re a good guy, but you know I’m married.”

“So if you weren’t married, you’d give me a shot?” He was pushing it, he knew that but he couldn’t help it.

“Me? You have all these women vying for you, I would not like to fight women for your attention.” Alena shook her head. “I get into enough conflicts due to Angel, I’m honestly good.”

“Women fought you because of Angel?”

“Yes, all the time.” Alena rolled her eyes. “All those women in Santo Padre befriended me because of Angel, then once Angel rejected them or something to that effect, it was a free for all.” Alena laughed. It was always amusing for her. They would just fling words towards her, never actually getting physical. Alright, maybe once she was involved in a physics altercation, but she would take that to the grave.

“Didn’t know your husband was such a hot commodity.”

“Oh, he is, I’m a lucky one.”

“Maybe I should go on a date.” Victor has had a crush on Alena for the past four years. It was time for him to take the plunge.

“You should! Ask the girl you’ve been telling me about.” Alena excitedly encouraged him.

Victor grinned, happy with how excited she was. He didn’t care if she was married, they weren’t actually together.

He was going to ask her out and there was nothing Angel could do about it.

=============

Angel lounged around Alena’s apartment, waiting for her to come home. It’s been an eventful two weeks with the cartel and the rebels taking up a majority of his time. Creeper was out after a wound sustained during an attack so now, everyone was on edge. To top it off, Adelita just kidnapped Cristobal, which made everything that much more stressful. He was thankful for a break.

It was Friday night and to avoid the debacle that occurred two weeks ago, he decided to pick up Alena.

It was ten at night and she was still not home.

She texted him two hours ago that she was finishing things up at the office and would be back soon. It made him antsy, but he saw that in her location on his phone, she was at the office. Cruz was sleeping on the couch as Angel watched television. They might as well stay here for the night since there was no point of going back to Santo Padre when Cruz was resting comfortably.

He heard the lock turn along with the doorknob. Alena walked in, leaning on the door before taking a deep breath. She locked the door and placed her bag on the bench by the door. Making her way to the kitchen, she got a bottle of water before making her way to the couch. She knew Angel was there, she heard the television.

Without so much of a word, she placed her bottle on the table. She straddled Angel, sitting on his lap before wrapping her arms around him and resting her head at the crook of his neck. Letting out a sigh, she felt her body relax. She shouldn’t count on Angel for this, but she would indulge herself this time due to her long day at work.

“You okay cielo?” Angel ran his fingers up and down her back. He loved holding Alena. She always fit so well in his arms.

“I’m tired. We had to finish research for a case tonight and my eyes feel like they’re going to fall off.” Alena snuggled her face on Angel’s neck, making him chuckle. She liked the feel of his beard. “Are sugar daddies an option?”

Angel laughed once again. He pulled her hair softly so she could move her head back. He kissed her, resting his forehead against her and smirked. “Absolutely not.”

Alena wanted to argue with Angel then. The kisses and sex were nice, but she really didn’t want to keep stomping on that line. She buried her face at the crook of his neck once more closing her eyes. She wanted the headache to go away along with the eye dryness. Her eyes opened thinking of Cruz, but she watched him as he slept comfortably on the couch.

“Should we get going?” Alena questioned.

“Ssh mi cielo, go to sleep.” Angel told her, his fingers still soothingly moving up and down her back. Not long, Alena was asleep in his arms. Angel felt more relaxed with Alena in his arms. He closed his eyes then, letting sleep take over his exhausted body.

The following morning, Cruz was the first to wake up. He looked up and saw his father holding his mother as they slept. He went to the bathroom, flushing and washing his hand once he was done. Making his way back out, he took his father’s phone and took a picture. He giggled. He always took pictures of his parents. Angel was holding Alena, both arms around her, head resting on hers, while Alena was still on his lap, head resting on his shoulder.

Cruz crawled over to his parents, forcing his way under Angel’s arms so his mommy could hold him. Angel groaned, wrapping his arms around Alena again, not letting Cruz in.

“Daddy,” Cruz shook Angel. This was unacceptable. It was his time to cuddle with mommy.

Angel stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a few times before letting out a yawn. “What is it Cruz?”

“You can’t hog mommy all to yourself.” Cruz crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

Angel chuckled. “Why not? Daddy loves mommy.” He tightened his hold on Alena, causing her to wake up.

“I love mommy more!” Cruz declared.

“Mommy loves you both.” Alena let out a small laugh as she moved, the ache of her sleeping position immediately seeping in.

“Mommy!” Cruz moved Angel’s arm and crawled in between them. He wrapped his arms around Alena’s neck, causing her to lean back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too baby.” Alena kissed the side of his head. “Good morning.” She greeted Angel as he watched her. His hands were on her thighs and she felt his morning wood against her. He smirked at her as she shot him a look, telling him to behave. “Should we head out soon?”

“No, let’s just stay here.” Angel needed a break from the cartel. A break from Santo Padre. What better way than to stay in San Diego and be with his two favorite people. He had texted Bishop last night and requested if he could have a few days off to spend some time with Alena and Bishop graciously granted him some time off.

“What? They don’t need you?” Angel never took time off, it was rare. He was devoted to the club, which Alena didn’t mind, she understood his loyalty.

“I honestly don’t care right now. I just want some time with my family.” Angel shrugged. “I’m just tired is all.”

“Okay, whatever you want to do. We can stay in if you want.” Alena offered. She loved lowkey weekends. Just to be able to lounge around the house with her boys, she cherished it because there was that thought at the back of her mind that it wouldn’t always be like this. One day, Angel won’t need her and she would just be another distant face for Cruz. She hated thinking that way and she was always able to reason that Cruz was legally her son, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up, it would help with the disappointment and heartache.

“We gotta get some groceries though, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you literally have no edible food here.” Angel teased her. He knew Alena lived off take out since she was usually too exhausted to cook when she got home.

“Haha, very funny. Maybe we can grill some meat for dinner. We can get some meat at the store, just stay in.”

“That sounds fucking delicious baby.” Alena hit Angel making Cruz giggle.

“Daddy said a bad word.” Cruz let out an ‘oooh’.

“Daddy is allowed to say bad words, but who can’t say bad words?”

“Mommy?” He tilted his head.

“Cruz can’t.” Alena playfully narrowed her eyes at him. She looked at her watch and it was only seven in the morning. “Can we sleep more?”

“I’m onboard with that.” Angel nodded his head.

“But it’s morning now.” Cruz argued.

“Mommy is tired, does Cruz want to cuddle with mommy?” Angel knew his son was a sucker for his mother. If mommy wanted to sleep, Cruz was sleeping with mommy.

Cruz climbed off Alena’s lap and took her hand. “Cuddle time!”

Angel chuckled as Alena gave him a look before kissing his cheek. He felt his cheeks heat up at such a simple gesture and he just shook his head. He watched as Alena and Cruz made their way to her bedroom. It was insane for him how attached Cruz was to Alena. He was almost certain Cruz liked Alena more than he liked him, and he couldn’t blame him. Alena had them wrapped around her fingers and she didn’t even know it.

“Angel, are you coming?”

“Yeah babe, I’m coming.”

=============

Angel placed the last of their bags on the table, Cruz was eating the chocolate dipped sticks happily on the couch, PJ Masks was currently playing. Alena was in the room, changing into some shorts and a shirt. Angel just wore basketball shorts and a white tee the whole day, so he was good.

As he was putting away the groceries, there was a knock on the door. But it wasn’t a regular knock. It was a special type of knock. Whatever it was, it made Cruz jump off the couch.

“I got it!” He shouted.

Angel looked at Cruz like he was insane. He knew he wasn’t supposed to open doors without him or Alena. He followed after his son.

"Hi Mr. Vic, mommy is changing." Angel looked down at his son like he was insane. Cruz knew he wasn't supposed to open the door. Might be an old man since he called him Mr. Vic. It was the same man that Alena spoke about a few weeks ago. He thought it was sweet that Alena was helping out the senior citizens. Though, Alena helped fucking everyone, which slightly irritated him every now and then. She could be fucking hurt or something. What if that person was fooling her and hurt her?

"Little man, I told you to call me Victor, or Uncle Victor. Mr. Vic makes me feel old." When Angel came to the door, he almost slammed it shut. It was Valeria's ex-husband, Victor Costa. Victor looked up at him, obviously sizing him up. He nodded his head. “You the husband?”

“You the sitter?” He wondered if Victor knew that Cruz was Valeria’s kid. There was no fucking way this was a coincidence. But at the same time, he knew Victor moved to San Diego to get the fuck away from Valeria and bless him, he couldn’t blame the man. This world was too fucking small.

He couldn’t believe this bullshit. Of all the fucking people to be Alena’s neighbor, it was this guy?

Alena walked out the room and saw that Angel and Cruz were at the door. She walked over and a smile spread across her lips.

“Victor! Hey!” She greeted him enthusiastically. She moved in front of Angel and was going to hug Victor when Angel pulled her back by her shirt, pulling her against him. “Hey, what are you doing?” She murmured at Angel.

“The fuck are you doing?” Angel couldn’t believe Alena was going to hug this man in front of her. This man even fucking knew they were married.

“I’m just gonna say hi.” She tried to take her shirt back but Angel had a grip on it.

“Uncle Victor, do you want to eat? Mommy is making us food.” Cruz invited him. Angel looked down at his son as if he grew two heads. How was he going to invite this man into their home? Sure he took care of Cruz, but that didn’t mean he invited him in without asking for permission.

“Maybe next time little man, I actually wanted to talk to mommy, is that okay?”

Cruz looked at Angel who shook his head no, he turned to Victor and nodded his head. “That’s okay.”

Angel rolled his eyes, letting go of Alena’s shirt. Alena moved to hug Victor then and Angel had to admit, he didn’t like the scene before him. Seeing Alena hugged by his brothers were different, they knew how everything stood, but this man obviously didn’t give a flying a fuck they were married. Maybe that’s why he and Valeria didn’t work out. Though Angel was certain Valeria was more to blame with her psychotic ass. The only good thing that came out of his relationship with Valeria was Cruz. Other than that, the bitch could go fuck herself.

“Keep the door open, you know your door automatically locks.” Angel advised her before he took Cruz back to the couch. At least it appeared so. He was right behind the door listening in.

“What’s up?” Alena asked, slightly coming outside, but holding the door slightly ajar so she can go back in.

“Remember our conversation last night?” Victor questioned.

“We had lots to keep us going and I was also half asleep, you want to remind me which one?” She tilted her head, trying to remember which conversation he was referring too.

Angel paused. Wait, they worked together and lived in the same building? Was this guy stalking his wife? Why was she so chummy with him? The fuck was that? He didn’t like this guy one bit.

“Mommy said it’s not good for us to,” Cruz paused not remembering the right word. “To be a chismoso.”

Angel was amused by his son’s choice of words. Alena spoke Spanish to his son and from time to time Korean. “Well why’d you let mommy talk to that man?” He whispered hoping Alena wouldn’t hear them.

“That’s mommy’s best friend.” He mimicked Angel’s tone, speaking lowly.

“I’m mommy’s best friend.” Angel informed his son. And he was Alena’s best friend. With everything they’ve been through with Cruz and even before that, Alena was the closest person to him that wasn’t blood related. Hell, she was closer to him than his own blood. She knew his deepest and darkest secrets and she never batted an eye. She still treated him the same, touched him the same regardless of how shitty he was.

He didn’t deserve her.

But he wasn’t going to let her go either.

Fuck it if that meant he was selfish.

“No silly, you’re mommy’s husband.” Cruz giggled.

Alena looked at them and they both smiled at her.

“Are you done?”

“No.” She went back outside. “Sorry, so which conversation again?”

“About putting myself out there.”

“Oh yes, did you ask out Courtney?”

Victor chuckled. “Why do you presume I like Courtney?”

“Cause you do? I see you looking at her.” She teased him.

“I’m looking at you Alena. You and Courtney are in the same vicinity, but I’m looking at you.” Victor looked at Alena nervously, she gave him an odd look as if he didn’t understand what he was trying to insinuate. “I like you Alena.”

“Me?”

Alena and Victor both heard a what? And a daddy let's go on the couch.

“So, would you like to go on a date?”

“Who?”

Victor chuckled. “You Alena, who else am I talking to?”

“Oh.” Alena was surprised. Victor never expressed any interest in her and he knew the situation. “I’m married.”

“Isn’t it out of convenience? Come on, one date. Doesn’t even have to be a date, just two friends hanging out.” Victor offered. He’d take whatever he could get from Alena

Angel looked at Cruz and put him down. Who did this motherfucker think he was? He saw Angel, he knew they were married and he had the audacity to say it was out of convenience. And it was but why the fuck would Alena tell him? Was she interested in him?

“Sure, but just as friends.” Alena’s reply halted Angel’s movement, she said yes? Oh, this girl was in trouble.

“Yes, just as friends.”

“Ooh, what’s going on here?” Angel heard Carla, EZ’s girlfriend questioned.

“Where’s Angel?” He heard EZ question.

“You have company. I’ll leave you to it. Next Friday at 6?”

“Sure, I’ll see you at work.” Alena nodded her head.

“Who is that?” Carla questioned watching Victor walk down the hallway.

“That’s my neighbor Victor, the one that takes care of Cruz.” Victor worked with Alena, but unlike her he didn’t need to be at the office everyday. So whenever Alena needed a sitter, Victor graciously offered a helping hand.

“You mean the one with the crush on you?”

“Excuse me, what now?” Angel appeared out of thin air surprising both women.

EZ chuckled. ‘Oh this was going to be a fun night.’

=============

Carla and Alena sat outside at the balcony, overlooking the ocean. Alena was able to land the apartment thanks to her boss, who apparently owned the building. Carla had to say that Alena had one of the best views and she was certain it was due to her boss favoring her. Nothing malicious, but ever since Alena started working for Mr. Johnson seven years ago, the hotshot lawyer took care of Alena. She reminded him of the daughter he lost a few years prior to Alena’s arrival. And much like Angel, he knew that his other employees took advantage of Alena’s kindness, but Alena didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.

Carla and Alena have known one another for nearly fifteen years. It still amazed Carla just how kind and selfless Alena was. If she was being honest, it was irritating at times because people walked all over her and Alena just brushed it off. She didn’t seem bothered by people using her, she just genuinely wanted to help people. She always reasoned with Carla that she was collecting good karma points. But Carla figured it had something to do with Alena not liking conflict. She was a helper, it was embedded in her, but sometimes, it was too much. A prime example was marrying Angel and being a mother to his son. She admired her best friend’s actions, Cruz was an adorable kid, but Angel was also taking advantage of the situation.

Angel was using their marriage as a way to keep Alena to him since he wasn’t ready to recognize his feelings for her. Whenever she would try to set up Alena on dates at the beginning of this whole ordeal, Angel always found a way to block her attempts. At first, it was because he was “clueless” about Cruz, which Carla had to roll her eyes at. Then he would become so sweet to her, Alena would become confused and decline to go on any dates. She’s fought Angel numerous times because of Alena, but it was hard to rattle Angel since he knew Alena was devoted to Cruz and in turn to him.

“So, Victor huh?” Carla raised her wine glass at her. “Not a bad choice, he’s cute, has a good job and he gets on well with Cruz.” She nodded her head in approval. “I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there.”

“What? I’m not dating Victor. I mean, we’re going to dinner, but as friends.” Alena held her wine glass, looking down at it as she swirled the red liquid inside. “He’s just being nice.”

“He asked you out on a date in the guise of being nice?” Carla cackled, shaking her head. “Alena, just because Angel’s head is far up his ass, it doesn’t mean no other man can find you attractive. If you only knew how many people Angel drove away, you would be impressed.”

“What?”

“Come on Alena, you can’t possibly think that no man on this earth finds you attractive. There are plenty of men who are lining up to date you, but it's hard when your guard dog looks like Angel.” Carla shook her head. “You can’t keep doing this, remember we talked about this. You can just keep this up for so long. You gave your twenties to Angel and Cruz. It’s time for you to put yourself out there.”

“You waited for EZ.”

“Yes, well, EZ isn’t Angel. He’s more in one with his feelings that his older brother.” Carla looked back and found Angel and EZ on the cough with Cruz in between them. They were laughing, Cruz making faces at his father and uncle. She liked their small family, she truly did, but as a best friend and fierce protector of Alena, she couldn’t standby and keep watching this shit show.

If Angel would just realize how much he loves Alena, then sure, Carla could support it, but if Angel was going to keep them at this limbo, he could go fuck himself.

“Are you waiting for Angel?” Carla has asked Alena this question multiple times in the past and her answer truly depended where they were at in their relationship.

Alena wasn’t sure.

Was she?

She was coming to terms that nothing was ever going to happen between her and Angel, that she was going to hand him the divorce paper and give him full custody of Cruz. It was the right thing to do, but she would like to visit Cruz if he would allow her. Carla was right, they couldn’t be in this limbo anymore. Cruz was growing so quickly and the last thing he needed was to continue to be fooled by their charade. She doesn’t doubt Angel cared for her, they knew one another way before Cruz came, but she couldn’t just count on that. She wanted a real marriage, kids of her own. She wanted something stable, but until she divorced Angel, she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t a cheater, she wasn’t her father.

“No, I’m not.” Alena gave her a small smile, trying to keep herself together so she didn’t cry. She didn’t want to cry. “I know I can’t be in this situation forever and it’ll be over soon. Once we pass the five years, we can get divorced. It’s just going to be hard letting go of Cruz.”

“You don’t have to let go of Cruz, I don’t think the little guy would let you.” Carla downed the rest of her wine, placing the glass on the table in between them. “I just want you to experience life Alena.”

“I am,” Alena confidently assured her. “It may not seem like it, but I am. I love our family and I wouldn’t trade it in for the world. I don’t need to date people to experience life. Being with Cruz and Angel taught me plenty, for example, no ice cream for a toddler after nine in the evening unless you want to stay up all night.”

The two women laughed.

Carla could tell Alena was trying to mask everything. Letting go of father and son was going to be difficult for her, but she needed to put herself first. She had to put herself first this time around and Carla was certain that Angel would understand.

No, no he wouldn’t, but this may be the wake-up call Angel needed.

Alena wasn’t going to wait forever and it seemed that someone has finally gotten past Angel’s intimidating figure and it definitely won’t bode well for Angel.

=============

They all sat around the table, with Cruz sitting in between Angel and Alena. EZ and Carla sat across from them. Angel was grilling the meat on the portable grill they had, various side dishes all around. It was like a Korean barbecue experience without the bustling noise of the restaurant. Cruz had his training chopsticks with the cute anime characters that he loved to watch on television so much.

"Tell us more about Victor." Carla looked at EZ with a mischievous glint. He shook his head, holding back a chuckle.

“Yeah, why don’t you?” Angel always had the impression that Victor was an old ass fucking man. To know he was around their age, it changed everything.

Alena looked at Carla like she was insane. She didn’t want to talk about Victor. Angel was obnoxiously protective over her and the last thing she wanted to tell Angel that she actually found Victor attractive. It wasn’t hard, if he would hear how she gushed about him, he would be able to tell.

“He’s a co-worker of mine. He lives a few doors down.” Minimal information was what she was going to do. It made things easier that way. “He took care of Cruz a few times when I got called into work unexpectedly.”

“How long have you known him?” EZ questioned, his brother wasn’t even paying attention to the meat on the grill.

“Seven years.”

“Seven years?!” Angel was surprised. He literally has never heard of Victor till maybe three years ago. Otherwise, Alena has never uttered his name. He just felt like Alena lived another life in San Diego.

Everyone looked at Angel due to his outburst. Cruz looked at his father curiously.

“Are you mad daddy?”

Angel looked down at Cruz and shook his head. “No, I’m not mad, daddy is just surprised cause mommy has never talked about Mr. Vic till a few years ago.”

“Mr. Vic is so nice, he bought mommy crayons the other week when we went to the museums.” Cruz proudly shared. “Mommy said we can share when we all paint together.”

It was a favorite family bonding time they had. Sometimes on a Saturday afternoon Angel, Alena and Cruz all painted together, did they get pieces done? No, but just spending that time together was really fun.

“Crayons huh?” Angel nodded his head, turning his attention back to the meat.

EZ watched as the annoyance on his brother’s face became more obvious. Carla watched on with glee, the possibility of Alena having a suitor obviously annoyed Angel.

“Wow Angel, have you ever gotten Alena any crayons?” EZ had to pull his older brother’s leg every once in a while, he wouldn’t be a younger brother if he didn’t.

“Shut up.” Angel put more meat on the grill.

Who the fuck was this guy? Crayons? Angel scoffed in his head at the silliness. He could get Alena one thousand fucking crayons. How the fuck has he not been told about this guy?

“Do you know Victor?” Angel asked Alena’s partner in crime, Carla.

“I’ve heard of him, never met him till today, but Alena, I told you, you’re the girl he was talking about.” Carla was just sprinkling gasoline on the fire.

“I am not, it still could be anyone.” Alena brushed her off.

“What does she mean?” Angel inquired.

“Victor has been talking to me about this girl he’s interested in, but she’s unavailable.” Alena explained.

“If he knows she’s unavailable, why keep pursuing her?” The nerve of this man. Fucking ridiculous.

“Well, if the relationship isn’t real, then why worry? Doesn’t count as cheating.” Carla reasoned.

“I’m not hungry.” Angel handed the tongs to EZ, standing up and stalking off to the bedroom.

Alena watched as Angel closed her bedroom door, frowning at his sudden outburst.

“Babe, that wasn’t nice.” EZ shook his head at his girlfriend.

“What? Did I say something?” Carla knew how to get under Angel’s skin, she was just giving him an extra push was all.

“Where daddy go?” Cruz shoved meat and rice in his mouth, looking around for Angel.

“Daddy wasn’t hungry, it’s okay baby, daddy will come back out.”

Angel couldn’t fucking believe Carla. How could she encourage this atrocity? They didn’t know this guy and to top it off, he was Valeria’s ex. Even though Valeria was psychotic as fuck, there must have been something wrong with this asshole since he married her.

This just didn’t sit well with Angel. He sat down on the bed before plopping down on his back. He didn’t think Alena lied to him nor was he angry with her, he just wanted to know how this guy fucking bypassed him. It’s not like he was always in San Diego with Alena, but she talked to him every day about her day. There was not a day that they didn’t talk, mostly due to Cruz. But this was fucking insane.

“Calm down Angel, don’t be an idiot. Just stay in the room, cool down.” He was talking to himself now. “Fucking great, I’m talking to my self. This is so stupid.”

The rest of the night went without a hitch. Alena brought Cruz to the room and found Angel smoking at her balcony. He didn’t acknowledge her presence, but she told him Cruz was on the bed. She put pillows on either side of him, just in case since Cruz moved around often when he was sleeping.

She was at the dining table, reviewing a few files she took home when she heard the door open. Looking up, she knew it would be Angel. He didn’t eat anything so she was almost certain he was hungry.

“I’m starving, are there any leftovers?” Alena pointed at the refrigerator.

Angel took out some Tupperware and heated up the food. He combined the rice and meat on the same Tupperware, going over to the dining table. He tapped Alena’s arm, helping her up. He sat on her seat and pulled her onto his lap. Looking at the papers, he moved a few around and watched as Alena took a few notes down.

“You feeling better?” She looked back at him.

He shoved a spoonful of food in his mouth and nodded his head. “Yeah cielo I’m good.” Angel answered once the food was down his throat. “Are you good?”

“I’m fine, I’m just worried about you. Don’t lie to me, what’s wrong?” She placed her pen down, slightly turning so she could see Angel.

“Why haven’t you told me about Victor before?” Angel was being unreasonable, but this guy has been a part of her life for seven years. Though he reasoned he may not be important since she never mentioned him.

“I don’t know, I just,” Alena sighed. “He’s my friend Angel, I didn’t know I had to tell you about my friends.”

“If he’s around our son you do.” Good reason Angel, he applauded himself, using Cruz when in reality, he knew Alena would never bring anyone around Cruz that would harm him.

“Angel, you’ve never cared about Victor before, I’ve mentioned him to you numerous times, and you never reacted, why care now?”

“Well he’s never asked you out before, has he?” Angel fucking hated hearing Victor ask her out, especially when he knew you were married.

Angel couldn’t get over that.

