#newt x bubbles

[migorify]

what oddbods did yall watch

[birdiewritessometimes]

you are my favorite writer and I’m begging on my knees for more Theo fics because your last one ate so hard im in love with it🫶🏼🫶🏼 I don’t really have any ideas besides the reader who wears prescribed glasses (I don’t really see any glasses readers as someone who has to wear glasses), a hufflepuff or Ravenclaw and it being really soft and fluffy

Take all the time you need no rush! ㅤᵕ̈ ♡

Pack of Cigarettes

A/N: Thank you sososososososo much <3 This really made my day (month hah aim so bad) and I’m so so so so sorry you had to wait so long, school was busting my ass and them Christmas came and the holidays are just stressfull! And girl I feel you, I have glasses myself! I’m sorry this will be filled with clichés just as usual (I can’t help myself). Also I’m just saying but the astronomy tower is just their hang out, that’s just how it is. Also also I included a funny bonus scene at the end that didn’t really fit in the fic but that I loveeeed soooo enjoy that too hihihi

Summary: Theodore has formed a crush on one of the most closed off people but maybe dropping his cigarettes on purpose with help him to talk to her.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!reader

Themes/warnings: Sort of shy reader!, fluff, some tension, longing, kissing.

Word count: 4500 -ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The grounds were covered in a thick layer of snow. It was a clear day. Cold winds whipping the windows of the library where you were currently sitting, studying. It was a Saturday in the beginning of January. The term had just started and yet you had homework stacked up to your ears. The NEWT-classes were really kicking your butt. There were few students in the library at this hour, most were still enjoying their breakfast in the great hall. You were sitting by the window, occasionally looking out at the snow covered quidditch-pitch as you were finishing your week’s homework. The occasional cracks and snaps of the fire filling the otherwise silent library, casting an over all calmness over you as you ruffled through the pages of the various books you needed for your homework.

The sound of the door pulled you out of your bubble of concentration. Theodore Nott walked in with his friends. Your eyes raked over his figure as he walked with his friend, Mattheo Riddle, an air of easy confidence around the pair. Your eyes traced the outline of his large hoodie, the perfect fit of his jeans, back up to the perfectly messy mop of hair that sat on his head. You felt your heartbeat increase as Mattheo nudged his friend while looking at you with a smirk, Theodores eyes snapped to yours making you blush as you quickly glanced down into your book again. You glanced down at your clothes, mentally thanking yourself for choosing both cute and comfortable clothes today. Only cursing yourself for choosing your glasses rather than your lenses. You usually wore your contact lenses during the weeks, it being more convenient than your glasses that got dirty all the time, but during weekends you opted for your glasses since your lenses made your eyes dry.

Theodore and his friends sat down by a table just a couple away from yours, giving you a perfect view of the group of troublemakers. You shifted your concertation back at the transfiguration homework before you. You did however steal glances at Theodore from time to time. You had the most painful crush on the boy but never had the courage to talk to him. It was no secret that half of the female population of Hogwarts crushed on the troublemaking boys in Slytherin, so you tried to push your feelings away, only letting yourself admire him from afar.

As you were scribbling down the answers to the questions of the work sheet you heard a soft thud near you. Looking up you saw the retreating back of the tall Italian boy with fluffy hair. Looking down at the wooden floor you saw a pack of cigarettes. Frowning slightly, you bent down to pick them up. It was no secret that Theodore and his friends smoked so you assumed that they were his. Looking back over at him you saw how he was opening a book that you assumed he got when he walked past you. Gulping you realised that you probably should go over to him and give them back. Your heartbeat increased at the mere thought of it. Taking a deep breath, you gathered what little courage you had and stood up. The pack of cigarettes in your hands. You saw how Mattheo nudged Theodore when he noticed your approach. Theodores eyes snapped to yours making you blush. You had no idea why your cheeks felt the need to burn up whenever Theodore Nott was involved and right now you cursed yourself for your blush.

“Excuse me.” You said softly when you reached the table. The others, Lorenzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini, were also looking at you now, a curious look in their eyes. “I think you dropped this.” You said, your voice quiet as you stretched out your hand with the pack of cigarettes to Theodore. He looked at you surprised but made no move to take them. It wasn’t until Mattheo elbowed him in the ribs that he responded.

“Right, sorry bella,” you assumed the nickname just slipped out, but it made you blush none the less, “thank you.” He said, flashing you a small smile before he reached for the pack. His fingers grazed yours as he took it from your much smaller hand. You felt your breath hitch at the contact but willed yourself to breath normally.

“You’re welcome.” You said quickly before you turned around and hurried back to your spot. Your heart was beating so rapidly you were sure that they could hear it if you stayed any longer.

The clock chimed as the pointers hit the number twelve you gathered the books you had borrowed to put them back in their right places before lunch. You noted that you had collected a rather big pile as you struggled to carry them all. Your eyes quickly darted involuntary in Theodore’s direction to see him and his friends gathering their things. With a breath you picked up the pile and started to head towards the large wooden bookshelves. As you were standing on the tips of your toes, trying to shimmy a book into its place by the very tips of your fingers, a large hand came from behind you and slid the book into its place. You let out a startled gasp as you turned around to see the very boy you were crushing on. Your eyes raked his face, now that he was closer. Tired eyes that seemed to have a glint of mischief in them. They were the most gorgeous steely blue. Your eyes travelled to his soft brown hair, thick and practically inviting you to run your fingers through it. His scent enveloped you like a hug of warmth, a touch of citrus and the smell of cigarettes lingered. It didn’t bother you though, like it did most people.

“Quite the stack of books you got there, bella.” His gravelly voice pulled you out of your shameless staring, his thick Italian accent more attractive now than earlier. The nickname made the familiar heat of a blush rise to your cheeks. You opened your mouth as to say something, but no sound came out. Embarrassed you closed your mouth quickly and looked away. You heard how he let out a chuckle at your embarrassed state.

“Come on, bella. Let me help you.” He stated as he casually grabbed the heavy pile of books in your arms, carrying it with ease. You willed your pulse to slow back down to normal as you slowly walked along the shelves, putting back the books. You took the ones who belonged on the lower shelves and Theodore took the ones that belonged to the higher ones. By the time you put away the last book you found yourself so far back in the library that you couldn’t see the seating area. You turned your body to look up at the boy after you had put away the very last book.

“Thank you, Theodore.” You spoke, your voice soft as you were relieved that you finally found your voice around him. His lips curled into a small smile as he stared at your face. Your stupid heart quickened again from the way he was looking at you. Heat, that it so often did around him, rose again to your cheeks as you broke eye contact.

“I like your glasses, they suit you.” He murmured making you look up at him, your eyes wide. You have never been complimented for your glasses before. Your hand shot up to correct your glasses, a nervous habit you developed as your eyes widened.

“Really?” You wanted to slap yourself for the hopeful tone in your voice, but Theodore just smiled and nodded. He stepped closer to you, invading your space and effectively caging you in between himself and the bookshelf behind you. Hot air surrounded you as he leaned in so that his lips were nearly grazing the shell of your ear, his warm breaths hitting your neck as he exhaled. You heart was nearly hammering out of your chest.

“I think you should wear them more often.” He mumbled in your ear before leaning back and turning to look you in your eyes. You were so close to his face now that your noses almost touched. You saw how his lips curled into a smirk. You let your mind wander to how it would feel to have his lips on yours. Would they be soft and gentle, or rushed and demanding? You found yourself realising that it didn’t matter much, you would happily take whatever he was willing to give you. Your eyes travelled back up to meet his steely blue ones, and you felt your breath hitch with the intensity of his look. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“I’ll see you later, bella.” He said through his smirk, the mischievous glint in his eyes as he stepped away from you, letting the cold air surround you once again. You were sure your face was beet red as you watched his retreating form. He looked back at you once more, sending you a wink before rounding a bookshelf. When you couldn’t see him anymore you let out a big breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling hot all over you quickly decided to grab a snack from the kitchens and resume your studying in the Hufflepuff common room. Far away from Theodore Nott and the effect he had on you.

The start of the week came sooner than you would’ve liked, but you had at least finished all your homework. You were feeling tired as you got ready for the day ahead. As you were preparing to put your lenses in your glasses caught your eye. Your heart quickened as you thought about the encounter that happened Saturday. Should you use your glasses today? He will know it’s because he said so. But so what? The thoughts swivelled in your head as you stood there looking at your glasses. In one giant breath you picked up your glasses and put them on. Hurrying out of your dorm before you could change your mind.

The day went by pretty normally. Zacharias Smith had actually complimented you about your glasses. It made you smile, although it didn’t make you feel any of the things Theodore had made you feel, it was still nice to get complimented. You were on your way to dinner when you bumped into something, or rather someone. Because someone caught you around the waist so you wouldn’t fall from the impact. Looking up you were met with the steely blue eyes of Theodore. He was smirking down at you, his large hand splayed against your ribcage. You felt a blush dust your cheeks at the proximity.

“Be careful bella.” He smirked and leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear yet again “I like the glasses.” He murmured before he let you go. A cold instantly spreading through you at his absence. He gave you a wink before stepping around you to continue on his way. The encounter made the butterflies in your stomach go wild, making it hard to eat. Your thoughts were constantly drifting towards your encounters with Theodore, making a blush spread on your cheeks and butterflies flutter in your stomach every time.

You would run into Theodore more often around the castle after the encounter before dinner, if it wasn’t in the corridors he would casually plop down in the seat next to yours during the classes you shared. The first time this happened you had almost jumped out of your own seat. He had startled you as he took the seat your best friend usually sat in.

“This seat free?” He had asked innocently and just at that moment your friend had walked in and gave you a knowing smile before sitting down next to Zacharias. You had only nodded at Theodore before you went back to get ready to take notes. During the classes you shared you noticed that Theodore rarely took notes, he usually just sat, leaned back into the chair, his legs spread more widely than any human could need, his knee usually gently grazed your own. Even if he didn’t take notes, he usually could answer the questions the teachers directed at him.

Now you were slowly warming up to him, even though your butterflies wouldn’t calm down around him. You would greet each other in the corridors, and you would say hi to his friends in the classes your shared. You noticed that you were slowly being more and more open to them and less nervous.

It was a weekend morning, and you were sitting at the Hufflepuff table in the great hall eating breakfast. Your friends were still asleep in their dorms. You were reading the Daily Prophet as you munched on some toast with marmalade when Theodore, Mattheo, Blaise and Lorenzo casually sat down around you. You looked up from the article you were reading in chock at the boys.

“Morning, bella.” Theodore smirked as he reached for some bread. The others murmured their various greetings as well before they helped themselves to some breakfast. You stared at them, unable to wrap your head around what was going on.

“What are you doing?” You asked them in surprise.

“Eating breakfast.” Mattheo shrugged from beside you making you snort.

“We thought you would like some company, bella.” Theodore said nonchalantly as he refilled your juice jug. A small smile broke out your face as you thanked him softly. He gave you a soft smile back before the five of you fell into easy conversation. You really started to feel more comfortable around them as they sat there, joking around, talking over each other and being general chaos.

A couple of days later you found yourself sitting in the library, the school-day had ended, and you decided to catch up on schoolwork as you waited for dinner. You were sitting at one of the tables in the very back of the library, next to one of the windows where you could easily see the glittering snow-covered grounds. You had decided to wear your contact lenses today, not feeling like cleaning your glasses all throughout the day. Your hair was down, neatly tucked behind your ears as you poured over the homework you had gotten from Professor Slughorn in potions. You were so deep in concentration that you almost shrieked when Theodore plopped down in the seat beside you. You had a hand over your chest, as to calm your racing heart.

“Theo, you scared me.” You mumbled, as you tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of place back behind your ear. You turned to the side to look into his blue eyes. A smirk plastered on his face.

“Well, you would’ve heard me if you weren’t so focused on your…” his eyes travelled to your potions homework “homework, seriously y/n? We got that today?” He then questioned in mock offense.

“Well, I prefer to be on time, Theo.” You said pointedly. You had grown more confident around him and his friends since the time you shared breakfast together. Your crush on the boy beside you had not calmed one bit, however. Your feelings only grew stronger with the attention and the friendliness he had showed you. You were however unsure on his feelings towards you.

“Bella, it wouldn’t kill you to relax some time…” He trailed of as his eyes scanned your face; he was frowning slightly making your heart beat in worry. Did you have something on your face? Did he think you were ugly? Insecurities and anxious thoughts swivelled around in your head at his frown.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after gathering the courage. Anxiety rising in your throat.

“Where’s your glasses?” He asked. Your anxiety deflated as a balloon. Relief washed over you, calming your nerves, and a small laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Wh-what?” You asked between giggles.

“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” He asked again, eyebrows furrowed this time. He looked like a confused puppy the way he was tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Sometimes I’m too lazy?” You said amusedly, although it sounded more like a question.

“I like your glasses…” He mumbled under his breath. His comment made your heart flutter, but not as much as it did when he lifted his eyes to look at your face again. He was looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t experienced before. His eyes travelled across your face; it was almost like he was mapping out your features. There was still a frown on his face, but his eyes had softened. You felt your heartbeat increase again, the air around you now thick. You hadn’t noticed how close he was until it was too late. You could now see the darker greyish circle around the outer border of his iris. You could make out the individual lashes around his eyes. Your eyes travelled down and noticed a small scar on his cheek. A thin slightly pinker line no longer than a centimetre sitting there on his cheek. You had never seen it before. Before you could stop yourself, your fingers had reached out to trace the scar. You didn’t say anything, neither did Theodore, as you gently let your fingers graze his skin. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, seemingly enjoying your touch.

“Do you know how amazing you are?” His voice was hoarse as he muttered the question, his eyes still shut, your fingers still moving to trace his face.

“What?” You let out, almost breathless. Theodore nodded, his eyes fluttering open to look you in your eyes.

“Yeah, you’re nice, smart and beautiful.” He said it so easily, almost like a shrug as he leaned more into your touch. Your heart hammered in your chest as a blush rose on your cheeks.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You asked timidly. He let out a chuckle, although it did little to ease the tension.

“Haven’t you noticed?” He then asked to which you shook your head.

“Bella, everything about you is beautiful, you’re beautiful in your uniform, in your casual clothes, with your glasses, without your glasses, when your hair is like this,” he let his hand rake through your hair, “when it’s up,” you felt your blush increase, “and don’t get me started on that, it almost brings me to my knees.” He said as his thumb gently traced your hot cheek. Your pulse was thundering in your veins at his confession. Your hand had halted its movements as he was speaking. His other hand engulfed it as it was hovering awkwardly by his face. He moved to his lips and pressed a kiss to your pulse point on your wrist. Your breath hitched at his contact.

“There’s a reason I always call you bella, and go out of my way to speak to you, you know,” he mumbled against the delicate skin on your wrist, “it’s because you’re so god damned beautiful,” he said before kissing your wrist again, “and nice,”  and again, “and smart, too smart for me,” and again.

“Theo.” It came out more like a breath rather than an actual word. It almost didn’t feel real but when his eyes snapped up to yours again you knew it was. Before you had the chance to react his large hands found your waist and you were dragged into his lap. His eyes were so intense that it felt like someone punched the air out of your lungs.

“I love it when you call me that.” He whispered, one of his hands moving up from your waist to your cheek. His other hand was gripping the soft flesh of your waist almost like a lifeline. You let out a breath that sounded like a gasp.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and you nodded absentmindedly, your mind to busy making sure you were breathing and not fainting. His hand moved to grip the hair at the nape of your neck.

“I need to hear you say it.” He said, sounding almost strained. Your hands had moved up to hold onto his shoulders. His skin emitting warmth through his school dress shirt.

“Kiss me, Theo.” It didn’t sound like your voice; it sounded distant but none of that mattered when you felt his surprisingly soft lips on yours. He moved slowly, gently, almost like he was savouring the moment. His fingers gripped your waist even harder, like he was holding himself back. Your fingers moved from his strong shoulders to his soft hair. The strands tangled in your fingers as they moved to the nape of his neck, gently tugging on the hair there. Theodore let out a groan into your mouth as he pulled you even closer to his body. After some time, you pulled away for air. An intense blush spreading across your cheeks when your eyes met Theodore’s. He was smiling at you, a soft, genuine smile.

“Go on a date with me.” He said breathlessly. You let out a breathy giggle.

“Don’t you think we’re doing this backwards?” You asked, gesturing to the non-existent distance between your body. He shrugged confidently, his signature smirk stretching on his lips. His relaxed air seemed to seep into your body, making you relax completely in his grasp.

“Yeah, but my girl deserves a perfect first date.” He said, his voice confident and nonchalant at the same time making you let out a giggle.

“Your girl?” You asked, your brow raised in question, but he just merely shrugged.

“I didn’t hear you ask me to be your girl.” You teased with a laugh. He rolled his eyes jokingly before looking into your eyes with a soft, gentle look.

“Bella, will you be my girl?” He then asked, his voice so genuine and soft. You felt a smile spread on your face as you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“I would love to, Theo.” You said softly.

“Thank merlin I dropped my cigarettes that day, I would’ve never had the balls to speak to you otherwise.” Theodore let out in a sigh before he pulled you to him for another kiss.

“What does that mean?” You asked in between kisses.

“Don’t mind that now, bella.” He murmured before kissing you again, with much more intensity this time, but not before you let out happy giggles, making him smile against your lips.

Bonus scene:

You had been studying in the common room when you started to feel very stuffy, deciding that a walk through the castle would help with the antsy feeling. You had changed out of your school uniform, now sporting a pair of yoga pants and a large sweater. Your hair up in a ponytail and your glasses rested on your nose as you were strolling through the trophy room. When you walked around the corner that led out into the corridor you bumped into someone. With an “oof” you fell to the cold stone floor. A dull ache spread through your butt and hip as you rubbed it mumbling an “ouch” under your breath.

“Shit, fuck, sorry y/n.” A voice said above you as a large hand wrapped around your upper arm to help you up. When you looked up your eyes met the steely blue ones of Theodore as he steadied you with both his hands on your arms. The person who had spoken was his best friend, with whom you had bumped into. You tore your gaze from Theodore as you looked at Mattheo who was looking at you apologetically as he rubbed the back of his neck. You cracked a small smile at the ‘guilty school-boy’-look he had going on.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You said, the smile still playing on your lips. Your eyes gazed over the other two boys standing there, Lorenzo and Blaise, a small smile still on your lips until Theodore pulled your attention back to him with a gentle squeeze on your arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. His look made your breath hitch again before you managed a smile at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said softly and just as Theodore was about to answer something else caught your attention. It was Lorenzo and Blaise… acting out your interaction with Theodore… rather dramatically.

