#newton scamander x reader
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pickett-favors-me · 10 months ago
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Heyyy, I’m back with more storieees. Well only one but still.
Character: Newt Scamander X Fem Reader
Plot: Y/n goes home early after catching Newt and Tina kissing, but Newt follows her onto the boat.
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Warnings: none, just fluffy I think.
I saw them. Their lips connected. My heart shattered . I cleared my throat making Newt quickly move away. Tina looked confused before looking over at me. Her face immediately turning angry. She was pissed. "My boat will be sailing off in 30 minutes, so I will be leaving." I explained to them. "You're already going home?" Newt asked. I nodded as I looked him right in the eyes.
"But I thought we would be leaving together?" He asked confused. "Yeah, but I want to go home now." I answered. "Well... goodbye, Y/n." Tina said as she looked at me with a smile. I didn't answer her before walking off, making my way towards the boat I would be leaving with.
I boarded my boat and was immediately greeted by one of the workers. "A room for one?" I asked her. "Right this way..." She answered with a polite smile. "Y/n y/l/n." I told her. She lead me to an empty room. She opened the door and I saw the queen sized bed against the back wall. "Thank you." I told her with a smile. "If you need anything, you can use the phone and call down to the lobby." She told me. I nodded before she left. I let out a sigh and moved into the room, shutting the door behind me.
I sat on my bed and buried my face in my hands. I was really hoping Newt wouldn't end up with her. I was really hoping he wouldn't end up with anyone for that matter. Why did I even break it off with him in the first place? He's always treated me the way no one else had the balls to. Yet I always just stepped on him, not caring about him. But now I realized just how much I really loved him. How much I still love him. I laid down and let my body slowly slip into a sleeping state. Completely forgetting the fact that it was only 3 pm.
Newts POV
I was running all I could towards the check in. It was still open. "Oh thank merlin." I breathed out. I handed him my ticket. "What's in the luggage?" He asked not really caring. I switched the switch and put the case on the table. He opened it up, checking my stuff. "Go on." He ushered me off. I picked up my case and speed walked onto the ship.
I made my way over to the closest worker. "Hello, do you know where Y/n Y/l/n is?" I asked out of breath. "Room 112." The worker answered. I quickly made my way to the room.
I carefully opened the door. I saw her fast asleep on the bed. She was still wearing all of her clothes and was laying on her stomach. Her hair was a mess. She was a mess. I sat down beside her, wondering if I should wake her up. What even happened that wanted her to go home so soon?
I decided to wait with waking her up. I placed my case down on the ground and stepped inside. I went down into my shack and prepared two cups of tea for us. As they were done, I went back up with both cups in my hands. I placed them down on the nightstand before sitting back down on the bed beside her.
I placed my hand softly on her back as I massaged her lightly. "Y/n?" I asked lowly. She moved slightly. "Not right now, mom." She mumbled as she laid onto her side. "Darling?" I asked her. "Newt?" She asked confused without opening her eyes. "It's me." I answered her, trying to be as comforting as possible.
Her eyes shot open as she sat up abruptly. "Newt!?" She exclaimed. "Yes?" I answered her. She looked me over before standing up and taking a few steps away from me, making sure to keep her distance. "Why aren't you in New York with your girlfriend?" She asked me. It was obvious it hurt her to even think about it. "Who would my girlfriend be?" I asked her confused. I don't have a girlfriend. And if I did, y/n would be the first to know. She's the one I trust the most.
"Tina? You kissed her." She told me. Oh. "Y/n." I tried calming her down as I stood up. She took a step away. "I'm not in a relationship with her." I explained. "But you kissed her?" She asked. "She kissed me. Why do you even care so much about it?" I asked her.
"Because I do."
"Y/n, you're my best friend, I would tell you if I ever got a lover."
She kept quiet as her eyes stayed down, her head hanging slightly.
"But what if I don't want to be your friend?" Her voice was breaking slightly. My face immediately dropped. My heart sank. "What do you mean?" I asked. I can't lose her. I cannot lose Y/n. "I don't want to be your best friend. I don't want to be your friend. I want... I want what we used to have." She told me, her last few words coming out in a whisper.
"Y/n." I tried calming her down as I noticed the wet droplets making their way down her S/c cheeks. "I just... I can't handle seeing you happy with someone else... I can't handle change." She told me. "It's okay." I told her reassuringly as I stood in front of her, wrapping my arms tightly around her.
"No. It's not okay, because it's completely idiotic and egotistical. I'm only thinking about what I want and not taking your feelings into consideration. I want you to be happy, I really do, but I want it to be with me. I want to be the one making you smile. I want to be the one making you laugh." She told me. Her voice low and raspy. "Y/n, shut up." I told her, feeling my shirt get wet by her tears. "I'm sorry." She whispered into my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me as well.
"I want you too. No I need you." I told her as I cupped her cheeks, moving her away from me just slightly. Her eyes were completely blood shot. "You're crying." Y/n said. I then noticed the wetness of my face. "So are you." I told her as I dried away her tears with my thumbs.
I looked deeply into her intoxicating e/c eyes. Before thinking, I pressed my lips down on hers. She quickly wrapped her arms around my neck as she clamped herself onto my body. I held my right arm tight around her waist as my left hand kept cupping her cheek. As our lips danced with each other, I finally felt at peace again. She was my sturdy ground. My home. And I only ever wanted to be hers. Always
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elianas-cozycorner · 2 years ago
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𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕿𝖔 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 | 𝕹𝖊𝖜𝖙 𝕾𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗
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Chapter One | Sweden
Summary: Several months after sharing a longing, intimate moment with your boss, Newt, you find yourself in the heart of a thrilling adventure.
Will chasing smugglers, taming dragons, and awkward family dinners be the key to pushing the two of you closer?
Author's Note: Here is the long awaited, long requested sequel to my fiction "Stumped"! Please, to all those who had previously enjoyed the story and requested this, accept my sincerest apologies.
I never knew how to continue the plotline until now. Rest assured, this multi-chapter fic will have everything you could ever desire! Depending on how this goes, I may change the rating. (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Disclaimer: I have made this work non-compliant with canon for several reasons. Including a) lack of desire to be associated with films 2 & 3, b) for flow and story purposes, and c) because I do not condone J.K.R's behavior and wish to use my writing to bring joy despite the hurt she has caused.
Ao3 - General Audience Word Count: 1099 Warnings: None
"And so it was that you were left to sketch and think. It seemed that Newt was not the only one in a predicament, as confusion too clouded your mind. You were stumped. Stumped as to why Newt had seemed so pleased with your staring, why his smiling never ceased, and why he had chosen to keep you in his company after that. " - Stumped (2020)
/////
The air was hot, the wind scorching, and no relief could be found in any amount of water you carried. Despite the great altitude, no snow decorated the cliff faces and mountain peaks. Each breath only served to fuel coughing fits, what with the dryness and heavy musk of dragon. By all accounts, the world should have been covered in white, howling winds should have whipped ice across the craggy stone, and you definitely shouldn’t have been in a simple blouse and trousers. 
Yet, here you were. Wand drawn and a thin cloth covering your mouth, without any form of elemental protection. You’d always imagined your first trip to Sweden would be for recreation. Though, you supposed, searching for a smuggled Swedish Short-snout hatchling was more exciting than an office job at the Ministry.
“How are you fairing, darling?” A smooth, strong voice called to you.
You looked up at the man, watching him clamber up another outcropping of rock. Newt was in as much a state of discomfort as you were. His once voluminous curls fell, soaked with sweat, into his face, his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbow, and the cloth he held to his face was grimy. However, there was a crinkle at the corner of his eye that told you just how much he was enjoying this. You couldn’t help but return his smile though he couldn’t see it. 
“Perfectly content, Mr. Scamander! I only wonder at the heat, it is unexpected!” You tried your best to keep your voice level. 
“She must be in distress,” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I haven’t seen any blue flames yet, so she is still a good way up.”
“I suppose she’s turned much of the mountain side up there black.” You caught up with him and leaned on him for support.
“And any foliage to ash,” There was a fondness in his voice. “It’s likely how she escaped her captors to begin with. Many smugglers are unprepared for the heat of a Short-snout’s fire.”
You nodded and flicked your wand. The charm was quick to take effect, cooling both of you instantly. You would not risk cleansing your attire or casting a verbal spell here. The sweat and dragon musk clung to your clothing like a natural camouflage. It would be hard for the dragon to detect you, much less so if you kept your spell-casting to a minimum. 
Newt thanked you once he’d finished taking a sip of water. The synthetic waterskin was enchanted to keep its contents cool and permanently full. He offered it to you shyly, bumping it against your hand gently. 
“Drink.” His voice was soft, gentle. He wouldn’t command you to drink against your will, but there was a heavy tone of suggestion there nonetheless. It was your turn to thank him.
You took the waterskin, careful not to let your touch linger too long. Ever since that day in the suitcase, when your eyes had met and the world slowed to a stop, things had been different. Awkward. It never hindered your work, never interfered with your capabilities in tending to and drawing Mr. Scamander’s creatures, but it was always there. For you, anyway. It didn’t seem as though Newt understood how wholly that moment changed things for you. He was too sweet, too gentlemanly, to think of it as anything other than a moment between friends. 
“Try to keep up, Mr. Scamander.” You forged ahead, unable to stand beside him for longer than was necessary. 
Eventually, your trek up the mountainside proved fruitful. Newt once again led the way up. The heat only worsened, but that was to be expected when the stone underfoot was blackened and cracked. Any plants that may have grown from crevices in the rock were turned into small piles of ash, blown about by the wind. Which, as it happened, was not wind at all. The second thing to catch the eye of one Mr. Newt Scamander, was the flurry of movement from above. He placed his hand out behind him, palm facing you, and brought a finger to his lips. Then he pointed up.
Above, on an outcropping of stone, giant wings beat the air and battered against the rocks. Occasionally, chunks of char and sediment were flung down or broke off. The sound of the dragon’s beating wings paired with the gusts of wind against your skin. You had not been listening to the rage of mother nature. Instead, it had been the hatchling. With a look of concern, Newt pulled out two sets of thick, rubbery gloves and black, sturdy goggles. No words were exchanged as each of you donned the new accessories. The fire-resistant material felt strange against the skin, but otherwise did not offer much inconvenience. Just as Newt turned to lead you up to the outcropping, a massive chain swung down. It rattled evilly, smacking down across several sharp protrusions, and barely missed the Magizoologist. 
Newt pressed himself flush with the mountain and tugged you with him. “Careful! She must have tangled herself up when landing.”
The chain rose up through the air once more and now it was obvious that with each attempt at flight, the flapping was accompanied by rattling and creaking. Before, you had watched the pretty, pale creature take off into the sky but now she was grounded. A plume of searing blue flame spread out and up into the sky. The smell of burnt hair caused your stomach to twist. 
Looking to the man currently under the employment of the ‘Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau’ you began, “Mr. Scamander–”
He said your name, “It’s Newt. Please. Newt is far shorter and works best in cases such as these.”
You started again, “Merlin’s beard! Alright, Newt. How do you propose we get up there?”
“It’s far too dangerous to go up now, she’ll knock us off or roast us.” He chuckled lightly. “But it’s too dangerous to leave her up there alone. Those chains have to come off.”
“How do you calm a Swedish Short-snout?” You leaned closer to him as another, smaller chain whips by. 
"You know," He looked at you. "I am not entirely sure."
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romance-lover77 · 2 years ago
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Newt Scamander x Fem Muggle Reader Mini Comic
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Dialogue
Queenie: “Newt! understand! She doesn’t want to see you!”
Newt: “Please! I need to see her! I need to talk to her!”
*Newt turns around and his eyes widened as he sees y/n and her pregnant bump
side note: sorry if the drawing isn’t that good
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dreme-inc · 4 years ago
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When the Amortentia
...reminds them of you. Harry Potter preference. Draco, Ginny, George, Fred, and Newt (feat. gender-neutral reader).
[ Happy Valentine’s! ]
-- Draco
Malfoy’s sole heir is taken by the beginning shocks a little. He doesn’t have too much trouble- the Malfoy name is powerful, and anyone is lucky to have the lone son’s attention, he’s aware. It’s more building the nerve to approach any feelings on you because he’s very serious.
You mean so much to him. He’d, honestly, handle it well if you denied him as long as he did everything he could, and correctly. If some careless mistake messed anything between you two, he’d never forgive himself.
-- Ginny
The youngest Weasley is only caught off guard because of the initial shock, really. She’s smart, and conscious of the person who has caught her eye. It’s more of a surprise getting such strong proof on her feelings for you.
Not too much changes, but she is hopeful- like a crush- to catch your attention in more than friendship soon. She could make you as happy as you make her, she knows it. It is a tall order though, since it takes a single thought on you to have her smiling.
-- George
The sweet boy is speechless for once. He’s working with Fred on shop inventory and is hit with a ton of bricks the first time he realizes it. These scents- he’d know them anywhere and, most of all, he associates them with you. It’s quite effective to stopping him in his tracks.
Fred quickly notices; said twin brother then trying to lighten the mood with some teasing. He laughs in response, but does take the matter very seriously- the wheels turning for more than a prank. He wants this chance with you.
-- Fred
Unbeknownst to George, the rougher twin could almost laugh. It ensures the batch of their softer love potions weren’t defective, at least. When he recognizes scents he associates with you, it sort of makes him happier because he doesn’t doubt any feelings for you.
He likely won’t approach with a solid plan, as the gentler twin likely will, but they’ll help- and tease- one another in getting there. He does take it carefully (he doesn’t want to lose anything between you two), but handles and reacts to it differently.
-- Newt
Young Scamander humorously doesn’t really register it at first. He’s so used to adoring you from your side, he simply thinks you must be on his mind again and continues working. It’s only when he needs to concentrate on said duty- likely a task on creatures- and finds he can’t does he stop and look.
The scent is strong- were you here? And he finds you aren’t. It’s a love potion, and the poor baby is left trying to think of what to do next... and hopefully what to confess to you very soon.
Note: George and Fred aren’t in love with the same person (unless it’s what you’d like, of course ^^) If you’re with George, Fred has the scent of someone else, and vise versa.
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raven-black102 · 6 years ago
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I wanted to add Credence since he needs a lot of love! So I hope you enjoy this crazy idea of mine.
(Y/n)'s POV
"Hello Credence." I said as I crouch down to the boy level. "Hello Mrs. (Y/n)." Credence mumbled softly as I gave him a cup of mint hot chocolate. "Just call me (Y/n). How are you feeling?" I asked as Niffler instantly ran towards me along with Dougal.
Credence gave me a small smiled as I held my round belly feeling the baby gently kick. "Better now. Thank you (Y/n) for everything." Credence said as I grin at him. "Its no problem love. Oh his kicking again." I mumbled as Dougal gently place his hand on my swollen belly.
"I think he likes you Dougal." I said as I felt yet another soft kick that was were Dougals hand. Douglas eyes widen as he jumped up and down excitedly as the Niffler placed his paw where Douglas hand once was. Yet again the baby kick causing Niffler to nuzzle himself closer to my belly.
"C-can I feel?" Credence stuttered as I look up at him with a soft smile. "Sure. Give me your hand." I said gently as all of Newts creature got out of there exhibit and stood around me and Credence.
I gently place Credence hand on my belly causing the baby to place it small hand on his. "Oh! I think he like you Credence!" I cheered as Credence eyes widen and filled with such pure happiness and excitement just like Dougal.
"What in Merlin beard is going on here?" I heard my husband called out as I look up. "The Baby is kicking love!" I yelled as the creature slightly growled or snarled at Newt as he tried to get to me.
"Oh. I think the creature are trying to protect you?" Newt said studying there behavior. Even Frank is hissing at him. "You hear that sweetheart looks like you have a lot of protector that's can replace your daddy.~" I teased as Credence lays his head on my lap causing me to run my hands through his hair.
"Hey?! I can be just as protective as these creatures." Newt exclaim keeping his distance at the creature stare him down like a hawk. "Come on guys let Newt feel the baby." I said as they stepped away as Newt walk through then towards me.
"Ma. How can you tell its a boy?" Credence asked causing my heart to melt a bit. "Well we go to the nurses and they do an ultrasound to see this little guy." I said as Newt crouched down in front of me as he grin at Credence.
"It could be a girl but your mother thinks its a boy. Only Jacob and Queenie knows what gender the baby is." Newt said as he gently press his hand on my swollen baby.
"Hey sweetheart how about you go easy on your mother. She has to carry you around for 3 more months then your out." Newt whispered as I felt small hands press agents Newt causing his eyes to lightly up brightly.
I smiled and giggled as the creatures huddled closer to us. "We all cant wait to welcome you to this world." I said placing my hand on top of Newts as I place A gentle kiss on Credence forehead. "And you have an amazing brother to help you out. And beautiful creature to protect you." I added with a soft giggle.
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strangewhitegirl321 · 6 years ago
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Injured (Newt Scamander)
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{Not my gif.}
Words: 1746
Unedited.
Originally posted to my Wattpad account.
   Newt nimbly dove to the side as a large paw came raking through the dirt. A growl and snarl met his movements as he threw himself through the dirt and jumped to his feet, his wand flying out of his sweaty hands.
   The roars of the beast's heads sent Pickett scrambling up Newt's jacket and into his hair in an attempt to hide. Eyes darting to her friend's wand discarded in the dirt, Newt's companion, (Y/n), bravely called out in order to get the beasts attention, drawing it's focus from the man who reached up to sloppily relocate a certain small, green creature from his hair.
   "C'mere!" Loudly She yelled, stealing it's attention. Her eyes widened as three snarling heads spun in her direction, the canine's hackles straight up in the air as it whipped towards her.
   "(Y/n)-" Newt cried. "Don't! He's already startled- anymore loud noises-"
   "Then why are you yelling at me?" She objected, throwing herself into a clumsy roll over the ground in order to avoid a very large paw that tried to practically smack her straight out of existence. With a huff, she spit out the dirt she had gotten in her mouth before her eyes darted up just as the beast made a leap to pounce on her.
   "Newt-!" She found herself screeching, barely managing to roll to the side and scramble to her feet. Newt barely managed to shove Pickett safely into his pocket before clambering over to his wand. He scooped it up with a lazy hand before (Y/n) darted towards him.
   The beast was hot on her heels, however, as (Y/n) bowled down Newt, they both yelled as the three headed dog's jaws snapped at their feet.
   Quickly struggling to their feet, the two glanced at each other before turning their gazes to the creature. Both their eyes widened, before (Y/n) burst into action. The beast rushed towards them, paws flying and an angry glare in its eyes, lashing it's paws out and sending slobber everywhere.
   Reacting quickly, (Y/n) began to shove Newt out of the way, trying to move both herself and the man from the giant dog's path before teeth connected with her shoulder. Newt watched as a screech left her lips as the dog threw her across the room. A sickening crunch caused the man to reel back and a wince to cross his face as his companion slammed into a nearby tree. Her body tumbled to the ground, limp as she laid curled in the dirt, unconsciously curled around her new, raw injuries.
   The cracks of her body replied in his mind for just a moment, before Newt drew in a sharp breath. He watched his beast wheel around to face him. The dog's heads lowered threateningly as it snapped it's jaws at him, blood mixed into the drool dripping from beneath the middle head's tongue. The canine's hackles were so stiff in the air they seemed to tremble at the effort.
   Eyes still darting to the precious girl on the floor, he muttered, "That's it." Lifting his wand, he had a hard glare in his eye. He understood this animal had been abused- the scars running down it's side proved it- but the way it lashed out and attacked was reason enough to put it under a sleep like trance.
   "Immobulus!" Newt shouted, and before he could even blink the animal slowly crumpled to the ground, automatically filling the case with the rumble of it's snores. And yet, the earth-shaking breaths still seemed quiet compared to the loud growls from before.
   Without a second thought, Newt rushed to (Y/n)'s side. A worried breath left his lips as he looked down at her. Kneeling beside her frame, he took in all the blood that was slowly seeping from the obvious, ragged teeth marks that had torn through her shirt.
   Deciding he needed to act fast, he swore under his breath followed by a quick apology to the girl. Sticking his wand deep inside one of the wounds, he muttered a healing spell.
   "Altum sanitatum," He repeated over and over again, each time having to plunge his poor, bloody tipped wand into a new tear in (Y/n)'s flesh and slowly dragging it across the raw, open muscle there.
   (Y/n) began to rouse, whimpering as her hand reached out to grasp at seemingly anything in reach. Gently, Newt laid a hand on her forehead, shushing her as he finished up. He ignored when her weak hand gently grasped at his pants, only finishing his work as quickly as possible. Then, he awkwardly wiggled his arms under her form, before lifting her into the air with a slight struggle, seeing as he was still sitting by the time he had gathered her into his arms.
   Quickly, Newt rushed back to his cabin, unknowingly drawing the attention of a worried demiguise who trailed behind. Kicking open the door, Newt hurried to haphazardly fling everything off his desk with his elbows. Then, slowly and carefully, he laid the girl in his arms on the desk. Cradling her head in the nook of his arm, his hand fluttered down to the new scars on her exposed shoulder.
   Gulping, the quiet man shuffled back on his feet, eyes glancing over the bloody, torn fabric. Just in that moment, he noticed Pickett had at some point clambered clumsily out of his pocket. The silly little creature was grasping at (Y/n)'s chin- apparently trying to wake her.
   Newt decided to leave Pickett with the girl- knowing she would find it a comfort when she woke- and softly leaned back against the table behind him. Without a word, he watched over her as he waited for her to wake. Dougal joined him, wide golden eyes latched onto the girl as he curled up into Newt's side.
   The minute her eyes fluttered open, Newt rushed forward. He had to stop himself, remind himself that she was just injured- he needed to be careful with her.
   "(Y/n)?" His voice gently called. Slowly, her eyes drifted over to him, before being dragged to the tiny creature that hopped up and down on her chest, fighting with Newt for her attention.
   Quietly clearing his throat, Newt once again tried to earn her focus, "(Y/n)."
   Finally, her eyes connected with his. Newt fought the urge to look away, hide his eyes, reminding himself that at the moment she was his patient.
   "Newt?" Her voice was groggy, confused. "My side-"
   "What about your side?" Cautiousness thrown to the wind and long forgotten, the man practically jumped on her. His hand connected with her shirt, and without really thinking about it he tugged it up. Sickly yellow and purple marks were beginning to appear on her skin. Thick, blue veins crawled through the mess of colour and disappeared past the marks. All around leading to under her, her skin was an angry, agitated red.
   "Newt," (Y/n) complained, shoving her shirt back down.
   Stuttering even in his mind, Newt licked his lips before explaining, "I'm- I'm sorry, (Y/n), but I think you may have some broken ribs. I don't quite know- Well, I do- but I don't- I know a spell but I've never used it before-"
   Dougal's hand gripped onto the back of Newt's pants leg. The poor man nearly jumped out of his skin, glancing down to the small animal who looked up at him with a disapproving stare. Taking a moment to calm himself, Newt's eyes flickered nervously back to the girl in front of him. Unfortunately, Newt took note of the fact that (Y/n) was being extremely patient with him. She was in pain, and yet she was so used to his rambling awkwardness that her careful, steady (e/c) eyes encouraged him as her lips turned up in a patient smile. Honestly, it just made him more nervous.
   Swallowing his ridiculous fears, Newt muttered, "I can try the spell if you want me to."
   "What is it?" (Y/n) asked, shuffling uncomfortably, hand moving to gently brush at her bruised side.
   "Ferula. It wouldn't do much-" Newt suddenly rushed out, huffing before trying to slow himself down. "But it will support the broken bones, and I believe ease any pain you might have-"
   "Do it," (Y/n) suddenly encouraged him, hand moving to latch onto one of his.
   Astounded, Newt gulped slightly, eyes shifting slightly before he asked, "That quickly?"
   "Yes," Once again, (Y/n) jumped on her reply. Licking his lips, Newt took a couple shuffling steps back. (Y/n) released his hand, letting her arm hang off the table in an attempt to keep it out of the way. With another gulp, Newt pulled out his wand, and hovered it over the bruises.
   "Ferula," He tried his best to enunciate, not wanting to mess up the spell. The minute a relieved sigh flew from (Y/n)'s lips, he felt his entire body relax. Shoulders slumping forward, he lowered his wand.
   "You're still going to have to take it easy," He stated the exact minute it came to mind. "Especially after the scare you gave me. I was so scared I don't think I even realised I was scared."
   "That didn't make sense," (Y/n) replied with a snort, slowly easing herself into a sitting position, scooping Pickett into one of her hands and gently resting him on her shoulder.
   "Maybe it wasn't supposed to," Newt sassed, tucking his wand away carefully. A sudden confidence brought about by worry urged through him, and gingerly Newt reached forward. His hand rested underneath (Y/n)'s chin, and he raised her face to look him straight in the eye. Confused yet intrigued, (Y/n) locked eyes with him.
   "I want you to be more careful from now on," A protective edge fell upon his voice, his beautiful eyes flickering between her own. "I'm serious. Sometimes we both forget- these animals can be dangerous. Just like us, when they're scared they lash out. We both need to be more careful."
   Letting out a soft breath of air, (Y/n) nodded, "I don't think you really needed to tell me that. I think the broken ribs were lesson enough."
   Rolling his eyes, Newt's gaze flickered down to Dougal, who still had one of his hands clamped around Newt's pants. A warm, fond light shimmered in his eyes as he glanced back up to (Y/n). Her joking, tired smile brought a grin of his own to his lips. Hesitantly, he let his hands carefully grasp hers. He watched happily as the smile on her face grew, a giggle escaping her chest.
   "It's the thought that counts," He declared quietly, a soft blush taking over his cheeks.
(A.N.- I hope you enjoyed.)
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generallynerdy · 6 years ago
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After Hello (Newt Scamander X Reader Soulmate AU)
Summary: You have the word ‘Hello’ written on your wrist, which is rather problematic, as you can imagine. Newt’s words, on the other hand, are ‘That’s it. I don’t care what’s written on your wrist, I pick you.’
Key: (W/S) - wizarding school of your choice, (Y/N) - your name
Warnings: cursing probably, Newt is too pure and good, fluff
Word Count: 921
Note: requests? What are those? Two days late but here’s the Newt one-shot I promised and bonus points it’s a soulmate au
    You didn’t want to discuss Soulmate marks. By the time you were 11 years old and being shipped off to (W/S), you were already sick of yours. Most everyone had something unique and sweet on their wrist; the first words their Soulmate would ever say to them. Everyone yearned for the day they would hear those magical words, the ones that would complete their life. You, on the other hand, had heard them nearly every single day of your life.
    See, the word written on your wrist was ‘Hello’. ‘Hello’. That was it. Your Soulmate was one basic son of a bitch, though you didn’t blame them for their greeting. They would have no idea it was you, their Soulmate, that they were meeting, not until after the fact. You were, however, annoyed at how many people had the possibility of being your Soulmate.
    Starting at 16 years old, you finally started saying the most ridiculous thing you could come up with and checking their wrist immediately. A certain situation you remember well happened just after you hit adulthood.
Another suitor approached you and said the magic words, so you checked his wrist. On it was written ‘I’m so sorry about your dog- I didn’t see him’.
“Good luck with that one, buddy,” You had laughed.
He only sighed, “I don’t even have a dog.”
Years after you graduated from (W/S), you had the pleasure of meeting Tina and Queenie Goldstein. In your travels of America in search of illegally trafficked creatures whom you intended to save before MACUSA could get their hands on them, the sisters befriended you, despite your somewhat illegal activities. Tina didn’t like it at first, but it was clear she couldn’t stop you.
Since then, you were so wrapped up in work that you didn’t meet as many people, thus you didn’t hear the words ‘Hello’ as often.
Until one fateful day.
You were working on locating a breeder of Thunderbirds when a desperate knock sounded from your apartment door. You sighed and got to your feet, opening the door reluctantly. The second you saw Tina on your doorstep, though, you snapped into action.
“Tina, what happened?”
She filed into the apartment, her sister and two unfamiliar men following her. The former Auror sighed, “We have a big problem.”
“Like super-dangerous-somebody-could-die problem?” You questioned quietly with raised eyebrows, eyeing the men beside her suspiciously.
