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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart - Part 4

warnings: Charlie is still confused, gets worked up a little bit, language

word count: 1800+

Chapter directory: here

4. The one where he was rooted to the spot

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dirt road as Charlie made his way back to his cottage. It had been a very long, very frustrating week, and his mind was spinning with thoughts he’d rather not dwell on. He was glad he survived the week somehow sanely. Mostly, he spent his days trying to ignore the way every moment with you (and worse, every moment you’d spent with Victor), seemed to stick to him like dragon snot that wouldn’t wash off.

All week, he’d been caught off guard by the sound of your conversations, or by the easy, natural way you’d fallen into step with Victor as he showed you the different processes. And yet, despite his best efforts, he kept finding himself glancing in your direction. He’d grumbled to himself already more times than he could count, trying to convince himself he didn’t care, that it was all just… fucking irritating. But as he neared his cabin, his plan to let it all go fell apart completely.

There you were, crouched next to your motorcycle parked in front of your cottage, and you looked… well, you looked completely different. The tight black jeans just hugged you perfectly everywhere, just like your fitted white tank top, your hair tied back as you tinkered with something on the bike’s side, your hands greasy and deft. He actually stopped in his tracks, stunned. He gulped as he noticed a thin trail of oil trickling gracefully down your forearm. For Merlin’s sake.

He’d gotten so used to seeing you in the oversized handler gear: boots, gloves, those bulky dragonhide jackets, that he’d practically forgotten that under all that, you were… well, you. And a very different-looking you than he’d somehow expected now.

“Hey, Charlie,” you called, looking up from your work, your face breaking into a grin when you saw him. Your eyes sparkled with a kind of energy he hadn’t noticed before, and there was something in the way you leaned against the bike that made him feel like he’d been hit by a Stupefy spell.

Then, without breaking that warm, mischievous smile, you took a few steps toward him, closing the space between you. He could practically feel the heat radiating off you, see a faint smear of oil along your collarbone, and was stunned by the way a stray strand of hair framed your beautiful face.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you rose up on your toes and leaned in, your lips soft and inviting as they brushed his. He smelled the scent of you, earthy, with a hint of engine oil, making his pulse hammer. His hands started acting on their own, first cupping your face, as he melted into the soft kiss, then wandering down on your arms. Then with his left arm he pulled you closer by the hip, his fingertips pressing into your velvety skin that he found under the hem of your top, his right arm continued trailing down, feeling the texture of your jeans as his grip tightened on your thigh, then wandering towards your bottom. His heartbeat was frantic, he could feel all the blood leaving his brain and pooling downwards.

What. the. fuck. was. that. Charlie blinked, jerking himself back to reality, his cheeks flushed, and his breath completely unsteady. He had to cough, desperate to shake off the image, knowing well that he was staring too long, and that you had no idea the chaos you’d just caused in his head.

“Hey, Charlie,” you called, looking up from your work, with a warm smile when you saw him.

“Uh, hey,” he replied, his voice sounding more strangled than he’d intended. He tried to clear his throat, but the words seemed to stick. “Didn’t… didn’t know you were so handy.”

“Yeah,” you said, stroking the bike fondly, “I used to tinker with it back home. Needed a bit of work after the trip here.” You wiped your hands on an old rag, oblivious to the way Charlie was still standing frozen in place, as if rooted to the spot.

He was staring, he realized: at your hands, your jeans, the way your tank top hugged your figure in a way that had his pulse thumping in an intensity he was not at all prepared to deal with. He’d just walked here to clear his head, not to run smack into… whatever this was.

“Something wrong?” you asked, noticing his silence. Your brow creased slightly, a small smile hiding at the corners of your mouth.

“No,” he said quickly, snapping his gaze away and looking down at his feet. “Just… surprised. Didn’t expect you being this handy with fixing things.”

You laughed, a warm, easy sound that seemed to ripple right through him. “What, you thought I only dealt with dragons?”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling himself flush. “Guess I didn’t think much beyond that.”

“Well,” you said, standing up and leaning one arm against the bike, giving him a wide grin, “I do have other hobbies, you know.”

