#i rarely have encounters like this but i'm sure other sisters have it worse and they are TIRED

[navramanan]

:/

[just-a-strange-boy]

better strangers - part 3

part 1 * part 2 * part 4

Stephen and you stopped being strangers a while ago. The arrangement of continuing to have sex behind your sister's back has been nothing but satisfying - well, until some troublesome thoughts finally catch up on you. One question in particular arises: what exactly are you to one another?

Pairing: Stephen Strange x ftm!reader

Warnings: mature rating (implied sexual content, caught in the act), mature language, cheating and the endorsement of cheating, angst / hurt, mentions of break-up

A/N: sooooo... I guess I've been inspired to continue the idea of better strangers and if I'm suffering watching (and of course, writing) these two fools interact with each other and be miserable, you're definitely going to suffer with me! this one gets pretty angsty and I felt it down to my core, getting major flashbacks to one of my situationships... it gets worse before it gets better though. right? RIGHT?

“Do you love her?”

The question had been tormenting you for a while now, but whenever you had meant to ask Stephen that your tongue seemed to be as heavy as lead and you had swallowed down your words instead.

It was a subject you never approached, considering you were in no position to ask, no matter how much the thought irked you.

You were dreading an answer to this exact question too, because what if he said that he did? He couldn't, could he? Who loved their partner and still chose to cheat on them? Especially with their sibling.

You didn't quite understand why else he would stay with her. Why didn't he just break up with her? What was the driving force behind him continuing this relationship if it was not what he wanted in the first place?

He didn't need to be with your sister in order to see you. It would have been a lot easier without her in the picture. If he couldn't come around anymore because of your sister, you sure would have found your way around his, not wanting to lose what you had.

Was it possible that he, as insatiable as he was, wanted you both? Would it be okay for you if that were to be the truth, forever sharing Stephen with your sister? You weren't so sure how to feel about this thought either, especially after just being so intimate with Stephen, and it didn't help your confusion that you could never quite figure out his intentions.

Your little arrangement had been going on for about two months now and still escaping your sister's radar. She was so oblivious, downright stupid, for not seeing what was going on behind her back, because it wasn't like you were being so seriously secretive all the time.

Did she not notice the lingering glances, the playful teasing, the innocent but frequent touches you shared? Did she not question why Stephen was so insistent on coming around the apartment instead of inviting her more often to his? Did she not see how regularly you ended up with love bites and mussed up hair, flushed with heat, especially after Stephen had been around you?

Admittedly, the two of you had been growing more bold with time. The risky behavior ensured you just the thrill you needed.

In the beginning you had been careful, tiptoeing around the fact that this was happening in the first place because it was so forbidden, and only decided to fuck when there was a one-hundred percent guarantee she was not going to come home anytime soon.

But the more often you had sex, the more daring your encounters had become. On rare occasions, Stephen had been in your bed when he should have been in your sisters. Plenty of times, you might have slipped into the bathroom to join him while your sister was most definitely at home – luckily the door locked and you had learned to keep really quiet.

Generally no room in the house was safe – you had defiled the kitchen counter, the couch, the wall in the corridor, the windowsill in the living room, and your sister's bed.

You'd let yourself be bend over and taken anywhere Stephen liked. He made sure to give you what you wanted. He was relentlessly horny and you loved it, because he matched your sex drive. Not to mention, the sex was always great too.

The reason why you were doing it in the first place was just that. That's all there was. Right?

It was just sex and nothing more. It was sex, because the two of you were apparently both obsessed with getting off and the way your bodies responded to one another was as if they were constructed to be in all kinds of positions together. It felt so natural, as if you were meant to be.

The physical attraction was hard to deny anyways. Stephen was hot. You were certain the feeling was mutual. Something about you seemed to get him going like crazy.

While you suspected it might be because fucking someone who was trans was a completely different, perhaps even thrilling experience some might fetishize, you tried to have some faith in Stephen. He didn't seem to be that kind of person.

It couldn't be that he just did it for the kick, because if he were only interested in your type of body, he could have chosen any other transman to fuck. But it had to be you, regardless of you being related to his girlfriend.

And now, after these months of being carelessly horny and going at each other like wild animals, doubts finally seemed to set in, overtaking your thoughts constantly.

You had barely been able to relax today, even though Stephen had been nothing but gentle, laying you out atop your own bed, his mouth and hands wanting to treat you to pleasure. He had tried and it had felt good - Stephen and whatever he did to you always felt so good – but you had failed to achieve an orgasm, your head so unbelievably full of worries it was hard to concentrate.

What if all this was indeed just for his personal kick?

What if he had no genuine interest in the person you were? What if it was only your body he desired, because of the way it was? You had never questioned his sexuality, but not actually knowing... the thought made you oddly dysphoric.

What if it wasn't you at all, but the danger of this situation? The danger of being discovered, doing something so forbidden. What if that gave him the necessary kick of adrenaline? Was it really just sex for him? Was it really just sex for you?

Because you wouldn't be having these thoughts, constantly asking yourself these ridiculous questions, if that wasn't the case.

The sex had come first, the excitement of fucking a stranger had gotten you hooked. Then, as soon as you had gotten to know him, a genuine fascination in his person had followed. Everything he was had pulled you in like magic, and there was something between the two of you that you still weren't able to describe.

Of course, initially trying to resist him before finally giving in had caused you to get carried away with desire. All of the sudden you couldn't get enough. You always seemed to want more and more.

It wasn't just purely sexual, what you felt. All of Stephen simply appealed to you. He was charming, usually kind, but a bit of an arrogant asshole when he wanted to be. He was attentive and smart, pleasant to be around. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, the way the simplest touch seemed to awaken butterflies in your stomach... It was making all of this much harder.

You had feelings for Stephen, that much you knew, and you found yourself so attached to him, the idea of letting him go was frightening. Ending your arrangement would definitely hurt you. But staying in the same spot forever, only partially allowed to have him, didn't sound any less heartbreaking.

Could Stephen ever like you though? Did it matter whether he did or not? Did he like you already?

There had to be more to it, on his side too. You allowed yourself to imagine as much at least, judging Stephen's behavior and the way he treated you sometimes.

He wouldn't have bothered laying in bed with you, letting you curl up to him and keeping a protective arm wrapped around you, even though it had been an entirely unsatisfactory experience for the two of you today. He wouldn't have bothered to press gentle kisses to your head and hold onto you so tightly.

You were cuddling. That's when you had asked.

His reaction was imminent, he turned his head towards you and ever so slightly scoffed. “That's what you choose to think about while we are in bed naked together?”

He lifted an eyebrow at you, played it off with a smile. Had it bothered him that you had asked? Certainly only the tip of the iceberg after not being able to cum or actually having sex for that matter. You had gotten to the point of undressing, having his hands or mouth on you, but no further.