That was when you locked eyes with the taller one. Merlin’s beard, he was gorgeous. His curls sat perfectly atop his head and, though he looked away instantly, you nearly fell over getting lost in his eyes. They were so bright and kind and curious and- who was he? You’d never been attracted to someone like this before and some part of you questioned if he might be your Soulmate. Then again, it was likely wishful thinking.
“Yeah, that kind of problem,” Tina interrupted your thoughts.
You stuttered, “And, uh, who are these guys?”
“Oh!” Queenie brightened instantly and pushed the two men forward. She gestured to the shorter one with dark hair, “This is Jacob- he’s a no-maj.”
“Hi,” Jacob greeted shyly.
“No-maj?” You gaped, “You guys are so in for it.”
The younger of the Goldstein sisters ignored your comment and looked to the other man, almost shoving him into you. He glanced away, face red as he gripped his suitcase tightly. “And this is Newt Scamander. Say hi, sweetie, (Y/N) don’t bite.”
“Er,” Newt finally managed to meet your eye, “Hello.”
And with that single word, that one that had haunted you for the entirety of your life, your world view changed. You no longer hated the word ‘hello’. In fact, it was a damn blessing. You wanted to hear him say it again, to have it be directed at you. Actually, to hear him talk even once more would end you right then and there.
“That’s it,” You whispered in awe, “I don’t care what’s written on your wrist, I pick you.”
Newt let out the tiniest gasp, which made your heart leap out of your chest. Could it be that he recognised your words?
Before you could even ask, he was moving toward you and lifting his right coat sleeve. He quickly abandoned his task when you lifted your wrist and his hands moved instead to your arm, gently moving the sleeve up. In neat black ink, the word ‘Hello’ painted your skin. On his, the words ‘That’s it. I don’t care what’s written on your wrist, I pick you’ were written.
Newt looked to you with a slack jaw, exhaling sharply in his awe. He then suddenly seemed to realise the close proximity and cleared his throat, “Sor- sorry, I-”
“Don’t be, Mr Scamander,” you said shyly, but with a grin gracing your expression.
“Newt,” he corrected, finally meeting your gaze again. “Just Newt.”
“(Y/N).”
From the peanut gallery, Queenie cooed, “You two are perfect for each other!”
At the attention, both you and your Soulmate stuttered awkwardly.
Luckily, Newt was quick to change the subject. “If we weren’t in the midst of a disaster I would ask you to dinner…”
“I’d like that,” you reassured, “Maybe after?”
Newt smiled brighter than you thought possible, an expression which shook you to your very core. How could a fully grown man be so pure and sweet? And why did you already love him so much?
And with a single word, one that reminded you of the one written on your wrist, he made an eternal promise to you.
“After.”
Masterlist
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thehalfbloodedwitch · 2 years ago
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Hi! Could I request headcanons or imagine about being best friends with Newt Scamander and sharing the same living place? Gn reader if possible! Thank you!
Being Best friends to lovers with Newt Scamander (N.s x reader)
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Pairing- Newt x Genderneutralreader
Summary- The reader and Newt live together in a cottage in the countryside where they fall in love with each other.
A/n- Thank you so much anon for this wonderful request! I am in love with this concept and with Newt it is even better! I have altered it a bit and made it best friends to lovers, I really hope you like it!
Words- 888 words
Newt Scamander Masterlist Main Masterlist
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You and Newt have been close since your days at Hogwarts, and you were both sorted to the Hufflepuff house.
When he was with you, Newt was the sweetest. He always cracked jokes to lighten the mood and showed you his creatures, which you played with.
He was more than welcome to share a place with you after you graduated from Hogwarts.
Because to your mutual love of nature and wish to live outside of the city, you both agreed to purchase a cottage close to the countryside.
While you opened a grocery store in the countryside that was embellished with hanging potted plants, lights, and creepers, Newt began collecting magical creatures and keeping them in his suitcase with the help of Bunty.
You both earned decent incomes, enough to satisfy your respective needs for food, clothing, and other essentials.
Both your friends and Newt's friends came over occasionally, and sometimes they even stayed with the two of you for a few days, saying how much they enjoyed the atmosphere you had both created.
The kitchen, living room, and dining room were located in the basement of the two-story home that you and Newt shared. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms: one for you, one for Newt, and one for guests.
Each room had its own balcony, which was covered in tiny creepers and plants that contained tiny bowtruckles.
Every Sunday, you two would have movie nights where one of you would choose the film to watch and the other would get the food, pillows, blankets, etc.
Sometimes, Newt would make plans to go stargazing in the nearby hills, where he would point out funny patterns the stars created that made you chuckle.
Everything was going smoothly until one day when you were cleaning the kitchen counter where you accidentally slipped and Newt, just in time caught you, before you fell.
Both of you halted briefly with his hand on your waist and your hands on his shoulders.
His breathtaking eyes were so captivating that you briefly lost yourself in them as you gazed into his hazel eyes, those lovely eyes that you had never paid much attention to.
From that point on, you couldn't help but blush and turn your gaze away whenever Newt came close to you.
When he made eye contact with you and spoke, you felt strange butterflies and couldn't help but picture what it would be like to run your hand through his soft brunette hair.
When people entered the shop you worked in, Newt would always to stare at you, admiring how quickly you worked and how attractive you were, whenever you would turn to look at him, he would shyly avert his gaze somewhere else as if he wasn’t staring at you at all.
He also began acting extremely strangely around you, he would not talk to you as much as he did before and he would not ask you for any help in the household chores.
Your smile, beauty, character, sense of style, and presence drew him over. Everything about you was perfect in his eyes.
One day when you both were watching a movie, you fell asleep on his shoulder and Newt couldn’t help but get butterflies as you slept peacefully on his shoulder.
He then wrapped the both of you in a blanket and slept on the couch with you.
You chuckled when you opened your eyes and noticed that Newt was sound asleep with his mouth slightly open.
His friends insisted him to ask you out on a date but he was too shy to even bring up the topic.
One day, you couldn’t watch your tongue as you said, “Newt, we’ve been friends for so long, and I-I want this friendship to be more than- more than what it is right now, would you-you go on a date with me?” to which Newt wide eyed said, “I-I, Yes!”
The two of you were on a date at a nearby restaurant, whose owner allowed you to stay there as long as you liked.
You both talked about how you both liked each other and how naïve you both were about it.
After a few dates, you two decided to start dating, which was the best thing you've ever done.
Newt is the sweetest and perfect guy you could have ever asked for.
In order to make your day as happy as possible, he would attempt to help you in any way he could.
He would take care of all the household chores while you rested whenever you had your periods.
He would even massage your back when it would hurt a lot and would also make potions for reducing the pain.
If someone asked Newt to describe what it's like to be your boyfriend, he'd say, "It's the best feeling in the world, being their boyfriend is like a blessing. Y/n is the most caring and loving person I've ever met, and I'd love them until the day I die," he says, blushing at the thought of you.
Overall, you both are such a cute couple and belong to one another, body, soul and mind.
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Tags- @blackthunder137 @miss-celestial-being @pottahishotasf @dracoslittlesunflower @lazydreamer19 @eichenhouseproperty @raajali3 @tsukibaby1 @welcome-to-writers-haven @collieflower215 @annasdani @o-rion-sta-r @soggyjenkins @staygoldsquatchling02 @e-m-christina
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puppy-coded · 2 years ago
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Friday Progress Reveal{10/28/22}
𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝: 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 modern!newt x autistic!reader
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So this fic is based of off something my mom had said to me. I was stimming and she started making fun of it, exaggerating my movements and such. I tried removing myself from that situation and she said "No come back! I want to talk to you!" then kept making fun of me for my stimming. I am writing this fic for everyone who has experienced something similar from a loved one and everyone who has wanted at least some validation or assurance that they're not weird.
Whatever you believe, you are not a mistake for your neurodivergence and I want everyone to know that I love them.
That got deeply personal, I'm sorry.
My favorite line of dialogue in this fic, so far, is "I understand my love. Whatever decision you make I'll be there with you." Newt tells reader this when reader is doubting themselves over a decision and this has to be the most comforting line I have ever written in all my 50 fics.
I am almost done with dialogue and I am getting there. It should be out either Monday or Tuesday and I hope everyone likes it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦: The Friday Progress Reveals are now included in my taglist and I also encourage everyone who wants to read this fic to fill it out so you can be tagged in all my Newt stuff!
𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐕𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦: I am now opening votes for next week and they will be closing on Wednesday night at 21:00 cst. I definitely encourage everyone to participate but, of course, you don't have to if you don't want to.
✰ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @creelhousesteve @tigergirllolipop @lgwifey
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newtsoccamy · 3 years ago
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Hey! Does anyone knows a Newt Scamander x reader fic where they are friends and work together caring for Newt's beast but are in love with each other, the creatures try to help get them together but they fail, and Dougal the demiguise is really close to reader but after she goes in a date with other man he doesn't want to go with her anymore, so she is sad and then she realizes that she is actually in love with Newt so she goes to see that other guy she had the date with to tell him she is in love with someone else, when she returns to the case she talks with Newt, they get together and then there is some smut, I know a reblog it when I first read it but now I can't find it, pleeeeease help
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vanyatas · 3 years ago
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when Jacob is in the fic >>
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blackthunder137 · 3 years ago
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🎧Champagne Problems- Give me a scenario and I'll make a playlist for it. For example- Life of Draco Malfoy (this can be fandom related or a character related to any fandoms that I've mentioned) with a short story.
Okayy soo, Newt Scamander and me playing around in the wilderness, taking care of the beasts, like nature related stuff.
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Taking care of the beasts with Newt Scammader
a/n- I am proud of myself for making this beautiful playlist for my Newt. I really need to make a fic with Newt Scammader. I hope you like it!
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Newt had decided to take care of the beasts on his own because he didn't want his beasts to bother you. You, being you, expressed an interest in accompanying him and caring for his beasts because you adored them as much as Newt and wanted to spend some time with him. As a result, you two walked inside his suitcase and opened the door to reveal the animals, which you fed one by one, sometimes failing to do so, which made Newt smile a little. Regardless, he aided you. After feeding all of the animals, you played a game with our famous Niffler in which you threw some dazzling jewellery items at the Niffler, who became thrilled and chased after them and while you were playing with the Niffler, Newt was admiring you from afar. How could he manage to get such a beauty? What did he do to deserve you? You and Newt, together with Pickett, watched the sunset after playing with the Niffler for a bit. Though Newt's eyes were on you, you had to convince him that the view was in the front. You two laid down after watching the sunset and gazed at the stars. You two are laughing and talking while staring at the stars. You two exchanged loving glances and leaned in for a kiss. Under the starry sky, it was a short, lovely, yet passionate kiss. You were grateful to have such a wonderful and caring boyfriend. Oh, how you wish you could spend the rest of your life with him. You two were completely and utterly in love with each other. 
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May's music therapy 🎶
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iridecsense · 4 years ago
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𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 - 𝘮.
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⤷ summary: “You’re blue, I'm red, I wanna kiss your neck and make you purple all over.”
ꕥ word count: 33.7k ꕥ pairing: credence barebone | fem!reader  ꕥ genre: fluff, angst, smut ꕥ rating: 18+ ꕥ warnings: mentions of physical and religious abuse, mild violence and angst ꕥ kinks: femdom, masturbation ꕥ author’s note:  Credence’s first time requested by anonymous. Experimenting a new writing style with this one, I hope you still like it! This is very soft, but also sinful. I always suggest using Interactive Fics extension on Google Chrome and Firefox when reading my fics. Enjoy. ;) ꕥ key: (y/n) - first name (l/n) - last name (e/c) - eye color (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color
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There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive. Humans aren’t as complex as they like to think. Humans are simple. Without realizing, it they put themselves into a routine. Eat, work, sleep, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat.
Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” And yet, most humans never fall into insanity. How is it humanity survives such a dreary existence? The answer itself is simple. It is because despite living simple, tedious, monotonous lives, they still have those few moments.
Credence wanted nothing more than to experience one of these moments. Life for Credence was human. It repeated on an infinite loop, no matter how much he prayed for it to stop. Unlike most people’s lives, Credence’s routine wasn’t something to accept comfortably. There was no eat, sleep, work, repeat for him. His day started with an unsavory meal. It was usually porridge or stale bread. Then he would go out and hand out his “mother’s” flyers while she ranted in the streets. After that, they’d return to the orphanage where he’d surely get beat for doing something wrong. After being denied dinner, he would return to his room and cry silently in his bed, trying to dream of a life better than the one he lived. Then repeat.
Today was supposed to be no different. Today, Credence would have to hand out flyers around Times Square until nightfall. He hated handing out flyers in Times Square. It was bright, loud, and crowded, and the rich people from The Eggs always came down to shop and attend the cinema.
Rich people are assholes.
For the most part, Credence was invisible amidst the hustle and bustle of the square. People were too busy chatting amongst themselves or rushing to the nearest store or restaurant to even bat an eye at him. He didn’t mind it. He welcomed invisibility with open arms. Being seen usually ended with new bruises and scars. That's what happens when you’re an outsider, and Credence was an outsider in every sense of the word. He was an outsider to the rich people that pushed past him on the sidewalk, an outsider to the orphanage, and an outsider to himself. 
So, the lowly outsider stood hunched over in the middle of the sidewalk next to a cinema. Above him was a large marquee lit up by five hundred flashing bulbous lights. Mobs of people dappered up in evening dresses and suits, tipping their fedoras and clutching their mink coats excitedly entered the theatre. Credence looked at the flyers in his hands. Mary Lou gave him three hundred flyers to give out, and he barely gave out thirty. Most of the ones he did manage to force into someone’s hand ended up on the ground not ten feet away from him. They couldn't even bother to find a trash can. He wouldn’t dare return home with such a disappointing turnout.
The sun had long since set. The roar of the night became corrupted with wealthy party-goers. The Square was alive with chatter and street music. The streets were filled with intoxicated drivers flashing their fancy topless automobiles and the pretty women that shouted inside them. It was rather scenic, and Credence often found himself staring longingly at all the people whose lives seemed much happier than his own. It was one of the few ways he could pass the time.
He would watch couples walk the street hand in hand, seemingly in love. The woman would occasionally point out something on display she fancied and sweetly coherence her partner to buy it for her—to which they always did. He would observe a gang of college gentlemen around his age hop from bar to bar, obnoxiously laughing and roughhousing in the streets, cat-calling passing dames. In his mind, he was one of them. He pretended he lived in a world where he wasn’t an orphan and grew up in a wealthy family. He would have a mother who loved him and a father who was proud of him. He would go to college and make friends with other boys. Maybe he’d fall in love with a girl along the way. Someone sweet to please the folks back home. Then it would be him parading down the streets with a pretty girl around his arms in Times Square, and some other poor guy would be miserable in his place.
As his eyes wandered the streets, watching the snippets of other people's lives and inserting himself in them, his eyes landed on her across the street. She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a boutique. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, neatly placed under a velvet green beret. She had on a slim fitting wool coat with mink trim over a lace-covered silk dress that shined in the night’s light. When she began to walk, his eyes followed her down the street like magnets. The way she seemed to carry herself was unlike the others around her. She wasn’t pink with liquor, stumbling in her heels on the pavement. Each step she took was one of elegance and confidence. He couldn't look away.
“Hey, watch it, punk!”
Credence found himself shoved to his hands and knees on the ground, the flyers in his hands dispersing in the air around him. He winced in pain and looked up to see a man angrily peering down at him.
“Watch where you’re goin’, freak!” The man cursed at him.
Credence kept his head down. “I’m sorry, sir.”
The man sucked his teeth and purposely stepped on some flyers in front of him as he walked by, pressing them into the wet sidewalk. Only when he was sure the man had gone did he find it safe to move. He ignored the soreness in the palms of his hands and tried his best to salvage as many flyers as he could. Passersby couldn't have cared less about the papers they ripped and crumpled under their perfectly pointed shoes. He picked up what little there was left unscathed—about a hundred at least. He was lucky most of them were still stacked together. He went to collect the last salvageable stack across from him when another pair of (s/c) dainty hands reached for them.
Credence’s eyes landed on a pair of green pumps pointed at him. His eyes trailed up past long legs shielded from the cold by nude stockings, green silk, and tawny fur until they met painted red lips and glossy (e/c) eyes. Up close, she was much more captivating. He could now make out her soft, round features and see how her (h/c) curls perfectly framed her face. Her cheeks were dusted a lush red. Whether it was from the early winter chill, or a detail of her makeup was unknown. Either way, she was stunning. It took him longer than it should have for him to notice the flyers she was holding out for him to take.
Credence awkwardly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on the tips of her shoes to avoid her gaze. Even in his slouched state, he towered over her, but somehow he still appeared small.
“I saw that.” Her warm voice filled his ears, catching him off guard.
He lifted his head to look at her once more. “What?”
The girl looked in the direction the man from earlier had left and frowned.  “The prick who knocked you over was half-seas over! He could barely tell his left foot from his right! If he had, he would have seen that it was his fault knocking you to the ground like that.”
Credence didn’t know what to say. That was the most anyone had ever said to him without spewing insults his way. Even more peculiar was that the strange girl talking to him was trying to defend him. His awkward speechlessness didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. Instead, her targeted vexed expression relaxed into a warm smile.
She urged the flyers towards him once more. “Sorry about your papers. I don’t think there’s much left to save.”
He carefully took the papers from her hands, noting how perfectly manicured her nails were. “It’s okay... thank you.”
“No need to thank me. No sense in being praised for common decency, right?”
Credence found himself speechless. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. It was definitely something he should be grateful for. Most people wouldn’t look twice at him struggling on the street, let alone go out of their way to help.
The girl spoke through his silence. “You don’t talk much, do you?” She chuckled.
He shamefully bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she quickly assured him. “Sometimes, I think people talk too much. I don’t think people should say things they don’t need to, otherwise, words lose all valuable meaning. You know what I mean?”
He nodded slowly. “I think so.”
She seemed pleased with his answer, her smile growing ever so slightly. It wasn’t long before it was replaced with another frown. Unlike before, this wasn’t a frown of annoyance, but concern. Her brows turned upward and her red lips parted to let out a sharp gasp. She looked at him clearly for the first time, her eyes wandered over his slender form and taking in his appearance.
“Goodness! Aren’t you cold?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.
Credence shrugged half-heartedly. He was used to the cold by now. He only had a handful of clothes to begin with. He didn't have the luxury of having clothes that match the changing weather, he could only wear whatever clothes fit him from the donation pile. The warmest garment he obtained this winter was an old navy blue suit best designed for autumn’s chill, but useless against winter’s cold. She found it hard to believe he stayed in the cold for so long without freezing to death. Credence thought that was a bit of an exaggeration. It was a particularly cold November night, enough to keep the patches of ice and snow that had been shoveled to the gutters intact. With every shaky breath he took, a puff of white mist would follow. His nose and the tips of his ears were permanently colored red and, given his natural pale complexion, made him look rather sickly. But, he bore through it because he had experienced far worse.
Without warning, the girl took the liberty of placing her palms on the back of his hands. The gentle action was so alien, he flinched when he felt her warm skin.
“Your hands are like ice!” She gasped. “They’re two degrees short from falling off!”
It must have been true because the feeling of her hands was enough to send a fiery warmth throughout his body. Such affection was so foreign to him, he began to doubt it really happened. It wouldn't have been the first time his mind played tricks on him. Perhaps he was home in his bed, lucidly dreaming about a chance encounter with a pretty woman. In a moment, he would wake up, and the warm feeling of a woman’s touch would turn cold, and he’d find himself alone in his room again.
His theory was swiftly disproven when he felt her hands gently squeeze his. As if she had the brightest idea of the decade, the woman’s face lit up.
She took a step closer. “Say, why don’t I get you some tea to warm you up? There’s a coffee shop still open a few blocks away—I could drive you in my Ford!”
Credence blushed and swallowed. His eyes darted around nervously. “I’m not sure I should...” He mumbled.
“We can stand here in the streets like a couple of gulls if you’d like, but I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze, so you might as well say yes,” she smirked.
He wanted to say yes. But there was a voice inside him that warned him not to go. It was the same nagging tone Mary Lou barked in his ear. His mind spiraled, spewing scenarios of his adopted mother’s fury. He should be home by now. She never liked it when he returned home late. She would beat him again. She might even ice him—something she did when she was truly furious with him. The thought of it made his blood run cold.
“I-I can’t,” he stammered. “M-Mother is expecting me home—she’ll be wondering where I am.”
The woman’s once playful expression slowly faded. Her brows gathered at the center of her forehead and her smile faded. Credence was trembling and stuttering, helplessly trying to explain why he had to return home. His words slurred together into a tremulous speech. Passing pedestrians gave patronizing stares, actively avoiding the pair and whispering amongst themselves. The woman placed a comforting hand on Credence’s shoulder, silencing him almost immediately.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” She said softly. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to upset you by it.”
She looked him in his eyes and offered a kind smile. There was a skip of his heart. A strange feeling weighed in his chest he had never felt before.
“Why don’t I drive you?” She suggested. “That way you can be home twice as fast!”
Credence took a moment to think about it. He found it increasingly impossible to say no. Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to extend their encounter, if even just for a minute. He had the smallest inference that if he said no, it would disappoint her. The thought of disappointing her was something he didn't want to do. He felt obligated to appease her. She had shown him a kindness that he may never get again. He thought he could at least keep her pleased.
“Okay,” he relented.
The girl grinned up at him and linked her arm around his. His cheeks grew warm, and he tucked his chin to his chest to hide his blush. Not that she would notice either way. She gingerly led him down the street, trying to engage him with small talk. He tried to listen, but he would get distracted whenever he felt her chest brush up against him. She was so close and so warm. Her touch burned through the thin material of his jacket and made his skin tingle. He could smell her perfume, like lavender and vanilla.
Such an alluring scent it was. It smelled familiar and sweet in its flowery nature. It reminded him of the transition from spring to summer, when the flowers became the most vibrant and fruit ripened to perfect sweetness. He wished he could smell it every day. It would be a refreshing change from the stench of mildew and boiled cabbage he often smelled. He wondered if she always smelled so sweet.
“So, what’s with the pamphlets? Are you a part of that Second Salemers organization?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasies. He looked down at her and saw her looking up at him expectedly. He couldn’t help but grow hot with embarrassment.
“Y-yes,” he answered.
“Really? So, you believe in witches?” She teasingly wiggled her fingers in his face.
"My mother does,” He answered.
“How interesting,” she thought aloud. “I can’t say that I believe in witches, but if they do exist I wouldn’t mind.”
“You wouldn’t?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, they’re human like us, right? People tend to demonize things they don’t understand. Just because they’re different doesn't mean we have to fear or prosecute them. I think we should embrace each other’s differences and learn to appreciate them, rather than forcing everyone to assimilate to one idea of normalcy. If we do that, then no one would be unique. We’d all be the same.”
He listened closely as she spoke. He was absolutely fascinated by her. It was rather profound, the way she thought. Most people would disagree with her sentiments, especially his mother. The world Credence knew was built on a system of separation. A system that separated classes, races, sexes, and the able-bodied—a system he was a victim to. Never once had he met someone who desired to rid of it just as much as he did, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear such scrutiny from someone who seemed to benefit from it.
When she finished her societal criticism, she stopped in her tracks and craned her neck up to face Credence.
“Excuse my rambling,” she flushed. “I talk nonsense when I go deep in thought. Don’t mind me, I probably sound crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Credence spoke up. “I wish everyone thought the way you think.”
Their eyes locked in a moment of tenderness. His bold sentiments were enough to make her heart skip a beat; unbeknownst to him. Their intimate trance was broken when a passing car flashed its blinding lights in their eyes, causing the girl to release her grip around Credence’s arm. The loss of contact made his arm feel too light; as if someone had taken a piece of his arm away.
The girl let out a sheepish chuckle. “Well, this is it,” she said as she walked over to the luxurious motor car parked on the side of the street. Luxurious seemed like an insult of a descriptor for the magnificent opulence of the machine. The streetlight illuminated the pearl-colored metal that matched the white-rimmed tires. Gold embellishments lined the rim. Tawny leather seats contrasted the exterior and matched the fabric roof. It was something Credence had only seen in advertisements.
“She’s a bit much, right?”
Credence hadn’t realized how apparent the astonishment written on his face was. He expected the girl to laugh at him, but the girl didn’t find joy in his culture shock. She was nervous, as if she were ashamed of her possession, like he had just discovered her most shameful secret.
“She was a gift from my father,” she felt the need to explain. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything, I truly am. It’s just that I would never have bought something so ritzy for myself.”
“I like it,” said Credence.
His words seemed to relax her otherwise tense demeanor. “I’m glad you do,” she smiled as she opened the door. He watched her slide into the driver's seat. He approached the machine cautiously, eyeing the foreign object skeptically. The girl watched him closely, an amused smirk curling her lips.
“You’ve never ridden in a car before, have you?” She asked. Credence shook his head.
“I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” she chuckled. “I happen to be an excellent driver. My father wouldn’t have given me one so expensive if I wasn’t.”
This was true. Such a beautiful car wouldn’t be gifted to someone who would evidently wreck it. The girl pats the empty passenger seat invitingly, urging him to get inside.
Credence slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather seeping through the thin fabric of his suit, sending shivers down his spine.
“Here.” The girl reached in the back seat of the car and pulled out a large grey blanket. “The car will get warmer as we drive, but this should be good for now.”
Credence placed his papers on his lap and reached for the blanket.
“Wait,” she stopped him, a small frown appearing on her features. “You’re bleeding.”
Credence followed her stare to his left hand. He turned his palm upward to find the healing wounds on his palms had reopened. He didn’t notice the sting of the cuts before, but now his hand burned with the slightest movement. He couldn’t help but feel exposed. He hated his hands. They were ugly. Permanently blemished with raised scars that formed from healing and reopening and healing and reopening at contact with his mother's belt. It was unsightly. He shied away from her, mortified. She must’ve found them just as repulsive.
But the girl didn’t seem phased by his calloused and scarred hands at all. She didn’t hesitate to reach inside her breast pocket and pull out a pink handkerchief to wrap around Credence’s hand. Again he could feel her warmth. Her soft hands caressed his skin, pulling him closer. She handled him gently, delicately folding and wrapping the silk fabric around his cuts. She glanced at him as she did so, only to find him avoiding her gaze with his chin tucked into his shoulder.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered as she tended to him.
“You’re sorry?” She let out a breathy chuckle. “And what are you sorry for, exactly?”
“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “For making you drive me home. For ruining your handkerchief,” he said.
The girl sighed as she tightened the cloth around his hand and tied it into a bow to keep it in place. “Bunny, you’re not making me do anything. I insisted, remember?” She reminded him. Credence felt the entirety of his face grow hot. He turned to face her again, only to be met with the same (e/c) eyes and kind smile she had before. His heart felt as though it were beating a mile a minute.
“And don’t worry about my handkerchief,” she adds. “I have dozens of them. They’re more for looks anyway, I never use them.”
Credence nodded and silently thanked her. She gave his hand another squeeze before leaning back in her seat and starting the car. The car made a sound like a lion and roared to life. The seats trembled beneath them, and the headlights lit the road ahead. When the car jerked into drive, Credence felt uneasy. She drove the car well, and he suspected that she was driving at a slower rate for his benefit, but the feeling of the car moving made his stomach churn with excitement and fear. He walked everywhere he went. He’d taken the subway once before when he was younger, but somehow this was different. He fidgeted in his seat, finding anything to distract himself from the tight feeling in his stomach. His eyes fixated on his hands, brushing his fingers against the smooth fabric of the handkerchief. It was colorfully embroidered with flowers and lacey patterns. He followed the design with his eyes until they came upon two scripted letters embroidered in gold on the corner that wasn’t tied into a knot.
“Are these your initials?” He asked to distract himself with small talk.
The girl gasped dramatically. “I never introduced myself, did I? How rude of me! I’m practically a stranger and here I am driving you around Manhattan without giving you a proper introduction.”
The girl took one hand off the wheel and held it out in front of him. “My name’s (y/n) (l/n).”
Credence took her hand and shook it lightly. “I’m Credence. Credence Barebone.”