Charlie swallowed hard. He couldn’t help but glance at the faint line of your collarbone peeking out from the tank top, the way a strand of hair had slipped loose and framed your face. His mind was now a muddle of thoughts he didn’t want to have, and his body was… well, definitely reacting in a way he refused to acknowledge. This is ridiculous. He was Charlie Weasley, for Merlin’s sake, a dragon handler, completely content with the way he carried himself. And yet here he was, absolutely flustered by a freaking tank top and jeans.

“Right,” he muttered, trying to find some semblance of normality. “So, uh, need help with anything? The bike, I mean?”

You smirked, tilting your head with an amused glint in your eye. “And here I thought you weren’t into distractions.”

He blinked, trying to ignore the heat rising in his face. “Wha… It’s not a distraction. Just… a friendly offer.”

“Alright, tough guy,” you teased. “Hold the bike while I check the oil level.”

He stepped closer, his movements slower than usual as he fought to keep his attention on the task and not on the way your jeans stuck to your thighs. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this aware of a pair of jeans in his life, which only made him more irritated with himself. Focus, Weasley. It’s a bike. Just a bloody bike.

You crouched down again, inspecting the oil level, and he tried not to notice the view opening in front of him, the thin fabric of your tank top hugging your breasts. He glanced skyward, trying to clear his mind, but found himself distracted by the view again.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “you look a bit frazzled. Long day with the dragons?”

He blinked, thrown off by the question. “Uh, yeah. Just… you know. Same old.” He shrugged, feeling awkward.

“Right.” You nodded, then raised an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. “Couldn’t have anything to do with Victor, could it?”

Charlie felt his stomach drop. “What?” he said, too quickly. “No. Why would it?”

Your smirk only grew, and he suddenly felt like he was standing far too close. “Oh, nothing,” you said innocently, reaching over to clean a spot on the engine. “It’s just… I noticed you seemed a bit on edge this week. Thought maybe it was because of Victor.”

He scoffed, though it sounded weak. “Victor? I barely noticed he was there.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, biting back a laugh. “That must be why you kept giving him looks that could burn holes through steel.”

Charlie grunted, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed. He fumbled for words, struggling to explain himself without giving anything away. “I just… I don’t like it when people… mess around too much. It’s a workplace, after all.”

“Right, right,” you said, nodding with a mock-serious expression. “Because you would never joke around. Ever.”

He was aware of how ridiculous he sounded, and you grinning only made it worse. But even as he frowned, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over you again… your hands, stained with oil, the smudge on your cheek you hadn’t noticed, the way you seemed completely at ease, the complete opposite of how he felt.

“So… you’re good with bikes, huh?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “I find it quite relaxing.” You looked thoughtful, then glanced up at him, your gaze warm. “What about you? Any hidden hobbies?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Nah. Just dragons, I guess.”

“Just dragons,” you repeated with a grin. “Not exactly a small hobby.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Fair point. But, uh, dragons don’t usually… surprise me as much as you just did.”

You straightened, catching his eye with a playful look. “Oh? Surprised I can handle more than dragons?”

“Well… yeah, a bit,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He was trying to sound casual, but his voice was giving him away. The truth was, everything about you was throwing him off, and he had no ways to correctly handle this.

You laughed, leaning against the bike as you gave him an assessing look. “I think it’s kind of funny, Charlie. You’ve been all grumpy and serious all week, and here you are… staring at me like I just grew wings.”

He stiffened, feeling the heat rise to his face again. “I’m not… staring,” he muttered, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Just… surprised, like I said.”

“Mmhmm,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Well, let me know if you need any tips on working through surprises. I’m pretty good at that, too.”

The teasing in your voice made his stomach flip, and he managed a weak chuckle, cursing his own reaction. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stepped back, giving him a final, amused smile before leaning back to the bike again. “Thanks for the help, Charlie. Think I’ve got it from here.”

He nodded, though it took him a second to unfreeze his legs enough to move. “Right. Yeah. Well… bye, then.”

“Bye, Charlie,” you called, flashing him one last grin.

As he walked away, he felt a strange, jittery warmth settle in his chest. Bloody hell, he thought, scrubbing a hand over his face. This was fucking embarassing. He hadn’t even known he had these kinds of feelings in him, and he was utterly sure he didn’t want them. But there was no denying that you had somehow managed to get under his skin for real, and the realization was as unsettling.