“My love, are you okay?” Blaise let out with a poor attempt at an Italian accent, burning passion in his voice as he violently grabbed Lorenzo, turning the boy to him, his other hand clutching his chest. Lorenzo, ever the actor, dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead, feigning exhaustion as he leaned back into Blaise.

“Oh yes, I’m so okay.” He somewhat gasped dramatically as Blaise put on a pained expression. You were in total shock, you could feel the blush violently rise on your cheeks, and you didn’t dare glance back at Theodore who stood somewhat behind you. Your eyes did however catch Mattheo’s. One look. One look was all it took for you and Mattheo to absolutely lose it. Mattheo was absolutely howling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. You were laughing so hard tears streamed down your face as you hid it in part embarrassment behind your hands. You saw how Mattheo had to sit down on the floor, his legs not being able to keep him up as he laughed at the complete idiocy of his two friends. You soon joined him on the floor when you saw how Lorenzo and Blaise continued to act like a doting pair in love. Blaise had now moved onto fussing over Lorenzo’s sweater. You were sure you were now beet red in the face. But you had to admit that it was nice that it was due to another reason than just embarrassment.

When the two of you had calmed down a bit you dared to look back at Theodore who was positively trying to murder his friends with his eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks. You had to admit that he was cute with the blush. Your eyes met Mattheo’s again, and it took every ounce of self-control your body possessed to not start laughing again. Your eyes drifted back to Lorenzo and Blaise who were now taking the bow for their excellent performance, making you giggle again before looking up at Theodore.

“Come on Theodore, it was funny.” You said as you held your hand out for him to help you up. You didn’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you didn’t question it as you were smiling broadly up at the boy before you. His large, warm hand wrapped around your own as he hoisted you up on your feet. Your back was turned to Lorenzo and Blaise, but you saw how Theodore sent them a glare that effectively meant “don’t fucking start”.

“I’m glad you enjoy the comedic abilities of my friends.” He muttered to you, his cheeks still the faintest shade of pink. You let out a giggle when you looked up at the tall boy before you.

[deerlysacred]

❦ one pot ⧼ soldier boy x witch fem!reader ⧽ | playing house

⟆ the first chapter of the ‘playing house’ series.

𐂂 𝄢 friday 04 : 32 p.m. { butcher left you to take care of this famous supe soldier boy for the weekend. }

𖣂 𝄢 fluff.

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own the boys or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

The safe house wasn't much to look at. A shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere, with peeling wallpaper and a draft that whistled through the cracks in the windows. Butcher and the others had left hours ago, and now it was just you and Soldier Boy.

While they were out playing detective, you were tasked with making sure Soldier Boy —Ben— didn't do something stupid, like get himself killed before the job was done or accidentally vaporize an entire city block in a fit of PTSD. Babysitting duty, basically. Butcher had even been patronizing enough to say, "Keep 'im happy. Maybe cook 'im a meal or somethin'." As if you weren't already the unofficial den mother of this ragtag mess of a team.

So. Cooking it was.

You figured stew would be easy enough. One pot. Minimal effort. Warm, fulling, impossible to fuck up. All you had to do was get through the next weekend without pissing off the most volatile superhuman in history or dying from secondhand smoke inhalation.

Simple.

Except Ben was watching you. Very closely.

Not in the way most men did— sly glances, stolen looks when they thought you wouldn't notice. No, his stare was direct and sharp. It was the kind of look that made you hyper-aware of every movement, of the slow stir of the spoon in your hand, of the subtle hitch in your breath.

Ignore him. He's like an old cat— if you acknowledge him, he'll just do it more.

He was sprawled on the couch, beer dangling lazily between his fingers, the flickering TV screen casting sharp shadows over his face. Even like this —half-drunk and half-bored— he had a presence that was impossible to ignore. Broad shoulders slouched, thick arms corded with muscle resting over the couch. His long legs were spread wide, the denim of his jeans stretching over thick thighs. "What the hell are you even makin' over there?" His gruff voice cut through the quiet, laced with skepticism. "Smells weird."

You glanced over your shoulder for a second, catching him scrunching his nose like a spoiled golden retriever. "It's stew." you said, giving the pot another slow stir.

Ben snorted, bringing the beer to his lips, his throat bobbing with each slow swallow. "Christ. What, Butcher put you up to this? Thought you were my fuckin' babysitter, not my goddamn housewife."

Heat crept up your neck at that, but you ignored it, choosing instead to focus on chopping up some carrots. "Yeah, well, I figured if I let you fend for yourself, you'd either burn this place down trying to use the microwave or get scammed into buying twenty-dollar fast food. So here we are."

"Dont need a goddamn caretaker too. I'm a grown man." he muttered into his beer, but there was something almost amused in his tone. Maybe even… appreciative? You weren't sure. His default setting was 'grumpy' so it was hard to tell.

You scrapped the chopped vegetables into the pot, watching as they disappear beneath the simmering broth. The aroma was actually kind of nice, despite what Ben said.

For a while, there was only the sound of bubbling stew and whatever car chase was happening on TV. Then, Ben spoke up again.

"Didn't know witches cooked." His voice was a low drawl, rough around the edges like he smoked a thousand cigarettes (which, let's be real, he probably had).

"What, you think I survive on eye of newt and bat wings?"

He shrugged, took another swig of his beer, and gestured vaguely at you with the bottle. "Dunno. Figured you just… I dunno, chant some shit and make food appear. Like poof— supper's on the table."

You rolled your eyes. "That's not how magic works."

"Then what's the point?"

Your grip tightened slightly on the spoon. "Oh, I don't know, maybe I like doing things with my hands."

You realized your mistake the second his lips quirked up into a shameless grin.

"Yeah? Bet you do."

You groaned, immediately regretting everything. Maybe if I just jumped out the window— no, bad plan, third floor. Maybe—

Ben chuckled, low and satisfied with himself, as he settled deeper into the couch. "What's in it anyway? Gotta admit it's starting to smell… decent."

You grinned, dropping some salt in with a flick of your fingers. "Beef, potatoes, carrots, some herbs— basic stuff."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do all this by yourself?"

You blinked, a little thrown by the question. "Uh… yeah?"

"Huh." He took another sip of his beer, gaze sliding over you in a way that feels almost calculating. "You'd make a good housewife."

You froze mid-stir, processing that absolute relic of a statement. Then, slowly, you turned to him, wooden spoon still in hand. "Excuse me?"

He smirked, completely unrepentant. "You heard me."

Your fingers tightened around the spoon. "I'll have you know I am not housewife material."

Ben scoffed. "Bullshit. You cook, you clean—"

"I don't clean for you—"

"—you do all that magic hocus-pocus shit, probably got some potion that makes a man sleep like a baby. Bet you'd keep a husband real happy." He leaned forward, propping an elbow on the coffee table, the grin on his face wicked. "Ever think about settling down, sweetheart?"

Your eye twitched. "Yeah. Every day. With arsenic."

Ben barked out a laugh, a real one, amused. "Shit, you got some bite to you, huh?"

You sighed, turning back to the stew before you say something that gets you vaporized. "I don't know what kind of women you were around back in the day, but I'm not some 1950s housewife."

"No shit, women these days got more bark than they used to."

You tossed a disbelieving glance his way. "Gee, I wonder why."

Ben shrugged like it was all the same to him. "Not complaining. I like a girl with some fight in her."

For some reason, that made your stomach do something weird. Not good weird, but… weird. You busied yourself with the stew. "You're impossible."

"I'm a fucking delight."

"Sure."

Silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional pop of the stew as it simmers. Ben watched you for a while, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. Then, surprisingly, he asked: "How'd you learn?"

You blinked. "Learn what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely to the stove, to you, to the whole cooking situation. "Somebody teach you?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the genuine curiosity. "Yeah… my mom."

Ben hummed, gaze drifting slightly. "That right?"

"Yeah." You stirred absently, the memory coming back to you. "She used to say that food is one of the simplest ways to care for someone. That a good meal can fix a lot of things."

Ben took that in, quiet for a beat. Then—

"That's some sappy shit."

You sighed. "Of course that's what you take from it."

He smirked. "Hey, you wanna cook for me, I'm not gonna complain. Just sayin' —a blowjob does the same thing and takes half the effort."

WHAT THE—

Your hand twitched violently, almost sending the spoon flying. Ben just laughed at your shock. You didn't throw the spoon at Ben's stupid face, but God, the temptation was there. Instead, you took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. The stew was done. It smelled rich and hearty, the kind of meal that sticks to your ribs. You grabbed two bowls, ladled some in, and set them on the table, sliding one towards Ben with a little more force than necessary.

"There. Eat."

Ben eyed the bowl, then you, smirking like he could hear every profanity currently screaming in your brain. "Didn't even spit in it. How sweet."

"Yet." you muttered under your breath as you sat across from him.

Ben picked up the spoon, scooping up a chunk of beef and potato. He gave it a cautious sniff —because apparently, despite surviving years of eating God-knows-what, he suddenly didn't trust food— before taking a bite.

His chewing slowed.

You watched him carefully. "Well?"

He didn't answer right away, just chewed, swallowed, and went in for another bite. Then another. His brow furrowed slightly, like was confused. "…Huh."

You raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Ben pointed his spoon at you. "This is actually pretty fuckin' good."

You snorted. "Wow, thanks. High praise from a guy who probably ate paint as a child."

Ben grinned. "And look how I turned out."

"Oh yeah. Perfect specimen." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help feeling a little pleased as he kept eating. Soldier Boy, the walking nuclear warhead, was sitting in front of you, wolfing down your cooking like it was the best thing he had in decades.

He gestured at the bowl. "So, this, uh… this is normal now?"

You tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Like… people don't eat TV dinners and spam anymore?"

"Okay, first of all, people still eat that stuff. But yeah, home-cooked meals are still a thing. Not everyone survives on frozen shit."

Ben grunted. "Didn't have time to cook back in the day. Always off doin' supe shit. When I was home, I had a hire girl do it."

You gave him a dry look. "Of course you did."

He smirked. "What? S'how it was. You'd have fit right in back then."

You scoffed. "Yeah, except I wouldn't have been cooking for you."

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he dug back into the stew. For a while, there was just the sound of eating— the quiet clink of spoons against bowls. It was oddly… peaceful.

Then, naturally, Ben ruined it.

"So, what's the deal with you and Butcher?"

You paused mid-bite, blinking at him. "What?"

Ben gestured vaguely. "You two got a thing or somethin'?"

You nearly choked on your food. "What—God, no!"

Ben smirked, clearly entertained by your horror. "That a little too much mustache for ya?" Caressing his beard.

You shuddered dramatically. "Ew. Please. I don't need that image in my head while I'm eating."

"Figured. Butcher doesn't seem like the type to go for weird little witch girls."

You narrowed your eyes. "Weird little witch girls? I'm gonna hex you."

Ben laughed, deep and throaty, one hand drumming against the coffee table. "So if it ain't Butcher, you got someone else?"

You frowned. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged, popping another bite into his mouth. "Just makin' conversation."

You studied him for a moment, then sighed, stabbing at your stew. "No. No one."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "What, a cute thing like you, no boyfriend?"

Your face heated slightly, but you rolled your eyes. "Oh, please. I don't have time for that. I've got more important things to worry about than—" You waved your spoon vaguely. "—dating."

Ben hummed, considering you. "That's a damn shame."

You cleared your throat. "Why? You wanna sign up?"

"Depends. Do I get more stew out of it?"

You scoffed. "Oh, that's what you're after. The food."

"Hey, I ain't gonna lie to you, sweetheart. You cook like this, a man starts thinkin' long term."

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly sprained something. When you were done, you stood up. "I'm gonna go wash my hands." Ben just grunted in acknowledgment.

You headed to the dingy little bathroom, shaking your head as the faucet rattled before spitting out a weak stream of warm water. Just as you were drying your hands with a towel, you heard it—

Ben's voice, raised and pissed.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh, God. Nononononononono…

You barely dried your hands before rushing out of the bathroom, half-expecting to find him punching holes in the walls or squaring up against some poor delivery guy. Instead, you skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room and found him standing there, broad-shouldered and brimming with barely restrained fury, gripping your phone in one massive hand like he was debating whether to crush it.

"You answered my phone?!" you yelled.

Ben turned his head, green eyes blazing, irritation sharp in the hard set of his jaw. "You didn't answer it," he shot back. "Thought it was somethin' important! Instead, some dickhead named Greg starts yappin' in my ear about 'overdue payments' and 'interest rates'— what the hell kinda scam you wrapped up in?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait— you talked to the bank man?"

Ben crossed his arms, his expression pure fury. "Damn right I did."

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "Oh my god. What did you say?"

"I told 'im to go fuck himself, that's what I said! Told 'im he's a snake oil peddler and if he wants his money so bad, he can come down here and fight me for it like a man."

Your jaw dropped. "BEN."

"What?"

"That was my credit card company! I owe them money!"

Ben blinked, his green eyes zoning out for a second. "…So?"

"So, now they probably think I'm trying to threaten them instead of paying them!"

Ben scoffed, waving a hand. "Good. Maybe they'll stop calling, then. Bunch of bloodsuckers, the lot of 'em."

You groaned again, stomping over and snatching your phone from his grip. "Unbelievable. You threatened my bank!"

Ben smirked, utterly unrepentant, his lips quirking like this was the most fun he had in weeks. "Ain't my fault they folded like wet paper. Bunch of pussies."

"You told Greg to fight you over my credit card bill!"

His smirk widened, slow and wolfish, dimples cutting deep into his bearded cheeks. "Hell yeah, I did. Told 'im I'd meet him anywhere, anytime. Guy backed off real quick."

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and horrified.

"Y'know what?" You inhaled sharply, shaking your head as you turned away. "I'm just gonna pretend this didn't happen." With that, you flopped onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and covering your face with it, muffling a scream.

You were never letting him near your phone again.

Later that evening, after the dishes had been washed (mostly by you, with Ben half-assedly drying them and complaining the whole time), you made coffee. Because let's be honest, after that absolute disaster Ben caused, you needed caffeine. Badly. You brewed it. Strong, dark, and just slightly sweet.

Ben eyed the two steaming mugs as you set them on the table. "You drink coffee at night?"

You shrugged. "Why not?"

He scoffed, grabbing his. "No wonder you're so high-strung."

You shot him a flat look. You wanted to say 'Says the guy who's been vibrating with unresolved rage since 1984.' but you bit your tongue. Knowing which lines to not cross.

Ben took a sip, his expression barely changed, but the way his shoulders loosened just slightly told you that he approved the taste.

You curled up on the couch, hands wrapped around your mug. "So… now that we're stuck together for the weekend, what do you usually do to pass the time? Besides smoking, drinking, and picking fights with my credit card company?"

Ben smirked over the rim of his mug. "That about covers it, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes. "Figures."

For a while, silence settled. Not awkward, not tense. Just… quiet. The only sounds were the occasional clink of a mug against the table, the low hum of the fridge, and the faint noise of a distant car passing outside.

Then Ben spoke.

"You really think a meal can fix shit?"

You blinked, turning to him. "Huh?"

"That thing you said earlier. About food fixin' things." He didn't look at you, just stared at his coffee. "That just some witchy sentimental crap or do you actually believe it?"

You hesitated, then answered honestly. "I think… it's not about the food itself. It's about what it represents. Taking care of someone. Letting them know they're not alone." You traced the rim of your mug. "Even if it's just for one meal. It's a moment outside of everything else— outside of all the chaos. A moment where you sit down, you eat, and you know, for just a little while, that you're okay. That someone thought enough of you to keep you warm, to make sure you had something real in front of you. Then adding another meal, another evening onto it. Then another, then another… Building something safe and sound with a person."

Ben was quiet. His fingers tapped against his mug in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. Then—

"…No one ever did that for me."

Your chest tightened. You turned to him fully, but his expression was unreadable, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something distant.

"…Not even your team?" you asked softly.

Ben huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. Those assholes? They couldn't wait to get rid of me."

You frowned. "Payback."

Ben's grip tightened around his mug. "Yeah. Bunch of goddamn backstabbers. Lied to my fuckin' face. My own team— people I trusted."

The weight in his voice made something twist in your gut. Crimson Countess was already dead. You didn't ask for details— if Ben had killed her, you doubted there was much left to find. But the others… they were still out there. Still breathing. They lived freely while Soldier Boy was trapped in there for years. You did know his reasons to want revenge. Or at least, you had an idea. The experiments, the isolation, the years of being kept in a frozen hellhole with nothing but agony and rage to keep him company.

"…That's why you want revenge."

His eyes flicked to you.

You didn't look away. "I understand that. I may not be in your shoes but I can't even guess how much I would want to get revenge if I was."

Ben exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as he shook his head. "They don't get to walk free after what they did." His jaw clenched. "They don't get to live their goddamn lives while I spent forty years rotting in a cage."

You swallowed. You could hear it in his voice, that deep, burning rage. But beneath it, buried under layers of anger and bravado— you could hear the hurt.

You hesitated, then you decided to say it anyway.

"…What if it doesn't make you feel better?"

Ben's brows furrowed. "What?"

You held your coffee a little tighter. "What if you get your revenge, but it doesn't change anything? What if it doesn't make the pain go away?"

Ben stared at you.

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Then, he scoffed, shaking his head. "Christ. You always this fuckin' sentimental?"

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Just something to think about."

Ben didn't respond right away. He just took another slow sip of his coffee, his gaze distant, like he was turning your words over in his head.

For once, he had nothing smart-assed to say. And for some reason, that unsettled you more than anything else.

You pushed yourself up with a yawn, your eyelids getting heavier. "Alright. I'm calling it. I need sleep."

"Tch. Lightweights, all of you."

You ignored that. "There's a room for you down the hall. I set up the bed earlier."