“It's just... I wanna know. Not that it would change anything...”, you mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. You were afraid of the answer he was going to give, if he was going to give you one. Afraid he might not take this serious and ridicule you for having insecurities about this – while he was literally in your bed.

Because it was ridiculous, wasn't it?

“If it won't change anything, then why does it matter to you?”, was all Stephen responded. There was no annoyance swinging in his voice. A large hand brushed through your hair. He spoke your name then, gently, appeasing.

“Would I be here with you if I did? Love her?”

He did have a point there. You looked back at him, crossing his gaze – softened, ocean blue eyes that always managed to pull you in. You were so hooked on him and he probably didn't even understand. How could he be so mesmerizing, entrancing you with only a simple look, entirely captivating?

How could he hold so much power over you, to the point where you had decided to ignore all morality, all of that blood is thicker than water bullshit, all of that bad consciousness?

“Why are you with her? If you don't love her... why not break up? Why be here with me?”

You should have stopped questioning things.

Usually your sister was never a topic between the two of you. Didn't really fit in while you were fucking and you wouldn't have wanted to ruin the little time together you had. You had never voiced any concerns over it or her feelings for that matter – you didn't ask him now, because you started caring about the role your sister played in all of this.

You cared about Stephen and having him.

“Why does it matter? As long as I am with her, I can be around you as often as I want. I'd say that's a pretty good deal”, he seemed unfazed, “Are you having second thoughts about this?”

“No.” You weren't worried about your sister or your arrangement and if you could keep on hiding that from her. You were insecure, in a way perhaps even upset, because you were jealous.

Why was it so unfair? It could have all been so easy – he could have broken up with her and been with you instead. She wouldn't have to know it was you he had chosen over her. And even if... it was about time you moved out anyways.

But you had a good feelings that this wasn't as serious to Stephen as it was to you. Perhaps a conversation had been long due.

“But that sounds like if you weren't with her... you wouldn't bother doing this with me either. It's not like you have to be with her in order to have sex with me”, you continued, “Like... hit me up, give me a call... you needn't come here. I could come to yours. We could still hook up.”

If there was time and space to share your honest thoughts on the matter, this was it. You weren't drunk on passion or being sappy in the afterglow. In this moment of insecurity you wanted nothing more than clarity.

“So it does bother you.” You didn't like the way he was smirking at you, like he was somehow proud of the fact he had just discovered that. Like he wasn't concerned about it at all. So indifferent, amused, enjoying your jealously that was growing a little more evident.

“Yes, it does.”

And it was completely fine that it bothered you, wasn't it? You were not beyond having feelings and definitely not beyond jealously, especially knowing that you had no claim to the man while your sister did. You just couldn't blame him or anyone in the world for feeling the way you did. You had very well gotten yourself into this.

Still it pained you to learn he didn't take it all too serious, that maybe he didn't actually care for you or your feelings. It was only the sex that mattered – and he had chosen you as his object of desire, that was all you were.

Though he could have had anyone. Who was to say that he didn't? He fucked you behind your sister's back. What if he fucked others as well, people you both didn't know about? What was stopping him from sleeping around, if even being committed didn't seem to hold him back?

It was not your place to care. He wasn't anyone to you, of course not the stranger he used to be – but still just a mere acquaintance, your sister's boyfriend, someone you had a sexual arrangement with. Not a thing more.

With a sigh, he ruffled your hair. The gesture made you feel like nothing more than a silly child, even though he probably meant to console you, in a way he deemed fitting.

“Don't think so much, pretty boy”, he shrugged it off, “Look, I'm having sex with you because I want to. We both want to and it's fucking amazing sex. That's all. I don't care that you're her brother. Your relation to her was a lucky coincidence and it worked out well for us, didn't it? Things are fine the way they are right now and I don't want them to change.”

“Are they though? Fine?”, you wondered, surprised how snappy these words sounded coming from your lips, and eventually withdrew from his hold, sitting up next to him.

You felt upset with Stephen all of the sudden, though you weren't exactly in a position to expect anything. He was a cheater. You enabled it. Your arrangement was about sex. He owed you nothing.

So why would you be so silly as to expect some compassion from him right now? Yet it pained you that he was being so indifferent.

“If your relationship with my sister is just fine, then why are we even fucking around in the first place? Why bother being unfaithful if you didn't even have to be?”

“That does sound like you want me to break up with her”, Stephen acknowledged. The expression on his face had shifted, hardened. He ended up giving you a weary look, not trying to reach out and pull you back, “So it does make a difference to you. Whether I'm with her or not.”

“Of course, it does”, you admitted.

He let out another huff. He began ridiculing you, judging by the tone in his voice and the way he ever so slightly rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't tell me you only now start to realize what's wrong with all this. I think it's a bit too late to develop a consciousness when we've been fucking around for two months.”

“I just don't understand”, you muttered under your breath, feeling very small, because you knew he was right and it was wrong to expect anything from his side, other things that were not included in your arrangement, including serious feelings.

Why start to second guess things now? Wasn't just having sex good enough? You had willingly betrayed your sister, all because of the man before your eyes. You had always been convinced you were on the same page as Stephen, but right now... right now, your view on the situation couldn't have been any different.

“I don't understand why you would stay with her, if you don't want this relationship. Why be with someone you don't love?”, you asked another time, knowing that he was not going to give you an answer, not now, perhaps not ever.

Stephen followed you suit, eventually sitting up on the bed as well. He looked at you for a long moment, his expression entirely unreadable now, but he seemed like he was searching for something on your face in return.

Then he spoke up. “Who cares about love, honestly? We're not fucking for love. I'm not with your sister for love. But I guess you wouldn't understand it. So please, don't wreck your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

For the first time, you got to see an entirely different Stephen. Cold and dismissive.

In all your time together, he had never been so cruel to you. His words rendered you speechless and you could only watch with a deep, burning pain inside your chest as Stephen climbed out of your bed and started to pick his clothing off the floor without another word.

He was going to leave. Not because your sister would be home anytime soon, not because he had to leave for work. But because you and your questioning had driven him away. He fled your inquiries and avoided to give you any more answers, no matter how much he knew it would pain you. He'd rather walk away than letting himself be pressured by your questions.

You had pushed it. Stephen didn't like being pushed.

Maybe an apology would have done. Another word, anything. But it was just an awkward silence settling over the two of you while he got dressed.

You didn't want to seem desperate, so you wouldn't beg him to stay. You never begged him for anything, outside of your sexual experiences. Never had to. Stephen did as he pleased and usually that co-aligned with what you wanted.