“No, come on Angel, it’s just a friendly dinner. I would never disrespect our marriage like that no matter how fake it is.” Alena turned back to her work. She hated talking to Angel about their marriage because it was a constant reminder that she had what she wanted but not exactly.

“Our marriage isn’t fake Alena.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it Angel.” Alena closed her eyes, trying to build her courage for her own sake. She turned to face him and he was shoving another spoonful in his mouth. “I know it’s not much to ask and you do it out of needs and such, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kiss me unless Cruz is around or we have sex at all.”

Angel almost choked on his food. Did she just say what he thought she just said?

“What?”

Alena didn’t reply and just continued to do her work.

“Hey, you can’t just ignore me after you say that.” Angel pulled her back against him, his warm breath against her neck. “You don’t like kissing me cielo?” He whispered against her ear.

Alena tried to sit up but Angel kept her on his lap. “Angel, please.”

“You found another motherfucker and now you don’t want me to touch you?” Angel was upset again. This guy expressed interest in her, Valeria’s ex-husband, and he didn’t matter now? Fuck that. “You’re my wife Alena, nothing is going to change that. You know you love it when I touch you.” His hand ran up and down her inner thigh.

“Angel, we’re not actually married.” Alena shivered feeling Angel’s hand inch closer to the bottom of her shorts.

“Are we not? We got married in city hall, baby. You’re a Reyes.” Angel was a bastard, he knew that. But he couldn’t let this motherfucker disrespect him like that. “We got your driver’s license changed and everything. You’re Alena Marie Reyes, and it’s going to stay that way. What about Cruz?”

Angel’s fingers made its way under her shorts, Alena placing her hand on his hand before he could go any further. “You’re overreacting. Victor is just my friend.”

“Better stay that way baby, you don’t want me to get involved.” Angel turned Alena’s face towards him and he gave her a quick kiss, pulling away and biting his lips. “You know you love kissing me.”

Alena couldn’t even speak. She just blushed and nodded her head. Angel smirked and continued eating.

He couldn’t ignore the nervousness in his stomach when Victor asked her out and how she entertained that idea. Then when she asked him that they shouldn’t be intimate anymore? That shit made his stomach drop. No matter how confident he appeared he was always frightened that Alena may meet someone.

He’s always been number one with Alena. He was always second best to EZ, but for her, he was always number one. He could hardly do wrong with her. This man was threatening that position and he couldn’t have that.

He couldn’t let Alena go.

#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

148 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 4 years

Text

How Does One...? 101.

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Sinju x Reader

Warning: NS/FW fail? Jk, suggestive.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: (light ns/fw maybe) Hello Lancer-senpai! I really adore your writing, especially for BSTS, so I wanted to request an one shot with Sinju! The scenario is; the two of you have dated for a bit and now Sinju is feeling it is time to go all the way, maybe (the s/o ofc really wants it too!)? It can be crack, fluff or NS/FW I just want to see what you come up with because I love what you do! I hope this isn't too vague :'D

A/N: Your request is not vague at all! I had so much fun writing this request. So, I decided to make it comical and include the Starless members in the start. I am SO sorry that reader enters much later on, but I couldn’t stop writing the first “half”. 😂

Word Count: 3,892

———————————————

Sinju shifted back onto the park bench, but his eyes remained fix on the shimmering water in front of him. He paid no heed to the people walking by nor to the conversation of the couple sitting next to him.

'What should I do?' The young boy kept asking himself again and again. 'We have been dating for a while, but..'

Shaking his head vigorously, he sighed, "Maybe I should ask someone for help."

He tightened his grip on the white paper cup in his left hand and stood up. Taking one last sip of his vanilla latte, he tossed the cup into the trash can and headed towards Starless.

"Hey, Rindou?" Sinju couldn't think of anyone better to ask for help than his trusted leader.

"What's wrong, Sinju?" Rindou gave him a warm smile, "Did something happen?"

"Do you have a few minutes? I need your advice on something."

The older male nodded and motioned his teammate to sit on the chair across him. Though he trusted his team leader, the young boy was nervous to talk openly about such a sensitive subject.

"So, I have a girlfriend, and we have been dating for a while now. Um...I-I have been thinking about...um, taking things one s-step further." Sinju shyly glanced at Rindou while drawing circles on the table in front of him. "I have n-no experience, so how do I go about it?"

Rindou tilted his head slightly, "Go about what?"

"You know." Sinju hoped that his team leader would catch on but seeing Rindou clueless, he had no choice but to say it, "How do I k-know that she'll be okay with me getting close to her? And...how do I properly m-make lo-love?"

The green-haired man's face turned bright red as he bit the corner of his lower lip. "U-uh...w-well...S-Sinju, I am not s-sure how to answer that..."

The usually cheerful boy lowered his eyes and mumbled, "I a-am sorry."

"Please don't apologize," Rindou spoke in a timid voice, "It's difficult for me to answer such a question, but...you could try asking the others?"

Sinju nodded, not wanting the moment to get any more awkward, "I will do that. Sorry again."

"Please don't apologize. I'm sorry for not being able to help."

Sinju smiled and thanked Rindou again before quickly walking out of the restaurant area. He stopped near the rehearsal room and placed his hand on his chest, drawing in deep breaths.

'Who do I ask now? Menou?'

The orange-haired man's expressionless face appeared in his mind, causing his eyes to widen.

'Maybe not him. Yakou?'

The memories of his trainee group flooded his head - his excitement, the company excusing him, his decision to leave without telling his group, his fight with Yakou, and his friend's attempt to overthrow Rindou.

He let out a heavy sigh and mumbled under his breath, "No way, I can ask him. Then, what about Ma-"

Before he could say the singer's name, a vivid image of a hole in a wall flashed in his mind. A chill ran down his spine, "I don't want to die yet."

"Why are you standing here talking to yourself?" A gruff voice called out behind him, causing the young boy to jump.

"K-Kokuyou, s-sorry." Sinju nervously tugged at his jacket's sleeve, "Say, can I ask you something?"

The taller man looked at his questioningly but waited for him to continue.

"U-Uh, well, I-I..."

"Stop stuttering and say whatever the hell you want to say!"

Sinju raised his hands in defense and shook his head, "Nothing! Sorry!"

With those words, he ran down the hall while Kokuyou stared at his back, confused. "What's his problem?"

Sinju ran out to the back alley and leaned his back against one of the walls, catching his breath. While waiting for his racing heart to calm down, he thought about who else he could ask.

'Akira might know, but what if he tells the other cast members about this? They won't let me live it down. Taiga may find this topic awkward. Sin...' Sinju paused and thought of the conversation he had with Sin a few days ago.

"Hi, Sin! How are you?"

"The waves sway to the wind's command even if they sought freedom."

Sinju tilted his head to the left and blinked, "What does that mean?"

Sin gave a smile and added a spoonful of tea leaves to a light blue teapot, "The moon may light the darkness, but a single cloud possesses the power to engulf the light."

The young boy felt blood rushing to his brain as he tried his hardest to decipher the poetic male's words.

"How does Team W understand him?" Sinju blinked away a few tears trying to escape his eyes. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, "Maybe I could try asking Takami later."

"It's rare seeing you in the back alley."

"H-Hey, Sotetsu." Sinju watched as the tall man sat down on one of the steps and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"Did you join the dark side and start smoking?" He chuckled and lit one of the cigarettes before taking a long puff.

"N-No." Sinju followed the smoke lazily and sighed, "If I ask you a question, will you charge me for it?"

Sotetsu started laughing, "You know me too well." He carefully analyzed Sinju's reaction before speaking again, "What's your question?"

"I can't pay you anything right now." He lowered his gaze, kicking a gray pebble in front of his shoe.

"Don't worry. I am asking to satisfy my curiosity."

"How do you know what woman want? I mean...are there specific signals or signs?" Team P's member mumbled, keeping his gaze on the ground.

He failed to notice an amused smirk forming on the older man's lips, "What do you mean?" Though he knew fully well what Sinju was insinuating, Sotetsu decided to test the water a little.

"I mean, how do you tell if a girl wan-" Sinju suddenly froze when it hit him that asking Sotetsu may be just as bad as asking Akira. 'What if he tells the others?'

"I just remembered that I have to...uh...go help Rindou. See you later." Sinju quickly walked past Sotetsu without glancing at him once.

Team K's member laughed to himself, "You can't even lie properly...you're too honest for your own good."

Once again lost in thought, Sinju absentmindedly turned a corner and nearly ran into Ginsei and Gui, but ended up losing his balance and fell on his behind.

"S-sorry, Sinju," Ginsei held out a hand and helped the blue-haired boy onto his feet, "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Actually, no, I am trying to figure something out but can't find an answer."

"What are you trying to find out?" Team K's second inquired.

"Ginsei, how do you properly treat a woman?" Sinju asked, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

"Well, that depends on the woman, but you have to be nice to her, listen to her words, treat her with respect-"

Shaking his head, Sinju interrupted, "T-That's not what I mean. How do you know what women want?"

"That again depends on the woman. Some like attention, some like their space," Ginsei paused after seeing a disappointed expression on Sinju's face, "Is that not what you're asking?"

Sinju shook his head and drew in a deep breath, gathering courage, "Is there a proper way to have s*x?"

Ginsei's jaw dropped at hearing Sinju's question as his face turned various shades of red. Not expecting such a bold question, Ginsei was at a complete loss of words, "U-Uh, I-I...w-well...um..."

Seeing the silver-haired man stuttering, Sinju bit the bottom of his lip, "I am sorry for being so straightforward." He hung his head and dragged his heavy feet out of there.

"Ginsei?" Gui called him but got no response. He shook his team member gently, "Ginsei?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"What does s*x mean?" Gui asked innocently, leaning his head to one side.

Ginsei nearly dropped to the ground. His eyes grew as wide as they possibly could while his cheeks kept getting redder. "Gui, don't EVER ask that question to anyone. Actually, forget that you ever heard that word."

Back to square one, Sinju trudged his way through the empty halls of Starless. As he made his way back towards the rehearsal room, he heard a faint sound coming from inside. Taking a peek inside, he saw Mokuren stretching his muscles.

"Mokuren." Sinju cautiously stepped inside, but as soon as he saw Moku's glare, he retreated out of the room, "I am sorry to disturb you!"

"Someone seems frazzled."

Sinju swiftly turned around to see Zakuro and Hari standing behind him. He pondered for a second but decided that he didn't know them well enough to tell them his issue. "I'm okay."

Heading into the locker room, Sinju ran down his now nearly depleted list of who to ask. 'I don't want to ask Rico...he's most likely going to make fun of me. Asking Ran and Mizuki is out of the question. Heath might get embarrassed.'

He plopped onto the chair in front of the makeup vanity and stared at himself in the mirror, examining his dark circles and pale face. Sinju slouched further into the chair and closed his eyes. 'That leaves Kei, Takami, Qu, Kasumi, and Kongou.'

----

It was a new day, and Sinju decided to try his luck once again, hoping that he will get an answer or answers this time around. He poked his head into the management office and spoke in a shaky voice, "Kei, do you h-have a minute?"

Kei glanced at him and nodded, motioning him to come inside. "Why do you sound nervous? Did your team members get into another fight?"

Sinju closed the door behind him before shaking his head. "Thankfully, no, but I wanted to ask you something. I h-have a kinda personal question," he raised his hands in front of him, "not personal as in prying information about you."

"What do you want to know?" Kei asked in his signature baritone voice, maintaining a straight face.

"H-How do I know my girlfriend is...um...ready to get c-close to me? And how do I...ma-make love properly?" Sinju couldn't meet the older male's eyes after those words left his mouth.

Kei's lips slightly parted, and his eyebrows rose a notch. Though he was astonished, Kei quickly gathered himself. A smile soon appeared on his lips. Sinju slowly drew his eyes up to see Kei smiling, much to his surprise.

"If your girlfriend wants you to get close to her, you will be able to tell from her body language." Kei paused to allow Sinju to ask any new questions.

"Body..language?"

"Yes. Each female has her way of hinting that she's ready. You will have to figure this out on your own, but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?" Kei studied Sinju's expressions before continuing, "To answer your second question, there is no proper way of making love. But, make sure to pay attention to her needs."

"I see." Sinju rubbed the back of his head, taking in the information piece-by-piece, "Thank you, Kei."

Bowing slightly, he turned on his heels and headed towards the door, overjoyed that he finally got an answer to his question. Meanwhile, Kei quietly chuckled and whispered to himself, "How sweet."

Sinju skipped to the locker room but stopped upon hearing his name. Spinning around, he saw Takami walking towards him. "Someone is happy today."

The young boy gave a grin, "Hey, Takami."

"Did something good happen?"

"I finally got an answer to my question." Sinju leaned against the door to the locker room and spoke in a quiet voice.

"What question would that be?" Takami asked curiously, pushing his glasses closer to his face with his index finger.

Sinju pressed his lips together, thinking whether or not he should ask Takami as well. 'More opinions won't hurt, right? After all, Kei said there's no right way.'

Before asking, Sinju looked up and down the hallway, making sure that no one was around. "Takami, do you have any tips for...my f-first time?"

"First time?" He asked in a whisper.

"Yes, first time...getting close to my g-girlfriend."

Takami smiled at Sinju's nervousness, "Follow your instincts and have patience."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Takami. I need to get ready for floor duty."

Team W's member smirked a little as he watched his co-worker disappear into the locker room. "That was unexpected."

----

Once Team W started their show, Sinju followed Qu and Kasumi back to the locker room for a short break. He sat on one of the benches and stretched his legs, "That was hectic."

"It's pretty busy for a weekday," Kasumi chimed in while nodding in agreement.

Qu finished touching up his foundation and gazed at Sinju through the mirror, "Sinju, did something happen yesterday?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Hari and Zakuro were saying something about you not looking too well," Qu said in a concerned tone.

"Oh, that? Can I ask you two a question? You promise to keep it a secret?" Sinju asked, looking back and forth at the friends. They nodded in unison.

"I am thinking about taking my relationship with my girlfriend one step further. Do you two have any suggestions?"

A gentle smile danced on Qu's lips, "Well, you could try to set up the mood. Soft music, roses, candles..."

Kasumi leaned back on the bench and added, "You could start by watching a romantic movie."

The corner of Sinju's lips rose little-by-little as he began to picture the date in his mind. "Sounds perfect."

"Good luck, Sinju." Kasumi patted his shoulder as Qu nodded in agreement.

"Now, shall we get back to our duty?" The silver-haired beauty chuckled and warned the men that their break was coming to an end.

----

The day was almost over. Sinju was one of the last ones left in the store. He opened his locker and started gathering his belonging, humming to himself.

"Sinju, you are still here?"

"I had to finish cleaning. Are you locking up the store today, Kongou?" Sinju closed his locker and made his way to the ex-wrestler.

"Yeah. Are you heading to the train station? If so, mind if we walk together?" Kongou asked politely.

"I'll wait for you at the entrance." Sinju smiled and excused himself.

Locking up the store, the two men walked past a crowd of tourists, giving each one of them a smile. Even at a distance, they could hear the females in the group giggling.

"So, how was your day?" Kongou asked, "I heard floor duty was an adventure today."

"Yeah, there were so many demands. I am sure you were super busy in the kitchen."

"It was busy, but at least there were no accidents." Kongou laughed.

Silence filled the air as the two men walked past a usually busy park. A light breeze ruffled a few of Sinju's loose hair strands. "Hey Kongou, do you have a girlfriend?"

Surprised by the sudden question, the tall man turned his head towards Sinju, "Well, n-no, but why do you ask?"

Realizing that he may sound nosy, the young boy quickly apologized, "Oh, s-sorry. I have received a lot of good tips today about how to treat my girlfriend, but I want to ask you for your opinion as well."

"Treat as in?"

"Get c-close to her." He whispered and puffed his cheek.

Though Kongou was taken aback by the question, he found Sinju's expressions to be quite cute. Clearing his throat, he spoke calmly, "Since it sounds like your first time, I suggest you pay heavy attention to foreplay to get both of you ready. Also remember to use protection."

Sinju nodded and thanked Kongou for his advice before parting ways with him. While on the train, he took out his phone and texted you.

Sinju: Are you free the day after tomorrow? You: I have all the time in the world for you.❤️ Sinju: 😀 Then, do you want to come over to my house? Um...in the evening?

Not seeing an immediate reply, almost made Sinju regret asking you. ‘Did I scare her off? Does she think I’m moving too fast? Maybe she isn’t ready.’ DING. DING. DING.

Sinju was startled to hearing his notification going off. He scrambled to unlock his phone, nearly dropping it in the process. An elder lady sitting across from him even asked him to calm down. Apologizing to her, the nervous boy opened your messages.

You: I would love to come over. About time you asked. You: AHHH I can’t wait!!! You: See you in two days! ❤️❤️❤️

Though you sent him three messages, Sinju’s eyes were glued to the first message. He kept reading it over and over.

“...but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?”

Kei’s words echoed in Sinju’s ears. ‘What does she mean by ‘about time I asked’? Does this mean...she has been waiting for me to make a move?’

----

Sinju spent the entire morning jumping from one shop to another. He wanted to make the date night as perfect as he possibly could. After all, this was going to be the best night of your life as well as his. After nearly spending three hours picking out items, he returned to his home and began to decorate the living room.

Evening came around, and Sinju got dressed in his finest white shirt and black dress pants. He dabbed a bit of your favorite cologne on his neck and fixed his hair.

Knock. Knock.

Sinju nearly ran to the door after hearing the knocking. He took a deep breath and opened the door, "Hey, (Y/N). How-"

The words got caught in his throat when his eyes landed on you. Sinju slowly moves his eyes downwards, taking in your short plunging V-neck, spaghetti strap, red lace dress. No one told him that you would dress this way for the date.

"So? How do I look?" You asked, twirling around, causing the ruffle hem of your dress to lift a little.

Sinju quickly averted your eyes and mumbled, "You look g-great. Come in."

As soon as you stepped in, you were stunned by the effort your boyfriend put into the decoration. Candles were methodically placed to create a pathway leading to a petal covered coffee table. Amidst the red rose petals laid a dark green wine bottle, a pair of wine glasses, and a snack platter. To add to the atmosphere, Sinju had closed the curtains and shut off the lights.

"Beautiful..."

A grin appeared on Sinju's lips as he took hold of your hand, leading you towards the living area. Sitting you on the sofa, he opened the wine bottle and poured the aromatic dark red liquid into both glasses.

Once you were comfortable, Sinju turned on the TV and started the movie he had picked. A few minutes into the movie, Sinju's gaze meandered over at your legs. How he wished that your dress would slide up just a little more so he could get a glimpse of - he caught his wandering mind and forced his attention back to the TV screen.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, making him smile. He leaned over to kiss the top of your head when he saw an unavoidable view - your pushed up mounds nearly spilling out of your dress. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't avert his gaze. His pants were becoming too tight for his liking.

'Patience. Have patience.' He reminded himself, tapping his foot in a rhythmic pattern. You felt his eyes on you but decided to ignore it for the time being.

Then it came on - the scene Sinju had been waiting for. The actor and actress drew near, pressing their lips firmly together. Not a moment later, their clothes were flying left and right. Both of you were speechless as you gawked at their naked bodies melting together. You slowly shifted your eyes to meet Sinju's orange ones.

'This is my chance.' He leaned down closer to your face, eyes staring straight into yours. You eagerly waited for his warm lips, but instead, his nose collided with yours, causing both of you to pull back.

"S-sorry." Sinju had never felt more embarrassed, but your giggle gave him the courage to try again. Once again, leaning in, he tilted his head and met your lips.

The kiss that started sweet had now turned passionate. Sinju rested his hand on one of your exposed legs, not breaking the kiss, and began to stroke up. Rip. Sinju broke the kiss and looked down at your dress. His bracelet got caught on the lace and managed to rip a small portion.

'Why does this keep happening?' Sinju apologized to you, but instead of getting angry, you started laughing.

"Don't worry about it. Forget about that." You whispered and helped free his bracelet, "Where were we?"

Sinju smiled shyly and peppered your face with kisses while running his hand to your back. Not being able to control his excitement, he tried to untie the strings holding up your dress.

"Sinju, what's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

"You dress is a little complicated to remove." His voice had a range of emotions.

"It's okay, take your time. Meanwhile, let me have a little fun." You whispered playfully and pushed him back on the sofa.

Sinju stared at you with wide eyes while you climbed on top of him, blushing deeply. Running your hands up his chest, you began to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feast your eyes on his muscles.

Being too shocked to move, Sinju ran over the list of things the members had told him. Patience, foreplay, pay attention to her needs, follow instincts, and mood. No one warned him that you would attempt to seduce him. No one warned him that you would be undressing him. NO ONE warned him. He was far from mentally prepared for this.

You stopped when you realized that Sinju was not reacting to your touch; instead, he was staring off into space, looking like he saw a ghost.

"Sinju? What's wrong?"

He shook his head and sat up with you, "N-nothing."

The room went silent. Neither Sinju nor you moved from your place. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but everything was far from perfect. Both of you were disappointed.

Not wanting to face you anymore, Sinju went to get up but accidentally poked the side of your waist, earning a yelp from you.

"Sinju!"

A playful smile slowly appeared on his lips.

"What's that smile for? Sinju? What are you planning to do?" You shifted back on the couch in apprehension.

Out of nowhere, Sinju dug his fingers into your sides and began to tickle you. No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he refused to listen. Grabbing a pillow near you, you began hitting Sinju with it.

Laughter echoed through his apartment. Sinju chased you around his home, trying to tickle you while you grabbed any soft item you could and threw it at him. What was supposed to be a perfect, romantic date night had now turned into a cute date.

Though this was far from what Sinju expected, he knew there was always next time.

#bsts #bsts sinju #blackstar theater starless

37 notes · View notes

qatirna-can-read · 3 years

Text

Tsagaan Sar - Q

Khadagan chopped feverishly at a head of garlic. A young Qatirna - still too small to look up and see the tears painting her mother’s cheeks - toddled up to the woman, gripping at the fabrics of her skirts for balance.

“Mama! <What cooking?!>” the child shouted excitedly in a broken Eorzean Xaelic tongue. She nuzzled her face into the layered fabrics and giggled.

Khadagan set the knife down on the cutting board and used the back of her clawed hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes. She looked down at her daughter and smiled an earnest but sad smile. Before picking the affectionate child up and balancing her on her hip so she could use a free hand to stir a pot simmering on the stove.

She looked so much like her father. Little freckles dancing across her nose just the way Batu’s did. Her strange purple eyes that appeared to shine differently depending on her mood. Even the child’s tail, long and slender and tipped with spines, mirrored that of her late progenitor.

Khadagan kissed her daughter’s nose, just below her scales, right on her warm purple freckles atop her soft hematite soil skin. “Mama is making feast of Tsagaan Sar.” She gave a gentle smile, “In Mama’s homeland this is very important time.”

She placed the child back on the ground, “You want to help Mama?”

Qatirna looked up at her mother with a broad confused smile and nodded enthusiastically.

“<Will you help me mix this, please?>” Khadagan handed a small wooden bowl to a tiny outstretched clawed grasp. With the bowl in Qatirna’s hands, Khadagan picked her up once more to set her down at a table nearby. She handed over a small wooden spoon then began pouring dry ingredients into the bowl as the little girl mixed with delight.

“<Thank you, my sweet desert rose.>” Khadagan kissed the dark hair on her daughter’s head and beamed at the display in joy and amusement as the two prepared for the feast together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Qatirna playfully kneaded the dumpling dough as her mother fussed over the fillings she had simmering in several pots over a single fire. She still required a stool to reach over the counter, and even standing a fulm higher from the ground, she still only came midway up her mother’s arm.

“Mama, done!” she shouted proudly.

Khadagan looked at the little girl with a bemused smile, coming over to help her child. “<Let Mama show you.>”

Qatirna stared at her mother with a serious expression, nodding her head to indicate her readiness to learn.

Her mother brought over a dull stone knife, placing it on the counter between them. She showed her daughter how to roll out the dough. "<Like this, Little Flame. Make it like a snake.>"

Qatirna rolled the dough, more playing than working, but learning all the same.

"<Please be cautious not to cook the dough.>" Her mother added.

"<Okay Mama. I careful.>" Qatirna had recently come into her magic and still struggled to not catch her hands on fire when she got excited. “<Mama?>” she paused her rolling to ask, “<Is friends come to Tsagaan Sar?>”

"" she answered softy with a grin.