That got his attention. He turned, giving you a slow once-over before he smirked. "That right? Real cozy set-up we got here. What, you tucking me in too, sweetheart?"

Your eye twitched. "No. But I will hex you into insomnia if you keep pushing it."

Ben chuckled, low and amused, but thankfully he didn't tease further. He stretched— an obnoxiously big stretch, broad chest rising, arms flexing, before he finally stood with a groan. "Fine, fine. Since you're gettin' all cranky."

You rolled your eyes, already padding toward the bedrooms. The safe house was small, so it wasn't much of a walk. Just two rooms, side by side, with a narrow hallway between them. You stopped in front of your door, reaching for the knob, when you heard Ben behind you.

"This one mine?" He nudged the door beside yours with his boot.

"Yeah." You stifled another yawn. "There should be clean blankets in there."

Ben huffed. "You really went all out, huh?"

You glanced over your shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a tired yet amused look.

You shrugged. "Just figured you'd rather not sleep on a couch that smells like stale beer and mix of suspicious liquids."

Ben snorted. "Sweetheart, I spent years sleeping in a fuckin' icebox. I ain't picky."

There was something about the way he said it— too casual, too offhand— that made your chest tighten a little.

You hesitated. There was a beat of quiet, only the faint hum of the old heater filling the space between you. You shifted on your feet. "…Well. If you need anything, just—" You gestured vaguely towards the wall between your rooms. "Bang or… whatever."

Ben's lips quirked. "That an invitation?"

Your fingers tightened around the doorknob, nails pressing into the cool metal. The way he looked at you now —hooded gaze, mouth curled just enough to be tempting— it sent something warm curling in your gut, heat prickling at your neck.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, gripping the door handle. "Goodnight, Ben."

"Night, witchy."

You groaned, stepping into your room and shutting the door with a click. But as you laid back down, the sounds of the apartment settling around you, the knowledge that he was right there, just on the other side of the wall, was… strangely comforting. You didn't want to think further why you felt that…

[newtkive]

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

__

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that’s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨🤗and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

_

lmk if you want to be tagged!

[cautotelic]

Chapter 4: The Fall

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

first tag-list!!: @trexsuit @lez-zuha @pearldaisy

A/N: don't mind me just pulling at your heart strings... again :))

I walk down the corridor, my steps echoing off the walls as I enter the training arena. All the warriors are rushing around getting weapons and putting on their battle armor. I see Ambessa donning hers. She momentarily glances up at me, expressionless before turning to one of her soldiers. Someone steps in front of me.

“What’s going on? Where is everyone going?” I ask as I try to get around her.

Wherever I move, the girl moves to get in my way. She looks at me. “I can’t tell you anything, ma’am. I’ve been ordered not to.”

“Like hell you aren’t, what's going on?” My voice raises on its own accord grabbing the attention of a few of the warriors surrounding us. 

In just a few seconds Ambessa pushes her way through the crowd, grabbing my arm and pulling me from the crowd. We stand outside in the corridor. 

I cross my arms over my chest. “What is going on?”

“We're going to battle,” she says like it’s nothing.

“With who?”

She huffs annoyed and irritated. “With your father.”

My heart sinks. Although I don’t particularly care for my father, I know a lot of bloodshed will come from this battle, innocent lives lost. “Is this because of what happened in the library last week? If you're upset with me, be upset with me. But don’t send your soldiers out to get slaughtered,” I plead.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You doubt my army?”

I sigh. “You don’t understand, they,” I say motioning to the warriors. “Are not ready for the sheer magnitude of magic that you are throwing them into. They can train with me all day and night and never know the full extent of it.”

It’s clear that my words go in one ear and out the other. She scoffs and goes to walk past me and I get in her way. “Ambessa, please.”

“I have to defend Noxus. Get out of my way,” she says harshly.

She tries to push past me again but I hold her at arm's length. “You’re going to get yourself killed and you can’t defend Noxus if you’re dead. So I urge you to reconsider,” I assert. Something in me bubbles up, something I’ve repressed for so long it aches.

She lifts her head. “I have to go,” she murmurs.

Her hand comes up and wipes a tear that I didn’t know I had shed as she cups my chin in her hand. I pull away from her touch. She opens her mouth to say something.

“General, we’re ready to depart,” one of the soldiers announces from behind me. Just as quickly as it was there, the soft, tenderness is gone from Ambessa as she steps back into her General role.

She looks down at me one last time. “Good, the faster we get there the faster we get to come home,” she says as she passes me. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was keeping. My back hits the wall behind me, I slide down as I stare at the wall across from me. Lost.

•••

“When you attack your opponent, you need to be quick and quiet. So absolutely-”

“No giggling,” the children say in unison as they sit on the training mats. 

I nod, pleased. “Exactly. Man you guys are quick learners,” I praise, my hands resting on my staff. 

One of the younger children of the group comes to me and tugs at my pant leg. I pick her up and rest her on my hip. “What do you need, miss ma’am?” I ask with a warm smile.

The little girl giggles and points at my hands. “Do the thing,” she whispers. Her whispering isn’t that good and the rest of the children hear what she says and join in, urging me to use my magic.

With the little girl still in my arms I kneel down on the mats. “Fine, fine,” I chuckle. I flick my hand and a newt appears on the mats in front of the children. A series of ‘awe’s’ comes from them as the newt rolls over and jumps around, even at times jumping into the children's laps. Seeing the children enjoy the power I was gifted and not be afraid of me, heals something in me, an old wound not forgotten. 

Someone clears their throat by the door of the small training area, Mana. “Ma’am, it’s time to go,” she informs with a sorry smile.

I get up from the floor and the children look at me sadly. “Now you guys don’t get into too much trouble, alright? I’ll see you all on Wednesday next week.” They all get up and give me a big hug before Mana and I walk out of the small building.

Stepping outside I shiver before donning my coat as Mana and I walk back to the palace. “Ma’am that is the 3rd time this week that I’ve found you at the children's training center,” she notes worriedly.

It’s been nearly a month since Ambessa and her forces left for battle and I’m worried to say the least. For the first week or so nobody would tell me anything other than ‘they’re alive’ and now I don’t even get that. 

I turn to Mana. “It helps distract me. I feel… useful.”

She only smiles. On our way back to the palace we stop and buy some fresh fruit and a light snack. 

I help Mana prepare dinner and we eat together in the kitchen. Once I’m done eating I head off to bed.

•••

A loud bell startles me from my sleep. Getting up I make my way out of my room and into the hallway. I follow the noise of rushing footsteps and loud voices to the training arena. The doors leading outside are wide open as soldiers rush in from the cold. They settle down on the mats and await medical treatment from the physicians on standby. 

My eyes flutter across the room going from one person to the next unknowingly looking for someone. My heart starts to pound as my search comes up empty. I see Rictus being helped in by another soldier and that’s confirmation enough.

If he's alive, she's alive. He wouldn’t let her die.

I’m pushed out of the area by the physicians telling me that I can’t be in there right now. Right before the doors of the arena close I look one more time.

The walk back to my room is filled with dread.

Did she really go out there and get herself killed? I hope she is alive so I can kill her myself.

I slip into my room and close the door before turning around and freezing. 

Ambessa stands in my room silent as she quietly takes me in from head to toe. “Hi,” she says softly as if talking to a wild dog, waiting for me to bite.

I look at her, really look at her. Her eyes are soft but her body is battered. A small cut is seen on her cheekbone and by the way she’s holding her side, she has a big injury.

“Why didn’t you go to the physicians to get patched up?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

She looks down at herself. “It’s nothing. I wanted to come see you.” She makes a move to come near me and I step back. “You're angry.”

I don’t reply to her comment. “And you're filthy, take a shower,” I say as I go to my bedside table, not sparing her a glance.

I hear her sigh before hearing heavy footsteps and the bathroom door close shut. Exiting the room I walk the short distance to her bedroom and get her some clothes to dress into before heading back. When I walk in she’s still in the shower so I open the door to the bathroom and place the clothes on the counter.

I rummaged under the sink for the first aid kit I’d taken from the medical wing, back from when I didn’t trust anyone here. As I place it on the counter the water to the shower shuts off. Without looking I hand Ambessa something to cover her chest, underwear, and cover shorts. Without complaint she gets dressed.

“When you’re done sit down on the edge of the tub,” I say as I finish gathering all the supplies I need.

With a deep breath I stand up and turn to walk towards her, her eyes follow me. When I come to stand in front of her I sigh and look her over. There’s not many injuries but it’s enough to be concerned. I shake my head and get started.

Slowly and attentively I work on patching her stomach up, removing any dirt and scrap metal. Ambessa doesn’t make a sound, the only way I know she’s in some kind of pain is her stomach tensing and relaxing. I’m focused as I work.

Once her stomach is bandaged I begin working on the smaller cuts that litter her arms and legs before moving to the one on her face. I inspect the cut, turning her head from side to side, my thumb absentmindedly rubbing over her other cheek. I pull away and get the iodine to clean it up.

“Say something,” she mutters. I ignore her and move to put the solution on her wound and she grabs my hand. I shut my eyes and take a breath before looking down at her.

“What exactly do you want me to say, General?” I spit out bitterly.

My tone clearly surprises her and she looks at me sternly. “Watch your tone.”

I scoff out a laugh. “Watch my tone? No, how about you watch yours, you…” I stop myself from continuing, not wanting to say anything I’ll regret. Ripping my hand from her grip I finish patching up her cheek before turning to put my stuff away. 

I feel her eyes burning into my back but I don’t spare her a glance. I wash my hands scrubbing more than I should and I don’t notice my hands going raw, beginning to burn until much larger hands come from behind me and pull my hands away from each other.

I huff, hanging my head as I feel Ambessa’s sturdy frame behind me. “You could have died,” I mutter as I remove myself from her, walking into my room. She follows behind going to sit on my bed.

“But I’m here now, alive and well,” she admits nonchalantly.

I look at her in disbelief and shake my head. “You call that big gash on your side ‘alive and well’?”

Her eyes trace my face, taking in every detail. “Come here,” she says.

“No, you can’t just brush that kind of thing off like that you could have-“

“Stop being stubborn and come over here. Now,” she orders, her voice growing stern.

I stare at her for a second, challenging her. She clicks her tongue and tilts her head towards me, her eyebrow quirked up. “Don’t make me come over there and get you, child.”

I roll my tongue on the inside of my cheek, huffing before walking over to her. I stop a little bit away from her and she grumbles something under her breath before hooking her finger into the waistband of my pants and pulling me to stand between her legs. I cross my arms as she looks up at me, her hand moves to my waist, her thumb rubbing small circles into the exposed skin.

I don’t look at her as she speaks but she moves to try to find my gaze. She takes my hand, grasping it in hers as she guides my hand to her body. Placing my hand on her chest she holds it there with her own. I feel her heart beating, strong and unmoving, undoubtedly her. 

She gently turns my face to look at her. “See? I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere…”

My facade drops for a split second as I let myself feel what I’ve been bottling up for months before I come to my senses. I pull my hand away from her. “You should get some rest,” I say quietly as I walk into the bathroom to retrieve her clothes. 

When I come back I hand the clothes to Ambessa and she takes them before setting them on the bed beside her. I huff and run my hand down my face. “Put the clothes on.”

She sighs. “I won’t apologize for leaving, it needed to be done and has been a long time coming.”

I huff a laugh and look down at the floor. “And you say I’m the stubborn one…” I mutter under my breath. I walk towards the door opening it. “Get some rest,” I finalize quietly before slipping out of my room, leaving Ambessa.

[thedraculacat]

Locked In ೃ⁀⤵

newt x reader

masterlist

synopsis: literally inspired by that gif lol. you're trapped in the glade's slammer after breaking the rules, and find yourself under the mercy of newt. and when he finally lets you out, the tension rises into something neither of you can ignore.

w/c: 4.5k

The sound of boots against the hard ground echoes throughout the Glade as Gally drags you toward the slammer. His hand grips your wrists tightly behind your back, keeping you restrained. You kick and scream, your anger bubbling over, but it doesn’t do much to stop him. Your voice raises in frustration, but his grip tightens, inevitably silencing you.

“You shouldn’t have done something so damn stupid,” Gally spits, his words sharp. “Now look where you are.”

“You don’t understand,” you huff one last time before shoved into a holding cell with a rough push that sends you crashing against the opposite side. The bang of the wooden door shut rings in your ears, a sound that makes the anger boil inside you even more.

Gally’s mocking laughter follows as he locks the door. “If you just follow the damn rules, you wouldn’t be in here, you know,” he sneers, his eyes cold with disdain. “Thought you could take a little shortcut in the Maze, huh? You’re not Minho. Think you’re special? Got girl privileges?” He steps back, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly pleased with his punishment for you. “Well, guess what. You don’t. You’re just another slinthead who doesn’t know how to follow orders.”

You glare at him from behind the bars, your chest heaving with frustration. You had thought you’d found a shortcut- something that could make the run a little easier- but you did disobey Minho and now you’re here.

The Gladers nearby begin to gather, hearing the commotion. They start whispering and muttering, curious about what’s happening. You try to explain, but Gally’s voie cuts through the air. 

“Enough!” He slaps the window of your cell, his voice harsh. “You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right. You wanna put all of us a risk just ‘cause you couldn’t follow one damn rule?” He says dramatically before turning to the group. “This is what happens when you don’t listen to the Keepers!”

You grind your teeth and try to speak again, trying to explain your side, but as you step toward the bars, Gally kicks the door with a loud bang. You wince at the noise, and your body jerks back.

“Shut it!” he snaps.

You reach for the bars to steady yourself, but just as you do, he steps on your hand with his boot. The sharp pain shoots up your arm as your fingers curl around the wood, but you hold on, refusing to let him in. Only once he pulls away do you let go and cradle it against your chest as the pain only worsens.

From the crowd gathering outside the cell, you catch Newt’s eye. His gaze is heavy, full of something… concern, maybe? He watches you carefully, though he doesn’t step any closer. He looks between Gally and you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but it’s quickly gone, replaced by his usual calm demeanor. 

Alby steps forward, his expression cross as he eyes Minho. “What happened out there, Minho?” As he asks, the others fall quiet, waiting for the answer.

Minho, seething with frustration, paces in front of Alby. His hands are balled into fists, and his face is a mixture of anger and disappointment. “She disobeyed. I told her to take the safer route, but she thought she knew better and went off in another direction. The Maze is dangerous enough without people making stupid decisions like that. Could have been another Griever.”

“But there wasn’t!” you cry out.

Newt listens quietly, his brow furrowing as Minho speaks. His gaze drifts back to you, watching your tense posture, your frustration clear as you attempt to pull yourself together.

You open your mouth to speak again, to say more, that you really had found a shortcut, but Gally doesn’t give you the chance. He kicks at the door yet again. The impact rattles the wood and your eyes shoot up at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!” He says dangerously, a threat lingering behind his words. You stop trying to speak, but the answer remains in your chest, gnawing at you.

Newt’s gaze softens, and for a moment, you think he might intervene. But instead, he looks at Alby, his voice low but firm as he tries to calm the situation. “This punishment… it might be too harsh, don’t you think?”

Thomas steps up beside him in agreement. “Maybe there’s a better way to handle this, Alby. She made a mistake, yeah, but this punishmen doesn’t seem fair.”

Alby watches them both closely, considering their words. After a tense pause, he turns to Gally, who has a smug grin on his face. “Well, then what do you say we do?” Alby challenges, his voice serious. “If we let her out, she could just do it all over again. What’s stopping her from taking off right now.”

“I mean, she’s not stupid,” Newt offers.

Gally shrugs, nonchalantly, clearly uninterested in taking any more responsibility for this situation. “I’m fine with that, if Newt comes up with a better punishment,” he says, crossing his arms.

Alby sighs, his patience running thin. “Dismiss the group,” he says, signaling for everyone to go back to work. “We’ll figure this out later.”

The others slowly begin to drift away, but Newt and Thomas linger, giving you a sympathetic look. Thomas steps forward, his voice soft but firm. “Come on,” he says gently to Newt. “Let’s go. We can think of something.”

Newt’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his gaze full of quiet understanding, though he doesn’t speak. He turns and follows Thomas, leaving you standing in the cold, concrete slammer with the weight of Gally’s words still echoing in your ears.

Time feels endless in the slammer. Your mind races over the last few hours, replaying the argument, the anger, and Gally’s treatment. Your hand throbs, still tender from where Gally had stepped on it. The bruise is already forming, your skin turning a purple-blue, but there’s little you can do about it.

You’re sitting on the wobbly chair, knees pulled up to your chest when you hear the faint sounds of someone’s footsteps. You look up, your eyes meeting Newt’s as he bends down, holding a tray with a simple meal- bread, some dried meat, and water.

“Alby asked me to keep an eye on you,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “Make sure you’re alright.” His gaze drifts to your hand, still held close to your chest. “And that needs looking after. Let me see.”

Silently, you put your hand through the wooden bars, offering it to him with a small wince. Newt doesn’t hesitate as he kneels down just outside your cell, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he carefully unwraps a piece of cloth from his pocket to tend to your injury. The motion is gently, but you can tell there’s a certain tension- some kind of internal struggle.

He’s close, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath when he leans in to bandage your hand. His hands are steady, but you notice how his eyes dart up to meet yours now and then, as though he’s unsure of something. For a moment, neither of you says a word, the silence hanging thick.

You break it first, the quiet too much to bear. “Can I have the food?” you ask, surprised as the sharpness in your voice despite trying to keep it neutral. “Please.”

“Oh, right.” Newt blinks, caught off guard. “Sorry.” He hands the tray through the bars, and you accept it gratefully, the warmth of the food comforting you as you eat a piece of bread, the silence continuing between you.

But Newt doesn’t leave, still kneeling outside the cell, his eyes distant. You notice that he’s staring at you with an odd expression, something still hidden behin his gaze. His mouth opens as though he’s about to say something, but he hesitates. The words seem to get stuck.

“What?” you ask, crossing your arms as you take another bite of food.

Finally, he clears his throat, shifting his weight from one knee to the other, a little uncomfortable. “You know, Gally… he’s right,” he says, his voice low. “You can’t just do whatever you want to out there. I know you thought you were making a smart decision, but it’s dangerous.” He looks at you, and there’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before. “You’ve got to be more careful, or someone could get hurt. I… I don’t want that.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words and the disappointment that lingers in the air. “I figured you’d say that,” you mutter, looking down at the food. “I understand.”