If he wanted to leave, you'd let him. Might be better if he did anyways. You couldn't even really look him in the eye at the moment, disappointment devouring your heart.

You threw the comforter over your naked form, watching him, so many things still running through your head, things you were too cowardly to ask or to say. All of them circled back to the impression you had gotten - he didn't really care about you. He wanted the sex, that's why he came to you. That's what the arrangement was about. Sex. Anything outside of that didn't matter.

There were no feelings involved, not on his side. Why should there be?

“I'll see you on Wednesday”, Stephen stated, closing his belt, then tugging on his shirt a few more times before seeming satisfied with the state of his clothing. He grabbed his things from the nightstand and headed for the door, only paying you another look, the most disappointing goodbye you had gotten in a while. Or ever, for that matter.

“Yeah... yeah, right, see you”, you nodded towards him, though by then he was long out of earshot. He'd left as quickly as he could have possibly done.

But you knew he'd be back. It wasn't like he ever stayed away for long. Because he couldn't.

Your sister would invite him over for dinners, unaware of all the things going on around her. Even if she wouldn't, Stephen had always been capable of finding another excuse to pop by, a surprise visit at times. And even if she weren't around, he would probably still dare to come by to seek you out. That's how things usually were.

You didn't understand anything anymore.

•

Wednesday came around quicker than you'd expected. Not that the last few days had been exceptionally pleasant for you. Between working your usual day job, tormented by other people pestering you with their issues over the phone, and constantly having to think about Stephen – his behavior, his words, his...ugh, just everything – there wasn't a single minute you found yourself capable of relaxing.

You hated it. All of it.

The fact that Stephen had waltzed into your life this way, and not any other way. The fact that he had been with your sister and you had still wanted him. Even more so, the fact you had gotten him while he still was with your sister – and how you hadn't felt any remorse about it.

The fact you were being such an asshole and a liar, dared to look your sister in the eye while fucking her boyfriend behind her back, and still expected to get something nice in return.

But perhaps most of all, you hated the fact that it hurt you. That you had feelings for someone like Stephen in the first place. That you let him fuck you, now knowing it was entirely meaningless to him. That you would still rather have him this way than not have him at all.

When had you become so obsessed with him?

Your head was a mess. You couldn't think straight or sort out your feelings much. There was no one to talk to about this. Even your best friends would have looked at you in disbelief. Even they would have resented you for doing this. Even they would have called you for your horrible behavior.

Stephen had been right. It was too late to worry about morality now. You were as much of an asshole as he was and all you felt now, all the heartache and fear and regret, was what you deserved.

Stephen didn't have anything to fear.

You could have ended the arrangement and stopped having sex with him altogether – he would not need to bother. Plenty of fish in the sea.

You would not be able to tell your sister without ruining your relationship with her – and you sure as hell didn't want to be thrown out of your apartment without another place to stay.

You couldn't have possibly snitched on him because you were just as bad, and since you weren't able to tell anyone, he was not going to suffer any consequences.

So maybe ending the arrangement would make sense, for your own good and because you overstepped the boundaries with all your feelings. Forget about it. Let Stephen do whatever he wanted and accept the heartache. Learn the lesson and do it the hard way. It was what you deserved. He wouldn't care enough to run after you and you wouldn't ask him to.

But he would still be your sister's boyfriend and you'd forever know he had cheated on her with you. You'd forever look at him like you did now.

Admiring. Yearning. Hurting.

You dreaded coming home from work on Wednesday, because you knew as soon as you stepped into that apartment, he'd be there and act all loving around your sister, but still dare to look at you like he wanted to devour you when he had the chance. Or maybe he wouldn't, changing things up for a while, looking at your sister the same way, especially where you could see it, if only to get you raging with jealousy.

You would. You'd be furious and still want to mount him.

Maybe that's why you decided to walk home instead of taking the subway, killing more time like this rather than having to be around them. But you knew that you had to get home eventually – the apartment was your place just as much as your sister's, you were dying to get some good rest in your bed after this day and you didn't want Stephen Strange to be the reason to keep you away from it.

Though perhaps you should have better crashed at a friend's for today.

Making your way through the front door, as quietly as you could in chance of sneaking to your room unnoticed and perhaps even avoiding their attention altogether, you hadn't really expected having to bear witness to this.

You couldn't believe it – didn't even have to see it to know what was going on. The noises told you enough. The smack of skin, the familiar low groans of Stephen paired with whimpers and moans of pleasure which could only stem from your sister.

You wanted a hole to open up in the ground right away and swallow you whole. You wanted to disappear. Really.

But instead of escaping the situation again, getting away from this, leaving altogether, you just stayed put. You stood there, lost within yourself, listening to them. The feeling of dread settled low in your stomach, your heart was burning a hole in your chest, the noises were drowned out by the sudden droning of your ears, and as if that wasn't worse enough by itself, tears began to well in your eyes.

Silly boy. Thinking he would care about you. Thinking he would not bother with your sister anymore, because he had you. Thinking he would stay away from her, for you.

No, of course he didn't. He was fucking her in the same way he was fucking you. Because he could.

With careful steps you padded through the hall. You should have looked straight ahead, not bothering to look into the living room, because you wouldn't have needed to. You already knew they were fucking on the couch, even without having to check.

Maybe he did it all on purpose. Knowing you'd be home any time, Stephen could have simply worked his charm on your sister and convinced her to fuck him like this. For the thrill. To prove to you this was just a game for him. To mock you.

Maybe you should have thrown a fit. Barged into the living room to interrupt them, just so Stephen would look and finally see how much he hurt you, just so your sister would be embarrassed and ashamed, just so this would end.

But you didn't. For a split second you lingered in the doorway and glanced over.

Their naked bodies entwined, when it should have been you on top of him. Her head buried in his shoulder, when it should have been you, pressing your face into crook of his neck, taking in his wonderful smell. His hands digging into her soft flesh, when it should have been you he held onto and touched. But it wasn't.

Then, Stephen's eyes fell onto you, as if he knew you'd be there to lock gazes.

Without seizing his motions or stopping the groans slipping past his lips, he looked at you. Your sister was mussing up his hair and continuously rode him, too busy with chasing her own pleasure while he continued to look at you. For as long as you stood there, he kept on looking at you and you didn't understand why he did what he did or what he might think or why either of you found it hard to look away again.

Not that it mattered.

As all of your vision ended up consumed with tears, you turned your head and moved on, slipping into your bedroom, letting the door softly fall into its lock behind you, picked up your headphones and slumped down on your bed. Once you pressed play and closed your eyes, you tried to shut out all of it.

The noises, the pictures and most of all the heartache. But it was ridiculous and useless. It would have never worked. Because you and Stephen had played a dangerous game. You had fallen hard for him, all he was. This was the price you paid for your stupidity.