“Credence. What an odd name. I like it,” she grinned before pulling her hand back. “So, where am I taking you, Credence?”
He told her he lived in the old chapel on Pike Street. She fell flustered while trying to explain she didn’t know exactly where that was. Credence then told her she was going the right way, and if she kept going straight, he would tell her when to turn. While they drove, she did her best to get to know Credence. He answered every question she asked with a short and vague response. She didn’t ask him many questions to begin with. She mostly talked about herself or the people she knew, like her family and friends. Almost everything reminded her of them.
He figured she did it to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing her talk. While driving, she saw a dress in a boutique and mentioned that her friend, Darla, would love to have a dress just like it. When they passed a tea shop, it reminded of her mother, who only drank earl grey tea; which, to her, is the most boring of teas. On the sidewalk, there was a stray cat running into an alleyway. She told him how much she wanted a pet cat as a child, but she couldn’t get one because her father was allergic.
He couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. The more she talked, the more relaxed he became. He stole glances at her when she wasn’t looking. Watching her lips move as she talked, outlining the bridge of her nose and the curve of her cheek. He had been staring so intently he hadn’t even realized she’d asked him a question.
“Credence?” Her voice filled his ears.
“Yes?” He answered.
“I asked if I turn here.”
Credence turned to look out the window and saw that they had stopped at the corner of Pike Street. It was a quiet neighborhood filled with old apartments that had dim windows and unfriendly doors. Sticking out like a tabby cat among tigers was the Church of the Second Salemers. A rickety thing dwarfed by the buildings that surrounded it. Credence’s heart sank. If only the ride was a little longer.
“I can get out here,” he told her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
Her lips twitched into a bittersweet smile. “Alright,” she simpered. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
“It was nice meeting you too,” He said truthfully.
There was a beat of silence. The two sat awkwardly, not really knowing how to say goodbye. Credence stared at his hands in his lap and began to untie the handkerchief.
“Keep it,” she stopped him before he could. “To remember me by.”
Would this really be the last time? He knew that she meant nothing by it, but hoped he didn't have to remember her. He wanted to see her again. He didn’t want it to end.
He gripped the cloth tightly in his hand. “Thank you.”
He reluctantly opened the car door and stepped onto the slushy street, closing the door behind him. She waved at him through the window, to which he returned in a less enthusiastic manner. He took a step back onto the sidewalk and watched as she drove down the street until she disappeared around the corner.
“Goodbye... (y/n),” he whispered.
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It had been weeks since Credence’s chance encounter, and ever since his mind was consumed with thoughts and fantasies of (y/n) (l/n). Everything reminded him of her. The melting snow on the ground, the smell of flowers that mimicked her perfume when he passed the floristry, passing women in mink coats and tea shops; they all emulated her.
He often thought about how different things would have been if he did what he wanted that night. Would she be with him now had he gone to the café when she’d offered? Would she have liked to know him? Would she have enjoyed his company? The more he thought about it, the more he wished he’d taken the risk—his mother be damned.
Now all he had were memories and theories of what could have been. Though, fantasizing became his new favorite pass time. Reminiscing about her was one of the only things that gave light to his otherwise dark, mundane life. Like right now, he was thinking of what it would be like to make her laugh while scooping porridge into bowls for the orphans to eat.
He thought her laugh would sound feathery and jovial; the kind of laugh that makes you want to smile and laugh with her.
“You’re smiling.”
Credence was pulled from his thoughts by his sister, Chastity. He looked to the side and saw her smirking into the pot. “What?”
“It’s not just today,” she says. “You’ve been... different lately. Happier, I think. Always smiling to yourself. Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Did you meet someone or something?” She persisted.
Credence scoffed. “How could I have met someone?” He refuted.
Chastity she glimpsed at Credence skeptically. “I guess not,” she hummed, much to his relief.
“Doesn’t explain why you’re blushing, though,” she smirked.
Credence’s cheeks burst into flames as he attempted to sputter an explanation. Chastity giggled to herself, finding amusement in teasing him.
“What’s going on, children?”
The sickeningly sweet voice was enough to raise the hair on the back of their necks and shudder their hearts. They turned around, craning their necks up to the banister. Mary Lou Barebone towered over them just as menacingly as she could in her own prim and proper way.
“Nothing, mother,” Chastity answered for them. “Credence was just telling me a joke.”
“This is no time to be joking,” she scolded. “We have a very important meeting today with Father Blackwell, and I will not allow distractions. We can't lose focus. This is our chance to spread our message to the church— to the city! You should be preparing, not laughing.”
“I’m sorry, mother,” Credence apologized.
“Don’t let it happen again,” she warned, before sauntering away.
Even in her absence, Credence couldn’t find the will to relax the rest of the morning. The threat of her looming presence was far too great. After the orphans had finished their meal and left, Chastity washed all the dishes while he cleaned the dining hall. Once they finished their menial tasks, Modesty came downstairs to tell them Mary Lou wanted them to hurry and dress in their best attire for Father Blackwell.
Father Blackwell was the priest of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He was the most famous priest in New York City and the priest of the mayor. Mary Lou was very anxious to present her case to him. According to her, once Father Blackwell hears her pleas and shares it with the church, the city would finally begin to take her seriously and put a stop to the heresy festering right under their noses.
So she believed.
It was Sunday. Today they would attend a mid-day service and attempt to get counsel with the priest. Though, Credence doubted Father Blackwell would even see them. As he got dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror. His ‘best’ attire was a dark plum suit so dark it looked black if you weren't paying attention. It made his already pale skin look even fairer and darkened the color of his raven hair and russet eyes. It was the only suit that fit him perfectly and had few blemishes. He’d probably look like a proper gentleman if his mahogany shoes weren't so terribly worn due to them being the only pair he owned.  
He took the matching hat off his dresser and put it on. Hidden underneath it was the pink handkerchief. He took the piece of fabric in his hands and held it up to his nose. It smelled like her. Remnants of her perfume still lingered between its stitches. He was grateful she allowed him to keep her handkerchief. He felt foolish for ever trying to part with it. It was the only proof he had that she existed; that their brief night encounter had truly happened.
“What are you doing?”
Credence instinctively hid the cloth behind his back, turning around to see Mary Lou standing in his doorway.
“I was straightening my tie,” he says, his voice wavering slightly.
Mary Lou looked him over for a moment, trying to find something out of place. “Come now,” she orders, having found no reason to torment the boy. “We’re leaving.”
She walked away. The sound of her heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs was Credence’s signal to breathe again. He pulled the handkerchief from his back and folded it neatly before hiding it underneath his pillow.
On their way to the cathedral, Mary Lou gave each of them a stack of flyers. She wanted them to hand out flyers to the congregation once the service ended while she talked with Father Blackwell. If there was one thing about Mary Lou, she was passionate and determined. When she set her sights on something, she will do everything in her power to execute it. She’d been planning this meeting for weeks. She readied herself in the only way she knew how: through constant prayer and tedious preparation. In a way, Credence was thankful for it. When Mary Lou became enlightened on an alternative approach, she was far too busy focusing on it to bother him. It was one of the few windows of relative freedom he had, and they came once in a blue moon. This meeting could mark the end, or the beginning, of this liberation.
Sitting in the pews during service, he could hardly concentrate. St. Patrick’s was a magnificent building, an authentic replica of the renaissance with its high, arched ceiling, stone engravings, and vibrant stained glass windows. It was the epitome of class and beauty. So, naturally, it would be the one church favorited by the high society. Wealthy families filled the better half of the sanctuary. While Credence and his family sat in the back with the rest of the commoners, they filled the front pews with tailored suits, mink coats, and Sunday hats. As Father Blackwell preached to the congregation, Credence searched the pews for a familiar face.
He knew his chances of seeing her were low, but he couldn't help but hope one of those Sunday hats would turn around and reveal those sparkling (e/c) eyes. His leg shook nervously, his eyes darting from one aisle of pews to another. It only stopped when a firm hand tightly gripped his thigh.
“Pay attention,” Mary Lou whispered, malice laced in her tone.
Credence swallowed, his body tensing immediately, afraid of even moving an inch in her presence. He turned his attention from the pews to the altar. Father Blackwell was standing in front of his pedestal, reading a scripture.
“We are living in a godless time,” He said. “Satan parades in the streets, preying on our sons and daughters! When the night comes, our children leave and venture into the streets. The devil and his minions tell them to wear promiscuous evening attire, commit sodomy, and fornication! Tempting them into Speakeasies to drink the Devil’s urine and feast on the bodies of Lilith’s daughters! Our city has become the devil’s playground. There is no God out there. Only sin.”
Flashes of her face imprinted in his mind. Credence frowned and tried to push it from his thoughts, but he couldn’t. His thoughts became consumed by her. As Father Blackwell spoke, he began to envision things he knew he shouldn’t.
“‘The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.’” Father Blackwell reads. “Don’t you see? It isn’t ‘fashion’ or ‘modernity’. The devil has infested the media to infect our minds. He wants to taint our bodies to further stray us from God. ‘Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body’... and therefore, is a sin against God.”
His cheeks burned, and he prayed nobody would notice. He’d never thought of her like this before. Yet, somehow, the sermon unlocked one of his most shameful desires. He imagined the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. He reminisced about the feel of her soft skin. He pictured the curves of her lips, chest, and hips. He wondered how they would feel on his lips. Would they be just as soft?
“Brothers and Sisters, we must rid ourselves of all sin. Protect your children, for the devil, has his eyes set on them. The greatest sin against God is the polluting of our holy bodies. We must practice modesty and chastity. Only then can we be saved... Let us pray."
The congregation bowed their heads and listened as Father Blackwell lead the closing prayer.
The priest’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Even as he and his sisters handed flyers to those exiting the church, his mind would drift back to the sermon. Mary Lou had left him and his sisters to talk with Father Blackwell. He watched as she walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar. Father Blackwell was already conversing with a member of the church, a stocky man wearing a cream-colored suit and matching hat.
She nearly approached him before another man stopped her. Credence recognized him as Deacon Ripley. Deacon Ripley was as galling as his face would suggest. His face was pointed and far too wrinkled for his age. Deacon Ripley had a habit of sticking his unusually large nose into other people’s business. He reminded Credence of a sewer rat, just as unsightly and full of shit.
He couldn’t make out what was being said, but from the looks of it, Deacon Ripley was reprimanding Mary Lou. Mary Lou did her best to get Father Blackwell’s attention, but he and the mustachioed gentleman ignored her calls. Mary Lou was never really one to lose her composure, but in her desperation, she attempted to divert Deacon from obstructing her access to Father Blackwell. She rushed to the altar, calling Father Blackwell. She began stating her case, catching the attention of those still left in the church.  
“There are evil forces at work, Father!” She shouted. “Heretics walk freely amongst us, doing the devil's work!”
Deacon Ripley came behind Mary Lou. “Pay no mind to her, Father Blackwell, she speaks fabrications.”
“This is not fiction, Father, I can assure you,” she says. “I have seen them with my own eyes. The devil’s concubine.”
“What is this you speak of?” Father Blackwell demands.
“Witches, Father. There are witches here in New York, working right under our noses—”
“I told you, Father, she’s insane,” Deacon Ripley cuts in.
“I am not crazy,” Mary Lou snarks. “And if we don’t stop them now, there will be hell to pay!”
“Enough, Ms. Barebone,” says Father Blackwell. “I will hear no more of these fairytales. Please, have decency.”
Father Blackwell turned to the gentleman and guided him to a back door where they disappeared from the sanctuary. Mary Lou, still determined to be heard, began shouting after them, preaching her testimony of witches infiltrating New York. This resulted in her being handled by a few clergymen and escorted off the premises. People whispered and gossiped as the Barebones walked by. It wasn’t hard to tell Mary Lou was humiliated. She put on a brave face, clenching her jaw and holding her head high. She grabbed Modesty by the hand and walked away. Credence and Chastity followed close behind with their heads down.  
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It had been about a week since the church incident. Mary Lou hadn’t left her room since. The only one to see her was Modesty. Mary Lou always had a soft spot for the younger sibling. In any other circumstance, Credence would have taken such behavior as a blessing. Whatever wrath Mary Lou was feeling wasn’t being directed at him. But the looming threat of her presence left him little to no space to relax.
Credence was helping Chastity make pamphlets in the dining hall when the sound of Mary Lou’s door opening and closing halted their process. Small footsteps trotted down the stairs and into the hall.
“Credence,” Modesty called. Credence stood from his seat and walked to Modesty, who handed him a stack of flyers once he was close enough. “Mother wants you to pass out these flyers around town. She said not to come back until they’re all gone.”
Credence took the flyers in his hands and reluctantly walked to the door. It was snowing today. It wasn’t cold enough for it to stick, but it was cold nonetheless. He already wore his warmest clothes, which happened to be an old navy sweater vest, grey wool suit jacket, and matching trousers. He threw on a grey fedora and ventured into the streets.
He didn’t mind handing out flyers. Anything to get out of that awful place was enough for him. It was just about noon when he left. He thought it best to head towards the inner city. It was Saturday, so there were sure to be people bustling in and out of shops today. It usually wasn’t a long walk, Credence was used to walking long distances. However, the nipping cold slowed his pace a bit.
In the first hour, he spent walking around midtown and passing flyers around the park. Handing out flyers in winter rarely yields any results. People are far too cold and miserable to bother pulling their hands from their pockets to grab a piece of paper. After a very unsuccessful hour, he migrated further north, closer to Times Square.
“Credence?”
Credence stopped in his tracks, his heart jumping wildly in his chest. He slowly turned around to where the voice had come from. There, in all her grace, was the last person he expected to see. He could see her even more clearly than the last night he saw her. This time, she wore a large, white fur coat that stopped at her ankles and a matching fur hat. In her gloved hands, she carried a small beaded purse that glittered when light reflected off it.  In the day’s light, her skin radiantly glowed, much like her purse. Her eyes seemed bigger than what he remembered, mimicking that of a doll’s. They were enhanced by the brown eyeshadow that darkened her lids and the mascara that elongated her lashes. Today, her lips were raspberry pink instead of the deep red he remembered. Snowflakes nestled in the nooks of her curled (h/c) hair, making her appear even more angelic.
“Mi-Miss (l/n)?”
He hadn’t a moment to process her appearance before she rushed into his arms, catching him by surprise. She threw her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his broad shoulder. His hands instinctively gravitated to her waist, holding her steady as she stood on the tips of her toes. She felt lush in his arms, the heat from her body sent warmth spreading throughout his center. The expanse of his neck and cheeks blossomed into a dusty shade of rose. His mind raced as he tried to collect his thoughts. He was almost sure she could feel the rapid beating of his chest.
If she did, she didn’t seem to mind. She held onto him, squealing excitedly. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!” She said between giggles. “I was hoping you’d be here!”
Credence raised his brows, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You... You were hoping?” he repeated.
She pulled away, falling back on her heels to look him in the eye. Her hands still held onto his arms. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you,” she says. “But every time I come down, I hope I do.”
“You visit often?” He asked.
“As much as I can,” she admits. “I live in Kings Point. Do you know where that is?”
He nodded. Kings Point was a village up North by the bay in an area commonly referred to as West Egg. Many wealthy families live there in their ritzy mansions, throwing parties, boating, and golfing.
“Yes, well, I can only visit on weekends. Mainly with friends. But, lately, I’ve made a habit of coming down on my own, since I met you.”
She had said it so casually he thought she must’ve not realized how it sounded. Had she been purposely coming to the city, hoping to cross paths again? A small smile formed on his lips.
Her hands slipped from his arms and returned to her side, much to his disappointment.
Just then, a man behind her coughed, drawing their attention. (y/n) looked back and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry, Eddy. How rude of me! I completely forgot to introduce you.”
She stepped back to the man’s side. “Eddy, this is my friend Credence Barebone. I met him a few weeks ago in Town Square. Credence, this is Edmund Tully.”
Credence and the man made eye contact. The man, Edmund, was tall; even taller than him. He was built, with wide shoulders to match his thick neck and strong, clean-shaven jawline. His rectangular face was undeniably handsome, with strong, straight features Credence had only seen before on statues and hooded green eyes. His blond hair was almost completely hidden underneath his grey newsboy hat that matched the tailored grey suit he wore underneath a thick, black, fur-lined ulster.
Credence was already intimidated by the man. He was older, around his late twenties. If it wasn’t his overall overwhelming appearance that intimidated him, then it was definitely the pointed glower directed at him. (y/n) didn’t notice it. Her eyes were focused on him.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Credence, bravely offering his hand.
Edmund looked down at Credence’s outstretched hand. “Yes, and you as well,” he said indifferently, reluctantly taking his hand and forcing a smile. (y/n)’s brows wrinkled slightly at the interaction as she looked between the two men.
When they stopped shaking hands, Edmund turned to (y/n). It was almost comical how drastically his expression changed when he looked at her. His face softened and his phony, tight-lipped smile became genuine.
“(y/n), darling, I’m afraid I have to go now,” He said.
“So soon?” She asked.
“Yes, actually. Your brother and I have a meeting with your father and Mr. Finnegan around lunch,” he explains.
“Oh, I see,” she hums in understanding. “Well, you better get going.”
“You’re right, I must.” He took a step closer to her. “It was lovely running into you today, (y/n).”
Credence watched as he bent down and placed a large hand on her waist. She too reached around to wrap your arm around his torso. He watched as the man kissed her right cheek before moving to kiss the other. This didn’t phase her at all. Instead, she smiled as if it happened all the time. Credence felt looked away, upset by the display. Why did he feel upset?
The two pulled apart, and Edmund began to walk away. “I’ll tell your brother you said hello, shall I?” He yelled.
“Yes! And tell him that mother wants him home by ten o’clock tonight!” (y/n) responded as she waved goodbye.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Credence spoke up.
(y/n) looked back to face Credence. “I have two older brothers, actually,” she told him. “Aaron and Channing. Eddy is Aaron’s friend. They met at Oxford University. He and my brother both work for my father now, so he’s around often. He can be a bit... overbearing sometimes, but he means well.”
“And your other brother?”
“Channing is only a year older than me, so he’s twenty. He’s my best friend,” she revealed. “He isn’t here, though—in New York, I mean. He’s currently studying abroad in Japan.”
“Japan?”
“Crazy, isn’t it? Between you and me, I think he’s only there to follow this Japanese girl he met. And I don’t blame him! I met her before and she’s very beautiful, sweet too! Though, I do miss him a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with him when I had the chance.”
Credence looked down at his feet as he listened. For some reason, the thought saddened him. Did she miss her brother so much that she would end up leaving for Japan one day? Would he never see her again? Would she miss him if she did? He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay so they could keep meeting like this. So he could see her face and have her smile at him so kindly, like she always did. Her brother might miss her, but he needed her.
Credence felt so selfish for thinking such things. How could he possibly think he deserved her time? If he told her what he truly thought, how would she react?
As if she could read his thoughts, (y/n) took a step closer to him. He picked his head up to face her and saw that she was smiling up at him.
“But, if I had done that, then I wouldn’t have met you,” she says.
Just as quickly as his deprecating thoughts had come, they left once her words reached his ears. Credence could only stare at her in disbelief.
“And he sends me letters every month, so, I guess it's all right,” she chuckled. “So, how have you been?” She asked, bringing him out of his daze.
“I...I’ve been well,” he says.
“I’m glad,” she smiles. Her eyes travel down his form. A small crease forms in the middle of her brows as she tilts her head to the side. “You still haven’t gotten yourself a coat, I see.”
Credence looked down at his clothes as though he had forgotten what he had on. “No, I haven’t.”
She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I suppose I could just buy you one.”
Credence shook his head, not wanting to inconvenience her for a second time. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“I wasn’t really asking,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.”
She stared at him for a moment, squinting her eyes slightly. “Fine, then.” She began unbuttoning her coat. Credence watched her, confused by the sudden action.
“W-What are you doing?” He asked.
“If you won't let me buy you a coat, then I won't wear one either,” she says simply.
Credence furrowed his brows. “But you’ll be cold.”
She scoffed. “And you’re not?”
Credence was rendered speechless. A small smirk curled on her painted lips. “Either you let me buy you a coat, or I won’t wear one at all. I can’t walk with you knowing you’re freezing and I’m perfectly comfortable.”
She was impossible. No matter what he says, she would always find a way to make him give in.
“O-Okay,” he concedes.
(y/n) grinned brightly, fixing her coat back over her shoulders and hooking her arm around his as she had once before.
“This will be fun!” She beamed.
She led him back in the direction she had come while eagerly telling him about the boutique she knew would have the best selection for him. He increasingly became more comfortable in her presence. He even properly engaged in conversation, much to her delight. And whenever she smiled up at him, he found himself smiling too.
The boutique wasn’t far—about three blocks away to be exact. It was a small blue shop with gold painted windows. Through them, Credence could see posed mannequins dressed in all kinds of fancy coats, dresses, and suits. Written above the entrance in the scripted font was a sign that read: Vendicci’s.
Upon entering the store, their ears were filled with Italian opera. The shop appeared to be empty. There were no other shoppers, and the front counter was left unattended. Credence followed her to the counter. On its surface was a small golden bell that she tapped lightly. The bell rang, signaling their presence.
Shuffling could be heard from the back of the shop, catching their attention. From the back of the shop, they could hear harsh whispers and unintelligible curses. A short, thin man came stumbling in. He had dark olive skin and chestnut brown curls that fell around his Grecian face. He was disheveled—the first three buttons of his pink dress shirt were unbuttoned, and the fabric of his pressed white pants were creased. Without looking, the man made his way to the back of the counter, mumbling in a language he couldn’t make out.
Following behind him was a woman equally disheveled in appearance. Her short black hair stuck up in odd places, and she had missed one button of her blouse. She wandered the shop, to mind some clothes on the rack as the man drew near to the front counter.
“Stupidi Americani... Sorry, we are closed for now. You can come back later when—,” The man stopped when his eyes landed on her.
(y/n) smirked. “Hello, Raül,” she waved.
“Bella!” He gasped and hurried towards her with open arms. “How wonderful to see you!” He said in a thick Mediterranean accent. He placed hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss both of her cheeks. “You look even more lovely since the last I saw you.”
“It’s good to see you too, Raül,” she chuckled.
“Where have you been?” He pouts. “It’s been so long I’ve barely been able to survive without you.”
“I’m sorry, Raül, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of how I spend my money,” she explains.
“Mind your money here! I have so many new items you would look molto bella in. I saved them just for you,” he winked.
“That’s sweet of you, Raül. I promise I will come by and try them on at another time.”
Suddenly, the man became aware of Credence’s presence in the room. He looked at him like something had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Raül raised a skeptical brow and asked with pursed lips, “Is this man with you?”
“Yes, he is,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “We’d like to buy a coat. Something thick for the winter.”
Raül nodded and hummed, turning back to face her. “You’re just in luck,” he says. “Early this week I got a shipment straight from Italia: a fine selection of winter coats designed by Feliciano Romano himself.”
(y/n) gasped, clasping her hands together. “That’s fantastic! We’ll try those first!”
She took Credence by the arm and they followed him through the shop where they came upon a round archway covered by red velvet curtains. Raül pulled back the heavy curtains to reveal a separate room. It was small. The carpet was also red to match the curtains and the loveseats and chairs that decorated the room. In the center of the floor, was a circular platform. Above it was a circular ring of white drapes that had been pulled up. Across from the platform was a wall of mirrors, reflecting the room from different angles.
The woman from earlier had come in as well. With her, she brought along a rack filled with many expensive coats. She pulled it to the side of the room, right next to the platform. Raül thanked the woman with a playful pat on her buttcheek.
Credence blushed, having put two-and-two together about what was going on between the two co-workers before he and (y/n) had shown up. (y/n) was unfazed at all by the promiscuous interaction. Instead, she took off her coat and hat and threw them on one of the sofas facing the platform before taking a seat.
“Let’s begin!” Raül said excitedly.
“Stand up there, Credence.” (y/n) pointed to the platform. Credence did as he was told, and stepped onto the raised surface, awkwardly awaiting more instruction.
The dark-haired woman came up to Credence with a large coat in her arms. He didn’t need to put it on to know it wasn’t something that would suit him. She stood behind him and slipped the sleeves of the coat over his arms and shoulders. The coat itself was heavy enough to make him slouch slightly and tense his leg muscles to carry the added weight. The warm fabric engulfed his lanky form. It was made of strange, thick fur—not mink, but from another animal, he couldn’t guess. It was dark brown, and in some areas, it looked black. The length of the coat ended just above his ankles and the sleeves practically covered his hands, the tips of his fingers were all that were visible.
It was definitely a coat well suited for a more muscular type of man. It was the kind of coat that would be perfect for a large Russian mobster. However, on his lanky form, it just looked plain silly. (y/n) looked at him in the mirror, catching his eye.
“Do you like it?” She asks. “Be honest. I won’t buy you something you don’t like.”
“It’s fine,” he lied.
“Absolutely not!” Raül said as he took a step onto the platform and stood in front of Credence, looking him over intently. “I never thought I would say this to anyone, but, my dear, sable is not for you.”
“You don’t think so?” (y/n) chimed in.
“Miss (l/n)!” He gasped. “You are my most fashionable client! Tell me you don’t think this works for him!”
She looked him up and down, a smile stretching across her lips. “I think he looks cute,” she says. “like a cuddly bear.”
Credence blushed and shied away from her gaze. Raül tuts his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Well, he must be the skinniest bear in the forest,” he mutters as he pulls the coat off Credence’s shoulders.
“Want to try another one?” She asked. Credence nodded.
Raül went through the rack before pulling out another coat for him to try. He found one he thought might look best and took it off its hook before helping Credence try it on.
After he helped him slip his arms in, he took a step back to look him over. “How's this?”
It was a slim-fitting burnt orange fox fur coat that stopped halfway. It had a low collar and large brown buttons that trailed from his chest to the hem. He noticed how it was tighter around his waist and made his hips look bigger than he’d like. He thought it was a coat he would see on a woman. 
“It’s a bit bright for winter, don’t you think?” She pointed out.
“Nothing is ever too bright,” Raül argued.
She squinted at Credence’s reflection in the mirror, pondering the look. His face burned red and he silently pleaded she disliked the coat as well. His flustered expression made her stifle a fit of giggles. “I think we’ll try another one,” she smirked.
Raül sighs and slips the coat off Credence’s shoulders, much to his relief. The next coat was a black and white trench with large black buttons and a belt. Credence stood uncomfortably in front of the critical pair.
Raül crossed his arms, a small approving smile plastered on his lips. “Now this, I like!”
“I don’t know...” She hummed. “What do you think, Credence?”
“It’s itchy,” he says.
“It’s tweed,” Raül said, as though it made it better.
She giggled and looked at Raül. “Another?”
They went through several different coats, most of which were unflattering or uncomfortable. Credence thought the others were doing it on purpose — at least, he felt like she was. There was something about the playful smirk that curled the corners of her lips whenever he was dressed in a seemingly ridiculous or feminine coat that made him feel as though she had taken joy in dressing him up and watching his cheeks turn red from embarrassment whenever she expressed how ‘cute’ he looked. While there may have been no initial mal-intent when she initially insisted on buying him a coat, he was starting to feel like she was toying with him; teasing him for her own pleasure. 
Raül pulled another unsatisfying coat off of his shoulders only to replace it with another. The weighted coat comfortably slipped onto his shoulders. When Raül properly fit the coat onto him, he took a step back, a small smile gracing his features. Credence turned his neck to look back at (y/n) who had a similar expression of approval.
“Wow.” She whispered.
The coat was indeed impressive in a simplistic kind of way. It wasn’t too flashy or extraordinary. Just a simple black trench that fell to his knees. It was a sharp, angular cut, one that seemed to broaden his shoulders to imitate a somewhat muscular appearance. The shade of black complimented his pale skin and matched his raven locks, making him appear more porcelain than before. 
“Magnifico! So handsome, like a dark prince!” Raül cheered. His assistant then too voiced her agreement.
(y/n) moved from the sofa to the platform where Credence stood. She eyed him closely, circling him before stopping in his eye-view. She ran her hands up his arms, feeling the material under her skin. She dragged them up and across his shoulders, before stopping at his chest. Credence’s heart drummed against his chest, excited by her touch. He wondered if she could feel it through the coat.