Newt nods, but his gaze lingers on you, conflicted. “Look, I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I need to keep you in here for a little while longer. Gally’s got a point, and I can’t just let you off the hook. Not when you could put everyone else at risk.”

You don’t look at him as he finishes, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You’d known this would happen. It doesn’t make it any easier to hear, though. “Yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the concrete ground. “I get it.”

There’s a long pause. Newt stands up slowly, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. He looks at you one more time before he steps back. “I’ll… I’ll check on you later.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but it’s all he can offer.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you sit in silence, the last words echoing in your mind. You had figured this would happen. Still, it doesn’t make it any less painful. Especially not from your friend- not from Newt.

Newt sits at the table, his posture stiff, his hands clasped in front of him. His gaze is focused on the wooden surface of the table but his mind is elsewhere. Gally leans back in his chair, arms crossde, his expression bored yet still intensely judgemental. The other Keepers and Alby have gathered as well, along with Thomas who was too invested to let anyone keep him out.

“Alright,” Alby begins his voice firm. “We need to figure out what to do with Y/N. She’s broken the rules, and now we have to decide what happens next. Newt and Thomas have agreed that keeping her in the slammer for the time being is best.”

Gally scoffs immediately. “And she should stay in there until she learns what happens when you can’t follow a Keeper’s rules,” he says, shooting a glance at Newt, as if to remind him of what’s at stake. “I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. She’s made her choice. Now she’s facing the consequences.”

Newt’s eyes flicker up at Gally, but he doesn’t respond immediately. He looks over at Thomas, who’s been quiet up until now, leaning forward in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with this whole situation.

“That’s ridiculous,” Thomas scoffs. “You can’t keep her in there forever. She’s not going to learn anything if you just lock her up and leave her in isolation.” He sounds frustrated, as if the injustice of it all is getting to him. “This isn’t the way to handle it.”

Alby holds up a hand, silencing the room. “Until she learns her lesson,” he says evenly, not giving in to any other frustrations. “We need to show her the consequences. Once she understands the importance of following the rules, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Minho tilts his head skeptically. “And when will we know for sure that she’s learned this ‘lesson’?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re just going to leave one of my runners in the slammer indefinitely?”

Alby’s gaze sharpens. “Newt will decide when she’s ready. I trust him to handle this properly.”

Everyone falls silent at Alby’s words. The weight of the decision hangs in the air. Newt shifts awkwardly in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly against the wood. He doesn’t seem to know how to answer, torn between his new assignment and his personal feelings for you. His jaw tightens, but he remains silent, his expression unreadable.

Minho’s sharp gaze narrows at Newt. “Newt? You know it’s gonna be hard for him to make this call, right? He’s too close to her. He likes-” Minho stops himself short, and suddenly, all eyes are on Newt.

Alby looks at him, waiting for confirmation. “Is that true, Newt?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but still carrying the same weight of leadership.

Newt freezes, the question hitting him like a sudden wave. He looks at Alby, at everyone else in the room, still unsure how to respond. His mind races, his emotions tangled. He doesn’t want to betray his feelings, but he also can’t let his personal connection cloud his judgement. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice rough. He avoids eye contact, feeling the heat of everyone’s gaze on him. “I’ll make sure she learns, that’s all.”

Gally scoffs again, clearly unimpressed. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbles. “We’re wasting time. Let me deal with her. I can keep her in line. We don’t need Newt all emotional about it.”

Thomas straightens in his chair, his gaze sharp as he glares at Gally. “You think you can handle her better than someone she’s close to?” He says, challenging. “You think keeping her locked up in a cage forever will teach her anything? You’ve got a way with people, gally, sure, but I don’t think you’d do any better.”

Gally’s eyes narrow as he leans forward, his fists clench on the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, shuck face?” he snaps, his voice threatening.

Thomas doesn’t back down. “It means you’re not the right person to handle this,” he replies, not flinching. “This is about more than a stupid punishment, it’s about understanding, and I don’t think you’re the best person to help her do that.”

The tension between them only grows by the second. Newt watches, his gaze flickering between them, his hands tightening in his lap.

Alby slams his hand down on the table, breaking the moment. “Enough!” he snaps. “We’re not going to make this about who can handle her better. We need to focus on the bigger picture. We’ll let Newt make the call- he’s in charge for now.”

Newt’s head snaps up at Alby’s words, and now, the weight of Alby’s decision presses down on his shoulders. The room is silent, everyone waiting for him to speek. He looks at them all, trying to make sense of everything swirling in his mind, but all he feels is the burden of what comes next.

“I’ll deal with her, don’t worry,” Newt says softly as he stands up and pushes in his chair. “I’ll let her out when she’s ready.”

Newt’s footsteps echo softly as he approaches, the food in his hand a small comfort in the otherwise shitty situation. He hands it to you, and without hesitation, you devour the food. It’s almost comical how fast you eat, as if you’re starving, and in some ways, you might be.

Newt watches you with a mix of concern and amusement. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he says quietly, his voice soft as he leans against the bars, still watching you. “I was with the others, figuring out what to do with you.”

You pause for a second to gulp down the last bit of food and look up at him, feeling the pang of uncertainty that’s been gnawing at you since you got thrown in the slammer. “How long do you think Gally’ll keep me in here?” you ask, your voice filled with frustration.

He hesitates, and his eyes flicker away from yours, his lips tightening. “I… I don’t know,” he lies, his voice steady, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes.

You groan, frustrated by his answer, and throw your head back against the cold concrete wall behind you. “Gally’s such an ass for doing this to me,” you mutter.

Newt lets out a low breath, nodding. He thinks to himself more than he speaks, but it’s clear that part of him agrees with you. Gally’s methods are harsh, and though he knows discipline is necessary, something about all of this feels wrong to Newt.

He shifts slightly, leaning back more comfortable against the bars, his gaze never leaving you. “If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be in here at all,” he says softly, as if he doesn’t want anyone to overhear, though it’s just the two of you.

You look at him, surprised by his words, and raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You’d just let me out of here if I asked?” You shake your head. “That’s not what you really think. ‘Sides, Minho would never let that happen. He’s pissed.”

Newt raises an eyebrow in response, slightly reading but still uncertain. “Am I that easy to read?” he replies with a small smile, before his expression shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But… why did you do it? You know, disobey Minho like that? You were all on your way out.”

You exhale slowly, a mix of frustration and determination in your voice as you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “I know that maze better than anyone, that includes Minho. He doesn’t think so, but I’ve been studying that map every second I get. You’ve seen me leave dinner early before. I saw you watching me.”

His eyes widen like he’d just been caught, but he tries his best to play it cool. “I’ve seen you slip out,” he admits, recalling those quiet moments when he watched you disappear into the map room while the others were still eating. “But I didn’t know you were… studying it that hard.”

You give a soft chuckle, shrugging. “I’m just trying to figure out a way out of here. I ended to know that place better than anyone. If I can find a way to help, I’ll do it. That’s all I was trying to do. We got in an argument and that’s when Gally spotted me and, well, you know the rest.”

Newt nods thoughtfully. There’s a small, comfortable silence between you two, and for a moment, it almost feels like everything is normal- like the maze and Gally’s rules are miles away.

You smile at him, your voice teasing. “But hey, don’t get any ideas. Just because you brought me food doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for keeping me in here.” You try to lighten the mood, but the hint of sincerity in your eyes makes him pause.

“I’m not so sure you’ll forgive me for anything,” he says with a small smirk, his voice is low, but there’s something vulnerable about it.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you tease, and he laughs too, the sound genuine, something you haven’t heard in a long time.

The moment between you two stretches, and Newt’s smile fades slightly as he takes in the quiet connection you’ve shared. His eyes flicker to the ground, and when he speaks again, his voice is almost hesitant. “You were right, you know. About before. I’m sorry… but I think Gally’s right. You need to stay here for now. It’s the only way to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

You stop smiling as his words settle heavily around you. “Yeah, I know you do. But at least I can’t fuck up Minho’s plans from in here.”

Newt shakes his head, smiling softly before looking back up at you again. “I can’t imagine what he thought in his head when he turned around and saw you running off the other way.”

“Nothing but angry cursing, from what Hank told me,” you laugh.

Nearby, Minho and Thomas stand in the shadows, watching the interaction between you and Newt from a distance. Minho’s arms are crossed, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him.

“How long do you think it’ll take Newt to cave and let her out?” Minho asks, his voice low, but laced with a hint of impatience. He leans against a tree, observing the way Newt is still talking to you through the bars.

Thomas shrugs, his gaze flicking between the two of you. “He’ll wait the right amount of time. He knows what’s at stake.”

Minho shake shis head, a small smirk on his lips. “That girls’ got a good way with words. She’s convincing,” he mutters, watching the way you and Newt laugh together. There’s something about it that makes him uneasy, though he doesn’t admit it aloud.

“You think she’s lying to him?” Thomas asks, eyeing Minho curiously.

Minho looks at Thomas, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “No… the opposite. She likes him, too, you know,” he says, his voice quiet, almost frustrated.

Thomas looks at you and Newt again. He watches you both laughing, the easy connection between you two, before he turns away with his lips pressed together in thought.

Minho scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, he’ll cave for sure,” he mutters before walking away, leaving Thomas to linger, his mind turning over the situation. He just hadn’t thought about it like that too much before.

Minho’s footsteps approach this time, his figure outlined by the sun setting behind him. You’re sitting on the cold floor with your legs crossde, and the hum of the day is quieting down. He stops in front of your cell, kneeling down with an exasperated sigh. He tosses you an apple, which you catch easily, and gives you a teasing look.

“How you holdin’ up, girly?” he asks, his voice dripping with that same cocky attitude.

You take a bite of the apple, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Better if you’d just tell the others I knew what I was doing,” you shoot back with a sarcastic smirk. “I’m also guessing you miss me, judging by your visit after only three days.”

Minho chuckles, but doesn’t back off. “You seem like you’re doing just fine with your boyfriend checking in on you constantly,” he teases, crossing his arms.

You scoff and throw him a look. “Jealous?”

Minho huffs, shaking his head. “Please. You think I care if you two make heart eyes at each other through those bars?”

You smirk, tilting your head. “You sure about that? Cause you’re the one here to check on me now.”

Minho scoffs, arms resting on his knees as he gives you an infruiatingly confident grin. “Maybe I just like watching you suffer.”

You gasp dramatically as you reach for the bars, closing the space between the two of you. “Wow. And here I thought we were good friends.”

“Friends?” Minho echos, feighing shock. “That’s rich, coming from the girl who ditches me at dinner every night to go obsess over those damn maps.”

You shrug, smirking. “Can’t help it if I’ve got a brain, Minho. You should try it sometime.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a small laugh. “You know, I almost respect it. Almost.” He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you in a way that’s just a little too assessing. “You always this stubborn?”

You lean against the bars, your smirk widening. “You always this nosy?”

Minho chuckles, but there’s something behind his eyes- something unreadable. He holds your gaze a beat too long before standing up. “You know, if you ever get tired of playing favorites,” he says nodding in the direction Newt usually comes from, “I’m always available.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’ve got enough trouble handling me already. I don’t think you could take it.”

Minho grins. “Oh, I definitely could.”

Before you can fire back, familiar footsteps approach from behind him. Minho’s jaw tightens almost imperceptible before he glances back, roling his eyes as Newt steps up beside him. “Right on cue,’ Minho mutters under his breath, standing and dusting off his pants.

He looks back at you one last time, smirk lingering. “Well, good luck, princess.” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something else there too. 

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

“So?” you hum to Newt as your attention shifts to him. “What’s it gonna be this time, Newt? You gonna let me out, feed me, or just stare at me all night?”

He hesitates. His fingers twitch at his sides, his lips pressing together as if he’s at war with himself. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but firm. “I didn’t think I cacould let you out.”

You blink. “Because of Gally?”

Newt shakes his head. “No. Because I’m afraid of what it’ll cost. Not because you don’t follow the rules… I mean because I don’t want to lose you… to the Maze.”

The weight of his words sinks in.

Your voice softens. “Newt…”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re capable, I know that. But if something happened to you, I-” He stops himself. Shakes his head. “Minho and I talked before.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? What did he say?”

Newt doesn’t answer. Instead, he undoes the wooden bar lock and pushes the door open. Your breath catches.

He looks at you, his expression softer now. “Looking after you doesn’t mean keeping you locked away. It means letting you make your own choices and dealing with the consequences on your own.”

You step out slowly, the tension between you shifting into something else- something unspoken but undeniable. You hesitate only a moment before wrapping your arms around him in a grateful hug. “Thank you.”

Newt lingers for a second before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Promise me you won’t do anything too stupid,” he murmurs. “I can’t go out into the Maze with you.”

You nod, holding his gaze. “I promise.”

For a moment, he looks like he might kiss you. The air crackles with something hot.

You start to apologize, taking a step back, but his hands find your waist, stopping you in place. His voice is quiet when he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You freeze, heart hammering, before nodding. “Yeah. Of course.”

And then he does. It’s careful at first, but the second his lips touch yours, your whole body gets chills.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he murmurs, “If you get killed in the Maze, I’ll kill you.”

You laugh, breathless. “Guess I’ll just have to follow Minho’s shitty orders then.”

Newt smirks. “Glad to see you’ve come around.”

You roll your eyes, kissing him once more before stepping back. “Come on, I’m starving. You didn’t bring me any food and I’m not getting caught by Frypan alone.”

He chuckles, lacing his fingers with yours as you both slip into the shadows of Frypan’s domain.

masterlist

[mybworlds]

Under the Sea

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: use of you, you’re a mermaid, I won't give any details except for nice long legs and very long hair, nudity, violence (a little?), use of both pov. Things are and will be different from the movie. If I missed smt please let me know.

Summary: Marcus Acacius is celebrated in Rome and meets after a long time his bride-to-be, while you ask for help to your aunt Mira to be part of his world as soon as possible.

Masterlist

A/N Thank you so much for your support, it means a lot. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Taglist @harriedandharassed; @orcasoul; @blazeflays; @ijustlovemensm; @duck-duck-goose2

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

As you absently comb your hair you think back to the face of that soldier, his face was perhaps hardened by the many battles and events of his life. You’d so much like to be able to caress his face and ease his suffering.

You returned home, but a part of you and your heart remained there on the coast of Lazio.

You wonder if he has returned home and if he’s happy, if he’s well, if by chance he has not already left for some other distant land. You even wonder if he thinks about you every now and then or if he has already forgotten you.

Down there, under the sea, you almost force yourself not to come back up to the surface and go back there. According to your sisters, you're in love.

Of course you didn't tell them that you came up to the surface, they think that maybe you fell in love with some newt. You don't dare imagine what your father might say or do, he would lock you up saying that you don't understand the grave dangers you could run into and he would prevent you from going back up and seeing him again.

The only one you can confide this secret to is your aunt Mira. One evening you take advantage of your father's absence and join her.

The place where she is is very dark and much deeper than where you, your father and your beloved sisters live. She once told you that in a fit of rage, she had created a monster with the features of a crocodile and the head of a dragon that attacks anyone who tries to approach her lair. Luckily she also told you how to avoid it, which is by going through a cave where the temperature is freezing, but at least it prevents the monster from noticing your presence and killing you. Even the ice water is her invention, oh how gifted your aunt is!

You swim for several kilometers, then under the sea you finally see the entrance to your aunt's cave. The hole is dark and deep, with dozens of bubbles coming out of it as if someone was breathing right there. You, with a little initial resistance, manage to enter and pass that black corridor from which sharp points like knives appear.

The air becomes less and less breathable down there, but you don't give up. You want to talk to her and she's the only one you know for sure will never judge you.

Once past the cave, you reach a long, semi-dark room. “Auntie?” you call, looking around, but you get no response. Instead, something hits you in the side, throwing you against the opposite wall and making you groan in pain. When you look up, you barely have time to move because a very long tentacle of what looks like a gigantic octopus would have struck you with great fury and who knows, maybe it would have killed you!

Along with that tentacle, others appear that seem to want to do everything they can to grab you and strangle you in its grip. You move furiously around the room that seems to have no way out, when your strength is about to abandon you, you notice another tunnel from which you can hear soft music and other bubbles help you understand that you are going in the right direction.

When you leave that cave and enter the corridor you understand that you have arrived in your aunt Mira's lair. Instead of sand, there is a mother-of-pearl colored surface, from above there are dozens of colorful algae hanging down. Further on, your aunt collects all sorts of strange or curious objects that come her way, corals from the smallest to the largest and then in a small cupboard stand out ampoules of every size and colour containing liquid of dubious nature.

“Oh, but that’s my darling little niece!” your aunt’s deep, soothing voice echoes in the hiding place. You turn in the direction the voice is coming from and see two green eyes glowing in the darkness staring at you, then your aunt appears revealing her cold regality. Her long dark hair falls softly over her shoulders, swaying with her as she approaches, her body moves sinuously revealing — when she completely exits the cone of shadow — her iridescent fish tail.

“What a lovely surprise!” she exclaims, smiling, but that smile doesn’t reach her round, upward-facing eyes. You swallow, slowly approaching her. “You did it!” She adds. “Your other sisters never came to visit their poor old aunt!” She continues, clasping her hands together and raising her eyes upwards with a tragic air.

“Yes, indeed.” you simply say.

“Why that scared look?” she asks, reaching you and caressing the contour of your face. “You're the only one who's never been afraid of me.” she smiles at you. “You don't want to start today, do you?” she asks, smiling at you.

“No,” you answer her shaking your head “I didn’t remember there were all these traps to reach you.” You tell her, blinking to try to hide the fear that all these dangers have caused you.

She smirks, lifting one corner of her mouth, “I didn’t want any nosy people to get to me,” she replies, shrugging.

You're about to ask if by nosy people she means your father, but she intervenes again, "So, how's it going with your General?"

You look surprised for a moment, but then you remember her extraordinary powers, “There’s not much to say. I saved him and I hope with all my heart that he’s okay and happy.”

“But you want to be with him, don't you?” she asks, giving you a knowing look. “Well, he's a really handsome man, I can't blame you!” she adds, winking at you.