You began to cry.

Lord knew for how long you had been there, bawling your eyes out over a man you had willingly use you and used in return, a man you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable with because you had trusted him, someone you had hoped would perhaps develop actual feelings for you. But it was all for nothing.

Sex was all there was and all that ever would be between you. That and the downward spiral of developing feelings for someone you couldn't have. And now the realization of how stupid you had been to have something like hope.

You hadn't heard the knock to your door and found yourself more than just startled by the sudden dip of your bed, your eyes shooting open, downright flinching. Though you weren't all that surprised when you realized it was Stephen. Could have expected that, him coming to see and talk to you.

He placed a hand on your arm and no matter how much you would have liked to pull away to get away from him, you'd much rather have his touch on you than lack it altogether. It hurt though. It hurt to know how he had just touched your sister, and so much more intimately, and was now coming onto you, seemingly gentle.

He motioned for you to take off your headphones with his free hand. You did.

“Hey”, he greeted you. The tone of his voice could have whittled away on your sadness, your disappointment, any other time. But it wasn't enough now, with the picture of them on the couch in the back of your head and his words from your last conversation repeating themselves like a broken record.

You didn't need him to play nice now. Whatever he was going to say, was just going to leave more damage.

“Can't you just leave me alone, Stephen?”, you asked, rubbing dried tears off your cheeks. You were fine with letting him know that you had cried – but didn't want to talk to him about it. Didn't have to make it worse than it already was. Didn't need him to humiliate you any further.

You had seen and heard enough to know where he stood. He knew where you stood with your feelings now as well.

“I could, if you really wanted me to. But I had a feeling that maybe you... maybe we should talk?”, he approached you calmly. He could have tried doing this days ago and you would have been amenable. But he had been dismissive. He had left. He hadn't cared. Why did he bother now?

Of course, he was likely feeling guilty right now. That you had seen him like this. That he had driven you to tears with his behavior. It's not like it was an apology. Not that you'd deserve one either.

“Oh, and now is the right time?”, you said a little more pointed. That's how it usually was – sadness and despair first, then disappointment and raw frustration setting in. As much as being angry with Stephen was not the way to go, you couldn't help it. You were so devastated.

Stephen shrugged, but still tried to appease you. He was keeping his hand on your arm and you still didn't pull away. “Your sister's asleep, so it's the perfect opportunity for having a chat. I wanna address what you saw, at least. Besides that, I think there's a lot we should have talked about a while ago.”

It dawned on you how you had no idea what time it was. Some of it must have passed between you finding them fucking, curling up in your bed and him approaching you like this. One look to the bedside clock told you it was late, a little after nine. Had you really laid here and cried that long?

Made sense though, that Stephen was coming for you now, since your sister wasn't able to develop any suspicions while being asleep. The fact alone made a jealous fire burn in the pit of your stomach. Fucking your sister had been more important to him than you. Only after being done with her, he could move on onto you.

Did he really only get it now, after you saw them like this, that you needed to have a conversation?

“Good for her. Good for you too. You seemed very happy fucking her brains out. Did you think about the fact that maybe I don't wanna talk to you after seeing that?”

“Why are you in such a mood now? Yes, I had sex with her. It doesn't mean anything that I did. It's what people in relationships do and it's not like it's news I'm having sex with her”, Stephen spoke rather defensively, “It never bothered you before and it doesn't change the fact that I still desire you, so I don't know why that's such a big deal all of the sudden. Yes, it sucks that you came home while we were at it. I would have rather not have you see that, but shit happens.”

It wasn't that his words weren't right, but they still offended you. His careless wording, the tone of his voice, everything from the hard look in his eyes, his hand on your arm in the meanwhile... You just felt very disappointed.

“Everything is just so meaningless to you, isn't it?”, you huffed and the way you rapidly sat up on the bed caused him to take his hand off you. He didn't try to touch you again afterwards.

It had never quite hurt so badly before and you had never felt such a strong urgency to tell him how much of a dick he was being.

“Why'd you do this today? You knew I'd come home. We'll see each other on Wednesday, that's what you said mere days ago. You knew I might be around to see it and you still did it!”

Stephen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, swallowed down a sigh perhaps.

“I didn't really think about it and it just happened, okay? It wasn't out of spite or anything. I didn't fuck her there, because I wanted to hurt you... I would never do that”, he pointed out, “We just got into it, went a little too far, I guess. That still doesn't explain why are you making such a drama out of this?”

“Because you don't care”, you accused him, not minding the tone of your voice or that your sister next door could have woken up by the noise and heard you arguing. You weren't speaking quietly and anyone hearing your words could have suspected you were having relationship issues. It only reminded you even more that he wasn't your boyfriend.

“You don't care about either of us. As long as it gets your dick wet, you don't have to worry. It works just well for you, yeah, so why change a thing? One sibling isn't good enough, so why not just fuck the both of us? And why? Because it doesn't matter to you at all.”

It was very evident that Stephen didn't like what you were accusing him of. He didn't like you complaining. His expression was stern, a nervous twitch of his eye displaying how he was being bothered just now.

“It's not like we have to have sex. If you want to stop, just say it. I'd respect that”, he tried to calm you though, “But you consented to this arrangement as much as I did. You always wanted the sex as much as I did. We can end it, if it's getting too much for you.”

“It's just lovely to know what we have doesn't mean a single thing to you”, you snapped right back at him, unable to repress your fury anymore.

“That's not true.”

“Is it not?”

“If it didn't mean anything, do you really think I would have been risking it all just to get myself laid outside of my relationship all this time?” He was visibly gritting his teeth now, the clench of his jaw indicating that you were angering him too.

“Would I have come onto you for just a bit of fun? Because I think with my cock? Do you have any idea how much it sucks to me that it has to be you? That you're her brother? Do you know it would be so much easier if you were anyone else in the fucking world?”

“Well, how do you think I feel?”, you hissed back at him, though after your uprising anger, it was now more so despair ruling over you again.

“It sucks that you have to be her boyfriend. I hate it so much. I'm so fucking jealous, because I don't want it to be her you're with. And I don't wanna stop this with you. But it hurts so much to know that I'm just a dirty little secret. To see you with someone else, when I just want to be with you. Can't you see that?”

Apparently he could though now.

“Is that why you've been so off lately?”, he asked. There was this tone in his voice again. A smile of uncertainty. Ridiculing you. “You're not seriously saying you're having feelings for me?”

“It doesn't matter anyways, Stephen. I get it. It means nothing to you what I think and you've made very sure to prove that”, you dismissed him, “It was not the point of the arrangement that I develop feelings for you. We didn't make it for that. Only the sex.”