“Do you like it?” she asked him.
“I do,” he says, truthfully this time.
She smiled and turned to face Raül. “We’ll take it!”
(y/n) left with Raül and the woman from earlier to pay for the dashing coat, leaving Credence alone in the dressing room. He looked himself over in the mirror, admiring how he looked in the black material. He couldn’t deny how good he looked in it. For the first time he looked, normal. Better than normal—he looked like a proper gentleman. Sure, a real ritz could snuff him out in a heartbeat, but to the average New Yorker, he could pass for someone on the same caliber as (y/n). It was like looking at the version of him he always wanted to be.
It wasn’t long before the fleeting fantasy soured. The rational part of his brain picked at the flaws of this entire interaction. How would he explain to his mother where he got such an expensive coat? If she saw him wearing it, she would definitely ask questions he was afraid to answer. Either way, he knew he couldn’t be seen with it on while she was around. But he couldn’t throw it away; not when she went through all the trouble of buying it for him. And it was such a nice coat... Credence shook the worries from his mind. He couldn’t think about it now. 
After (y/n) paid for the coat, the two bid Raül goodbye and ventured back out into the cold. Already, Credence noticed a stark difference of the cold with the coat protecting his skin. It dulled the nipping chill that never left during the winter months. 
“Much better, isn’t it? ‘Not cold’ my ass,” she snarked playfully. She fished around her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. “Take these.”
Credence eyed the gloves questionably. (y/n) sighed and took his hand from his side, sliding the gloves on before doing the same with the other. “There,” she grinned. “I wasn’t sure if these were gonna be the right size, but look! They’re perfect!”
“But... you didn’t have to buy these for me,” said Credence.
“I didn’t buy them,” she says. “Raül gave them to me—well, to you. He says those gloves must go with that coat. I have to say I agree; they really complete the look.” She began walking down the street again, prompting him to follow her. “And don’t worry about the coat, okay? Like I said before, it’s on me,” she reminded him.
Credence still felt couldn’t accept something so valuable without thanking her. She bought him a coat because she cared about how he was feeling, just like when she helped him off the street all those weeks ago. He felt indebted to her—grateful to her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he returned the favor tenfold. 
To her, this was obvious. She could tell buying the coat bothered him. He was so tense. He probably would never relax around her unless he somehow proved that he deserved to. Perhaps she can help him see. She glanced at the taller boy from the corner of her eye.
“But,” she sighed. “If you’re still looking for some way to repay me, I can think of something I’d like you to do.”
Credence perked up. “Really? What is it?”
She grins up at him, showing her pearly white teeth. “Go on a date with me.”
Credence’s eyes widened. “W-What?”
(y/n) chuckled. “If you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine.”
“No!” He said all too desperately. He blushed at his own excitement. “I mean... Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“It’s why I suggested it, isn’t it?”
Credence blushed. A date? He’d imagined taking her on a date in his head about a hundred times. He thought of what he might say and do on the chance he got to be alone with her again. Maybe this time he’ll follow through.
“Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you want to go?”
“How eager are you!” She laughed. “I didn’t even say when and you’re already trying to sweep me off my feet, huh? Either that or you’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“T-That’s not how I meant it!” he stammered.
(y/n) giggled at his demise. “I’m just teasing you, Bunny. No need to turn so red,” she smirked.
She didn’t help his case when she slipped her arm between his to link their arms. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her being so close to him. No matter how many times she touched him, he always managed to get flustered. It’s probably why she did it so much, just to see him blush.
“Now is as good a time as any,” she said while smiling up at him. “Are you hungry? I’m starving!”
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They walked through the city together, arm in arm. Unlike last time, Credence attempted to be more interactive with her. (y/n) was definitely the more dominant converser, but his attempts to be more engaging with her didn’t go unnoticed. He asked her the questions that have been collecting in his head since they met.
He asked her what she did in her spare time (paint) and what her favorite food was (chocolate). He learned that she was a Columbia scholar currently on break and that she recently adopted a hairless cat named Onyx (it was the only cat her father wasn’t allergic to). Talking with her became easy. He even made her laugh a few times.
While they walked, Credence felt like they passed about twenty different restaurants and cafés he thought she would like. But whenever he thought they were about to stop, she kept going. He was wondering where exactly she was taking him. 
“Are we eating somewhere in particular?” He asked discreetly.
(y/n) nodded and hummed. “I’m taking you to one of the best places on earth. Salone’s! It’s not that far from here. It’s been a while since I’ve been, but I’m really craving it. Have you ever been there before?” She asked.
Credence shook his head. “Never,” he said, causing her to gasp dramatically.
“Oh, now we definitely have to go! What kind of person would I be if I let you go on living without experiencing God’s gift to man? And by ‘God’ I mean Dixie Salone, the owner.”
When they turned the corner, there was a small restaurant named Salone’s across the street. Taking precautious measures, (y/n) gingerly led Credence across the street and to the restaurant. When they opened the door, the smell of grease and peanuts filled the air. The place was reasonably packed, with average looking people all looking at them as they entered the room. (y/n) looked out of place in her rather extravagant attire, though now—with her on his arm and his new coat—he probably looked just as pretentious as she.
If (y/n) noticed the leering eyes of the other customers, she didn’t show it. Instead, she scoured the area for a place to sit, before landing on a booth tucked away in the back. They claimed the booth for themselves. Credence took the booth facing the door, shedding his outer attire and tucking it away in the seat corner. (y/n) slid into the seat across from him, shrugging off her coat and hat, revealing her clothes underneath.
Underneath the mound of fur, was a matching white dress. Unaccommodating to the weather, the dress underneath hung off her shoulders. It had long sleeves, but the upper half of her chest and her shoulders were exposed. Though, Credence figured when you have fur to wear over your clothes, it doesn’t matter much what you wear under it. The fabric was velvet, which must have also helped. From what he could see, it hugged her body well. Credence looked down at his hands on his lap, realizing he had been staring a bit too long. Lucky for him, she hadn’t noticed.
On the table were two menus placed before them. He looked down at the large printed sheet. Credence had never been to a restaurant before. He had eaten nowhere else but the church. He ate once a day (if he ate at all) and it was the same thing almost every time: porridge and stale bread. But on the menu before him, there was no porridge or stale bread at all. There was soup, steak, chicken, and almost every kind of pie. He felt his mouth watering just thinking about it. 
“Don’t bother looking at the menu,” (y/n) told him, gaining his attention. “I’m going to order for you. This place is really only good for two things, everything else is subpar, trust me.”
He looked at the menu again, mildly disappointed. He was looking forward to trying fried chicken. He took a moment to look around the diner. Most of the people there looked like working classmen: factory workers or nannies. Some still wore their uniforms under layers of sweaters and scarves. Others wore regular everyday clothes. Many of those who eyed them upon their entry returned their attention to their food and prior conversations. Though, there were a few that still snuck looks at their table in the back. Some were harmless, like the little girl who was staring at (y/n) in awe. Some were more menacing, like the rugged-looking man sitting on a stool by the counter who seemed annoyed by their presence.
(y/n) noticed that Credence’s eyes were shifting around the room pointedly. “Is something the matter?” She asked.
“It’s just...” He began. “I never thought you would be the type to eat at a place like this.”
“I guess it does seem a bit funny, huh? I look like someone who’d frequent an uptown steakhouse, right?” She chuckled. “Truth is, I’ve never had a big part in that lifestyle. Banquets and fine dining, I mean. It’s all fake and pretentious. But this—” she gestured to the room around them. “This is real. The food is real. The people are real. Do you know what I mean?”
Credence nodded. “I think so.”
“Some of my favorite memories take place here. My father would take me here when I was little on his days off. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I guess I wanted to relive that with you today.”
Credence took notice in the look in her eyes. He could tell that recalling such memories saddened her. He didn’t like seeing her upset, but, at the same time, he was glad she wanted to share something so important to her with him. One day, he hoped to do the same.
Not long after that, a young woman dressed in a red dress and a white apron with a stitched red S on the bottom corner walked up to their table with a notepad in hand.
“Hello and welcome to Salone’s, what can I get the lovely couple today?” The waitress asked. Credence couldn’t help but blush after being referred to as a couple.
“Yes,” (y/n) said happily. “Today we’ll—” she stopped mid-sentence before glancing at Credence across the table. She smirked and waved the waitress down to her.
The waitress smiled and got down on her knees next to her. (y/n) grabbed a menu and held it in front of their faces so Credence couldn’t tell what she was whispering. He watched in confusion as (y/n) whispered their order to the waitress.
The waitress nodded, and every once in a while he heard her giggle. “Yes, alright... okay... got it!”
The woman stood back up on her feet and smiled down at the two diners. “If you two just wait here, I will be right back with your orders,” she said cheerfully before trotting off.
“What did you get?” Credence asked once she had left.
(y/n) shook her head and held her fingers to her lips to imitate the motion of closing a zipper. “It’s a surprise,” she winked.
Credence nodded, having decided to trust her decision. In the meantime, while they waited for their food, (y/n) engaged in another conversation with him. It was a continuation of their earlier conversation about pets. (y/n) wanted to know if Credence had any pets. When he told her he never had a pet, she asked him what kinds of animals he likes. He told her that he never met many other animals before. He’d seen many rats in his life, but that just came with the joys of living in New York City. But he thought it appropriate to mention he once made a bond with a stray cat when he was younger.
It was a black skinny thing, with a chewed off ear, and part of its tail was missing. One day, when he’d been left out on the streets as a punishment (he told her he was walking home), the cat came up to him and was begging for food. Lucky for the cat, he had a piece of bread in his pocket. He gave it to the sad creature, and it ate it from his hand. He’d never pet a cat before then, but he liked how it’s fur felt when he brushed it, and the sounds of the cat’s meows. After he told her that story, he stated that he probably liked cats the best.
“We’re just alike! Maybe one day I can take you to meet Onyx,” she suggested.
The corners of Credence’s lips curled up softly. “I’d like that,” he said.
Just then, the woman from earlier came up to them with their order on a large silver platter. The waitress placed the hot food onto the table, along with their drinks before leaving them to enjoy their meal. Credence looked down at the plate of food in front of him.
“Burgers?”
“Burgers,” she repeated excitedly. “If there’s one thing this place can make, it’s a damn good burger. Well, that and a mean vanilla milkshake! The fries aren’t half bad either,” she says as she pops one in her mouth.
Meat and fried potatoes filled his nostrils. The burger was as big as the plate it came on. The sesame bun was soft and round, and the edges appeared to be lightly toasted. Crunchy lettuce, cheese, and two slices of bacon coated in mayonnaise and ketchup poked out from the sides on top of a thick beef patty. (y/n) smiled in amusement as she watched Credence carefully take the burger in his hands. His eyes were practically sparkling with excitement.
“Go on,” she encouraged. “Take your first bite! I want to see the look on your face when the juicy meat hits your tongue.”
Credence glanced at her across the table, before opening his mouth and taking a generous bite out of the hefty burger. Various flavors overstimulated his senses. The beef and pork collided with the onions, lettuce, cheese, and condiments to create an unfamiliar taste he’d never experienced before. The meat was succulent and juicy, just as she said it would be. The cut of the beef was thick and chewy, and the bacon was crispy and flavorful. The bun was soft and crunchy and tasted as though it was toasted with butter. It wasn’t stale at all! It was like it came fresh out of the bakery just before it wound up on his plate. 
It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“Well?”
Credence hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, (y/n) was looking at him expectantly. He swallowed the delicious food and licked his lips greedily, chuckling softly.
“It’s good,” he smiled.
A wide grin stretched across her painted lips. It was the first time he’d laughed around her.
“You have a pretty smile, you know that?” She told him.
Credence’s cheeks reddened for the thirtieth time that day, and he lowered his head to hide it from her.
(y/n) chuckled softly before taking his basket of fries. “Here.” She took the red ketchup bottle from the side of the table and drizzled the condiment over the fries in a zig-zag pattern before sliding the basket back towards him.
“Thank you,” he muttered bashfully through a mouth full of food.
“You’ve got ketchup on the side of your mouth,” she told him.
Without thinking, he stuck his tongue out to lick the spot clean. (y/n) smirked in amusement, watching him do so, finding it cute.
“Did I get it?” He asked.
She snickered and reached her hand across the table to the side of his face. Her thumb gently swiped the corner of his mouth. The action took him by surprise. He sat tensely as she did it. It was a quick moment— a gentle touch, and yet his entire body burned with heat at the contact. When she pulled away and leaned back in her seat, the warmth still lingered. She looked him in the eyes, not breaking contact as she brought her thumb to her lips. The pink flesh of her tongue darted out and lewdly flattened against the pad of her thumb, cleaning it of the ketchup.
Credence felt his body ache at the simple action, the tips of his ears burning incredibly hot. (y/n), who was by no means ignorant to the effect she had on him, could only smirk and marvel at the rosy tint of his cheeks. Credence was grateful she didn’t draw attention to it. It was easier to hide how flustered she made him when they were outside, and he could blame his feverishness on the cold. Now that they were inside and it was warm, it made it harder to deny. He couldn’t bear being teased by her further, he felt like he might explode. She must have sensed it too, because she made no other moves to make him blush after that. She acted as though it didn’t happen and continued to eat her food. Credence then too returned to eating, praying that the ache he felt went away. 
It did, with the help of other distractions. (y/n) continued innocent conversation as they ate to keep the peace. As they talked she could tell that her earlier display still hindered his interaction. While they talked, she’d notice his eyes would linger on her lips rather than her eyes; and whenever they did lock eyes, he would trip over his words and look away.
It was cute, she thought.
Before she could decide to tease him further, the waitress had returned to their table, having noticed that their plates had practically been licked clean. She asked if they were finished with their plates, and they both nodded.
As she collected their dishes she asked, “Can I interest you two in some dessert?”
(y/n) pursed her lips and turned to Credence. “What do you think? Still have room for more, pretty boy?”
Credence flushed.  “I-I’ve never had a milkshake before,” he stammered, referring to the claim she made earlier.
She smiled, before gingerly holding up a finger to the waitress. “We’ll have one large vanilla milkshake with extra cherries, please!”
The waitress returned her smile and winked. “Coming right up!”
It wasn’t long before she came back with the milkshake. It came in a large glass cup filled with vanilla milkshake and topped off with a generous swirl of whipped cream. It was decorated with a cherry, but the extra cherries (y/n) asked for layered the bottom of the glass. The waitress placed the glass on the center of the table between the two. She handed them two big, red and white striped straws before leaving them once more. They both took one and put it into the glass.
(y/n) smiled eagerly at Credence across the table. “You get the first sip,” she said.
He thanked her as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around his straw. He sucked on it how he normally would without realizing how thick the milkshake was. (y/n) watched him struggle for a moment as he nearly ran out of breath trying to suck the ice cream up the straw. He got it eventually, the cool, sweet, vanilla filling his mouth. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but he just knew that the taste surprised him. He never had sweets before. Sugar is a gluttonous indulgence that Mary Lou found sinful. But as the sticky sweet cream slid down his throat, he wondered if all sin was just pleasures he was being denied.
He didn’t have to tell her he liked it. It was written all over his face. It was probably the most relaxed she’s ever seen him. She enjoyed seeing him that way, with a small smile on his face and flushed cheeks. Credence was so invested in the milkshake, (y/n) was sure he would drink it all if she didn’t get her sips in. Credence nearly choked when he looked up and saw her face mere inches from his own, sipping on the other straw in the glass.
She didn’t seem to mind at all, being so close to him. Her eyes were closed as she sipped. Her curled lashes brushed against her full cheeks and her glossy lips circled the straw delicately. This close, he could see the texture of her (s/c) skin, seeing the few freckles and moles that decorated her features he hadn’t noticed before.
When she did open her eyes, he didn't look away. This time he looked in her eyes and saw for the first time that her eyes weren’t just one shade of (e/c), but a combination of different shades and colors to make the color that was distinctly her’s. Similarly, she saw that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black if it weren't for the few streaks of chocolate brown and burgundy that reflected in the light.
(y/n)’s lips curled into a smile. She bashfully looked away from his eyes and into the glass. The two drank in comfortable silence, savoring both the milkshake and the tender moment. They drank the contents of the glass, leaving nothing but the leftover cream and cherries at the bottom. They wouldn’t go to waste. Cherries must have been (y/n)’s favorite because ate most of them. She did however offer one to Credence for him to try. She held the cherry by the stem and encouraged him to take a bite. He thought it was a bit embarrassing that she insisted on feeding it to him, but he took the cream covered fruit into his mouth and found it just as sweet—if not sweeter—than the milkshake itself.
She let him eat the remaining cherries himself. While he was eating, he watched (y/n) gather her things, putting on her coat before sliding out of the booth.
“I’m going to go pay while you finish,” she told him as she got up.
She walked over to the front counter where the waitress was counting money from the cash register. Credence watched as the two women talked. (y/n) smiled at the waitress and said something that made her laugh. She reached into her purse and pulled out several bills. She handed it to the waitress, who looked at the cash in her hands with wide eyes.
“For me?” He overheard the waitress ask. When (y/n) nodded, the young girl squealed in excitement and rushed from the counter to hug her. The two stumbled due to the unexpected force, but (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. She laughed and hugged the waitress back, patting her back in a friendly manner. Credence, having finished his cherries, got up to stand by (y/n)’s side.
“Thank you so much, miss!” Credence heard the waitress gush as he came up.
“It’s nothing, you deserve it,” (y/n) insisted. (y/n) turned her attention from the young girl to Credence beside her when she felt his presence. She looked up at him with a smile. “Are you ready to go?” She asked him. He nodded.
The waitress looked between the two and grinned softly. “You two make a sweet couple,” she said.
(y/n) returned the grin, hooking her arm around Credence and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, playing into the waitress’s assumptions.
“You two have a blessed day!” The waitress left to tend to a waiting customer leaving him victim to (y/n)’s smug grin. At this point, even his neck was red. (y/n) couldn’t help but find  it amusing. No matter how flustered he got, he wouldn’t protest.
She lightly squeezed his arm, making him look down at her. “Are you ready to go, pretty boy?” She asked him.
It was the second time she called him that, and it was just as startling as the first time. The pet name made his heart swell in his chest and his brain stutter. But again, he didn’t protest. He just nodded his head and turned his face away to hide his reddened cheeks. (y/n) giggled, satisfied with the reaction she got, and they both walked out of the restaurant and back into the cold.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling, but the sidewalks were still slick with slush and ice. (y/n) took a deep breath, breathing in the crisp air as she looked up at the sky.
“Is it that late all ready?” She muttered to herself, her happy features falling slightly. Despite the heavy, grey clouds blanketing the sky, they could still see the sun shining brightly behind them. Credence too looked up at the sky. From what he could tell, it was around three in the afternoon..
He turned to (y/n). “Do you have to go now?” He asked her regrettably.
Her eyes fell down from the sky to his own. Her lips pressed into a small smile and shook her head. “Not just yet,” she said.
“Why don’t you walk with me to the park.” She demanded more than asked and pulled him off down the sidewalk.
He walked with (y/n) a little while longer, back towards the park. Along the way, (y/n) would stop outside shops and look at the items displayed in the windows. Some things of the things she expressed an interest in were for her, sometimes she would see an item and would say something along the lines of “Mom would love this” or “Aaron has something like this”. But sometimes she would stop and turn to Credence and ask, “Do you like this?”
He had to talk her out of buying him things multiple times. She seemed so eager to spoil him. She wanted to buy him a new pair of shoes and a watch she’d seen on display. There was an expensive-looking suit outside of a tailor’s shop, and her eyes practically sparkled upon seeing it. She tried to convince him to go in and try it on, but he knew if he did, she would end up buying it for him. How he deterred her from the idea was a miracle in itself. But eventually, she dropped the idea, and the two continued on their walk. 
The two reached the park without buying a single thing. When they reached the entrance of the park, (y/n) stopped, and pulled away from his side. Credence halted in his tracks, turning around to face her. He looked down at her as she smiled up at him.
“Do you have anywhere to go after this?” She asked him.
Credence shook his head. His mother wouldn’t be expecting him until dark.
She pursed her lips and tilted her as if in thought as she sighed.
“Should I just kidnap you?”
The question took him by surprise. (y/n) laughed at the perturbed look on his face. “I’m joking, Credence,” she said between snorts. “I won’t kidnap you. Not unless you want me to.”
Credence smiled softly, letting out a soft chuckle of his own. This made (y/n) smile even bigger than before. She took a coy step closer to him, taking one of his gloved hands in her own and swinging it playfully.
“I had fun today, Credence,” she told him. “As first dates go, this is probably the best one I’ve ever been on.”
“Just probably?” Credence mumbled jokingly.
(y/n) smirked, amused by the sudden remark. “Yeah, just probably.”
Credence looked down at their hands, admiring how small her hands were compared to his. Somehow he hadn’t realized just how much shorter than him she was. He always felt smaller than her. He didn’t mind it: feeling small. It was different from how other people made him feel small; like his mother or strangers on the street. They made him feel tiny, like a bug— like something disgusting and inconvenient. To them, he was something they could easily step on. But with her, it was different.
With her, he felt small, like a flower. And to him, she was the sun. She was so big and so bright. Whenever she was around, he felt alive. And whenever she wasn’t, he felt like he might die. He didn’t mind feeling small around her, because, at least when he’s with her, he is consumed by light. 
“I had fun too,” Credence spoke up. “I really enjoy spending time with you, Miss (l/n).”
“Are you always this formal?” She teases despite her obvious blushing. “I enjoy spending time with you too, Mister Barebone.”
She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go. She brushed past him, striding down the street. Credence watched her as she walked, his heart sinking just a little.
As though she could sense it, (y/n) looked at him over her shoulder as she walked and grinned. “Don’t look so sad,” she yelled to him. “I’ll find you again.”
With a chaste wink, she disappeared around the corner and away from his line of vision, leaving him with a full stomach and an even fuller heart.
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That night, Credence returned home alone. He reluctantly walked back to the crooked chapel. His mind was fogged with thoughts of her. When he came to the front of what he, unfortunately, called ‘home’, he hesitated to go in. He looked through each window. It was dark inside. Could everyone have fallen asleep already?
He looked down at the coat on his body. He quickly shrugged the heavy material off of his shoulders and folded it in his arms before quietly entering the house. The house seemed empty, and it was almost too quiet. He pushed his way through the dark and carefully made his way up the stairs as to not make a sound. He’d gotten good at being quiet in the house. He memorized each squeaky board and mastered the art of moving in silence despite his height. 
He crept up the stairs as he’d done many times and tip-toed to his bedroom, where he then quietly shut his door. Once he heard the door click softly, he released his breath and sighed in relief.
His room wasn’t much. It was small and comprised a bed with an old iron frame, an armoire, a sink, and a metal tub that he uses to bathe. He looked down at the coat in his hands. He moved to the armoire by his bed and opened its doors. There wasn’t much inside; he had little to put in it, anyway. But today, he would be thankful for that. 
The armoire was a rather fancy piece of furniture. It stood out in his otherwise destitute room. The armoire was just as old and worn out as the rest of the room, but it wasn’t hard to tell it was an ornamental relic of the 19th century. It had enough space to fill two weeks’ worth of clothes. It was almost offensive how little there was inside it. One detail about it was its hollow bottom. Credence could slide the bottom plank of wood to reveal a cubbyhole. Its original purpose must have been for shoes or winter blankets, but now it would serve a new purpose. 
Credence kneeled on the ground and packed the coat neatly into the cubby before throwing his new gloves on top. They fit perfectly inside and he was allowed to slide the wooden plank back on with ease. With that accomplished, he rose to his feet and closed the armoire doors. He began undressing, stripping his clothes until he was left in nothing but his boxers.
It was as cold in the house as it was outside, but credence had no pajamas that would keep him warm. He had but one pair of old satin pajamas that were too small for him. He decided not to wear them tonight. The naturally cool material wouldn’t provide him warmth or comfort.
After putting away his dirtied clothes, Credence fell back on his bed and stared up at the rotting ceiling above him. As he lay there, his mind would drift to the memories of his ‘date’. Just thinking about her made his heart beat faster. He pictured her in his mind, reliving the time he spent with her.
It was the most surreal thing. Being with her made him feel things he never felt before. She made his heart flutter and his cheeks warm in a pleasantly addicting way. When he was with her, he forgot everything bad. There was no anxiety, no judgment, no harsh words, or abuse. He was just a normal man with a normal woman. He wished he could feel that way all the time.
His hand reached behind his head and slipped under his pillow to retrieve the soft pink piece of fabric he kept there. He held it up in front of him, rubbing it between his fingers. The moonlight from his window reflected on its threads, and he could read the stitched initials in the corner.
“(y/n)...” He whispered her name so tenderly. Just saying her name aloud made his lips tingle. He loved saying her name for the simple reason that it was her name. He would say it a thousand times aloud if he could.
He brought the cloth down to his nose and inhaled its scent. Her fragrance still lingered on the soft fabric, clouding his senses. Credence felt a familiar stirring rise in his stomach. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he pressed his legs together. His mind flashed to the other day in the church, remembering the lewd images of her he had fantasized about. A part of him was ashamed. Sexual desire was a sin he shouldn’t act upon. It was a vile, disgusting act. That’s what the church told him, at least. And his mother would have no part of it either.
Mary Lou made sure to reprimand him whenever she suspected him of sexual temptation, so much so he shied away from girls all together. Yet recently, he’s felt a bumbling desire well up inside of him. He knew what it was; he felt it before. Only once before had he fallen victim to his lusty desire. It had been in his adolescence. He was sleeping when he had a dream about a red-haired woman he’d seen on the street. She was most likely in her twenties at the time, but she was so captivating he remembered her face for a week. He dreamed of that red-haired woman touching and caressing him. She’d even kissed him like he’d seen couples on the street kiss. This mild fantasy woke him from his sleep with a shameful mess on his bed.
He was so humiliated and ashamed he rushed to confess to Mary Lou, who punished him greatly for his lasciviousness. He didn’t dream of the red-haired woman or any woman at all after that. That is, until he met her.
At first, his thoughts of her were innocent. He would fantasize about holding her hand and laying on her chest as he slept. She would caress his face and run her fingers through his hair.  He would give her chaste kisses on her cheek, and she would giggle and laugh, returning the favor. But that changed that day he went to church and listened to Father Blackwell’s sermon. That was the first time he thought of her in such an erotic way.
It was because of this he felt particularly suffocated by her presence today. He became even more aware of her touches. His eyes would stare at her lips more often and glance at the curves of her chest. He thought about how she held on to his arm; How warm and soft she was; Her small hands. He thought about how her finger felt brushing against his lip. About how her tongue darted between her plump lips to lap at her thumb.
Credence bit his lip to keep his whimpers from escaping. His thoughts were filled with images of her, his body reacted on its own. He curled on his side and pressed his legs together to relieve himself of his growing hardness. Instead of discouraging his growing lust, it seemed to only spur it on. The feeling of his thighs pressing against his length brushed an itch he desperately desired to scratch.
He wanted her by his side so terribly. If only he were as confident and manly as the men he saw on the street, she would be. If he were as confident as the man she was with today, then he could call her by her name. He too could take her by her delicate waist and kiss her cheeks. And, oh, did he wish to kiss her.
He wanted to kiss her many times today. He wanted to kiss her the moment he saw her. He wanted to kiss her again in the boutique when she pressed her hands on his chest, and again when she asked him to go on a date with her. He wanted to kiss her multiple times in the restaurant for teasing him so viciously, and he wanted to kiss her deeply before they said goodbye.
He imagined what it would be like to be that kind of man; what it would be like to have her with him now, and what he would do if she was. If she was there on his bed laying next to him, he would want to kiss her now as well. He would have her under him, staring up at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes. He would brush the hair away from her face and stroke her cheek. Her hands would hold his sides and pull him closer so their bodies lay flat against each other. He would feel her and she would feel him. Her warmth would consume him, and their bodies would mold together.
Credence closed his eyes and smelled her pink handkerchief. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was there.