You look down, feeling embarrassed by her statement. You’ve never spoken out loud to anyone about feelings or anything like that. Your father, even though you know he loves you, has never said things like I love you. You never spoke about love neither with your sisters, they always skirted around the topic. You once heard them talking about newts, but when you approached them, your sisters looked at each other and burst out laughing. You felt so embarrassed.

“My dear sweet little niece, don’t be shy! There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, you know?” her smile widens “What would you be willing to do to be with your brave General?”

You look up, “Anything.”

One corner of his mouth turns up in a small smirk, “Well, I have just the solution for you.”

“Really?” you ask, tilting your head to the side looking at her curiously “What is it about?”

“I’ve a potion for you.” she says, moving away from you and heading towards the pantry from which she takes a vial with some reddish liquid. “This potion will transform you into a human creature.”

You blink, “But can’t we already do that when we get out of the water?” you ask her, puzzled.

She looks at the potion, “True, but by drinking this your human form will last.”

“Oh.”

Being human for more than a few hours? You could walk beside him, hold his hand, caress his face again, see him smile, console him, talk to him and understand him.

Oh, yes.

You move closer, she gives it to you carefully. You turn it over in your hands, “Can I take it now?” you ask, looking at her face.

“Oh, don’t be so reckless, my dear,” she says, snatching the vial from your hands and swimming away a few feet, “I can’t just give you this one-of-a-kind potion like that.”

“But you...” you don't know what to say, why did she tell you about it if she can't give it to you?

“Don’t get me wrong.” she quickly adds, “I won’t ask for anything in return, you’re my niece after all!” she tells you, “But magic always comes with a price.” you watch her carefully not to miss a single word “With this potion, you can walk on the earth, dance, run, do whatever you want, but you must always drink a few drops every night.” she explains. “If you don’t, you will return to being a mermaid, and it’s not certain that your beloved General will understand your nature, he or anyone around him.” you look down “Remember this, to humans, we are just monsters to be caught and killed or sometimes used for their entertainment.” she clasps her hands and sighs “I still remember my friend Zephyr, oh what a horrible end! Used in the gladiator games.” you swallow scared “But that won’t happen as long as you always keep this with you and every full moon you will have to come back here so that I can give you a new potion.” you nod silently and she looks carefully at your face. “Are you afraid? Do you want to give it up?”

You want to be with him, no matter what. Even if it means danger, you want to know the world of humans and Marcus.

“You're really in love!” She exclaims. “Nothing could make you change your mind.” She continues with a smile. “Well, in that case, then I have nothing else to tell you.” She adds, coming closer and handing you the vial. “You must be on the coast at dawn for this potion to take effect. You must have the first rays of the sun hit you and that will make the potion truly effective.”

You nod, about to grab it, when your aunt takes the bottle out of your reach and you look up at her, “Remember, no one, not even your man, should ever know that you are a mermaid. For no reason in the world.”

“Why? Maybe he will understand.”

She shakes her head, “He's a human. Even though he's seen a lot, I'm not sure he'll really understand.”

You frown, “But those are my father's words! I thought you and him had a fight over your different views on things.”

She shakes her head, “No. Not just at least. Oh, I almost forgot! A drop of your blood must also be added to the potion, otherwise the whole thing will be useless.”

You nod, “I will.”

“One last thing, if you stop taking this potion and stay on earth, you’ll die.” You hold your breath looking into her eyes.

Your aunt hands you the vial, you swallow, close your eyes for a moment. You don't know where he lives, whether his house overlooks the sea or is inland, you don't know if he will understand who you really are, you only know that for him you are willing to take risks at any cost. You open your eyes again and grab it.

“What’s the word? Good luck, then.” Myra says smiling at you and giving you the vial. "Now go." You nod and then swim away.

Rome welcomes him with unimaginable pomp and luxury, the streets are decorated for the occasion with red rose petals scattered along the sides of the roads to allow the chariots to pass. The crowd is kept at the sides of the streets by Roman soldiers who enthusiastically cheer his name.

Marcus greets them with composed enthusiasm and thinks about how uncomfortable all this makes him feel, as if he were playing a part that no longer suits him.

“Acacius! Acacius!” the crowd roars as he passes towards the Imperial Palace. His chariot stops in front of the marble steps and he steps down. He looks up and sees the two emperor brothers Caracalla and Geta there at the top of the stairs waiting for him.

Acacius knows well that with them words must always be measured and precise, never ambiguous or you risk becoming their enemy. The two brothers stand tall in their splendid royal robes, looking at the General with a pleased expression.

“General,” says Emperor Geta extending his hand towards the man who promptly grabs it and kisses the back of the man's hand. Then, Acacius repeats the same gesture with the emperor Caracalla.

“My emperors,” he says with a small nod and a serious, concentrated expression on his face “I’m happy to be in your presence,” adds the man.

“Oh, I’m sure you are! It’s an honor to find you in our presence!” exclaims Caracalla.

“I hope you’ve recovered from the terrible shipwreck,” Geta continues, as his brother pours wine into golden goblets.

“Yes, your highness. I’ve regained the strength needed to return to the battlefield,” Marcus says.

“Oh, our General is always ready to run from one battlefield to another, right little brother?” Geta says again, turning to his brother, “How long does it take to pour the wine?!” he turns impatiently to Caracalla.

“Don't rush me!” squeaks Caracalla, spilling a few drops of wine on the marble table where the glasses are.

“We need you here. The population needs someone to quell the too many internal revolts. You and your men serve here.” Geta states in a serious tone and scrutinizing the face of their trusted General.

Marcus looks down for a moment, “I understand. I was just hoping to leave Rome sooner rather than later.”

“I see,” Geta hums while Caracalla finally offers a cup to his brother and another to the General, Geta sips his wine, staring into the man's face. “No,” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “We need you here.” Acacius swallows, lowering his gaze again with a serious expression. “And then I think it's the best opportunity to get to know your future bride better before the wedding.” he adds exchanging an amused glance with his brother who smirks amused at seeing the brave soldier in difficulty.

Marcus has no intention of appearing impatient or embarrassed in front of the emperors, so he simply nods briefly, “I understand.” Then he raises his glass, “Well, then... To your health, my emperors, and always at your command.” Geta loses his smile, while Marcus smiles faintly before also sipping his wine.

Marcus can never be free, at least not in this life. Sometimes, especially when he’s alone in his rooms of his domus in the evening, he happens to think of the girl from Sicily, that same girl who for some mysterious reason was on the beach next to him, she saved him.

Ever since he came to and found that strange iridescent shell on him, he has been carrying it around with him almost as a reminder of her, of what he experienced and of how she saved him.

No one knows the truth. He saw her disappear into the sea, but he didn't tell anyone. No one would ever believe him. Even he sometimes has trouble believing what he himself saw. He simply said that he had mysteriously and fortunately survived, he thanked the gods and asked his men to make a sacrifice to the god Neptune to thank him for having spared his life. He wanted to thank her, the beautiful and mysterious woman who saved him from that stormy sea, but what did it matter now, he would never be able to see her again!

As much as he tries to think about his future bride, the thought of being forced into marriage just because of the whims of two mad emperors drives him mad.

Lucilla, this is the name of his wife, is the daughter of the late Marcus Aurelius and Acacius well understands the reason why the two emperors hope for and encourage this union: Marcus Aurelius had a dream and Acacius knows that his daughter share in secret the same ideas as her father, what better way to keep her and any potential supporters at bay than by marrying Lucilla to the man who is the empire's right-hand man?

Acacius knows well that he’s only a tool in the hands of a power stronger than him and not being able to have control over his life and his decisions makes him feel caged. Although paradoxical, he feels free only on a battlefield, but only because he’s far from Rome and its rotten power, he takes no pleasure in killing or mutilating people, whether they are allies or enemies.

That evening there is a warm wind blowing from the sea and Acacius will meet Lucilla for the first time in months. She’s a beautiful, cultured, graceful woman. He knows well that he should consider himself lucky, beyond the constraint, to marry her.

In the peristylium several lotus flowers have been placed in the small fountains that enrich the place and the place has been specially decorated for the woman. Marcus knows they are her favorite flowers and, despite his reticence, he doesn't want to make her feel out of place or unwanted. The triclinium has been set up with good food and wine at will. Everything is ready.

He watches the ripples of the waves crashing along the rock face. He thinks back to when he chose this villa, he wanted to live far from Rome, despite his role, he was and is a soldier, he’s not a politician nor a man who aspires to power. He's just a man who longs for freedom and since he saw that beautiful girl he wants it even more.

“General, Augusta Lucilla has arrived,” announces a middle-aged servant.

He nods and then walks away from the small stone terrace, waits solemnly for the woman in the peristylium, then Lucilla makes her entrance followed by two elderly women.

Lucilla is just as Acacius remembered her: beautiful, composed, regal. Age has not affected or changed who she is.

“Augusta Lucilla,” says the General in a solemn tone and then gently takes her hand and kisses it.

“General Acacius,” the woman returns the greeting with a calm expression and a sweet smile on her lips “It’s a relief for me to know that you are back here safe and sound.” she adds composedly. “I’ve been told that you were the victim of a terrible shipwreck. We thank the gods that you’re here to tell the tale.”

He nods, meeting her eyes, “Thank you for your kind words. I was lucky, yes.”

The two remain in awkward silence for a moment, then Marcus regains control of the situation by inviting her to go to the triclinium through the peristylium. The man points out the presence of the lotus flowers, making the woman smile and thank the soldier for his attention to this detail that almost everyone overlooks.

The dinner passes peacefully, the two guests converse about many things, everything except politics. Marcus doesn’t know whether to say that the two emperors know her political orientation and on the other hand, Lucilla believes that conversing with a man about politics could make her appear silly or ridiculous.

Marcus occasionally squeezes that shell in his hand as if it had become a talisman that gives him the strength to endure all this.

“Does that amulet have any meaning for you?” asks the woman, noticing the gesture that happened several times during the evening.

“Oh, um... A person dear to me gave it to me as a gift. I received it on my way back from Sicily, if I remember correctly,” says Acacius although he’s not sure of its origin, he only knows that when he fully recovered from the terrible experience he had it on him.

“I thought you had lost everything in the shipwreck,” notes Lucilla, sipping her wine.

“Yes, indeed,” the man confirms, gently running his thumb over the shell. “I don’t know how this one survived.”

“Can I see it?” asks the woman holding out the open palm of the hand. Marcus nods and hands it over, “Oh, um I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. It’s a very rare stone for sure,” he adds as he hands the item back to the General.

The sea provides the background music to the dinner, the man relaxes from time to time forgetting the obligation that grips him deeply and putting aside for a few hours the thought of the sea girl and his secret intention to find her again.

It's still night when you reach the coast of Lazio, you're tired and sore, but satisfied. You come out of the water just enough to begin to feel your fish tail transform into human legs. Even though this has happened several times, you still feel pain and some discomfort.

You place the vial on the sand in a safe place so that the waves cannot carry it away. Then, you dig your hands into the wet sand and wait for that feeling to pass, when you feel better, you look around and what you see is a domus on top of a cliff.

This is where you will wait for dawn so that the potion can work its magic. The only thing you really regret is not having been able to say goodbye to your father or sisters, but you already know that they would never give you permission or help you so you had to do it all by yourself. You feel proud of your decision, but at the same time you are also a little scared, you don't know what you are going to face and if you will ever really see him again.

What will you tell him if you meet him? You can't tell him you're a mermaid. He wouldn't understand. Not even him. You see, you know he's different, but how much? You have seen the crimes he has committed, but you’ve also seen the bitterness and pain in his eyes and felt the anguish in his heart. You know, he’s a good human being made perhaps evil only by events.

You look around, you are wrapped in darkness, you are cold. You shrug your shoulders placing your hands on your forearms, you observe yourself, you are back in your human form. You are naked. You have nothing to cover yourself with except your hair long enough to cover your breasts and your sex.

You hear voices, noises of what seem to be plates, then you hear with great incredible clarity his voice, you are just in the right place. You don't know if it was luck or if your aunt's potion had something to do with it, but the fact is that you found him and now you'll do anything to be part of his world.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

Could you please write a Grindelwald one-shot, where he comforts the reader (one of his followers), after her best friend, Newt, died? How would he react, not knowing beforehand how important he was to her?

Grindelwald X Reader: A port in the storm

Warnings: grief, manipulation (tiny bit), death, no use of y/n

Word count: 1,1 K

You had never been good at hiding your emotions, not even when the world around you seemed to demand it. Today, the weight in your chest felt unbearable, the hollow space inside you growing larger with each passing moment. Newt Scamander was gone. You hadn’t expected it — none of you had. But somehow, you had hoped that he would always be there, the eccentric, gentle soul who had been your closest friend for years. Now, there was only the silence of his absence, a silence that echoed too loudly in your heart.

You stood in the darkened corner of the room, still in shock, barely aware of the others moving around you. They were all preoccupied with their own tasks, their own goals, and none of them would understand what Newt had meant to you. But one person did.

Gellert Grindelwald.

You hadn’t noticed him approaching, but the soft click of his boots against the stone floor broke you from your reverie. He was standing beside you now, close enough that you could feel the subtle warmth of his presence, but not close enough to intrude.

"You're grieving." 

His voice was low, but with an edge that you couldn’t quite place.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes. They were intense, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper — something far more complex than you could even begin to understand. You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. The world had been a much brighter place when Newt was in it, and now it felt unbearably dark.

"I never thought it would happen." 

Your eyes glaze over as the image of Newt's body flashes into your mind. 

"He was always so... alive. So full of life. He shouldn’t have died. Not like this."

Grindelwald’s gaze softened, though his expression remained neutral. He studied you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line.

 "Grief is a cruel thing, isn’t it? The way it catches you off guard. The way it changes everything. The world continues spinning, and yet you feel as though it’s stopped completely."

You swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat. He had a way of speaking, of phrasing things, that made it almost impossible to remain unaffected. He didn’t offer hollow words of comfort. He didn’t claim to understand the depth of your pain. But there was something in his presence, something that calmed the storm inside you, even as it tore through your heart. You were silent for a long moment before you spoke again, your voice barely more than a whisper. 

"He was my best friend. He... he saved me more times than I can count. And now he's gone." 

Your eyes burned with the threat of more tears, but you fought them back, clenching your fists at your sides. Beneath the sadness there was also a sort of rage bubbling in your throat. 

"I didn’t know. I didn’t realize the extent of your bond with him. If I had, perhaps I would have..." 

He trailed off, though the words were unnecessary. You knew what he meant — that he would have protected Newt more fiercely, or perhaps even kept him farther away from the dangers he had been entangled in. But there was no turning back now.

"You didn’t know. No one knew. Not even him. I never told him how much he meant to me. How much his friendship meant. I just assumed... I just assumed he’d always be here."

Grindelwald was silent for a long time, his piercing gaze never leaving your face. Finally, he spoke again, this time with a quiet conviction. 

"You’ll carry the memory of him with you. The good parts. The moments of light. The kindness."

His words were simple, yet there was a quiet strength behind them. It was almost as if he was telling them to himself as well as to you. You nodded slowly, feeling the tears you had been holding back finally begin to fall. They slipped down your cheeks in silent streams, a flood you couldn’t stop. But Grindelwald didn’t flinch or turn away. Instead, he stood beside you, his presence grounding you in a way you didn’t quite understand.

Without a word, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small, silver vial — a potion, you assumed. He held it out to you, his eyes meeting yours with that same intensity. 

"This will ease the pain. It will dull the sharpness of your grief for a time, at least."

You looked at the vial in his hand, then back to his face. For a moment, you considered the offer. But then you shook your head. 

"I don’t want to forget him. Not like that."

Grindelwald’s lips twitched at the corners, as if he had expected your refusal. 

"No, you shouldn’t forget him. Not completely. But sometimes, the burden of grief is too much to bear on your own. You don’t have to carry it in its entirety just yet."

You hesitated, but after a moment, you took the vial from his hand. The gesture was more than the potion itself. It was a sign that, in this moment, you weren’t alone — that, even in your most broken state, Grindelwald was offering you something more.

"Thank you," you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

Grindelwald’s gaze softened, just slightly.

 "You are loyal," 

He said it as though it were an observation more than a compliment. 

"You loved him deeply. And that is rare. But do not let his death consume you. He would not have wanted that."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle into your heart. It didn’t make the pain go away, not completely. But it did make it feel a little less unbearable. A little less suffocating.

For the first time since Newt’s death, you found a small measure of peace.

Grindelwald stood there with you, silent and still, like the steady flame in the darkness. He may not have known how much Newt had meant to you, but in this moment, he understood more than anyone else ever could. He understood loss. He understood grief. He had experienced both and knew the toll they could take.  And perhaps, for all the darkness that he embraced, it was in these quiet moments — moments of shared, unspoken understanding — that you began to see the flicker of something more in him, something more human.

"You will be alright." 

He murmured the words, his tone a soft reassurance that you weren’t sure you completely believed — but for the first time in days, you felt as though you might just be able to, eventually. And maybe, in time, the weight of Newt’s absence wouldn’t feel so unbearable. Not with Grindelwald by your side, a steady presence in the storm.

[tinygardenhideout]

Studying is hard

Sebastian Sallow x Male!Reader

So this is my first fanfic I'm posting on Tumblr. I would really appreciate any constructive criticism.

Hope you enjoy!

"So..remind me, how do you brew Felix Felicis again?" Sebastian held his breath and spoke through gritted teeth, braceing himself for either a calm explanation or a torrent of insults and expletives.

Sebastian and Y/N had been studying for what felt like years at this point. There Potions N.E.W.T was coming up in two days, and it was all hands on deck in the Undercroft. A plush carpet had been laid on the wooden floor and cool lights hung from the ceiling, creating a light atmosphere in contrast to the usual dingyness of the space.

"Sebastian Sallow," Y/N took a deep breath and bit his tongue, not wanting to say something he would later regret, "let this be the last time I tell you or I swear on Godrics Heart, studying for your NEWTS will be the least of your worries."

Sebastian nodded, "Yep, understood." After two years of knowing each other and 10 months of dating, Sebastian knew when to pick his fights with Y/N.

"Good. Right then, for the fifth time, add Ashwinder eggs to a cauldron..."