The child blushed, burying her embarrassed face melodramatically in her folded arms. Petra was Qatirna’s best friend. She was Qatirna’s first friend. Kind, funny, adventurous. Qatirna also thought she was really pretty, and her mother knew that and found it adorable.

"<Mamaaa!>" she whined at her mother's teasing.

Khadagan tousled the little girl's hair before moving to show her how to cut off the pieces of dough and pull them out flat. "<Like this, little one.>" and she cut off a piece of dough for her daughter to practice with as well.

"<Like this, Mama?>" Qatirna pulled the dough flat, although the shape she made was somewhat laughable.

Khadagan giggled at the child, "<You're getting it. Now let's practice folding. Watch carefully.>" she neatly took the edges of her own flattened dough and tucked them into the center, twirling the whole thing at the end to create a shape reminiscent of flower petals.

Qatirna stared in awe before attempting to do as her mother did. She folded everything into the middle, creating an oddly shaped cone. "<What do you think?>" She scooped up the cone dough with both hands before holding it out to her mother for inspection.

The older Xaela looked at her daughter's practice folds with great scrutiny, her brow furrowed in a serious expression. "<hmm… yes! This is perfect. You keep practicing and you will be Khatun of Tsagaan Sar!>" She beamed brightly at her daughter before booping her nose with a flour covered finger. They both stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two red Xaela women weaved expertly through the crowds of the farmer's market. Both dressed in colorful wrapped sarongs. The one in browns and reds looked only just of age. Young and pretty, long flowing onyx hair with red undertones matched her onyx scales sitting atop red clay skin. Her eyes burned bright with a unique violet hue and her full clover lips grinned at the older and taller Xaela adorned with gentle blues. ""

The Xaela in blue, despite being twice the age of the Xaela in red, was still just as beautiful as her daughter. She wore her silver peppered black hair held back with a scarf. Her own onyx scales protected her deep red skin, even darker than the crimson of her daughter's.

"" She smiled back, her canines notably sharper than Qatirna’s.

Qatirna shrugged in amusement at her, moving to examine a nearby stand. “ Petra has been showing me some of her family recipes lately.”

“<Hmm..>” Khadagan took her place by her daughter’s side, leaning down to sniff the orange bag of spice Qatirna had her eye on. “”

“<Mama! What? No!>”

“<By the time your father was your age he was already wed.>” she said matter-of-factly.

“” she responded in a restrained hiss.

The man tending the stand stared blankly at the two women speaking in the unfamiliar language. “Did you ladies want to purchase any spices?” He asked, indifferent to their squabbles.

“Yes, please! I would like… a small container of that, and a medium container of that one.” Qatirna pointed to the orange powder, then a yellow powder, before she began digging through her satchel for the gil to pay. Her cheeks had turned a substantially darker red than usual.

"<Qatirna! You should show respect for your father's culture!>" Khadagan pestered, now standing behind her daughter, a good 5 or 6 ilms taller.

Qatirna winced at her public scolding. Despite the fact that no one in the market could understand the two, anyone could see the basic theme of their conversation.

"" Qatirna replied as she turned away from the stand, gently tucking the spices into a side pocket of her satchel. "" she sighed. "<Does everyone know that I invite Kazagg Chah? He is very important mentor to me and I do not wish for discomfort between guests.>"

"<Yes, my desert rose. I've told the other guests. They know of your friendship with the beast tribes and no one should make a fuss.>" she placed a reassuring hand on her daughter's arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "<We can speak more of Petra at another time.> Now where is pork farmer?"

Khadagan wandered off towards the meats section of the market with Qatirna following close behind.

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Qatirna stirred awake from a restless sleep. Her body felt heavy, like weights had woven their way up and down her arms and legs in the night. With a great deal of effort, she pushed herself up and out of bed.

For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the empty silence in her home. She moved across her room and down the stairs of her loft, graceful yet absentminded. The only thing keeping her mind connected to this time and place was the feel of the cold hard ground beneath her feet. This morning seemed stiller than most, or perhaps the quiet hit harder today in particular.

She placed the kettle on the burner, lighting the fire below with a flame conjured in her palm, same as she did most mornings. She closed her eyes, taking a deep strangled breath, before making her way to the ice box to pull out some pork she planned to marinate. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to use the traditional spices her mother taught her as a child or if she wanted to use the spice mixture she'd created with her late mother and ex fiancé.

While she rummaged through her spice cabinet she began to hum. An old Auri lullaby, taught to her by her mother. Her father sang it to her during their brief time together before his death, or so she'd been told. Sometimes the tune brought her comfort, today it stung her with a sick longing. Despite this, she continued to sing.

She busied herself, trying to keep her mind free, trying to keep any pesky thoughts of tragedy and loss at bay. The new recipe, she thought, to honor all those we lost.

Her mind was still until she began pouring the spices into a small mixing bowl. A memory trickled to the forefront of her thoughts: her mother asking her toddler self for 'help' mixing dry ingredients. A sad smile spread across her lips. She gripped the counter's edge, claws drumming the tabletop as she attempted to hold off any further thoughts of her past.

The trickle of that memory pushed past her efforts to repair the dam of hindsight. It crumbled and burst. Memories flooded back as waves of grief crashed over her. Suddenly she was drowning within herself.

A soft sob escaped her throat. She felt the familiar sting of tears welling in her eyes. Her head spun in a storm of everything that was, everything that could have been, everything she should have done. Teenage arguments with her mother, a first kiss, snacks lovingly prepared and placed near her while she studied, laughing at inside jokes, singing traditional songs in various languages, making a fire on cold nights, soup made for the sick. She crumpled. Falling to the floor like a warrior taking an arrow in the heart. A whimper on the floor of her kitchen became a sob became an agonizing wail. She clawed desperately at the floor, although her hands found no purchase. Even though she was hyperventilating she couldn’t fill her lungs with a full breath of air.

She had no control here in the tempest. She held fiercely to her sorrow, the only feeling she could cling to for any measure of stability, as she slowly pulled herself tighter, smaller, into herself.

The sharply whistling kettle cut through the screams of her weeping. She looked up through puffy eyes, glowing a vibrant indigo. She stopped her sobs, coughing at the thick film that coated her throat, before pulling herself back up to remove the kettle from the burner. She laughed at the kettle for pulling her out of hysteria, although the sound choked out as a half chuckle half sob.

She shook her head, letting out a deep sigh, climbing up the counter to reach the tea on the top shelf. Her mother had been several ilms taller than her, and aside from lalafells, they were the two shortest people she’d ever known. She placed the tea on the counter gingerly before hopping back down. A clay mug sat on a cabinet nearby, she pulled that down as well. It looked like a tankard in her small hands. After pouring the water and leaves she held the steam up to her face, allowing it to soothe her skin, tender from crying.

This would have to be enough. She had no other options than for this to be enough. She breathed in a rough quivered breath before reaching just below where she’d grabbed her mug. Pulling a strong spiced spirit from the bottom shelf, she took a swig several gulps worth. She closed her eyes, allowing the burn to roll through her, numbing some of that pain in her chest.

She could go on. Once again she turned her attention back to the feast she prepared for one. Utterly alone.

#Qatirna #Tsagaan Sar

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shiredded · 5 years

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A white animation student’s take on Soul and POC cartoons

This got long but there’s lots of pretty pictures to go with it.

Hi, I’m Shire and I’m as white as a ripped-off Pegasus prancing on a stolen van. Feel free to add to my post, especially if you are poc. The next generation of animators needs your voice now more than ever.

My opinion doesn’t matter as much here because I’m not part of the people being represented.

But I am part of the people to whom this film is marketed, and as the market, I think I should be Very Aware of what media does to me.

And as the future of animation, I need to do something with what I know.

I am very white. I have blue eyes and long blond hair. I’ve seen countless protagonists, love interests, moms, and daughters that look like me. If I saw an animated character that looks like me turn into a creature for the majority of a movie, I would cheer. Bring it on! I have plenty of other representation that tells me I’m great just the way I am, and I don’t need to change to be likable.

The moment Soul’s premise was released, many people of color expressed mistrust and disappointment on social media. Let me catch you up on the plot according to the new (march 2020) trailer. (It’s one of those dumb modern trailers that tells you the entire plot of the movie including the climax; so I recommend only watching half of it)

Our protagonist, Joe Gardner, has a rich (not in the monetary sense) and beautiful life. He has dreams! He wants to join a jazz band! So far his life looks, to me, comforting, amazing, heartfelt, and real. I’m excited to learn about his family and his music.

Some Whoknowswhat happens, and he enters a dimension where everyone, himself included, is represented by glowing, blue, vaguely humanoid creatures. They’re adorable! But they sure as heck aren’t brown. The most common response seems to be dread at the idea of the brown human protagonist spending the majority of his screen time as a not-brown, not-human creature.

The latest trailer definitely makes that look pretty darn true. He does spend most of the narrative - chronologically - as a blob.

but

That isn’t the same as his screen time.

From the look of the trailer, Joe and his not-yet-born-but-already-tired-of-life soul companion tour Joe’s story in all of its brown-skinned, human-shaped, life-loving glory. The movie is about life, not about magic beans that sing and dance about burping (though I won’t be surprised if that happens too.)

Basically! My conclusion is “it’s not as bad as it looked at first, and it looks like a wonderful story.”

but

That doesn’t mean it’s ok.

Yes, Soul is probably going to be a really important and heartfelt story about life, the goods, the bads, the dreams, and the bonds. That story uses a fun medium to view that life; using bright, candy-bowl colors and a made-up world to draw kids in with their parents trailing behind.

It’s a great story and there’s no reason to not create a black man for the lead role. There’s no reason not to give this story to people of color. It’s not a white story. This is great!

Except...

we’ve kind of

done this

a lot

The Book of Life and Coco also trade in their brown-skinned cast for a no-skinned cast, but I don’t know enough about Mexican culture to say those are bad and I haven't picked up on much pushback to those. There’s more nuance there, I think.

I cut the above pics together to show how the entire ensemble changes along with the protagonist. We can lose entire casts of poc. Emperor's New Groove keeps its cast as mostly human so at least we have Pacha

And while the animals they interact with might be poc-coded, there’s nothing very special or affirming about “animals of color.”

So, Soul.

Are we looking at the same thing here?

It’s no secret by now that this is an emerging pattern in animation. But not all poc-starring animated films have this same problem. We have Moana! With deuteragonists (basically co-protagonists) of color, heck yeah.

Aladdin... Pocahontas... The respect those films have for their depicted culture is... an essay for another time. Mulan fits here too. the titular characters’ costars are either white, or blue, and/or straight up animals. But hey, they don’t turn into animals, and neither do the supporting cast/love interests.

Dreamworks’ Home (2015) is also worth mentioning as a poc-led film where the deuteragonist is kind of a purple blob. But the thing I like a lot about Home is that it’s A Nice Story, where there’s no reason for the protagonist to not be poc, so she is poc. Spiderverse has a black lead with a white (or masked, or animal) supporting cast. But, spiderverse also has Miles’ dad, mom, uncle, and Penny Parker.

I’d like to see more of that.

And less of this

if you’re still having trouble seeing why this is a big deal, let’s try a little what-if scenario.

This goes out to my fellow white girls (including LGBTA white girls, we are not immune to propaganda racism)

imagine for a second you live in a world where animation is dominated to the point of almost total saturation by protagonist after protagonist who are boys/men. You do get the occasional woman-led film, but maybe pretend that 30 to 40 percent of those films are like

(We’re pretending for a second that Queen Eleanor was the protagonist, because I couldn’t think of any animated movies where the white lady protagonist turns into and stays an animal for the majority of the film)

Or, white boys and men, how would you feel if your most popular and marketable representation was this?

Speaking of gender representation, binary trans and especially nonbinary trans people are hard pressed to find representation of who they are without the added twist of Lizard tails or horns and the hand-waving explanation of “this species doesn’t do gender” But again, that’s a different essay.

Let’s look at what we do have. In reality, we (white people) have so much representation that having a fun twist where we spend most of the movie seeing that person in glimpses between colorful, glittering felt characters that reflect our inner selves is ok.

Wait, that aesthetic sounds kind of familiar...

But I digress. Inside Out was a successful and honestly helpful and important movie. I have no doubt in my mind that Soul will meet and surpass it in quality and and in message.

There is nothing wrong with turning your protagonist of color into an animal or blob for most of their own movie.

But it’s part of a larger pattern, and that pattern tells people of color that their skin would be more fun if it was blue, or hairy, or slimy, or something. It’s fine to have films like that because heck yeah it would be fun to be a llama. But it’s also fun to not be a llama. It’s fun to be a human. It’s fun to be yourself. I don’t think children of color are told that enough.

At least, not by mainstream studios. (The Breadwinner, produced by Cartoon Saloon)

It’s not like all these mainstream poc movies are the result of racist white producers who want us to equate people of color with animals. In fact, most of those movies these days have people of color very high up, as directors, writers, or at the very least, a pool of consultants of color.

These movies aren’t evil. They aren’t even that intrinsically racist (Pocahontas can go take a hike and rethink its life, but we knew that.) It’s that we need more than just the shape-shifting narratives of our non-white protagonists.

It’s not like there isn’t an enormous pool of ideas, talent, visions and scripts already written and waiting to be produced. There is.

But they somehow don’t make it past the head executives, way above any creative team, who make the decisions, aiming not for top-of-the-line stories, but for the Bottom line of sales.

When Disney acquired Pixar, their main takeover was in the merchandising department. The main target for their merchandise are, honestly, white children.

So is it much of a surprise

that they are more often greenlighting things palatable for as many “discerning” mothers as possible?

I saw just as many Tiana dolls as frog toys on the front page of google, so don’t worry too much about The Princess And The Frog. Kids love her. But I didn’t find any human figures of Kenai from Brother Bear, except for dolls wearing a bear suit.

So. What do I think of Soul?

I think it’s going to be beautiful. I think it’s going to be a great movie.

But I also think people of color deserve more.

Let’s take one more look at the top people who went into making this movie.

Of the six people listed here, five are white. Kemp Powers, one of the screenplay writers, is black.

It’s cool to see women reaching power within the animation industry, but this post isn’t about us.

We need to replace the top execs and get more projects greenlit that send the message that african, asian, latinix, middle eastern, and every other non-white ethnicity is perfect and relatable as the humans they were meant to be.

Disney is big enough that they can - and therefore should - take risks and produce movies that aren’t as “marketable” simply because art needs to be made. People need to be loved.

Come on, millennials and Gen Z. We can do better.

We Will do better.

TLDR: A lot of mainstream animation turns its protagonists of color into animals or other creatures. I (white) don’t think that’s a bad thing, except for the fact that we don’t get enough poc movies that AREN’T weird. Support Soul; it’s not going to be as bad as you think. It’s probably gonna be really good. Let’s make more good movies about people of color that stay PEOPLE of color.

#soul #pixar #disney #poc #animation #long post #shire screams

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

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Top Albums of 2020

I was tagged by the amazing @joonni to list my top nine twelve albums of 2020! This was honestly so hard, but so fun. I love any tags to do with music xD (Your music taste was amazing btw! Sorry I went a little crazy and did a few extra lol.) Thanks lovie 💓

I went with the albums that I loved as whole (aka I loved most, if not all, of the songs) and listened to the most this year. Some choices have deeper meanings, while others were just flat-out enjoyable. I also stuck with albums that came out this year only, but I wasn’t sure if that was inherently part of the challenge. I wasn’t too picky on the criteria, just went with the ones that made up the score for my 2020. All albums have Spotify links incase something catches your eye! (Apologies for my extra-ness; I added recommendations from each album and a brief...ish explanation as to why it made the list.)

Also, they’re in no particular order, because this was difficult enough...

Map of the Soul: 7 by BTS

Explanation — This album was my first comeback as part of the BTS Army. There are so many tracks that I adore, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I was so excited for music. It breathed life into my Spotify, it was the album I listened to the most this year, and Black Swan was my most listened song. The differing music genres that they played with, all the way from orchestral to trap to hip hop and synth pop, left me more and more excited as the songs progressed. If there was a #1 on this list, it would be MOTS:7.

Highlights — Interlude: Shadow, Black Swan, ON, We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal

Zero: Fever Part.1 by Ateez

Explanation — This was the soundtrack to my summer. I hadn’t heard much from Ateez, but what I had heard, I wasn’t a huge fan of? Maybe I hadn’t been grabbed yet, but oh boy. Zero: Fever definitely did that. Every track is such high energy and memorable, so it was so hard to pick favorites! I’ll always think back on this one for summer, and will be transported back to plenty of sunset commutes.

Highlights — Fever, Thanxx, One Day At A Time

The Dream Chapter: Eternity by Tomorrow x Together

Explanation — Until this mini album, I had only listened to TXT in passing. I liked their stuff, but I feel like this is where they really found their stride. TDC:E caught me totally off-guard, in the best way possible. To me at least, this one is a work of art. Each of the six tracks is so entrancing, and so different from each other while still working together as a cohesive story. And don’t even get me started on the MVs! This is an album that I listen to for feels and fun, which to me, TXT are just brilliant at.

Highlights — Fairy of Shampoo, Maze in the Mirror, Eternally

Dystopia: The Tree of Language by Dreamcatcher

Explanation — It took me forever to find a girl group that I could really stan, like hardcore. This comeback for Dreamcatcher was when I realized they were it for me. This album in particular is so diverse. Their voices are both haunting and beautiful, and the way they interweave rock/alternative elements into their music has always turned my ear. They are so different from so many other girl groups out there, from the sound to their stage presence to their aesthetic. I will never stop talking about them, and this album really shows the best of their work thus far.

Highlights — Red Sun, Sahara, Paradise

BE by BTS

Explanation — How could BE not be on this list? What a perfect end to a shitty year. There’s something so comforting yet uplifting about this one, and I will happily admit I cried when I first heard Blue & Grey. Who am I kidding, I still do. There’s only one other artist I have listed on here with two albums, so BTS is in good company. What more is there to say other than BE was the warm hug we all needed.

Highlights — Life Goes On, Blue & Grey, Dis-ease, Stay

Heng:garae by Seventeen

Explanation — This is another group that I hadn’t listened to much before this album. I was so surprised and excited. Every song that passed, I found myself smiling more. Their voices are astoundingly beautiful, and the songs are sickeningly catchy. Another album that I go to just to have fun. It’s one of my favorites to just put on when a day is good, but doesn’t Seventeen make it a little better regardless?

Highlights — Fearless, Kidult, I Wish, Together

The Untamed by various

Explanation — If you’ve seen the Chinese drama The Untamed, then you know exactly why this is on there. This album is a collection of songs that are themes for the characters in the show, most of which are sung by the actors themselves. Let me tell you; I don’t know a lick of Mandarin, but these are some of the most stunning songs I’ve ever heard. It’s one of the things that drew me to the drama to begin with; everything, including the music, is breathtaking. The classical Chinese sound plays so well with the character’s stories and singer’s vocals. They tell stories all on their own and give the drama so much depth. Even if you’re not a fan of the show or webtoon it’s based on, give this one a listen. You won’t be disappointed!

Highlights — [Wen Qing] woodland, [Wen Ning] Chi Ni, [Lan Xichen] Bu You, [Jiang Yanli & Jin Zixuan] Yong Ge, [Interlude] Yi Nan Ping, [Nie Minghao & Nie Huaisang] Qing He Ju

Humanity (Chapters I & II) by Thomas Bergersen

Explanation — If you know anything about me, you know how important orchestral music is to me. It’s been a huge part of my music journey ever since I was in middle school. Thomas Bergersen has been my favorite composer for years; the way he integrates the classical with the modern is just...there are no words. These two albums cannot be listed separately; they’re part of a seven-part project titled Humanity. Chapters I & II came out in 2020, and honestly, I have no words. The way he tells a story through almost entirely lyric-less work is just immaculate. I’ve never felt more powerful, emotional, or inspired than when listening to these two. I cried when I first heard Your Imagination and Materialize. No matter how I am feeling, whether I need inspiration or hope or just some peace of mind, I go here. I’ve never felt more healed than when listening to his work. If you take a chance to listen to anything on this list, PLEASE. Give these a try.

Highlights — We Are One, Wings, Humanity, Your Imagination, Materialize, Innocence, The Stars Are Coming Home

Brightest Blue by Ellie Goulding

Explanation — I don’t listen to a ton of western music that isn’t orchestral or lofi, but I used to adore Ellie Goulding. Halcyon was my entire teen-hood. When I saw she came out with a new album this year, I gave it a listen for sentimentality reasons. And boy, I still love her. Her voice is both angelic and haunting, and her sound is so unique. The messages given in these songs are powerful, potent, a tad bit bittersweet, and especially valid for young women navigating adult life. Also the instrumentals backing her vocals are often big and grand and symphonic, filled with piano and violin. That’s enough to get me to listen. And to top it all off, the collabs she has on this album are so fitting for each track, it’s absolutely beautiful.

Highlights — Start, Cyan, Ode To Myself, Woman, Flux, Overture, Slow Grenade, Hate Me

Beneath Your Waves by Sleepy Fish

Explanation — If there’s one kind of music that shuts off the little anxiety bug in my brain and gets me to work, one that isn’t as intense as orchestral music and that doesn’t put me into sensory overload like orchestral sometimes does, it’s lofi. And Sleepy Fish does it so freakin’ well. This album that came out this year is one of my most often repeated over and over. When I’m struggling with sensory issues at work, I put this one repeat and my mind just...goes...quiet. It’s like medicine. And the tunes are so catchy and sweet. I’m instantly transported to someplace magical, some seaside city straight out of a Ghibli film, and far away from the things that are troubling me. Then I can finally get some work done, get to sleep, or just quiet my mind. If you struggle with sensory issues or anxiety like I do, give this album a shot. Also, the album titled My Room Becomes The Sea from 2019 is excellent.

Highlights — Velocities, Sunbreak, Swimming, Nights Like These, Winter Winter

WOOPS! by Woodz

Explanation — Another mini album that is just a blast to listen to, but it also has such a soft side that hits me in the feels. I don’t see a lot of people talking about Woodz, but you all should give him a listen. He’s so talented, and his voice on this one is just *chef’s kiss* everything. The mixing is also impeccable and pairs so well with his vocals.

Highlights — Bump Bump, On my own, Sweater, Tide

D-2 by Agust D

Explanation — I mean, we all knew this one was gonna be dope. Yoongi did not disappoint. This mixtape is so different from most of the stuff I listen to, but I absolutely adored it. The truth and rhythm and pure talent in each and every verse stuns me still. I find myself especially drawn to this one when I’m frustrated (not exclusively, but often, ‘cause 2020.) Both his truth and sound give me a safe place to feel that frustration and anxiety and vent/work through it. I don’t know what it is about Yoongi, but to me, all of his work is like a comforting friend going, “Hey, you’re totally valid and okay for feeling this way...but it sucks, doesn’t it?”

Highlights — Daechwita, People, Dear my friend

Now, I’ll tag these lovely people! Only if you wanna :)

@kooala @cultleaderyoongi @yoontopia @hobicomeholla29 @helenazbmrskai @moon-write @dreamcatcherjiah @ditttiii

#tag #tagged #mutuals #get to know me

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justjessame · 4 years

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The Deal Chapter 34

I was locked in the bathroom, where I’d retreated and redressed, when Negan finally had enough of my shit. I heard the lock tumblers roll and then he had the door open and was looming in the frame. Damn it. Why was he so adamant that I NOT lock the damn door if he had a fucking way to unlock it?

“Are you through with your tantrum, Jessi?” His eyes were flashing, but he didn’t sound pissed. Weird.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What if I’d been naked in here? What if I’d been using the facilities?” I glanced at the toilet. “What if I’d been in the shower? What if-”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” He huffed out a breath. “It ain’t like I haven’t seen what you’re packing, sweetheart. You’ve met my fucking wives.”

“Yeah, I like to think that we women aren’t ALL THE FUCKING SAME!” I glared at him. “And speaking of ‘dramatic’, what’s the point of telling me not to lock the fucking door if you could just fucking get in anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking easier to get in, if I don’t have to fucking pick the damn thing.” He gestured for me to get my ass out of the bathroom. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

I brushed past him and grabbed my boots. Once I was ready, he tossed on his jacket and grabbed his best friend, the bat, and whistling led the way outside. The shit we had to do, apparently was oversee the supplies coming in on trucks.