“Because that was what we both wanted.”

“But what is it that you really want? You want her? Is it about the thrill of fucking around? Fucking someone who is like me?” The thought still stung, but you couldn't help it. Your insecurity was driving you mad and every feeling was pouring out of you. “Is it because I've been so willing to let you do whatever you want to me? How fucking convenient she's related to such a slut like me, the perfect little whore for you. Pliant and easy and available whenever.”

Stephen rolled his eyes at you. The way his chest rose and sunk you could see he was getting worked up about this too. “Oh, stop talking about yourself like that! I don't understand where you're coming from now. I thought we were on the same page about our arrangement. It was so uncomplicated with you.”

“Well, it's not anymore!”, you finally spoke the truth out loud. Because that's how things were. Feelings complicated everything. All that time you had never once thought about the probability of this happening to you. But it was very real right now.

“This was never gonna have a good ending”, you added, staring him down the way he did with you.

Stephen scoffed. He seemed a little helpless though, not knowing what to respond. “I can't give you what you want. I couldn't be that. I'm not good at it. Feelings. You know I'm not”, he seemed to bite back on his own anger, ending up reasoning with himself and with you.

But it didn't change a single thing.

“Yeah, I know as much now.” And it was up to you to end the arrangement, now or never.

“You have to understand... I didn't want to make it seem like it...”, he began again and while you later thought perhaps it would have been wise to hear him out, you didn't want him to say any more now.

“I don't wanna hear it. You've said enough. Just leave me alone”, you interrupted him and for the flicker of a moment noticed how he wavered - his face threatened to fall, a small frown appearing, not having expected to hear that out of all things. Perhaps you could have mistaken it as insecurity or regret. But you cared too little about what he was feeling right now, pained by your own heartache and needing to make a choice you didn't like, but knew was necessary.

“Is that what you want then? End the arrangement?”, Stephen asked, his tone entirely neutral, and his features hardened again, “Cause that's what I'm hearing.”

“Yes. We're over. It's done.”

“But come on, please... you've got to know that I...”, he tried to approach you in a softer and gentler way again, and you hated he was even trying to reason with you in the first place, because it made you want to listen to him even more. But you simply couldn't allow yourself to.

So when he reached for your hand in an attempt to get through to you, you could only pull it out of his reach and refuse, your heart shattering into thousand little pieces when you saw momentary hurt flick over his face and the lump he swallowed down.

But you still did it, because you had to. “Stephen, just leave. Please”, you begged him now.

It was the only thing you were ever going to beg him for. The last thing you would ever request from him. The thing that hurt you the most – telling him to leave and watching him as he did.

[leighdoesitall]

12/23

It's not easy for me to stick with things. It's not easy for me to do most things. Sometimes, the most basic parts of life seem harder for me to do than that hardest parts of other people's lives. The interesting thing, though, is that when something really big and crazy happens--I'm cool as a cucumber.

My old therapist told me this is a part of CPTSD. Take a combat veteran. They are put in horrifying situations over and over for a good chunk of their early years. When you take them out of it and expect them to go back into civilian life, it's just not going to mesh easily.

I experienced a lot of things from early childhood that no child should have to experience. I know it. I know this well at this point. although it is still hard to admit. My parents drilled it into my head that others have it worse, so I shouldn't linger on the bad in my life.

of course they'd say that. most of my problems stemmed from them being actual insane people.

What a surprise though. I am now also an insane person. Spinning wheel and all that.

It's okay, though. Because you know what I have? A loving husband, 3 cool cats, and the best dog in the universe.

Sunshine, Aldi, DD, Beans

They're amazing.

My life is amazing.

I have a job that I love. I never thought that would be possible. I love my coworkers. I love my life. I do love my life.

Right now, I have decided to write because I'm having a T H I N G. I don't know what's going on. I think it's because of my health anxiety. Since Thursday, I've had a cold. I know it sounds stupid but I rarely get sick so even if it's a small thing, my health anxiety kicks in and just doesn't let up.

The other thing, i wonder, is if it's outstanding effects from going off medications. I went most of my life without medication. Sometimes I wonder if life was better before I went to therapy.

I really don't think so though. Because I was still having depressive episodes. Still having spacing out for long stretches of time after encountering a trigger.

Right now, the problem is my head is really fuzzy. Like completely disconnected from reality. I think I'm experiencing anxiety but I also feel like I'm feeling nothing and I'm confused and my brains are just mush basically. This is not fun. This is not fun at all. I don't like to drink. I don't like smoking weed. Christ I didn't even like the buzz that came from nicotine. I still don't know why I started smoking.

CBT would have me tell myself that yes...my head is very fuzzy to the point that I'm not sure what is happening. BUT I'm writing very clearly right now. I was just playing Skyrim up until about ten minutes ago. This is just a bad day. Bad days happen. I'm sick. I have a head cold. What happens when people get head colds? Surprise Surprise--their heads get a little foggy.

Bad things have happened to me. More good things have happened than bad, though, and I'm very lucky to get to have the amazing things I have in my life. But that's not just it. This didn't 'just happen'. I made this happen. I love my husband. I love my pets. I love my apartment. I love my job. I love all the things in our home. I love my sister. I love my best friend. I love all my internet friends. I fucking love ATEEZ. And I love myself.

I love myself because I care about others. I want to help others. I'm deeply empathetic. I like making other people laugh, and I love laughing. Horror is my favorite genre. I think it has something to do with the CPTSD tbh. Pretty sure it's a way to control the horror. I can just turn it off, if I really want to.

This week is going to be great. It's Christmas after all. This time of year is always hard for me, but that's okay. I'm going to enjoy it with my husband and pets that I love so much. I'll see my best friend who I love more than the world. I'll meet with a few of my online friends. I'll see my husband's family who I love and am thankful for. I'll tell my sister I love her.

Once Im breathing a little better, I'll start going to the gym upstairs. Nothing crazy. Bike, weights, yada yada. I'm gonna do it.

People pay good fucking money to feel as fucking high as I do when I spin out like this. I should ride the wave. It's not a bad thing. My brain does this when it needs a minute.

It really needs a minute.

In the past year I've gone through a shit ton of medications and sold my house and got my first apartment and got a new job and got a promotion and my husband was having a very hard time.

Everything is crazy.

It's okay to need to go a bit fuzzy sometimes.

Last week, I was so happy it almost hurt my face from how much I was smiling.

I think I'll feel that way next week too.

Thank you, Leigh. You're amazing. I love you. You work hard. You're smart and funny and fucking weird and I really really really love you and I'm so happy I get to be me, even if it hurts sometimes. So thank you. I'm excited to be back with the part of me that can see the sun past the clouds.