By the time he made it back to his cabin, he was practically dizzy, replaying every word, every laugh, every grin in his head. He was in trouble: big, unexpected trouble, and he had zero idea what to do about it. Maybe talking to Bill could help.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x you #mc x charlie weasley

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Bill: *sighs*

Charlie: You bored?

Bill: Yeah.

Charlie: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Bill: I thought you’d never ask.

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart - Part 3

a/n: Let's see how your first workday at the reserve goes. My native languge is not English, so sorry if you see anything weird.

warnings: Charlie is still confused and angtsy, language

word count: 1200+

Chapter directory: here

Part 3: The one where he is not jealous

The morning mist was thick as Charlie walked the familiar paths of the sanctuary, his boots crunching over gravel and dry leaves as he went. But even as he went through the routine, something felt off today. Deep down he knew exactly what it was, though he’d spent all morning refusing to admit it.

He’d already been out there in the clearing, waiting by the handlers’ morning meeting point, when András, the senior handler had introduced you to the rest of the crew. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She arrived with great recommendations, having experience with magical creatures and healing too - we could not ask for a better combination, could we? Y/N, you’ll spend your first days with Victor, who’ll show you around and help you settle in.” Charlie had glanced up from the equipment he was sorting, pretending not to pay too much attention, but the moment you stepped forward and shook Victor’s hand, he felt a prickle of something foreign and sharp: a feeling he didn’t exactly recognize, but one that unsettled him all the same.

Victor, of course, had swooped in with his easy, handsome grin and friendly banter, throwing in some jokes that had you laughing almost immediately. Charlie felt his jaw suddenly tighten. He wanted to write it off as irritation, nothing more. Victor was a natural flirt, after all, always leaning a little too close, quick to share a laugh or throw a compliment, and generally acting like he was on stage. But now, every single one of Victor’s jokes seemed to grate on him.

He slightly gritted his teeth, watching as András led you and Victor toward the dragon enclosures, chuckling at something Victor had said. Charlie quickly turned away, trying to shake the feeling off. This is ridiculous. He wasn’t the type to fuss over newcomers, and he definitely wasn’t one to get irritated just because someone was being friendly. After all, it was him who asked András not to assign newcomers to work with him anymore a couple of years ago. Victor was experienced enough, and it was Charlie who trained him, making him more than capable of handling these situations.

Trying to distract himself, he busied himself with his tasks for the morning, checking in on the dragons, taking a new batch of Murtlap essence to the main enclosure, and helping the junior handlers set up the containment wards. But every time he looked up, he found himself glancing in your direction. You were working with Victor just a few enclosures over, checking on one of the Hebridean Blacks, a particularly feisty one. He watched as Victor leaned over your shoulder, pointing out something on the dragon’s wing, and he felt his stomach twist.

Bloody hell, get your shit together, Weasley, he muttered to himself, shaking his head, trying to focus. But it didn’t help, not really. His mind kept drifting back to you and Victor, and the easy laughter he kept hearing from across the clearing from time to time.

Eventually, he was caught so off guard that András felt the need to check on him, appearing at his side with a barely visible, suspiciously knowing smile. Charlie tried to brush him off, mumbling something about needing to check the feeding schedules, but András wasn’t buying it. He was the one who hired Charlie more than ten years ago, and their work relationship turned into a reserved friendship over the years. He knew Charlie’s mood changes and expressions maybe more than Charlie himself.

“What’s got you so distracted, Weasley?” András asked, giving him a pointed look.

“Nothin’,” Charlie replied dryly, too quickly. He kept his eyes on the claw clippers he was arranging, hoping that András would let it go.

András laughed, crossing his arms. “Nothing, huh? Funny, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re ready to incinerate Victor with a single glare.”

Charlie stiffened, feeling the heat rise to his face. He scowled at András, hoping his friend would just drop it. “I’m just… nothing, as I said. All is okay”

“Sure,” András replied, his grin widening. “But you’ve never kept an eye on anyone like this before, not that I’ve seen. And you’ve been here a while, Charlie.”

Charlie exhaled sharply, trying to shrug off András’s words. “Victor’s always been a bit too… friendly, don’t you think?” he muttered, barely realizing how that sounded until it was out of his mouth.