I’m standing beside Negan, fulfilling my duty as his shadow when I hear the shot ring out. Gunfire? Looking up and keeping pace with Negan, we find my little brother holding a machine gun and demanding Negan’s head. Well, I didn’t see that coming.

Carl killed two Saviors before D tackled him. I’d stood by Negan, his shadow. I could have sworn that I felt a bullet ripple the air next to my head. Did my brother nearly kill me in his quest to take out Negan? I’d felt pretty damn lucky when the target himself used a Savior as a human shield instead of me, but to die at the hands of Carl, well that would have just been pretty much keeping with my life so far.

Did I hear Negan right? Did he say Carl was ‘adorable’? I was going to end up dead. Definitely dead simply because I seem to surround myself with men who find the violence we’d been forced to learn to treat as a normal part of life"cute" or "fun". And then, Carl was given the grand tour, with me Negan's shadow along for the ride.

I should have been bored, or irritated, but I hadn’t really been there when he’d given me my own. I could have done without watching him play king on high on the catwalk addressing his subjects. Seriously, I could live to be a thousand years old and pray that the image is erased from my memory by some magical means and not miss it. Fresh veggies for everyone, without points deduction. Negan doesn’t want his people to get scurvy. Let us all give praise, “Amen.”

Respect. He thinks that the people cheering because he’s granted them free carrots is respect. Yeah, I'm pretty confident that I’ll be regaining full access to the lovely nothingness of my inner sanctum.

We end up back with the harem. They look like dolls, which I hadn't noticed before. Dressed almost the same, just sitting there waiting to serve their master. I gag internally. Carl looks pretty interested. Great. Wonderful. Now that I’m paying attention, I notice one of the wives takes Negan aside, Sherry the one who'd introduced herself to me. And then I watch him approach another one, and give her a talking to for, wait, she cheated on him? Jesus, am I in Melrose Place?

And then I watch as the wife that stepped out on him assures her 'husband', that she loves him. OK then. This isn’t fucking surreal at all. Then he basically makes out with Sherry. Did I trade my life to watch soap operas play out constantly? Please God don’t let it descend into porn. Why couldn't he just have put me out of my fucking misery?

Negan leads the way into his bedroom. And he glances at me to be sure I’m right on his fucking heels. Of course I am, I think, did you assume I’d stay with your concubines and mingle?

Negan sits and gestures for Carl to take my seat. Well, the seat I’m usually grilled in. I go to take the chair next to my brother, but Negan stops me and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. Really? I have to slip past his legs and share personal space to get to the open spot. Too close for me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but he takes my hips in hand and shifts me over, forcing me to glance down at him and his casual touch. Ugh.

I sit and wait to see what punishment Carl is going to get for the deaths of two of Negan’s men. Wasn’t that what had caused Abraham’s death? My dad and the others killing his men? I wish for the numbness, because right now I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll have to watch something horrible happen to Carl.

Negan orders my baby brother to remove Dad’s hat, and the bandage that covers the horrible crater that Ron had created with that damn bullet. I watch as Carl tries to argue against it, but as I suspected, this is part of his punishment. Negan reminds him of the two men he killed, this is the price he has to pay. Carl flashes me a look, is he pleading for me to intervene? Or is he begging me not to look? He takes off Dad’s hat, and then unravels the bandage and my heart lurches. My poor baby brother. And Negan? Far from the compassion he’d shown me at first, taunts him. Telling him how disgusting it looks. And I close my eyes so I can’t see Carl’s pain or his tears.

Negan must notice that I’m taking it as hard as Carl, because I feel his fingers brush my hands clasped in my lap, and then he apologizes to my brother.

A knock comes to the door and I open my eyes. No one ever comes to Negan’s room. At least no one had since I’ve been here. It’s a rotund man whom Negan addresses as ‘Fat Joseph’. Charming, I think, fat shaming as a nickname. He was carrying the bat, which apparently has a name. Lucille. And I have to listen to the weirdest exchange over a weapon that I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Negan is speaking about this piece of barbed wire wrapped wood as though it was a woman. And again I feel pretty damn certain that with him leading me through ‘recovery’, I’ll be back to my numb self soon.

The Savior is dismissed. Negan returns to Carl. He tells him that his eye is badass and he wouldn’t cover it. That seeing my brother’s scar would make sure no one fucked with him. My eyes fall closed again, when Negan demands that Carl sing him something. Again, Carl tries to object, and again he’s overruled. When Carl starts singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ I cannot stop my tears. Dear God, another crack to what was left of my mask. I feel his fingers brush my hands again, but I keep my eyes shut.

Lori. She used to sing that song to us when we were little. And Carl held on to that memory. Even after- They’re talking about her, about what happened. I can feel my heart clench. Feel my fear ratchet up at the thought of Judith. Carl tells Negan that he’d put her down, and my throat is burning from the pain of it. The memory. Negan offers that he understands why Carl’s gonna end up a future serial killer and I bend my upper half, folding in on myself.

I feel a hand on my back. It’s huge so I know it’s Negan’s. I’m fighting a building sob, and I try to focus on the fact that he’s trying to comfort me, and not on the fact that he created the situation he has to comfort me through. I fight to regain my composure, and he tells Carl and I that the ‘iron is ready’ and we leave the suite. My arms are wrapped around myself, and I’m desperate to find it. My darkness. The comfort of nothing.

Downstairs, a man is tied to a chair with the fire of a furnace burning before him. Negan gives a speech about rules. Their importance. And I look around at the gathered people. The wives are lined up in front. D is reaching for an iron tucked into the flames, and then before it happens, understanding flows through me in a shock of horror. It’s how his face was scarred. It’s the punishment. And then it happens. The man tied to the chair, the iron, and the scent of burning flesh.

My chest is heaving as I pant for breath. I can’t seem to get any air. Why can’t I breathe? I hear the buzzing of Negan’s mocking voice. I hear a buzz mentioning forgiveness. I hear a buzz, but nothing clear. And I’m still fighting for air. Negan returns to Carl and I. I’d forgotten my little brother had seen it too. Then Negan’s hand is tilting my face up, and he’s saying something because I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear them, the words.

“Breathe, Jessi, breathe.” It’s Carl’s voice, breaking through the static. I focus on his words, and I work to calm myself. Focus on drawing air in and letting it out. Until finally, I can hear the sounds of someone mopping. Of the scraping of a chair across the concrete floor.

When I’m breathing normally, we return to Negan’s rooms. And somewhere, downstairs, my brother’s gotten his confidence back. He taunts Negan for not killing him. Or Dad. Or Daryl. And I can feel his eyes on me, silently adding me to the list. Instead of proving Carl wrong, Negan invites my baby brother to take a ride with him.

I almost believe that I’ll get to stay behind. Alone to fall to pieces or to find my way back to the numbness, but I’m not that lucky. I’m included in the invitation. We take a cargo truck. And I’m put between Negan and Carl. I have a flicker of fear that this is going to be the last ride I’ll have, that Carl’s brash action has doomed us both.

#negan x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #dark #The Walking Dead #alternate universe #mental illness

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ikesenhell · 5 years

Text

The First Thing

You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine here! NOTES: AT LAST I RETURN. I made this almost explicitly to annoy @a-shout-to-the-void. I had to make an entire playlist to write this... you know that ‘boyfriend’ by Ariana Grande actually is very helpful for this? (and ‘bitches broken hearts’ by Billie Eilish, who knew) ---

When she started looking at him--really looking at him, investigating his features and cadence, memorizing the sound of his voice--she noticed his hands first. She never told him. If she’d asked what he wanted her to notice, she assumed Arthur would chuckle (in that delightful, infuriating, charming accent of his) and say, “Darling, aren’t there a thousand things about me you could look at?”

Famous author he was. ‘Pain in the ass’ could be added to that list.

His mouth was a liar and she wished it would shut up more often (the man wrote Sherlock Holmes and couldn’t catch a clue, apparently; his motor-mouth flirtations drove her insane). His eyes went along with the facade. What a liar the body could be!

But his hands? They were the crack in his armor. She learned the way he curled his fingers slow around mugs when he was thinking, curled playfully in teacup handles, rapped annoyance against his pockets. When nothing else in his flirtations gave him away, that did.

(As much as it was the chink in his mask, it was hers, too. It was the first thing she’d liked about him. His hands made her think he might even be tolerable.)

The second thing she liked was his idiosyncrasies. She wasn’t too given to sweets--she’d always preferred savory things--but the day she rapped on his door to deliver a fresh mug of coffee and a block of fudge, he was too distracted to disguise them.

“Set it down there,” he gestured, not rising from his typewriter (a horrific, spiderweb contraption that the Comte got for him and he so obviously hadn’t adapted to). “I’ll get to it.”

She set the platter down within his arm’s reach and set about collecting the other stray mugs around his room. When she turned, he was absently breaking off hunks of fudge and dropping it into the coffee, brow furrowed, chewing on his lip, pecking away with a single finger on the keys. It was almost charming. She thought about her grandfather doing his best with his home computer, hammering out emails punctuated with ellipses between his pointer fingers.

“Has no one taught you how to type on that?” She asked.

Arthur blinked owlishly over his frames at her. “Is there a certain way?”

Did Arthur Conan Doyle write by hand? She cast the thought from her mind and instead savored that he’d addressed her like a human being and not a snack conveniently wrapped in a skirt, that out of his vest and with his shirt slightly unbuttoned and the sweet abomination of chocolates in his coffee, he was almost lovable. She placed the last dirty mug on her tray and balanced it against her hip. “There is. There’s a hand placement that makes it easier. After that, it’s just practice.” A beat. “It’s sort of like playing the piano. Have you played?”

“No. I play violin.”

She almost asked, ‘like Sherlock Holmes?’ and thought better of it. “Well, I suppose it could be a little like that. Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you.” Arthur cast her a smile--a wonderful, ordinary smile. “I don’t suppose you’d teach this old chap how to type sometime?”

“I suppose I could do that, if Sebastian doesn’t need me at some point.”

Arthur’s eyes crinkled. “Well, do let me know.”

When she left the room, he was back to pecking away at the keyboard. She cast one glance back--he was slurping down the sludge of chocolate and sugar and coffee--and wondered if the warmth in her chest was something she ought to worry about.

---

The third thing she liked was his puppy. Vic was adorable; watching them cuddle and romp on the lawn behind the mansion warmed her heart. The spaniel bounded after her skirts as she hung the wash, rolled on her shoes and looked longingly up at her.

“Hey baby!” His head was silky under her fingers; obviously, he was cared for. Arthur, panting, caught up a few moments later.

“My apologies, my dear.” He played at an approximation of Napoleon’s bow, but too loose and formless, smiling all the while. It was so boyish and delightful that she smiled despite herself, heart surging. “It seems he’s gotten away from me. I’ll get him out from under you.”

“It’s no problem. I love dogs.” She scratched under the puppy’s chin, watching the tail wriggle on the grass. “I had one, actually. Her name was Neo, short for Neopolitan.”

“Neopolitan! What a divine name.” Arthur dove over Vic, nuzzling the spaniel. “Almost as regal as you, baby boy!”

She grinned and flapped out another shirt (one of Arthur’s, incidentally), pinning it to the line. “You’re not getting blood on your shirts anymore.”

“Am I not?” He shrugged, as if it were nothing at all. “Interesting. Vic! Want to play fetch?”

Vic yelped happily, darting away once more, and as Arthur cursed and scrambled to his knees after, she found herself watching as he ran.

---

Seasons turned, and so did they. As gradual as the waning months from summer’s height into the shimmering twilight of fall, everything changed.

“You know, my dear,” he said one night, hunched over the typewriter he still had not mastered (but he was using all of his fingers now at her instruction, which she considered a win), “I’m rather fond of you.”

“You’re fond of all women,” she replied easily, fixing his hand placement on the left. “You hit the ‘enter’ key with your little finger. Trying to use your ring finger like that is causing you problems.”

He wasn’t looking at the keys anymore. Those blue eyes were trained on her, mouth set in a long frown. “I’m serious.”

Was he? She faltered, uncertain of where to turn. Arthur showing vulnerability was almost impossible to comprehend. Was this a ploy? Was this how he lured so many women into his arms? Was this why his shirts were so often flecked with stranger’s blood? Come to think of it, that hadn’t happened in a while.

“I…” She trailed off. “I don’t know what you mean by that. I guess I’m getting close to everyone.”

His correction was as swift as sharp. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Have you seen blood on my shirts recently? I’m not out looking for any old skirt to bring home.” He peered intently at her, waiting for a reaction. She stood stone-faced.

(Because what if he was just saying that? What if he--with all his quirks and humor and love of animals and quick tongue and razor mind--was playing the latest caper on her? What if he truly just thought she was someone to play with? What if this was all a sick game? Her heart hurt--it hurt, it hurt, it hurt under the weight of imagining him wrapping her in those arms, with the imagined long evenings in his room reading the latest books.)

“What,” she scoffed, disbelieving, “should I give you a piece of paper to check off to ask if you ‘like’ me or ‘like like’ me?”

Arthur cocked a brow. “Would that clarify things for you?”

She turned on her heel and left, swinging the bedroom door hard behind her.

---

Damn him, he was telling the truth.

Quizzing Theo was exactly as illuminating as she’d suspected it would be. He’d noticed Arthur’s recent change--that he came home from the bars at the same time without vanishing into some side room, that he was ordering alcohol (which he never did when he was chasing a woman), that he was drinking blanc like water (and he was, she could vouch to that--he kept ordering it to his room).

“Is there a reason for all the questions, Hondje?” Those piercing eyes cut straight through her. Determined to stay them, she slid another warmed pitcher of syrup to him.

“I mixed it with butter this time,” she told him. “The way my grandmother did. You’ll probably like it like that.”

He frowned, placated for the moment, and tested it on a bite of pancake. Success; his whole face illuminated. “Not bad, Knabbeltje.”

“Glad you like it.”

Theo reached out and caught her by the wrist before she could turn away, expression serious once more. “He’s fallen for you.”

(And she wanted to say ‘Good for him’ and pretend not to care, but she remembered the way his shoulders curved over a piece of paper as he wrote with an ink pen, how he could take the tiniest pieces of information and discover everything about it, how he’d smuggled so many of the encyclopedias into his bedroom that the Comte caved and bought Arthur a shelf full of his own, how he smiled when he was really and truly enjoying himself.)

She swallowed. “How do you know?”

Theo released her and leaned back in his chair, scowling as if he’d never cared to begin with. “Pretty sure you knew that already. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here asking me all this.”

---

It was raining cats and dogs that night, and she hadn’t talked to Arthur in three days. But he was heading out with Theo to the pub, and Sebastian was nowhere to be found, so she took it upon herself to find their raincoats. By the time she returned to the hall, only Arthur was standing there.

“Where did Theo go?” She asked.

Arthur shrugged and pointed up the steps. “He forgot his wallet.”

It sounded like a lie, but it wasn’t delivered like one. Arthur’s hands remained telltale still at his wrists, picking at the buttons. She draped Theo’s coat across the rack and held out Arthur’s, helping him into the sleeves. He let her adjust his raincoat, eyes never leaving hers, not once. She just busied herself with the buttons. Then he took one step forward, gloved hands pinning hers to his chest.

"I know what game you're playing," he whispered. Was he serious? Joking? It was impossible to tell. "You're waiting to see if I’m serious or simply indulging a passing fancy."

Theo wasn't back yet. She swallowed hard. "Am I?"

"You are." A pause. He trailed his nose against the ridge of her ear and she shivered. "If I break and pick up a skirt at the bar. If I come back with blood on my vest. If I have someone else's perfume on. You don't trust me--not yet."

Her fingers, somehow, were bunched in his vest. She tried to ease up, turned her head away from him. He just followed. The slope of his mouth skated down against her neck and she wondered what it would be like for him to leave a hickey there instead. Would it burn like her heart did around him? She could smell his cologne and coffee and fudge and ink and it all spelled ‘Arthur’ in cursive letters, etched in the most primal part of her soul.

"Maybe," she hedged, breathless.

"No 'maybes', Love," he sighed against her. "But I'm a stubborn man. You'll see. I meant every word."

---

His whole body wrote love letters to her.

She knew it, too. He was so touchy when she’d first arrived at the mansion, and now--now the gulf between them was thick with the promise of all he might do. Arthur lingered around her shoulders, his hands deftly handing her pins to hang the laundry when she dropped them in the garden, appearing as if summoned when she needed something from a high shelf. It made her ache.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she fussed at him in the pantry, soft so Sebastian couldn’t hear. Arthur smiled at her over his coffee mug, finger tapping. She was right.

“Am I?” He evaded.

“You are,” she pressed.

“What, praytell, am I doing?”

(Making me want you so badly I could scream. Ghosting around me.)

“Being a fucking dick.”

Arthur’s eyes blew wide with surprise, and then he laughed so loud and genuine that Sebastian appeared around the corner and squinted. “My! That’s a turn of phrase I didn't expect.”

“You deserved it,” she announced. “I’m not taking it back.”

She still corrected his typing when she came through to fetch his coffee mugs. He was fast now. The metallic hammer of keys echoed down the hall, silencing only when she entered. Thick flakes fluttered past his windowpane, falling in sheets over the gazebo, and Arthur looked up with a paintbrush and a capful of white oil paint.

She paused. “What are you doing?”

He scowled and motioned at the page. “Typo. That’s how I know I’m old; misspelling words that I ought to know better about. I found that it’s much easier to simply paint over the word, wind it back, and retype the blasted thing on top when it dries.”

Was that how White-Out got invented? She didn't mention that and instead commented lightly, “Smart.”

Arthur shot her a wink and a smile, turning in his chair and taking his coffee with murmured thanks. “What are you doing after this?”

“Nothing, I suppose. I was thinking about doing some journaling.”

His smile vanished into nothing, fingers rolling thoughtfully along the ceramic mug. At long last, he said, “Is that pressing?”

“I guess not. Why?”

“Then stay.”

Somewhere above them, Mozart’s piano started, a sonata he’d been slaving on for months. Apparently he’d finished it; the notes glided through the ceiling, echoing against her hammering ribs. Arthur waited, silent and pensive.

She swallowed. “What happens if I stay?”

“Nothing.” A beat. “Everything. Whatever you like.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Those blue eyes roved around the room, as if hiding all the things they could invent. “If I’m perfectly honest, I was thinking of a cuddle.”

“A cuddle? Just one?” She teased, propping her tray on her hip. “You Brits have to specify.”

He chanced a grin. “Well, perhaps more than one cuddle. We could sit together on the couch, perhaps read a while. Something quiet. Would that suit you?”

Overhead, Mozart hit a sour note of frustration and fell silent once more. She inhaled sharply.

“Two conditions.”

“I’ll have them.”

“One, I have to bring Sebastian his tray back. Two, I’m bringing you some rouge. You have to drink it beforehand.”

Arthur clicked his tongue, but smiled again. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll take it.”

---

He was pacing when she returned, sleeves rolled back, a few books lying on the coffee table as if he would need to sell her on any of them. He didn't. She shut the door tight behind her and handed him the rouge (which he drank a little too quickly, fingers fumbling with the stopper as if he’d never seen the bottle before).

“Well.” He slumped into the couch, bringing his legs up with him. “I laid out some novels--”

“Great,” she replied, and settled inbetween his legs to rest on his chest. “You enjoy them.”

Arthur inhaled. His pulse thrummed wildly against her ear, the smooth plane of him comfortable and easy. “Do… do you want any of them?”

“No. I’ve been working all day. I’m alright with resting.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulder, hands cool and nervous on her skin. “I’ll admit, I didn't expect you to just go for this.”

She paused only a moment before admitting, “If I didn't just do it, I knew I was going to be too scared.”

“Too scared for…?”

“Doing what I wanted to do.”

Arthur’s hand--one of those honest, understanding hands--slid upward into her hair, easing her body upward along his. He was all high-strung sinew and bone and flesh, reassuringly solid and hypnotizing. His mouth against her forehead was a relief; against her ear, a taste; against her jaw, a promise; against her shoulder, a tease.

“Stay tonight,” he whispered in the curve of her skin. Only Arthur could make begging sound seductive. “Here, with me. Don’t make me let you go. You’ve only just arrived, I can’t possibly let you go now.”

She entwined her fingers with his (the very first thing she’d ever liked about him), relishing the ghost of his mouth against her skin, and then--oh, there he was, his lips near hers, and regardless of who leaned first she tasted him with abandon. She was more given to savory things, but when it was him, she supposed a little sugar didn't hurt. His tongue tasted of chocolate and coffee and moved so slow and smooth that when they parted, she gasped.

“Please,” he murmured, and punctuated it by sucking on her lower lip (damn writers; they always knew how to end a sentence).

“I’ll think about it,” she breathed, knowing full well the answer. “But you can try and convince me.”

#ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #The First Thing #fluff #slow burn #Ikemen Vampire #Yesha Writes

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 16

It all seemed to be a blur and through a guided tour of Washington DC you took in the sights filling up another few rolls of film until you found yourself here. Once again you were in a dress chosen by another. Gina had been the one to help you choose this dress, light blue with a belt and a low dip in the cleavage with shoulders fully covered while still being sleeveless. Your Canadian uniforms were not to be worn, none were allowed actually. Among the sea of other wounded and notable soldiers you entered the line for the White house between your vest and blazer clad group joining the other men in feeling a bit under dressed while the few females with you were dressed a bit fancier. It was meant to be casual, a garden party yet all the same everyone here felt a bit out of place all the same no matter your achievements.

First Lady Bess Wallace was there in a crème lace gown beside her daughter, Margaret, an actress your age well known also for singing as well as her work on radio and screen entertainer who was well loved by the press in a yellow lace gown. Out of everyone in the line it seemed their grins lit up more in seeing you nervously spreading yours in return to mask your true feelings. You didn’t enlist and after the brief greeting following the others you listened to the tour of the building flowing out into the gardens where eyes shifted your way and those apparently knowing why you were here began to whisper the truth. Into your hand Eddie’s folded and towards your table your group walked flashing grins to the fellow soldiers there.

“Lieutenant Laslow,” with a gesture to his missing arm he said, “Ambush on our platoon in Italy, tank took out half the square we were guarding, you?”

Victor cleared his throat, “Lieutenant Colonel Creed, shot twice, brushed it off.”

That earned an impressed tick of his brow and James was next saying, “Colonel Howlett, shot twice on Normandy Beach that I can remember, saw it through to the end.”

Eddie was looked at next and he said, “Sergeant Pear, I, don’t really remember my injuries. Made it through Normandy though, all the way to the end.”

His eyes flinched to you and you flashed him another rapid grin in his head nod, “Ma’am, my apologies, manners are still rough back stateside, first name’s Lewis. What’s yours?”

“Everyone calls me Bunny Pear.”

He nodded and a smirk ghosted across his lips, “Are you enjoying the party so far? Bet you haven’t seen this many G.I’s in one place.”

“Not since I was awarded the Medal of Valor by King George in London back in September.”

“Pardon me?”

Grinning at him again you replied, “I was discharged as a Corporal Medic in the Canadian Armed Forces.”

His lips parted, “Medic?” You nodded, “How’d you get the medal?”

“I was shot three times, lasted four years, not a bad ratio for how often we were shot at.”

James nodded, “True.”

“How could they let you serve as a Medic?!”

Eddie said, “Our base was attacked first night out. Not much time to argue.”

Lt Laslow asked, “Did you at least complete your ammunitions training?”

“What is it about me wearing a dress that men automatically assume I’m a waste of resources?” You asked glancing at Eddie.

Eddie, “I think it’s the heels.”

Lt Laslow, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to insult you, it’s just, you don’t look old enough to serve. I got two girls at home myself, barely 9.”

“I was a ward of the Hospital and 16 when it was attacked. I’m 21 in July.”

Lowly he repeated, “16..” Up on his right a woman in a floral dress and two young girls showed up causing him and the other men to stand, “Everything good?”

The woman nodded, “Yes, the girls were fascinated with the soaps they had out for us.”

Lt Laslow chuckled and turned saying, “This is my wife, Christine, and our girls Moira and Marien.” Looking you over he named you all, “Lt Colonel Creed, Colonel Howlett, Sgt Pear and Corporal Bunny Pear.”

The girls giggled repeating, “Bunny?”