[whumpflash]

Ashes, Ashes 1: For the Good of Humanity

finally posting the first part! I don't have a set update schedule for this one, but I'll post when I can. This story as a whole will feature lab whump, gore, violence, a whumpee who's kind of an asshole, and whumpers who are kind of chill.

word count: 2,172

ingredients: monster hunting, some violence, guns

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"It's your first time, so I don't want you to run into the fray, but if one of them rushes you, go for the heart."

Nyra sat on the sofa, chin resting on her hand, and watched as her sister flipped through the vampire chapter of the family hunting guide. It was short, considering how many firsthand accounts and scientific analyses there were on vamps these days, but you didn't need many details for a hunt.

"Here." Faiza shoved the binder into her lap. "A list of their weaknesses. Memorize it."

Nyra gave the page a once-over, then closed the book with a snap. "I already know them all."

"List them then," her sister said, not even glancing back.

"Sunlight, silver, belladonna…" she let herself trail off.

"And? I thought you knew them all."

Nyra rolled her eyes. "I do, but the rest aren't that important."

"Anything can become important in the heat of the moment." Faiza flipped the book back open. "Read it," she said, then left the room.

Nyra blew a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. Happy birthday to me, she thought.

Not like she was surprised. Her family's lives practically revolved around hunting. Faiza acted like it was some kind of higher calling. But all it really meant was an endless chase. Forever trying to save the world from things that went bump in the night.

To make matters worse, both of Nyra's older sisters were good at it. Faiza was quick, strong, and probably starred in the scary bedtime stories monsters told their children. Eimaan, on the other hand, favored underhand tactics. Picking out weaknesses and crafting new methods.

And it was good that they were good, it was. It made her feel safe. It made her worry less if they were gone for hours, or even days. But it was a lot to live up to. Her mother had been a born hunter too, and her grandmother before. It was in her blood. The Khanh family had been dedicated to the slow war on the supernatural for centuries, a war Nyra wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be a part of.

But now that she was eighteen, it wasn't something she could hide from any longer.

She flipped idly from page to page, collections of drawings and facts and weaknesses that had been collected through generations of Khanhs and bound into one field guide by the girls' grandmother. Some of the monsters within the guide didn't even exist anymore. Some were so rare that Nyra could only hope to encounter one. But hoping to run into a deadly creature wasn't exactly acceptable. Especially considering they usually didn't get notified until the beast in question had already made a few kills.

"Alright, you ready?" Faiza leaned out from the doorway, sunglasses sitting on her head. "We definitely want this to be over before sunset."

"Yeah, I'm good to go." Nyra tucked the book under her arm and followed her sister to the beat up car outside.

With the money they made off of some of the bigger jobs, they could probably afford something nicer, but Faiza insisted that a nice car would only get damaged in a fight. Better to have something replaceable that you didn't feel bad about hitting a wererat or two with.

"Keep your guard up tonight," Faiza said as Nyra buckled up. "Word is, there's a dragon hiding out in town."

"A dragon?" Nyra glanced at the guide out of habit, but it was no use. She already knew everything that had been documented there, which wasn't a lot. Dragons had a tendency to avoid people. And when they did make themselves known, they hit hard and fast and deadly. Even if some lucky duck managed to kill one, they were nearly impossible to study, since they burned to ash within minutes of death. Dragon Covens were known to infiltrate kingdoms while polymorphed, sowing discontent and overthrowing rulers.

But the lone dragons were considered the most dangerous. They usually had nothing to lose.

The ride to the vamps' alleged hideout was a quiet one. Faiza usually got too focused to do much talking when it came to this sort of thing, and Nyra was too nervous to even want to ask questions. Though she certainly had plenty.

How many vampires did her sister suspect? Had Faiza ever had a close call with vamps? A situation she thought would be the end of it all? Did they have enough silver bullets?

Will I have to be the one to pull the trigger?

She shook off that last one. It was her first time, she was only here as backup, and to get an idea of how the typical hunt went. Sure, she might have to fend off a vampire or two, but that would be a last resort. She ignored the fact that there would always be more hunts. And someday, she would be expected to help.

As they came to a stop in front of an old warehouse, her heart rate picked up, her mind racing through everything that could go wrong–

"Hey," her sister said. "Don't freak out on me."

Nyra nodded, and Faiza gave her a small smile.

"It's a small den from what I've heard. It'll be quick, don't worry. Here. Remember what I said about aiming for the heart, but the head will work just as well." She put a pistol into Nyra's hands, and she gripped it tightly to try and hide the way they shook.

It wasn't the gun she was scared of; all three Khanh girls were well-versed in marksmanship. But she'd always been firing at paper targets, never something that was… was–

"Nyra."

She met her sister's eyes.

"I know this is… different. But you have to remember why we do this."

Nyra swallowed, holstering the weapon. "I… I know, it's to help people–"

"It's to protect people. It's to save people." She inclined her head toward the warehouse. "The only reason we got the call is because these guys attacked a college student last night. He's in the ICU now." She put a hand on her shoulder. "We want to prevent that, right?"

"Right." Nyra managed to nod, and her sister opened the car door, grabbing a few weapons of her own.

"Good. Now, I'm gonna go in there and hunt some vamps. All I want you to do is find some cover out here and watch the door. If you see any other vamps coming, let me know."

"And… what if you're in trouble?" Nyra asked.

"Then you run inside, guns blazing." A grin flashed across Faiza's face. "But I won't be. Don't worry."

"Okay." Nyra took a deep breath, opening the car door. "Okay. Let's do this."

Aside from the gun at her hip, it was relatively easy for Nyra to convince herself she wasn't on a monster hunting mission. As soon as Faiza disappeared into the warehouse, Nyra had backed off until she was hidden in some overgrown bushes that lined the cracked pavement. From here, it was quiet. Calm. She could listen to the birds and watch the door and just think until Faiza–

Snap!

Nyra's head whipped to her right, where the cracking sound had come from.

Probably nothing, right? Probably–

Snap!

Nyra clenched her fists, heart racing, as she willed whatever it was to go away, willed it to please, please not be a vampire. She drew her pistol carefully, and began edging her way back towards the lot, away from the noise.

But the noise kept coming. Toward her.

She could see a tall silhouette now, making its way through the hedge. As she looked at it, she swore whoever it was was looking right back at her.

"I see you! D-don't try anything! I have a gun!" She inhaled sharply. Stupid, stupid, get yourself together! "Come out into the open!"

After a second or two, a man in a black leather jacket stepped into the lot. Nyra levelled the weapon at him, taking a step closer. He was pale, with cherry-red hair that hung in his face just so, like he'd taken a long time styling it. His golden eyes were dangerously close to those of a vampire.