“So that’s it?” András raised an eyebrow, his gaze turning more serious. “It did not bother you until now”

“I’m not bothered at all” Charlie said quickly, but the words rang hollow even to his own ears. He glanced over to where you and Victor were working, catching sight of you smiling at something Victor had said, and felt his stomach drop again.

András chuckled, shaking his head. “Look, Charlie. You’ve been here… for how long? More than ten years? I’ve never seen you get this worked up over anyone, let alone someone you hardly know. If there is something…”

Charlie cut him off, not wanting to hear any more. “There. is. not.”, though the words felt forced. He was far too aware of the way his gaze kept drifting back to you, the way his heart beat just a bit faster every time he caught a glimpse of you laughing with Victor.

András sighed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, if you say so. But whatever it is in your head, you might want to figure it out sooner rather than later. You know this is not a place where even the faintest distraction is welcome, you’ll get yourself or someone else hurt.”

Charlie stayed silent as András walked off, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard the advice. But as the day wore on, the unease in his chest only grew. Every laugh he heard from you, every time Victor leaned in close to point something out, every easy grin the two of you shared: all of it seemed to dig into him like a thorn. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake it.

By the end of the day, he was tired, extremely frustrated, and ready to call it quits. But as he headed back to the main path, you and Victor were there, saying your goodbyes to everyone. He could feel Victor’s gaze on him, the faint trace of a smirk as he said, “Well, Weasley, seems like you’ve got some competition. She’s a natural.”

Charlie forced a tight smile, managing a stiff nod. “Good to hear,” he muttered, barely meeting Victor’s eyes.

Victor just laughed, patting him on the shoulder before turning to leave. Charlie clenched his jaw, watching Victor’s retreating back, his fists clenched at his sides.

He glanced at you, and there was a brief moment where your eyes met. For a split second, he thought he saw something there, a flicker of confusion, or maybe just curiosity. But you just simply offered him a polite smile and a “See you tomorrow, Charlie,” before walking off, leaving him standing there, feeling like an absolute fool.

He spent his way home replaying the day over and over, trying to shake the lingering thoughts that clung to him. This is ridiculous. He didn’t even know you; there was no reason for him to feel so… unsteady. And yet, every time he thought of you and Victor together, he felt his chest tighten, that irrational frustration rising up again. By the time he got back to his cabin, he was more confused than ever, his thoughts swirling like a storm, and he started to be really, really fed up with himself.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x reader #mc x charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley x you

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart - Part 2

a/n: Welcome, this is my very first fanfiction, like ever. I think there is not enough Charlie Weasley fanfiction out there, so I thought I'll take the matter into my hands. It will be long and slow-burning (I warned you!). My native languge is not English, so sorry if you see anything weird.

warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of past traumas

word count: 2400+

Chapter directory: here

Part 2: The one where she offers a beer

Charlie had paced the length of his cabin at least six times since the sun dipped below the horizon on the next evening, after he managed to survive the day sanely somehow. It was quiet outside, the stillness broken only by distant dragon roars and the rustling of trees in the warm breeze. Most of the time he welcomed the solitude here; it was one of the things that had drawn him to the sanctuary in the first place. But tonight, it felt…different. Restless.

He’d told himself it was because of the newcomer, that it was normal to want to check in, make sure everything was going smoothly for someone who’d just arrived. Especially when he was such a dork the day before and managed to stumble over every single one of the three sentences that finally made it past his lips. And he even forgot to introduce himself. Great, just great. Yet even as he hesitantly reached the door, he could feel the weak excuses weighing on him. She’s fine, he thought. I am just overthinking it.

But another part of him, more persistent than he would have liked, kept nudging him. There was something about you that had stirred his curiosity. You were like a book with a hidden cover, something both guarded and raw that he felt drawn to. Finally, despite his better judgment, he grabbed an old hammer from the shelf, one he’d hardly ever used, which would make a terrible excuse but was better than nothing, and headed towards your cottage.

The air was warm as he approached, the glow from your cottage casting a welcoming light across the pathway. He swallowed, feeling a strange tightening in his chest, and knocked lightly on the door.