You nodded with a grin, “When I was little kids used to call me Jack Rabbit to make fun of my name so my mom started to call me Bunny. They stopped.”

Christine looked you over asking, “You are an Officer?”

You nodded, “Yes, I am.”

“I have to ask, if you’re Canadian forces why are you here? I thought it was just our boys.”

His wife patted his arm and Eddie said, “We were born in New York, Bunny and I. Dual citizenship.” A nod came from him and the girls dipped into an adorable round of questions through the tea and snacks being served out until the President came out.

From the moment of being spotted by those around you everyone joined in on the ripple of soldiers standing and greeting him. “Mr President” flowed from table to table he passed returning nods from him to each greeting them in return asking how those there were, hearing, “Very well, Mr President” in return. At your table he paused however saying with a grin, “I am glad you could make it Miss Pear. Mr Pear. Just a few moments.”

You nodded flashing him a grin, “Of course, Mr President.”

Looking to the confused family across from you he said, “Are you doing well today? Glad you could join us too Lt Larkin.”

“Yes, Mr President. Honored to be here today Sir.”

Watching him stroll to the table up front with boxes instantly making your heart skip. “I do apologize for my tardiness.” He said as you all sat down again, “However there seems to be so much to do this weekend for some reason. To cut to the chase we are all here to celebrate and pay our respects to men, and women go have fought honorably in defense of our country.”

One by one each table was called up with medals of distinction and honor being issued out with photographs being taken with them and their families. With yours last you watched him claim a pair of boxes he brought over and around your necks the medals were hung, yours feeling so heavy and parting your lips and those around you noticing you were given the Medal of Honor over Eddie, who didn’t mind at all preferring you getting the higher honor.

“Mr Pear, for your courage and distinction in the line of duty continuing on through several injuries and aiding in bringing down several enemy planes, trucks and tanks disabling them from further use on behalf of the United States of America we thank you and offer you this medal in gratitude.”

“Thank you, Mr President.” It wasn’t believable to many that you had been behind that but with his mechanical background he was the clearer candidate for the credit. But he would hold off on correcting him for now, at least publicly.

But Truman stepped to you lifting the Medal. “Miss Pear, how can I list all of your achievements? To have been 16 and face an attack your first night forcing you into combat with your brother is reason enough for a show of respect. But to have earned your Medic patch and the rank of Corporal is astounding. I have thanked your brother in bringing down enemy vehicles but I am aware you had aided in that feat as well. All of the other women here faced those returning to their hospitals noting the effects of the war while you aided our boys in defending our territories and advancements while patching them up. I have a distinct recollection of an encounter you had with your troop crossing paths with one of our Captains from Texas who I met just yesterday stating you disabled three German trucks and helped to bring down four planes before taking a shot from one of the captured passengers inside. Three times you were wounded in duty and refused to head home until the battles were through. On behalf of the United States of America we thank you, and offer you this medal as a sign of gratitude.”

“Thank you, Mr President.”

He shook his head, “No, thank you. You are the only woman in service to have received this medal and the only woman recorded to have made officer. You have faced terrible times and battles to get here and I am honored to have met you, and deeply saddened to have heard that you lost your brother Steve along the way.”

Another box was brought over and your heart clenched as you accepted it after he had opened it resting it onto your palm, “A Purple Heart. To honor his sacrifice.”

With a timid nod you held a semi calm tone, “Thank you, Mr President.”

A picture later and you were off to mingling keeping hold of the Medal uncertain of why you were on the verge of tears exactly. Victory Ribbons were added to your collection along with Good Conduct Medals. You didn’t need more but between your Medal of Valor and these from Truman you had gained several extra medals you had been awarded once the full reel of your so called accomplishments had been listed in full. None of it seemed to fit right though, the smiles and the clapping and gratitude for your service. Still lowly into your ear Victor rumbled, “Let the people feel big by pinning a medal on you for doing what they would have failed at.” Turning your head you caught his eye and his subtle grin and wink, “It’s just metal and ribbons, we won the battle, let them hand out their prizes and name their heroes. We’ll be home soon and off their pedestal.”

Home was coming, back to freedom and only loving pictures captured from Victor in your casual days instead of these forced poses. Against their sides you stood never feeling a lack of a hand on your side of hand, each sensing you were feeling another build of pressure at being flaunted. By the time you got back to the hotel your ears were ringing at the laughs and smiles of the men and women upon hearing the basics of a comic someone here had seen. Somehow you held your composure all through the rest of the day and the ride to the hotel through more and more pictures reminding you of muzzle flashes. Eyes closed in the elevator you turned to lean into James’ chest at his pulling you close for a hug, Eddie stood by the wall with Victor distracting him with some limerick seeing he was trembling as well.

Warm kisses peppered across your forehead while he held you close ignoring the stolen glances of the hotel elevator operator, who took the medal cases poking out of your bag as the reason for the troubled reaction. It was hard, trying to come to terms with all of this, how it could be medal worthy, what you had done, all the people you had killed. Along with the great big lie and secret you had to hide. It was innocent, a question of how you made Corporal, yet again you were seated against that wall with hot metal tearing through your shoulder after bringing down those planes. Half truths of how you had brought them down, magnets formed from scraps affecting their engines, a thrown dagger instead of a rifle contorting to tear through the shooter’s arm. It still hurt and for a moment it was hard to leave that flicker in time and still not feel that panic when you pulled back to the present again.

You wanted so badly to just go home. But there would be a dinner the following night and from the First Lady herself you heard you were to join in on the party and get a couple more tours before being able to head home again. It seemed the press had picked up about you and here like in London you were to be paraded around a bit longer. Tenderly you were helped into your pajamas and across the bed you listened to the radio station Victor had chosen, all together chatting to calm again waiting for the dinner to be brought up to your suite.

The dress arrived along with the meal, shoes and gloves as well. Off the shoulder sleeves with a tight sparkling navy blue top with accented flowers around the dip feeding into a fold of fabric reaching the layered poofy skirt in the same material with a sheer panel on the back holding the buttons down the top of your back. Matching gloves and shoes sat by them along with diamond earrings, three dangling stones ended with a sapphire each. Tuxes were brought for the men along with shoes and cufflinks.

It was going to be lavish and together you taped up your egos forcing out your best grins trying not to count down the hours until you were back to collect your things and ride the rails to Canada again.

It should have been dreadful but with several great musicians there to supply the music post opening speeches you took to the floor stealing glances up at the trombone player. The action making James purr by your ear, “Should I be jealous? You keep staring up at the stage.”

Weakly you forced out a chuckle, “I think that trombone player, I’ve seen him. I think he’s one of Steve’s favorites. Got enlisted before he could see him play.”

James nodded, “Ah, you could ask for a picture you know.”

“I know.” You said thinking back to the camera in your bag you had been carrying around looking for something worth taking up Steve’s last shot on the roll.

All the same a lull was found and with grins the musicians, fully aware of who you were grouped together expecting a song request only to fix their spots to all be in the picture you thanked the men for. From the piano player a page was torn from his music lined notepad he passed around for all the men to sign and hand over to you widening their smiles in your ample thanks to them. Though the moment of your picture by morning would be splattered all over newspapers and burned into magazines talking about the evening and returned soldiers being honored, copies of which the Brocks would send to you back in Canada.

For all his faults Steve was still your brother and you still felt that pull to try and be there for him when you could. A silent tear would roll down your cheek thinking of how hard Steve must have worked for the pocket change he had left you and how he would have been happy to get back to art school to get better pay as some artist in the few outlets available at the moment. Like a glove the warm green lands molded around you again and cuddled up to James’ side you rode the way home only to end up driving back with Victor when Eddie and James got called to help with some town celebration they were prepping. One firm kiss came in Victor’s hop down and climb into the cab finding the book jammed under the seat to keep you from sliding back.

“You alright?” The question had you glancing his way and you gave a nod, “What’s rolling around up there? You seem a bit blue.”

“Can’t help but think of what Steve would be doing if he made it.”

“Ah,”

“He used to draw in the park and sell comics to the papers to pay for us. Left art school to enlist. He was actually really good, could have been great.”

Victor slid over easing his arm behind your back to kiss your forehead, sighing out, “Brothers. Can’t live with ‘em half the time, even if you hate ‘em you still love ‘em, deep down somewhere.”

“Does it take long to develop pictures?”

You asked stealing a glance up at him and he said, “Not long. Once we get home I’ll help you see what Stevie boy captured with that camera of his.”

Leaving the bags by the door he watched you pull out the camera and held out a hand to guide you to his darkroom. Into the room he switched on the red light and showed you how to pull out the film he then added to the enlarger once the chemicals were measured out. Altering the height and focus. He showed you how to fix the positioning and make the test strip then smirked in your grin easing wider through the developing stage following his instruction to rock the mixture gently. From there you removed the image and slid it into the stop bath you rocked again, after which it would be added to the fixer mixture you would rock as well. A wash came next before he hung up the image you both looked over seeing the image of your group photo making you nip at your lip hoping Steve would have liked it.

Vince grinned saying, “One down, let’s see who else we got here.” Guiding you back to step one through the process again and again expanding the collection a puffy cheeked sax player behind him and Bucky as young teens was next followed by three more like it. Until you paused seeing a picture of you reading a book in the window, just a silhouette of the book on your lap and finger skimming across the page with hair covering almost all but your legs. “Huh,”

“Why would he take a picture of me?”

Victor hugged you kissing the side of your forehead, “It is a moment. Something struck him about it.”

“I remember that book. I’d read the rest, but I read one of her nursing manuals.” Turning back to the others you were confused seeing just another picture of him and Bucky in front of the theater with the film title cut out that they both were pointing to.

An image of a Christmas party you had attended was next, the year your mom had died, you weren’t in this image but the next one, in the dark office seated on the desk reading a book by a lamp where you had spent the night. With your fingers floating in the air just shy of your lips signaling the drop of it to turn the page in moments. A moment you weren’t coated in one of your sweaters showing off the silk dress one of Bucky’s sisters and mother had picked out for you, enough to silence the required color but far less appealing than they would have chosen for themselves. That was next to the end with five more pictures from more shows ending with the first picture taken, your mom holding the bow from the camera he had unwrapped on a random gift out of nowhere.

“I can see where you get it from.”

You glanced up at him and hugged him around his chest, “It never stops hurting does it?”

Around your back his arms looped, “Eventually, you wear the pain like a brilliant pair of shoes. It pinches and you get used to the dull throb, but you get these crystal clear moments where you forget that it hurts. And someone mentions your shoes, and it still doesn’t hurt, but every now and then, you feel a pinch again when someone scuffs them.”

“Maybe we could etch that into a plaque or something,”

Lowly he chuckled saying, “Don’t tempt me, I’ll stitch it into a pillow for you.” Making you giggle to yourself, “Come on, let’s get you changed and unpacked. Catch some fish for dinner.”

Across the counter you leaned with chin propped on your fist on the arm resting up, your body fully supported by your elbow. Foot rocking behind you as a finger on your free hand turned the page in the latest bridal magazine the girls had been leaving out after removing all other reading materials including town papers. Men were lost for their usual printed distractions also left to browsing the glossy pages due to their plotting. Still there was no ring on your finger but it was only a couple weeks since James had confirmed he would propose. From the other end of the room Dot and her cousin smirked seeing your head tilt in contemplation at the dress on the page. The lingering pause luring them closer to see you rotate the magazine so they could see the dress, ruffled skirt with a corseted top with off the shoulder sheer sleeves, one like princesses wear often in books and films.

At their arrival you asked, “Too much?”

Together they looked it over and said, “It’s perfect.”

Dot said, “Real showstopper.”

Looking it over again you said, “I think James would like it.”

Her cousin said, “Honey, he would marry you in a sack and you know it.”

“The others are nice but I don’t think I’d want silk. I do like the ruffles, and James does like how I look in a corseted gown.”

Dot said, “You have a stunning figure. The sleeves are a nice touch.”

“My mom had lace sleeves on hers.”

Dot’s cousin, “You can’t wear hers?”

“Oh, she sold it, when Steve was a kid, said they wanted it for a play, I think. Called for twenty gowns. Got five bucks for it I think.”

They both said, “Oh,” with deflating grins.

You shook your head saying, “It’s alright, wasn’t really my style. Lace shrug with a silk dress coated in strings of beads. Eddie’s aunt said it used to make the most strange noises any time she moved. Would have driven me crazy.” Making the pair giggle at your rolled eyes. Turning a few pages back you said, “I was thinking something like this for bridesmaids.”

Dot’s head tilted sideways at the sequined dress with a sheer back slit in the middle accented by face crystals around the neckline, “But that’s a wedding dress.”

“Well I read into the history of weddings bridesmaids wore wedding gowns as well, veils too so if any demons came in the ceremony they couldn’t be able to find the bride, same as the groomsmen.”

Dot’s cousin smirked at you, “I think it’s lovely. Any clue on who you want for bridesmaids?”

The question leading you with a hopeful tone making you roll your eyes, “That depends on how many guys James can round up. I know I would be expected to at least ask Eddie’s sisters.”

Dot, “Who would give you away?”

“Eddie’s pop most likely, if he can make it. I’m not certain if he can leave New York.”

They asked, “He would have to miss it?”

Softly you giggled saying in a whisper, “Between you and me he’s got a history with the law,” making them giggle, “But who knows, maybe he’ll sneak in inside a trunk or something.” Spreading their grins.

Dot, “I think it’s beautiful. We can all help, pick the flowers and set it all up, including the church, which has a lovely barn next to it for events we could set up just swell for you.”

“You don’t have to go to that much trouble.”

They both scoffed and her cousin said, “Honey, we do this for every couple. It’s sort of a welcome from town, our blessing of sorts. All of us pitching together to spare you all the trouble.”

At the misty eyed grin you gave them their hands laid on yours resting on the counter and Dot said, “We love you. And even if you spend years in the States at a hundred different schools we love you and can’t wait to help you through this. You might not have been here that long but you’re family now, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

At the truck arriving Dot tore the pictures you chose out of the magazine and folded them to go and slip into your purse she passed to you in your move to gather your tips. You would be here just a couple months until summer would hit and you would be off back to New York for who knows how long to get your degrees. But the thought of having such a nice sendoff from your friends here who just wanted your happiness.

Home again would come with fishing and a hike while Victor insisted on handling dinner to calm down from an argument the brothers seemed to be in the middle of shunning each other afterwards. Usually it would die down after a day or so but confused in the middle of a two day stand off you spent your morning off lounging across the couch while Victor was off collecting wood with Eddie.

Tucked against James’ side your finger tapped his chest and he tried not to smirk knowing you were going to ask again what you had been hinting towards since the evening prior. “About Victor.”

Flatly he replied, “I am not talking to Victor. He could walk off the roof all I care.”

Softly you sighed and asked, “You won’t even tell me what happened?”

“Nope.” In your droop across his chest his smile inched out again knowing your brothers were off perfecting his surprise for you that the trio couldn’t think of a better way to distract you from than by having a blowout fight excusing why you weren’t all together as you usually were. An easy distraction involving little fibbing to keep facts straight on they could easily manage ample time for your privacy and theirs to ensure everything was perfect for you.

Tilting your head up your lips pressed to his jaw and he smirked at your asking, “Not even if I ask nicely?”

“I don’t believe this. Are you trying to control me with physical advances?”

Lifting up you hovered over him leaving a kiss on the top of his nose, “Depends, is it working?”

In a purr he closed the distance answering, “I’ll keep you posted.” Planting his lips on yours is what would end in his carrying you upstairs to keep you distracted while the pair returned to gather more supplies signaling with a special bird call moments prior.

Warm peppered kisses would linger through the morning until a late afternoon when a believably tense dinner would end in a huff from you making the pair both scoff and trade heartless apologies and promises to be in better moods by breakfast. Lowly however Victor said, “Don’t forget the shower tonight Jimmy.”

Flatly his brother replied in your glance between them, “I won’t. You coming?”

Victor shook his head, “Nah, seen enough of the trees for a day.” You glanced between the pair and Victor smirked at you, “Don’t you worry Pipsqueak, we’re not quarreling. You will enjoy it and you can tell me all about it in the morning.”

“Fine. But we’re doing something as a family in the morning. No grumbles.”

Eddie chuckled saying, “Oh no doubt there will be no grumbles.”

Sunset came fast and with your hand in his James led the way through the trees off into the distance stealing a glance back at you still in your blue dress from earlier though in manageable sneakers over heels. “Not far yet, got the perfect spot.”

Giddily he hopped over roots and over low laying logs he turned to lift you in his arms helping you over them stealing pecks on your cheeks making you wonder as to why he was so excited at guiding you to do more stargazing. All the same off into the distance he kept moving onwards, “We’re not going to miss it, are we?”

You asked in another move of his to lift you over another obstacle and he hummed back, “Not a chance. Not far now.” Adoringly his eyes locked onto yours and a hasty kiss was stolen by him and he nodded his head stepping back, “Just a bit longer.”

With another stolen glance your way his eyes eased over you taking in your every detail and he guided you around another set of trees making your eyes shift over the sprawling tree decorated by short candles filled glitter coated mason jars dangling from varying lengths of strands of string. Sweetly with a hand on your side James guided you a few steps to your right making you lift a hand to curl your fingers in front of your lips at the design of lit up hearts surrounding the picnic area under the tree. Walking closer you stepped onto the blanket at James’ side staring up at the branches above with paper stars dangling randomly throughout and you asked, “How are we supposed to see the stars from here?”

Turning your head James wasn’t there making you lower your gaze when James shifted your hand he was still holding to kiss the back of it. “Darling, I am utterly dreadful with this. I love you, more than I could ever say. We don’t need the stars tonight, we can do our own dancing.”

Anxiously a giggle escaped you and you asked, “You brought me out here to dance?”

“Among other things,” his free hand rose with a ring between his finger and thumb, “But you’re a bit under dressed.”

“It seems I am.” Your eyes fixed on his and never left partially ignorant of the ring he eased onto your left ring finger then promptly stood up lifting you in his arms claiming a warm kiss as he did.

Whistles sounded and claps afterwards ending the kiss turning your head to Victor snapping pictures hoping the lighting was enough to capture the moment in more than an oddly colorless blob beside Eddie who was clapping. “Bout time!”

Still staring at you James grinned wider folding his fingers a bit firmer along your ribs never wishing to let go of you again while your fingers traced lines into his upper back with subtle strokes of your other fingers against the diamond coated band on your purple heart shaped stone bearing engagement ring. Down you looked again locking eyes with your awed fiancé deepening his loving grin and gaze as you asked, “When did you manage to do all this?”

Lowly he hummed through a barely there chuckle, “I didn’t.”

“You lied to me.” You said to Victor who chuckled moving closer to you. “All of you.”

Victor chuckled in James’ setting you down and replied, “Well we had to come up with some believable excuse to keep you busy while we got all this right.” Instantly your grin split wider in his move to come closer claiming a tight hug and peck on the forehead from your future brother in law with Eddie right after him. “Had to be perfect for you.”

Eddie’s second hug came after a congratulatory pat on the back for him to deepen the awed grin on the man’s face who kept his eyes trailed on you in your moment of distraction from him, an expression Victor captured in another picture followed by another for when you peered up at him again. “Well you hit perfect on the head.”

Eddie said, “And perfect comes with snacks, come eat.” He said guiding you both over to the blanket on which you all settled, you against James’ side granting him a chance to do something other than simply stare at you. Stolen trails of his nose against your cheek came between gentle peppered kisses while your hands folded on your lap allowing you a stolen brush of your thumb against the stone making Victor smirk.

Leaning over in Eddie’s pulling out the snacks Victor grabbed a spare candle he brought closer turning your head from glancing at James to the candle at his saying, “Go on, take a gander.”

From him to the ring on your hand lit up your eyes dropped and a smile ghosted across your lips. “You picked a heart?”

James purred by your ear, “I hoped you might like it.”

“It’s so beautiful, purple too, must have cost a fortune.”

James shook his head, “My father bought it for my mother.”

Softly you asked, “Really?”

He nodded, “It wasn’t to her taste, refused to wear it, too dark,” his grin deepened with a hint of a blush, “And the cut was absurd apparently. You do like it?”

Closing the distance you kissed him warmly then hummed in a bump of your nose to his, “I love it. Thank you. Certainly won’t see another like it wandering down the street.”

Victor chuckled, “Certainly not.”

Eddie, “Bona fide antique, got to be quality not seen in ages.”

James smirked at him, “You wouldn’t be wrong. Stone’s one of a kind and it’s purer white gold than they sell nowadays.” Contently you melted against his chest treasuring the moments of being held in his arms. True nothing really had changed, it was nowhere near to a surprise to be engaged right now, to some it was just a ring but for you all it was a solid reminder that the family you had formed was becoming more solid by the day. Very soon legally impossible to divide or refute by others.

Pt 17

@changelingkhat, @alishlieb

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Venom #Eddie Brock #Proposal #Wedding Plans

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nancypullen · 4 years

Text

Kilt-y as Charged

My family has always been able to trace my mother’s lineage to Denmark and Germany as far back as the 1400′s. It wasn’t hard, my great-grandmother Emelia arrived in New York harbor on the passenger ship Washington in 1873, fresh from Denmark with her mother and siblings. They proceeded from there out to the Nebraska plains where her father, Christen Rasmussen had already started plowing and creating a homestead. She married into the Link family, and all you have to do is google John Jacob Link to find the long and interesting story of my ancestors in Germany. Though the Links of Grossgartach, Germany did quite well, John Jacob (Hans Jacob Linckh) crossed oceans at the ripe old age of 50 because he’d decided he was tired of almost constant warfare, taxes that were only used to fill palaces, and the never-ending battle between Catholics and protestants. At least that’s how the story goes. The Rasmussens and Links prospered in America (google Dr. Harvey Link of Nebraska, physician, innovator, and state representative - that’s my great-great-grandfather) and eventually a Link married a Holtz (another German) and my mother was born. We have my Danish and German side all wrapped up. Recently sheer boredom drove me to try and untangle the mystery of my paternal line. It’s not that there were secrets, it’s just that my maiden name is McGlaughn and when trying to track documents that include land deeds, immigration records, death certificates, etc I’ve found some very creative spellings of the name. I descend from McGlaughon, McGlaun, McGlon, McGlauhon, and I even found a record where it was spelled Meglehon. These are all children from the same parents, check out the various spellings of the last name.

That’s what I’ve been up against. BUT...and you knew there was a but..I did it! By working backwards and only adding a name to the tree once I’d verified the correct dates, places, relatives, and so on, I found the first McGlaughn relative to step foot in America. His name was Jeremiah McGlaughon, born in Scotland in 1695 to John McGlaughon and his wife, Jane O’Cane. I haven’t yet found the year that he arrived in America, but he died in 1740 in Bertie County, North Carolina leaving behind land, cattle, hogs, sheep, horses, and a family whose records pop up from Valley Forge to the present. I found a handful of Revolutionary War soldiers, and as many from the wrong side of the Civil War. Here’s an inventory of Jeremiah’s spread in 1740, pretty sure this was for his will.

I know you can’t see much from this photo. When I was reading it I had to zoom in and go line by line. Can we just appreciate the beautiful handwriting? What a lost art. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see books listed in his inventory.

Anywho, after digging and digging and a long conversation with my sister googling on the other end - I’m pretty sure that Jeremiah came from Lanarkshire, Scotland. I think his wife, Jane Howell (married in Bertie,NC) came from Wiltshire, England. I haven’t verified this yet, but I *think* this is her baptismal record from 1700.

We’re so fortunate that millions of documents have been scanned and uploaded so that people can search archives from all over the world. I have found draft cards, land deeds, wills, marriage licenses, and immigration records. It will probably take months to wade through everything and assign each document to the right person, but I love solving puzzles. Look at these gems.

Here’s the record of Caroline Rasmussen arriving in America with her children in tow.

Caroline - age 33 - woman Hans - male child -11 Rasmus -male child- 6 Anine - female child - age 9 Mathilde -female child- age 4 (That’s my great-grandmother, Mathilde Emilia!) Laurentina - female child - 11 months Can you even imagine? A young mother and five children, one of them not yet a year old, leaving everything familiar and crossing the ocean? It looks like she traveled with other Rasmussen relatives, so that had to be a comfort. I was really excited when I uncovered the baptismal record for Caroline and then the record of her marriage to Christen. Then I remembered that I don’t read Danish.