In one ear, and very quickly out the other. Y/N's instructions became background noise as Sebastian stared into Y/N's jade eyes, it felt like ages since they last got intimate with each other. Of course, they had been spending time with each other, but Sebastian wanted more then just a butter beer after a long day and cuddles in the Undercroft, no, he wanted to be really intimate with Y/N, he wanted to kiss him until they were both gasping for air, he wanted to feel Y/Ns skin against his, he wanted to make him cry out with pleasure.

"...then stir slowly and- are you even listening to me?" Y/N said sharply

"Yeah, yeah, crush occamy egg shell and add to the mixture."

"Good, seems your finally getting the hang of it, then add a sprinkle..."

The urge to do something was bubbling up inside Sebastian like one of Garreths failed potions, the urge to push Y/N to the ground and kiss him was almost animalistic. But, as Y/N went on explaining the potion recipe (most of which Sebastian has already forgotten, again) he realised that now maybe wasn't the best time; the look of concentration on Y/N's face very clearly conveyed the fact he probably did not want to spend the next hour snogging Sebastian.

However, there was something Sebastian could do.

"...finally, say the incantation 'Felixsempra' over the cauldron in a clear voice. Got it this time?" Y/N tilted his head slightly as he looked at Sebastian, expecting an answer.

"Yes, I've got it, thanks." Replied Sebastian, dismissively.

"Say it back-"

"Y/N, listen.." Sebastian cut Y/N off mid sentence, the metaphorical cauldron had finally bubbled over and the boy could no longer contain himself, he needed Y/N to hear his words.

"You've bloody forgot it again, haven't you? I swear to-"

"I love you, Y/N. I really, really bloody love you." There. There it was.

Y/N lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head in confusion, "I.. should hope so, all things considered."

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. "No, no, not like that.. not like when we say it at night or when we're leaving each other. I really mean it, I love you."

Much to Sebastians chagrin, Y/N was still not following.

Sebastian crawled over to Y/N and took his hand, "After all you've seen me do, despite how stubborn and headstrong I can be, you've stuck with me. Even when Ominis, even when Anne had enough, you stayed with me, and loved me. So... I just wanted to tell you, that I love you."

Y/N's face softend at Sebastians surprise confession. Y/N knew better then anyone that Sebastian struggled showing affection, so to hear those words was... the feeling was indescribable.

"Seb, I..."

"I love you too."

[summer-falls]

Real Favorite.

More Balor x OC under the cut.

“Farmer! How is my favorite customer today?” Balor calls out with a wave, a sly grin pulling on his lips. He is leaned casually back on his merchant cart and it seems June has actually caught him within his few hours of personally attending the thing.

June puffs out a laugh, crossing her arms stubbornly as she nears the merchants cart. “You say that to all your customers.” A smirk pulls to her lips.

“Yeah, true.” Balor tips his head to the side as if in thought, before leaning close to June. Perhaps too close for such a casual conversation. “But you’re my real favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

June smiles at him for a brief moment. However, something inside of her cannot allow such a sentimental statement to linger. “What is it you want then, merchant?” She challenges.

She receives a dramatic eye roll at this. “Why do you always assume I want something, farmer. Maybe I just wanted to see that charming smile of yours? Maybe I wanted to see if you were in need of anything?” Balor pauses for a moment as she stares him down. “Maybe I wanted to see if you had any precious gems, because I do have a buyer and you know i’m good for an even split of the profits.”

June scoffs, “Charming smile, was it?”

“Hey, I really did want to see you.” Balor pouts.

The two continue their bickering, and yet, not in a single moment of their interaction did either party consider taking a step away from each other. Balor still looms over her while June glares up at him with a look that lacks any real malice.

“Ohohoh! What do we have here!” A clipped voice pulls them from their own little bubble. Juniper stands to their side with her hands on her hips, her bright grin showing off her glee of finding them like that. Mistria was a small town after all. Their close, half-hearted bickering was almost in line with a marriage proposal, at least gossip-wise. “Should I come back another time, Balor?”

“No.” Balors posture prickles. “We were just,” He trails off, eyes flickering down and only seeming to notice how close he was to the farmer now. The two instantly step away. “Discussing business.”

Juniper narrows her eyes at this.

“Yup, and by the way, I’ll have those gems to you later, Balor. Things to do and people to see right now, you know.” June flashes him a bright smile, which Balor is quick to return, before she is off to town.

Balor and Juniper watch her go in a moment of silence. Balor’s eyes trail after until she fades into the distance, and only then does he realize that Juniper stopped watching June in order to watch him watch June.

He quickly clears his throat as he turns to his wagon. “So what odd things are you in need of today? Eye of newt, wart of frog, or maybe-“

“That depends. Would you be interested in a potion yourself?” Juniper prompts with a teasing smirk on her face. “Love potions are fairly simple, but it may just raise our Juney’s interest in you.” Balor sputters in surprise as the woman continues on. “Though, it may turn her into a frog the first try. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“What makes you-“ His attempt to snap at her quickly dies on his tongue as she gives him the all knowing smirk that she tends to carry. Balor feels a heat filling his cheeks. It was the same kind that he believed to have left back in his youth, the embarrassment of a crush. “What do you need today, Juniper.” He finally gets out, arms crossing his chest defensively.

Juniper’s signature laugh rings through the air. For just a moment, she would allow him the mercy of moving on with her order. However, this would be revisited without a doubt.

[thewolffairytaler]

The little sheep and the bear cub - part 11 | Thomas Hewitt x female reader

_____________________________

Summary: Four years has passed since the little sheep had decided to flee from Newt in Travis County. With her extremely limited driving skills, she managed to settle down in Louisiana. It was tough at first, but she managed to get herself a new job at a corporate company and a small but comfortable apartment. Yet even after all these years, she can't help but still feel depressed over her life.

Warning: Suggestions over deep thinking about suicide.

A vibrant group of boys gathered around a makeshift circle created in the sand at the kindergarten playground, their laughing resonating like music as the sun shone through the trees. As they alternated aiming for the valuable marbles spread out in front of them, their hands clutched colourful marbles, their eyes glimmering with joy and a hint of wickedness. A plethora of jokes and light-hearted conversation interrupted each tug at the string of competition, creating an electrifying environment. Today, instead of using their pocket money to buy loose sweets, they were playing for something special: a jar full of luminous marbles that they had all pooled together. The temptation of ownership and a mystical light in the dark were promised by the marbles.

In order to maintain equality among the group, they came to a sweet agreement: the winner would always use the prized marbles in their circle, sharing the happiness they brought instead of keeping them for himself. Their sense of mutual respect were emphasised by the excellent compromise. After looking down too much to see how one of the lads was attempting to smash several marbles at once from various angles, the boy holding the jar was pushing up his glasses as they gathered.

A ginger boy stood in the middle of this enthusiasm bubble, his brown eyes glimmering with resolve as he readied himself to fire his shot. Hugo, his devoted buddy, drew close to him, his face solemn. "Wait up," he commanded. "Isaiah wins if you miss." A boy with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief, Isaiah towered above the others. He was well-known for being an expert at marbles and frequently cleaned up the games, letting everyone know that if he got more than four marbles, the day was his. The tension in the room increased as Hugo watched the ginger boy's fingers hover over the stone; the excitement of the game was evident. Knowing that this one toss would determine the fate of the marbles and their pride, the other guys held their breath, engrossed in the moment.

As the ginger boy in the middle of the activity was clearly nervous as he got ready for his turn. He concentrated hard on the marbles in front of him, but when he eventually flicked his finger, just one of them pushed out of the circle, which was a long cry from the performance he had in mind. As he stood on the sidelines, Isaiah couldn't contain his relief, which was a mixture of real laughing and sympathy for his friend's plight. The other boys' reactions to the situation varied. Some people's faces softened as they acknowledged the worry that had probably affected the blond boy's flow, and they felt a tinge of sympathy for him. Others, however, compared the ginger boy's turn to their own experiences and exchanged knowing looks and silent assessments.

Tanner said, laughing, "Well, at least you didn't miss!" Which caused some people to laugh. His tone, however, was tinged with that equivocal blend of encouragement and light-hearted taunting, recognising the ginger boy's attempt while also emphasising the failure. The ginger sighed, a hint of frustration crossing his face as he responded, “I was too nervous! It totally messed up my flick.” The nervousness of trying to impress his friends had taken its toll, and the playground turned into a mix of encouragement and light-hearted jabs. His honesty softened the mockery, reminding the group that the spirit of the game was not solely about winning but also about having fun. Even though the rules state that once you kick out a marble, it is yours. The boys dosen’t take those marbles for themselves, mainly because they don't want to explain to their parents that they lost all of their marbles to their friends, but also because the idea that the kindergarden as well as the parents would ban them for ever playing it again.

A Hispanic boy with an enthusiastic smile, passionately reminding Isaiah, “It’s your turn now!” The curly-haired boy nodded, his playful demeanour shifting to intense concentration as he crouched down in the sandbox. Focusing intently on the arrangement of the marbles, he meticulously steadied his shooter, analysing the angles with a calculated gaze. He flicked his wrist to move the marbles over the sand, causing them to collide and spin in a rainbow of hues. The lads looked in wonder as he let go of his shot, sending a rush through the air. Seven marbles fell out to their joy, the gratifying clinks sounding like triumphal bells. When Isaiah realised he had won the game, the circle erupted in applause and gasps of surprise. His glasses-wearing companion complimented him on his abilities and triumph as he reached out to hand him the jar of glow-in-the-dark marbles with delight.

They were poised to embark on another round of marbles. With wide grins plastered on their faces, they beckoned Isaiah closer, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You can use the glowing ones this time!” they urged their voices a chorus of enthusiasm as they imagined the mesmerising spectacle of the marbles dancing in the twilight. Just as Isaiah reached for the jar, eager fingers inches away from gripping the treasure within, their plans were abruptly halted. A kind and patient kindergarten teacher approached, her smile slightly tinged with urgency. “Isaiah, your mother is here to pick you up,” she announced, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. The jovial atmosphere shifted, heavy disappointment hovering in the air as the boys exchanged glances that mingled frustration with understanding. They couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of losing another chance to enjoy their luminous game, but in true camaraderie, they quickly rallied. “We can play with those marbles again tomorrow!” one boy exclaimed, and the group nodded in unison, bonding over the promise of another game.

As the kindergarten teacher gently guided Isaiah back toward the school building, he felt a bittersweet twist in his stomach. Behind them, the laughter of his friends echoed dimly, their hopeful plans blending into the fading light. Returning to the hallway, anticipation turned into warmth as he noticed his mother patiently waiting, with Isaiah’s school supplies neatly packed in his bag. The three-year-old boy with his little legs sprung into action, carrying him joyfully in her direction. As he put his tiny arms around her waist and experienced the love and security that only a mother could offer, his heart raced with anticipation. He held the jar of colourful marbles in his other hand, their smooth surfaces gleaming in the sunlight.

As she knelt down to meet her son’s eager gaze, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the jar. Curiosity filled her eyes as she asked where he had gotten the marbles. Isaiah, with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, signed to her that he had won them. This proclamation left his teacher standing nearby in a state of confusion, her brow furrowing as she tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. But Isaiah, with the innocence that only a child possesses, expertly sidestepped the teacher's inquiry, his attention already shifting to the next adventure. He tugged at his mother’s hand, urging her to leave. His mother said goodbye to the teacher with a smile and a comforting voice, but Isaiah didn't have time to linger. In a small gesture full of youthful enthusiasm, he waved heartily at the woman. For him, the simple pleasure of being with his mother was more important than the queries of marbles or his teacher's inquisitive stare. Isaiah believed that the only thing that really mattered was to be with the ones he loved.

A little wind rustled the leaves above them as they walked the meandering road, providing a calm setting for their return trip. The vivid greens of the surrounding forests were illuminated by the golden glow of the warm Louisiana sun. But even in this beautiful environment, the tiny child couldn't help but notice the strange quiet that pervaded their stroll. Normally lively and talkative, his mother was silent, her mind obviously lost in some far-off concern. He had come to identify these times; she referred to them as her "bad days," but he was never quite sure why they happened.

The youngster snuck looks at his mother with every step, examining her furrowed brows and the way her eyes seem to be focused on something far away, as though she was looking for answers in the distance. Since they were in their own little universe, surrounded by the scent of blossoming jasmine and the sound of cicadas lulling the day, he wished he could reach out and draw her back into the warmth of their shared moment. His voice was quiet, yet there were many unanswered questions in his heart. Could he make her laugh or bring her back to a discussion about his favourite things, such as the funny antics of the school pets or the odd forms of the clouds above? When they arrived back in their hometown, his mother told him that they needed to go and buy some groceries first. Reminding him that they didn't have much food in the fridge at the moment.

As (Y/n) walked through the familiar aisles of the local grocery store, a sense of nostalgia washed over her. The brightly colored boxes and bustling atmosphere reminded her of simpler times, but there was a solemn undertone that tugged at her heart. With Isaiah by her side, she grabbed items from the shelves, her mind racing through the list of essentials. She felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her, especially knowing that the pantry was nearly bare. Yet, amidst the hum of conversation and the beeping of registers, a gentle warmth emerged from her son’s presence.

Isaiah watched her intently as they moved from aisle to aisle. Suddenly, his small hand tugged at her sleeve, and he turned to face her, a hopeful expression blossoming on his face. In a world where words often failed him, he made a simple gesture, mimicking the act of stirring a bowl—a sign that lit a spark of joy in (Y/n)'s heart. He wanted to bake cookies together, a cherished tradition that often transformed their home into a haven of warmth and sweetness. It was his way of reaching out, hoping to lift her spirits, knowing full well the shadows that had been creeping into their lives.

(Y/n) smiled at Isaiah, feeling the heaviness in her chest begin to lift at his request. Baking cookies would not only bring a sense of normalcy but also create an opportunity for cherished memories and laughter to echo through their home once more. "Of course, sweetheart," she replied, her voice soft but filled with encouragement. "Let’s pick up some chocolate chips and sprinkles so we can make it special." Together, they continued their shopping, each item selected bearing the promise of a joyful evening ahead, a step towards healing, and a reminder that even in the tough days, love and connection could lead them back to brighter moments.

The crisp fall afternoon air blended with the familiar aroma of fresh produce as Y/n and Isaiah made their way back to their flat. They had a brown paper bag full of colourful fruits in one hand and two plastic bags full of vegetables hanging from the other. The warm glow of their comfortable home welcomed them back as the flat door creaked open, and they entered. Y/n smiled and said, "I'll take the carrots if you grab the apples," as they started their daily grocery-packing routine. The repetitive unpacking was oddly reassuring because it was usual.

Ripe tomatoes lined up in a bowl on the counter, crisp lettuce tucked in the vegetable drawer—everything had its proper place in the kitchen. They talked and exchanged brief anecdotes about their week despite the day's tasks. Y/n watched with satisfaction as her kid neatly stacked the Tupperware on the shelf where it belonged, holding the lid just a bit too high for his small frame. At that moment, she had a thought and turned on the television, hoping to find anything positive in the nightly news amid the regular stories of mayhem. But when the screen came to life, she stopped in the middle of her movement when she heard an unsettling announcement. She was quickly drawn in by the news anchor's urgent yet curious tone of voice. Her earlier task of putting groceries away was suddenly forgotten as Y/n's heart raced. Her mind was buzzing with questions as she watched affar from the screen. Her son, noticing that she was preoccupied, followed her gaze, his young eyes full of wonder, and they both turned to the TV to find out what had captivated their attention so thoroughly.

The news shifted to a lost footage of a crime scene, where a sheriff was exploring a house with a camera man whilst holding a mic.

"This is August 20th, 1973. The location is at the Hewitt residence. We're going to move to the actual furnace room, watch yourself, look out." The black and white footage shows how they were walking down some stairs. The bottom of the basement was flooded with water. Possibly from the rain. "Ugh... ah man, ahh. Look out, you got it? Alright, this is the actual furnace room, going into. Where they... expected to portray... got a bit of a jump there. Come on back here, follow me."

The camera zoom could be heard by a clicking noise, the sheriff continued on talking, until something made him scream in fear and try to run away. The camera couldn't catch what it was, but it did catch the sheriff's body falling to the ground, as the cameraman struggled to escape from a much more intimidating figure. It was quite difficult to tell due to the camera shaking so much, but you could see it was a man with some kind of mask on. The footage then immediately shifted to a funeral, where the news reporter narrated everything.

"The crime scene was not properly secured by Travis County police. Two investigating officers were fatally wounded that day." The footage went back to the mysterious man, except this time it was slowed down to a picture status. "This is the only known image of Thomas Hewitt, the man they call Leatherface. The case today still remains unsolved."

The room fell silent as the television flickered off, the sudden absence of noise amplifying the tension in the air. (Y/n)’s hand trembled as she placed the remote onto the coffee table, each movement deliberate yet heavy with an unspoken weight. Her face remained a canvas of stillness, a blank expression that offered no insight into the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. It was a quiet kind of devastation, as if the images and sounds that had just filled the space had been too much to bear, too vivid to process. With a deep, shuddering breath, she brought her palms to her face, a gesture that spoke volumes; it was a moment of surrender, a fragile attempt to shield herself from the world outside her apartment. Each trembling finger pressed against her skin as if to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to break free. In that stillness, there was a profound sense of loss, the kind that lingers long after the last scene fades from the screen.

Isaiah sensing the sudden chill in the atmosphere, approached with cautious curiosity. He tilted his head, his small features knitted in concern for the woman who always wrapped him in warmth and laughter. “Mama?” He mouthed, his soft voice that only could let out noises. Reached out, his tiny hand brushing against her arm, seeking a connection that had suddenly felt tenuous. In the depths of her stoicism, he could see fragments of worry, a fog that he instinctively knew was not his to bear, but it tugged at his little heart nonetheless. His innocent concern flowed from his eyes as he stood there, a beacon of love and worry, hoping to draw her back from wherever she had drifted during that silent moment.

Feeling her silent cub nearby, the woman put her hands down as her sight was staring directly into the face that might as well have belonged to the patriarch when he was younger. Her left palm went up to caress the boy's cheek after trying to find something that didn't exist with her boy, no trace of whatever worried her every single day since the day he was concieved. As she then scooped him into her arms, and made him sit on her lap as she hugged him tenderly. Having him sit there in silence for a while before she pulled away and asked Isaiah; "Do you want to do those cookies now?" Her soft questioning tone and caring tone immediately calmed his anxieties. Knowing that these times spent together were significant to them both, he nodded, a gentle smile piercing his worry.