"This gun is loaded with silver. Don't. Move," she said. Faiza had said to warn her, but what was she supposed to do? Shout? 

"Who do you think you are, the vampire police?"

Nyra didn't answer. He grinned at her, a sharp, cocky expression that bared his fangs. But they looked somehow…different from a vampire's. —Not to mention he was standing in broad daylight without any visible protection…

Not a vampire, so what are you?

Nyra adjusted her grip on the pistol, circling the man.

"Do you actually know how to use that thing?" he quipped, crossing his arms.

"Wanna find out?" she shot back, trying to sound confident. He probably wasn't a witch... Maybe a fae? No, they had no reason to come to this little town, and she'd never heard of a fae having fangs like these.

He smirked, but didn't move. "Shoot me then."

It was possible he was a devil, but Nyra didn't think she'd ever seen a picture of a devil that looked so human. He couldn't be a were-anything if he wasn't afraid of the silver, so unless he was really good at bluffing, what…

Realization dawned on her as she remembered her sister's earlier warning.

"You… you're a dragon, aren't you?"

"Someone pays attention to her bedtime stories." He cocked his head. "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna forget you saw me, and I'm gonna walk out of here."

"Why would I let you do that?"

"If you don't, I'll shift into my true form and burn your cute little town to the ground." He said it so casually, a smile still on his face. Nyra didn't move, squeezing the handguard of her weapon.

"Well? You gonna step aside?"

Nyra shot him in the chest.

The gunshot brought Faiza running out of the warehouse. She looked down at the man, then up at her little sister.

"Nyra— what did you just do?" she shouted, a mixture of anger and fear. "Vamps are all inside, dead. Did you just–"

"He… he's not human," Nyra managed to get out. She realized she was still pointing her pistol at the fallen man, and quickly holstered it, moving towards him with halting steps.

"Nyra, you can't just–"

"Look." Nyra was pulling up his shirt. The wound was already starting to close. "Look at this… he, I think he's a dragon?"

Looking up, she saw her sister's face was ashen.

"A dragon? You just shot a dragon? What do you think is going to happen when he heals? He's not just going to let bygones be bygones, Nyra–"

"I panicked! I'm sorry! He said he'd burn down the town— oh stars, do you think he'll–?" she felt tears prick at her eyes, panic building in her chest.

"No…" Faiza said, then again, softer, "No, Nyra, don't freak out, we can… we can…" she trailed off.

Nyra clasped her hands together. The dragon was still unconscious, but how long would that last? And what would happen to them if he transformed? Could they just try and kill him now?

No, no of course not. No one really knew what it took to kill a dragon. Those who had succeeded in the past had only been lucky. And besides…

She glanced over his face, contorted in a grimace even now.

She didn't think she could pull the trigger even if she knew where to shoot. Dragon or no, a living, breathing person wasn't something she could just attack.

Unless I'm panicking, she thought ruefully, eyeing the gunshot wound in his chest. A twinge of remorse spoke above the fear in her stomach. She'd hurt someone. Monster or not, she'd hurt someone.

"Wh-what if we bring him back? she said, the words coming out before she could stop them.

Of course they wouldn't bring him back, Faiza would never agree to nursing a dragon back to health.

But to her surprise, a gleam came to her sister's eye at the suggestion.

"Bring him back… it's a risk, sure, but could it be worth it?" Faiza's voice lowered, dropping to the tone she often used to mutter to herself with. Nyra couldn't catch every word. Just the last part.

'For the good of humanity.'

That was good, right? Some distant, dizzy part of Nyra was dreaming of repaired relations between human and huge fire breathing reptile, brought about by a single act of kindness.

But even as the thought swept through her, she knew it wasn't the case.

It was further confirmed when her sister drew a ball of thick wire from a cargo pocket and began binding the dragon's wrists.

"Help me get him in the car," Faiza said.

"What… why are we–?"

"Like you said, we're bringing him back." Her sister smiled. "We're gonna learn about dragons."

next part

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

traumadump below the cut lol

when i was in third grade, my family was really poor. we weren't homeless, but we barely had enough money to pay the bills and still buy food. there was rarely any money left over for luxuries. despite really not having the money to afford it, my grandparents wanted me to go to a catholic school, at least for a while. they pitched in about half the tuition (which was already lower than normal since my grandmother worked for that school's church) and made my parents pay the rest.

sometimes i wonder if things would've happened differently if they hadn't needed to pay that tuition

in third grade, my family got another cat. his name was Blu, because his eyes were blue when he was a kitten, but they changed to a yellow-orange when he got older. his previous owner had a daughter that was allergic to cats, so they couldn't keep him.

he was a grey american longhair, if i remember correctly, and he really loved our dog, Daisy. he didn't care much for our other cat, Sasha, and she absolutely hated him. to be fair though, she hates every animal she meets.

we didn't even have him for a full year, but i loved that cat. he was the second cat my family had adopted after i was born, the first being Sasha.

a few months into having him, he got urinary crystals from the shitty water we have where we live. apple cider vinegar held it off, for a while, and i thought he had a chance.

my parents knew his time was limited

it kept getting worse. he was bleeding internally and would oftentimes refuse to use the litter box. he was in pain constantly.

near the end of his life, he rarely left the tub, let alone the bathroom. he would lay on his side in the tub and would only move if you talked to him or pet him.

we were too poor to euthanize him to give him a painless send-off

i get home from school one day, and i drop my bag on the floor, take off my shoes, and run to see Blu in the bathroom. Dad says he was in there about five minutes ago, and he was still responsive, though barely.

i get to the bathroom and lean over the edge of the tub and say hi to him. no response. i call his name. no response. i reach out and pet him. he doesn't move. he's still warm. Mom and Dad enter the bathroom after me. i call his name louder, i shake him. i call louder, louder, louder. i'm screaming. i start crying. Mom and Dad are crying, too.

i can't breathe. i'm sobbing too hard to. this isn't my first encounter with death, nor is it my last. it still hits me hard.

he wasn't even a year old

Dad buries him in the back yard. under an apple tree, with the other cats we've lost. i still miss him. i still wish we had the money back then to save him, or at least give him a relatively painless death. but we didn't, and i can't change what's already come to pass...

in retrospect, this is probably why my biggest fear is the death of loved ones. my own death scares me, sure, but death taking others? the thought is terrifying.

on multiple occasions, i've seen my sister asleep and motionless, and had to watch her for a minute to make sure she's still breathing. sometimes i'll see Sasha asleep and have to pet her to make sure she's not dead. i fear that one of my parents or grandparents will die in the middle of the night and i'd just go on with my day like nothing was wrong. i'm scared that one of my friends will die and i'll go to school and the only thing i'll think when they're not there is "huh, i guess they're sick today"

in other words, i've got death-related trauma, and i decided to make that everyone else's problem

[newtxtinaforever]

Everything Has Changed

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

All I knew this morning when I woke

Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles

And your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like

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

Tina's POV

What hadn't I encountered in the past forty-eight hours? Upon meeting Mr. Newt Scamander, my already crumbling world was thrown into an even larger pit of chaos. Several people had died, including Credence. I had failed to save him from his adoptive mother and my own co-workers as well, which made me a pretty lousy Auror. After nearly being executed for assisting a criminal, what chance did I have at reclaiming my job?