Oops. You can still get helpful info - when I found Christen Rasmussen’s confirmation in church records it provided his birthplace. I’m sure we already have that tidbit filed away somewhere, but if you’re just beginning a search those are the tasty clues that move you forward.

I won’t bore you with more details of a family that you don’t know or care about. Besides, I have to get back to my search and keep fleshing out my McGlaughn/McGlaughon/McGlaun/McGlon/McGlahon/Meglohon line. So far I know that: John McGlaughon & Jane O’Cane of Lanarkshire,Scotland begat Jeremiah and his brothers Malachi and James. Jeremiah McGlaughon & Jane Howell begat Edmond and siblings Edmond McGlauhon & Angelica Jane Butler begat William and siblings William McGlahon & Ann Gaskin begat Jeremiah and siblings Jeremiah McGlauhon had FOUR wives - Elizabeth Capeheart (also spelled Kapott in some records), Nancy Baker, Matilda Webb Fogerty, and Nancy Parker As you can imagine, there was a litter of kids, but my ancestor came from his union with Nancy Baker. So, Jeremiah & Nancy #1 begat James Jackson McGlaughn. James Jackson “Jack” McGlaughn married Mary Loretta Eady who is listed as “Cherokee Indian”. They had a few kids and because life was harder on women back then, Mary died. Jack then married Nancy Jane Noble, and together they made my great-grandfather John Pinkston McGlaughn. John Pinkston McGlaughn married Lavada Sanders, had some babies, and Lavada (you guessed it) died. Along came Lela Fields Carter with her daughter Alice and married John and had a few more kids. My grandfather was from the first union with Lavada. He was a horrible, awful, disgusting, sorry excuse for a human being and his name was William Jasper McGlaughn. William Jasper McGlaughn married Jessie Bell Lett and produced six offspring, one of them was my father, John Paskle McGlaughn. He met and married an Idaho beauty, Marilyn Holtz, and all because those brave ancestors stepped onto boats and decided to give America a try, here I am. It’s both humbling and fascinating to see documents with the beautiful, swirling signatures of some of those who came before me. I don’t know all of their stories, I only have names and dates right now. But if not for them I wouldn’t be sitting in my warm, cozy home in Tennessee, searching the internet for what they left behind. My life has undoubtedly been far easier than theirs, don’t we all stand on the shoulders of our ancestors and benefit from their courage and hard work? Of course, we also sometimes have to recover from the poor decisions and cruelty of unsavory characters in our family trees. We’re all threads in a tapestry. That being said, my DNA swab continues to be refined and as it turns out, I’m exactly what family lore has said I would be. I’m a big ol’ hodge podge of European ancestors like most Americans.

Northwestern Europe - Germany and Denmark, check. Scotland and England - check. Various sprinklings for flavor - check. I’m happy like the Danish and frugal like the Scots. German stereotypes are hardworking, efficient, and disciplined. I totally missed that boat. Can’t win ‘em all. Okay, I’ll wrap this up. If you stuck it out to the end pleas reward yourself. This whole post was just me thinking out loud and making my case for a trip to Scotland. Pretty sure the motherland is calling me home.

I mean, the place is full of these adorable Highland Cows! I could bring one home as a souvenir!

I’m afraid if I go I’ll never come home, Jeremiah’s journey would all be for naught. So that’s it. I really am wrapping this up.

I swear, I’m done. Stay safe and stay well, ya wee smasher!

Done. XOXO - Nancy

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kchuarts · 4 years

Text

Flowers in Blood

A/N: I probably got Jonathan’s character completely wrong but fuck I imagine him being a softy.

Translations for Russian part -

Katie: Pardon me, my fiance and I need a lift to the Metropol

Driver: Sure thing

Katie: Thank you

Katie: Excuse me, do you speak english?

Driver: Do I look like I fucking speak english? No. Look, I’m not here to make friends, lady. I just wanna make this night go by faster.

Summary: Touch is a fickle thing

Warnings: Brief flashback of mentioned assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!)*

Chapter 3: Mimosa Pudica

“Shit, I didn’t expect this as some sort of sick welcoming to Russia.” Katie muttered under her breath, wanting to get closer but feeling Jonathan tug on her hand. “Don’t. I know that we are here for it, but we can’t lead onto suspicion in case the members of the gang are around watching.” Pine spoke lowly, eyes peeled for anyone who looked shifty enough to be listening in. Sighing in defeat, Katie agreed and followed Pine’s lead, continuing to hold his hand. The warm feeling of his skin caused the girl to blush slightly and because of how nice his hand felt, she was rather reluctant to let go. “Starting the part now?” Pine flashed a small grin, giving her hand a squeeze. “Th-That’s what you got from it?” Katie stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden point. “You haven’t let go of my hand since we left the station, darling.” He mused to himself, not upset by the fact. “Well, dear, I haven’t had a choice now have I? After all, we could have gotten at least a bit of a head start with that crime scene.” She raised her brows and narrowed her eyes slightly. “And risk ourselves the first night on the job? I admire your enthusiasm, but rookie moves like that are hardly advised.” Pine stopped for a moment, noticing that they had reached a taxi station and released Katie’s hand. The brunette scoffed, folding her arms over her chest and gave him her pout he found adorable. “Unlike you, I was practically thrown into the job from the get go. I had no training.” He looked around, cars passing by but no sign of a taxi yet. Pine pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his coat and pulled a stick out.

“Is this a pissing contest, Steven?” Katie looked at him with disgust.

“Only if you want it to be, Natasha. I didn’t have any intentions of making it one, but be my guest. I’m positive I can win with the shit I’ve seen and been through.” He rolled his eyes, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag before huffing smoke out into the cool night air.

The American woman bit her tongue, not wanting to ruin what they had just started to mend. Finally, after a few more moments standing out in the cold a taxi pulled up. The window lowered and gave Katie her chance to shine, “Простите меня, нам с женихом нужен лифт до гостиницы «Метрополь».” She spoke in a broken accent. The driver looked Katie up and down, sneering a bit at how bad her Russian sounded, “Конечно.” was all he said. Picking up on how unamused the driver appeared, the brunette woman had to hold back her mock sneer, “Спасибо.” She got in as Pine opened the door for her and then followed in short. Before Jonathan could ask what was with the driver’s attitude, Katie held a finger up. “Извините, вы говорите по-английски?” She raised a brow and the driver. A loud and incredibly unnecessary sigh came from the driver, “Нет, я выгляжу так, будто говорю по-английски? Я здесь не для того, чтобы быть вашим другом, леди. Заткнись и сядь, чтобы поездка прошла быстрее.” Katie scoffed at how rude he was. She couldn’t understand half of what he just said but assumed it was not nice. “He’s an asshole.” She looked at Jonathan and scowled at the driver in the mirror. “Oh come now, darling. Leave the poor man alone, I’m sure he has had a busy night.” Jonathan gave a fake smile to the driver and placed his arm around Katie. His action caused her to flinch hard and forced Pine to pull his arm away. Pine’s blue eyes shined in the light from outside in apology for his unannounced gesture. Katie’s expression saddened and she shifted to her side of the window, looking out of the glass.

The short ride remained uneventful with silence not being a comfort at all. Katie was glad to get out of that stuffy taxi once they reached their destination. She wasn't even excited to see the Metropol at this point as her evening had been awkward and uncomfortable. Jonathan looked around before paying the driver and thanking him, only to receive a loud honk and tire rip. "Arsehole." He mumbled, glaring at the cab driver as he took off into the night. The interior of the Metropol was gorgeous to say the least, but it seemed a bit dull with the attitudes that the agents had coming in. Their room seemed to make things more irritable as there was only one bed. "Ugh!! Of course it's only a single bed!!" Katie ran her fingers through her short brown hair and sat at the edge. Pine looked around the room in hope of finding a couch to sleep on so the brunette would be more comfortable, but sadly he was unsuccessful. "Are you worried about our sleeping arrangement?" He asked openly and his gaze softened. "If I'm gonna be honest, y-yes. I haven't shared a bed with anyone s-since… Since.." emotions began to build up into her throat and she shut her green eyes tightly.

-flash-

"GET ON THE FUCKING BED NOW, BITCH!!" Travis screamed at a frightened Katie. "No!! I don't want to have sex tonight, Travis!! I'm so damn sick of you thinking you can scare me into fucking you!! I had a long day at school and work, I just wanna sleep!" She sobbed, her hands falling to her sides. Katie tried to make a beeline for the living room as she would take the couch for the night. At this rate, anything was better than sleeping with her abusive boyfriend. She screeched as she felt him yank on her shoulder length hair. "When I fucking tell you do to something- you do it!" He threw her onto the bed and began to unbuckle his belt, before whipping her with it.

-flash-

"Katie? Hey, you're ok. You're safe." Pine knelt in front of the hysterical girl, his hands holding her own. "No one is going to hurt you, I've got you. Breathe. Slow deep breaths." He gave her hands a comforting squeeze and wondered how on earth she would make it through this mission. Katie let out another sob and allowed Jonathan to hold her hands as she felt a sort of comfort from him. She began to do as Pine said, taking deep breaths while calming down. "That's it. Just breathe alright? I'm not going to let anything happen to you. He isn't here and I'm going to protect you. Can you trust me?" He rubbed his thumbs gently on her smooth skin. Katie nodded and exhaled, "I'm sorry. I'm pathetic." She laughed sadly. "No you're not. You've been through something horrible that's only made you stronger. Would you allow me to hold your hands like this if you were not?" His voice was soft as if he was speaking to a child. Katie shook her head, "No. I'd be terrified to let you even get this close to me if I was still the same person I was a few years back." She felt his hands start to loosen their grip on her own. "Don't." Her eyes became a little wide from how loud she became at her request. Pine smiled softly at her and resumed his hold on her hands. "Would it make you more comfortable if we had a wall between us? I did try to look for a couch, but… No luck." He shrugged. The brunette's heart warmed at his consideration and she shook her head, "I think I'll be ok. I know I've been kind of mean to you, but you are different. I can't say I have ever met a man like yourself." She sniffled, returning the smile. Flattered, Jonathan gave a small chuckle and even felt his cheeks heat up. He had heard many women say this to him but the feeling he got from it never got old.

Having calmed down, Katie was of course first to claim the shower. Pine shook his head at the noises of delight from behind the bathroom door. "They've got a damn jacuzzi in here!!" He heard her shout. The door to the bathroom slid wide open and thankfully, Katie was already showered and dressed. "I didn't even notice it until now!" She chuckled, rubbing her hair with the towel before sitting on the bed. “Your turn.” Katie gave a smile to Pine and swayed her feet on the side of the bed as her feet hardly touched the ground. Noticing this, Jonathan grinned and nodded to her feet “If you need help climbing down in the morning, don’t hesitate to ask.” The towel that Katie had around her neck was promptly tossed at Pine’s direction. He caught the damp fabric in one of his large hands and chuckled at her before entering the luxurious bathroom. Angela set them up well as this was no ordinary hotel bathroom set up… They certainly got the couple suite complete with a romantic setting. For a moment, Jonathan actually pondered the notion of actually being involved with his partner but quickly shook it off. He doubted that she would appreciate such a thought let alone the progress they still had to build. Speaking of, another thought came to mind which had him wondering how in the world they were going to act tomorrow, especially if they had to dance. Katie had been gracefully lenient to be comfortable with him touching her hands, but the small of her back, waist, shoulders, neck, everything really was a different story.

“Ka- Natasha?” Pine quickly corrected himself as he walked out of the bathroom, finished up and dressed for bed. Quickly, Katie snorted from a light slumber and sat up fast “Oh shit- What’s up?” She stretched and rubbed her eyes. Pine’s phone began to ring incessantly as the both of them completely forgot to call Angela. “That’s what’s up first.” He muttered, grabbing his phone and sighing, “Hello?”

“You’re a few hours late calling me, y’know.” Angela’s mom voice was apparent.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just settled in after a bit of a tussle is all. I wasn’t expecting the job to start so soon with being witness to a crime scene.” Pine rubbed the back of his neck, pacing the room.

“A crime scene!? God save the queen those bastards are insatiable aren’t they? Well, was it them?” She sighed

“Mhm. Wolfsbane flower and everything. One of us wanted to get a closer look and perhaps ask about what went on, but I suggested that it was better to lay low on the first night.” Pine’s blue eyes darted to Katie who rolled her eyes in return.

“Smart move. Anyhow, I doubt you have too much information tonight so I’ll let you get back to whatever. I hope you two are getting along alright- Hey!! I gotta go, little one is restless, I said no cookies-” The phone hung up and Jonathan tossed it to the side. Katie quirked a brow up at Jonathan, “I’m guessing that she was just checking in on us?”

Pine nodded and then took a deep breath in, “So.” He exhaled, looking at the young woman with some nervousness. Katie still held her confused expression and waved her hand as a gesture to continue. “I am going to make an educated guess here and say that we will be expected to dance at some point. To make our disguises more distinguished. I’m gonna need you to trust me with more than just holding your hands.” He said regrettably and nodded. A blush warmed Katie’s cheeks and she shifted a little where she sat. Slowly, she slid off the bed and chewed the inside of her cheek as she padded forth to Pine. Her nerves were very much on alert and caused her body to tremble. For years she had managed to avoid any male contact aside from her hands up until now. She couldn't back out. "Okay." She swallowed, looking up at him and moving closer. Immediately, she flinched as Pine tried to raise his hands. "Wait." She held her arms tightly around herself and took in a deep breath. "We can't dawdle." Jonathan shook his head, moving closer with her stepping back. "I know that! I-I just… Let me guide you." She licked her lips and tip toed forward, pulse racing. It was as though there was an invisible wall between the both of them as Katie hesitated to grab his hands. She had to push forward and trust in him. The only "terrible" thing he had done was kept who he was from her and mock her. Angela could have partnered her up with someone who would not even show an ounce of respect as Pine had. Even from the short amount of time, Katie gathered that yeah Pine can be a royal asshole, but at least he had class.

With shaky hands and a nervous exhale, the brunette grabbed Jonathan’s large hands gently and looked at them. “I’m trying to figure out where I’d be most uncomfortable first.” She glanced up at Pine, who nodded at her. The answer was everywhere, but with Pine she felt different. He absolutely had no malicious intent with placing his hands on her frame. This fact had brought Katie a bit of comfort and she gently placed his right hand on the small of her back and left to the back of her bare neck. Out of instinct, her body jolted away and she cowered into herself, growling in annoyance. “It’s ok, we have plenty of time as it’s only 10 PM. We can take as long as you need.” Jonathan reassured her, biting his lip a little as he thoroughly enjoyed how soft her skin was against his rough hands. The American woman nodded and took a few more deep breaths, focusing on the fact that Pine didn’t sink his fingers into her flesh as Travis would have. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she now missed Pine’s touch and how gentle it was. Her brain was starting to rewire how male touches would make her react and this time she was more confident in letting Jonathan touch her. Creeping forward and straightening her posture, Katie resumed her position in front of her partner and took his hands once more. The feeling of dread began to make its presence known once more, but the green eyed girl shook it off. She would not allow herself to revert back into that weak, spineless shell of a person she once was years ago. Katie placed his hands where she had previously put them and looked into Jonathan’s eyes, counting down from five for when her body reacted. He stared right back at her and did not curl a single finger; only having them rest naturally along her form.

A sense of calm warmed the young woman’s chest as it had certainly been more than five seconds. Katie broke out into a smile, happy tears in the corners of her eyes as she removed Pine’s hands and placed them on a different area. This time she placed both of his hands on her hips and felt no urge to pull away or flinch. Seeing the brunette smile made Pine break out into one of his own.

“You’re not hurting me.” she laughed softly as for the first time in years, she took in the feeling of a man’s touch.

“I would never hurt you. Would never dream of it.” Jonathan replied, his smile growing bigger at her touched expression.

“Cam brought you to me…” Her smile faded a little as more tears blurred her vision.

Pine tilted his head in confusion, removing his hands from her hips.

“You didn’t kill him. Listen, this is gonna sound crazy because I’m into a lot of the paranormal stuff but I think that Cam trusted you enough to have our paths meet. Wow that sounded really dumb.” Katie sniffled and chuckled at her own words.

While it did sound certainly far-fetched, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel as if there was definitely truth behind her words. He knew that this was a big stepping point in their partnership and perhaps even friendship, but they still had much to learn. “May I also say something incredibly crazy?” Pine gave her a small smile. She nodded at him to continue, wondering what he had to say. “I’m a bit of a skeptic when it comes to things like that, but because you are so truly in belief of that then I would wager that I owe him a favor. He never outright said anything about it, but he always did go on about if anything happened to him then he’d need someone to make sure his “little fox” stays out of trouble. I am inclined to take this favor and say he wants me to protect you.” The smile grew and even he had a slight urge to shed a few tears. Katie’s big smile returned and she gave a soft chuckle. “I think I’d like that a lot. I can’t really see anyone else in your place because they wouldn’t meet the requirements.” She grinned mischievously, making her way on over to the large bed and hopping on it. “Oh? And what would those requirements be?” Pine returned the grin, going to the opposite side of the bed.

“Tall, dashing, a sort of boyish charm, large and gentle hands, wonderful qualities about respect, dark curly blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and being an occasional asshole.” She laughed as her words received a scoff from the man next to her. “You had me up until the last bit.” He teased, opening the sheets and climbing into them. “We can try a bit of dancing in the morning to get you more comfortable before tomorrow night.” He leaned on his elbow, looking at the young woman beside him. Katie smiled and nodded, “I’d like that. Thank you, Steven. You’re not too bad after all. G’night!” She her back to him, snuggling into the fresh, cozy sheets. “Goodnight, Natasha.” Pine reached over to his bedside, turning the light off.

Heels clacked along the lobby floor as a slender woman with deep red hair and piercing amber eyes entered the hotel. She looked around, letting out a sigh as the people she was supposed to meet up with were late. “My Dear sister.” A deep accented males voice spoke, causing the woman to turn. A grin crept across the woman’s face and she seemed to glide effortlessly over to the man claimed to be her brother. He too had deep auburn hair and the same colored eyes. “Daniel. How nice of you to join me!” She placed a kiss to his cheek and frowned, “Where are the rest of them?” Her accented voice became sharp. Daniel placed his hand on his sister’s back and led her over to a cushioned chair by a roaring fire. “Patience, Abbadon. Our honored guests will arrive shortly enough. They have much to offer us with some exquisite pieces of fine art and jewels. I am most certain The Tigress will be most pleased with her surprise shipment of said jewels when we send them. However, you my sister, get first pick on what your heart desires.” He took a seat opposite the gorgeous woman. Abbadon sneered at the mention of The Tigress. “Can she not get her own gems? She sifts through enough of her selection's belongings to buy herself something nice. You know she isn’t one for stealing unlike that creep in Osaka.” She shuddered at the thought. Daniel frowned at her, “Come now, our Yakuza friend has done a great deal for us in the coming times. We just can’t be careless like that oaf Richard Roper.” He stared into the fire, snorting at the name.

“Here I thought you had respect for the man. You did do some business with him after all, brother.” Abbadon sighed, swaying her hair away from her shoulder.

“That’s the point, I did have respect up until his gig was busted. Now we are the ones having to do all the hard work and pick up where he left off. If it wasn’t for that one Andrew Birch fellow, and Roper’s blind trust in him, none of this would be happening right now.” Daniel’s knuckles became white as he clenched the arms of his chair.

Abbadon held her hand up, “Calm yourself, Daniel. Mm, you certainly inherited our mother's temper no doubt about that. In any case, we should cease our conversation about this topic as I can see our “honored guests” approaching.” Her red lips pulled into a smirk as she rose from her seat and pulled a letter from her hand bag, sealed with a wax mark of the Wolfsbane flower.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #fanfic #jonathan pine x ofc #spies in love #my writing #writing #tom hiddleston

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rvnclwrites · 5 years

Text

Romania 1999 Pt 5 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for parts 1 - 4.

Notes: I’m so sorry this took me a million years to post. Life got crazy, and proof reading this long of a fic took me years, but I hope you enjoy :) part 6 will be the last part in this series, so stay tuned!

Word Count: A lot. I’m talking ~11,500. Whoops.

(Y/N) brought her steaming mug of tea to her lips as Charlie sat down beside her on the couch. It had been a couple days since the pair returned from their time off, and the Sanctuary was busier than ever. They had to split up the past two mornings since Hank and Scott were the ones up to date on how the dragons were doing, and (Y/N) was grateful for the space. Between all the time they'd spent together and Charlie's Christmas present, she needed to distance herself from her feelings, which was a lot easier to do when the redhead wasn't around.

"Did Norberta do that?" (Y/N) asked when Charlie began applying a thin layer of burn-healing paste to his wrist.

"No, she did great. Aro on the other hand…" He flinched as the orange potion began to work its magic on the small patch of raw skin. "He wasn't as pleased to see me."

(Y/N) set her mug down on the wooden end table to her right and screwed the cap back onto the potion for him. That was the sixth burn she'd heard of in one week, and though it wasn't unheard of for the breed, it wasn't exactly normal either. "Does Hank have any idea what might be going on with him?"

"Not a clue. They did a physical evaluation yesterday and found nothing."

"Huh. Well, we can check on him again on Monday after Gertie and see if he's getting any better," (Y/N) suggested, placing the potion onto the coffee table in front of them.

Charlie smiled. "Sounds like a plan. How was Ventus?"

"He did great after about ten minutes or so. I'm pretty sure he was giving me the cold shoulder at first for being gone."

The redhead chuckled. "Guess I'm not the only one to notice when you're not around."

That caught (Y/N)'s attention. She tried to steady her heartbeat by forcing a laugh, ignoring Charlie's eyes on her. Was he saying he missed her? "I'm surprised you aren't sick of me after being stuck with me for a full week."

Charlie leaned back into the couch, propping his arm up on a pillow in his lap. "You're joking, right? That was one of the best holidays I've taken in years."

Not sure what to say, (Y/N) took a quick drink of her tea again to occupy herself, feeling her cheeks, and now her throat, burn.

"Did you mean what you said to my mum? About it being the best Christmas you've ever had?"

(Y/N) looked down at her lap, surprised Charlie remembered that. "Well yeah, but don't go getting a big head on me because that's not saying much." She bumped her shoulder against his, but Charlie frowned.

"You don't have to do that with me you know."

"Do what?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Use jokes to cover up your feelings."

(Y/N) swallowed, realizing it sounded like she was bitter over her family when in reality she just didn't want Charlie to know how much she enjoyed spending the past week with him and his family. "Uh, sorry. It's a bit of a habit."

"Don't get me wrong, I like how tough you are, but you can talk to me about anything."

(Y/N) stared at him, blood pounding in her ears. I like how tough you are. She tugged at her sweater sleeves awkwardly. "Okay, then I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous of your incredible family."

A smile grew Charlie's face. "I don't mind sharing. In case you didn't notice, my parents are pretty accustomed to taking in strays at this point."

Every nerve ending in (Y/N)'s body sparked, making it hard to think properly. Despite the fact that Charlie was talking about his siblings' significant others, (Y/N) reminded herself that Harry and Hermione had been Ron's friends at the start. Friends. Just like she and Charlie were.

She forced another smile, praying the dragon lover couldn't see the effect his words had on her. "Thanks. I'd like that."

"The only condition," Charlie added, narrowing his eyes at her, "is that you can't repeat any of the stories you hear to Hank or Scott."

The knot in (Y/N)'s stomach released and she burst out laughing. "Aw, come on. Can't I at least tell them you used to have a hippy ponytail like Bill does now?"

Charlie groaned, shaking his head adamantly. "Absolutely not. And I'm going to tell Bill you said that."

"I don't know why you're embarrassed by it. That picture of you was adorable." She glanced up at his orangey-red hair, which was still parted to the left like it had been in his Quidditch picture at Hogwarts but was now much shorter in the back. The thick layers up top fell past his ears and always seemed to droop in front of his face in the most adorable way. "You never did tell me why you lopped it all off."

Charlie ran a hand through the spiky strands up front, pushing them back like he always did even though they rarely stayed put. "I stopped wearing the ponytail once I left Hogwarts, but it actually wasn't until Bill's wedding that my mum had a go at it. I figured she had enough going on at the time, the least I could let her do was cut my hair."

"I take it you liked it short then?"