After some moments, you opened it, looking surprised but not displeased to see him standing there, hammer in hand.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly feeling foolish. “I, uh… thought I’d check in. Wanted to make sure everything was working alright here. Sometimes the… the shutters, you know, they stick. Oh, and I am Charlie, by the way” He winced inwardly, realizing just how ridiculous he sounded.

You looked at the hammer and then back at him, a small smile forming. “The shutters are fine,” you said, amusement in your voice. “But come on in. I was just getting settled, after packing all day. And my name is Y/N.”

He nodded gratefully, feeling the warmth of the room as he stepped inside. The cottage was simple but cozy, just like his, and he already noticed a few scattered personal items: many books still in boxes, your worn leather jacket slung over a chair, a mug with cat ears left on the table: these gave the space a faint but unmistakable sense of home. He wondered, not for the first time, about the life you’d left behind.

Then he noticed the small cluster of beer bottles on the kitchen counter, and he forced himself to look away, not wanting to appear too interested in your personal habits. “Nice place,” he said, nodding as if he were appraising the walls, though his eyes kept drifting back to you. Why the hell can’t I keep up a normal conversation like a normal person, he cringed silently.

You, with a slight, knowing grin, gestured to the beers. “Interested in a drink, Charlie? They’re cold, and I could use the company if you’re sticking around.”

He hesitated, torn between the polite thing to do and the desire to stay. The polite thing would have been to leave, let you settle in, and not make this into something more awkward than it was already. But he found himself nodding, a little too quickly. “Sure. Yeah, that’d be great.”

You handed him a beer, your fingers brushing his slightly, and he felt a small jolt, though he tried not to show it. He glanced at the label, chuckling softly. “Imported stuff? Fancy for these parts. Most of us just go with whatever they bring in from the local pub.”

“I figured I’d treat myself,” you replied, taking a seat outside, on the top step of the stairs at the porch and gesturing for him to join you.

He sat down next to you, trying to ignore the rapid beat of his heart as he took a sip of the beer. Silence fell between you, and Charlie felt the urge to fill it, despite his usual preference for quiet. “So, uh, the bike,” he started, unsure where he was going with it. “Looks pretty… sturdy. Good choice for the hills here. You ride often?”

You nodded, smiling as if you knew he was reaching for something - anything to say. “I do. It’s the best way to clear my mind, I think. Nothing like a few hours on the open road to help you forget.”

He took another sip, feeling the weight of those words. The way you said it… with a kind of haunted edge, it made his chest tighten. He wanted to ask, to know what you were trying to forget, but he held back.

Instead, he found himself talking, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Yeah, I get that. I think that’s why I ended up here, actually. This place… it has a way of giving you distance, letting you… restart.”

You looked at him, your eyes thoughtful, and he felt himself start to ramble, the usual steadiness in his voice faltering. “I mean, it’s not that I was running from anything, not exactly. Just, you know, needed a break from people, from… expectations. They’re always there, you know? Family, friends… everyone wants you to be a certain way, fit into their molds. And I just… I just couldn’t.”

He stopped, realizing he’d shared too much. Normally, he didn’t talk like this, certainly not to people he barely met. But there was something about you, the way you were watching him, patient and understanding, that made him feel like he could open up, even though it terrified him.

You tilted your head slightly, the hint of a smile on your lips. “So you ran away to live with dragons? That’s definitely one way to break free from expectations.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess it sounds a bit dramatic when you put it like that.” His face warmed, and he hoped you couldn’t see the slight flush creeping up his cheeks. He wasn’t used to feeling so self-conscious, especially not over something as simple as his choice of career. But he couldn’t shake the thought that you might be laughing at him, though your expression was far from mocking.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you said, your voice softening. “I think it’s… admirable, actually. Choosing what you really want and making a life out of it. Not many people have the guts to do that.”

He looked at you, a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite name flickering in his eyes. No one had ever put it that way before. Most people saw his life here as an escape, a refusal to grow up or settle down. But you seemed to judge it differently, and it threw him off balance.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking another long sip of his beer, hoping it would calm the slight tremor in his hands. He noticed the way you were watching him, and for a second, he wondered if you could tell how nervous he felt, how uncharacteristically anxious he was.