“(y/n)...” He whispered her name once more. His hips rocked hesitantly, the undeniable bulge in his boxers was now too evident to ignore. Rocking his hips caused a pleasurable sensation in his stomach. It felt so good, he did it again... and again... and again; rocking his hips as he held her handkerchief to his nose and imagined her.
He thought of kissing her soft lips as he pressed into her, feeling her hands run up and down his sides as they had done before. He wanted to rock his hips against her like he was doing now. Would it feel as good for her as it felt for him? Would she breathe as heavy as he was now? Would she pant and whisper his name?
“A-ah...”
He panted lewdly, pleasuring himself with these thoughts. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.
He laid on his back on the bed. His body seemed to know what to do without thinking about it. He kept his eyes closed as his free hand snaked down his body to palm himself over his boxers. He rubbed himself through the fabric, his shallow breaths filling his ears. But to him it wasn't his hands, but hers; her soft, small hands touching him gently.
It was her delicate hands that slipped past the waistband of his boxers and gripped his length. It was her hands that stroked him slowly. She was there, whispering his name while he whispered hers. The more she stroked him, the shorter his breaths became. Each breath he took was filled with her scent. She consumed him, wrapping her essence around him, and filling his body with heat.
She stroked him faster as they kissed. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue past her lips as he’d seen couples do before. He could taste the cherries and vanilla on her tongue, as sweet as they were in the milkshake they’d shared. She moaned his name in her mouth, driving him crazy.
“Ha..-ahh. ahaa...”
More, he thought. All he could think about was how he wanted more. More of her scent, more of her touch, more of her.
Her hands became wet with his slick, gliding up and down his length with vigor. His body was overtaken with a foreign sensation, buzzing through his body, collecting where he wanted to be touched the most. The faster she stroked him, the better he felt. She felt good, so so good.
“H-Ha...-haaaa...(y/n)...”
He wanted to say her name over and over. He wanted to shout it, loud enough for the heavens to hear. He didn’t care if God heard him. He wanted God and the angels to hear so they would know how she made him feel. He was overwhelmed by love and lust for her. He wanted them to know that his body was hers and he willingly gave it to her. He wanted to touch her, please her, feel her.
His eyes clenched shut. Her hands pumped his twitching length excitedly, the buzzing heat collecting at his center. His legs began to shake, his back arching from the bed. Lavender and vanilla, that’s what he smelled as his vision blurred and the buzzing heat tingling in his core burst and was replaced with a cool wave of overwhelming pleasure.
His body trembled, somehow coated in a thin layer of sweat despite the room being cold. He stayed still, laying in silence as he let his body calm. When he finally opened his eyes, he half expected to see her hovering over him with that playful smile on her face, only to be met with the rotting rafters of his ceiling.
He sighed through his nose. Once the euphoric cloud in his mind cleared, shame and regret replacing his lusty desire, he moved from his bed to the sink across the room. He turned the knob and a low stream of water fell from the faucet. Taking the dingy rag that rested on the sink’s bowl, he wet it, using it to clean up his mess. As he wiped himself, he wondered if that was what sex was like. He never touched himself like that before, though he wanted to many times. Now that he had, the answer to his question was clear. Sins were just pleasures he was being denied. 
He returned to his bed, burying himself beneath the covers. He took the handkerchief back into his hand and held it by his face as he slept on his side. His eyes grew heavy, the scent of lavender slowly drifting him to sleep. A passing thought in his mind wondered if this is what it would feel like to sleep by her side. He would do anything to just hold her once, to lie on her chest and listen to the sounds of her breathing.
That was his last thought before falling asleep.
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Several days would pass since the last time he saw her. They would be long, dreary days spent in the chapel. It snowed relentlessly for three days, making it impossible to venture out. During that time, he would clean and help Chastity serve meals to the orphans that sought refuge from the streets. The day when the snow finally ceased to fall, Mary Lou tasked him with shoveling the street in front of the chapel while she took Modesty and Chastity into town.
It was once he finished shoveling that he realized he had the rest of the day for himself. He pondered staying in the house for a moment, but quickly threw the idea. He couldn’t bear another minute in that house. Instead, he went on a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this when he had the time. He would walk aimlessly just to get away. He only could afford to when his mother left him alone.
Today, Credence found himself at Central Park. It was no surprise that the park was packed. The low temperatures of the past week allowed the lake to freeze over, thick enough for people to skate on. Men, women, and children scattered across the area. Carolers were singing Christmas songs and street vendors peddled treats. It was a pleasant and lively scene.
He had almost forgotten that Christmas was so soon. He’d been so caught up with his duties it had slipped his mind. He liked Christmas, even though he didn’t celebrate it the way most people do. His mother forced him and his siblings to attend church on Christmas Day. But he could appreciate what others did on Christmas. He liked seeing the kids play in the snow, showing off their new toys. He liked the idea of parents spending time with their children by the fire. He even liked listening to Christmas songs that would play on repeat outside the record store.
Credence watched the people as he walked through the park. He liked to imagine himself in their place. Sometimes he was a kid playing fetch with his dog. Sometimes he was a woman making snow angels, or a man building a snowman. Right now, he was the man of a couple skating on the ice, holding hands with his partner. The pair laughed as they spun in circles, occasionally grasping at each other’s arms when they slipped.
He was too busy projecting he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. Like any other creature, he was susceptible to attack. He flinched as he felt icy-cold pellets burst against the back of his head. He heard a sharp gasp not far behind him, followed by a heap of childish giggles. Credence turned around, expecting to see a group of devious looking children. Imagine his surprise when he saw her standing ten feet away from him with a group of children looking incredibly guilty.
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry, Bunny! I was aiming for your shoulder, I swear!”
“(y/n)?” He muttered in disbelief.
How did she always appear in the least expected places? He stared her down as she rushed towards him. Today she was wearing a heavy, brown fur-lined coat and a green cloche hat that matched her boots. When she reached him, her hands immediately reached behind his head to dust the remaining remnants of her snowball from his hair.
She looked at him apologetically. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I feel like a total gink,” she pouted.
His cheeks burst into flames. The position she put him in had her chest brushing pressing against his as her hands brushed through his hair. At this angle he could see how neatly curled her hair was under her cap, falling in styled swirls around her face. Her swollen nose was red from the cold. Her breath that smelled distinctly of coffee beans warmed his cheeks.
Credence’s expression softened, a faint smile ghosting his lips. She was still apologizing to him, frantically brushing snow from his hair and shoulders.
“It’s okay,” he said in hopes to calm her. 
She closed her eyes and sighed. Her head lulled forward, hiding her face in his chest. “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” He heard her muffled voice say.
Credence swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously licked his lips. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. He reached a dithering hand to grasp hers and rubbed the back of her gloved hand with his thumb.
“I’m not angry,” he assured her.
(y/n) lifted her head from his shoulders to meet his eyes, searching for any sign of irritation. “Are you sure? You can get me back, if you want.”
Credence nodded his head. “I’m sure.”
She believed him this time, her relief washing over her face. “I really am sorry,” she said one final time. “I just saw you walking past by chance and I wanted to surprise you.”
“I was surprised!” He said a bit too excitedly.
This made her laugh and playfully push his shoulder. Her laugh alone was enough to put a smile on his face, one that made dimples appear on his cheeks. He felt her hand firmly grasp his, holding it properly.
“Why aren’t you wearing your new coat and gloves?” She asked. “Don’t you like them?”
Credence had forgotten he wasn’t wearing the coat you got him. He couldn’t, not without his mother seeing it. If she knew about the coat—if she knew about him seeing you—she would be furious. He kept the coat (y/n) had given him hidden with the rest of the precious things she gave him. He wore the old navy blue coat out that Mary Lou had recently acquired and given to him. It wasn’t nearly as warm or stylish as the coat (y/n)  had gotten for him, but it was enough for the winter, and it was the only thing he could wear in front of his mother.
“I do like them,” he answered. “I was afraid of ruining it. I don’t want to wear it out too much.”
It was the best excuse he could think of at the time, and after mulling over it for a brief moment, she seemed to accept it. She then told him that, if he did end up damaging his new coat, she would simply buy him another, and spoke no more of it.
She nodded towards the lake behind him. “Did you come here to skate?”
Credence looked back to the lake. “Oh, no,” he said. “I never learned.”
Another gasp left her lips. “You’ve never been ice-skating before?”
He shook his head.
“Then we’ve got to fix that, now don’t we?” She reckoned.
Before he could ask what she meant, she’d already left his side. He looked in all directions until he saw her talking to an older couple sitting on a mess of picnic blankets under a tree. It appeared she’d asked him a question because their answer was a shake of their head. She waved goodbye to them before walking off to pursue another person, who gave the same answer. He watched her do this a few times around a small area of the park with no luck. At one point, she stood in the middle of the snow pondering while she scanned the area. Curious, Credence walked up to her.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Looking,” she replied simply.
Her squinted eyes panned across the park, her lips pursed as though she were thinking very hard about something.
“Ah!” She shouted, a triumphant smile stretching across her lips. She turned to Credence and winked. “Follow my lead.”
She walked down a small hill towards a small group of children who were playing in the snow at the bottom. Credence followed a few steps behind.
“Hey, kiddos,” She waved.
The kids stopped what they were doing to look up at her. She waved her hands towards her, beckoning them over. The children shared confused looks, before cautiously making their way towards her. She squatted down Asian style to meet their eyes. Credence stayed a couple of feet away, but he could still make out what was being said.
“Can you keep a secret?” He heard (y/n) ask the children.
The kids nodded and hummed in confirmation. (y/n) grinned.
“You see my friend over there?” She pointed behind her, directing the children’s attention to Credence. “He’s never been ice-skating before!”
The children snickered whispered teasingly among themselves. Credence looked away, embarrassed to be taunted by children. (y/n) giggled with them and easily brought back their attention.
“I really want to teach him,” She revealed once their jeering ceased. “But he’s so silly, he forgot to bring a pair of skates.”
“That is silly!” One of the little girls yelled.
(y/n) looked between Credence and the children. “Now, I see you have a pair of skates.” Sure enough, there were a pair of skates laying in the snow where the kids were once playing, far too big to fit on their small feet.
“Do they belong to any of you?” (y/n) asked.
“No,” The little girl shook her head. “They were already there.”
“We think someone left them by mistake,” An older boy chimed in.
“I see,” (y/n) hummed. “Do you think I can take them for my friend, then?”
“But we was gonna use ‘em! We saw them first!” A small blond boy frowned. (y/n) looked at the boy and flashed her kindest smile.
“Oh, were you now? How about I just borrow them? I’ll bring them right back to you, I pinky promise!” She held out her pinky for him to take. The boy looked at her hand in front of him. He lifted his hand and stretched out his pinky.
“I guess that’s okay...” He mumbled through puffed red cheeks.
(y/n) hooked hers around the boy. “Aren’t you sweet?” She affectionately pat the top of his head. “I hope my kid will be as kind as you are.”
The boy blushed and swat her hand away from his head, adjusting his hat. “Whatever, Lady!” The blond boy ran away, the rest of the children chased after him with childish taunts.
(y/n) chuckled and rose back to her feet. She walked up to where the skates were laying and picked them off the ground before making her way back to Credence’s side.
“Are you ready?” She asked excitedly.
Credence shrugged his shoulders, still processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. (y/n) scoffed and rolled her eyes, forcibly taking Credence’s hand.
“Just come on,” she groaned as she dragged him towards the lake.
When they reached the edge of the ice, she handed him the skates and ordered him to strap them onto his boots. Credence did as he was told and sat down on the nearest bench, securely strapping the skates onto his shoes. After (y/n) had double-checked to make sure they were on right, she held out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it, using her to find his balance. When he stood to his feet his ankles wobbled, disrupting his balance.
(y/n) gripped his arm tightly to keep him from falling. “Careful,” she warned.
He held on to her as she guided him to the lake. She stepped on the ice with ease. She grabbed his other hand and helped him step on the ice. Immediately after his skates touched the ice, his heart raced.
“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” his voice fluttered anxiously.
“You’re okay, I got you,” she promised.
She pulled him further out onto the ice, still clasping his hands. Credence gripped her hands for dear life while silently trying to figure out how it was he ended up in this position.
Other skaters flew past them as he stumbled on the ice like a baby deer. (y/n) didn’t give up on teaching him. No matter how many times he slipped or tripped, she was always there to catch and pick him back up when he fell. Eventually, he got the hang of it. He started balancing himself on his own, gliding somewhat smoothly without having to hold on to her. It didn’t take long for him to relax and reciprocate her playful activities.
(y/n) eventually stepped off the ice, giving him the space to skate on his own. She watched him fondly, taking in the smile glowing on his face. He went around in circles, almost bumping into others a few times, but he directed himself easily. She would say he was a natural.
He went on like that for a while as she watched. When he’d had enough, he made his way back to the edge of the lake where she stood.
“Was that fun?” She asked when he skated towards her. Credence nodded his head and smiled bashfully. She helped him stop by taking his outstretched hands. 
“You’re a fast learner. I’m kind of jealous. I didn’t get the hang of skating until I was twelve,” she brooded jokingly. “Are you done?”
“Yes,” he said as he stepped back on the snow. 
They walked towards the bench, and Credence sat down to take off his skates. (y/n) stayed standing. “There’s a vendor selling treats across the street,” she told him. “Why don’t you give those skates back to the kids while I get us something to drink?”
“But––” Credence tried to protest, not having the courage or social skills to approach a group of children. It was quickly ignored, however, for (y/n) had already made up her mind, and began walking to the street. 
“I’ll be right back!” She said as she left him alone on the bench. 
Credence looked around, silently doubting his ability to find the kids. His eyes scanned the park until they landed on a group of children having a snowball fight. He recognized one of the children as the bratty boy (y/n) convinced to let them borrow the skates. 
He reluctantly got up from the bench and walked over to the children, skates in hand. The closer he got, the louder their shouting laughter became. Most of the children were boys between the ages of seven and thirteen, but three girls around their age had gained their friendship. One girl stayed off to the sidelines watching the others play. He recognized her as well.
“Excuse me... little girl?” He called. The little girl turned around and held out the skates. “Here.”
The girl took them and smiled. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
She looked behind him, frowning when she saw nothing there. “Where’s that nice lady?”
Credence pointed across the street towards the street vendor where (y/n) was patiently waiting in line. “She should be back,” he told her.
“I like her!” said the girl. “She’s very pretty, like a princess!”
This made him smile. It made him happy to know others, even children, saw her the way he did. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She is.”
The little girl looked at Credence, noting the soft smile on his face as he watched you. “Do you like her or something?” She probed unexpectedly. 
“Uh... I...?” Credence struggled to find the words to say. It's not that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he hadn’t expected to be asked that question. Especially not from an eight-year-old girl. Were his feelings that transparent? Did you know how he felt too?
The little girl didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I think she likes you,” she told him, surprising him for the second time.
Credence flushed pink. “Really?”
The small girl reached her hand to pat Credence's arm and imitated the look of someone wise beyond her years. “Trust me. Women know these things.”
Oddly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit hopeful despite the words coming from a child. He never felt about anyone the way he felt about her. The way he is when he’s with her—the way he talks to her and touches her—he can only be that way with her because he likes her. He could never be that way with anyone else. But he always felt that, for her, it was different. Seeing her interact with others like the children, the waitress, Raül—even Edmund—made him realize that she was kind to everyone. She didn’t treat him that way because she liked him. She treated him that way because that’s just the kind of person she was.
“Hey, kiddos!” (y/n)’s voice caught his attention. Both Credence and the girl looked up to see her holding a cardboard box of steaming paper cups. “I got something for you!”
The children playing heard her too and ceased their fight to run towards her. They circled her like a litter of puppies, excitedly asking what she was holding.
She lowered the box for them to see, showing off cups filled with light brown liquid. “For letting us borrow the skates. Be careful though, it's hot!”
The kids yelled enthusiastically as she began handing them each a cup. Credence walked to her side to help her.
“What is it?” He asked.
(y/n) frowned. “Hot chocolate. Have you never had hot chocolate before?”
He shook his head, causing her to gasp.
“I wish I had known sooner!” She pouted. “I got this is from a vendor across the street. I could have gotten better hot chocolate with marshmallows at a cafe a block from here.”
“I think it’s delicious!” The little girl interjected. 
(y/n) smiled down at her. “Well, if you think so, then it must be.”
Credence ended up being the one to give the bratty boy his cup of hot chocolate. (y/n) watched him as he drank it greedily. 
“What about you?” She asked him. “Do you like it too?”
“It’s pretty good, I guess,” he said, trying his hardest to sound indifferent, but it was hard to take him seriously with the chocolate mustache on his lips.
(y/n) laughed and took his cheek between her fingers, pinching them gently. “Gosh, you’re so darn cute! Do you have a big sister already? I can be yours, if you want. I’ve always wanted a little brother!”
The boy blushed and pulled his face away from her hand. “Lady, you’re crazy!”
He threw his empty cup on the ground stormed off angrily. The other children finished their cups and handed them back to her nicely before running off too, leaving her and Credence alone. 
“What did I say?” She mumbled to herself.
Credence couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was nice seeing her tease someone else for a change. 
“Maybe he already has a sister,” he answered sarcastically.  
(y/n) scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, just drink your cocoa,” she chuckled after handing him a cup. 
The two threw away the empty cups and cardboard box in a nearby trashcan. (y/n) suggested they take a walk around the park and talk. She asked him if he liked the hot chocolate, to which he answered yes. She then asked which he liked better: vanilla milkshakes or hot chocolate. He told her milkshakes. They talked like this for a while. Occasionally she would ask about his family and what he liked to do at home. He didn’t give her many satisfying answers, but that didn’t stop her from prodding.
“So, did you give up on hunting witches?” She asked.
Credence swallowed another sip of his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry?”
“You don’t carry around flyers anymore. Did you give up?”
“Oh. No, it’s not that,” he said. “I don’t think my mother will ever give up on exposing witches. It’s just that right now she’s kind of stuck.”
“Stuck? Stuck how?”
“She wanted to speak at the church to let everyone know about what she’d seen, but the priest, Father Blackwell, wouldn’t allow it.”
“I know Father Blackwell,” she told him.
Credence perked up. “You do?”
“Yes! My father is a big supporter of the church. Personally, I identify as agnostic, so I don’t go to church with him unless it’s for a holiday like Easter or Christmas. I wonder if you’ve seen him. Not that you could miss him. He’s a rather large man,” she joked.
“Does he wear a white suit?” Credence asked, remembering the stocky man talking with Father Blackwell the last time he visited the church.
(y/n) grinned and nodded excitedly. “That’s his Sunday suit! He has four of them. For some reason, he only likes wearing cream-colored suits on Sundays.”
“I have seen him,” he admits.
“Small world!” She exclaimed. “Well, anyways, I can definitely tell my father to put in a good word for your mother to Father Blackwell.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course! Better yet, why don’t we go right now?”
“N-Now?” Credence gaped.
“It’s Wednesday, they have a service tonight. Father Blackwell will be there, and I can try to convince him to let your mother have a set this Sunday!
“But what about your father?”
“We might not need him. I know Father Blackwell well enough. He might be swayed on my word alone. It won’t hurt to try,” she explained.
“I guess not,” he agreed.
“Come with me, my car is just a short walk from here!” She grabbed his free hand and directed him towards the street where she’d parked her car. 
After they reached the car, she drove him to the church. It was a short fifteen-minute drive from Central Park. It was still too early for the service to start, but when they entered the church, a few people were sitting in the pews praying. An older woman was playing the organ at the altar while Deacon Ripley read scriptures from the Bible. He stopped only stopped when he noticed the two walking down the aisle. 
“Oh, God,” Credence heard (y/n) mutter under her breath. “Not this clown again.”
He wasn’t used to you outwardly showing your distaste for someone; you were always so nice. But considering it was Deacon Ripley, it wasn’t too surprising. 
He was a cunt.
As they came closer, Ripley marked the passage he’d finished reading and closed the Bible. 
“Miss (l/n),” he called her name with a sneer. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”
“I’m here to speak with Father Blackwell,” she replied coldly. It was the first time Credence had ever heard her use such a tone. 
Ripley frowned, taking a step down from the podium. “What business could you have with him?”
(y/n)’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “My business with him would be his business and mine, so why would I tell you our business if it isn’t your business to begin with?”
Her witty remark clearly got under Ripley’s skin. His frown deepened and splotches of red began appearing under his grey skin. He didn’t get the chance to respond before Father Blackwell stopped him. 
“Give it a rest, Ripley.” Father Blackwell had come out from the door to his office. He moved between Ripley and (y/n), and held out his hand for her. “(y/n), it’s lovely to see you. It’s been a while. A year, I think?”
She took his hand and shook it. “Don’t be silly, Father. You saw me earlier this year, remember? For my parent’s Easter party.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he nodded, chuckling softly. “Must’ve slipped my mind. What brings your here, child?”
 “Ah, yes, about that...” (y/n) eyed Ripley. “Can we speak somewhere private, just the two of us?” 
“I don’t see why not. Step into my office.”
(y/n) turned to Credence and gave him a reassuring smile before following Father Blackwell to his office and disappearing behind the heavy door. Credence could feel Ripley’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. He obviously wanted to say something to him. 
“Seeing that godless woman walk through God’s doors was not something I expected to see today,” he began, excited to get his two cents in.  “But I must admit, seeing you by her side surprises me more. I didn’t realize you two were so close”
What was his problem? Why did he hate her so much? Then Credence remembered what she said to him in the park. Could that be why Ripley hated her? Because she didn’t believe in the church? No, it had to be something else. His pointed anger felt too personal.  
“We’re not really,” Credence answered. “I only just met her.”
“So you say.” Ripley circled him. “I wonder... Does your mother know about you and Miss (l/n)?”
If there’s one thing Credence hated about Ripley, it was his talent for stirring up trouble. His hobby of collecting and relaying gossip often caused spouts within the church. Credence fell victim to this twice before, each time resulting in a beating from his mother. He had to be careful with what he says to Ripley because he will most definitely relay it to his mother if he thinks it will cause conflict. 
“She does,” he lied as best he could. 
Ripley raised his brows. “Really? I never took her for the kind of woman who would allow her son to stroll the streets alone with such... unholy company. If there’s one kind of person Mary Lou hates, it’s women like her.”
Credence frowned. “What do you mean by ‘women like her’?”
“Don’t you know? Not only does she not accept the Christian God, but she fully denounced him. Instead of saving her divine feminine for holy matrimony, she committed salacious acts with various men that would make the Virgin Mary cry.”
Credence fell silent. So this was the reason. The malicious smirk on Ripley’s cracked lips proved that he couldn’t wait to tell him what he knew. 
“Oh my,” Ripley sighed. “I suppose you didn’t know.”
Credence clenched his fist. He could feel his body vibrating with heat. He was so angry. How dare he speak about her that way? How dare he disrespect her? Spread rumors about her? Was gossip not a sin?  Who was he to degrade and scrutinize her?
So what if she did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what he thought about her. It didn’t change how he felt about her. But hearing such demeaning words come from Ripley's mouth made his blood boil. 
There were times where Credence would get like this. It wasn’t often, but when he did, his mind would think dark, violent thoughts. They build up in his head until anger and rage blinded him. He wanted to say something—do something. He probably would have too, if her voice hadn’t rung in his ears, immediately calming his nerves and the growing anger inside him. 
“Credence, I did it!” 
He saw you rushing excitedly towards him with a big smile on your face. You came up to him, grabbed both of his hands, shaking them wildly. 
“Tell your mother that she can speak this Sunday at the end of the service!”
Credence swallowed the lump in his throat. His tightened chest released the tension it was holding and his hands unclenched to hold hers. Looking into her shining (e/c) eyes made all his violent thoughts disappear as if they were never there. 
He blinked a few times, already forgetting how upset he’d just been. “H-How?”
“Magic,” she winked. 
She hooked her arm around his and began walking him back down the aisle to the exit. “Do you want me to drive you home?” She asked, looking up at him.
Credence smiled, Ripley’s taunting comments fleeing his memory. “Yes.”
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The drive took longer than expected. There had been an accident on Manhattan Avenue that detoured them to Harlem. Credence didn’t mind it. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. Driving through Harlem was an experience in itself. He’d never been past the Upper East Side. Harlem was a lively neighborhood. People played music and danced in the streets despite the cold. Murals lined the walls, and there was a hopping joint around every corner. Credence looked out the window in silent awe, taking in everything he saw. 
“Have you never been here before?” (y/n) asked, noticing his astonishment. 
“No,” he told her truthfully. “It’s really nice.”
“You know, I used to live here,” she revealed.
That, he found hard to believe. His doubt must have been visible on his face because she laughed and shook her head. 
“What? You don’t believe me? It’s true, I swear! I wasn’t always like... Well, we didn’t always live in Kings Point.”
Having something to prove, Credence watched as she made a sudden turn, off course from where they were heading. The townhouses they passed were tall, skinny, and faintly worn down. The further they drove from the commercial streets, the quieter it became. They rounded about four blocks before turning into a barren street. Some houses were completely dark, while others had lights in their windows. The car slowed to a stop in front of one of the dark houses. It wasn’t terribly worn, but chipping blue paint covered the exterior and there were cracks in the brick fence that protected it. 
(y/n) parked the car and moved to get out. Credence did the same, opening the door and stepping onto the pavement. (y/n) came to his side and eyed the house. 
“This was my house,” she spoke after a while. “I lived here until I was nine.”
She walked up to the gate and pointed at the mailbox inside it. Faded letters that spelled her last name were imprinted on the stone from where a sign used to be. He tried to imagine her living it; it was almost comical. He only knew her to wear mink coats and designer clothes. He’d only pictured her living in a palace—somehow it felt fitting. Imagining her in such a small house and living an average life didn’t seem right. But perhaps that’s why she kept surprising him.
“No one lives here now. Sometimes I come back just to look around and remember as much about the place as I can.”
Credence walked to her side. “What do you remember?”
A smile fluttered on her lips. “I remember chasing my brothers around the house. We sat by the fire during the winter while my father read us stories and my mother knitted blankets and scarves. I learned how to ride a bike right on this street!” She looked down at the cracked pavement. “We were happier, I think.”
“Are you not happy now?”
(y/n) looked up at Credence and flushed. “I am! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just...” She sighed. “Now that my father has his own architect firm, he’s been so busy I rarely see him anymore. My mother and I were never really close, and it’s pretty easy for us to avoid each other in such a big house. I don’t know... Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it.”
“What about your brothers?” asked Credence. “You seem close.”
“We are,” she smiled. “We always had each other, and most of the time it was enough. Even when Aaron left to study at Oxford, Channing paid extra attention to me. Still, I want us all to be as close as we were.”
He could sympathize with that. Blood-related or not, Modesty and Chastity were his sisters. They’d been through a lot together, and that was enough for him. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a close relationship with a parent, having never had one in the first place—but he figured that’s what made it worse. 
“Anyway,” she elbowed him playfully. “D’you believe me now?”
Credence nodded. She chuckled softly, taking his hand and guiding him back to the car. They continued the rest of their drive uninterrupted. It was relatively quiet aside from the few comments she made along the way. By the time they reached Pike Street, it had started to snow again. It wasn’t heavy like the days before. The snowflakes fell slowly and softly, fluttering down gracefully on the window-shield. 
The care halted to a stop on the street corner. (y/n) turned to Credence, who was already looking at her. 
“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.”
She smiled and looked down at her hands. “You don’t need to thank me,” she blushed. “I was happy to.”
“Still, I want to. Thank you, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
They regrettably said their goodbyes, something Credence hated doing because he was never sure when he’d see her again. He stepped out of the car and onto the icy street, turning to wave goodbye at her one last time before watching her drive off down and disappear behind the buildings once she rounded the corner. Credence turned on his heels and walked back to the snow-covered chapel. His feet dragged behind him to stall his arrival. He walked up the creaking steps to the door and opened it lackadaisically. 
He began stripping himself of his outerwear when he noticed another presence in the room. He looked to the stairs and found his mother, Mary Lou, sitting there. Her icy blue eyes bore into his skull. Credence got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, a vestigial remnant of primal instinct that signified impending danger. 
“Hello, Mother...” He said upon seeing her. She didn't respond. She only looked at him in a way that made him increasingly nervous. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.