"No, she cut it really short. I used a spell on it a few days later but compromised by not letting it reach my shoulders."

The corners of (Y/N)'s mouth twitched as she pictured his trademark red hair as long as Bill's. "Well, if you ever grow it back out, I call dibs on braiding it. I love your hair."

The look in Charlie's eyes made her heartbeat stutter.

"You do?"

"Of course I do," (Y/N) said coolly, hoping her confession wasn't too intimate or weird. "Who wouldn't? It's the most distinguishable thing about you."

His gaze dropped back down to the orange paste on his arm. "In my experience, red hair and freckles have always been considered negative traits."

"Who the hell told you that?" (Y/N) asked, the sudden protectiveness making her body tense. "If anything, those are two of the most attractive things about you."

Charlie's eyes trailed over to meet hers, and the blood drained from (Y/N)’s face when she registered what she had said. It didn't have to be embarrassing, right? It's not like she admitted she frequently thought about touching his hair and kissing every last one of those freckles.

"Oh, come on," she added to be safe, smacking his shoulder with a pillow. "You don't get to be self conscious. The most sought after woman here was interested in you for crying out loud. That's gotta be an ego boost."

Charlie sighed, giving (Y/N) a look he usually reserved for Hank. "I take it you're referring to Sydney?"

"Of course. Who else would I be referring to?" (Y/N) considered the other women in their age range at the Sanctuary. Jessica was the only other one their coworkers obsessed over, but they would never admit it. She was Dave's younger sister and common sense told everyone she was off limits.

"Now look who's selling themselves short."

(Y/N) stared wide-eyed at the redhead before barking a laugh. "You're kidding, right?" The serious look in his eyes, however, said otherwise, and her amusement faded. "I can assure you literally no one here has hit on me. Sydney probably made it abundantly clear where I stand with them."

Charlie pursed his lips together, looking as though he had something to add to the conversation.

"What?"

"I don't think it's because of Sydney," he said hesitantly.

(Y/N) stiffened. She knew the teams gossiped, she had just always hoped it wasn't about her. "What do you mean?"

"The only reason they haven't chatted you up is because…" He trailed off, looking as though he was hoping she could somehow magically connect the remaining dots.

"Because…?" (Y/N) urged. She genuinely had no clue where he was going with this.

Charlie kept his eyes on her, but (Y/N) could tell he was embarrassed. "Well, based off of comments they've made in the past, I think they're assuming there's something going on between us."

"Oh." The word came out like a high pitched croak due to (Y/N)'s sudden dry throat. While she had always worried about Hank and Scott assuming she was pining over the redhead, she hadn't given a second thought about what the other teams likely presumed about their relationship.

"I've tried to tell them otherwise," Charlie added, "but they listen just about as well as Aro does."

The expression on his face made it seem as though Charlie had been teased about their friendship at one point or another, and (Y/N) tried to ignore the nervous pitter-patter of her heart at the thought. "Shit, I'm sorry. Did you want me to talk to them? I can tell them to piss off."

Charlie smiled a little. "No, I don't care what they think, I just- I thought you should know. You know, in case you wanted any of them to ask you out."

"What? No," (Y/N) said automatically, unable to stop the distaste from showing on her face at the idea of anyone at the Sanctuary asking her out. Anyone except… She swallowed, forcing herself back to the present moment. "If anything, I should say thanks. That's spared me a lot of trouble. But… doesn't it bother you?"

Charlie's brows drew together. "Why would it? You're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

Just like that, it suddenly felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Did he… did he really just say that?

An indistinguishable shift in tension settled over them as they stared at one another, and (Y/N) realized how easy it would be to make a move. She could practically feel the words pleading to leave her mouth- Charlie, is there something going on between us?

But Charlie continued speaking, extinguishing the opportunity and snapping her back to reality.

"Besides, they-"

Boots clomping on (Y/N)'s front porch followed by an abrupt knock on the screen door made both Dragonologists jolt in their seats and turn around towards (Y/N)'s front door.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hank said, pushing open the squeaky screen door, "but some woman's here to see ya, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) froze, and a heavy lead weight started to creep its way up her legs, settling itself neatly inside her stomach. "Did she say her name?"

"Nah. She said it's a surprise? Adorable little thing with blonde hair. Looks to be about your age."

"Oh my God!" (Y/N) squealed, jumping to her feet. "Charlie, hold that thought- I promise I'll be right back!"

She flew past Hank, not even bothering to grab a jacket despite the chilly temperatures. Dashing down the porch steps, she yelped again when she spotted the one and only Penny Haywood near the entrance gates.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) cried, colliding into her friend with the best bear hug she could manage.

Penny giggled, hugging (Y/N) back just as enthusiastically and refusing to let go even for a second. "My family decided to visit relatives in Britain over Christmas break, so I thought I'd surprise you for New Year's."

(Y/N) felt a tightness creep into her throat. She couldn't believe Penny was really here, she had missed her so much. "You scared the hell out of me, you know," (Y/N) whispered into the blonde's ear.

She could hear the dorky grin in Penny's voice. "Just making sure you're staying alert. You seemed to be getting quite cozy here in your letters."

"Alright, alright," came an unexpected masculine voice behind Penny, and (Y/N)'s mouth dropped open when she glanced up. "I gave you the first two minutes like I promised, but I want my hug now."

"Barnaby!" (Y/N) gasped, her heart swelling so much she could hardly breathe.

Penny conceded and released (Y/N) from her death grip long enough for (Y/N) to lunge at the Thunderbird. The six foot tall Magizoologist lifted her off the ground with ease, spinning her around in a full circle and squeezing her as tight as he could without crushing her. "You didn't think I'd miss out on this epic trip, did you?"

(Y/N) felt her eyes burn from the elation while Barnaby set her gently back on her feet. "I've missed you guys so much. How is everyone?"

"We'll catch you up on everything," Penny promised before a mischievous glint reflected in her blue eyes. "But first, you have to tell me who's waiting on your front porch for you."

(Y/N) turned to see Charlie leaning against the porch railing. He smiled at her, which only worsened (Y/N)'s over-stimulation and brought his earlier statement rushing back into her mind. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Shit, what had he been about to say to her?

"Merlin's beard, is (Y/N) (L/N) blushing?" Penny gushed, playfully shoving (Y/N)'s shoulder.

Barnaby howled with laughter. "Awh, come on, don't tell me this place has made you a softie."

"Would you two shut up, we're just friends," (Y/N) hissed even though neither of them had been remotely loud enough for anyone to hear. "I'll only introduce you if you guys promise to behave."

"Fiine," Penny huffed, and Barnaby drew an "X" over his chest.

"Cross my heart."

(Y/N) bit her lip, secretly excited for Charlie to meet her friends. She hoped he liked them as much as she liked his family.

An unpleasant thought struck her, however, as she swiveled around and saw Dave and Russell gawking from the researcher's picnic table. For a ridiculous moment, (Y/N) didn't want to introduce Penny to Charlie until common sense caught up with her. In fact, as they approached the porch, (Y/N) noticed his eyes weren't even on the blonde at all, but rather on Barnaby.

"Charlie, this is Barnaby and Penny, two of my best friends from America."

"It's great to meet you," Charlie said, extending a hand to Barnaby, but (Y/N) noticed a change in his demeanor since they had been talking. Was he mad at her for running out on their conversation? She sure hoped not.

The redhead turned to do the same for Penny, but (Y/N) was mortified when the blonde flung herself forward instead, hugging Charlie without warning.

"Thank you for looking out for her," she said, unapologetically squeezing him once before releasing him. (Y/N) was going to kill her later.

Charlie chuckled, his posture rigid as usual from the unexpected physical contact. "This one hardly needs taking care of."

(Y/N) smiled at that. Charlie needed to start being more careful or her head was going to be the size of a hot air balloon by the end of the night.

"Isn't that the truth," Penny muttered, shooting (Y/N) a pointed look. "So what now? We don't want to butt in if you're busy."

(Y/N) shrugged. "No, we were just hanging out. We're always done a few hours before nightfall. What do you guys want to do?"

"Can we tour the place at all?" Barnaby asked, the childlike excitement evident in his voice.

Unsure of the rules, (Y/N) glanced to Charlie, who checked the watch on his wrist.

"As long as (Y/N)'s with you and you stay far enough away from each dragon, then sure. Just stick to the paths and be back by dusk."

Penny beamed, instantly dragging Barnaby towards the winding pathway past Charlie's house. "C'mon then, what are we waiting for?"

(Y/N) moved to follow them, but when Charlie stayed put, she turned back. "Aren't you coming?"

His eyebrows raised. "Oh no, it's cool. Go catch up with your friends."

She shot him a funny look. Did he really think she was going to ditch him because her old friends showed up? Without questioning the urge, (Y/N) grasped his hand the way Penny had Barnaby's and tugged his arm once. "Then you have to come too."

His gaze trailed down to where their hands were connected before settling back on (Y/N). Refusing to feel self conscious, she squeezed his hand and urged him forward again, earning herself another half smile as he conceded and followed her down the porch steps.

And the best part? Charlie squeezed her hand right back.

Penny and Barnaby stayed at the Sanctuary for the weekend, celebrating the new millennium with (Y/N)'s team and catching up on everything they had missed in each others' lives. (Y/N) tried her best not to babble too much about the Sanctuary but could hardly help it as story after story came rushing to her head. She got to hear all about Penny's teaching position and Barnaby's new pets back home. They told her how Rowan and Jae were doing, and at night (Y/N) was able to confide in Penny about her confusing feelings for the redhead. It was so amazing to have them there that it went by in a blur and, as (Y/N) anticipated, saying goodbye became one of the hardest tasks in the world.

But the one thing that made the inevitable easier to stomach was Charlie, who was waiting for her with two brooms in hand as soon Penny and Barnaby left on Sunday morning.

"Figured you could use a ride right now," he said, extending one of the Nimbus 2008s to her.

She beamed at him, refusing to acknowledge the lump in her throat while she mounted the broom. What would she do without him?

He lead the way to the Thestrals, surprising (Y/N) again with just how well he knew her. The comfort of the creatures combined with Charlie's company meant more to her than she could put into words.

"So how you doing?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her as they sat next to each other on a large rock near the pond. The concern in his voice brought (Y/N) back to that bench at the Burrow and Charlie admitting he was worried she'd want to go back to the States.

"I'm okay. I still have the dragons and you, don't I?" She nudged him playfully, wanting him to know she would be alright. Even in America, (Y/N) jumped around so much she became accustomed to not seeing her friends for months at a time. Her sadness from today would dissolve soon enough and the redhead was undoubtedly expediting that process.

He smiled at her, his freckled face pink in the afternoon sunlight. "Definitely."

"So my crazy friends didn't scare you away then?"

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "No, they were cool. I'm glad I got to meet them."

"Me too. Even if they are humiliating sometimes..." She shuddered, remembering Penny revealed that (Y/N) spent most of their third year in the library reading about dragons.

"Just consider the playing field a little bit more even now," Charlie said. "More incentive for you to not tell Hank or Scott any of my stories."

"Yeah, yeah." She studied the resting Thestral in front of her and replayed the weekend events in her head a few times. "I would say it went pretty well though."

"Aside from Logan hitting on both of them. He's ridiculous."

(Y/N) laughed. The thirty year old research team member was the most flirtatious wizard she had ever met. "Oh, I considered it a win that he was the only one. Those two always get hit on, especially Penny."

Charlie didn't say anything in response, so she added, "It's okay, you know. You can admit she's hot, it's no secret."

Their gazes met and the guileless look in his eyes told (Y/N) he wasn't hiding anything. "Yeah, I mean she's pretty I guess."

(Y/N) stared at him, stupefied by his disinterest. In the fifteen years she had known the Pukwudgie, nearly everyone was a little stunned by her beauty. "Okay, was your girlfriend at Hogwarts some sort of rare godless-like creature or am I missing something?"

Charlie looked back toward the Thestral and (Y/N) had the sudden fear she made the dragon lover uncomfortable. Just as she was about to apologize and tell him to forget it, he said, "She was nice."

(Y/N) held her breath, waiting- or at least hoping- for him to continue. That couldn't have been the only quality he liked about her. Sydney may have walked a tight line on that one, but Penny and Fleur were nice too.

"And we were friends." The redhead sighed, rubbing the stubble across his jawline. "I don't expect you to understand because no one seems to, but I'm only ever attracted to someone after I know them. After we're friends."

(Y/N) prayed he couldn't hear the nervous hammering of her heart. They were friends. Did that mean that she could actually have a chance with him?

She shook her mind of the thought, scolding herself for being so selfish. Scooting closer to the dragon lover, (Y/N) allowed her shoulder to press against his as she placed a hand on his forearm. "Hey, what's wrong with that?"

He glanced down at her, his brown eyes searching hers for something. "I don't know. People have given me grief about it since I was a teenager. They just don't get it."

She frowned, not sure if she was more upset for Charlie or angry with those people. "I would've never made that comment if I'd known. I'd never make fun of or judge you for anything like that. Those people are assholes."

A grateful smile tugged at the redhead's lips. "Thanks."

Their eyes met again, and for a ridiculous, utterly delusional moment, (Y/N) thought she felt another shift in tension between them. Did he just lean in closer?

She was clearly losing her wits because Charlie merely turned to face the Thestrals again, saying, "So what about you?"

(Y/N) blinked, attempting to calm her rampant pulse. "Huh?" No wonder they called it lovesick. The way this man fried her brain cells was sickening.

"You've heard all about my lack-luster love life, and yet I've heard nothing about yours. Surely you left some bloke heartbroken back across the pond?"

Less than pleasant memories resurfaced in (Y/N)'s mind, causing an angst-riddled scoff to escape her lips. "Hardly," she muttered, the flashbacks leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Charlie waited patiently, clearly expecting further explanation, and (Y/N)'s gut twisted as she was forced to confront one of the many aspects about her past that she would prefer to forget.

She couldn't blame her ex's. (Y/N) had more baggage than most their age- baggage that had to be kept under wraps and constantly required her to move from place to place. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt when people you cared for called you selfish and a liar. Or when they betrayed you.

"My first relationship was great," she began, wanting him to know not all of her experiences had been shitty. "He was insanely sweet and was in the same Ilvermorny house as me, so we had a lot in common. But after my brother died, I needed space and he understood." She tried not to fidget, grateful the cool air kept her hands from sweating. "We never could rekindle what we once had, so I moved on to a new state and new career."

"And after that?" Charlie asked. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was stalling.

(Y/N) sighed, drawing her knees against her chest. "Let's just say I learned early on that it's better not to get involved with people until you're ready to settle down."

Charlie seemed to consider this. "I take it someone didn't like it when you switched jobs again?"

She shook her head. "I asked him to come with me, but he didn't want to." She shuddered, still able to feel the slap of rejection after all this time. "I'd never had someone be so angry with me before and it's not really something I ever want to experience again." (Y/N)'s head began to ache because the memories were only an earth-shattering reminder of why she and Charlie would never work. Of why she should never trust anyone but her four Ilvermorny friends with her secrets ever again.

Charlie tensed beside her, his jaw muscles flexing. "I'd ask if he hurt you, but I have no doubt the damage you've done if he tried."

A welcomed grin took over (Y/N)'s face. She and Charlie had dueled each other loads of times, most of which ended with Charlie on the ground first. "You betcha."

"Sorry for bringing it up if you didn't want to talk about it."

"No, it's okay," (Y/N) assured, feeling that it was only fair considering what he told her. "It's probably healthier to talk about it."

"Have you dated anyone since?" Charlie asked.

She shook her head. "A couple flings here and there, but he stabbed me in the back pretty good. Haven't really been able to trust anyone enough."

"No one at all?"

(Y/N) held her breath and glanced up at the redhead. Was he asking if she trusted him?

As her heart rate increased, Charlie added hesitantly, "What about Barnaby?"

A mixture of disappointment and bewilderment bubbled in (Y/N)'s stomach. "What?" Her shoulders shook with laughter, and she cringed at the mere thought. "No. Merlin no." She continued laughing until she saw unexpected tension release from Charlie's shoulders and remembered his expression when he met the Thunderbird.

Wait, was he…

"I just thought you two seemed close," he said with a shrug.

(Y/N) studied him closely. "I trust that guy with my life, but not like that. He's like my brother."

Charlie remained quiet, and a realization struck (Y/N). While she may have had several intimate bonds with a handful of friends, Charlie really only seemed to have his brother, who was now married, and her. Jealousy could exist in platonic forms, not just romantic.

"Charles Weasley," (Y/N) began, an arrogant grin spreading across her face. "Are you jealous of my friendship with Barnaby?"

Color flooded the redhead's cheeks faster than (Y/N) could say gotcha, and he jerked his head back towards the Thestrals. "What? No, of course not."

"Merlin's beard, you so are!" (Y/N) couldn't stop herself from poking his side, and he swatted her hand away.

"Sod off," he said, standing up to avoid her teasing, and she hurried after him towards their brooms.

"Oh, come on. There's no need to fight over me. I can have more than one best guy friend, you know."

Charlie turned back around unexpectedly, making (Y/N) reel back to stop herself from colliding into his chest. He stared down at her, his mesmerizing eyes piercing right through her, but a roar in the distance caught their attention before he could speak.

(Y/N)'s face lit up at the familiar sound. "Wanna go check on Aro?"

Charlie paused, the teasing seemingly forgotten as his eyebrows raised. "You want to go check on him? ...On our day off?"

"Sure, why not?" She was surprised he was even questioning her. Charlie was always down to visit the dragons.

Amusement reflected in those brown eyes and he stared at her so long, (Y/N) wanted to look away, but she didn't.

"Sure," he said finally, a grin growing on his pale face. "Race you."

To say Aro was more irritable than usual was an understatement. The Hungarian Horntail would barely let them stand a hundred feet away, let alone the standard fifty. The pair had to use the surrounding trees and boulders to sneak closer, keeping their motions limited and voices low.

"When exactly did he burn you?" (Y/N) asked, crouching behind a thick, leafless oak tree.

Charlie thought for a moment. "Actually, it was after I fed him, which I found odd. He's usually one of the easiest to manipulate with food, but he almost seemed worse right after he ate."

She considered this. While a physical exam wouldn't diagnose gastrointestinal issues, there was no way the food would have made it to the digestive tract that quickly. "No vomiting?"

"Nope. Felix thinks they're going to have to take a blood sample tomorrow unless they find out what's wrong."

(Y/N)'s heart sank. Withdrawing dragon's blood was no easy task. Their thick skin was hard to penetrate even with the use of magic, and it was usually a painful, traumatic experience for the creature. "No. We'll figure out what's wrong with him."

One of Charlie's heart stopping smiles made an appearance, releasing a hoard of butterflies in (Y/N)'s chest.

"What's the plan then?"

She peered around the tree, glancing at the dragon perched on the solid ground. His posture was tense and tail rigid, indicating he was either alert or in constant pain. Since there were no alarming sounds or threats nearby, (Y/N) assumed it had to be the ladder, but what could be hurting him that wouldn't show up in a physical?

"Charlie, do you think you could get him to open his mouth?" she asked suddenly.

The redhead chuckled. "I don't think that will be a problem."

She smiled apologetically. "Preferably without it being followed by fire though."

"Alright, that might be a tad bit more difficult." He reached for a Snitch-sized rock on the ground before standing and moving behind the next tree in line. "Mind telling me what we're looking for first?"

"The mouth is the only external part not checked in a physical."

Charlie quirked an eyebrow. "You think he's being this mean over a toothache?"

"He could've cut his tongue or have an infection," she whispered, hurrying past Charlie to duck behind a nearby boulder. (Y/N) was no longer thankful for the surprisingly warm January day; snow would have been a welcomed distraction for what she was about to do. "I'm gonna get as close as I can to see while you try to distract him."

Charlie nodded hesitantly. "You sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow? I'd say the probability of getting burned is pretty high."

Despite knowing the odds were likely not in her favor, they could keep looking for answers if they were wrong today. If they were wrong tomorrow, Felix would probably move forward with the blood withdrawal. "I'm willing to get a little banged up for Aro's sake."

The redhead still didn't seem as convinced. "Why don't you let me get close to him while you distract him?"

"Because you don't know what different injuries to look out for. How many dragons here have had gum infections or tongue abrasions?"

Charlie pursed his lips together. "Fair point."

She smiled at him, hating the way her heart warmed at his obvious concern. "I'll be fine as long as you promise to apply the burn-healing paste for me."

The worry instantly left Charlie's face, replaced by an amused smile. "Deal."

(Y/N) ignored the butterflies in her stomach, along with the thought that maybe the burn that was likely to follow wouldn't be so bad. "Now throw the rock while I try to get a good view of his mouth."

Charlie obliged while she army crawled forward, staying low to the ground and wiggling her body as little as possible. When the rock hit the ground, Aro's head lifted in response, body seemingly frozen as those intense eyes darted around the clearing. (Y/N) froze, hoping she was far enough to the dragon's right that he would miss her. Thankfully, Charlie sent another rock past Aro this time, causing the dragon's head to jerk in the opposite direction. He growled at the pebble, displaying the right side of his mouth to (Y/N). No black teeth, purple gums, or bleeding there.

She glanced back at Charlie, motioning for him to toss the next rock up into the air. He did one better by withdrawing his wand and using the levitation spell on the rock. Aro's head followed the rock as it climbed through the air, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to center herself with the dragon. His growl was a low grumble, clearly more intrigued by the rock than threatened, but his mouth was just wide enough for her to spot the blood oozing from his top left canine. It was no wonder the team didn't notice it- most would assume the blood was from the raw meat he was being fed.

Realizing Aro was losing interest in the rock, she scrambled to her feet, retreating to the nearest tree. He howled in anger when she made a break for it, but the Hungarian Horntail surprised her. Instead of letting out an angry burst of flames like she was anticipating to dodge, Aro whipped his tail from out behind him, nailing (Y/N) right between the shoulder blades.

She stumbled forward from the blow, letting out a gasp as the spikes punctured her skin. She caught herself from face planting on the rock solid ground and instinctively tried to push herself up until agonizing pain unfurled inside her, forcing her arms to give out. She tried to crawl forward, just barely registering Charlie distracting Aro in the background. Thank God for that.

Once (Y/N) reached a large enough rock, she used her abs instead of her arms to pull herself up and leaned against the chilled stone for support as she made her way back to her feet.

"What hurts?" Charlie asked once he reached her, his voice gentle as always. He had always been the best at staying calm under pressure.

"Upper back," she gritted, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. She couldn't stop herself from slumping against the redhead when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away from the rock, carefully trying to avoid the injury.

"Madam Rosetta's is at least a ten minute walk from here. Can you make it?"

(Y/N) shook her head, but not for the reason Charlie was thinking of. Despite the stinging pain, she could force herself to make it just about anywhere, but thankfully she was cognizant enough to know better.

"Do you want me to carry you there?"

Burying her face into that forest green shirt he was wearing seemed like one of the most appealing options in the world, but she willed herself to shake her head again while her body and subconscious called her a traitor. "Just help me get the nearest emergency shed first."

Even though the pain was isolated to her back, each step felt worse than the last as (Y/N)'s adrenaline wore off. Once they reached one of the dozens of sheds scattered throughout the Sanctuary, (Y/N) rested a palm against the dark wood for support while Charlie held the door open for her.

Blinking through the black and white dots clouding her vision, (Y/N) eased her way into the cramped shed, stumbling toward the familiar oak table against the left wall and letting out a hiss of pain while she leaned back against it. "Son of a bitch."

As the shed door banged shut behind Charlie, she squeezed her eyes shut and eased herself up onto the wooden table, gripping the ledge on either side of her. She was probably going to bruise her palms from how tightly she was holding on, but she didn't care. She'd do anything to find relief from the searing pain emanating from the space between her shoulder blades.

Two creaks of the floorboards and a sudden nearby warmth told her her Charlie was now beside her, undoubtedly surveying the damage.

"We've got to get you to Madam Rosetta."

His voice seemed to be about the only thing that could bring (Y/N) any relief. Smooth as honey and concern for her threaded into each syllable. But there was no way she could do that. The Sanctuary had rules when it came to serious injuries. Rules that required documentation and professional review- more written proof of her being here.

(Y/N) shook her head once, releasing a slow, calming breath before she blinked her eyes open. She was wrong- her best friend’s freckled face brought her an ounce of relief too.