“You don’t talk much about yourself, do you?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He chuckled, a bit too loudly, then tried to cover it with a casual shrug. “No, I, uh… I guess I’m not much of a talker.” He paused, then felt the need to add, “At least, not usually. You, uh… you’re just easy to talk to.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Fuck, what am I doing again.

Your eyebrows raised slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Am I?”

He nodded, feeling the heat in his cheeks intensify. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t usually go around… rambling. It’s just, uh, I guess you make it… comfortable.” He rubbed his neck again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t really know why.”

The air between you felt charged, and he didn’t know how to handle it. A reckless part of him wanted to lean closer, to see if you’d let him cross that line, and the other part was practically screaming at him to pull back, to keep things simple and professional.

Sensing his inner battle, you offered him a warm smile.

He felt a mixture of relief and embarrassment, but also something else—a tiny piece of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself. The silence stretched out between you, somehow comfortable yet electric, and he wondered if you felt it too.

And as he finished his beer, Charlie found himself feeling strangely content, as though just being here, beside you, was exactly where he was meant to be. He stole a glance in your direction and noticed the way your face softened in the low light, a warmth in your eyes that sent a shiver of both excitement and anxiety through him. He’d never felt so out of his depth, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

You didn’t seem in any hurry to end the evening either. Your fingers traced circles around the rim of your own bottle, your gaze thoughtful. He wondered what was running through your mind, if maybe you’d been hurt before, if that quiet sadness he’d sensed earlier was a wound you kept carefully hidden. He wanted to ask but didn’t want to pry, unsure if he even had the right.

Finally, you broke the silence. “So, what is your favorite thing here?” you asked, your tone gentle but curious.

Charlie hesitated, his usual barriers faltering under your steady gaze. “It’s… hard to explain,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “I guess it’s just this place itself, with these amazing creatures, it’s like they need someone who sees them, really sees them for what they are.” He paused, glancing away. “I know it sounds strange. But the dragons, they don’t judge or expect things of you. They just… are. And for someone like me, that’s enough.”

You listened without interrupting, a slight nod encouraging him to go on. And so he did, letting his words tumble out, feeling more vulnerable than he had in years.

“I guess I’ve always felt… different, you know? A bit on the outside of things.” He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “My family, they’re wonderful, but they’re so… close, so tied to each other’s lives. I love them, I do. But I needed… space. And this place, it gives me that.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Guess that makes me sound like a bit of a loner.”

You smiled, and the warmth in your eyes eased his self-consciousness. “I don’t think it’s strange at all. Some of us need to get away to find out who we really are. And some of us just need space, yeah.” It was as though you’d just described his own heart.

Charlie took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his own words settle between you both. He’d never expected to talk about these things with anyone, let alone a near stranger. But somehow, with you, it felt right. But the question lingered at the back of his mind: was this just the comfort of a shared beer and a quiet night, or was there something more? He thought he saw it in your eyes, the way you held his gaze a little longer than necessary, the subtle flicker of interest that made his heart race. But he couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, the clock on the wall reminded him of the late hour, and he realized he’d stayed far longer than he’d intended. He took a deep breath, reluctantly setting his empty bottle next to him. “I should probably let you get some rest,” he said, his voice soft, almost regretful.

You nodded, but there was a glimmer of something - disappointment? - in your eyes, and he felt a pang of both relief and longing. As you both got to your feet, he fumbled for words, searching for something that would leave the door open, something to hint that he wanted maybe to see you again without making a complete fool of himself.

“Thanks… for the beer,” he said, feeling the inadequacy of the words even as he spoke them. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing away. “I, uh… I’m glad you’re here. You know, at the sanctuary.”

You smiled, and in that moment, he felt his pulse quicken, his earlier nerves flaring up again. “Thank you, Charlie... I am glad too” you replied, your voice soft and sincere.

The silence between you grew a bit heavier. For a brief, reckless moment, he considered leaning in, bridging that last bit of space between you. But then his nerves kicked in, reminding him of how out of character this whole night had been, how utterly foolish he’d look if he’d misread the signs.

So instead, he only gave you a small, shy smile. “Well, goodnight, then,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you replied, your gaze lingering on him in a way that made him wonder if you were just as hesitant, just as uncertain about whatever was happening between you.