“I have some good news.” His mouth began moving before he could think. “Father Blackwell said he would let you speak this Sunday. It’s towards the end of service, and he is only giving us three minutes to speak, but that’s better than nothing, right?”
“Did your jezebel tell you that?” She spoke dangerously.
Credence’s body tensed. “What are you talking about, mother?” He asked, fearful he already knew the answer.
Mary Lou opened her hand to reveal the pink handkerchief. His stomach dropped as she threw the cloth down at his feet. Mary Lou rose from the stairs, her heels thumping loudly as she climbed down.
“I saw you at the cathedral, Credence. You and your little harlot,” she said as she walked towards him. “I was on my way to speak with Father Blackwell when I saw the two of you skip outside with her clinging to your arm.”
Credence kept his head down, staring at the handkerchief by his feet. Mary Lou circled him like a vulture ready to pick at a rotting carcass.
“I always knew your flesh was weak... but I didn’t know all it took was a pair of big (e/c) eyes to make you fall from grace.”
“Mother, I—” The sound of her heavy hand slapping across his face cut his sentence short, sending him to the ground. 
“Silence!” She ordered. Credence felt tears prickling behind his eyes. He stared at the handkerchief lying pathetically on the floor. Mary Lou’s pointed black shoe came into his view and stepped on the delicate silk. Mary Lou was never one to yell, that’s what made her anger so much more terrifying. She spoke barely above a whisper, in a sickeningly sweet and proper tone, the cruel words that left her thin lips.
“The worst part of it is: you tried to hide it from me. You knew what you were doing was a sin. You knew that God was watching, and you did it anyway.”
“Mother, it’s not what you think,” Credence said through his strained tears. “I didn’t touch her!”
“Don’t lie to me, Credence, I saw the way you looked at her!” Mary Lou seethed. “You think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking in late? That I wouldn’t smell the perfume on your clothes?”
Credence fell silent, realizing that denial was futile. It didn’t matter what he said. Mary Lou had already set her mind about his relationship with (y/n). He knew it was too good to be true. He had been happy for far too long. He should have expected it wouldn’t last. He always screwed everything up somehow. This was his own fault. He deserved this.
“You know what I have to do now, don’t you?” She whispered.
Credence did know. His heart thrashed in his chest, fear coursing through his veins. “Mother, please, don’t!” he begged feebly. “I won’t see her again, I promise!”
Mary Lou kneeled in front of Credence. Her hand reached up to lift his head. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, his vision blurred from his tears. They were unfeeling and as cold as the words that left her lips. 
“I know you won’t. We’ll make sure of that.”
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More people die in winter than in any other season. That is a known fact. The blistering cold is more dangerous than the smoldering heat. During the winter, everything dies. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little.
“Credence?”
There was nothing worse than winter, he thought. There was nothing worse than being left in the cold, wet, nodding in and out of consciousness—somewhere between life and death. Maybe he was being dramatic. He’d survived this at least twice before. He will be allowed back home, eventually. He would be given a hot bath and warm clothes. He would be wrapped in a blanket and laid on his bed. He would be forgiven.
But, in this moment, he had no warmth. The clothes on his back were damp, sticking to his skin like icy sheets. His already pale skin looked almost as white as the blanket of snow that covered the city, save for the faint blue tint of his lips.
“Credence.”
At first he’d thought walking would make him warmer. Maybe if he moved his muscles, his body would produce what little heat it could. Thinking back on it now, it was a pretty stupid idea. If anything, it made it worse. The wind had picked up, and the snow fell faster than it was earlier. How long had he been out here? It could have been twenty minutes or an hour, he couldn’t tell. Time moves slower when you’re miserable. What he did know was that he had walked about four blocks from the chapel. He thought he might find a place, a warm place where he could sit and rid himself of the cold.
He’d try a tea shop, a restaurant, and a bookstore before giving up. No one would let him in. They were all closed early for the holiday season. He then became increasingly aware how late in the afternoon it was, and how much colder it would be once the sun finally set. And he would still be here, cowering in a filthy alleyway that smelled heavily of rotting food and urine.
“Credence!”
How did she always mange to find him? Her large eyes bore into his own, wide and unyielding. She was close enough that her short breaths gave him the first gust of heat he’d felt since he was thrown out of the chapel. Unlike before, it didn’t smell of coffee beans, but of the hot chocolate they had shared just hours before. If the sweet scent hadn’t filled his nose, he would have sworn she was a hallucination. This was the last place he’d expect to see her. Yet, she always had a knack for turning up in places he’d least suspect. Regardless of what she always said, it felt a little more than coincidence—something just shy of fate.
“What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” Her hands flew to his shoulders, her own body reacting to the lack of warmth jolted and shivered.
It was her kind eyes he liked the most. Her eyes had the greatest warmth, the kind that filled your chest whenever you looked at them. He could stare into them forever and never get cold. Her eyes are what he’d miss the most.
“You’re soaking wet! You’ll freeze half to death out here! Come to my car, It’ll warm you up.” She reached for his hand, but he would not give it to her.
“Go away.”
This he could not say while looking in her eyes. It would only make it harder. There was an unpleasant pause, one that continued for a second too long. Her voice, he would miss the sound of her voice as well. He wanted to remember it as best he could, even if the last words she would say to him were full of resentment.
“What?”
He turned his back to her, hiding his tears. He had to do this. It was bound to happen anyway. What was the point in watering a dead plant? The fantasy should have long since ended. It shouldn’t have begun in the first place.
“I’m fine. Just go away,” his voice was barely above a whisper.
But he wasn’t fine, and he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to follow her to the car, where she’d wrap him in the wool blanket she kept in the back seat, and she’d hold his hands to keep them warm.
She scoffed, her heels scuffing on the asphalt as she stepped back, exasperated. “Yeah, right, you’re one minute away from mummifying out here! Just get up and come with me!” She reached for him again, taking his hand. Her touch. He’ll miss her touch.
“No!” He jerked away from her gentle hands.
He didn’t need to see her face to know it hurt her. It hurt him just to say it. But he had to. He made a promise he had to keep. No matter how much it hurt. The next words to fall from his lips would be nothing but lies to mask the truth.
“I don’t need you.”
I do.
“I don’t need your help.”
Help me.
“I don’t want to see you anymore!”
Please don’t go.
Another pregnant silence. The lump in Credence’s throat was large enough to suffocate him. Every time he tried to swallow it down, it would grow bigger, prompting more tears to stain his cheeks.
“You don’t want to see me anymore?” She repeated. Her voice was as cold and steady as the snow that fell around them.
Everything dies in winter. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little. The sound of her heels knocking on the asphalt faded along with her warmth. He’d call out to her if he wasn’t a coward. He would tell her the truth and beg for her forgiveness if he had the strength. But when he couldn’t smell lavenders or vanilla, or feel her unwavering warmth, he knew that it was too late. She was gone.
He fell to the ground, burying his head in his knees to muffle his pained cries. The icy ground didn’t phase him. He felt nothing but the ache in his chest and the swell of his throat. He wondered if that pain would ever go away. Could he continue on like this? With the feeling that a part of him had been taken?
He unclenched his fist, revealing frayed pink fabric; the stitched golden letters staring back at him mockingly. It was the only surviving piece of the handkerchief his mother burned. He’d picked it from the ashes before she threw him out on the streets. The smell of ash and smoke dulled the scent of lavender and vanilla it once carried. But, if he focused hard enough, he could still smell the traces of her perfume. For now, it will be enough.
He sat in the alleyway until the early night sky replaced the setting sun. He would sit and listen to the passing cars and pedestrians in silence, until he could no longer feel the fabric in his hands, or the sting of his aching muscles. His swollen eyes grew heavy, barely staying open longer than a second. He closed them, letting his body relax and fade slowly into nothingness.
Slipping in and out of consciousness, he stayed curled in the alleyway, unaware of his surroundings. Unaware that a car had parked outside the alley entrance. Ignorant to the footsteps that neared his meek form and the shadow that loomed over him. He was oblivious to it all until he felt a weight on his head and shoulders. He pried his eyes open to find himself wrapped in a thick wool blanket.
A dainty (s/c) hand opened for him, tempting him to take it; his saving grace.
“I’m not going to leave you like this. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
Her eyes weren’t angry. They weren’t cold or full of resentment. They were as kind and warm as they always had been, perhaps even more. Her rosy lips held a gentle smile just for him.
“You don’t have to see me again after tonight,” she concurred. “But I need you to get in the car. Please, Credence. Just one more night, then you’ll never have to see me again.”
Had it been anyone else, he would have refused. The hold his mother had on him was stronger than the yearnings of his heart. His fear of her would keep him from acting on his desires—what he truly wanted. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. But now, with her hand outstretched for him to take, there was no nagging fear pulling him away. No voice in the back of his head vilifying him from acting on his whims. Because, for the first time, someone had heard what he didn’t dare to say aloud. For the first time, someone cared. 
Had it been anyone one else, he wouldn’t have taken their hand. He wouldn’t have stood from the frozen ground or walked towards their car. Anyone else, and he wouldn’t have gotten inside and felt the heat melt his frozen muscles. If it was anyone but her, he would still be wasting away in the freezing, damp alleyway. 
“Just try to relax and get warm,” she told him as they drove off. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He was far too tired. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was falling asleep. His head rested on the window, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. She took his hand that rested in his lap. It was cold to the touch, like ice, as if no blood coarsed through his veins. 
She refused to let go, instead she held it tighter. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
If he wasn’t already drifting to sleep, he would have asked where she was taking him, but his eyes refused to open, and his lips would not open to pose the question. Instead he let the motion and hum of the car lull him to sleep. 
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New York City was known for many things: its gigantic skyscrapers, the lively scene, the people. But it was easy for tourists to see what the locals could not. New York City was by no means as glorious as its reputation would like you to believe. Everything great about it was reserved for people who could afford it. Shopping, clubbing, broadway, the cinema; it was all novelty. The grit of New York City was something the average New Yorker would like to escape. If the city was as great as it was made out to be, then why did the wealthy live upstate in their palatial mansions? It’s because beyond the smog and stench of the city was fresh air, and acres of woodlands and grasslands to admire. 
That’s all Credence could see when he opened his eyes from what felt like a year’s rest. From the passenger window he could make out the shadows of tall, snow covered maples and oak trees rushing past. The road was long and winding, twisting through the scenic route with ease. 
Beyond the trees, he could make out the orange lights of houses drawing near. It wasn’t long before the trees were replaced by vast mansions with plunging yards, overly decorated for the holiday season. The drowsy fog had barely lifted from his mind to take in such a foreign sight. As his mind awoke, so did the rest of his senses. He became aware of his body, and how it was no longer cold and wet. He could feel his blood circulating in his hands and feet, allowing them to move and wiggle as he pleased. His nose was no longer stuffed, and the numbness in his face had left. 
Taking a peak through the corner of his eye, he saw her; her eyes focused on the road. The light from the passing mansions cast shadows over her features. She was otherwise relaxed, if it weren't for the faint wrinkle of her forehead, the kind that appeared when she was deep in thought. He was too afraid to say anything. Even if he wasn't, he wouldn’t know what to say. Things had happened so suddenly, he couldn’t keep up.
Instead, he kept silent and watched the houses roll by as she drove. Trapped in his thoughts, he began to realize just where she was taking him. He didn’t know why she thought to bring him here, or what she planned to do, but he concluded she was taking him to her home. He’d never been to Kings Point before and he never imagined going within his lifetime, but he could say with confidence that it did not disappoint.
Kings Point was exactly how he imagined it, save for a few minor details. Under different circumstances he would be awestricken, but tonight he didn’t have the energy for it. All he had the energy to do was count the mansions they passed in his head. It was better than thinking of the events that lead him there.
He counted seventeen pompous manors before the car’s speed gradually reduced to a cruise. He watched as a large manor with swooping gable roofs and multiple chimneys came into view. An untouched layer of snow blanketed its long front yard. Windows were plentiful, all of which were lit with those distinct orange lights.
The car pulled into the long driveway, normally protected by a gate, but tonight that gate was left open, allowing them to drive through with ease. As they drove closer to the main manor, he could see the two other sprawling houses that surrounded a large courtyard highlighting a marble fountain.
When the car came upon the front of the manor, there was a man in a black tailcoat tuxedo waiting for them. The car came to a stop, and the man came around the hood to the driver’s door.
“Miss (y/n), welcome home,” he said as he opened the door. (y/n) thanked him, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the scalloped cobblestone.  
When the door closed behind her, leaving Credence inside. The two were clearly conversing, presumably about him. She would steal a glance at him through the window a few times while she spoke. The man, who he could now see was no longer in his youth, only nodded compliantly. When the two seemed to come to an understanding, (y/n) walked around to his side of the car, opening it for him to step out.
“Follow me,” She said, taking his hand.
She wasted no time pulling him from his seat and leading him off to some side entrance of the manor. The door they entered was smaller than the wide, double-doors he saw at the front entrance. Inside was just as grand as the outside. The door they took lead to a kitchen as big as the chapel he lived in. Currently, it was packed with chefs prepping large platters of food and servers organizing the trays.
(y/n) clasped his hand tightly as they bulldozed their way through the kitchen. She apologized to the passing help, weaving her way through to the door that stood on the opposite end of the room. Credence kept his head low, allowing her to guide him. Once they reached the adjacent door, she pushed her way through, pulling him down a hallway that he could see led to a set of stairs.
They were rushing down the hall when they passed a side room they didn’t realize was occupied. Their footsteps prompted the voice of a woman to call out into the hall.
“(y/n), honey, you’re back already?”
(y/n) stopped in her tracks, cursing under her breath. She held her finger up to her lips, telling Credence to stay quiet.
“Yes.” She answered.
The woman called out again. “I thought the shops would be busy today.”
“They were.”
“Well, did you get everything you wanted?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment’s pause before the woman spoke again.
“Alright,” she said. “Don’t go picking at the food in the kitchen! You’ll just have to wait until tonight like everyone else!”
(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Alright, Mom.”
She signaled for Credence to continue walking towards the staircase as her mother continued to talk from the room.
“And once you put your gifts away, come back and help me finish arranging the poinsettias in the foyer!”
“I will!” She yelled back while pulling Credence up the stairs.
She practically dragged him down the upstairs hall and pushed him into a room, closing the door behind them. That flowery scent that was distinctly hers immediately overtook his senses. The wide, circular room was lit up by various lamps and a sparkling chandelier made of iridescent crystals that hung at its centre. The dark wood panelling of the walls contrasted the rosy accents: blush pink art deco wallpaper, tall white drapes that covered balcony doors, the various mix-match carpets that covered the wood floor like patchwork. The broad circular bed enclosed in a silky white canopy sat against the wall next to a small fireplace. On the other side was a door he assumed led to a bathroom.
(y/n) stood awkwardly by a three-mirror vanity, bashfully fiddling with a silver hairbrush. She’d shed her coat.  
“Sorry about her,” she muttered. “She gets like this around the holidays.”
It was overwhelming, being in her room. He’d barely had a moment to register all that was happening. Now that he had the chance to breathe, his anxiety got the better of him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be in the city, on his knees begging his mother to forgive him, not miles away in King’s Point; and definitely not in her bedroom.  
“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here—”
“You promised me, Credence,” she interjected, silencing him. “Please... Just let me have tonight.”
He clenched his jaw, turning his head to stare at the wall. It was better than looking in her eyes. He heard her move from the vanity. The sound of a cabinet being opened caught his attention. She had an armoire of her own, though hers was grander than his. It towered over her, composed of white and gold painted wood. From inside, she retrieved a blueberry colored suit. Credence recognized it as the suit she eyed in the window the week before. 
“I got you something,” she said, placing the suit on the bed, along with a fresh pair of brown oxfords. “I know you told me not to... but I just couldn’t help myself.”
Credence walked to the edge of the bed, brushing the material with his fingers. She got this for him.  
She moved to a dresser, where she pulled a neatly folded white towel and cloth from the drawer. She walked back to his side, holding the towels out for him to take.
“There's a bathroom behind that door. You can take a bath and get yourself ready. I’ll come back once I’ve finished helping my mother.”
He took the towels from her hands, leaning towards the idea of a bath. His body still hadn’t completely warmed from the ride, and his clothes still stuck uncomfortably to his skin. She left him alone in her bedroom, closing the door behind her as she left.
Credence stayed by her bed even after she had left. He took the suit into his hands. The material was thick and soft. He could tell by the fine stitches it was of high quality, unlike the suit he currently wore. He collected the pants and shoes in his arms and walked to the bathroom door. Much like the bedroom, her bathroom was big. A porcelain bathtub resting on top of golden legs facing a large window that looked over one of the gardens. Credence walked across the mosaic floor and turned the knob of the tub. Hot water rushed from the faucet and filled the tub. Steam rose into the air, forging the mirror above the sink. He placed his clothes on a stool away from the tub so it wouldn’t get wet.
Stripping himself of his clothes, he dipped his foot into the warm water. Pleased by the feeling of the hot water heating his skin, he pulled the rest of his body into the tub and submerged himself until only his head remained above water. He sat in the water unmoving for a while with his eyes closed. The water relaxed his tense muscles, ridding his body of the prickling cold. As he sat there, resting his head against the edge of the tub, he thought about how long this would last. Why did she bring him here? 
Credence opened his eyes and found a rectangular bar of soap sitting on the tub’s edge. He lifted his hand from the water and took it, bringing it to his nose. Lavenders. 
He really shouldn’t be here. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that was sure something would go wrong. His mind went back to what she’d said. He promised her he would stay with her tonight. He supposed he did, even if he hadn't explicitly say the words ‘I promise’. Taking her hand was more than an answer. 
But he had made another promise—a promise to someone he never dared to disobey so brazenly. He promised he would never see her again, to wipe her from his life and pretend like she never existed. And yet, here he was, laying in her bathtub, washing himself with her soap, wearing the clothes she bought him, and standing in her room. 
Credence stared at himself in the mirror by the armoire, now dressed in the blueberry suit she’d given him. It fit perfectly, as though it were made for him. It probably was. The shoes on his feet were comfortable. At first, he didn’t think they would fit; they were much larger than the pair of shoes he always wore. But after he pulled his socks up and slid his foot inside, he realized it wasn't that the shoes were too big, but his were a size too small. He could walk in them without his toes uncomfortably pressing against the tip. His toes could breathe and soles of his feet didn’t ache with every step. 
He almost didn't recognize his reflection. It was like another person was staring at him in the mirror. He looked like one of the men he admired in Times Square. The handsome scholars who came down from The Eggs to frequent the speakeasies to unwind after a long day of doing whatever rich boys do. He looked like the kind of man she belonged with.
A knock came from beyond the door.  “Are you decent?” Her muffled voice called from behind it. 
The door opened, and she peaked her head inside, meeting his eyes immediately.
“I knew it’d look good on you,” She smiled brightly, making her way towards him. “Does it fit nicely? I tried my best to guess your measurements. I was afraid it would be a bit off.”
He let her place her hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric of any wrinkles. His heart beat in his chest loudly, like it always did when she got this close. He watched her closely as she looked him over, avoiding his eyes. Her hands flew up to the black tie around his neck. 
“Your tie is a bit crooked.” She chuckled softly, taking the tie into her hands. “Let me.”
“Why are you nice to me?” He spoke lowly as she untied the knot. 
She furrowed her brows, her hands halting. “I’m sorry?”
“Most people would have ignored me had they saw me lying on the streets like I was today, and the day we met. Many people did. But you...” Credence struggled to find the words. “You helped me after I had fallen and dropped my papers, then you drove me home. The other week you insisted on buying me a coat, even though I told you I was fine without one, and then you took me to that restaurant. And then today, you convinced Father Blackwell to let my mother speak. You’ve been kind to me without even knowing me. Why?”
(y/n) lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Do I need a reason?” She countered. “Can’t I just want to?”
When he didn’t answer, she understood that wouldn’t be enough. She sighed, focusing her attention back on the tie. 
“Why did I do those things?” She bit her cheek in thought. “The night we met, I saw what that jerk did and wanted to help you. You looked so... sad. People walked over you—ignored you. It was like you didn’t exist, like I was the only one who saw you. I didn’t like it—seeing you like that. I just thought it would be nice to see a smile on your face. Maybe if I saw you smile, it would make me feel better.”
“Now that I’ve seen your smile, I’ve become a bit fond of it. Addicted is probably the better word. After seeing you smile for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to see it all the time. If stuffing you full of burgers and teaching you how to skate put a smile on your face, I would do it. I would do anything to keep you smiling.”
She looped the tail of the tie and pulled the knot, tightening it around his neck. She adjusted his collar and let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. 
“So, I guess the answer to your question is: I did those things because I like you.”
Credence swallowed the lump rising in his throat, sending it back down to his chest. His eyes glistened in the light, glazed with rising tears. His heart ached in his chest, still hanging on to her words. ‘Like’? She liked him?
“And now?” His voice cracked. “Do you still fell that way? Even after the things I said?”
“Why did you say those things?” It was clear she had been wanting to ask this for a while. “Did I do something—say something to upset you?”
Credence vigorously shook his head. “No!” 
He clasped her hands tightly, taking her by surprise. “It’s not you,” he tried to explain. “It was never you.”
She held his hands just as tight, like she was afraid he would fade away if she let go. “Then?”
He swallowed again, looking down at his feet. “It’s my mother... she...” 
(y/n) frowned. She lifted Credence’s hand, turning his palm upward to expose the raised scars on his palms. 
“Was she the one who did this to you?” She whispered, though it sounded as if she already knew the answer. 
Credence stayed silent. He didn’t have the strength to say it out lout. 
“Did she leave you out on the street?” She asked, anger rising in her voice. 
“She doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” He muttered, shamefully. 
“Is that what you want?” 
Credence stilled. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted. They locked eyes, (y/n)’s stared deeply into his, yearning for an answer. He barely opened his mouth to answer when a knock came from beyond the door, the person behind it bursting into the room. 
(y/n) dropped his hands, turning to face the culprit.
“Aaron, how many times have I told you to wait for me to answer before coming in my room?”
Aaron was a stocky man, just a few inches shorter than Credence. His angular face was covered with a tapered beard. He had the same (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair as (y/n), but his eyes were a light brown. He wore a black formal tuxedo with a matching bowtie. The smile on his face fell slightly as he looked between her and Credence. 
“Sorry sis, I didn’t realize you had company.”
(y/n) sighed, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”
Tearing his eyes from Credence, Aaron turned his attention to his sister, his smile widening. “I just thought you might like to say hello to someone.”
(y/n) raised a curious brow. “Who?”
The answer to her question walked in not a second later, dressing in a black fitted full dress tuxedo. He too shared a similar complexion to (y/n) and Aaron, but unlike Aaron, his eyes were the same has hers. He smiled, displaying a row of perfectly straight white teeth. “Hey. Did you miss me, street rat?”
(y/n)’s eyes widened, “Channing?”
Channing chuckled as she sped towards him. “The one and only—Ow!”
(y/n) had punched him hard in the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?!”
Aaron snickered to the side. “Told you she would do that.”
“Well, that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, now wouldn't it?” He said, clutching his sore shoulder. “Can’t you act like a normal sister and be happy I’m back?”
“I am happy, you jerk,” she smiled, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back gladly. It was clear the two missed each other greatly. 
“(y/n), who’s this?” Channing asked, looking over her shoulder at Credence.  
(y/n) too looked over her shoulder, her lips still holding her elated smile. “Aaron, Channing, this is Credence. He’s my plus one for tonight.”
“Right.” Aaron skeptically squinted at Credence. “And do Mom and Dad know that you have a boy in your room?”
(y/n) placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. Do Mom and Dad know about you and Mr. Finnegan’s daughter?” She deflected with a glare. 
Aaron cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around his younger brother and pushing him towards the door. “We’ll see you downstairs.”
“Wait,” (y/n) went to grab Credence by the hand and pulled him towards her brothers.  “Why don’t you show Credence around? You can bond and do whatever boys do while I get ready.”
They all looked at Credence, who was too petrified to protest the proposition. Aaron gave Credence a look that made him think he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but kept his otherwise cheerful smile. 
“I don’t see why not,” said Channing kindly, flashing an inviting grin much like the one (y/n) had given him many times before. He was starting to see the similarities between the two. 
“Yeah, come on, Credence,” Aaron agreed, throwing his free arm around Credence’s shoulder. “Hang with us guys for a while, we’re much more fun than she is.”
(y/n) rolled her eyes, escorting the men out of her bedroom. Credence’s pleading eyes silently asked for her not to leave him on his own, but she said nothing to stop them. She only gave him a comforting smile from the doorframe as they pulled him from the door. 
“I’ll see you in a bit.” She promised. 
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Aaron and Channing dragged Credence down the hall, guiding him to another set of stairs. Unlike the ones (y/n) had sneaked him up an hour before, these stairs weren’t hidden in a corner at the end of the hall. It was a grand bifurcated staircase, with wide, velvet-clad sweeping steps that plunged into a wide landing that split in two directions: upwards to another wing of the manor, and downwards to the foyer. He could hear the music and babbling chatter clearly from the top of the staircase. The two brothers led him down the many steps, and again down the steps to the foyer where a great crowd of well-dressed men and women conversed under dropping garlands and mistletoe.
Without warning, they pulled him into the crowd, weaving their way through fur shawls and padded tuxedos. Tucked away in a corner of the room, Credence saw something he’d least expected: a familiar face. 
There, resting against a paneled wall, was Edmund Tully, drinking from a half finished glass of brandy. His eyes were distant and seemed to dart around the room, looking for something or someone. He wasn’t entirely sure if Edmund found what he was looking for, because when Aaron had called out to him, he gave up on his previous endeavor. 
It appeared that Edmund was not only friendly with Aaron, but Channing as well. They greeted each other as old friends do, with open arms, harmless roughhousing. Credence stood idly by, feeling out of place. It was only when Edmund set his green on him that Credence was pulled into their circle. Aaron noticed his friend’s stare and pointed his attention towards him. 
Aaron gestured to Credence, snapping his fingers. “Eds, this is uh—this is—give me a second—”
“Credence,” Edmund made up for Aaron’s forgetfulness. “Am I right? We met before.”
Aaron and Channing looked between the two unlikely acquaintances. “You have?” The eldest brother asked. 
Credence nodded, confirming Edmund’s claim. 
“Through (y/n), of course,” Edmund clarified. 
“I see,” Aaron hummed. 
A server in a tight vest came up the group of men with a tray full of glasses filled with a pinkish liquid. Credence watched as they each took a glass from the tray. 
“Do you drink, Credence?” Asked Channing, noticing Credence’s empty hand. 
“Sure he does!” Aaron exclaimed, taking an extra glass and shoving a it into Credence’s unsuspecting hand. “It’s Christmas!”
Giving into the pressure of the situation, Credence accepted the drink. It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done today. The gentleman made a simple Christmas toast, before taking their own respectable gulps. 
Credence brought the glass to his lips, letting the strange liquid slow past his lips and hit his tongue. Somehow the cold liquid felt like heat on his tongue, vibrating down his throat and spreading that warmth into his chest. It was a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. While it was strong with alcohol, the sugary sweet after-taste made it palatable. He took another sip. 
Credence found Aaron and Channing to be decent men. Channing was more friendly to Credence that Aaron, but it had more to due with the age difference and the extenuating circumstances in which they’d met. He supposed it must have been hard warming up to the strange man who was found alone in your younger sister’s room. 
Edmund on the other hand didn’t address him much at all, only speaking to him when obligated. He had the sneaking suspicion that Edmund didn’t like him at all. Credence could care less. To be fair, Credence wasn’t sure he liked him either. 
Like (y/n) had asked, the two brothers, along with Edmund, showed Credence around the mansion. They took him upstairs and downstairs, through long halls and into opulent rooms that were also filled with partygoers. All the while, they continued to keep a full glass in their hands. Credence had drank four full glasses of pink drink by the time they circled back to the foyer—and they hadn’t even venture half of the vast manor. He wasn’t fully convinced that just one family lived in such a palace. 
They loitered the foyer, the music in the next room traveled well, distracting him from the conversation he wasn’t completely involved in. His eyes darted around the room, glossing over the painted and shaven faces of the other guests. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it—or rather— her. 