"I just your need help," she insisted as calmly as she could while brushing hair away from the nape of her neck. A light smear against her fingertips indicated just how deep the wound was and Charlie let out a hiss of breath.

"Bloody hell."

She attempted a pathetic smile while she wiped away the faint trace of blood smudged across her fingers with the sleeve of her sweater. "Quite a literal choice of words there, don't you think?"

Charlie didn't laugh. His intense brown eyes were laser focused on her back, and embarrassment settled over her when (Y/N) realized she needed to take her shirt off.

"What are you doing?" he asked, more alarmed than (Y/N) had ever heard him before as she fumbled behind herself to grip the back of the sweater.

With a wince and a frustrated sigh, (Y/N) lowered her hands back to her sides. "Can you help me lift the back of my shirt over my head?"

Considering this was the man who flinched at hugs and flushed at cheek kisses, (Y/N) waited for him to protest, but it never came. To her surprise, Charlie moved without being told twice, carefully sliding the hem of her gray sweater up and stretching out the collar to guide it seamlessly over her head.

(Y/N)’s shirt now rested in front of her, giving her a view of the slashed and blood soaked material. Despite how off putting the sight of her own blood was, she kept her arms in the sleeves, thankful the bunched up fabric managed to cover up most of her cleavage. Why couldn't she have worn a sports bra today?

“It’s over a centimeter deep,” Charlie said, averting his eyes from the wound. The raspy falter in his voice made (Y/N) wonder if it was the severity of the injury or the fact that she was practically shirtless that left him so unnerved. They were best friends right? This was no different than him seeing her in a bikini top.

(Y/N) slowly straightened her slumped shoulders, forcing away all visible signs of insecurity for Charlie’s sake. Anything to make him feel less uncomfortable. “Can you speak American for two seconds? My brain is a little too overwhelmed to handle the metric system right now.”

Charlie smiled for the first time since they had stepped foot inside the shed and held his thumb and index finger up to show her.

“Okay, about half an inch. Thank you.” She attempted to pull her hair free from the neckline of the sweater but stopped abruptly as the abrasion moved with her shoulder blade. She let out a second grunt of irritation and pain, hating nothing more than the temporary loss of her independence. Just as she was about to try again, her breath caught as Charlie’s fingertips brushed against her neck, freeing the trapped strands and brushing them over one shoulder.

“What do I do?” The look in his eyes was urgent, and (Y/N)’s heart squeezed in response. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t tell her she was an idiot for not going to the nurse. He just wanted to help her.

She smiled gratefully and pointed to the top shelf on the back wall. “Grab one of the purple bottles on the right.” Staring down at her sweater, her head pounded argumentatively while she racked her brain for the blood cleaning spell. It started with a T and was right on the tip of her tongue. “Ugh.” She roughly rubbed a hand over her face, wanting the throbbing sensation in her back to stop for just one second.

“What?” Charlie asked, instantly stepping back in front of her and setting the potion bottle onto the table beside her thigh.

She turned away from him as a frustrated flush reached her cheeks. Two of the traits she prided herself most on were her intelligence and independence, both of which were failing her right now. “I can’t remember the stupid spell to clear all this blood up. I was a Healer for an entire year and I can’t remember the damn spell.”

“Hey.” Charlie’s cold fingers rested beneath (Y/N)’s chin, gently forcing her to look at him. The touch was quick, but the striking contrast to her scorched skin made (Y/N)’s head spin. “Your body is beat up enough. We don’t need you taking swings at it too, okay?”

(Y/N) nodded, still slightly dazed from the feeling of his hand against her skin. “Okay.”

Charlie grabbed a stack of towels from the shelf and set them beside the potion bottle. “This may hurt,” he warned, tugging on a fresh pair of work gloves, “but I’ll try to put as little pressure as possible.”

(Y/N) nodded, squeezing her eyes shut again as Charlie picked up one of the towels and began blotting away the excess blood from around the wound. She calmed herself by breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth while counting to ten, the technique she used to encourage her former patients to use.

“What now?” Charlie asked, setting the blood stained towel off to the side.

(Y/N) twisted the cap off of the potion and poured a generous amount of the purple liquid onto a fresh towel before handing it to Charlie. Leaning forward so her back was more accessible, she said, “This will clean it and prevent infection. Just dab it until it starts to smoke.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie muttered when she sucked in a sharp breath as the wet towel touched her skin.

She knew the potion stung and had anticipated the pain, but it was even worse than the burn-healing paste. She bit her lip hard and was relieved when the antiseptic started to settle into the wound, alleviating some of the discomfort.

Charlie’s forehead creased with concern after he set aside second towel and gloves. “It’s smoking, but it’s still bleeding a little.”

“It’s okay. Do you remember the third healing spell I taught you?"

Nodding, Charlie withdrew his wand but hesitated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather Madam Rosetta do it? We've only practiced that one a handful of times.”

“Now who’s beating themselves up? You also mended Gertie’s broken claw last month on your first try and bandaged Scott’s leg two weeks ago like a pro.”

“But none of those were this severe.” He glanced down at the infliction for a minute before their eyes met again, and his voice was barely audible when he spoke. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at him. “You won’t, you’ll help me. We’re best friends, right? I trust you.”

Something sparked in Charlie’s eyes at those words, and after a minute, he nodded. “Vulnera Sanentur, right?” The melodic phrase fell from his lips with the perfect inflection on each syllable.

She grinned and leaned forward again. “Just like that, three times.”

He did exactly as he was taught, tracing his wand back and forth and performing the spell with so much elegance, (Y/N) was too distracted to notice the poking of his wand or the feeling of her broken skin knitting back together. When the words stopped, it felt as though someone had used a Time Turner, reverting back before Aro had ever scratched her.

“Merlin’s beard,” Charlie breathed, his voice full of wonder and pride while (Y/N) exhaled in relief. She knew what he was feeling- Vulnera Sanentur was one of those spells that had the ability to take your breath away when you saw it work. Without warning, he set his wand down and traced his fingers across her upper back, making (Y/N)'s head and heart go haywire. She sucked in a shaky breath and Charlie paused, looking alarmed. “Does it still hurt?”

Mortified, (Y/N) shook her head and hopped off the table. “Are you kidding? You did it perfectly!” She wanted to hug him but stopped herself once she registered her current sweater situation, which only led to a second wave of embarrassment. He probably wouldn’t appreciate (Y/N) pressing her blood covered shirt or her bra-clad chest against him. Studying the material, she realized she still couldn’t recall the blood cleaning charm and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

Her attention returned to the redhead when she heard rustling, only to find Charlie now in a white undershirt, extending his long sleeve shirt toward her. For a moment, (Y/N) just stared at the green fabric in his hand while her heart continued to have a mind of its own. He was offering her his shirt. It took a moment for that realization to sink in, and (Y/N) wasn't sure which outcome was worse- having to put her mangled, bloody sweater back on or Charlie continuing to stand there in his nearly see-thru t-shirt that clung to his body like static. Neither were great options.

“You don’t have to,” she began, but he pushed the cotton material into her hand.

“Take it. I don’t want you to start freaking out about that spell again.”

(Y/N) smiled softly, deciding she was hardly about to put up a fight after what he had just done for her. As soon as she began to slip her arms free from her sweater, Charlie rotated around towards the table, turning (Y/N)'s insides to mush. He was so sweet she couldn't take it.

All the nerves in (Y/N)’s body jolted to attention when she pulled the fresh material over her head and a wave of Charlie's scent hit her. It took all of her self control to not bunch the material up against her nose and breath in that overwhelmingly pleasant honeysuckle and grass smell. "Thanks," she muttered, letting him know it was safe to look once the hem of the shirt fell past her hips. Charlie was only four or five inches taller than (Y/N), but the shirt was easily two sizes too big because of his broad chest and defined arms.

She tossed her sweater onto the table and was surprised to find Charlie staring at her. His eyes held an intensity (Y/N) had never seen before and she started to feel claustrophobic in the tiny shed. Why was he looking at her like that? She attempted to take a step back, but the heel of her boot clacked against the wood panel wall behind her. His gaze somehow managed to feel more invasive now than when she was standing beside him in her bra just moments ago.

(Y/N) was about to ask what he was staring at, but she didn't have a chance to speak. Without warning, Charlie closed the distance between them, his hand suddenly cupping her cheek, his body pushing her back against the wall, and before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her.

Butterflies erupted in (Y/N)'s stomach and her brain short circuited as Charlie's mouth met hers. Her palms landed on his chest while Charlie's free hand gripped her waist, and she was frozen in place. The only move her instincts allowed her to make was to close her eyes and kiss him back.

She may have imagined kissing the redhead more times than she'd ever admit, but this was nothing like those fantasies. She had always assumed he would be sweet and gentle, maybe even shy. Boy was she wrong.

(Y/N)'s heartbeat pounded like a Bludger trapped inside her chest as Charlie's body pressed against her own. His calloused fingers dug into her hip, keeping her firmly in place, and (Y/N) sucked in a breath as their tongues swirled against one another, sending a wave of pleasure over her. She involuntarily curled her fingers into his shirt to tug him closer, unable to believe how good this man's mouth felt on hers. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. She never wanted him to stop. She wanted to do this all the time.

But unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end. (Y/N) wasn't sure if it had been a few seconds, minutes or hours when Charlie finally jerked back. Both of them just stared at one another for a minute, wide eyed and breathless. Charlie's heavily freckled cheeks burned a shade of red (Y/N) had never seen on him before.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, and (Y/N) could tell by the panicked look growing in his brown eyes that he was about to freak out. He took a step back and closed his eyes, roughly rubbing one of his palms over his forehead.

(Y/N) just blinked at him, her chest still heaving up and down as she tried to circulate more oxygen to her brain. Anything to help the gears in her head start moving again. In that moment, she wanted to be bold. (Y/N) wanted to pull Charlie back against her and tell him to do it again. She wished more than ever that she hadn't accepted his shirt so there would have been something more substantial to clutch onto, forcing him to stay close for as long as she wanted. But instead, there she stood, dumbfounded, confused and unable to form a single damn sentence. Her chin still tingled where his stubble had scratched her, which somehow managed to be both the best and worst feeling all at the same time.

"Chaarlie," a muffled voice called from outside, breaking their staring contest.

Hank. Of bloody course.

The redhead looked tormented as his gaze alternated between (Y/N) and the shed door. His brain seemed to be just as rattled as her own.

"Go see what he wants," (Y/N) encouraged with a weak smile, reaching for her sweater on the table. "I'm good." She was referring to her back but hoped it passed for both the injury and the... the word kiss lit up in neon inside (Y/N)'s head. Holy shit. Charlie Weasley had seriously just kissed her.

He hesitated, frowning slightly. "You sure?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure what to make of his expression and still couldn't think properly, so she nodded. The last thing she needed was to have a mental breakdown in front of him while overthinking what the hell just happened. "Yeah, of course. Let's go see what he wants."

"There you are," Hank said, jogging down the path as soon as Charlie emerged from the shack. "Everything okay?" His greying eyebrows ratcheted up as (Y/N) leaned against the door frame, and her face flamed once she realized all the scenarios undoubtedly running through the forty-three year old's mind. She was wearing Charlie's shirt for heaven's sake.

"All good," she said, quickly folding her sweater over her arm so the deep red patch faced Hank.

His cocky smile vanished immediately. "Merlin's beard, you sure? What the hell happened?"

Charlie and (Y/N)'s gaze met briefly before they both looked away.

"We found out what's wrong with Aro," (Y/N) answered, hoping to lead the conversation to the safest territory she knew- dragons.

Hank sighed, shaking his head. "Seriously? You guys can't even take the weekend off?" When neither Charlie nor (Y/N) responded, Hank's forehead creased. "Is that all? You two look like you've seen a dementor."

The anxious look in Charlie's eyes made (Y/N)'s chest ache. Did he really think she was going to tell Hank right then and there that he had kissed her?

"Just shaken up," (Y/N) explained, feeling a lump bob in her throat. "I was expecting fire, not his tail. Charlie was great though and healed it for me. It hurt too much for me to make it down to Madam Rosetta." Her stomach twisted at the lie. Why did her life have to be this way?

Hank nudged Charlie in the shoulder with his knuckles as the trio turned back toward the village. "Good on ya, Weasley. Why don't we go grab a Butterbeer? To two look like you could use a good drink right about now while ya tell me about Aro. I'm sure Felix will be thrilled."

Food and drinks were the last thing on (Y/N)'s mind, but she went along with it. They told Hank about the Horntail's infected tooth, and (Y/N) managed to stomach half of a Butterbeer before the tension in the room was too much for her to handle.

"Where ya goin'?" Hank asked when she stood up from their picnic table.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up and fix my sweater," she said, taking a step back and jabbing her thumb towards her place. To (Y/N)'s surprise, Charlie looked more startled than relieved.

"Do you want any help?"

(Y/N)'s head started spinning again as she tried to decipher what that meant. Was that code for let's sneak off and kiss again? Or for wanting to tell her to never mention what happened ever again?

"Nope, I've got it," she reassured a bit too forcefully.

The concern in his eyes made it seem like that wasn't the answer he was hoping for, and that just made everything that much more confusing. She needed a moment alone to think. Her brain was about ready to explode.

"Just let us know if you need anything," Hank said, raising his glass to her.

Backing up towards her front porch, she forced one last smile and waved. "Yep. I'll catch up with you guys later."

She felt Charlie's eyes on her until the door closed behind her. Letting her back rest against the wood, she slid down to the floor and began racking her brain, finally letting panic sink in.

Why had he kissed her? Was it some sort of response to her being hurt? Was it something she had said? Most importantly, why did he look so regretful after he had done it?

Maybe he hadn't enjoyed it. Maybe he thought he might feel something and didn't, and now he didn't know what to say.

The kick to her gut was quickly remedied by the inappropriate reminder that at least one part of him had enjoyed the kiss. Goosebumps broke out across (Y/N)'s skin, and while she forced away thoughts of Charlie's body against hers, a lightbulb flicked on inside her head. The look in his eyes and the unanticipated hunger behind the kiss. He was only ever attracted to someone after they were friends, and she had been practically shirtless while they were crammed in a small space together. How could she be so oblivious? It was probably a purely hormonal response and now he was mortified. But (Y/N) couldn't blame him… eight years was a long time. She just wished that realization didn't make her heart feel so heavy.

Forcing herself to breathe, (Y/N) told herself she was being ridiculous. Whatever the reason, it wasn't a big deal. It was just a kiss. Sure, it may have been a mind-numbing explosion of one for her, but she could put it behind her. A relationship was the last thing she needed to worry about anyway. It was too dangerous. (Y/N) barely could afford to make friends, let alone date someone. She didn't want anyone to get hurt or into trouble because of her.

Charlie continued sitting across from Hank, barely able to take his eyes off (Y/N)'s door as the minutes ticked past. He was completely conflicted between staying glued to the picnic table all night and pounding on her door until she opened it.

"You two have been acting weird ever since you got back," Hank said, setting his Butterbeer down onto the table. "Everything okay?"

Charlie shook his head, drumming his fingers nervously on the table. "No, I'm an idiot."

"Oh, Lord. What'd ya do now?"

"I kissed her."

Hank straightened so abruptly he knocked his Butterbeer over, but the man hardly seemed to care. "You what?"

The redhead dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his temples and sighing. "I bloody kissed her."

"What the hell are you groaning about?" Hank boomed, slapping a hand against the table. "This is the best news I've heard all month!"

"No it's not. The walk back here was awkward as hell because we were interrupted before we had the chance to talk." Charlie shot his buddy a look, but Hank hardly looked apologetic.

"You could have told me to piss off."

"And say what? We're busy in here, come back later? I'm sure your reaction to that would have been real appropriate."

Hank rubbed his stubble to hide is grin, not even attempting to correct the redhead. "Well, did she kiss you back?"

Charlie averted his eyes, hating how easy it was to recall (Y/N)'s mouth on his- the way her hands gripped his t-shirt, the muffled gasp she had made into his mouth. He had never been kissed like that before, and he wanted to do it over and over again. He blew out a breath, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He had more self control as a bloody teenager. "That's not the point."

Hank grinned the biggest toothy smile that Charlie had ever seen from him. "That's one hundred and ten percent the point. I know she's into you- even if you are a total wanker."

"She didn't say anything after." Or try to do it again, his subconscious added unhelpfully. "For all I know, she could've felt cornered."

Hank barked a laugh. "You're kidding, right? That wild thing could'a kicked your ass if she wanted to."

Deep down Charlie knew that was true, but he also knew that (Y/N) had a soft spot and just might not have wanted to hurt his feelings. Her quick dismissal of him offering to help reverberated in his head. "What if I've screwed everything up?"

"Here's a crazy idea- if you're so damn worried about it, why don't you try talking to her instead of me?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Hank despite knowing the forty-three year old was right. With a sigh, Charlie forced himself off the bench, slowly making his way to (Y/N)'s porch and praying he didn't mess up their friendship.

A knock on (Y/N)'s door made her freeze at the kitchen sink. After scouring through her books for that stupid spell, she managed to fix her sweater and was now rinsing out her tea mug. Her heart thumped nervously and she cleared her throat. "Come in."

She fumbled with the mug as the door creaked open behind her and wondered what the odds of it being Hank or Scott were. Or Felix or Dave. Hell, she'd probably even take Sydney right now. Setting the cup in the sink, she turned around and her stomach plummeted. They apparently weren't good enough.

"Hey," Charlie said, shutting the door quietly. He could hardly look at her. His eyes flicked around the room, just barely jumping up to meet hers, and he hadn't moved past the first chair at the dining room table. He looked more uncomfortable than (Y/N) had ever seen and her heart cracked open in response. She didn't want him to feel that way.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked with a smile, picking up a dish towel to dry off her hands. She could ignore the elephant in the room.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but her tone must have resonated with him on some level because his stiff posture eased and he stepped a fraction closer. "Uh, are we- I mean are you… okay?"

She could see the concern in his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat in response. Even though he was clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed, he was asking if she was okay. How could she not be head over heels for him?

"Yeah, of course," she answered, taking the time to fold the towel and set it neatly on the counter before turning back to face him. She hoped her casual tone said, Why wouldn't I be?

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the soft red strands away from his face, and a horrible thought entered (Y/N)'s brain before she could stop it: Why hadn't she done that?

The thought of touching Charlie's hair as they kissed left (Y/N)'s face flaming with embarrassment. Averting her eyes only made the situation worse, however, because she realized she was still wearing his shirt. She had changed into leggings in place of her jeans but didn't take off his damn shirt. He was going to think she was mental.

Charlie took another step forward, now leaving only two dining chairs left between them. "Look, about earlier…"

"You don't have to do this," she interrupted, glancing at him again. "It really isn't a big deal. We can pretend it never happened if that's what you want."

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, and (Y/N) watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "What if I don't want that?"

Chills scattered down (Y/N)'s entire body and she gripped the chair in front of her for support. She couldn't have heard him right. This was the off-limits dragon lover that had been single for years. She must've misheard him. "What?" Her voice was as unstable as her legs were.

"Look, I know I'm not good at this," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "In fact, I'm probably just about as rubbish as you can get. But I fancy you, (Y/N). A lot."

(Y/N)'s lips parted and the wild pulse in her throat was nearly all she could concentrate on. She tried to speak, but his words made her head dizzy and mouth dry. Ginny was right? He… he liked her too?

Charlie's face was beat red now as he took one final step forward. "And I was wondering if… if we could be more than just friends."

(Y/N) tried to calm her rampant heartbeat, and it wasn't until Charlie cleared his throat that she realized how long she had merely been staring at him, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Charlie looked down at the floorboards beneath his feet, his expression turning stony. "But I completely understand if you don't think of me in that way. Or if my… lack of dating experience is-"

(Y/N) surged forward before he had a chance to finish that ridiculous sentence, wrapping her hands behind his neck and crashing her mouth against his. Charlie stumbled a little to catch his balance, letting out a raspy breath before his arm slid around her waist and he kissed her back, sending (Y/N)'s heart into overdrive. He pulled her closer and she tangled her fingers into his hair like she wanted to earlier, feeling like her whole world was complete.

Their fevered kisses faded down to delicate and when they slowly pulled back for air, (Y/N) could feel Charlie's warm, ragged breath on her lips. "Is that a yes?"

Reality struck (Y/N) like an earthquake as her promise to Ginny echoed inside her head. Easing down from her tiptoes, she rubbed her face, feeling the overwhelming bliss diminishing inside her. "Shit. I- I don't know."

"What's wrong?" Charlie asked, his brown eyes searching hers. "Is it the team? I'll make sure Hank keeps his comments to himself if that's what you're worried about."

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's not that. I just- I don't think it would be fair to you." The words cut her to the core. Life had never been this cruel to her.

Charlie didn't look angry or annoyed- he looked concerned. "Why not?"

She turned away from his gorgeous face, ashamed, heartbroken, and angry. "Charlie… There are things you don't know about me. Things you can't know."

He seemed to consider this. "Does this have to do with why you've moved around so much?"

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip.

"Why can't you tell me?"

Despite her trust issues, a part of her knew that wasn't it. As much as (Y/N) tried to fight it, as much as her past experiences told her not to, she really did trust the redhead every bit as much as Penny, Barnaby, Rowan and Jae. "It's too dangerous."

The corner of his mouth twitched the slightest bit. "More dangerous than being a Dragonologist?"

She nodded, trying to convince herself more so than the redhead. She knew him too well to think danger would scare him away.

He was now in front of her, the tips of their boots nearly touching. "What if I care about you more than my safety?"

Her nerve endings crackled like static, and it took every ounce of her self control not to touch him. "I- I refuse to put you or your family at risk. I just can't." Her lip trembled at the mere thought. She couldn't handle being responsible for anyone getting in trouble because of her. Charlie's dad worked for the Ministry for Merlin's sake. He could lose his job.

"Did you do something bad?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N)'s heart weighed down with heaviness as she considered how to answer. "People think I did," she finally whispered.

"But did you?"

She shook her head, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. She hoped to Merlin that he believed her. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't.

“Ah." He nodded slowly. "I think I’m starting to piece together the whole Sirius Black obsession.”

That made (Y/N) laugh- a pathetic, hollow laugh that caught in the back of her throat. “Pretty stupid, right? It’s not like that story has even a remotely happy ending.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to suppress all the conflicting emotions she felt. “Don’t you get it? There’s no happy ending for me. There’s no case for my innocence, I’m just a fugitive to catch. They may come after me again, and if you know what happened, they’ll say you were involved in it. I can’t have that on my conscious.”

"There’s one thing you’re not accounting for," he said, leaning his face closer to hers.

(Y/N) glanced up at him, but her voice was still overruled by defeat. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

Charlie smiled, clearly accepting the challenge. “You probably picked the only career where we could care less what the Ministry thinks.”

“They’re our government, Charlie. You really expect me to believe wizards here don’t care about the Ministry of Magic?”

He looked genuinely surprised by her response, as if he expected her to know better. “Do you know why reserves like this even exist?”

She waited for him to answer, sensing the question was rhetorical, and the frown forming on Charlie’s face told (Y/N) the subject made him upset.

“It’s because wizards like Newt Scamander stuck up for the safety and preservation of all creatures, even the XXXXX category. In the Ministry’s eyes, dragon’s are probably the largest nuisance in the wizarding world. They’re massive, loud, and lethal. Bloody terrible to conceal from muggles and untamable. If they had it their way, most of these creatures would likely be killed and sold for parts.”

An unpleasant knot yanked on (Y/N)’s heartstrings at the thought of losing any of these dragons. “No… they wouldn’t do that. I mean sure, maybe decades ago when we didn’t know as much, but they have to feel differently now, right?”

“Some of them do, sure,” Charlie conceded. “But we still get hassled about our work when they visit. Some badger us about our numbers, demanding if we really need this many. Some suggest expediting mother nature when one falls ill or grows old. Like I said- to them, dragons are a headache. They make up a large portion of what makes their lives miserable when an accident happens and they have to repair the damage.” He leaned his forehead against hers and brought a hand up to stroke her cheek. "So would you stop worrying about protecting me? Because I don't really give a damn what the Ministry thinks and I'd really like to kiss you again."

And just like that, (Y/N)'s entire resolve crumpled, and she kissed Charlie Weasley like her life depended on it.

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