She carefully put him down as she took hold of his little hand to guide him back to the kitchen again.

"Okay, let's go and bake then." Gathering the ingredients and beginning to mix them together. (Y/n) guided Isaiah through the process, letting him help with the smaller tasks. As the scent of cookie dough fills the house, (Y/n) and Isaiah share a smile, the tension from earlier having dissipated. Making them was a process of extreme silence unless there was a need for necessary speaking. When they were done making the cookies, (Y/n) put them in the oven and made sure to put the kitchen timer on. And to make sure that the time went by quickly for the both of them, they decided to play some uno together, a new game that came around two years ago.

When the timer eventually goes off, signalling that the cookies are done, (Y/n) removed the tray from the oven and carefully transferred the cookies onto a cooling rack. Isaiah is beaming with pride as he watches the results of the teamwork.

"Now comes the fun part," (Y/n) told him, pulling out various containers of icing and sprinkles. Isaiah eagerly picks up a small icing bag, and (Y/n) helps him fill it. "You can try spreading the icing first, junior." She encouraged him, watching as he concentrated on the task at hand. He does a decent job, and she's pleased to see his growing sense of independence. (Y/n) helped him by adding the sprinkles and decorations, creating beautiful and colourful masterpieces together.

As they both sit down to enjoy the sweets of their labour, (Y/n) takes a moment to appreciate the bonding experience they've shared. Isaiah seems to have completely forgotten her earlier sadness, and that's all that mattered to (Y/n) at that time. As she looked into his now-happy eyes, (Y/n) vows to find more ways to connect with him and create special moments that make his neediness feel less like a burden and more like the loving attachment between a mother and her son.

The rest of the day went by doing multiple things, teaching further with Isaiah’s ability to read (putting her fingers gently on his throat to see him pronounce it correctly). Making sure to do her own paperwork at the corporate company she worked for, letting Isaiah watch some cartoons and ending the day by putting Isaiah to sleep. Y/n had returned to the couch in the living room as she quietly stared off into space, not making a single sound as her mind and eyes just looked like they were missing something. As if the shooting stars in her eyes were darker than normal, as if the stars turned into black holes instead.

As she looked down to the coffee table, she noticed the leftover papers she had put down for Isaiah to draw. He had left his drawing of their apartment, and she was prominently featured in the picture. In the drawing, her arms were wide open, ready to scoop him up in a big, warm hug. It was like one of those family drawings children sometimes do. Even though his drawing was sweet, that's not the one she was focusing on at the moment. Her main priority was to write her mind down, like the way she dies with her journal. She could go and get it. It was in her room after all, but it felt right writing it on a piece of paper. She hesitated at first, not knowing how to say it in words, but eventually figured it out how she wanted it to turn out.

22nd/08/1973

Did you know, junior, that Isaiah means salvation of the lord? I named you that because I wanted God to always help you, even when I'm not here. God had never blessed me with anything, well, until I had you. I think you are my proper blessing, I did have anathor blessing before you, but it wasn't permanent. I thought it was going to be, or actually, I prayed for it to be. However, because of life's circumstances, it never did get further than me having you.

I have regretted a lot of things in life because I have done a lot of stupid things, but I've never once regretted having you. Even in the most toughest situations, I was happy to have you around. Your mama never was a social butterfly, and those I talked to were few. It's kinda sad to think about it, but that's how it has always been. Same thing about me being sad at times, I used to be sad all the time, actually. But over the years, it has gotten a bit better.

I won't lie to you, Junior, I'm tired. I've been tired for a while now, I've been thinking a lot these days and... I don't know if I can keep this up any longer. But a part of me is too afraid to suddenly stop. If I do stop, who's going to take care of you? Who's going to make sure my baby doesn't end up getting hurt? I don't trust anybody besides your godmother enough to leave you. And even then, the guilt over not staying for your sake just makes my heart feel heavier by the second. I don't want to leave you, trust me, sweetie, I really don't. I love you so much to ever think about it, but I'm hurting so much, and I don't know how to stop it. If I do end up disapearing one day, please, promise me two things.

I don't want you ever to go looking for your papa, he's... he's not a good man. Not anymore. He and his family will only bring you trouble, and I don't want that for you. I only want you to live a long and happy life. That's what Mama wants for you. The second thing I want you to promise me is as simple as pie, but it means so much to me. No matter what happens, keep that pure heart of yours, alright? My junior, please be good.

Xoxo - Mama (Y/n)

A couple of tears slipped out of (Y/n) eyelids as they landed on the coffee table and a bit on the paper. She made sure to fold it as she went towards her room to hide it in her journal that was in her book case, saving it there if something did occur to her. She then moved back to the hallway, having only one goal left tonight.

Y/n silently pushed the door open, the moonlight softly poured through the drapes, illuminating the room with a lovely radiance. Looking at her son, sleeping soundly on his large bed with the blankets a little loose, made her heart fill with love. She smiled tenderly as she walked carefully on the soft carpet, being cautious not to make any noise that would wake his sound sleep.

His rapid growth was brought home to her with every stride, and she felt a rush of nostalgia for the time when he was still a small baby curled up in her arms. She crouched down as she got closer to the bedside, giving herself a chance to appreciate the calm way he breathed, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady cadence. She was drawn in by the purity of his dreams and was overcome with a want to be near him, to surround him with love and support.

With the utmost care, she crawled under the covers beside him, wrapped her arms around his small body. As though time had stopped, she embraced him, savouring the simplicity of the moment. As they lay there together, she heard his smooth breathing, each soft sigh serving as a reminder of their shared connection. For those few priceless minutes, the world outside vanished and they were alone in a cocoon of unwavering love. Knowing that she could keep him warm and comfortable in this peaceful place till the break of morning brought her a sense of calm that only a mother could comprehend.

Author's note: I'm not crying. You're crying! This is the final part of this series. Perhaps this wasn't the ending you wanted. But it's one where I felt that I wanted to see something different happen. So many Thomas Hewitt fanfics out there end up with you being with Thomas, and all though that's what we want. They aren't actually fulfilling in a way where everything is good, because at the end of the day, you're stuck with a cannibalistic family who are constantly in danger and are toxic as hell itself. And it dosen’t help that I wrote little sheep as a traumatised individual. I have plans to possibly do a spin-off series where Isaiah is the protagonist and will eventually meet the Hewitt family, but I don’t know if I should do it or not. If this series does end up getting well received and you like this idea. Maybe I'll make it become reality, but I'm not promising anything.

[daddyseverus]

Newt x Reader

Prompt: “I can’t do this anymore”

Prompt List

Character: Newt Scamander

Requested by anon

A/N: So inspiration for this request hit very quickly. I have older requests I still need to do so please be patient with me. I feel bad that I’m not doing requests in order but sometimes inspiration hits and other times it takes longer. I will do my best to do these older requests as soon as I can just need the inspiration to come. Please send in more prompts and what character you’d like me to write it for. I would also love some more requests for Newt because I love him so much. Thank you 💜

3 years you had been working with your closest friend. 3 years of helping him take care of magical creatures. And 3 years of being in love with a man who you knew only saw you as his best friend. Or at least that’s what you thought.

One day your friend Newt noticed a change in your demeanour. You had been acting very odd lately but it wasn’t until this day that he actually picked up on it properly. You weren’t your usual chatty and bubbly self.

You were feeding the Mooncalves when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Newt with a small smile on his face.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

“All good.” You lied.

“Can we talk?” Newt asked.

“Sure. What’s up?” You asked.

“What’s wrong with you Y/N?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know there’s something wrong with you. I know you too well to know when you’re hiding something.”

“Ok fine.” You sighed. “I just can’t do this anymore Newt.” You added.

“Y/N what do you mean?” He said concern in his eyes.

“This. Working with you. Helping you take care of all these amazing creatures. And yet only being your friend.” You said looking away from him, tears starting to stream down your face.

Newt lifted your face to make you look him in the eyes. He wiped away the tears that were falling from your eyes.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He asked.

“Yes Newt I’m in love with you. So I can’t keep working with you. “ you admitted.

Newt smiled before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Don’t be so silly you’re not going anywhere. And for the record I’m in love with you too. I never said anything because we’ve been friends for so long and I’ve loved working with you for these last few years. I also didn’t want to lose my best friend. So I kept quiet.” He said before gently kissing you again.

[traumadumpwriter]

Memory Games - 10

Newt x Female OC

A dark Maze Runner romance between a very damaged girl and our soft boy Newt. With trigger warnings for self harm, abuse, assault, PTSD, mentions of suicide and general violence. Also written in the style of multiple POVs.

"All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous."

All interaction is appreciated! Reblogging is allowed <3

Previous | Next

Masterlist

Chapter Ten

I was angry at Newt again and I didn't even really know why. Maybe because he'd made me feel like I was safe, and then taken his words back. Or maybe because he'd made me feel embarrassed by acting like I was so weak, so vulnerable. Or maybe because he'd brought me back to the reality of being in this place, the ever-looming threat of being the only girl, the idea in my head that I'd been sent here as some kind of punishment. Maybe that's what the creators wanted - for the boys to hurt and violate me. Maybe I'd done something awful to deserve that. Maybe that's why I'd tried to kill myself.

The thought of the scars under my sleeves had me even more worked up and I didn't realise until I sat down that I was shaking and all eyes were on me. I wanted to say something - to make a joke and break the ice - but my words got caught in my throat and I just stayed silent. Newt rejoined my side seconds later, sitting down in his usual spot, and though I heard words come out of his mouth I was unable to distinguish what they actually were. He wasn't talking to me though, someone else in the circle responded and soon there was a conversation happening around me. The stares seemed to lift and the ice seemed to break, though I couldn't entirely tell, my eyes focused on my lap and thoughts too loud to hear anything else.

Was Newt right? Of course he was. I'm stupid for getting cocky. I'm stupid for thinking I would be safe here. I'm stupid for trusting Gally and for not trusting Newt. I should apologise for being rude, but I can't bring myself to do it. Especially not in front of everyone. I'm sure they must already think so much bad stuff of me. They've probably heard so many things and half of them might be true. Why am I here? Why has this group taken me in? Do they just feel bad for me? Or do they want to rape me too? Is Newt in on it? Is that why I remembered his name? Does he have something to do with me being here?

"Angel, you alright?" Minho's whisper broke through my spiral and I jumped back at the sudden noise.

When I looked up, I was relieved to see that no one but him was looking at me, all seemingly amused by whatever they'd been talking about. Minho looked concerned though, his brows furrowed and eyes wide. I opened my mouth to answer him, but my words got caught in my throat again and I couldn't force out the lie. Instead, I just nodded and swallowed, taking a deep breath before bringing myself to speak.

"Y-Yeah. I'm gonna go bed." I forced a smile, and he could clearly see through it as his expression remained worried. Before he could question me further though I quickly stood up, avoiding the confused stares from all the boys around me, and started to walk towards the homestead.

"Where are you going?" Newt's voice came from behind me, assertive and accusatory, and I felt my face heating up. Now I would have to speak, if I ignored him it would surely just make things worse.

"Bed. Why?" I turned around and answered shortly, trying my hardest to act like I was fine - to act like I didn't care. But then at his next words I felt the anger inside me bubble up uncontrollably, induced by the humiliation I felt.

"Do you not remember the conversation we just had? You can't go off by yourself." He almost hissed, clearly as irritated with me as I was with him. I thought that our conversation had been private, so for him to mention it in front of everyone like that - let alone in such a demeaning way - had my teeth gritting and my heart in my throat. It was a sickening mix of anger, embarrassment and anxiety, made a hundred times worse by the silent watching from the group.

"It's a two minute walk." I replied with a scoff, trying so hard to pretend that I didn't care, knowing that if I pretended hard enough it would feel real. "Are one of the builders going to rape me between here and the homestead?"

Newt looked taken aback at that, as did everyone else, though the shock on his face didn't last long as he was soon looking angry again.

"Do you think it's a joke or something? Those lads would've had you already if it weren't for us."

"Ooh my saviours. Thank you so very much. How can I possibly repay you?" I muttered sarcastically.

"Try showing a little respect." Nick suddenly chimed in, standing up and pacing towards me. He stood inches from my face, blocking my view of Newt, and started to venomously hiss. "Things are already tough enough around here without some prissy princess threatening to make everything fall apart. He's right. If it weren't for him the whole Glade would've had you already."

"Oh is that right? Is that including you?" I challenged.

"Do you really want to find out?"

"Try me, pussy."

Nick sucked in his lips, visibly maddening with rage, and although I knew I ought to stop, knowing that I was under his skin served as much more of a delight. He was rude and miserable and I didn't like him, now was my chance to put him in his place even if it meant getting hit in the process. I was sick of feeling degraded by these lads, it was time to turn the tables.

"You forget your place, shank. You're still a greenie, girl or not, don't push people's buttons." He hissed and I let out a dry laugh.

"Or what? What are you gonna do about it? Go cry about getting stung again and the awful, awful memories it gave you?”

At that he shoved me hard, and I fell backwards onto the ground. I heard commotion from the lads and a few of them stand up, but now that I'd started I couldn't stop.

"Ooh I'm so scared. I'm fucking terrified of you, Nick. Big man Nick, scared of a little griever. Why don't you punch me, Nick? Huh? Show me how to show respect?"

I felt the hands of someone on me, and could see that someone else was holding Nick back, but my sight was focused entirely on him - his rage filled face, and suddenly he broke free from their grip and was bent down on top of me, his hand gripped tightly around my throat.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, bitch." He hissed, and I felt my oxygen start to deplete.

I was scared, but not enough to stop. It was like some kind of animal took over me, and my rage was one to match his.

"You'd be doing me a favour." I choked out and then added "Pussy."

"Fucking stop it!" I heard Minho's voice in my ear and I didn't know if he was talking to me or Nick.

There were hands on his body trying to pull him off me, but none of them seemed to be working. It had never occurred to me before that Nick was a big guy, bigger than Minho even, and perhaps I would die at his hands. The thought of death seemed like bliss in that moment, and I decided to accept it. I would let him end my suffering, and he could live for the rest of his life with his. My lungs had completely run out of oxygen at this point and I could sense my vision darkening. All around me there was noise, but it was impossible to distinguish one voice from another. My body rocked like a fish out of water and my vision went completely. I couldn't tell if I'd closed my eyes or if I was almost dead, and though it was unpleasant, I flowed with it.

Then there was suddenly a loud clang, followed by more shouting, and the blackness disappeared as fast as it had came. The weight from around my neck was gone, and my vision started to come back.

"Why'd you stop?" I forced out, confused as to where he'd gone. Then a coughing fit broke through my chest and my body started to automatically heavily breathe, almost hyperventilating. It was overwhelming, my acceptance of death followed by its cruel withdrawal, but as I was about to begin my taunts again, there was a gentle hand touching at my neck, stroking at where it was now sore.

*Minho’s POV*

"Try showing a little respect." Nick suddenly chimed in to the argument, pacing past Newt and standing in Angel's face. Everyone in the circle was sat with wide eyes, completely shocked by her attitude, and now that Nick had joined in, we were all visibly bracing ourselves for things to get worse.

"Things are already tough enough around here without some prissy princess threatening to make everything fall apart. He's right. If it weren't for him the whole Glade would've had you already." He hissed, and I cringed at his words. Was that what he really thought? Would he have been with the builders were his friends not all against them? Did he actually want to hurt her?

I expected Angel to back down at that, to at least show a little fear, but it only seemed to make her resolve stronger. A smug smirk appeared on her lips.

"Oh is that right? Is that including you?" She scoffed.

I looked over to Newt in disbelief. He was also wearing an expression of shock, frozen to the spot as he watched the argument go down. I knew how complicated his feelings towards Angel were, and I imagined that in that moment they only got ten times more complicated.

"Do you really want to find out?" Nick chortled.

"Try me, pussy." She laughed fearlessly and I felt my eyes widen even further. I looked around the circle and it was clear that everyone was in shock, except for Ben who was chuckling with amusement. I already knew what he would say as soon as the coast was clear - "That was hot" and though he wouldn't be wrong, my mind was far too frantic to think that in the moment.

Nick sharply inhaled and clenched his fists, and I got ready to throw myself into him, a feeling of dread building in my stomach.

"You forget your place, shank. You're still a greenie, girl or not, don't push people's buttons." He spat to which she quickly replied "Or what? What are you gonna do about it? Go cry about getting stung again and the awful, awful memories it gave you?”

"Oh shit." Ben chuckled, but then suddenly Nick had shoved Angel hard and sent her flying onto the ground. At that, we all stood up, half of the group going to Angel and the other half going to Nick. I had half the mind to knock Nick out, but I decided to go to Angel, worried that she'd banged her head.

"Don't fucking touch her" I heard Newt hiss and Ben say "Dude, what the fuck" but I didn't see Nick's reaction to that, too focused on the girl on the floor.

She moaned lightly - obviously something had been hurt - and then I heard Jeff frantically say "Are you alright, Angel? Did you bang your head?"

She didn't seem to hear him though, opening her eyes and looking at Nick with a taunting grin. For shuck's sake. What was wrong with this girl?

"Ooh I'm so scared. I'm fucking terrified of you, Nick. Big man Nick, scared of a little griever. Why don't you punch me, Nick? Huh? Show me how to show respect?" She spat, trying to sit up. I held her down though, whispering as soothingly as I could "Stop, Angel. Stop."

Her vision was focused entirely on Nick, and I wasn't sure if she'd even heard me or Jeff speak to her. I looked up at him and could see Newt and Ben holding him back, his teeth bared and eyes wide like a rabid dog. I'd seen him lose his temper before, but never like this.

And then suddenly, one of the boy's grips slipped and he was on top of her, his hands wrapped around her little throat. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Quickly, I tried to shove him off her but it wasn't working, his strength focused entirely on her neck.

"Get off her!" I shouted and I heard a few of the other lads say the same thing, but he didn't stop. Newt was desperately pulling at his shoulders, as was Ben, but it made no difference.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, bitch." He hissed, and I felt my panic increase tenfold. I grabbed his arm and pulled at it, feeling his veins popping out beneath my hand, but his grip on her remained strong.