He walked out into the night, the warmth of your proximity fading behind him, but he couldn’t shake the memory of the evening, the soft look in your eyes. As he made his way back to his own cabin, he tried to brush it off, to tell himself that it was just a friendly conversation, nothing more. But as he lay in bed, sleep wouldn’t come.

Your voice, your smile, that look in your eyes, they haunted him, a quiet, persistent whisper in the back of his mind. He didn’t know what it meant or what he was supposed to do about it, but one thing was clear: tonight had changed something, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t pretend otherwise.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fanfic #mc x charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart

Welcome to my first fanfiction ever. One day, Y/N shows up at the dragon sanctuary, completely stirring up something in Charlie, who, thank you very much, was perfectly fine without this disruption. She brings many things with her: a Muggle motorbike, an exceptional passion for dragons, a talent for healing, and a deeply unsettling, dangerous past that could impact everyone around her. Obviously, Charlie won’t be able to keep away from her for long.

Chapter directory:

Part 1: The one where she unexpectedly shows up

Part 2: The one where she offers a beer

Part 3: The one where he is not jealous

Part 4: The one where he was rooted to the spot

Part 5 and more: on their way

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 months ago

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Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart - Part 1

warnings: mentions of solitude?, Charlie being angsty a little bit, nothing yet, really

word count: 1500+

Chapter directory: here

Part 1: The one where she unexpectedly shows up

The sanctuary was quiet that afternoon, a rare lull after the midday rush of activities. Charlie had been up early, finishing his rounds with the dragons, content in his usual solitude. He has been working here since he was 18 years old, he knew the place like the back of his hand. Today he managed to get back to his quiet cottage quite early, a bit bothered, as the place needed some cleaning, and he was not in the mood for that. All he could hear were birds chirping around the cottage, the mild wind rustling the leaves of the trees around the little cabins, sometimes he could identify very distant roars from dragons. Everything was perfectly calm and undisturbed. Just as he preferred.

Before he could get too comfortable, the sound of a weird muggle-like engine gradually drifted to his ear, cutting through the stillness, unfamiliar and distinctly out of place here in the dragon sanctuary.

He squinted down the road, watching as a figure on a motorbike came into view, maneuvering with steady confidence over the rough roads, directly heading to the empty cabin next to his. Leather jacket, black helmet, a long, blonde braid, brown eyes set with a kind of unshakeable focus that caught him completely off guard. And just like that, you arrived. A newcomer in a place that rarely saw strangers like you. He felt his shoulders tense, uncertain if it was from the disruption or something else entirely.

Charlie watched as you parked the bike, got off, and took a long look around after removing your helmet. He should have been heading back to the cottage, but his feet stayed rooted, his attention fixed on you with a strange, almost unsettling fascination. This was… unlike him, and he didn’t understand it. In his years here, he’d met all sorts of people, most of whom he welcomed with friendly detachment before returning to his world of creatures and wilderness. He liked it that way.

But you… you seemed to be different.

Charlie tried to dismiss the feeling, shaking his head as he moved toward his cabin. His eye never lingered for too long on women, he was absolutely content without any emotional complication in his life, thank you very much.

But as he crossed the yard, he caught your eye for the first time. You were unloading bags from the back of the bike, frowning slightly as if deep in thought. His mouth opened, a casual greeting ready on his tongue, but the moment felt too strange, too weighted. So instead, he called out, “Are you lost?”

The question sounded abrupt, even to him, and for a second he regretted it. What the hell was that, he thought to himself. But you looked up, meeting his gaze with a small, almost bemused smile.

“No. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.” The words carried a quiet confidence that struck something deep within him, a certainty he couldn’t help but secretly admire, though he didn’t quite understand it. There was a gravity about you, something he hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to place.

Charlie nodded and gave you a quick, awkward smile, then decided to make his way to the sanctuary’s far edge instead, where the older dragons basked in the afternoon light. Maybe some distance and physical work could put his mind to ease. But as he worked, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, each image accompanied by an irritating pull of curiosity that left him feeling strangely out of balance. Why was he so intrigued? It made no sense, and that only fueled his frustration.

As he worked, memories of the way you’d looked at him replayed in his mind. The way you’d said, “Exactly where I’m supposed to be.” For most people, it would have been a simple response, but from you, it had felt layered, as though it held a secret he could not uncover. He found himself wondering what had brought you here - why someone like you would seek out a place so far removed from everything else.