Thankfully, there was one good thing to come out of all this destruction. Newt and I had become friends through the process of finding his creatures, which turned out to be very different from the kind of connection we shared when we first met. If I've learned anything in the past couple of days, it's that things (people in particular) are not always what they seem. I still found it hard to believe that Graves was Grindelwald in disguise. How long had he pretended to be my former boss? With a horrible feeling in my stomach, I remembered how Graves wiped the mustard off of my lip after I had stormed into the Major Investigative department. It had been Grindelwald all along. I quickly turned my mind to other matters.

All the creatures I had seen recently (not to mention rules I'd broken) made me feel as if I was living someone else's life. Who was this alternate version of myself and where did she come from? Perhaps she had been kept hidden under the surface for so long that she had been forgotten. After all, doing so was necessary in order to perform well at my job. That's why many criminals turned out to be nothing more than normal people who felt as if they had no other choice. They did what they had to do to get the job done.

Then there was Mr. Kowalski. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Newt's carelessness had hopelessly entangled him into the world I worked so hard to protect, the one that was being threatened by the darkest wizard of all time. Even if Newt's creatures hadn't escaped, there was still the destruction caused by the Obscurus (unfortunately Credence) to deal with. Well, it was dealt with, all right. Enough dwelling on the past, Tina, I scolded myself. It was rare for me to do so, but the past few months had been tough and I could feel myself sinking deeper into a place of hopelessness more than ever before.

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

And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies the beautiful kind

Making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel right

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

Despite all that had transpired, I could recognize some sort of light in this continuous tunnel of darkness. Besides meeting Newt, I had been reminded of what it felt like to be an Auror. I wasn't exactly on the right side this time, but the rush of adrenaline felt eerily similar. After playing by the rules for so long, I had experienced a taste of what it was like to be on the run. My mind still had a hard time believing that I had been in such a perilous position. It wasn't every day that I got my own wanted poster.

The past forty-eight hours were definitely impulsive, to say the least. I acted on my instincts, which proved to be right in the end. Thank goodness. I don't know what I'd have done if things had turned out worse than they did. It didn't always work, but sometimes refusing to acknowledge the worst possible outcome allowed me to believe in the more average yet more likely outcomes of any given situation. If I had to describe it, I'd say that dwelling on the worst thing that could happen often made me feel trapped. It made me feel like it was the only option and that there was no hope. Whatever I faced, I had to think positively, something I struggled with considering my childhood.

It's hard to 'think happy thoughts' when your parents die young and you're left alone to raise your younger sister. There was no time for wishful thinking or innocent daydreams, not when someone else depended on me. I clearly remember Queenie leaning against me, her head on my shoulder, asking, "When do you think I'll meet my husband?" I smiled weakly, the direct result of a hardened heart. Tired and a tiny bit irritable (but trying my best not to show it), I replied, "I don't know." There wasn't time for me to fantasize about my future husband (did he even exist?), and it showed.

On the flip side, Queenie thoroughly enjoyed pretending to be the damsel in distress. She could defend herself, don't get me wrong, but she also didn't mind donning a pretty pink dress while I came to her rescue. As much as Queenie enjoyed being the princess, I equally enjoyed playing the role of her savior. After all, guys weren't the only ones with the power to save others. Perhaps it was this specific moment in time that sealed my fate. The day our parents died, it seemed like the whole world had fallen on my shoulders. So I did what I had always done best: taking care of others.

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

Come back and tell me why

I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

And let me know that it's not all in my mind

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

"Come on, Teenie. Please?" my sister whined. "Alright, I'll go" came my reluctant response. Every part of me wanted to stay home and spend some time alone yet I knew how important this Valentine's Day dance was to Queenie. She had been going on about it as soon as she had found out. Not only that, but she insisted I accompany her to fulfill my duties as a sister and wing-woman. I could tell she was still hung up over Jacob, so I ultimately agreed, shaking my head as I slipped on the dress I wore whenever I had to go undercover. Here goes nothing.

I smiled as I watched Queenie enchant yet another lovestruck lad, no magic necessary. Her looks were more than enough to persuade practically any man to dance with her, even those that came with dates. She simply had an unspoken connection with everyone, some sort of invisible quality that allowed her to fit in wherever she went. Despite my best efforts, I was a little bit jealous. I knew she struggled in other areas and found her Legilimency to be a burden sometimes, but I envied how easily people liked her. Queenie was sweet and someone others could relate to. Me? Not so much.

As I watched my sister dance, I couldn't help but think back to the question she asked me during our childhood. I manipulated it slightly so that I would have to answer it on my own behalf. When would I meet my future husband? An even bigger question formulated before I could stop it: what if I had already met him? After all, there was no guaranteed way of knowing who my future husband was until we were married, and I had no idea when that would be. I wasn't exactly against the idea of marriage, but I also didn't see any reason to rush into things. In fact, I thought it made more sense to wait before settling down. Unfortunately, my fellow Americans didn't share this philosphy.

I would never admit it to anyone other than myself (even that was a challenge), but I had truly missed Newt and hoped he would return to America. He had unintentionally caused a large amount of trouble, sure, but there was something about him that made me want to learn more. More about him, more about his creatures, etc. Thankfully, we had been sending letters back and forth since that day on the docks. I thoroughly enjoyed receiving a letter from Newt; it was a Goldstein family ritual. Every time a letter came in, Queenie and I would huddle together and read it silently, my thoughts practically spoken aloud as I read. Sometimes I wished I was the only one who read the letters-they were addressed to me, after all-yet I knew they made Queenie happy to know that I was happy.

My peaceful thoughts continued as I reminisced on recent moments. Reality bled through just a little, flashes of Queenie dancing coming into focus. The two intertwined to form a nice fantasy where Newt was here and the possibilities were endless. I knew daydreaming was childish (not to mention pointless), but pretending Newt was somewhere in the crowd gave me a sense of contentment. I could dance with him, and Queenie would surely make things less awkward between us. My heart fluttered at the thought of it. With a lighthearted smile, I sighed, hoping that Newt felt even the slightest amount of affection that I felt for him.

fanfic by me, fanvid by @clairelizabeths (mrsmaisels on YouTube)