"You'd be doing me a favour, pussy." She choked out, and I turned to her in disbelief. Did she really want to die?

"Fucking stop it!" I hissed at her, mind-blown at her determination. Where was the timid girl that had ran from the box? Maybe this was to be expected, she did punch Gally moments after arriving after all.

"Stop it!" Chuck's scream was piercing above everyone else's shouts, his voice shaking. At this point, her eyes had rolled back and her body had started to rock from the lack of oxygen. I started to desperately punch Nick, going for his face and his neck, definitely leaving bruises, but he didn't react. What on earth had come over him?

Then, something metal had struck his head - hard. His eyes closed and his grip loosened before he fell backwards and passed out on the ground, blood dripping from the fresh wound. I looked up and saw that Newt was stood there panting, a spade in his hand and his face contorted with more fury than I'd ever seen on him.

"Restrain him!" I heard Alby's voice shout, and my head snapped towards him. He must've just arrived, Clint was stood at his side breathing heavily. Zart and Ben moved quickly to tie Nick's arms and legs while he was still out, whilst Newt rushed to Angel's side.

"Why'd you stop?" She whispered, her eyes bloodshot, before starting to violently cough. Her whole body caved in on itself as she coughed and gasped for air, and I quickly put my arms under her back to sit her up straight.

"Hey, stop it. What's wrong with you?" Newt said quietly, his hands visibly shaking as he stroked the red marks on her neck. He was angry - I could tell that - but I wasn't sure who with. Then Alby was beside us with Clint and I backed away to give them some space, though Newt didn't move an inch.

When I stood up I realised I was shaking too. I turned to where Nick was and saw that Ben and Zart were dragging him in the direction of the slammer. I raced to catch up with them and picked up his legs, making it easier to carry him.

"Dude, what the fuck was that?" Ben muttered in disbelief. "I mean, she was grilling him, and then he just.. choked her like that. He's gonna get banished. I can't believe this."

"He deserves it for that. I get he's different since he got stung, but that was not alright." Zart said lowly, shooting Nick a glare before turning to me. "Is Angel okay?"

I shrugged, struggling to find the answer in my shaken up state. In my head I could still clearly see the image of Angel's rolled back eyes and Nick's hands around her throat. It sent a feeling of unease down my spine.

"I-I don't know. All the shit she was saying, it's like she wanted him to do something. L-Like she didn't care if he killed her." I finally managed to say, unable to wrap my head around it all.

"Well good thing he didn't. Think Newt would've killed him. That's if he's not going to already." Zart muttered and Ben hummed in agreement. "I think that's probably on his mind."

*Newt’s POV*

I smacked Nick as hard as I could with a spade I'd quickly grabbed from nearby, my heart going a thousand miles an hour. I could hear it thumping in my ears, louder than any of the commotion or the clang that the metal had made as it struck Nick's head. He fell down almost instantly, and though I saw blood start to leak from the wound, I felt no concern for the boy I'd once considered a friend. In fact for the split second that I looked at him, all I felt was disgust. His threats had shown me the true nature of who he was - a pig just like Gally - and I couldn't help but feel betrayed by that. Then after watching him lay his hands on Angel like that, the betrayal had turned to rage. How dare he.

I quickly rushed to her side, glad to see that Minho and Jeff were already there. Then I heard Alby's voice but ignored it, my focus being entirely on Angel. Her neck was red - there would certainly be bruises in the morning - and she looked tired, like that whole confrontation had physically drained some life from her. I suppose it sort of had - almost entirely.

"Why'd you stop?" She finally choked out, a violent coughing fit following her words. Words that stung to hear.

As she gasped for air, Minho slipped his arm under her back and sat her up straight whilst I found my hands automatically moving towards her neck, gently stroking the redness. Her skin felt so soft and another wave of rage burst through me, cursing Nick for daring to damage something so delicate. Just moments ago I had been so annoyed at her, but now I felt sick, wondering if I'd been less harsh would she have felt the need to wind Nick up? To have put herself in harms way?

"Hey, stop it. What's wrong with you?" I said quietly, her words playing on a loop in my head. Why would she continue trying to taunt Nick after he'd almost killed her? Did she really want to die? Was it that bad being here?

I moved one of my arms so that it was wrapped around her, keeping her sat up whilst she spluttered, and Minho moved away. Alby and Clint were at my side seconds later, both clearly panicked.

"What happened?" Alby demanded and I swallowed before answering, trying to get my rage under control so that I didn't spit his name.

"Nick's lost his bloody mind. Almost killed her." I answered before turning my attention back to Angel who was still coughing.

"You okay?" I whispered, her body shaking in my arms.

She nodded whilst Clint inspected her neck, flinching away from his touch initially before realising who it was.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine." She spluttered, her breathing starting to return to normal.

Alby raised his eyebrow at Clint who nodded.

"She should be fine, just some bruising. But a minute more and he would've killed her. I've never seen anything like it Alby. He just snapped."

"It's my fault- I wound him up- on purpose. I- I don't want him to- die- because of me." She said in between coughs, craning her neck with a hiss of pain to look at Alby. "Punish me- if you want- I don't care."

"We don't punish Gladers for words, Angel." He hesitated before saying her name, looking at me with uncertainty before continuing. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah- I'm fine. Just tired." She answered and then looked at me. Her eyes were bloodshot but fully open now and her coughing had finally stopped. "Can I go to bed?"

I almost smiled at the question and how it fell so innocently from her lips, but my heart still hurt thinking of her previous words and so my mouth remained in a straight line as I nodded.

"I'll take you.. I should've just done that earlier. Sorry."

"What? No. I was being a bitch, Newt. I had that coming-"

"He almost killed you." I cut her off dryly and her mouth quickly closed, clearly having no comeback to that. She looked embarrassed and I instantly regretted my words slightly, knowing how she hated to feel weak, but it was true. I then said in a softer tone "Can you walk? Or should I carry you?"

I already knew what her answer to that would be. She pushed herself from my arms and wobbled for a few seconds before standing up.

"I can walk." She answered in a mutter, clearly uncomfortable as she looked around and realised a small crowd had gathered. I shot a harsh look around and some of the group instantly began to disband.

I stood up and had to fight the urge to pick her up anyway. Her touch had felt like heaven against my skin and now that it was gone again, I was desperately craving it - even more than usual. I was definitely still shook up from the drama of what had just happened, but I knew then that I could never bare to loose her, that she was probably right about me being in her dream, that it was no coincidence that she'd remembered my name. We belonged together, I just didn't know if she knew that yet.

I walked with her to the homestead, staying as close to her as I could without actually touching her, and neither of us spoke until we were in her bedroom.

"Newt- I- I'm sorry." She stammered once the door was closed but I cut her off, pulling her into a hug. She froze for a second before returning it, burying her face into my chest. I was sure she could hear my heart racing.

"Did you really want him to kill you? Is it that bad being here?" I asked quietly. She felt so small in my arms, like a tiny hare I'd just caught, and I once again felt the rage for Nick bubbling up in my gut.

"I don't know. I think I was sent here as a punishment. That's why they made me the only girl. The creators, they want you all to hurt me. I must've done something bad to earn this." She whispered and then looked up at me, still pressed closely against my body. "It wouldn't be so bad if I died, would it? It would make everything easier for everyone, surely?"

"No Angel, don't say that." I sighed, moving one hand to rub her back. "If you died.. well it would really fuck me up to be honest. Just seeing that then... has kind of fucked me up."

"Really? But I'm fine."

"But you almost weren't." I whispered, grimacing as I looked at her red throat. "And the fact that I couldn't even pull him off you... I've never felt so weak."

"I'm sorry." She apologised again, her eyes radiating with guilt. "I shouldn't have said all that stuff. I knew I was getting under his skin. I just couldn't stop. I don't know why."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're okay. Lord knows I would've bloody killed him if you weren't."

A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips and she let out a bashful giggle before saying "Didn't take you for a killer, Newt."

"And I didn't take you to have such a sharp tongue, but here we are." I chuckled lightly.

She let out a little huff before leaning her head into my chest again and I instinctively moved one of my hands so that I was holding it, cradling her head like a precious gem. We stood like that for a short while, comfortable silence filling the room. Then there came a cough from the doorway and we quickly pulled apart, both of our faces going pink as we met eyes with Alby. He didn't look impressed.

"I've spoke to all the boys, they said he almost killed you. He's going to be banished." He said plainly.

"Good." I thought but Angel started to visibly panic.

"B-Banished? Like sent into the maze? To d-die?" She stammered and Alby nodded.

"But I wound him up! I said stuff just to make him mad! You can't kill him! It's my fault!" She protested but Alby remained unfazed.

"I heard all about what you said, Greenie. Might have been harsh, but doesn't warrant attempted murder. You know the rules; Glader's can't hurt other Glader's. I let him get away with it and you might not be so lucky next time." Then he let out a frustrated sigh. "It'll be done tomorrow, you can watch or not, makes no difference. But don't go far, as soon as that's done there's a meeting due. Get ready to explain yourself, some of these boys aren't impressed."

Hiii I hope you all enjoy, I don’t know how I feel about this chapter hence why I hadn’t uploaded it. Thanks @extremebookreader for the inspo to read through this and upload it though, kind words mean the world 💝 Stay safe my lovelies xxx

[nomoreusername]

Helpful

Pairing:Newt x female reader

Summary:After spending all day with Newt you say something that proves you may return his feelings.

Y/N was always full of energy, and today was no different. Her bubbly personality made it impossible not to smile. There's just something about her that makes you feel better.

"Good morning Newt. Did you sleep well?"She asked, sitting a few feet away from me.

"I did, but what are you out doing here? It's your day off,"I reminded her.

"It is, but I wanted to see if you'd like a hand,"She shrugged.

As kind as that was it kind of worried me.

"Are you sure? A little rest never killed anyone,"I pointed out.

"Neither did a little bit of help. Besides, I like spending time with you. Now, what can I do?"She repeated.

I debated whether I should say nothing or actually let her help. Then again if I said no she'd just go find someone else who needed something. Plus, it wasn't like I'd ever pass up an opportunity to spend time with her.

"Could you help with the grapes?"I asked.

"You got it Newt."

♡ - - - ♡

We had spent the day side by side. By dinner my face was sore from smiling so much.

Even though that was great I could tell she was worn out. I also knew she wasn't going to admit it. She was just stubborn like that.

"It looks we had another great day,"She remarked. She was an optimist at heart so she said this almost everyday. Sometimes, I'm convinced she only does it so everyone else is in a good mood. Whatever the reason was it made the Glade seem just a little bit brighter.

"Yeah,"I agreed, taking a bite of my meal. However, she looked ten seconds away from passing out.

"Are you okay?"I asked. She gave me a thumbs up and leaned back.

We sat in silence for a little bit until she almost incoherently mumbled my name.

"Yes love?"I asked. She didn't say anything else, and I turned to see she was dead asleep. To be more specific she was dead asleep while mumbling my name.

"Aww. Aren't you two adorable?"Minho commented, knowing how I felt about her. I ignored the red creeping up my neck. "When you get the courage to tell her,"He added.

I was definitely still working on it, but this made it just a little bit easier.

[ay0nha]

Hi! Could I request something with adult Newt Scamander? Like, maybe having a cute moment while doing some gardening with him? That's so cottagecore hufflepuff newt Scamander fluff

Fem or gender neutral reader if you decide to do it 😅 thank you!!

OOOOOOOO

Yes. Yes. Yes.

This is very cute! I love the concept. I think I may have to throw some angst in there. Imagine the reader and Newt are still in that pining phase, and feelings are revealed along the way.

I've started concocting a lil sm sm and am putting a lil snippet of progress below! So, stay tuned :)

Words: 0.6K, Pairing: Newt Scamander x gn!reader (ravenclaw)

You had a green thumb. You were convinced of it by how your fingers traced the dew drops on your newly sprouted strawberries. They were small, not quite showing deep red hues, but they were there.  Excitement bubbled in your chest. Your inner Ravenclaw finally became content, finally proving to your old Herbology professor that you truly could excel in all subjects.  

The sun's warmth was just settling on the leaves of the small garden, creating a humid mist. It was far too early to knock on Newt’s case. The picture was already in your head—him startled, sleep marks mirroring the indents of the desk he laid his head on. Either that, or he was still awake, not quite ready to call it a night, or let alone realize the next day was already creeping up. 

That time already? He’d ask innocently, hoping it would ease the look you shot him. Yet, if it had to come down to it, he knew what could truly thaw your glare. Anything new in your garden? 

“Strawberries.” The voice that startled you was small, barely perceptible in the soft breeze.

“You’re up?” You brushed the dirt off your hands to busy yourself.  The only time Newt was up before you was when he was leaving. To hide your frown, you turned to your trowel to fiddle with. “Where are you off to this time?”

“Australia,” Newt commented. “Poachers have been taking Acromantuas there.”

Talking about his creatures, Newt naturally rambled. The spiders were taken from their homes under the guise of protection, only to be taken to Australian farms to be bred. You wondered how he followed and tracked all the peculiarities, but over the years, you learned it was pure instinct. 

Newt watched your gaze travel, thinking your interest in what he had to say was lost. Yet, he missed how your gaze covered your thoughts of how you would miss his company. His time away varied, and you’d grown accustomed to the chattering of creatures and an extra mouth to feed. 

“Have breakfast before you leave.” You decided for him, already pushing yourself from the ground to match his height. 

The kitchen table was small, meant for one person, as was the home itself. It was charming, cozy, and away from the noise of any city. The chairs pulled up at the table were mismatched and caused your knees to hit Newt’s with every shared meal habitually. 

You noted Newt’s comfortability off of it all, of your company. No longer did he blush and apologize with every knock on the knee, but instead, he leaned into it. Or so that’s how you wished to imagine it. 

“How long will you be gone?” The question felt caught at the back of your throat. Once relieved of its position, you sat up a bit straighter.

Newt’s eyes were on your crossed leg, which pulled away from his own. Subconscious or not, he offered you a questioning expression.

“You’ve never asked me that before…” The comment slipped out with pure curiosity, without realizing the repercussions of the blunt tone. “I-I mean, you…you just, I won’t be…” He paused with a nervous laugh before pushing out the rest, “...I won’t be gone long.”

You hummed in thought, your eyes cast down.“You may miss out on the strawberries, is all.”  

I’ll miss you, is what you meant to get across. You confessed the feeling in your chest to yourself, but you hadn’t attempted to share it. You planned to take it to the grave.

“I’m sure there will be plenty,” Newt encouraged knowingly. “Your garden has been growing beautifully.”

Although the one to offer the compliment, Newt was bashful. The compliments weren’t frequent, but their existence caused a welcomed ripple in your chest.

[angel-graces-world-of-chaos]

WIP Game

@thelov3lybookworm you're killing me istg I don't actually have any good wips T_T

The way I was desperately searching ALL my WIPS to complete this...

Rules

You will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

F:

“Funny how that fell exactly during the time when Agatha had to do the dishes. Even Jem was there!”

“That’s because it’s Jem.”

“Oh Razriel, enough!” Charlotte cried, as she massaged her temples.

(Unpublished Jem Carstairs x OC from The Infernal Devices Trilogy. Ngl, re-reading that was funny af — if y'all want, I can expand the excerpt a bit hehe)

A:

A young girl was wandering through the markets, stealing food and knick knacks from under the watchful eyes of the vendors. Her brother was keeping an eye on her from the shadows, ready to jump in if she was caught. Upon passing his hiding spot with a bag of goods, the two scurried to another hiding spot together. Shouts could be heard from the markets of a thief, but the two siblings were well hidden and giggling at the fact, that they had once again been successful.

(Harry Hook x OC I once published when I first had this account, before deleting the account because I was too internet addicted. How the tables have turned...)

M:

Misty nodded happily before helping herself to some fruit. Just as Ashley was about to reach for a strawberry, Glenn and Blight stepped into the room and took their respective seats.

“You both did well in the parade yesterday. That will hopefully gain you some sponsors for the Games. Speaking of, the Games are in 3 days. That means, 3 days of training, both for the Games and for interviews.” Blight explained, looking at the two tributes. “Now I’m assuming you both know how to handles axes?”

(Unpublished Finnick Odair x OC, Hunger Games.)

I:

“It is not a matter of ability. It’s about manners.” He replied smoothly as if explaining a concept to a young child.

“Ma— Manners?! MANNERS?!” Came the incensed reply, “You… you…” Breathing heavily, the young girl stood from the table, eyes ablaze with fury. “Congratulations, Riddle! You just caused me to lose my appetite!” And with that, she stood from the table, walked out of the Great Hall and disappeared from view.

(Unpublished Tom Riddle x OC. I forgot about this one ngl... One of my first pieces of writing.)

L:

Leta turned her head to the blonde witch, giving her a glare, before looking towards the front of the classroom. 

The two friends were currently in a double Transfiguration period, but while Adelaide was taking notes every few seconds, Leta was staring at a brown-haired Hufflepuff.

“Merlin’s sake, Leta!” The thirteen year old hissed, snapping her fingers in front of her friend’s face, bringing her out of her stare. “Stop staring at him!”

(Unpublished Newt Scamander x OC. Hear me out, Newt is cute ok... he's got that nerdy, smart thing going on... plus the red hair... I'll see myself out.)

Y:

“You are?” Talbott stared at the young blonde. He couldn’t think of a reason why she would be worried about him. “I get why Penny’s worried. But why are you worried?”

“Because you’re my friend and I care about you.” Adelaide grinned at Talbott, causing him to blink in surprise.

(Unpublished Talbott Winger x OC. I was a little too obsessed with the Harry Potter Mobile Game... and that was just when the whole dating option was made available...)

So erm, looks like I have a lot of wips because I didn't think I'd actually complete the challenge... hehehehee... oops?

Some of these I forgot about and going back to them was like reading a book you hadn't read in a long time: oh riiiight, that's what happened, huh, weird.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

Tagging @imagines--galore @bubbles-for-all-of-us @cressidagrey

I, unlike someone, do not expect you to participate if you don't want to. Absolutely not looking at @thelov3lybookworm here ahem.