Choo Choo Charles Fanart Novels & Stories

Derek comes in first, jacket over one arm, and stops so abruptly that Eddie walks into his back, which causes Jack to sidestep, which then results in Cilian making a sound of irritation from somewhere at the rear of the procession. They scatter themselves into the apartment and gape at Charles. Then all simply . . . stop. Four grown men, standing in the hallway, staring. "Charles," I say into the silence, "meet my brothers. Everyone . . . this is Charles. He owns the art supply shop on Fifth Avenue. He's a friend." Nobody moves for a moment. Charles sets his wine glass on the coffee table with admirable composure. He walks over to them, his hand extended, grinning broadly.

It was clear that whatever he had planned was going to be grand. He turned his face at me and winked. "Go on, then try them on for me," Charles demanded, handing me the packets with a playful grin. As I unwrapped the first package, I was blown away by his choice of clothes. Everything was so beautiful and stylish, but it seemed like a design that a hundred years from now would wear. The fabrics were luxurious, and the attention to detail was impeccable. It was as if Charles had taken me on a journey through time with his thoughtful selection of garments.

Chapter 82 Taylor Anderson The first half ended and the players were all taken inside to rest, Charles wouldn't stop taking pictures of himself and I was smiling all through admiring him. One thing I love about Charles is his self confidence and that's something I'm always proud of. Charles might not be all masculine like other guys but he's so crazily beautiful that if you don't look carefully you might mistake him for a girl, but the fact that he still dresses masculine and his fashion sense is ten, if I were him I would be obsessed with myself as well.

“How much fucking longer is this going to take? They could show up at any minute.” “My hand was over the lens.” He pulls it away, and now the image on the screen is of a girl's bedroom. It’s about as big as my bedroom closet, decorated in pinks and creams. The walls are covered in posters of musicians I vaguely remember Tatiana being interested in years ago. It would seem Charles didn’t bother taking them down when Caterina moved out. I bet he wants to freeze her in time, the soft innocence of his daughter.

Charles woke up New Year’s Day with a monster headache. He stumbled into the kitchen barefoot and wearing blue silk boxers. He started pulling out items he needed to make his hangover remedy. He had looked all over Lennox Tower for Jessica last night. Instead, he found the art coordinator. Aunt Claire had said that Jessica had work on a display. Jessica had always been an incredible drawer and painter. However, the art coordinator had showed Charles photographs Jessica had taken. Charles loved them. Then again, he loved everything she created. He had bought the rest of her work that wasn’t sold. They were going to be delivered in a few days.

She thought that she had been in the same university with Charles for four years, never expecting that the person who was so close to her, could one day become a famous artist throughout the country. Charles wore a punk style jacket and a pair of Martin boots on his feet, his face was white, his facial features were charming, handsome, especially when he laughed, people felt like a spring breeze and the small dimple on the right face was the biggest killer of women's hearts. Elaine was undeterred by his appearance, just smiling. Charles raised his eyebrows and said loudly.

"I... it's complicated, Charles." "Everything with you is complicated," he sighed, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small pouch of gold coins. He shook it, and I heard the clink. "If so, then I owe these two some money. And I hate losing money to shifters. It's embarrassing." My jaw dropped. "Wait! You guys are betting on who I will choose?" I gasped, looking from Charles to Sofia and then to Derick. "Are you serious right now?" "Yes. I am Team Cyrus, obviously," Charles said, looking entirely too smug. "The rogue prince has more style. Plus, the red hair provides a lovely contrast to your silver glow. It's aesthetically superior."

Ronald blinked, then replied, "It's quiet. Ever since they went after Madam, nothing's happened. What should we do, Mr. Hoffman?" "If there's no news, we'll leave it be," Charles said with a wave of his hand. "Take care of the movie stuff on your own. You don't need to tell me everything." He paused, then added, "Drop by Curio Corner tomorrow morning and pick up a painting for me, will you?" "Sure thing!" Ronald said. Charles clicked off his video chat and drummed his fingers on the desk. He spun his chair around, his eyes drawn to the thick, dark night sky outside the window. The sound of the trees rustling in the fierce wind made his gaze grow more intense.

I was never satisfied with the eyes, but Charles seems to find no fault. "These are wonderful," he says, flipping to yet another page. "Oh - look at this! More of the lasers!" He laughs heartily again, and I blush, unprepared for all this attention. "You must send us copies of these," Giovanna says. "He hasn't laughed this hard in days." "Days?" Rafe says. "I don't think I've ever heard him laugh this hard." Charles is still flipping through my notebook, chuckling at almost every page. Whenever he comes to another drawing of Orlando, he throws his head back and guffaws. Apparently he enjoys my particular style of drawing. After the last twenty-four hours, it feels nice to make someone laugh