Charlie exhaled sharply, annoyed at himself. This isn’t my business, he told himself. You were here for your own reasons, reasons he had no right or need to know. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to you - a complexity, a vulnerability that you kept carefully tucked away. He found himself wanting to know what it was.

By the evening, he was almost irritable with himself, annoyed that his mind kept circling back to you with something he couldn’t control. He tried to redirect his attention, his hands moving automatically as he worked on trying to fix a ragged harness. Yet, with each task, his mind betrayed him, your face returning to him unbidden - the way your gaze had met his, unwavering, but guarded. It made him feel as if he’d caught a glimpse of something rare, something he wasn’t supposed to see.

Later, he spotted you again, this time outside your cottage, looking around with an expression that seemed somehow both lost and determined. He watched you from a distance, a slight frown creasing his brow. It was strange, seeing you here, a newcomer in a place he had always felt belonged to him alone. And it was even stranger to find that he actually didn’t really mind your presence. In fact, he found it… grounding, somehow.

His confusion only deepened when he noticed the way his gaze lingered, the way he felt drawn to you in a way he hadn’t been drawn to anyone in years. He’d never been one for relationships or entanglements. His brothers joked that he was as wild as the dragons he cared for, untamed and he was perfectly happy to remain that way. Romance wasn’t something he’d ever prioritized, and he’d been fine with that. Better than fine, even.

But now, as he watched you, a series of feelings he couldn’t quite name flickered to life, leaving him uncertain and unsteady. It was like the moment before a dragon took flight: an anticipation that hung heavy in the air, tinged with the thrill of the unknown. He wanted to brush it off, convince himself that it was simply curiosity. But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.

So as the sun dipped below the hills, casting the sanctuary in deepening shadows, Charlie found himself moving toward your cottage again, his steps slow, hesitant. He stopped a few paces away, then cleared his throat. “Is it… is it what you expected?”

What was again this sentence, he cringed silently.

You looked up, surprised by his approach. There was a softness to your expression, a hint of vulnerability that made his chest tighten, he couldn’t explain why.

“It’s… different,” you said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “But it feels right.” Your words held a quiet strength that left him unsettled and oddly comforted at the same time.

He nodded, unsure of what else to say. His heart beat strangely, a little too fast, and he felt as though he’d forgotten how to speak entirely. After a moment, he managed to stammer, “If you… if you ever need anything, you know… help with, uh, anything, just let me know.”

It was a simple offer, something he might have extended to any new arrival. But this time, it felt different. Personal. Almost vulnerable. And as he spoke, he saw the faintest flicker of gratitude in your eyes, a glimmer that sent another inexplicable rush of warmth through him.

You nodded, that small, cautious smile still in place, and thanked him. The moment felt strangely intimate, like an unspoken connection coming to life in the brief silence that hung between you. Charlie found himself wanting to linger, to keep talking, to understand the thoughts and experiences that lay behind your guarded gaze.

But instead, he took a step back, feeling the need to retreat before he said or did something stupid, that would betray that strange turmoil roiling within him. He mumbled a quick goodbye, then turned, heading back to his cottage with a sense of relief mixed with regret.

As he walked away, the conflicting emotions inside him only grew stronger. Part of him wanted to understand why he felt this sudden, intense need to know you, to unravel the layers that you seemed to guard so closely. Another part of him resisted, warning him against getting too close, against letting himself be drawn into something he might not understand.

In his years at the sanctuary, Charlie had found comfort in solitude, in the knowledge that his life was his own, uncomplicated and free from the expectations of others. But now, with you here, that simplicity felt strangely lacking, like a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying. He wanted to ignore the feeling, to brush it aside as an unusual curiosity. But the truth was undeniable: in just a few short hours, you had unknowningly disrupted his world, stirring up feelings he wasn’t ready to face at all.

As the shadows of the night deepened and he settled back into his cabin, Charlie found himself thinking of you yet again, your face imprinted in his mind. He didn’t know what to make of it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. All he knew was that something had changed—something he couldn’t fully understand yet, but that felt as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Next chapter>

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x reader #mc x charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley fanfiction

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