Descending from the heavens that was the staircase landing was her elegant figure, clothed in a velvety red dress that hung off her shoulders. Her hair fell in waves around her face, adorned with pins that resembled holly. The long pointed sleeves clung to her skin along with the rest of the dress, hugging her figure dangerously. He was the first to see her, and in parallel, she saw him first; her painted red lips curling into a wide grin once their eyes met. 
His chest was filled with a fluttering excitement as his eyes followed her movements drawing nearer. She walked straight towards him, bowing her head shyly as she got closer. The others noticed her too, hooting and hollering as she came, embarrassing her more. 
“The Princess has finally decided grace the party with her presence,” Aaron playfully jeered. 
“It’s not easy being the most attractive in the family, it takes a lot of work to look this good,” She bantered. 
“Tons of it, if you ask me,” Channing muttered snidely as he took a sip of his drink, causing a fit of harmless laughter between all of them but Credence. 
“You look amazing,” Edmund complimented over the giggles. 
(y/n) thanked him, her eyes drifting back to Credence expectingly. Flustered, Credence sputtered the first words that came to mind. “You look beautiful, you always do.”
(y/n) blushed, her girlish smile reaching her ears. Her brothers found the interaction equally amusing, stifling their laughter. Though Edmund didn’t find it so amusing, his once joyous expression faltering. 
“I have to steal my brothers for a moment,” (y/n) revealed. 
“What for?” Channing asked, unaware that he was needed. 
“Mom wants to see us all for a portrait. You were supposed to have been there by now. Daddy’s getting restless,” she told them.
Aaron cursed under his breath, having forgotten about the detail. He turned to his friend and handed him his drink. “It will only be a minute.”
Aaron and Channing hurried off towards the stairs whence (y/n) had come. Before she left, she met Credence’s eye. “Just wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back.” 
She then disappeared up the stairs with her brothers, leaving him alone with Edmund. And then there were two. 
“Why don’t I show you to the gardens,” Edmund suggested after an awkward beat of silence. 
Credence didn’t get the chance to deny the offer before Edmund turned on his heels and headed towards the door, beckoning him to follow. Out of pure obligation, Credence followed, venturing from the manor and out into the cold (though the consistent warm buzzing in his head and chest kept him warm enough). 
Edmund guided Credence around to the main garden that sat in the center of the sprawling houses. Snow covered the hedges and statues that scattered the grounds. 
“Where are you from, Credence?” Edmund asked suddenly as they walked the garden path. 
Credence shrugged his shoulders. “Here.” 
“No, you’re not,” he said. “You might be from New York, but you’re not from here.”
Credence’s brow furrowed. What was he playing at?
“How did you meet (y/n)?” He pestered. 
“In Times Square,” Credence answered. “She helped me when I fell on the street. We kept running into each other ever since.”
Credence wasn’t sure why he was telling him all this, but he felt if he wanted to know, why not tell him? 
“You know, it's charming,” said Edmund. “How you’re sweet on (y/n). It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like a little puppy dog. It’s almost endearing. But it’s pointless.”
“Pointless?” Credence repeated. 
Edmund stared blankly at the younger boy. A sly smirk teetered on his lips.  “Oh, come on. Do you... Do you actually think you have a chance with her?”
Credence’s silence only amused him more, spurring him to laugh tauntingly. “Oh my God, you do! I almost feel bad for you!” It was only now that Credence noticed the subtle slur of his words. “Listen, mate, I’m only saying this because I feel like we could be friends. It's not going to happen. (y/n) is a sweet girl, almost too sweet. She’s oblivious to these kinds of things, you see?” He leaned against a stone post.
“How should I explain this? I’ve watched her grow up, and I have seen many young chaps like you fall all over her. She doesn’t realize her kindness attracts people. There have been many broken hearts left at her feet. You don’t want yours added to the pile, trust me.”
Yes, Credence decided in that moment he didn’t like Edmund at all. He took too much of a likeness to Ripley; they had the same condescending leer. The buzzing of his head wouldn’t allow him to hide his obvious disdain, and for the first time Credence would speak his mind, unafraid of the consequences. 
“Is yours one of them?” He asked boldly. 
“Excuse me?”
“Your heart,” he reiterated. “Is it one of the ones she broke?”
“I—”
“Do you feel threatened by me? Are you afraid that she might not like you as much as you think?” 
“What did you just say to me?” Edmund sputtered. 
Credence continued, feeling no shame for what he was about to slur and stutter. “She’s only nice to you because you’re friends with her brother and she’s known you for so long. But that isn’t enough to win her affection. Deep down, you know that.”
Edmund took Credence by the collar, “I suggest you stop talking,” he whispered dangerously. 
“You say that I don’t have a chance, then what do you have?” Credence chuckled provokingly. “She said she likes me. Has she ever said she likes you?”
“You don’t know a damn thing!” Yelled Edmund, red in the face. “To her, you’re just a pet. A sad little puppy she has to take care of. She’ll give you treats and dress you up like a doll, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll never see you as a man.”
“Is this what you do?” Asked Credence. “You drive away any person who you think might come between you and (y/n)? There’s nothing to come between. She’s not yours. She never was. And she’s not mine either. I don’t care if she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That doesn’t matter. But she said she liked me... and I like her.” Credence smiled. “And that is more than anything you’ll ever have with her.”
A powerful fist collided with his left cheek, sending him to the ground. The pleasing buzz in his head was replaced with rushing blood pounding against his temple. 
“I told you to stop talking,” the assailant heaved. 
Credence struggled to his hands and knees. The punch left a metallic taste in his mouth, and a bubbling rage in his stomach. Without thinking, he lunged forward, tackling Edmund to the ground. The two fell in a heap on the cobblestone, wrestling and thrashing violently. Credence got the upper-hand, landing a satisfying punch in the face, leaving Edmund with a bloodied nose. It didn’t last, because as soon as Credence wrestled his way on top, he was back under him, taking blows to the face and ribs. 
He couldn’t react fast enough to defend himself, and honestly, it was a miracle he landed a punch in the first place. He curled into himself to protect his face and ribs. The same vibrating rage he felt earlier that same day with Ripley danced under his skin. His thoughts faded in and out between consciousness, each unfamiliar thought being one of violence and rage. Pure, dark rage. 
Edmund may have got a peak at this entity—a glimpse into it’s glassy white eyes. If he had, he didn't say so. He only hesitated, a look of both confusion and fear flashing over his once blinding anger when their eyes locked. If he had seen those shining white eyes, they disappeared as soon as they came, her voice retreating the beast inside. 
“EDDY! CREDENCE! STOP IT!”
It was a trick of the lights, Edmund would later conclude. A figment of his drunken imagination. But it wasn’t true. The truth was Credence had a part of himself he couldn’t control—a part of himself that could destroy buildings and uproot roads—a part of him he couldn’t control, that is, until he met her. Until the sound of her sweet voice reached his ears and calmed the blackness to its dormant state.  
Edmund was pulled off of him, pushed several feet back while she dove for him on the ground, dirtying her red dress. The light from the lamppost and house gave the illusion that she glowed in the night.
Her eyes were big with worry. “Credence, are you okay? Does it hurt?” She helped him sit up, taking his face gently in her hands. It didn’t hurt. He couldn't feel anything but her warm hands caressing his cheeks. 
“I’m hurt too, (y/n),” Edmund croaked from his place. Aaron and Channing were there, barricading him away. “I got hit too. Why don’t you ask me if I’m okay? Huh?!”
(y/n) glared back at him. “You’re drunk!”
Edmund’s red face became wet with hot, angry tears. “WHY DON’T YOU ASK ME, (Y/N)?! DON’T YOU LIKE ME TOO?”
She held on to Credence's arm, holding him close. “I think you should go,” she muttered. 
Edmund sniffed, a look of pure heartbreak slapping over his chiseled features. “(y/n)...” He called for her one last desperate time, but she turned away, shutting him out completely. 
“Come on, man,” Aaron said sternly, pushing him back. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”
“GET OFF ME!” Edmund pushed Aaron away from him, staggering backward. He took one last long look at (y/n), hoping that she would look at him again. But she didn't. Her eyes stayed trained on Credence. He stepped back, defeated. 
“I can walk by my bloody self,” he slurred bitterly, retreating further into the garden, Aaron chasing after him. 
“Can you stand up?” (y/n) asked softly, taking Credence by the hand and pulling him to his feet. 
Channing helped as well, guiding them both back into the house. They stayed away from the festivities, taking the hidden stairs back up to her room. Channing had retrieved a medical kit after they reached her room, leaving once (y/n) insisted she could care for Credence on her own. 
Now, he sat next to her on her bed, while she shifted through the medical kit. His eyes trained on a young, black, hairless cat played curled up in a stuffed bed by the fire. This must’ve been the cat she had told him about. 
“Do you mind telling me what that was about or are you just going to stay silent?” Asked after the long silence. 
“It was nothing,” he told her, as she took his face in her hands to examine the wounds on his cheek and lip. 
“Yeah, right.” She muttered, taking a wet cotton swab and dabbing it on his scraped cheek. It burned, causing him to wince. She stopped immediately, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”
She went for the medical kit again, rummaging through it messily before stopping abruptly.
“You know what, I’m not sorry! Serves you right worrying me like that! I leave you for one minute and you’re picking fights in the street! Just look what he’s done to your face!” She cupped the side of his face where Edmund had punched him. She sighed, taking another cotton swab from the kit. 
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell. I don’t like seeing you hurt is all.”
He looked at her deeply through lidded eyes as she dabbed the cut on his lip. 
“We were fighting about you,” he confessed.
She stopped, her eyes flickered to his for a moment, before focusing back on his lip. “Me? Why on Earth would you be fighting about me?”
He didn’t say. She waited for an answer, but soon concluded she wouldn’t get one. He hissed when she began applying cream on his cuts. “Fine, then,” she mumbled irritably. “Don’t answer me. Just hold still—”
His lips were on hers before she could finish her harping. The swab fell from her hand in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. He was kissing her. His eyes were closed, his lips plush against hers. He ignored the sting of his cut as he pressed his lips onto hers like he’d seen couples do many times before. His heart pounded in his ears. He would have kept kissing her if he hadn’t held his breath for too long. When they parted, and he opened his eyes to see her staring, awestruck. 
His ears turned red, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over him, realizing what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have—”
Her soft lips crashed into his with passionate force, her hands flying to caress the nape of his neck. Now, it was his turn to be taken aback. Credence had kissed her how shy young couples do: pressing his lips onto hers. But she kissed him like lovers do, moving her lips feverishly against his, licking his lips coyly with her tongue. Imitating her actions, Credence let his eyes fall shut, opening his mouth for her. Her tongue slipped passed his lips and swirled around his, welcoming the foreign sensation.
“(y/n)...” He whimpered out of pure instinct. 
She pulled away, leaving him a blushing, panting mess. 
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my name,” she whispered. A smile stretched across her lips.  “Say it again.”
Credence’s cheeks burned, but he gladly did what she asked. 
“... (y/n),” he called her name again.
“Again.”
“(y/n),” he repeated.
“Credence,” she whispered his name, sending shivers down his spine.
“(y/n),” he whispered breathlessly. 
“Credence.”
“(y/n).”
She captured his lips in another sensual kiss, pushing him back onto the bed. The medical kit fell to the ground, forgotten. She laid on top of him, her legs wrapped around his thin waist, pressing her body against his like he’d imagined many times before. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind consumed by her. Lavender and vanilla, it was all around him; pressing against him, kissing him, caressing him.
“Credence,” she said between fiery kisses. “I want you.”
“Y-You want me?” He flushed, making her giggle. 
“Yes,” she chuckled, taking his hand. “Do... Do you want me too?” Her voice was small and unsure. 
Credence nodded, lacing his fingers between hers. “I’ll always want you.”
His words seemed to spur her on, reviving her confidence. “Is this okay?”
The touch of her hand on his thigh traveled down to his waist, sending shivers up his spine. The beat of his heart pulsed powerfully in his chest, ringing in his ears. He watched expectantly as she drew nearer, hovering over him. One of her hands rose to tenderly cup his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm against him. The way she touched him was unlike any other. She was always so gentle with him, so kind. 
Their lips were mere inches apart. So close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. She looked at him through hooded lids, her eyes darkened to a deep shade of (e/c).
Credence swallowed. “I...I’ve never...”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” 
She grinned, kissing his lips tenderly to calm his nerves. He felt her fingers move to unbutton his suit jacket. She pulled it off his shoulders, discarding it to the floor.
“Just relax,” she cooed. “I’ll take care of you.”
His black tie slipped off with ease, the buttons of his white dress shirt opened one by one the sound of fabric rubbing against each other and sultry sighs filling their ears. His shirt joined the jacket onto the ground, leaving him half-naked under her. He felt exposed, his eyes nervously fidgeting around the room. 
Her warm hands grazed the sides of his waist, delicately dancing up to his chest. She noticed the change in his breathing, his chest rising up and down in anticipation. He’d never been touched like this by anyone, not once. But now, as her hands glossed over his torso causing goosebumps to rise even though his skin was burning hot, he realized he wanted to be touched by her all the time, in every way. He wanted to kiss her over and over again; to feel her lips against his. He wanted to be close to her in the closest way possible.
As if answering his silent prayers, she pressed her chest against his, her breath tickling his cheeks. She kisses the mark on his cheekbone tenderly, then the corner of his lips, then his jaw. His eyes lull back. He let his head fall to the side, presenting his neck to her. Her hot breath on his neck excited him. Her lip pressed soft kisses down his jaw and neck, marking him with her red lipstick. Her wet tongue licked a stripe up his jugular, and he made a sound he’d only made once before in the confines of his room. 
She did it again, licking, sucking, and biting at the sensitive flesh of his neck. Credence bit his lip, muffling his desperate mewls. 
Her lips kissed up to the spot just under his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “No one else can hear us. It’s just me.” 
Hoping to drive out more sweet moans, she sucked on the flesh of his neck she learned to be the most sensitive. His hips bucked upwards, grinding between her legs. He squirmed pathetically under her, his desperate pants and moans filling the room. 
His body was sensitive to her every touch, each kiss sending jolts of electricity through his body. She left love bites on the expanse of his neck and collarbone, coloring his pale skin purple and mauve. 
She caught his lips in another open-mouthed kiss, assaulting his mouth with his tongue at her pleasure. 
“Is... C-Can I touch you?” He asked through her kisses. 
She pulled away, her nose brushing against his. “Always,” she breathed. 
His hands daringly glided over her arms, reaching around her back. His fingers found the zipper to her dress and pinched, pulling it down her back until it stopped at her waist. She slid out of the dress with ease, slipping it off her body and letting it pool around her waist. His eyes glued to her bare chest, turning red from the neck up. She took his hands and guided them up her sides, outlining her feminine curves. 
She brought his hands to cup her breasts. His touch was hot on her skin, her own blush burning undeneath. He could feel her heart pounding wildly in his chest, and he knew she was just as excited as him. He let his body act on its own, his hands massaging her breasts. She let out a shaky breath, her mouth falling open. 
He continued, brushing his thumbs against her hardened nipples. Her hips rocked sensually against his twitching member. Her name slipped past his lips, his eyes trained on her figure above him. Her hands pressed on his chest, her hips moving in circles over him. Credence sat himself up, snaking his arms around her hips, gripping them firmly. They stared at each other breathlessly through half-lidded eyes. Credence’s already dark eyes turned to black pools reflecting in the moonlight. 
He mimicked her affections, placing chaste kisses under her jaw. He kissed the expanse of her neck, tasting her soft skin. He pulled her hips into him, guiding her movements in his lap. His length strained against his trousers, aching to be touched. 
“You said you want to touch me, right?” She panted. “Touch me here.”
She moved his right hand from her hip, slipping it under the velvety veil that covered where she wanted him most. He could feel her through thin lacy fabric, her heat already slick with arousal. He experimentally rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, studying the twitches and jolts of her body. She seemed to really enjoy when his fingers brushed against a certain spot, so he kept his attention there, rubbing steady circles around the sensitive area. 
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her head falling to rest in the crook of his neck. He enjoyed hearing her high-pitched moans, even as they were muffled against his neck. He pressed harder, picking up his pace to hear more. Her hips jut against his hand, jerking every so often. Her breaths quickened, and she whimpered his name in his ear. 
“Faster,” she’d pant desperately, her grip on his shoulders tightening. 
He did, circling his fingers as best he knew how. Her thighs tightened around his legs, her body stilled but he didn't stop. Only when he felt her body shake and relax against him did he stop, her sweet satisfied moan reaching his ears. 
He held her in his arms, peppering kisses on her shoulder and neck as she steadied her breathing. When she did lift her head from his neck, she pecked his lips and cheek. She held his face in her hands and moved to lie on her back, pulling him down in the process. 
He planted his hands on either side of her head. He admired her from above. Her red lipstick was faded, smudged messily on her chin, having been transfered on his own lips and neck. She didn’t break eye contact as her hands unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down his waist and kicking them off with her feet along with his boxers. They lingered like that, just staring and admiring one another. He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt strangely calm. The rest of the world seemed to float away. Nothing else mattered. Not the party down stairs, or the people laughing and drinking. Not Edmund and his jealousy, and not his mother and her vilification. Nothing mattered but her and him together in this room, together in her bed. 
He bent down to kiss her with all the passion and love he could muster. She was everything he could ever want and more. She was his saving grace, his goddess. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. ‘Closer,’ he thought. He needed to be closer to her.
Their lips and hips magnetized, their bodies melded together. He whispered her name like a mantra because he knew she liked hearing it as much as he liked saying it. He felt her hands slip between their bodies, grasping his length. She guided him to where she needed him, his tip pressing teasingly at her entrance. With her help, he eased inside, feeling her wrap tightly around him. They sighed in each others mouth, devouring their intoxicated moans. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him further. 
She opened for him like a flower in bloom. His hips moved without having to think. Being with her felt so natural. Every move he made came to him like second nature. His thrusts were slow and gentle, drawing wanton moans from her lips. Her hips rocked into him with equal fervor. She collected his moans with her kiss, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair. 
He lost himself in the feeling of her, his pace quickening. He watched her pretty face morph into varying expressions of pleasure, each thrust of his hips creating a new one. He’d never felt so good in his life. His body tingled and his skin burned pleasantly. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such pure, utter euphoria. 
He fisted the rosy silk sheets, his breath stopping in his throat. She tightened around him, and like a wave crashing down on a cliff side, he came. His body vibrated and twitched above her. He called her name into the air, his spastic thrusts edging her to her end, which—by the sounds of her shameless cries—was as powerful and illustrious as his. 
There was a moment of stillness; a moment in which they heard nothing but their shallow breaths and the crackle of the fire. They could do nothing but stay in their connected position with eyes locked. Credence fell to his side next to her on the bed. His muscles ached and his skin was slick with sweat, but he was filled with unwavering adulation. Eyes still locked, they said so much without needing to say anything at all. His hand found hers, lacing his fingers between her small ones.
They laid there, staring lovingly in each other’s eyes for what felt like hours. He silently adored her, memorizing the details of her features until his eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, slowly falling shut as graceful as the falling snow outside.  
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Credence pried open his tired eyes. The fire still burned beside him. It crackled and danced, keeping the exhausted pair warm under the thin sheets. The moonlight broke through the balcony glass door and cast shadows of the curtains across the room. There was no music heard from downstairs and the manor outside sounded empty of all festivities. 
He took the time to embrace her presence. She laid on her side, facing him. Her eyes were still shut, soft snores falling from her lips. She held his hand between their bodies. Her thick (h/c) hair sprawled wildly around her, messed by their passionate love affair. And still, even with her hair a mess, and the corner of her lips wet with drool, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He reached his free hand to brush the fray hairs from her eyes, watching her lips twitch and curl into a sleepy smile when his thumb brushed against her cheek. That smile alone rid his mind of any and all doubts that still lingered. 
There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive, and when they weren't, they were bleak and agonizing. He’d been through it many times before, taking in so much pain he thought death was a kinder fate. But, as he lay next to her, listening to her slow steady breaths, watching the rise and fall of her chest while she slept; he knew he would face it all again, if it meant he could have more of these moments with her.  
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15-dogs · 4 years ago
Text
hugger |n.s.|
pairing: newt scamander x reader
summary: you begin to develop feelings for newt, your employer, and accidentally do the one thing he hates: hugs (super super fluffy! pining, friends to lovers, takes place in between fbawtft and fb:tcog)
warnings: extremely minimal swearing, getting injured (nothing serious!), a niffler giving birth (?)
guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = flashback
word count: 2.1K
a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb LMAO i rewatched fantastic beasts and unearthed my 8th grade crush on him which gave me this as a product! i hope you like it!!
“Denied again?” you asked Newt. He gave you a curt nod as he paced towards the Kelpie pool. 
You frowned; he always seemed to get quieter after he returned from the Ministry. It had been his third attempt to regain his international passport and, of course, his third run in with his brother, Theseus. And you knew how complicated their relationship was. Newt never really talked about Theseus, except for the offhand comments he would make about him.
So far, all you had gathered about the mysterious Scamander was that he was tall, an Auror, and quite the hugger. You nearly burst out laughing when Newt had mentioned that last little fact about his brother as if it were reason enough to dislike him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Scamander, but that just doesn’t seem like something to hate a person over.”
Newt exhaled in quiet laughter as he pet a Mooncalf, grabbing some treats from the bucket he held. He flashed a kind smile at the Mooncalf before turning off and dropping the bucket to the ground, staring you down from across his basement.
“You haven’t met Theseus, then.”
Newt refused to meet your eyes as he joined you in caring for the Leucrotta. You chewed your lip— perhaps you were making a mistake, talking to him so plainly. He was your employer, after all. You weren’t there to help him make nice with his older brother.
Yet, you continued to speak as if you were a personal acquaintance of his. “What I’m trying to say is you’re an incredibly kind, sweet person, Mr. Scamander.” 
That got his attention. His head slowly raised to meet yours, and when he saw you were already looking at him, he looked away. But that did not deter you. 
“You refer to yourself as these creatures’ mother!” you announced with playful exasperation. That got to him, a soft, harmonic chuckle escaping his lips. “You have such a big heart. I suppose I’m just a little shocked that hugging is the disqualifier.”
Newt’s smile faded as he processed your words. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, thick with emotion. He then shook his head as if it would drive the feelings away, pointing you off towards another creature in need of care.
“Well, what are you going to do?” you prodded, making your way beside him. “Try again?”
“Yes,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug, “that’s exactly what I plan on doing. And I’ll keep at it until I get that ban lifted.”
You snorted. “I can see why you were a Hufflepuff— dedication like no other, Mr. Scamander.” 
Newt glanced up at you with a lopsided grin that had your stomach flipping for a moment. The tips of your ears began to heat up and you prayed to Merlin that your hair covered them.
You had known for a while that you had feelings for Newt. It started cultivating inside you with every adoring smile, every impassioned statement, every quiet appraisal. It had soon grown too big to go unnoticed and you knew you were in far too deep.
“Quiet now, quiet now,” Newt whispered to the little Bowtruckle, “mum’s here.”
You were padding down the steps from his apartment, reading the instructions on the back of a potion vile. He had advised you to get it from his medicine cabinet for your headache but you weren’t entirely sure that you picked up the right one.
“Mr. Scamander…” your voice trailed off at the sight of his maternal tendencies.
“I know, I know,” he cooed, “but change can be a good thing. On you hop.” He continued to pet the small and pouty thing before placing it into the makeshift nest he had created, where it was welcomed by the rest of its friends.
That small moment, seemingly insignificant, had caused you to completely fall for Newt. His soft, green eyes fell upon you with a gentle, questioning look at the potion you held. You nodded, answering his silent question without actually telling the truth because, if Newt could be as seemingly perfect as he was day in and day out, you could suffer with a headache for one day.
“Prepare the ointment, please.”
You raised the large container of ointment that you had mixed together in preparation for Newt’s return. “Don’t have to ask me twice, Mr. Scamander.”
He nodded his head towards a desk where you placed the container down. 
Newt began to take off his trademark royal blue coat, flinging it onto a desk as he conversed with you about your work. “How has Molly been?”
You eyed the pregnant Niffler which was milling about in its cage. “Quite well, actually. She’s due any day now.”
“And the other Nifflers?”
“Niffler-y, as always,” you joked, earning a smile from the sandy haired man before you.
“Lovely.” Newt finally turned around, examining your state. “You’ll join me, won’t you? Kelpie’s are easier with two people.”
“Right, yes, of course.”
“Brilliant.”
You undid the buttons on your blouse with haste so that you stood in your pants and camisole, pulling your hair from your eyes as you prepared to hop into the pool. It wasn’t like it was the first time you’d done this, but each time had your nerves thrumming with anxieties that something would go wrong.
You spun around as you took a step towards the edge of the pool, standing shoulder to shoulder with Newt. He extended his hand without looking down, taking yours in his perfectly rough ones, your mouth instantly going dry. Newt looked over at you, so incredibly close that your noses nearly brushed against one another. He nodded and so did you, both hopping backwards into the pool.
Your camisole popped up from the sudden force and Newt quickly looked away as you tucked it back in to the best of your ability. As soon as you were done, you splashed some water his way, striking him in the chest. His eyes went wide with amusement as he did the same to you, hitting you square in the face.
A small wave knocked the two of you back under, the Kelpie swimming its way towards you. You and Newt managed to grab a hold of it, barely staying on as it bucked you two up and down. 
After about the third time the Kelpie lept from the water, you cemented your grip. You let out a loud whoop as the cold air kissed your wet skin, Newt also cheering beside you. The Kelpie dove deep under the water, preparing to rocket you two up. As it breached the water, Newt sent you a disarming smile that had your hands subconsciously loosening. As the Kelpie snapped back under the water, you were thrown off, your body just narrowly missing the stone columns of the pool and splashing with a loud crack in the water.
“(Y/N)!” Newt cried out. His voice was drowned out by the water and by the fact that the pain from the fall had you slipping in and out of consciousness. It was the last thing you heard before you passed out, deep under the water.
You awoke to smell of a savory broth soup flooding in from the room over. You looked around the familiar space, soon realizing that you were sat on Newt’s couch, a blanket tucked firmly up to your chin. Your cheeks grew warm as you inhaled the scent that was distinctly him, scolding yourself for the childish crush you had developed.
You adjusted yourself, sitting up to see a tray of tinctures on the table beside you with a note that read, “Please take these when you wake! Newt.” You followed his orders, slugging them back with a wince at each unpleasant taste.
But then you heard a strange noise from the basement. It was a mix between a squeak and a whine, concerning enough to pull you from your cozy spot on Newt’s couch. You stood up and peered around the corner, hearing a soft, offkey hum ringing from the kitchen where Newt most likely was cooking his dinner. The sound of his voice warmed your heart and you almost, almost, got up to speak with him but you figured you had caused him enough trouble for the day. So instead, you headed into the basement by yourself.
You gripped the railings on the stairs with immense force, hoping not to fall over. Your body felt sore which you could only attribute to your accident earlier. You stopped at the bottom of the steps, peering around when you were met with a pained cry from the Niffler cage. You ran up to it to see Molly the pregnant Niffler whimpering in pain as another Niffler nudged at her stomach.
“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered, “you’re about to give birth, aren’t you, Molls?”
As if Molly could understand you, she let out a loud squeal.
“Oh, Merlin. Time to put that Hogwarts education to the test, I suppose,” you mumbled to yourself to give yourself the confidence you needed to deliver the little Niffler babies.
You snatched the pair of gloves from beside the cage and tugged them on tight, casting a spell so they’d perfectly fit your hands. You unlocked the cage to take Molly out, moving her into a small tray with bedding in it.
“Okay, Molls, you got this. Mum’s here.” 
You rubbed her stomach in small circles, feeling the baby— no, babies— squirm around. One thing was for certain: you needed Newt.
“Mr. Scamander!” you called upstairs. No response. “Mr. Scamander, please!” Still no response. “Merlin’s beard, Newt! Get down here!”
No later did you hear heavy steps growing louder behind you. “(Y/N)! You’re awake! Are you okay-”
You didn’t have time for his rambling. You sent a panicked look over your shoulder, meeting his wide eyes. “Molly is giving birth. Triplets.”
“Merlin’s beard.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in contemplation. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s a fighter, I’ll tell you that.”
“What can I do to help you?”
You whipped around. Apparently you’d be delivering the babies. You took in a sobering breath, steadying your shaking hands.
“Something shiny, some snacks, and a towel.”
Newt scrambled around the workspace as fast as he could, dropping the items in front of you. You laid out the towel and snacks beside Molly, massaging her stomach as you felt the babies start to move more than before. It was time. You pulled the shiny object out from behind your back, dangling it above Molly’s head as she delivered three adorable Niffler babies, so distracted by the object that she didn’t realize that she’d given birth. You escorted the babies onto the towel, allowing them to nibble on the snacks as you stripped the gloves off.
“Merlin,” you murmured to yourself in astonishment, “Merlin! I just…”
Newt’s smile was so big it nearly split his face. He nodded, sharing in your excitement. “You did,” he assured.
Completely forgetting about professionalism, you hopped onto him, engulfing him in a tight hug while you laughed melodically. Newt’s thin frame stiffened in your grasp. You gasped, jumping off of him with your hands up.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Scamander. No hugs, I forgot.”
Newt simply stared at you, searching your eyes. You gulped as he took a step closer to you.
“Theseus tends to believe that a hug is just as useful as an apology, so I don’t quite like hugs for that reason.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.
The corner of Newt’s lips twitched upwards, looking around before meeting your gaze. He took another step forward before taking you in his arms. You began to wonder if he could feel your heart pounding in your chest, whether he assumed it was from adrenaline or knew that it was him that drove you mad.
“You should be proud of yourself!” He pulled away to look in your eyes, his arms slinking downwards to rest around your waist. “And, please, (Y/N), no more with the Mr. Scamander business. I’d like to think that we’re well acquainted enough for you to call me Newt.”
If professionalism was damned before, it was most certainly damned now.
Merlin, he was so close, you couldn’t help yourself. With your arms wrapped behind his neck, you pulled him into a long overdue kiss. Your heart thundered in your chest but you were too focused on the way his lips melted perfectly into yours, the way he kissed you back with such hunger and vigor that you had to hold onto him tighter, the way you began to smile as he attempted to figure out where to place his hands. 
You pulled away a moment later, Newt following your lips with unpleasant surprise. All you could do was let out a soft chuckle as your cheeks turned pink.
A teasing grin grew on his lips that had your stomach flipping. “I’m positive now that we’re well acquainted enough for you to call me Newt.”
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general taglist:  @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft
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12tardis · 4 years ago
Text
Not That Dress (Newt Scamander x Reader)
Warnings: S M U T under the cut 
 Requested: yes @the-knights-of-saint-gay said ‘I want some dick (personally I think Newt is the pounding type and the reader is moan-in-his-mouth-while-doing-missionary type’  lmao this request still got me SENT- hope you like it love 💕 
 Summary: There’s a particular dress of yours that you know always drives your husband mad. You are having far too much fun teasing your husband but what will happen when you push him too far? Featuring shameless flirt!reader and very exasperated Newt on their honeymoon. 
 A/N: this is straight UP sin ppls I know I know I wrote a lot of fluff in the lead up to the thing - but is anyone surprised by this point? I tried really hard to not make Newt too OOC and I kinda vibe this for him ngl. I stand by my previous statements that Newt is a Hufflepuff through and through - even in the bedroom.  Seriously I feel like I need some holy water IM SORRY. 
 Words: 4611
 Taglist: @moonkissk7     @just-an-auror
 Newt knew he was in trouble the second you stepped out of the hotel room in that dress with a little sparkle in your eyes that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. 
 He should have known you were plotting something the moment you told him to wait out in the hall and that you would be ready in a moment. You’d never had an issue with getting dressed in front of him before though Newt would always face the other way to give you privacy like a true gentleman. 
 This was something you always teased him for, often draping yourself over his back and wrapping your arms around him from behind just to see him blush when he realised you were in nothing but your undergarments.
                                             -    -     -     -     -
 “Y/N, would you get dressed? We’re going to be late”, he croaked out in a strained voice, feeling the warm blush travelling down his cheeks as you skimmed your hands over his chest with a soft hum. 
 “Honey, we’re going to be wed in less than a month. I don’t think you have to look the other way when I’m getting changed anymore,” you chuckled as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, trailing your hand over his firm chest one last time before you stepped away from him. 
 “I know but I wasn’t raised to be a Peeping Tom, darling.”
 “Well you had no problems looking at me last night when w-“ 
 “Y/N!” Newt cried out loudly and you could see the blush now working its way up the back of his neck.
 “Oh please Newt how can you possibly be shy after all the things-“
 “I’m NOT LISTENING! You’re trying to get a rise out of me and I’m NOT listening!” Newt called, clapping his hands over his ears and making a scene of humming loudly over your teasing. 
 You smirked to yourself as you tugged on the one dress, the one article of clothing you knew he would protest you wearing, checking your reflection over with a proud smile before you twirled him around by his shoulders to face you. 
 Newt’s eyes widened comically as he took you in and you caught the way his eyes dropped briefly to the neckline of the dress before he looked back up at you with his jaw agape “no no no no no. Absolutely not, anything but that.” he rambled shaking his head quickly. 
 He paused when he saw you glaring at him with one hand cocked on your hip “excuse you Newton Scamander but since when did you start deciding what I can and can’t wear?” 
 Newt actually let out a quiet whine then, looking at you with a pleading expression as he took your hands “I don’t and I can’t- I would never ever I am just begging you- not that dress. Not when we’re going to visit my parents.” 
 You dropped your peeved facade immediately at his pleading, the smug smile returning to your lips “why not this dress? What’s so special about this dress?” You tried to play innocent and clueless but Newt was not having it as he gripped your hips in his hands with a little more vigor than he usually would.
 “You know exactly what you little minx,” he said lowly as he pulled you in against him without warning and began to pepper the column of your neck with kisses causing you to squeal.
 And you did know. You had knowingly Pavloved your sweet, oblivious boyfriend to react a certain way whenever he saw you in said dress. 
 It had been the dress you had been wearing the first time you went down on him and the dress you wore before you slept together for the first time. You’d worn it several times since, when you had initiated sexy time. 
 Newt had eventually come to recognise it as the dress that drives him mental. 
 You pushed him away, looking up at him with a shy smile then because you knew he was right and it really wouldn’t be appropriate to tease him in such a way for lunch with his parents. 
 “Okay okay” you said, holding your hands up in surrender as you reached back to unzip the dress, rolling your eyes when Newt turned away from you quickly. 
 Shaking your head with a fond smile you made quick work of getting changed before you stepped around to face him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sigh of relief he let out when he saw you were decent because your fiancé may have very well been the most adorable and sweetest man on the planet. 
 You smiled as he took your hand in his own, fixing you with one last exasperated expression before he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand “one day, I might just snap. And then what will you do?”
 “Sit back and take it like a good girl.” you said casually with a sweet smile, giggling at the look of utter shock he now wore. He took a few minutes to gather himself and lift his jaw from the floor. 
                                             -       -     -     -     -
 And now a month later you were on your honeymoon with your husband and you were travelling around the world with him as he’d promised. Currently you were in New York because it was where you had promised to drop in first and catch up with Tina, Queenie and Jacob. 
 You’d immensely enjoyed catching up with the Goldstein’s and getting to see how Jacob’s bakery was thriving and now you were due at the younger sisters' flat for a small cocktail night that Queenie and Jacob were throwing.
 Now you were looking forward to the chance to dress up but Newt had needed some persuasion as usual from the moment that Queenie had mentioned the word ‘party.’ 
 He was sulking in the hotel corridor when you appeared in the dress and you didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up instantaneously before a dark expression quickly passed over his features. 
 “Y/N”, he murmured in a half scolding tone but you were quick to shrug your coat on and take his hand in your own, tugging him down the corridor after you. 
 “Not another complaint out of you, mister. We’re going to be late.” You tossed his own words in his face as you pulled him along. The coat covered you up for the most part and Newt was relieved but he knew that relief would be short lived. 
 When you arrived at Queenie and Jacob’s place Newt was completely distracted by greeting the Goldstein sisters and the sheer volume of people packed into the tiny flat that he missed you slipping off your coat behind him. 
 “Ah Mr. and Mrs. Scamander have arrived!” Jacob called loudly, clapping Newt on the shoulder and you couldn’t help the smile and small flutter in your chest at the use of your new title. 
 “Sorry we’re late, the Niffler was being a nuisance,” you lied so easily that Newt quickly looked back at you where you were greeting Tina and Queenie.
 The retort died on his lips and he gulped audibly as his gaze roved over your form. He broke out of his ogling when Queenie’s surprised giggle met his ears and he glanced at the woman to see her covering her mouth as she looked back at Newt in amusement. 
 Odd. He could have sworn she couldn’t easily read his thoughts. 
 “When you’re thinkin’ em that loud honey I’m pretty sure even Jacob knows” Queenie teased as she hugged him tightly in greeting, squeezing his shoulder to reassure him. 
 “Relax sweet cheeks, you’re recently married to the girl of your dreams and your thoughts are loud with happiness. Ain’t no one here gonna judge you,” Queenie murmured for only Newt to hear and Newt smiled thankfully back at her though he couldn’t suppress the blush that filled his cheeks. 
 “Well I don’t suppose Y/N’s inner monologue is embarrassing like mine,” Newt murmured and Queenie smiled widely at him before she peeked back over her shoulder to where you were talking animatedly with Tina. 
 “She’s just thinking about you. And calling herself Mrs Scamander over and over again.” Queenie laughed and Newt looked back at you in adoration, shaking his head to himself as he made his way over to you with drinks for both of you.
 Not long later you were sitting pressed into his side at a small table listening to Tina ramble on about her most recent case at MACUSA. Newt was finding it increasingly more difficult to focus on Tina’s words as you lay your hand on his knee and slowly began to trail your hand up his leg. 
 Newt jolted a little when your hand drifted a little too close to the growing tent in his trousers and he quickly gripped your hand in his own, glancing down at you.
 But of course you just smiled innocently back up at him, tracing your other hand along the neckline of your dress and Newt had to dig deep to find the willpower to look away from you and focus back on Tina who was still talking about the pile of paperwork she’d had to sign that week. 
 Newt frowned when you worked your hand free from his and wandered away from him, his eyes following you as you made your way to the makeshift bar.
 You were in the middle of fixing you both another round of drinks when a gentleman sauntered over to you, grinning down at you widely “and who is this little heartbreaker we have here? What are you doing fixing your own drinks, angel face?” 
 You couldn’t help but twitch at the pet name because it sounded utterly wrong coming from someone other than Newt. The man in question was now leering down at you with the most obnoxious smirk on his face and your eyes quickly flicked to your husband. 
 Newt had noticed the man immediately as he’d been watching you from across the room and he felt a heat flaring up his neck at the way the other man was looking like he wanted to devour you. 
  He was just about to push himself to his feet and go and intervene as you were preparing to put the man in his place. But Queenie beat you both to it as she slipped between the pair of you, gripping the young man by his shoulders.
 “Patrick, Y/N is a married woman! And I suggest you remove yourself before Mr.Scamander unleashes one of his creatures on you.” 
 The man, Patrick, blinked quickly and glanced over at Newt before he looked back at you and then at Queenie “Scamander? Oh Mrs. Scamander m-my apologies! I’ll be right outta your hair!” He scurried away and you returned back to the table where Newt was sat with Tina with Queenie in tow. 
 You slid back into your seat beside Newt as he curled his arm around your waist protectively, lifting your hand to his mouth and pressing his lips to your soft skin. 
 He took particular care to brush his lips over your ring finger as he held your gaze, twirling the wedding band on your finger while you smiled back at him as if to say ‘yes I know. I’m yours.’ 
 The rest of the room and the people in it faded into the background as you gazed back at your husband, lifting your other hand to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, noticing his little shiver in response. 
 His hand fell to your knee this time and he thumbed at the fabric of your dress as he became vaguely aware of Tina still rambling on at him. Newt looked back at her, nodding along and plastering on a look of interest as he slowly pushed the fabric of your dress up along your thigh.
 He bit his lip when you scraped your nails along the nape of his neck and laid your head on his shoulder, smiling back at Tina nonchalantly as you slowly let your legs fall open under the table. Newt wondered how easy it would be to just slide his hand up between your legs and into your panties an-
 You both startled and sat up straight when Queenie began to choke on her drink violently, a pink blush colouring her cheeks as she looked back at the pair of you while Tina fetched her some water. 
 Newt flushed scarlet then as he realised what had happened. It was a mixture of the possessiveness he’d experienced just a moment before, the embarrassment he now felt along with the arousal that had been coursing through him all night because of you in that damn dress that had him getting to his feet quickly. 
 “I’m terribly sorry Tina, I’m really not feeling well I’m afraid we must go. We will have to resume this conversation another time.” Newt said in a rush as he pulled you to your feet, barely bidding his farewells to Queenie and Jacob before he was strolling out of the flat with his arm around your waist. 
 Jacob followed after you to fetch you your coat but he turned back to look at Queenie who had since recovered from her shock when he saw the two of you had already apparated away. 
 “Boy, Newt must really be feeling ill”, Jacob called out with a frown and Queenie laughed then, unable to stop herself as she took Jacob’s hand in her own. 
 “He’s not sick, sweetheart. More...excited,” she said slowly, laughing again as she watched the realisation dawn on Jacob’s face. 
 “Oh...OH! They grow so fast. It seems like only yesterday he was too shy to even kiss her!“
                                                    -     -     -      -     -
 You raised your eyebrows in surprise when Newt managed to apparate you both back into your own hotel room and you recognised the look of complete focus in his eyes before he was pinning you back against the wall and kissing you hotly. 
 You kissed him back with just as much vigor, trying to lean into him more and letting out a gasp of surprise when he pushed you back against the wall firmly, looking at you with dark and lustful eyes. 
 “Merlin, Newt, what were you thinking about back there?” you breathed out, letting out another gasp as he nipped at the soft skin of your throat at the same time he pushed his thigh between your knees. 
 “I was thinking about fingering you right there under that bloody table,” he murmured lowly into your ear and you thought you might faint then. 
 What had happened to your sweet and gentle husband? 
 “What you have nothing to say now, huh?” Newt murmured as he lifted you up by the backs of your thighs, carrying you to the bed where he lay you down and wasted no time in slotting himself between your legs. 
 “You’ve been teasing me all night- fuck it, all week really ever since the wedding. In this sinful little dress of yours”, he brushed his lips over yours teasingly before he worked his hand up under your skirt “and now you have nothing to say to me?” 
 Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, your eyes widening because he very rarely cursed and at his words you felt the heat and a deep ache building between your legs. 
 You moved to wrap your arms around his neck as you usually would, making a noise of surprise when he let out a growl and pinned your hands above your head firmly “no touching.” 
 You couldn’t deny the way you clenched in response to his rough handling but you were still surprised as you tried to wrap your legs around his waist, gasping in shock when he used his body to pin you to the mattress. 
 “I said no touching” 
 “Well then what do you suppose I do then, Mr. Scamander?” you said in a much brattier tone than you had intended, smirking up at him.
 Which you really shouldn’t have done because that only urged him to fix you with a smirk of his own “I don’t know...I suppose you could just- what was it? Oh yes,sit back and take it like a good girl,” he purred your own words back at you and it was your turn to stare back at him in utter shock and undeniable arousal. 
 He crushed his lips against yours again before you could come up with any more sarcastic retorts, his hand slipping under your dress and into your panties where he pushed two long fingers inside you without warning. 
 You cried out into his mouth as you rocked your hips up against his hand, clenching down on his digits hard in your shock. 
 Newt began to work his fingers deep inside you as he pulled back from the kiss, instead pressing hot opened mouth kisses down over your neck and between your cleavage before working his way back to your neck. 
 “So gorgeous for me my angel,” Newt breathed into your ear as he crooked his fingers deep inside of you, his cock straining and hard in his slacks. 
 “Newt please”, you whined desperately, clutching at his shoulder as you bucked your hips wildly in pleasure. 
 “Please what my darling? Tell me what you need.” he purred, freezing his actions completely in favour of sitting back and looking down at you. You just looked so pretty sprawled out for him, looking at him with such wanton beauty. 
 You whined in frustration when he stopped his ministrations and pulled his fingers free, trying to shift your hips and whimpering when he simply used his forearm to hold you still with that stupid sexy smirk on his face. 
 “I want you!” you whined again and Newt almost felt guilty for the briefest moment until he remembered how you’d been incessantly teasing him, driving him wild. 
 “You have me, baby. I’m all yo-“, 
 You groaned loudly in frustration, tipping your head back at his cruel teasing “oh my stars Newt! I want you. Inside me. Not your fingers.” You were practically pleading now but you were far too gone to care. Especially when he was rubbing teasing circles on your hip with his thumb and you could feel your own wetness on his digits. 
 Newt felt his cock give an interested jolt in the tight confines of his pants at your words and he relented his firm hold of you to reach for his pants instead. He made quick work of undoing his pants and shoving them down but you also used the window of opportunity to rise up onto your knees, pushing him onto his back before he could realise what was happening. 
 You wasted no time in straddling him, tugging your dress off over your head before you crashed your lips to his and reached down to grip his hard cock in your hand. You pumped the hard length in your hand a few times before you settled in his lap, rocking against him with a soft moan. 
 Newt groaned when you began to grind against him, grazing his teeth against your skin as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck “Y/N”, he groaned again when you gripped his throbbing cock again and rubbed the head of it against your glistening slit. 
 You rose up on your knees a little bit, gripping Newts shoulder hard in one hand and his throbbing length in the other and Newt held his breath and closed his eyes in anticipation.
 But he blinked his eyes open again after a few moments passed and you hadn’t moved an inch. He let out a growl when he spotted the teasing little smile you had on your lips and he pushed you back onto the bed in one fluid motion, spreading your legs with his calloused hands and then settling over the top of you. 
 “You just love it don’t you?” He looked down into your eyes as he positioned his cock at your entrance “you love driving me wild...teasing me so I’ll snap”, he murmured as he nipped at your earlobe, running one hand up your body and tweaking one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 
 He relished the small mewl you let out in response as you wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to thrust your hips up towards him and whimpering when he held you down with his other hand. 
 “That boy is just lucky he had half a brain not to lay a hand on you”, Newt breathed against the skin of your neck, marking your sensitive skin. 
 “W-why’s that?” You managed to stutter out, your lips parting a moment later when his thumb rubbed over your clit. 
 “Because only I get to see you like this.” He thrust his length into you in one fluid thrust, letting out a low groan of pleasure and tipping his head back as you cried out from the sudden intrusion. 
 You were gripping his shaft with your walls in the most delicious way as you clenched your muscles tightly around him. “Oh Newt,” you sighed out, your voice high and breathy as you keened at the way he was stretching your walls. 
 It was a welcome contrast to his usual slow method of opening you up bit by bit with his mouth and fingers. Just the dark look of lust in his eyes and the unreserved pleasure on his face was enough to make you a trembling mess beneath him. 
 Newt pulled his hips back slowly until just the tip of his cock was inside you, slamming his hips forward in one motion with a deep groan before he set up a pace of thrusting into you continuously. 
 You couldn’t help your cries of pleasure as he had his way with you, completely captivated watching how unreserved and dominant your husband now was. He was pounding into you with abandon and you could do nothing more than lay there and take it, rolling your own hips up to meet his. 
 “You’re so incredible,” Newt panted, the sweat forming on his brow as he moved above you and inside you. His hips stuttered to a complete halt though just a moment later and you whined in response, trying to understand why on earth he had stopped but then you saw him scrambling for his wand and muttering about a protection spell. 
 “Leave it,” you breathed out without a second thought, taking his hand in your own and Newt whipped his head back to look at you in shock. “We don’t...I’m not worried. We’ve spoken about this already and- well I’m ready if you are,” you murmured as you squeezed his hand in yours, looking back at him with wide eyes.
 Newt stared back at you blankly for a moment and you were worried you’d upset him but then he was pinning both of your hands back above your head and crashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss as he began to thrust into you again. 
 This time he was really pounding into you with a whole new sense of purpose and you moaned into his mouth as you squeezed your legs around him, spurring him on to fuck into you harder. 
 He was handling you far more roughly than he ever had before and you were a trembling mess below him, shrieking into his mouth when one of his hands found its way between your legs again and he thumbed over your sensitive nub again. 
 Newt pulled back at your shriek but when he saw the look of utter euphoria on your face he tucked his own face into your neck, sucking at the marks he’d made earlier while he jackhammered into you “come on darling, let go for me. Come for me angel”, he murmured directly into your ear like he knew you loved, flicking over your clit even faster.
 Your entire body shuddered as the coil in your stomach finally snapped and you came, wrapping your arms around him tightly and crying out into his shoulder as you clenched around him rhythmically. 
 “Ohhh Merlin, Y/N, Y/N I’m gonna,” he trailed off with a groan when he felt the way you were clenching around him, as if your pussy was trying to milk his cock. 
 You were still in the midst of your orgasm when you heard him and felt the way his cock swelled inside you just barely and you nodded quickly “yes come for me, baby. Fill me up,” you murmured before capturing his lips again. 
 Newt rutted into you just a few more times before he finally shattered at the thought of spilling his seed inside you unprotected and the sensation of you still gripping his length. He pumped into you slowly as the warm cum spurted from his cock, filling you to the brim.
 You whined softly as the sensation and stroked at his messy hair  while Newt collapsed against you, panting heavily against your shoulder.
 When his breathing calmed after a minute or so he carefully pulled out from you and you closed your eyes, already missing the feeling of him. He flopped onto the bed beside you and you both lay there, catching your breath, you with a small blissful smile on your face. 
 “Y/N”, he said it so quietly with the most timid tone that you quickly looked over at him in confusion and when you saw the distressed look on his face you grabbed his hand in your own. 
 He opened his mouth to talk but you lifted your other hand to press a finger to his mouth, effectively shushing him “Newton, I swear to everything-you-hold-sacred that if you apologise for the best sex we’ve had yet I will hex your mouth shut.” 
 You looked back at his stunned expression and you moved your finger from his mouth and gently stroked his cheek “unless...unless you regret not using the protection charm. In that case we can reverse it, there’s nothing to worry about.”
  You sat up, reaching for your wand but Newt took your hand, shaking his head before he dropped a delicate kiss to the back of your hand “no it’s not that I promise...I was just worried, I got- I got carried away. You promise I didn’t hurt you?”, he murmured, flicking his eyes up to look at you in concern.
 “Sweetheart I promise. You didn’t hurt me. I would have told you if I wasn’t enjoying it. You have to trust that,” you soothed, gently caressing his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips a moment later. You were constantly surprised by how gentle and caring he was but you were certainly happy to have seen this new side of your husband.
 Newt smiled again and nodded before he gently pulled you into his lap, hugging you close and tucking his face into your shoulder “I love you Mrs. Scamander,” he murmured, smiling at the way you preened at the name. 
 He lifted you into his arms and headed towards the bathroom, and you wasted no time to smile flirtatiously up at him “ohhhh did I hear you say ‘round two in the shower?’ ” You teased winking up at him. 
 Newt rolled his eyes fondly at you, shaking his head “shut it you, that’s enough of your teasing for one week,” he said, dropping a gentle kiss to your forehead and you laughed softly in response.
 “I love you too, Mr. Scamander.” 
-Other Works Here!-
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bugsy-maria · 3 years ago
Text
Dance Away (Newt Scamander)
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I walked through the archway into the ballroom that hosted a party that started 30 minutes before. I patted down my rose gold, sleeveless flounced dress. I pulled the neck line up a bit as I made my way to the bar on the side of the room. the ball was held as a reunion of the class of 1915.
I grab a fire whisky and take it, I had to forget the meaning I was in. I looked around the room at the stupid people I forgot about.
I placed my glass back on the bar, watching as a bottle of fire whisky poured itself like magic. I heard the clicks of heels hitting the ground and music being played by a band near the back of the room. I didn't realize that I was well over 10 shots of fire whisky till I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"You're going to drink the whole bottle at that speed you know." I turn to look and see the adorable auburn hair I forgot about.
"Believe me Mr. Scamander if you had my day you would too," I smirk, staring into his hazel eyes that got lost every day for 6 years.
"Why don't you tell me about it then." he sat on a stool and smiled that damn smile that gives me butterflies and makes my knees weak. I sat on the stool next to him.
"Well, I went to a meeting,"
"You're a businesswoman?" he asked with wide eyes.
"What you don't think I can be a businesswoman?" I looked at him, acting surprised and hurt.
"Of course I do it's just that you aren't the type to want to go to meetings or do paperwork." he rubbed the back of his neck, his curls blocking his eyes as he looked down.
"I'm only joking Mr. Scamander, I know what you meant. but if you must know, I'm not. it was more of a gathering of sorts. like going to a church, so a gather of people that believe the same things as you." I circled the empty glass on the bar.
"And what would that be."
"It's a controversial topic you know," I leaned onto my palm.
"And that is...?" he persisted.
"Witches and wizards being in hiding." he looked at me, his interest instantly peaked. "It's just that, we have this amazing power to make beauty happen with the flick of a wrist but god forbid we do it in public. I mean if we did then we would be treated like weapons or some types of freaks in a circus, all because of how we were born." I moved my hands in the air as I ranted. "Now don't get me wrong," I turned to him to see some mixture of worry or fear in his eyes, "I'm not saying we should kill the muggles like you might have heard from the papers I'm just saying that it would be nice to not hide what makes us special is all. I'm tired of hiding all because if I didn't I wouldn't be treated like a human."
"You know that they aren't all that bad right?" I heard him speak up from his silence.
"I know but-"
"How about we dance." he got up and holds out his hand, it was one that I graciously take with a smile. as he leads me to the floor I can't help but feel like a kid again. this had always been one of my fantasies deep down, though I would never have admitted it.
he puts his hand on my waist and we move to the music, following the rhythm of the music while moving in sync with everyone else in the room dancing.
"If they did find out about us most would lose their jobs." he looked me in the eyes, "And they made this music and this dance. they just don't like things that are different is all." he pulls me closer, leaning his chin on the top of my head.
"I know I'm just tired," I mumbled into his chest. I hate that he is right but deep down I knew this. I have to tell him about the meeting, preferably tonight, but I don't want this moment to end. we danced for a few more songs before we stopped.
"I missed this Mr. Scamander." I walk through the doors on the balcony, following him.
"We're friends you know, you can just call me Newt." he chuckles looking over the balcony.
"I don't think you'll think that once I tell you though." I sigh quietly.
"Tell me what?" he looked over his shoulder curiously, I walk over to him and lean back against the rail.
"Promise you won't be mad."
"(Y/N) what is it?" he looked worried now.
"That meeting, the one I told you about earlier," I paused before continuing, "It was one of Grindelwald's meetings, and I know that you read about it in the papers. and I regret joining but  I can't leave now. please understand that if I leave he will kill me." I looked at him, tears brimming my eyes the more I think about him leaving me again. he seemed scared and disappointed. he stood up straight and stared me in the eyes almost like he is looking at me in the soul.
"Are you still on their side?" his voice doesn't sound the same as before, this time it was dark and deep. I only heard this voice from him once, when he was mad at me before he left me at Hogwarts.
"Of course not, I didn't join because of the killing muggles part either, he fed me lies that seemed too good to be true."
"And they were?"
"Newt they were about you." I took him back in the eye, I see curiosity flash across before they go back to their previous hardened glare.
"About?"
"You really want to know?" I mimic his arms and cross them too.
"Yes."
"He said that if I joined you would like me back. that you would be safe and we could live happily ever after with no worries of hiding who we are from the rest of the world. but I swear he never told me anything about the genocide he was planning." a tear or two escaping my eyes. his arms slump to his side, and in two strides he's by my side holding me in his arms.
"It's ok." he once again pushes my head into his chest. more tears fall but the beating of his heart calms me down.
"I don't want to die Newt." my voice cracks.
"You won't, I'll make sure you won't." he kisses the top of my head, swaying me in his arms. just the two of us under the stars like I always dreamed of.
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